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Finding Us | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: General Warnings: Sexual Situations Story is Complete Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 377 Summary: Ginny Weasley did not bring her wand anywhere anymore. There wasn’t any point ... Harry Potter didn’t really live anywhere. He hadn’t really lived since Ginny Weasley walked out of his life. Hitcount: Story Total: 118378; Chapter Total: 9413 Awards: View Trophy Room |
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Her hand started to hurt. Albert said it was the anaesthetic wearing off. Ginny wondered if he had originally believed she was a Muggle. Because he should have been able to heal her hand. She wanted to ask him why he hadn’t. Why he wasn’t. But she didn’t quite know how to ask that of someone she had just met. Perhaps if she used a Portkey to go home and show her dad the stitches, then he would heal it. But that would mean leaving Albert. And she wasn’t sure she could do that. Something told her that if she let him walk away, he wouldn’t come back. So Ginny sat in her chair, her bandaged hand laying in her lap and her other hand resting in Albert’s. Neither of them moved for the longest time. It might have minutes. It could have been hours. Ginny didn’t know. Her hand throbbed too much and she was suddenly very tired. “I’m sorry I can’t heal it,” Albert said. He looked sorry too. Ginny liked it when how someone looked matched what someone said. Too often people had told her they didn’t mind that she wasn’t magical anymore. But their face always said they didn’t know what to do with her anymore. Too often boys in the village said they would like to have tea with her. But their faces said they’d like to have her. She didn’t want them. Albert was staring at the Portkeys on the coffee table and Ginny wondered why he couldn’t heal it. He had conjured an owl treat. Wandlessly. Surely a little healing spell wasn’t beyond him. Ginny looked at him for a moment. Not many wizards could do wandless magic. She wondered what job he did. Her hand throbbed painfully and she winced, hunching over and squinting a little. “It was … because Muggles … laws ...” Albert said. He seemed distressed. Ginny took a deep breath. Trying to focus on what he was saying. The dull throb in her hand was beating in time to her heartbeat. Her heartbeat was drowning out Albert’s voice. Her hand clenched involuntarily. Doctor Swenson had given her a script for some of the little white pills she sold at the pharmacy. But Ginny wanted one of her mother’s painkilling potions more than anything in the world. Her mother made the best painkillers. Ginny contemplated the Portkeys again. She just went to The Burrow yesterday. Her hand throbbed again. Albert was trying to explain himself. Her head was pounding too much to listen. “It’s okay, you thought I was Muggle,” Ginny said. It didn’t explain why he wasn’t healing it now. She wanted to ask him. Wanted to know. Ginny peered at him. He was running one hand through his hair. He looked nervous. His big brown eyes darted around her little sitting room and his foot tapped nervously on the faded floor rug. Only the hand holding hers was still. His fingers still caressing her own. Ginny was hungry. The clock on the mantelpiece said it was after lunchtime. The afternoon sunlight started to play over the bare, white walls. Ginny wondered idly if there was any bread. Probably not. She usually went shopping on Mondays. If she went home, Mum would feed her. She looked at the Portkeys again. She wondered if she could hold onto one with her hand so sore anyway. Ginny sighed and looked down at her injured hand. A pale red stain was spreading under the dressings, muted by the layers of gauze. Albert’s hand still ran nervously through his hair. His foot still tapped nervously on the floor rug. Ginny squeezed his hand and all the movement stopped. “I — I don’t know what will happen if I try and heal it now,” Albert said. “It doesn’t matter,” Ginny said. And it didn’t. Albert gazed at her for a moment. He looked at her as if she was an old friend he hadn’t seen her for years. It made Ginny feel warm inside. She wanted to feel like that always. Because she hadn’t felt warm inside for a long time. Since the time she left. Albert made her feel warm. The way it felt to be with Harry. “Do you want to go home?” Albert asked. “My name isn’t Alyson Parker,” Ginny blurted. She was surprised she said that. She wondered what he would do now that she had told him her real name. The Weasley family was prominent. You weren’t a wizard without knowing about the Weasleys. Ginny wondered if he’d try to use her to get Harry Potter’s autograph the way Billy Meadowes did. Albert didn’t say anything though. He just nodded as if it didn’t