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SIYE Time:22:42 on 21st September 2017


The Path to Harry
By CharmHazel

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Category: Pre-OotP, Post-OotP, Post-HBP, Post-DH/AB
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Angst, Drama, Fluff, General, Romance
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG
Reviews: 8
Summary: Ginny's perspective of her relationship with Harry and her journey to falling in love with him.
Hitcount: Story Total: 1612



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 is the companion piece to The Path to Ginny. The original plan for this story was to be a multi-chapter story and it still is. I actually have the first chapter written. I just have not had the chance to go through the books to pinpoint exact moments and missing parts I want to cover. So it will be a bit of wait before that story appears. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this one instead.




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Have you ever had a dream that you thought could and would not ever come true, but somehow it did?

As crazy as it may sound, I have.

Actually, it is about to come true today.

My crazy, impossible dream of marrying the Boy Who Lived is coming true today.

Except I am not marrying the Boy Who Lived. I am instead marrying Harry Potter.

Just Harry. My Harry. My amazing, wonderful, noble and selfless Harry.

He maybe the Saviour of the Wizarding World, a name he really hates by the way, but to me, and anyone who knows and loves him, he is just plain, old Harry.

But it took time for me to see him as that and not as the Boy Who Lived. And when I did finally see him the way he wanted to be known, I couldn’t help but fall in love with him.

It was a long, tough journey for us to get to this point. It was a struggle for me and for him, but we got here in the end and that is all that matters.

Though I have to admit that I do wonder sometimes just how I was so lucky to have him fall in love with me. How just was it that I went from being his best mate’s baby sister to being the one he says he cannot and will not live without?

Merlin, my heart always flutters when he says that.

My path and my journey began when I was just a small child who had been told a simple bedtime story. It was the story of the Boy Who Lived. I know now that what I was told by my parents and older brothers was not completely accurate, but then again, no one really knew at the time what had happened on that Halloween night. Even so, I decided right there and then, I was going to meet and marry Harry Potter and that I was going to love him so much.

It is actually scary to think that it came true.

I was ten years old the first time I saw him. He was this short, scrawny little thing, with messy black hair and the most beautiful green eyes I had ever seen. And yet, I didn’t know it was him until the twins told me before they got on board the Hogwarts Express. I didn’t get to go on board to say hello to him like I wanted to, but knowing now how I reacted the first time he spoke to me, makes me wonder whether my reaction would had been the same.

I never admitted this to Ron, but I was jealous of him that year. He was off at Hogwarts having these great adventures with Harry Potter, his best friend, and there was little old me stuck at him with only my mum and dad for company.

Yes, I was downright jealous of him.

Remember I was ten. I didn’t know any better. Plus it didn’t help that I had this huge crush on Harry at the time.

It was the summer before my first year at Hogwarts when I first met Harry. The morning he arrived is possibly one of the most cringe worthy and embarrassing moments of my life.

Don’t worry; I am going to tell you, even at the expense of my own dignity and pride.

I came down the stairs, still in my pyjamas and dressing gown, with absolutely no clue that Harry had arrived. I spoke to my mum and still I had no idea he was sat at the table. Then I spotted him. I am pretty certain I turned red before I bolted out of the kitchen.

That pretty much set the precedent for at least the next year.

Blushing constantly, elbows in butter dishes, not being able to say anything in front of him, embarrassing singing valentines and saving my life.

Yes, that was the year Harry saved me from a near certain death. Something I will be eternally grateful to him for. But I am not going to go into detail about what happened. It is still a hard experience for me to talk about. Harry is the only one who I have ever been fully honest with about it.

Still, it did have a huge effect on me. It made me stronger and tougher than I was before. But it also turned my fairy tale into an actual reality.

The problem now was that I had a crush on Harry, my hero. Still not on just Harry. I was still unable to talk around him. I would still blush if he spoke to me. I basically could not be myself around him.

For the next two years, I ended up watching him from afar. Don’t get me wrong, we had more interaction than we did previously, but there were usually other people around.

My saving grace though, came through one very simple conversation with Hermione.

