Stoicism (and the Breakdown of...) by iluvfanfics
Summary: COMPLETED. When something hurts too much, when it distracts you from your purpose, it's better to push it away--right? A short story about Harry and Ginny's journey after Dumbledore's funeral. Sometimes, happiness just has to wait.
Rating: R
Categories: Post-HBP
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2007.01.07
Updated: 2007.01.08
Index
Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Chapter 3: Chapter 3
Chapter 4: Chapter 4
Chapter 5: Chapter 5
Chapter 6: Chapter 6
Chapter 7: Chapter 7
Chapter 8: Chapter 8
Chapter 9: Chapter 9
Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Author's Notes: Thanks to my beta, Indie, who fixed it.
(Thunk.)
Rubbish.
(Thunk.)
Rubbish again.
(Thunk, thunk, thunk.)
Rubbish, rubbish, rubbish.
So pretty much everything in here is rubbish, Harry Potter decided. His whole life, the things that mattered to him anyway, could be contained in this one school trunk…and it wasn’t even full.
He was sitting on the bed he’d occupied for the last five years at his Aunt and Uncle’s house, his old school trunk on the floor before him. At Hermione’s insistence he was finally cleaning the thing out. She insisted that he do so before they left to go track down the rest of Voldemort’s Horcruxes and claimed she wouldn’t go anywhere with him until it was finished. He’d been tempted to not clean the trunk and see if she was serious but something in her voice told him it wouldn’t be that simple. Plus if he was honest with himself, he knew he would probably need her before the end.
“Honestly, Harry,” she’d chided him, as she stared down at the mess inside his trunk in disgust. “When was the last time you organised this chaos? How do you ever expect to find anything?” She handed him a black rubbish bag and pointed at the trunk wordlessly before slamming the door behind her. She and Ron had a date to “scout the neighbourhood” but Harry had a pretty good idea as to what exactly went on during their “scouting” missions. The reconnaissance had been Ron’s idea after all.
Harry didn’t care what they did as long as he didn’t have to watch it. Let them grab their happiness when and wherever they could get it. Who knows how much longer they would have?
He glumly shoved another set of old school notebooks into the trash bag Hermione had nicked from his Aunt’s pristine kitchen. His two best friends had finally made things official the moment the three of them had stepped foot in Harry’s bedroom at Number 4 Privet Drive. They’d been dancing around each other for years, and Harry was elated they’d finally admitted what he and everyone else had known for far too long–Hermione and Ron were made for each other. Despite the events of the past two months, he’d never seen them happier with each other.
Which was exactly why he kept trying to stop them from coming on this quest with him. The two of them had made it clear they would not leave him and, while a part of him was overjoyed with the loyalty of his friends, another part was cringing with the expected guilt that was sure to consume him if one of them didn’t make it back from this dangerous mission. They were trying to destroy bits of Voldemort’s soul–the chance of them all making it back was slim. And he couldn’t imagine one without the other.
Pushing aside the thought, Harry focused on the task before him. What did one really pack to destroy an evil wizard? Invisibility cloak? Check. Useful schoolbooks and other materials nicked from the school library? Check. Clothes, racing broom, Chocolate Frog cards…ah, no, that was definitely rubbish. His mind automatically sorted the contents of his trunk into two distinct categories: items necessary for survival and items that were not. Those that weren’t necessary were trash. It was a clear-cut system, and Harry tried not to think about the many memories he was casually throwing away.
He caught a glimpse of something red buried underneath a pile of old parchment and he reached for it, tugging whatever it was out of the mess…and froze.
Sudden, swift, aching pain pierced his abdomen and shot upwards into his chest ripping an already existing hole into an even bigger chasm until he was sure the cavity had consumed his heart and lungs, making it impossible for him to breathe and to feel…anything. He was cold and numb, his eyes fixed on the soft, red cloth that he had completely forgotten about until now.
His hands fisted in the fabric, pulling it taut. It was hers. He knew it with certainty, the memory of when she had handed it to him, laughter shining in her brown eyes, rushing over him like a wave. Even if he hadn’t remembered when and where he had gotten it, the lingering perfume of the scarf would have told him it was hers.
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“You look cold, Potter,” she’d said, her mouth twitching with amusement. He rolled his eyes at her and tried not to shiver but she caught him at it anyway. She laughed and snuggled further down into the cloak he’d forced on her, insisting it was his chivalrous right to freeze while she kept warm.
She unbuttoned the fastening around her neck and held the woollen cloak open with both arms. “C’mon,” she said, her eyes twinkling mischievously, “I’ll share.”
He had gulped, because what they had was still new and they hadn’t been that close before. But a force greater than his own had compelled him forward into the shelter of the black tent she was offering him. He stepped into her embrace and she wrapped the cloak around the both of them, her arms coming up to wrap themselves around his neck as she pressed her lithe frame to his in a way he had only dreamed about until that moment. His arms went around her waist automatically and, as if he had some notion of what he was doing, he dipped his head down to capture those laughing lips, unsure if it was her or the cloak that had made him warm. After a few bright moments, he pulled away panting, his blood burning. His entire body felt like it was on fire and he’d stepped back, knowing that the way his hands itched to rip the cloak off of both of them was a sign it was time to slow down. She’d stared at him with glazed eyes, her lips swollen from his kisses, and let the cloak envelop her once more.
He’d held out a trembling hand and they’d resumed their walk. When a sudden breeze sprang up and he’d shivered again, her hands had automatically gone to the fastenings on the cloak but he’d begged her with silent eyes to not tempt him again. She’d smiled demurely and instead slowly unwrapped the red scarf from around her neck before tying it around his own neck. He’d lifted the ends of the soft cotton and inhaled deeply, grinning when he smelled her scent on the fabric. The scarf had kept him warm the rest of the afternoon and that night, when he slept with the scarf tied to his bedpost, the unique smell of her had wrapped itself around him, sinking into his subconscious so that instead of nightmares, he’d dreamt of her and sunlight and long, slow sweet kisses that were like a drug.
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Harry hardly realised that he had buried his face in the scarf. He was lost in the memory and of the flowery smell that had always enveloped every bit of her.
Hermione and Ron chose that moment to return from their walk and they stopped short in the doorway, surprised to see their friend sitting in front of his still messy trunk, his hands fisted in a piece of red fabric. Harry looked up at them with unfocused eyes and his friends were shocked to see more emotion swimming in the bright green orbs then they had seen in two months.
“H-Harry?” Hermione said uncertainly.
Ron could have told her to be quiet, to not break the spell–it was the first time he’d caught a glimpse of the old Harry in weeks–and just as he suspected, her inquiry caused the shutters to fall back over his friend’s eyes.
“Back so soon?” Harry asked tonelessly as he shoved the scarf back into his trunk. He couldn’t bring himself to throw it away.
Ron remained silent; sure that Hermione would not let this show of emotion go by without a fight. He watched as his girlfriend leaned down and slowly pulled the red fabric back out of the Harry’s trunk. It was a scarf and it looked familiar.
“What is this?” Hermione asked in a hushed voice, her eyes fastened on the scarf.
Harry averted his eyes and busied himself with sorting through the stack of papers in his lap. “S’nothing,” he said casually. “Just a scarf.”
“That’s Ginny’s scarf,” Ron said, suddenly recognizing it. “Fred and George gave it to her last Christmas.”
