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Eighteen Years Since | ||||
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Category: Post-HBP Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Drama, Romance Warnings: Violence Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 5 Summary: It seemed the sort of thing Voldemort would do – orchestrate an attack on Halloween, eighteen years to the day that he had killed the Potter's, and to bring it to Hogwarts, the only place Harry had ever truly felt at home. Hitcount: Story Total: 4103 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. Author's Notes: This was written for the Halloween fanfiction challenge at The Hogwarts Experience. |
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Eighteen Years Since “Ginny, do you think you could help me with some Transfiguration homework later? I just can’t get the hang of it, and I know you’re great at that class, and well, you know, I thought I’d ask for your help, if you don’t mind that is…” Ginny smiled down at her plate, before she looked up and saw John O’Neill, a sixth year Ravenclaw who was gazing at her expectantly. “I don’t mind John,” Ginny replied, “how about if we meet in the library at eight o’ clock tonight? I’ll do my best to help you.” “That’s great Ginny, thanks!” He smiled shyly, and paused before speaking again. “I, erm, guess I’ll see you later then?” Ginny nodded and smiled, and John took that as his cue to leave, making his way towards the Ravenclaw table. She watched him sit down with his friends, who grinned and patted him on the back, and Ginny couldn’t help but wonder what they were talking about. She knew that John liked her — he’d been finding excuses to talk to her since the start of the term, and he wasn’t particularly subtle. But so far, she’d spurned his advances, not wanting to get into a relationship with anyone. Now that’s a lie, she thought, you know that if Harry came walking in right now and asked you to be his girlfriend again, you wouldn’t hesitate in saying no! She frowned at her bowl of cereal, trying to stop those traitorous thoughts before they began. She hadn’t seen Harry since last Christmas, when he, along with Ron and Hermione, had turned up at The Burrow after a five-month absence. Then they’d left again, on Boxing Day, leaving only a small scribbled note “we’ll be in touch”. But they hadn’t. At least, not with any of the Weasley’s. Ginny suspected that Harry reported back to Remus Lupin occasionally, but the werewolf refused to say anything on the matter. And now it was Halloween morning, and she was in her Seventh Year at Hogwarts. Despite many protestations to the contrary, the school had remained open, although the number of students dwindled every month. Ginny was one of only twenty or so seventh years, and the rest of the years weren’t much better off. But Ginny had stayed, despite being of-age, because in between the classes and the homework, Hogwarts had become a sort of safe house for the people who had been injured in the war. St. Mungo’s had collapsed in November last year, falling prey to Voldemort and his Death Eaters, and the injured had nowhere else to go. Ginny helped Madam Pomfrey and the other Healers in the infirmary as often as she could, and they were fully appreciative of her help. She enjoyed the work — it was methodical and kept her mind off other things, like Harry. Once again, she pushed the thoughts of Harry out of her mind. Dwelling on his whereabouts wouldn’t do her any good, but she did it anyway. When she worked in the hospital wing, she was always wondering if the next person to be brought in would be Harry, and if it was would he be glad to see her? Her feelings for him hadn’t abated in the time they’d been apart — if anything, they’d intensified, and not a day went by when she didn’t think about him in some way. She thought of Ron and Hermione too. Last Christmas she’d seen secret glances and ‘accidental’ touches, and she’d guessed that they’d finally realised their feelings for each other and were together. She sighed, and pushed her empty bowl away, and suddenly felt very weary. Weary of the war, weary of not knowing if her family were safe, weary of Voldemort controlling everything. And she wanted it to be over. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you had feelings for him!” “Oh hush, Helen. He’s just a friend, I’ve told you that hundreds of times.” “A friend who you’re going to the library with, to study,” Helen replied, a teasing tone to her voice. “Do you have to find innuendo in everything?” Ginny asked exasperatedly, pulling out a sheet of parchment and attempting to follow what Professor Binns was saying. “Yes,” Helen grinned, “I’ve got a dirty mind, I can’t help it.” “Well anyway, there’s nothing going on between John and I. You know how I…well, you know.” Ginny trailed off uncomfortably. She’d confessed several months ago to Helen that she still had feelings for Harry, but she still didn’t like saying it out loud. “I know,” Helen nodded, before squeezing her friend’s arm. Ginny had a free period after History, and so she headed up to the Hospital Wing. When she arrived, Madam Pomfrey told her that no new patients had been admitted, and all that needed to be done was to administer some restorative potions to the ones already there. The patients liked Ginny. She was chatty and refused to let them dwell on their injuries, and whatever had caused them. As soon as she’d given all the patients their potions, she helped Madam Pomfrey tidy up a bit, and then left to go down to the Great Hall for lunch, stopping to fetch Helen from the common room on the way. They arrived in the entrance hall to find a crowd of students standing around the closed doors of the Great Hall, a hum of conversation in the air. Ginny spotted John standing with his friends, and so she pulled Helen over to them. “What’s going on?” She asked, cringing slightly when she saw the way John’s eyes lit up when she spoke to him. “Dunno,” replied one of John’s friends — Adam, Ginny thought his name was, “the doors were locked when we got here about five minutes ago.” Ginny frowned, hoping nothing bad was happening, and was about to suggest they fetched Professor McGonagall, when the transfiguration professor suddenly appeared in the crowd. “What’s happening?” She demanded in her harsh Scottish brogue, “Why are you all waiting out here?” “The doors won’t open, Professor,” someone called, “Alohomora won’t work either.” Ginny saw Professor McGonagall frown, as she stood before the great oak doors, and ran her hands over them. She then took out her wand and muttered a spell, causing a web of lights to encase the door, thrumming and humming. It was magic, Ginny knew, and it was amazing to look at, different threads interweaving every which way. But as she watched, and as Professor McGonagall whispered another spell, the golden, shimmering lights shivered and a thread of blackish-green wound itself up the centre of the door, and around the frame. Ginny felt the blood in her veins run cold. Something wasn’t right. She could see the Dark Magic pulsating around the door, and could tell from the look on McGonagall’s face that that was very wrong. “What’s going on, Professor?” Called a third year, “Can we eat lunch yet?” “Not yet, Mr Andrews,” Professor McGonagall replied wryly, before turning her attention back to the doors of the Great Hall. She raised her wand, and whispered what sounded like the counter-curse to the silencing spell, and all of a sudden, voices could be heard emanating from within the Great Hall. Voices, followed by crashing and the sound of hexes and curses being thrown. A horrified look crossed McGonagall’s face, and she whipped around. “Prefects! Take your houses to your common rooms immediately. Do not leave them under any circumstances.” The students, perhaps hearing the slight panic in their usually stoic professor’s voice hurried to obey her, running up the stairs towards their towers. But Ginny didn’t move. She had a horrible feeling that this was it, that if she could see through walls she’d see Harry and Voldemort duelling in the Great Hall. It seemed the sort of thing Voldemort would do — orchestrate an attack on Halloween, eighteen years to the day that he had killed the Potter’s, and to bring it to Hogwarts, the only place Harry had ever truly felt at home. A thrill of fear ran through her body, as she met the gaze of Professor McGonagall. “Miss Weasley, go to your common room.” “No, Professor. I’m staying.” “Me too,” Helen spoke from behind, making Ginny jump, as she thought that her friend had gone with the others. And then other voices — John’s, Colin Creevey’s, Luna’s echoing her sentiment. Professor McGonagall continued to look at Ginny, and then she nodded, a resigned look on her face, and turned back to the doors of the Great Hall, wand outstretched. Ginny and the students formed a half-circle around their professor. Ginny tried not to feel afraid, but it was difficult. Harry and Ron and Hermione could be in there, with Death Eaters. With Voldemort. McGonagall was passing her wand over the lines of magic on the door, and a few muttered spells later, it clicked open, and the shouts and crashes they had heard before suddenly became louder. Ginny gasped as she saw the inside of the Great Hall. That morning it had been resplendent in orange and black, jack o’ lanterns lining the walls, and clusters of bats hovering near the ceiling. Now, it was a battleground. Overturned chairs and broken candlesticks, flashes of hexes and curses flying through the air. The scent of sweat and blood and the cries of battle. It didn’t seem as though anyone inside had