It was inevitable that Hermione and I would end up talking about Harry. We shared a room every summer from after my second year and she was Harry’s best friend. She could have refused, she could have been rude about it, laughed at me or she could have even told me that it was never going to happen between me and Harry.

But she didn’t.

She was honest and helpful. She helped me to see that my crush was not on Harry himself and that Harry was unable to see me as me when I was unable to be myself around him.

It all made sense to me in that moment.

Then came the most important piece of advice: Move on and date other boys.

As simple as the advice was and as hard as it was to actually follow, it helped considerably more than I could have ever expected it to.
So that was what I did. I dated other boys. And she was right, it helped, it actually helped. I didn’t get over Harry. I knew I wouldn’t. My feelings shifted instead. By the end of my third year, my crush on Harry was over, but as I realised much later on, I had begun to fall in love with him.

But I am getting ahead of myself.

Me moving on, well at least in some capacity, began with the Yule Ball, which was held as part of the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Being a third year meant that unless someone asked me to be their date, I would not be able to attend.

Now you can probably guess just who I wanted to ask me, but even I knew that was a long shot. So when Neville asked me, I said yes. We only went as friends, but I was grateful for the invitation and he was an absolute gentleman the whole night. Except for when he stepped on my toes as we danced.

The Yule Ball, therefore, gave me the opportunity to go on my first date, but it also provided me with what I felt were two important moments on my path to becoming Harry’s girlfriend.

The first was the missed opportunity to be Harry’s date to the ball. By the time Ron suggested the idea, I had already accepted Neville’s invitation. I remember being so annoyed with myself. But now I know that it would not have been a good idea as at the time I still blushed around him and stumbled over my words. Not as bad as I did before though, I was getting better around him, but not enough to spend an evening as his date. Plus I didn’t want to see him to drool over Cho Chang all evening.

The second moment was meeting the guy who would be my first kiss and my first boyfriend. His name was Michael Corner, a Ravenclaw in Harry’s year. Not much happened that night between us. He just asked me to dance and I accepted. He made me feel good, made me feel pretty and treated me like I was special. It was just what I needed at the time.

Despite all that, despite the fact this boy had noticed me, ME, little old Ginny Weasley, nothing came of it. That was my choice though. I didn’t want to rush into anything and Michael got that. So instead, we got to know each other and eventually he asked me out. And I said yes.

Our first kiss was nothing special. It was simple and sweet. There were no fireworks or butterflies in my stomach, but still, it was my first kiss. And finally I felt like I was beginning to find out who I truly was, the real me.

By the end of my third year, as I said before, I was over my crush on Harry. I had finally moved on in some capacity, having found myself a boyfriend and having shared my first kiss with him. You would think I would be happy, wouldn’t you?

No, I was far from close to being happy.

Why?

The end of June saw the return of Tom Riddle, or as he was otherwise known, Lord Voldemort. The night that happened, Harry had returned from the graveyard with the body of Cedric Diggory. That image is forever burned into my memory. Harry looked shattered, broken and vulnerable, more so than I had ever seen him. It was enough to shatter the remaining illusions I had of him and allowed me to finally see the real him.

Harry, just Harry. The boy struggling with the fate of the Wizarding World on his shoulders. Not that he knew it at the time, but I suspect he had his suspicions.

All of this helped me finally forge a friendship with him. It came at a time when he needed his friends the most, thanks to the Ministry’s refusal to believe in Voldemort’s return. Harry has since told me that he was unbelievably grateful for my friendship that year.

You see, my fourth year was the beginning of us falling for each other properly.

I suddenly found myself truly apart of Harry’s world that year. Ok, so I wasn’t privy to everything that went on, but I knew more than I had before. One of the best things about it was the DA and learning how to defend ourselves through Harry teaching us. While I know he’ll never head down that path, he would make a wonderful teacher. He is patient and encouraging. Just ask Neville, who improved dramatically under the tutelage of Harry.

My friendship with Harry really came together at Christmas that year, not long after my dad was attacked by a snake, named Nagini. Harry had shut himself away after we overheard a conversation that we shouldn’t have, in which there were concerns that Harry was being possessed by Tom. It was not until Hermione turned and managed to get him to let us in that I was able to help him.