Harry’s hands sorted parchment faster. He did NOT want his friends asking him questions about Ginny–or why he was sitting in his room smelling an old scarf of hers. The subject had been taboo since he had broken up with Ron’s younger sister at the end of the term, right after Dumbledore had died. He’d broken up with her to protect her, he had informed them in a hard voice, and he didn’t want to talk about it. They didn’t have to know it was one of the hardest things he’d ever had to do and that every day, the hole it had left inside of him got a bit bigger.
“Right,” Hermione said firmly, “that’s it.” She let the scarf fall back into the trunk and slammed the lid shut. Both boys jumped at the sound. She plopped herself down on the trunk facing Harry and grabbed his shoulders forcing him to look at her.
“Harry,” she declared, “you’re a mess.”
“Gee thanks,” he answered dryly. “You really know how to build a bloke up.”
Hermione shook her head, her fingers biting into his shoulders as she shook him a little. “Stop it,” she said, her face completely serious. “This isn’t a joke. I mean it.”
She let her hands drop and sat back. “You’ve changed,” she said in a low voice. “And we all know why.” She locked her eyes on his, as if daring him to stop her from speaking.
“You need her.”
Ron watched the bravery of his girlfriend and was immensely proud she’d had the courage to say what they’d both been thinking–what they had in fact, just been discussing on their walk around the neighbourhood. Harry’s attitude had grown steadily worse since they’d returned from Hogwarts. No one could blame him; he’d lost a mentor and was preparing himself to hunt down an evil wizard. But instead of snapping at his friends like he usually did when he was upset about something, he’d completely shut down. He refused to discuss Dumbledore except when it was strictly necessary and he’d made it clear the subject of Ginny was off limits. He didn’t look well either. Dark shadows had appeared under his eyes and his face had taken on a haunted look. Ron knew his friend wasn’t sleeping well but had remained quietly in bed each night while Harry fought off his nightmares. He’d heard his sister’s name murmured more than once but since they’d always been followed by whispered pleadings for her life, he hadn’t called him on it. Ron had come to the conclusion, with Hermione’s help of course, that Harry’s stoicism was out of control.
“Drop it, Hermione,” Harry finally said sharply. “It’s none of your business.”
“Maybe not,” she agreed. “But you’re my friend, and I can’t sit by and let you do this to yourself.”
“I’m not doing anything to myself,” Harry said, a warning note in his voice. “I’m fine.”
Ron took a deep breath. “No, you’re not,” he said bravely. “You’re losing it.”
“I’m not losing anything,” Harry said with a hollow laugh. “I’m perfectly sane.”
It was Ron’s turn to shake his head. “I don’t mean losing your mind,” he clarified. “I mean you’re losing sight of what’s important, of what’s real, of what Dumbledore tried to teach you.” He walked over to the trunk and gently pushed Hermione off so he could open the trunk back up. He reached down and snagged the scarf again so he could thrust it in Harry’s face.
“This is real,” he said quietly, shaking the scarf a little. “Whatever it means to you, whatever it was you were doing with it when we came in here–that’s what you’re fighting for. And pushing us away, refusing to talk about it, to talk about her, to face what she meant to you…all it does is make you more like him.”
Ron dropped the scarf in Harry’s lap and Harry stared at him, shocked. “I am NOT like Voldemort,” he finally said hoarsely.
“Not yet,” Hermione said. The bed sagged with her weight as she sat next to him.
“Harry,” she said urgently. “The difference between you and Voldemort has always been your capacity to love. Your friendships, your loyalty, your bravery–those make you different from him and it’s why you’re going to beat him. But lately, all you’ve done is shut down those parts of you–you can’t ignore them just because it hurts.”
“We can’t really imagine how it must feel,” Ron said slowly, “and, truthfully, I wouldn’t want to with everything you’ve been through. But mate, I’m tired of hearing you sob my sister’s name every night. I don’t think pushing her away is the answer.”
Harry’s hands tightened in the scarf on his lap. “You don’t know anything about it,” he said tightly. “You don’t know what it’s like-“ he cut off, shaking his head to stop the lump from rising in his throat. He cleared his throat loudly and continued, “She’s safer without me.”
“Bollocks,” Hermione said suddenly, and both boys stared at her. Ron couldn’t stop a smile from spreading over his face.
“Hermione Granger,” he said delightedly. “Did you just curse?”
Hermione flushed. “Shut it, Ronald.” She turned to Harry who was smiling faintly at her. “Oh come on,” she said exasperatedly, “it’s not the first time I’ve said a bad word.”
“Actually-“ Ron began but she stopped him with a look and he shut his mouth with a snap.
“Harry,” Hermione said, suddenly businesslike. “We understand what it feels like to worry about someone. We have each other and we worry about you of course, but Ginny isn’t safe–no one is.”
“And you’re a real idiot if you think Snape and Malfoy didn’t hightail it to Voldemort and tell him all about your school year,” Ron pointed out.
“She’s still better off without me,” Harry insisted. He couldn’t understand why his friends didn’t get it. He was a walking death trap. Everyone close to him got killed–they’d had this argument a million times.
“Oh really,” Hermione said shrewdly. She stood up from the bed and walked over to her neatly organized trunk in the corner of the tiny bedroom, grabbing a piece of parchment from the top. It was a letter from Mrs. Weasley she’d received yesterday but had refused to share with them. She unrolled the scroll and began reading aloud:
“Dear Hermione,
I know you said we shouldn’t write too much but I’m at my wits end and thought you might be able to help. Do you have any idea what might be wrong with Ginny? She won’t talk to me about it and she moves like a ghost around the house, snapping at everyone. She pretends nothing is wrong but I’m her mother and I can tell something is going on. She’s lost weight and isn’t sleeping well. At night I can hear her nightmares but by the time I make it to her room, she’s woken herself up and refuses to be comforted. She used to be so loving and laughing all the time. Even Fred and George can’t get through to her…”
Hermione stopped reading and threw the letter at Harry, hitting him in the head with the scroll. “Doesn’t sound better off to me.”
Harry unrolled the letter on his lap and stared down at Mrs. Weasley’s words. He ignored the worry she broadcasted in her letter and soaked up the information about Ginny. His forced moratorium on the subject meant he hadn’t heard much about her since they broke up. He wasn’t pleased to see that she wasn’t eating or sleeping and it occurred to him in a sudden burst of realization that they were both far too much alike.
He crumpled the letter in his hand. “Ginny understands,” he said in a low voice. “She knows why-“
“That doesn’t mean she has to like it,” Hermione interrupted.
“Do you think I do!?” Harry finally thundered at her, rising to his feet. “I don’t expect her to like it! I don’t like it either! I HATE IT. I hate that Voldemort killed my parents, I hate that Sirius and Dumbledore are both DEAD, I hate that he possessed Ginny and made her do horrible things she still has nightmares about! I hate that because of HIM, I have to spend what should have been one of the best years of my life, hunting down these bits of evil he’s hidden all over the place! I hate that you and Ron are walking into danger with me and there’s nothing I can do about it because I need you both so damned much!”
He stopped, breathing heavily, staring at his friends whose mouths had fallen open in shock with his tirade. “I hate everything about this Hermione,” he said suddenly tired. “I hate the emptiness inside of me and I hate the emptiness I’m sure is inside of her but there’s nothing either one of us can do about it–not until he’s gone.”
Harry sat back down on his bed with a thump and put his head in his hands. “I’m not like Voldemort,” he said, his voice muffled. “I’m not going to ever be like him. Not unless something happens to her.” He looked up at them.