noticed the doors opening, for McGonagall and the small group of students were able to slip inside, unobserved. And then they were caught up in the fray. Ginny had been right in thinking that Voldemort would be here, along with Harry, Ron and Hermione, but she hadn’t been prepared to see other members of her family. She caught glimpses of red hair — that was Fred, and over there was Bill, and Ron, ducking from a stinging hex. There were Order members too — Moody and Tonks, Lupin and Hestia Jones amongst them, and they were all fighting the Death Eaters. And then she saw Harry, duelling with Voldemort behind the teacher’s table. He seemed to be holding his own, sending spell after spell at Voldemort, who blocked all but a few. She watched as Voldemort sent a jet of red light towards Harry, and when it hit him, he reeled back in pain. “Well, well, well…the youngest Weasley,” Ginny turned, hearing the familiar, smooth voice of Lucius Malfoy. Before she could gather her wits about her, Malfoy sent a hex towards her, and then she found it hard to breathe. Her eyes seared and her lungs felt as though they were on fire. Trying to take deep calming breaths, she raised her wand and attempted to send a spell back towards Malfoy, who was watching her, smirking. But she couldn’t speak, her chest felt tight and constricted, black dots were swimming before her eyes. She was going to pass out, she could feel it. She staggered backwards, and her legs hit against the bench at what had been the Gryffindor table. Through the pain she remembered that it was just that morning that John had asked her for help with his Transfiguration. It seemed a lifetime ago. She leaned against the bench now, and lifted her eyes to meet the gaze of Lucius Malfoy, who was still watching her, his damned smirk still in place. He raised his wand to her, and she knew that it would be the end, that she would die on this Halloween night, that Malfoy was going to kill her. Her eyes were still watering, and she desperately wanted to close them, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. And then, he was lifting his wand, opening his mouth, and she waited for the fatal curse to hit. But it never came. Instead, she heard a bellowed “Stupefy!” and Malfoy went flying across the room, landing with a sickening crack against one of the stone walls, his head grotesquely lolling to one side. He was dead, without a doubt. She looked over to Ron, the person who had shouted the stupefy curse, and saw him staring open-mouthed at Malfoy’s body. “Ron,” she said, and he turned to look at her. The pain in her chest was easing slightly, and she could breathe a little better, though it was still sore. “Ginny! What the hell are you doing here?” “Same as you,” she replied, before standing up, “fighting.” Ron’s mouth set in a grim smile, and they both looked around them. It was difficult to see at first, but the Order and everyone on the side of good seemed to be…winning. There were definitely fewer Death Eaters battling than there had been only moments before. Ginny glanced to the top end of the Hall, and saw Harry still locked in combat with Voldemort. He was bleeding profusely from a wound on his head, and his left arm was hanging at an awkward angle. But Voldemort didn’t look much better, he too was covered in blood, and he moved with a slight limp. Ginny wasn’t sure exactly of what happened next, but she glanced away from Harry and Voldemort for one moment, to help Ron restrain a struggling Death Eater, and the next thing she heard was a loud bang, followed by a flash of blindingly white light, and when she looked back across at Harry, he was standing alone. Voldemort was gone. Ginny ached. There was a dull pain in her chest, and every time she took a breath it felt as though something was stabbing her. She tried to open her eyes, but was met with a blinding whiteness. Somehow, this comforted her. It meant she was in the hospital wing, and it was over. She fell asleep. The next time she awoke, the whiteness had dulled to a grey, and she could see from looking out the window that it must be late afternoon or early evening. If this was the case, then she had slept around the clock at least once. She tried to sit up, ignoring the burning in her chest, and her movements caught the attention of her Mother, sitting in a chair next to her bed. “Ginny! Oh, Ginny!” Molly rushed to hug her daughter, squeezing her tight. Ginny didn’t have the heart to tell her that it hurt, and eventually Molly let go, tears shining in her eyes. “Is he gone?” Was the first thing she asked, and then, “Is Harry all right?” “Yes, and yes,” her Mother replied, smiling slightly, “Harry’s still unconscious, but Madam Pomfrey says he’ll recover.” Ginny felt as though a weight had been lifted, and was surprised to feel the pain in her chest lessen slightly. “And…everyone