That conversation hurt me a lot. I had to open up to Harry in a way I had not done so before. I was blunt about my own experiences of being possessed, something that I rarely ever talked about. But it worked as you could see Harry quickly respond to what I said. That was great, but he quietly admitted that he had forgotten what I had been through and that hurt me deeply. I will give it to him though, because unlike some people, he immediately recognised his mistake and apologised for it.

Harry has since admitted to me that he saw me in a different light after that day. No one seemed to be able to handle his brooding that year and then there was me who was having none of it.

Harry surprised me further, just after Easter, when he opened up to me. To be honest, he didn’t say much and he didn’t need to. His facial expressions said it all. That conversation was probably the first time we spent together alone since the Chamber. I helped him out, I listened to him, we shared chocolate and we had a laugh. It was the most comfortable we had ever felt with each other.

Our relationship was changing rapidly. It pleased and scared me at the same time. I was pleased to be let into his world at a time when he needed friends. I had resigned myself to believing that we would only be just friends. And that was fine. But it did scare me just being a part of his world. It was far more intense than I expected. Fighting Death Eaters at the Ministry proved that, but it was not enough to actually scare me away.

I didn’t fail to notice, though, how Harry tried to protect me at the Ministry. I don’t know if it was intentional or not, but it made me feel good to know he cared, even if I didn’t feel the need to be protected. Ok, so I broke my ankle, but I did well up until that point.

Then Sirius, his godfather, died. Harry was heartbroken and seemed to be lost. I wanted to be there to comfort him and help him. But I didn’t even know how to approach him or talk to him without him shutting me out.

On top of that, I had dumped Michael for being a sore loser. I was not upset; it didn’t bother me even when he ran straight into the arms of Harry’s ex, Cho. I actually moved on pretty quickly, considering I had just broken up with my first boyfriend. But I had my confidence back, I felt like myself again and to me that was a good thing, especially when Dean Thomas noticed me.

I will admit that I did genuinely like him to begin with. Yes, my feelings for Harry had changed and developed, but I couldn’t wait around forever for him. So I started dating Dean towards the end of the school year. As a result, I held off trying to help Harry through his grief. Maybe that was selfish of me at the time, but I didn’t want to ruin what I thought could be a potentially great relationship.

It was during the summer that things changed between me and Harry again. I got to spend actual time with him and we finally got to know one another properly. We got on well; enjoyed each other’s company and we grew closer. Even then, despite me having a boyfriend, I could feel myself falling further for Harry.

The signs were there that Harry was falling for me too. I didn’t realise it at the time, but the signs were definitely there. I was too wrapped up in my new boyfriend, Dean, to truly realise that my dream was coming true before my eyes.

I should have recognised the disappointment in Harry’s eyes when I told him I was going to sit with Dean on the train. I honestly didn’t realise that he wanted our friendship, our newfound closeness to continue at school.

There were other signs, of course, but again I seemed to be oblivious to them. It was not until one night after quidditch practice that I began to suspect Harry’s feelings for me had changed. He and Ron caught me snogging Dean. Now before you all say anything, it was nothing more than an innocent snog. Yes, we were wrapped tightly around each other, but honestly that was the furthest I ever went with Dean, despite what Ron chose to believe back then.

Which is what caused the argument.

Dean scarpered as soon as he possibly he could. But Harry, he stayed, kept me from hexing Ron. He even pushed Ron against the wall for being out of line. But it was the look in Harry’s eyes that confused me. It was one I had never seen before, at least not directed at me. The problem was I couldn’t place the emotion. Was he mad, angry or even jealous? I just didn’t know and it left me confused.

Admittedly, my relationship with Dean started to slowly go downhill after that.