“Which is why we have to be apart,” he stressed. “She has to be as safe as I can make her.”
Ron and Hermione looked at each other and then back at Harry. “All right mate,” Ron finally said. “We’re with you, whatever happens.”
Hermione nodded and reached for Ron’s hand. “I’m sorry Harry,” she said quietly. “I just want you to be happy.”
“I know ‘Mione,” he said. And he did. He knew they both meant well but he just could not let himself dwell in his memories of Ginny. It hurt too much; the pain clouded his thoughts and he knew instinctively that his judgment where she was concerned was faulty. Happiness would just have to wait.
“I promise I won’t push either of you away so much,” he said, offering a compromise. “And I’ll try to be nicer about things, but please…Ginny…I just can’t–it’s too private.”
They both nodded again and shaking off the tension in the room, sat down on the floor to help him finish cleaning out his trunk. Harry relaxed and watched his friends sort through his memories. He smiled. Their devotion made the hole in his chest shrink, if only for a moment. It was enough–for now.
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Ginny ran through the fields behind the Burrow until she thought her lungs would burst. Faster and faster she pushed herself, her arms and legs pumping over hills and rocks until sweat ran down her back and her muscles burned. She ran as if she was being chased but nothing was behind her except days filled with loneliness, longing and mind numbing worry. She ran as if she had something to run towards, as if more of those same days didn’t stretch out before her like the fields she ran through. She ran every day when the sun was at its highest peak; she wanted the exercise to wear her out as much as possible so that maybe when she fell into bed every night she would be too exhausted to dream.But the dreams still came. Sometimes they were nightmares of things that had actually happened–the Chamber, the Department of Mysteries, the battle at Hogwarts two months ago. Sometimes her imagination created nightmares just for her–of her family being slaughtered, of her friends dying, of Tom Riddle’s eyes focused on her as he cast a final Killing Curse at Harry. In those nightmares, Harry usually died but only after she had pleaded with Tom to spare him. It never happened of course, and Harry always slumped to the floor, his eyes glassy and no longer looking directly at her. She usually woke up about then, filled with guilt that she hadn’t been able to save him as he had saved her so many times.
That single thought was what drove her every day–saving Harry. She studied in secret, learning wand movements and defence techniques until her brain swam with information. She’d talked Charlie into teaching her some Muggle fighting moves and sworn him to secrecy. She kept her eyes and ears open, listening for any information about the Order or Voldemort’s activities.
It was all she had left to give Harry. She knew why he’d dumped her–he had things to do and truthfully, she had expected nothing less of him. Voldemort had to be stopped and she was a distraction–one he couldn’t afford. But she’d be damned if she was going to sit back on the sidelines. She knew he was going to leave on some quest Dumbledore had entrusted to him, and she would not force him to take her along, but she could force him to accept whatever help she could give him.
Harry had to save the world but who would save him? Professor McGonagall had had a little chat with her after Dumbledore’s funeral and she had left their meeting knowing that Ron and Hermione could only provide so much for their friend. There was a role only Ginny Weasley had to fill, and she was determined she would do it. For all their love and support, Ron and Hermione’s friendship couldn’t always reach the deepest parts of Harry.
Her feet pounded over ground and her breathing grew laboured with each step. She was nearing the end of her five miles–it was almost time to turn around and go back. The edge of the cliffs was in sight, and Ginny felt her heart swell with relief like it always did whenever she reached them.
She’d always thought of them as her cliffs. No one else ever came out here except for her. After the Chamber of Secrets, she’d spent hours here, thinking on the edge of the precipice. The freedom she found, suspended at the edge of her tiny little world, was sacred, and she cherished it even more now that her days were spent locked up in the security her parents were trying to hold onto.
Panting, she stopped a few feet from the edge and leaned over, resting her hands on her knees while she forced her heart to calm down. She couldn’t stop long but she needed the isolation for a moment. Harry was coming today and she had to be prepared so she didn’t fall into a big puddle of goo as soon as he stepped through the door.
She straightened and put her hands on her hips, the tension easing from her body for a few sweet moments as she stared at the horizon. It was hard enough living with the memory of what they’d had for a few bright weeks without him around. But now they would be living in the same house, and she was sure the slightest glance from Harry would bring back moments she’d rather forget. Frankly, it was easier to force herself to forget how it had felt to have his hands on her body, his mouth on hers, his breath tickling her ear as he whispered sweet things to her. A memory flashed unbidden to her mind and she couldn’t stop the aching hole it created inside of her. She tried so hard to fill that hole every day with books, training and mindless labour but it was like a festering wound that opened up every morning after she suffered another night where Harry died in her nightmares.
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“Ginny,” Pavarti whispered to her from across the table, “Harry’s staring at you again.”
She lifted her head to find those mesmerising green eyes boring into her from across the hushed library. Her heart and stomach flip-flopped together as she met his gaze. She scowled at him but it only made him smile at her, his eyes practically glowing. She huffed and bent her head over her textbook, determined to ignore him.
She’d told him to leave her alone; she had her OWLS to think about it, and he was an immense distraction, despite his attempts to help her study. His idea of studying usually involved touching some part of her while he quizzed her, and Ginny just couldn’t think about the Goblin Wars when Harry’s broom-calloused fingers were absentmindedly stroking the patch of skin between her sock and trouser leg.
She had been so engrossed in ignoring her boyfriend she hadn’t noticed him stand up and move with a silent grace towards her. She stiffened when she felt him behind her chair; there was no mistaking that presence that arrived before he did. He bent over her form, his weight leaning on arms that he placed on either side of her and she felt the brush of his eternally messy hair against her temple as he leaned into her, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke.
“Ginny, could I talk to you for a moment?” he asked in a low voice. His breath tickled her neck and Ginny fought back a gasp as his nose nuzzled her cheek. “In private,” he added.
Parvati and Lavender, who were both sharing her table, looked at her with unmistakable envy.
“No Harry,” she had said with gritted teeth. “I’m revising. I told you to leave me alone for five hours. Can’t it wait?”
“No,” he said good-naturedly. “And it’s been over four hours anyway–that’s long enough. How is this relationship ever going to work if you can’t compromise?” He winked at Pavarti and Lavender who covered their mouths to keep from giggling.
“Five hours was the compromise,” Ginny said hotly, a bit louder than she meant to. “Now go away before I sic Hermione on you. She told you to leave me alone.”
Harry pressed his face into the crook of her neck, and Ginny shuddered when she felt the familiar trace of his tongue on her skin. She knew Pavarti and Lavender could only see the crown of his head as he bent over her but she had a feeling they could tell what he was doing anyway.
“Ginny…” he whispered. “Please?”
Ginny felt herself weakening. She looked down at her Care of Magical Creatures textbook. She was already ahead on the revising schedule Hermione had forced on her…
“Fine, but just for a few minutes,” she said, relenting. She looked up at him suspiciously as he stepped back, clearly delighted with himself, and held out a hand to her. “Where are we going?”
“Somewhere close,” he promised. “You can just leave your stuff here.” He smiled brilliantly at Parvati and Lavender. “You’ll watch Ginny’s stuff for a few minutes won’t you?”
“Of course,” they sighed in unison. Ginny shot them a helpless look over her shoulder as Harry dragged her away but they only waved gaily at her, mirth in their eyes as they watched him kidnap her from revising.