matter. “It’s Ginny, Ginny Weasley.” “I’m very pleased to meet you, Ginny Weasley.” He made her name sound like the best musical notes of the best symphony. He smiled like she was playing that symphony just for him. Which was really quite ridiculous because all she could hear was the clock ticking on the mantelpiece (and Mrs Coates across the street beating the dust out of her rugs with a broom). He had a nice smile. Ginny liked it. But it still looked like he didn’t use it very often. Ginny hoped he’d use it more around her (if he stayed). ************************* His cheeks started to hurt. Harry wasn’t used to smiling so much. Ginny had told him her name. Harry wanted to know why she couldn’t tell it was him. Why she didn’t know he was Harry. But he didn’t quite know how to tell her that. Perhaps if he just went and got Neville. He’d tell her (and tell off Harry). That would mean leaving her. And he wasn’t sure he could do that. Something told him that if he walked out on her she wouldn’t let him back in. So he sat there smiling at her (like an idiot probably). They didn’t move. Harry smiled at her and held her hand. It could have been minutes. It could have been hours. Harry didn’t know. He suddenly felt energised. “Are you hungry?” She looked hungry. Harry glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece and was glad Molly Weasley didn’t know he hadn’t fed her daughter before half past two in the afternoon. Suddenly Harry felt hungry. He couldn’t remember feeling hungry. Not really. He used to be hungry all the time. Now he never was. Molly never believed him. He could tell. And he could tell it made her sad. He hated making people look sad. That’s why he always ate everything she put in front of him. Even if he had to force it down. He didn’t want to make her sad. Because Molly already looked too sad. Harry stared at Ginny’s hand and she winced again. He felt terrible. It was true he couldn’t be sure what would happen if he tried to heal the cut with Muggle stitches in place. But he also couldn’t risk trying to do it wandlessly. He always did healing with his wand. He couldn’t risk Ginny seeing his wand. Harry’s wand. She thought he was Albert. It had been so distressing to make her go through the stitches. And now he couldn’t help her with her pain. The doctor gave them some pills of something. But she should have a painkilling potion. She should have one of Molly’s painkilling potions. Molly made the best painkillers. She’d once given Harry something for a cursed cut he got on assignment. He hadn’t felt anything for a week. It had been like floating on a cloud. He should take her to The Burrow. “I am hungry,” Ginny said. Harry didn’t want to take her to The Burrow. They might recognise him. Her eyes darted to the Portkeys again. She wanted to go home. She didn’t say that, but Harry knew. Her eyes darted around the room. She looked at the clock again. At the net curtains in the window. And back at the Portkeys on the coffee table. Her hand twitched in his. Harry knew he had no food at his flat. Unless you counted the mouldy potato under the sink. Which Harry couldn’t even remember buying. Harry looked at the Portkeys. She could never hold onto one. Not with her hand bandaged like that. Harry ran his hand through his hair again and rubbed at his eyes. Ginny’s hand twitched again and Harry caressed her hand gently. Her injured hand lay in her lap, the red stain spreading under the gauze. Mocking him. He couldn’t heal her. Just like he couldn’t heal her magic. But he could Apparate her home. So that her mother could look after her. The thought made his heart clench. He wanted to look after her. He didn’t want to let her go. She made him feel warm inside. He wanted to feel like that always. Because he hadn’t felt warm inside for years. Ginny made him feel warm. He felt like his heart was healing. “Would you like me to Apparate you home?” Harry asked. “Yes,” Ginny blurted. She looked surprised that she had said it. Harry nodded. He stood up. Shuffled his feet. He wondered if they would recognise him. He wondered if she would find out who he really was. Harry wondered what she would do when she found out. He wondered if she would get mad at him. He wondered if she would walk away again. He wanted to savour every moment with her before she found out. And turned away again. Ginny stood up. She took a step towards him. Harry held onto her hand as if it was the most important, the most precious thing in the world. Because she was. Harry reached up to her cheek with his free hand. He touched her softly. She smiled at him and it felt like all the rays of the sun were reaching out to him. She looked like she didn’t show that smile to many people. Harry hoped she’d show it to him more (if she let him stay). |
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