That is not to say that my relationship with Dean was all bad, because that certainly was not the case. It was fun and he was easy to be with. But therein lies part of the problem. Yes, we snogged, but I never allowed him to go further than I was comfortable with and that really was never that far. We felt more like friends at the times, than two people in a relationship. He drove me crazy with his jealousy and his obsession about my friendship with Harry. Though I now realise that was probably because he had realised that Harry was falling for me and I had not. The worst part, and what helped lead to our break up, was his need to constantly help me. It was not every time, but he seemed to have this desperate need to help me through the portrait hole. I hate to be helped. Yes, you can offer me help, but please never just help without seeking my permission.

Anyway, it was during the spring that our break up happened. We were just coming into common room, through the portrait hole, when I felt him try to help me again. Not that I ever told Dean this, but I caught a flash of Harry’s trainer from underneath his invisibility cloak as I looked behind to moan at Dean. As bad as this sounds, I took the opportunity to cause a row and break up with him. I did not feel guilty for it and I actually felt free. But it allowed me to truly open my eyes to the possibility of Harry actually having feelings for me.

Harry did not rush to make his move on me. He was being a gentleman in waiting, knowing I had just broken up with someone. Not that it stopped him from trying to spend more time with me, whether it was to have lunch with me, talk to me in the common room or even walk with me between classes.

I knew that there were other reasons he was holding back. He was unsure of my feelings for him, having been led to believe I had moved on from my crush on him.

There was also the problem of him being best friends with my brother, Ron. Need I remind you of how he reacted when he saw me and Dean snogging? I think it was enough to scare Harry off me just a little. I can honestly understand his reservations as he was different to the other guys. How would Ron react if his baby sister and best mate decided to start dating?

Well, we got to find out after the final match of the quidditch season. Harry had been put in detention with Snape every Saturday for the rest of term for cursing Malfoy, which meant I had to play seeker in the final match. That was a lot of pressure for me to take on. I had to catch the snitch to guarantee us winning the cup, but only after we were up by a certain number of points. I knew I had to do this for Harry; I wanted to catch the snitch and win the cup for him, our captain. Well, we did it and I am so glad we did, because the party we threw afterwards was remembered by everyone for more than just us winning.

It was the day Harry kissed me! ME!

He came through the portrait hole and was overwhelmed to discover that the team had pulled off winning the cup. All I could do was run to him, throw my arms around him and hug him, but instead he caught me off guard and kissed me. And it was everything I ever wanted in a kiss; fireworks, butterflies in my stomach; it felt like the whole world was spinning and that we were only two people who existed. I knew that what we had in that moment would become something special. I just didn’t see it being as short-lived as it was.

Ok, let me rephrase that. I knew there was a distinct possibility that our relationship would not last, not while Tom Riddle was still out
there. I knew Harry would never be truly happy until he had finished Tom off, so he could be free to live his life. I just didn’t think it would be as short-lived as it was.

No, that is still wrong. But even then I am getting ahead of myself.

The couple of months or so we were together were amazing. He was everything I could have asked for in a boyfriend. He was kind and considerate, but never overbearing. He could make me feel weak in the knees from one of his kisses or from just flashing me a simple smile. He made me feel beautiful, he made sure I knew I was special and he made me feel like we were the only two people in the room at times. He made me feel loved and yet neither of us knew that we were in love with each other at the time.

The time we had for each other was minimal. I had my O.W.Ls to study for and they were fast approaching when we started dating and I was knee deep in revision. But he always made sure we had time for each other, even if it was just at lunch time, with us sat down by the lake, having lunch and a great snog.

The best thing about our relationship was that there was never any pressure to move it along quicker or further than either of us was comfortable with. It was easy to be with each other, there was no awkwardness like I feared there would be. Everything just happened naturally.

My only complaint was getting him to be completely open and honest with me. I was still held back from parts of his life, when I wanted to be a part of it completely. But I understood why. He needed to keep certain things to himself. As I found out after the war ended, he needed to keep what he had learnt from Professor Dumbledore between them, Ron and Hermione. When I learnt what it was, I understood why it was so important. The less people who knew the better. But that wasn’t to say he was never open with me. I know he opened up to me about some things that even Ron and Hermione never knew. Actually I still don’t think they know.