Harry didn’t say a word as he pulled her deep into the recesses of the library, past the Restricted Section towards a darkened corner with a door half-hidden by shadows. He kept his grip firmly on her hand as he waved his wand over the doorknob and ushered her quickly inside. No doubt they were not supposed to be here.
“Where did you find this place?” Ginny asked curiously, looking around at what appeared to be an abandoned broom closet.
“Marauder’s Map,” he said briefly. He tugged her to him and wrapped his arms firmly around her waist. “I’ve missed you,” he said, nuzzling her cheek.
“It’s only been four hours,” she protested, already breathless. Her eyes slid shut of their own accord as he began pressing soft kisses along the line of her jaw. Damn. Her body was always betraying her.
She had felt Harry smile into her skin, his glasses pressed against her cheek as his kisses became wetter. He slid his mouth down the side of her neck to suckle gently on the spot that always made her gasp.
This time was no different, and she gave up the fight, hooking her arms around his neck and lifting up to wrap her legs around his waist. His hands slid up her thighs, underneath the grey pleated skirt of her uniform. He filled his hands with her buttocks, holding her to him as he backed her into the closest wall.
“Let’s get one thing straight,” Harry had said in a husky voice as her shoulders hit the wall first and he held her there suspended against the cold limestone, her entire being wrapped around him. His lips hovered over hers.
“It’s never going to be enough.”
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And it hadn’t been, Ginny decided, staring out at the valley she was perched on top of. The broom closets, the Gryffindor common room, the Quidditch Pitch, the Owlery, the boys’ dorm–none of it had been enough. They’d held on as tight as they could for as long as they could, and it still hadn’t been enough.
She turned around and began slowly jogging back to the Burrow. Harry, Ron and Hermione had probably arrived by now and she was in no hurry to get back.
Chapter 3: Chapter 3
Harry was torn. They’d been at the Burrow since lunchtime, and he had yet to set eyes on Ginny. Part of him wanted to avoid her as much as possible but another part of him desperately needed to see her, to reassure himself that she was safe. This part of him had been ruthlessly suppressed for weeks but the monster inside his chest would not be denied as soon as he had set foot inside the house and signs of her had been everywhere.Their arrival had been received with fierce hugs from Mrs. Weasley and hearty slaps from Ron’s father and brothers. The Weasleys welcomed him with open arms, as they always had. Every one of them had taken a moment to ask him seriously how he was doing–how he was really doing–as if they each expected to be the one to break down the barrier he was projecting. He’d lied to them all, even Remus–his father’s only remaining best friend–when he’d said that he was fine. He smiled at them bravely and had been able to tentatively convince most of them.
He walked into the kitchen and grabbed an apple from the bowl on the large wooden table. He was just about to bite down when the unmistakable voices of Hermione and Mrs. Weasley drifted through the open kitchen window. Something in their tone stopped him and he sidled closer to catch what they were saying.
“…is she doing?” Hermione was asking.
He heard Mrs. Weasley sigh. “I honestly don’t know, dear. She’s not the same but she says she is just fine. She’s snappish when confronted about it but spends most of her day ignoring us. I don’t have any idea what is going on inside her head or what she is doing with her time.”
Harry imagined Mrs. Weasley shaking her head. “I’ve always prided myself on understanding the uniqueness of each of my children, but Ginny is so like myself sometimes that I’ve sort of a blind spot about her. She spends hours running and exercising. I think she’s trying to exhaust herself so she can sleep better, the poor dear.”
Her voice lowered. “She has nightmares all the time now. The worse ones are when she screams Harry’s name–I can hear her clear across the house. I’m about ready to call Poppy in to see if she can help her.”
Hermione murmured something Harry couldn’t quite catch.
“What happened between them, Hermione?” Mrs. Weasley asked urgently. “I don’t understand this at all. Whatever happened it can’t be worth this. Ginny’s not herself. She’s so…so…”
“Stoic,” Hermione finished. “I know. Harry’s been the same way. We finally said something, Ron and I, and he promised to be better but not where she’s concerned. He won’t even discuss her. It’s like they’re trying to shut themselves off…”
Harry decided he couldn’t bear to hear his life dissected in such a manner and left the kitchen. He almost felt like laughing at them. He didn’t know about Ginny but he only wished he could shut himself off.
His thoughts were halted when he collided with a petite redhead blur at the edge of the stairway. He’d been so consumed with his thoughts he hadn’t been watching where he was going and as soon as he touched the person he knew he’d made a big mistake. He shut his eyes tightly and stepped away, forcing himself to let go of the arms he’d grabbed to steady himself.
“Hullo, Harry,” a soft voice said. Harry opened his eyes and drank in his first sight of Ginny in two months. She was so bright and beautiful that she almost hurt his eyes. His breath left him and his step faltered.
“Hi,” he managed, putting out a hand on the banister to catch himself.
They stared at each other for what seemed like an eternity, and Harry had to clench the apple in his hand to stop himself for reaching for her.
She swallowed, and he watched the movement of her throat fascinated, remembering when he’d been able to leisurely press kisses up and down the creamy skin.
“How are you?” she finally asked, somewhat breathlessly.
He put one foot on the first step of the stairs and pushed himself up so that he was closer to her but also so that he wouldn’t have to look directly at her. They shared the same step now, he on his way up and she on her way down–each staring straight ahead as if they had mutually decided this would be easier if they didn’t look at each other.
“Not good,” he answered, deciding she was the one person to whom he couldn’t lie. “You?”
“Miserable,” she confirmed. She looked down at her feet, and the movement caused her hair to fall forward. The softness of it brushed his cheek as it moved over her shoulder, and he shut his eyes again, instantly quelling a hundred memories of burying his face in it as she moved against him.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her reach out a hand towards his arm and then pull it back. He was glad. He didn’t think he could stand her touching him. It would make things too hard. He shoved his hands deep into his pockets to keep himself from touching her as well.
“What have you been doing with yourself?” he asked, curious as to what she was keeping from her mother.
“Learning how to defend myself,” she said, shrugging a bare shoulder. She was wearing a white, strapless sundress with a flowing skirt that made his mouth water. “It’s the only thing left for me to do, I suppose. I’m not going to be caught off guard.”
Harry approved. “That’s good,” he said. “I want you to be safe.”
“I know,” she said, still not looking at him.
“Ginny, I-“
“Not here,” she hissed at him vehemently. He didn’t know how she knew what he wanted to say but he shut his mouth, mortified that she stopped him from apologising to her.
She turned bright brown eyes to him. “I know,” she stressed to him, her eyes searching his face. “I know.”
He nodded, his eyes meeting hers. “I’ve heard you’ve not been sleeping,” he said in a low voice. “What can I do?”
She smiled at him faintly. “You can kill that bastard,” she said bluntly. Her eyes continued to roam his face as if she was memorising it. “I can see you’ve had similar troubles.”
It was his turn to smile. “Yeah,” he confirmed. “But it will help knowing that you can take care of yourself.”
She flipped her hair back over her shoulder. “I could always take care of myself, Potter,” she reminded him.
“I know,” he conceded. “But every little bit helps.”
She took a deep breath and then wrenched her eyes from his to look back down the stairs. “I’d better go,” she said. “Mum’s expecting me to help with dinner.”