else? Are they all right?” “Mostly,” Molly replied, looking downwards for a moment, “your brother’s are all alive. Fred’s damaged his leg and the Healers think they may have to amputate.” Her voice wavered on the last word, and her eyes filled with tears again. “But he’s alive. And your Father too. Poor Hestia Jones wasn’t so lucky, she died. And it’s touch and go for several others too.” Ginny sighed, wishing that Hestia Jones could have lived, she had been a nice person. And then she realised that her Mum hadn’t mentioned Hermione. “Mum, you didn’t say anything about Hermione.” Her Mum looked away, and Ginny began to dread what she was going to say next. “She’s…she’s not…” “No…she’s alive. But the Healer’s don’t know if she’ll make it,” Molly’s voice wavered again, “she was hit by three slashing curses on her chest and stomach. It’s touch and go.” Ginny sank back against her pillow, feeling numb. Hermione couldn’t die. Not when everyone else was alive. It wouldn’t be right. And it was with these thoughts that she slipped back into an uneasy sleep. Someone was shaking her gently, whispering her name, trying to break through her consciousness barrier. She blearily opened her eyes, and saw that same half-light that she’d awoken to last. She blinked away the last vestiges of sleep, and shocked; saw that it was Harry who had awoken her. “Harry?” She said, her voice cracking slightly. He sent her a lopsided smile, and reached out to take her hand. “Are you all right?” He asked. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?” She replied, and then she remembered, “Harry! How’s Hermione? Is she-” “She’s fine,” Harry interrupted, “you’ve been asleep longer than you think.” “How long since I was last awake?” “Three days,” he replied, “Hermione woke up this afternoon.” Ginny smiled, as a strange sensation flooded he veins. Was it happiness? Relief? She didn’t know, but it felt better than the worry of before. “So is it really over then?” She asked, biting her lip. “If you mean, did I kill Voldemort, then yes, I did.” “And the Death Eaters?” “Azkaban.” “Okay. What happened exactly? How did you all end up in the Great Hall?” “Voldemort broke through the wards,” Harry sighed, looking at his hands, “and he made sure I knew that he had. We — Hermione, Ron and I — fetched as many members of the Order as we could and then apparated into the Great Hall. They were waiting for us. And well…you know the rest.” “Do I?” Ginny replied, in a half whisper, before sighing. They fell silent, Ginny staring at her quilt covers, her hand nervously plucking at the white linen. “Ginny,” his voice broke the silence, several minutes later, “I need to tell you something.” “Oh?” She didn’t look up. “When I was…when I was fighting Voldemort, I thought that I was getting close to the point where I would have to give up. He was winning. But then, well I heard Ron stupefy someone, then I thought I heard him say your name, and I looked over and I saw you, and you looked so beautiful, even in the middle of the battle, and well…I think seeing you gave me strength, made me realise that I didn’t want to give up, made me certain that I had to carry on. And then I was just concentrating on all those feelings, and he…disappeared. You must have seen the white light?” “Yes,” Ginny replied quietly, still looking down at the quilt. “Do you remember in my fifth year, when he possessed me at the Ministry? When I thought of Sirius, it hurt Voldemort, forced him out of my mind, and I think something similar happened on Halloween. I was concentrating on how much I…how much I love you Ginny, and I guess I was thinking of Ron and Hermione and all your family too, but I think it hurt him. I think it hurt him so much that he died.” Ginny’s hand had stilled halfway through what Harry had been saying, and she finally lifted her gaze to his face. His brilliant green eyes were the same as always, even if the face that surrounded them was covered in cuts and bruises. He stared at her, unblinking, a strange look on his face, a sort of half-nervous, half-happy look. When Ginny didn’t say anything, Harry took her hand again, and leaned a little bit closer to the side of her bed. “Ginny, I know it’s been over a year since we last saw each other properly, but…I still…” His words were cut off as Ginny closed the gap between them and softly kissed him. His eyes slid closed, and he kissed her back, slipping one of his hands into her hair whilst the other moved to cup the side of her face. When they broke apart, Harry had a slight grin on his face, and Ginny knew that his expression was mirrored with her own. She reached out for his hand, and squeezed it, smiling. And at that moment, she knew that everything was going to be all right. A/N: Thanks for reading, and please review! |
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