By the end of term, my dream had come crashing down around me. Professor Dumbledore had been murdered and Harry had taken his death badly. I tried my best to comfort him and I know he appreciated it. We clung to each other in those final days of our relationship. Not just because of Dumbledore’s death, but because we both knew what was coming. We both knew it was inevitable; either if neither of us wanted it to happen.

When it happened, I sat there and I listened to what he had to say. I made sure he knew how I felt about him. Both of us understood that what was between us was not over, not truly. It was on hold until Tom Riddle could be vanquished. I understood his reasons and I supported him in his decision. I was not angry, but I was heartbroken. But I also knew Harry was as well. All I could hope for though was that I had given him something to fight for, to live for and only if he needed to, to die for.

The next few weeks were hard for me. None of my family, except for Ron, knew what had happened between me and Harry, so none of them knew why I was so upset on my return home. I did my best to be strong, to be happy, but it was not easy, especially when Ron felt the need to bring up what had happened. That talk was not something I wanted to have with him, as he didn’t seem to understand that despite how cut up I was about the break up, I fully understood Harry’s reasons. Even so, I didn’t want him interfering in something that was none of his business, but mine and Harry’s. Somehow I knew he wouldn’t let the matter drop, especially once Harry arrived.

I’m not going to say it was awkward him being there, because it honestly wasn’t. It was easy to hide away from him with so many people in the house and the final wedding preparations were under way keeping everyone busy. No one noticed a change in our relationship, because no one knew that we had dated. I did my best to be strong and show Harry that I was fine with what had happened, even though I was far from fine. I knew they were not going back to school and I knew they were going leave after the wedding to do whatever it was they needed to do, so I made sure to send Harry off with one hell of a memory of me.

I called him into my room on his birthday and I kissed him like I had never kissed him before, making sure to pour every ounce of love I felt for him into it. I was scared that he might push me away for doing so, but he didn’t. He kissed me back with the same intensity and feelings as me. I have no idea what might have happen though had we not been interrupted by my idiot brother, Ron. Had I not been feeling so emotional knowing that was probably the last time I would get to kiss Harry till the war was over or even ever, than I may have bat-bogeyed Ron. But I didn’t, I couldn’t. I had to turn away from Harry the moment we pulled away from each other because I could feel the tears pooling up in my eyes, because I hated that he had to go, that we couldn’t be together and that I couldn’t come and out tell him just how I felt about him.

Little did I know that the following day was when everything would come crashing down and that it would lead me to not seeing Harry until the following May.

I didn’t fail to notice how Harry’s eyes lingered on me throughout the wedding ceremony. Admittedly, it was going through my head how I wished it was me and Harry standing there, exchanging our wedding vows.

Hold on one moment while I freak out for a minute.

That is happening today! Finally!

Ok, back to my story. Sorry.

I enjoyed myself at the wedding. I couldn’t mope about just because I couldn’t dance with the one person I was not able to at the time. It didn’t help that Harry was in disguise through the use of Polyjuice Potion, so it was not like I could dance with him the way I wanted to anyway. But I do know that he had words with Viktor Krum, making it known I was taken and had a big, scary boyfriend. My heart leapt in joy when I heard about that, knowing that while perhaps we could not be together at that moment in time, we still belonged to one another even if we couldn’t tell the world as I wanted to. I would have stood on the roof of The Burrow if I could have and shouted it to the whole world.

Then reality crashed in around us. The Ministry had fallen. Death Eaters appeared, questioning us on Harry’s whereabouts. Harry, Ron and Hermione had escaped quickly. We were now living in a different world, one we were trying to fight against and there was nothing I could do. But I had faith in Harry to do what he needed to do and finish off Tom for good.

The next nine months were hell on earth in my opinion. When I look back, I often wonder how I managed to survive those dark days, but I did. I found the strength to carry on as if Harry and I had never even been together, as if I was not missing him desperately.

Not that anyone who had known about our relationship believed me.