Harry nodded again. “See you at dinner then,” he said formally. He forced himself to take another step up the stairs and then another until he was slowly climbing away from her. When he reached the first landing, he looked back and saw her slumped forward against the wall. Her forehead rested on the wood, her hands clenched into white-knuckled fists on either side of her head. She was taking deep breaths as if trying to calm herself.
A lump rose in Harry’s throat, and he opened his mouth to say something, anything to make both of them feel better. As if she sensed the mistake he was about to make she looked up at him and allowed him to see a look of complete and utter longing on her face before the mask fell back into place. She shook her head at him, and he shut his mouth. He felt his own face settle into an expression that he hoped conveyed his own sense of longing and loneliness for her. He was pleased when she inhaled sharply before they both turned away, heading in opposite directions.
*****
“Everyone is going to think it’s really strange if you don’t,” Hermione muttered to him as he swung her around the dance floor. “You’re only going to make it more obvious to everyone.”
“Make what obvious?” Harry asked disinterestedly.
“That you’re in love with her,” Hermione insisted.
Harry forced a laugh. “Hermione, I hardly think that NOT dancing with Ginny at her brother’s wedding is going to be a red flag for Death Eaters as to how I feel about her.”
Hermione huffed in response.
“I’m not dancing with her,” Harry said in a low voice. “I just can’t. She understands, trust me.”
“How do you know that?” his friend asked. “Have you spoken to her?”
“I just know,” Harry said. “Ginny gets it, believe me.”
Hermione huffed again. “I don’t understand you two. You were all over each other at Hogwarts and now you barely look at each other.”
“Hermione,” Harry said urgently. His grip on her waist tightened. “You have to listen to me. Leave. It. Alone. Let us do this ourselves.”
“Do what?” Hermione asked exasperatedly. “You aren’t even trying to work things out. Merlin, Harry, we’re going to be leaving soon, and who knows when we’ll be back–do you want to leave things like this?”
Harry’s face turned stony. “I’m doing the best I can,” he said in a hard voice. “I can’t dance with her because it’s hard to be in the same room with her, let alone touch her. She understands that. I don’t think she’d welcome it much if I tried. It’s hard for both of us.”
Hermione faltered, struck by the intensity in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Harry,” she finally said, letting out a breath. “I’m doing it again, aren’t I?”
“Yes,” Harry grimaced. “But I’m trying to remember that you mean well.”
“I do,” she said softly. “I just-“
“-want me to be happy, I know,” he finished for her. “But it’s not that simple, Hermione.”
“It can be,” she said, giving one last ditch effort. “It’s okay to be selfish once in awhile.”
“Not for me,” he murmured. “And not when it involves her life. I’ll be selfish afterwards. I promise.”
Hermione sighed and attempted a smile. “I’m going to hold you to that,” she said.
He smiled back and whirled her around the dance floor trying to ignore the monster in his chest that wanted him to listen to his friend.
Chapter 4: Chapter 4
Later that night, Harry awoke suddenly when unseen hands slipped his glasses on his face and pressed a hand over his mouth. He grunted but stilled immediately when he realised it was Ginny leaning over him. She held a finger to her lips and backed away, removing her hand. He sat up and watched as she tiptoed over to his trunk and lifted the lid soundlessly, emerging with a silvery bundle Harry recognised as his invisibility cloak.Curious, he threw back the covers and stood up, conscious that any squeak on the floorboards might wake up Ron. He found his shoes and grabbed his wand from the nearby nightstand. He held it up to her questioningly and she nodded, reaching into the strappy tank top she was wearing and partially pulling her own wand out from between her breasts. He grinned at her and she flushed, shoving the wand back into the top, which, now that his eyes had adjusted to the darkness, Harry could see left little to the imagination. His eyes skimmed her form appreciatively, blatantly approving of the baggy pyjama bottoms that hung low on her hips and the form-fitting top that exposed her midriff.
She rolled her eyes and moved past him towards the door, opening it silently and motioning for him to follow her.
Harry copied her movements exactly, knowing that only Ginny would be able to lead him down the creaky steps without waking anyone. They reached the kitchen without incident and Ginny led him towards the back door. She paused before she reached it and he came up close behind her leaning down as she reached her head up and back to whisper in his ear.
“Stay close behind me,” she said softly. He nodded and moved even closer to her as she whirled the invisibility cloak over them. Harry felt the material settle over them, and knowing that no one could see them, let down his rigid defences for one sweet moment to slip his right arm around her waist and pull her flush against his body. She felt soft against him, and the monster in his chest sighed in relief as Ginny pressed her body to his for the first time in what felt like forever.
He wrapped his other arm around her and hugged her to him. She felt the same and yet different. Her stomach had new muscles, and as she lifted her arms to wrap around his neck behind her, he noticed they were sculpted in a way they had not been before. His heart panged when he realised she was turning herself into some sort of…weapon.
He buried his face in her neck and just…inhaled her. He breathed in the scent of her and allowed the perfume to seep into his lungs hoping it would stay there so he could smell her every time he exhaled. He allowed the warmth of her to settle itself in his bones, and his heart, so that it would keep him company on the cold nights ahead. It might be the last time he would get to touch her.
His hands began roaming her curves, trying to memorise the feel of her. They discovered new ridges and dips, and he felt her shudder when he slipped his hands underneath the waistband of her pyjamas to allow both hands to span her tiny hips.
Their movements were completely silent. They knew it wouldn’t bode well for either of them if they were discovered, and Harry still didn’t know why Ginny had dragged him out of bed. He doubted it was so they could make out, even though every cell in his body was begging for him to kiss her.
He wasn’t sure he could do it and still leave her. Touching her was one thing–allowing himself to taste her again was something entirely different.
Ginny’s hands moved through his hair, and she rubbed herself wantonly against him, awakening parts of his body that had been dormant since he’d walked away from her at Dumbledore’s funeral. His hands moved up over her ribs to brush the underside of her breasts. She arched against him and pressed her face into his neck. He noticed distractedly that her face was wet, and his heart stumbled when he realised she was crying silently as she allowed him to touch her.
Ginny felt like her body was more alive than it had been in a long time. It was as if every part of her had been sleeping, and only Harry could wake it up. She couldn’t stop the tears from coming as he filled his hands with her breasts. The weeks of silent pain and emptiness disappeared, and she knew instinctively that this one brief moment of weakness would be cherished above all other memories. For both of them.
Harry’s breathing increased rapidly, and she knew they should stop soon as they couldn’t remain silent forever. His hands stilled when they both heard a creak on the stairs, and Ginny slowly lifted her head to watch as Crookshanks padded down the stairs and over to the food bowl her mum kept out for him. She breathed a silent sigh of relief and Harry’s hands let go of her breasts to wrap around her waist again. He motioned with a look of regret on his face towards the door and moved with her as she opened it silently and stepped out into the night.
They stayed close, moving in unison across the moonlit yard. Harry had no idea where they were going but his body was still tingling from their activities in the kitchen and he moved as if in a daze. He kept a hand on her waist as she led him to the edge of the forest behind the Burrow and down a side path he had never seen before. They walked for what seemed like a long time until they came to a small clearing surrounded on all sides by brush and tangled vines. The smell of honeysuckle hung in the air and Ginny slid the invisibility cloak off them.
She withdrew her wand from between her breasts and Harry shivered, imagining how warm the wood would be from its resting place. She waved her wand--which Harry noticed now was not actually her wand but Hermione's--around in a series of complicated movements whispering underneath her breath. Harry recognised Silencing charms and Imperturbable charms. He lifted his own wand to add some extra security.
Finally done, Ginny slid Hermione's wand back in her cleavage and let her face drop into her hands. Harry stood, uncertain as to what he was supposed to do while she took a few deep shuddering breaths. She finally looked back up at him, her face composed but her eyes haunted.
“I’m sorry,” she said simply. “I didn’t expect that to happen.”
Harry’s head was shaking back and forth before she finished her sentence. “Don’t apologise,” he said vehemently. “You’ll ruin it.”
“I-,” his voice broke. “I miss you so much. I’m sorry, I just couldn’t help myself.”
“Oh, Harry,” Ginny whispered, “I know, believe me, I know.”
The desperation between them hung in the air but neither of them dared to move towards the other. Harry knew that once he started touching her he would not be able to stop and he sensed she understood this. She understood most things about him.
“I’m sorry how I things ended between us,” he finally said, struggling to keep his emotions in check. He couldn’t fall apart, not now. Every moment he spent with her was a test of his resolve but he had to say this to her. “You know that under normal circumstances, I would never have-“
“Harry,” she interrupted. “I know. How many times do I have to tell you that?”
He smiled at her, relaxing just a little. “I just want to make sure that you know that I still-“
“Stop!” she interrupted again. “Don’t say it like this, not now when we can’t finish it.”
They had never said those three words to each other, although they had been understood, and Ginny didn’t think she could handle hearing them now. She couldn’t remain strong if they echoed in her mind every time she closed her eyes.
Harry nodded. “But after,” he said hoarsely. “I’m going to say them every day.”
She nodded, her lips pressed together so tightly they were white. “I’ll wait for it,” she told him.
Harry understood that she really meant she would wait for him and he felt a giant relief sweep over him.
“Harry,” Ginny said urgently, “you’ve got to listen to me. You’re doing a really bad job at this.”
Harry was confused by the sudden change in the conversation. “A bad job at what?” he asked.
“At pretending you don’t have feelings for me,” she said impatiently. “I’ve seen the way you watch me and pretend not to notice me. You’re complete rubbish at it. If you want people to think we’re not together then you’ve got to try harder to be indifferent.”
“We’re not together,” Harry said sharply, “nor am I indifferent to you. Excuse me if my mind and body are a bit confused.” Was she really scolding him for not ignoring her enough?
“I know,” she said, waving a hand in dismissal. “But Harry, anyone who is watching you can see how you feel. It’s written all over your face. If there were spies at the wedding, they would have noticed you ‘not’ looking at me all evening.”
“Well, I couldn’t help it,” he muttered, scuffing his shoe on the ground. “I’ve never seen you look so damn beautiful.”
Ginny’s face softened. “Thanks,” she said quietly. “But you’ve got to remember to control yourself and your emotions. I know you need me to be safe, I get it, but Voldemort is constantly searching for your weakness.”
She drew herself up. “I don’t want to be that weakness,” she said evenly. “I will not be the reason he gets you.”
Harry noticed she had that familiar hard, blazing look on her face. She was serious.
“Well I don’t know what else to do,” he exploded in frustration. “I’m doing the best I can!”
“It’s not good enough,” she replied sharply. “You’ve got to try harder. How are your Occlumency lessons going?”
“Bloody awful,” he told her. “I’m not learning a damn thing. I don’t think it would help anyway.”
She shook her head. “It’s not the Occlumency that will help; it’s the process of learning to organise your mind. If your mind is organised, you can shove your feelings for me aside until it’s safe to pull them out.”
Harry stared at her. “How do you know this? And why are you so anxious for me to shove aside my feelings for you? Don’t you want them?” he asked heatedly.
Ginny stiffened. “I want them with everything that is inside me, and you know it,” she said in a hard voice. “But you were the one who said we had to be apart, and I’m trying to help you. You were the one who said you had to protect me.”
“You don’t agree?” he asked sharply. “You wouldn’t have done the exact same thing?”
“It’s not a matter of whether or not I agree,” she told him. “It’s a matter of what YOU need to finish this so we can both have what we want. I’m just trying to help you any way I know how.”
A realisation was creeping into Harry’s brain, and he grasped onto the tendril of thought before it could escape. “That’s why you’re practicing and training so much,” he gasped. “You’re trying to help me?”
Ginny flushed and nodded. “I thought that if I could keep myself safe then you wouldn’t worry so much.”
“It’s a good plan,” he said slowly. “But you know I’m not going to let you come with me.”
“I’m not asking you to,” she said. “There are other reasons to protect myself, some of which have nothing to do with you. I’ve got my own demons to face.”
“Harry-“ she stopped and looked at him. “He’s going to come after me, sooner or later,” she said softly. “I can feel it.”
Harry’s heart actually stopped for an instant. “No,” he said shakily. “No, he’s not. He might not even know about you–that we were together.”
“Yes, he does,” she said carefully, her eyes fastened on his. “Even if he didn’t care that I was once your girlfriend, Lucius Malfoy would have told him about the diary by now, and he’s not going to let it go without trying to finish what he started.” She knew it was the truth deep inside her. Sometimes she could almost feel Tom Riddle’s eyes on her. Harry needed to understand that his wasn’t the only fight with Voldemort.
She walked closer to him and held his gaze. “I’m not going to let him get me but if I fail and if he does, Harry, you have to promise me something.”
Harry was held captive by the look in her eyes. A thousand protests sprang into his mind, suggestions raced through his brain–she could go into hiding, she could leave the country–but he could voice none of them because of the look on her face. It was almost peaceful as if she had come to a hard decision and was relieved to have made it.
“What?” he managed to ask.
“If he gets me,” she repeated. “And you come after me, you have to promise that if you have that one chance to end him, that you’ll do it-“ she paused, “even if it means I won’t make it.”
Harry’s mouth was forming the word “no” before she finished her sentence. “Yes!” she said loudly, louder than she intended. “If you have a choice between saving me and killing him, you have to kill him. He has to die, it’s the only way.”
“No, no, no, no, no,” Harry said in a low voice, a chorus of “no’s” echoing in his head. “I won’t let that happen, it won’t, you’ll be safe, I’ll promise that.”
“You can’t promise that!” she thundered at him, snapping him out of the frantic chanting in his head. “You won’t be here to protect me!”
“Then I’ll stay,” he said instantly. “I won’t leave you. Ron and Hermione can go without me.”
“Dumbledore left it to you,” she said in a hard voice. “He trusted you. And you’re the only one who can beat Tom. It has to be you.”
Harry pinched the bridge of his nose as a sudden ache seared through his head. “This is exactly the sort of situation I was trying to avoid. There is no possible way I can make such a choice. That is why you have to stay safe. You have to hide.” He did not question how she knew Voldemort would be coming after her. He trusted her intuition implicitly. If Ginny said Tom Riddle was going to come after her simply because she escaped him in the Chamber of Secrets then he believed her.
“There is nowhere I can hide from him, and you know it. But if he wants me, he’ll have to fight for me.” She stepped even closer to him, still not touching him but he could feel the heat coming off of her. “There will be others who will protect me,” she said softly. “You have to trust my family and you have to trust me.”
Harry began pacing back and forth in the clearing, a million scenarios running through his head. He had this sinking feeling that she was right–there was nothing he could do. He had a job to do and as he had tried to explain to Ron and Hermione over and over again–nothing could get in the way of it. Voldemort had to be destroyed. It was that or nothing would be left to defend. And he had another sinking feeling that he was only going to get one shot at him after he destroyed the Horcruxes.