With Harry gone, Tom having taken over the Ministry and some really awful laws having been pushed through, I was forced back to Hogwarts, which was now run by Death Eaters. It was oppressive to say the least. Dark Arts, as we were now taught, was about learning the cruciatus curse and Muggle studies, which was now compulsory, was about how muggles were filthy animals. Punishments were cruel for even the smallest infraction. A culture of fear had taken over the castle as the Carrows slowly attempted crush our spirits and destroy any hope that we had that this war could be won.

I didn’t want to take the abuse they were handing out, so inspired by my Harry, we reformed the DA and began to rebel and undermine them. It was the only thing we could do to protect the younger years, to make it known to the Death Eaters who resided in the castle that we not going to take this lying down. I knew I was risking so much by doing so, especially my own safety, the very thing that had made Harry push me away, but I felt like there was no other choice. No child should be made to live that way.

We even tried to steal the Sword of Gryffindor for Harry, knowing that he needed it. But our plan failed and we ended up in detention, thankfully with Hagrid. Even though we failed, I felt like I was doing something to help Harry. Little did I know that it was when they overheard a conversation about our attempt, Hermione and Harry finally understood the significance of the sword within their task. I may not have got them the sword, but it seems I helped them to discover information they desperately needed.

Things got progressively worse as the school year continued and by the time Easter came along, it had got to the point that many students had taken to hiding in the Room of Requirement for safety. I had chosen to go home for Easter, around the same time it was discovered Ron was with Harry and that meant the Weasleys had no choice but to go into hiding. The worse part about being in hiding was knowing Harry was at Shell Cottage, my brother’s house and not being able to go there to see him. All I could do was send my love with Bill to them. To me, it wasn’t enough, I needed to say more, see him, anything, but I couldn’t.

Then the moment we had been waiting for arrived. Harry was back at Hogwarts and they were preparing to fight. I coerced the twins into taking me. No one was going to stop me from being there for Harry and fighting alongside him. I needed to be there when he finished this once and for all.

But it wasn’t to be. At least, not to begin with.

Of all the things that could happen as we were preparing to fight, an argument, yes, an actual argument broke out about me being there. My mother wanted me to leave and I wanted to stay. Harry sided with my mum and I respected that. I understood his reasons without him needing to say so. It was agreed that I would stay put in the Room of Requirement while the battle took place. I did to begin with.

Needless to say, Harry needed the room in a different form, so I broke free and took up my place in the fighting. I hated breaking my promise to stay put, but I needed to be a part of this if I was ever going to have a chance to be with Harry.

I honestly don’t remember much of the battle. Certain parts stick out to me more than others do. Fred dead, laid out in the Great Hall. Harry disappearing, no one knowing where he was. Helping and comforting an injured girl out on the grounds, feeling like someone was watching us just for a moment.

But there was one moment that stuck out more than others.

Harry.

Dead.

In the arms of Hagrid.

My worst fear come true. My heart quite literally ripped from me. Torn apart into a million pieces right in front of me. I had nothing left to live for. What was the point if Harry was not there to share our lives together?

The fighting broke out again and I had no fear of dying. Not anymore. I fought Bellatrix Lestrange, determined to take her down, even if it meant me dying in the process. The way I saw it was I would take her down and I could join Harry. I didn’t want to live if I couldn’t be with him. I would rather have joined him in death if it meant we could be together. That was and is how much I love him.

But then he was there suddenly, protecting my mum from Tom after she had taken down Bellatrix herself, for her nearly killing me.

He was there.

Right in front of my eyes.

Alive.

The next thing I know Tom is on the floor, dead and Harry had won. He had done it. He had fulfilled his destiny. We could finally be together.

I got to see him up close, touch him, and be near him briefly. But it was not for another few hours before we reunited.

I got to be where I felt the safest, in his arms. I got to kiss him, no longer caring about who saw us, about who knew how we felt about each other. But more importantly, I got to tell him just how much I loved him and to hear those words from him too.

We were inseparable from that day on. Any spare time we had was always for each other. We decided to pick up from where we left off. Neither of us had any desire to go back and relive those few weeks we shared together at Hogwarts, we only wanted to move forward with our relationship. And that is what we did.

And now three years later, my dream is about to come true. I am about to walk down that aisle, say my vows and become:

Ginevra Molly Potter.
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