He looked at Ginny, standing tall, watching him with wide brown eyes and a determined look on her face. Was it necessary they would have to sacrifice what they had together in order to destroy Voldemort? He was suddenly reminded of his father–who chose to stay behind and face Voldemort alone so that his wife and son might have a chance at life. And of his mother–who had to make the awful choice to leave her husband in order to protect their son. He hadn’t known his mother but he was pretty sure she hadn’t wanted to leave the love of her life alone to face certain death.
Ginny watched the acceptance slowly rise in Harry’s eyes. It was the only way–she had accepted it weeks ago. If Harry had to make a choice between her and Voldemort, he would have to go for the kill. It would be an impossible decision to make, and it was important they avoid it if they could–which was exactly why she couldn’t accompany him on his journey and why they couldn’t be together. But if Tom came, and she was almost certain he would seek her out, he would make Harry choose. It was Tom’s way to watch people suffer. He revelled in it.
“If I don’t choose to kill him,” Harry said slowly, “if I choose you…they’ll say our love destroyed a nation.”
It was a line from a Muggle movie they’d watched two years ago at the Burrow. A part of her was pleased he’d remembered that particular part because it meant he truly understood the situation. The other part of her felt like dying because it was the saddest part of the movie–when the two lovers realised they couldn’t be together because it was too selfish of them.
She couldn’t help herself and she smiled at him through her tears. “Yes, Harry,” she whispered. “I think that is exactly what they would say.”
“That’s why I need to be more indifferent then,” he said quietly. “That’s why you’re telling me to ignore you even more than I already am. That’s why we have to be apart.” He rubbed his eyes. “I’ve known it; in fact I’ve tried to explain it a million times to Ron and Hermione…but it never really sunk in. I was too numb to face it this much–to discuss it like this.”
He looked at her and felt his heart breaking. “I want to be with you so much,” he said fiercely. “I want to touch you so badly but I can’t–because it hurts too much when I would have to stop.”
Ginny nodded in agreement, her long hair bouncing in its ponytail. “I feel the same,” she whispered. “But Harry, I believe in you; I believe you can do this. He can keep us apart for now but not forever. He can’t stop me from having these feelings–all he can do is stop us from acting on them.”
“Is it going to be worth it?” Harry asked, his voice hoarse.
“Yes,” she said. “After you get rid of that tosser, we’re going to have the rest of our lives together. We’ll be as selfish as we want to be.”
“Okay,” Harry said, taking a deep breath. His hands itched to reach for her but he fought the impulse and instead moved onto practical matters. “We’re leaving in two days,” he told her.
She nodded and wiped her eyes. “I know.”
He swallowed. “I won’t be able to contact you at all. It’ll have to be Ron or Hermione. And I need you or your mum to keep Hedwig for me. She’s too conspicuous.”
“I have to have a way to get information to you,” she said stoically. “I’ll be at Hogwarts, and there might be things you need to know. Plus my whole family is in the Order.”
Harry was relieved she would be going back to Hogwarts, even though it wasn’t the safest place anymore. “Okay,” he agreed. “Work it out with Hermione.”
He looked at her, not wanting this to be the last time he saw her, that they spoke this freely. “We should say goodbye now, so we don't have to do it publicly when I leave," he said. He was suddenly exhausted.
She nodded again and faced him squarely. “Be careful and be safe. Don’t do anything stupid or rash. Listen to Hermione but not too much–she can’t always make the best decisions because she doesn’t think as quickly on her feet as you or Ron do.”
She handed him a small book she’d hidden in the pocket of her pants. “Here,” she said. “It’s about Occlumency. I nicked it from Grimmauld Place. It really helped me.” Tears threatened to spill again. Only in front of him could she let this emotion show, and she’d been hiding it for so long that it was almost a relief to be weak.
“I want to tell you not to go anywhere or do anything,” he said, taking the book from her and shoving it the waistband of his pants, “but I know you’ll probably hex me for it, so I’m just going to say that you’d better keep yourself as safe as possible.”
He stepped closer and leaned down to speak directly into her ear. “And remember how I feel about you. Whatever you hear, whatever happens to me, remember that it’s only been you, my whole life, there’s never been anyone I-”
“Mine too,” she whispered into his shoulder. They still weren’t touching and the electricity between them was sparking. “It’s always been you-“
He brushed her cheek with his hand so lightly it almost wasn’t a caress. “Don’t forget how much I adore you,” he said, repressing the urge to crush her in his arms.
“Promise to remember how it feels to be together,” she said, turning her face slightly to look him in the eyes. “Promise me that when you’re discouraged, you’ll remember how it feels to be with me and you’ll let it make you feel better.”
“I will,” he said, stepping back. It was the hardest step he ever had to take. “I already do.”
She watched him with fire in her eyes. “We should go back separately. I don’t think I could take another walk under that cloak together.”
He shook his head. “I’ll Apparate us to the back porch.” He slung the invisibility cloak over his shoulder and reached out a hand for her. She took it and laced their fingers together holding onto him so tightly Harry was sure she was leaving fingernails marks. He turned on his heel and with a soft pop, they appeared at the back door to the Burrow.
Chapter 5: Chapter 5
Harry threw his backpack to the ground in front of the tent they’d pitched deep in the Forbidden Forest behind Hogwarts. They’d been tracking Horcruxes for five months and had already destroyed two. They had a lead on the locket after Ron remembered seeing something just like it at Grimmauld Place. So they were in Scotland to track down Mundungus Fletcher who had been known to hang out at the Hogs Head in Hogsmeade. Ron had pushed for going on to spend the night in Hogwarts but Harry hadn’t wanted the Order to know about their plans any more than they had to.Plus Hogwarts was where Ginny was, and Harry didn’t want to tempt himself anymore than he already was. It would be so easy to sneak into Hogwarts using the invisibility cloak…
He’d promised Ron and Hermione they could have the tent to themselves tonight so he settled his head on the backpack and threw a blanket over himself, letting his feet peek out at the end and keeping a firm grip on his wand inside his jacket. He sighed, trying to find the stars between the trees, wondering if this road he was on would end soon. He suddenly felt bone-weary and tired, as if he’d been fighting Voldemort his whole life. He was damned sick of the bastard and his interference in his life.
Not for the first time, Harry wondered why he’d been chosen for this fight. He never had an answer for himself but he remembered what Ginny had said when he asked her the same question a lifetime ago.
“Because you can do it,” she’d said simply. “Not everyone could but you can.”
Her faith in him was unshakeable, and the memory of it warmed him, just as she promised it would. His eyes closed in weariness. And he slept.
When he opened them, he was lying in a grassy field behind the Burrow. He was wearing the clothes he’d gone to sleep in but it was daytime, and the morning sun was shining down on him. He turned his head to find Ginny sitting next to him, watching him with a small smile on her face, a slight breeze blowing her red hair off her shoulders.
“Hey,” he said softly, drinking in the sight of her. Her hair was longer and her face more haunted than when he’d last seen her. But she smelled the same and her eyes were bright as she looked back at him.
“Hey yourself,” she said.
“How are you?”
She pulled her knees up and hugged them to her chest, smoothing the yellow sundress modestly over her shapely legs. “I’m fine, I guess. I miss you though.”
“I miss you too, especially at night,” he told her, reaching out a hand to grasp her bare ankle. He closed his fingers around her warm skin and electricity arched through him.
“Why especially at night?” she asked.
He shrugged. “I guess that’s when my brain stops working enough to wander. I miss you during the day too though–especially when Ron and Hermione are fighting.”
She smiled at him understanding. “Are they fighting a lot?” she asked sympathetically.
“I think the strain is getting to them,” he explained. “They’re going to the Burrow for Christmas though–maybe it will help.”
Her eyes clouded. “You’re not going to be there.” It was a statement, not a question.
He shook his head. “I’m going to spend the day with Remus. It’s probably for the best, yeah?”
“Yeah,” she echoed. “For the best.” She reached out her own hand and ran her fingers lightly up and down his arm, her fingernails combing the unruly hair into a pattern.
“I’ll think of you every minute,” he said, shaking her ankle a little.
“I know,” she said, her eyes suddenly fierce. “I can feel it, you know. I can feel it when you think of me.”
Harry didn’t know what to say to that and so they were silent for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes. Finally: “I found the galleons you hid in my trunk. Thanks.”
“It wasn’t enough,” he shrugged again, “but I wanted to make sure you had enough for something fun at Hogsmeade weekends.”
“They’ve cancelled all Hogsmeade weekends,” she informed him.
“Oh,” he said. “Sorry. Spend the money on something else then.”
She nodded. “I am.”
“On what?”
Ginny smiled at him and the beauty of it took his breath away. “I’m planning for afterwards. I’m making arrangements for us to be extremely selfish.”
Harry was curious. “What sort of arrangements?”
“It’s a surprise,” she said, shaking her head at him. “Tell me, Harry, if you could go anywhere, like on a vacation, where would it be?”
Harry let his head drop back on the backpack and watched the clouds move across the perfect blue sky his imagination had created for them. Where would he go? What hadn’t he ever seen?
“The ocean,” he decided. “Somewhere along the coast. I’ve never spent any time there–never even seen it until last month when we had to go to France.”
He turned his head back towards Ginny. “It was so peaceful, Gin. I could spend a thousand moments there with you.”
“Okay,” she said softly. “I’ll remember that.”
He gripped her ankle tighter. “Do you remember what I told you? What we said before I left?”
“Yes,” she acknowledged, the longing on her face clear. “It keeps me strong when I’m not sure I can be.”
“What’s happening that you have to be so strong for?” He was desperate for information about her. The fact that they were talking like this in some sort of dream he was having didn’t even register right now. He would worry about it later.
“McGonagall’s been giving me private lessons,” she told him. “They’re extremely tough, and she pushes me really hard but they’re amazing, I’m learning loads.”
“Why would she do that?” Harry was surprised.
Ginny looked like she was fighting back a smile. “She’s so funny, Harry, and so obvious. She acts like she’s so affronted that you three didn’t return and that you won’t tell her what you’re doing but I think she’s actually so proud of you guys that she can’t stand herself. The first day of term she called me to her office and asked if I wanted to take lessons with her.”
She shrugged a shoulder at him. “She said it was her part of the war effort–to teach me to protect myself. I think she’s doing it for you more than for me.”
Harry was silent as he absorbed this information. How did McGonagall know so much about him? That he needed Ginny to be safe?
“How did she figure it out?” he asked shortly.
Ginny looked at him exasperatedly. “I told you, Harry–you were so obvious during the summer at the Burrow.”
Harry chuckled a little bit but he wasn’t sure why. It really wasn’t that funny.
“How’s that going anyway?” she asked him. “Did you read the book I gave you?”
Harry nodded. “It helped a lot. I think even Ron and Hermione are fooled into thinking I don't miss you at this point.”
“Good.” She was silent for a moment. Then: “And the job for Dumbledore? Everything going okay there?” She wouldn’t press him for details, he knew, but he could speak about their progress in general.
“We’ve had some success and a few tight spots,” he told her. “It’s really tough but we’re getting closer.”
Ginny took a deep breath and looked at her surroundings for the first time. “Where are we anyway, Potter? Where have you brought me?” She looked back at him, her brow furrowed. “And how did I get here?”
“We’re home,” he said simply. “I don’t know how this is happening but something knew I needed to see you, I guess.” He slid his hand up her calf to finger the hem of her dress. “And that dress looks lovely on you.”
“Thanks,” she said softly. “Did you need me this much, Harry?”
“I’m tired, Gin,” he said in reply. “I was thinking about it just before I went to sleep. I’m so tired of running and searching; sometimes it feels like it’s never going to end. Ron and Hermione expect me to be strong all the time, and I guess that’s only fair–it’s all I let them see of me anymore.”
She reached down and grasped the hand that was on her leg. “So you needed to be reminded of why you’re doing this?”
He looked at their entwined hands and smiled. “Yeah, that would help a lot.”
She stared at him for a long moment and then shifted, moving up on her knees so she was looming over him. She swung one leg over his waist and lowered herself until she was on top of his body, supporting herself on her knees on either side of his waist and her elbows on either side of his head. She brought her face close to his and rubbed her nose alongside his.
Harry clenched his fists to keep himself from holding her to him, certain that the ache for her would be too intense when he woke up if he let himself weaken now. He knew that if he shifted his eyes, he’d be able to see straight down the top of her loose sundress but he kept his eyes on her face, trying to remember every freckle.
“What we have-” she finally said, as she slid her hands into his hair. “What we have together is worth fighting for. Even if your parents hadn’t been killed, even if you hadn’t spent your whole life living with those awful Muggles, even if I’d never written in that silly diary, even if Voldemort hadn’t tricked you and Bellatrix hadn’t killed Sirius and Snape hadn’t killed Dumbledore, even if Bill hadn’t been attacked by Greyback and Nagini hadn’t bitten my father and Ron hadn’t been poisoned last year. Even if none of those things had ever happened, even if you never know all the names of the people Voldemort has killed or the families he has torn apart, the fact that he has taken this-” she pressed closer to him, “away from us means he’s worth going after.”
She slid her hand down and pressed it over his heart. “This is mine,” she said softly, her brown eyes on his. “And he can’t have it.”
Harry nodded, afraid that speaking would break the spell. “Thanks,” he finally managed.
She smiled brightly at him once again and Harry thought he saw tears in her eyes. Just as he was about to reach up a hand to brush them away, he awoke with a sudden gasp and found himself back in the Forbidden Forest, Ron’s snores echoing from the nearby tent.
He let the hand fall back to his side and let his other hand settle over his heart where he could still feel the warmth from her small hand. His eyes slid shut again but this time he fell asleep with a smile on his face
Chapter 6: Chapter 6
Christmas passed and with it the excitement of a New Year. February bled into March, and still they searched, methodically eliminating possibilities and if they were lucky, an actual Horcrux. Their search took them to places Harry had never seen before but he was too busy to enjoy them. He felt himself turning hard, felt his face settle into a permanent stony countenance and his words grew harsh without him meaning them to be. He knew that his friends were worried about the impervious barrier he’d put around himself. They knew him too well to be fooled by his well-practiced smiles and his rehearsed laughter.Ginny’s birthday passed, and Harry spent a lonely night underneath the stars, allowing himself one moment of regret as he missed her coming of age. Part of him wondered if she would seek them out now that she was old enough and a traitorous part of him wished for it. He immediately shut that thought away in the box inside his mind, just as Ginny had suggested he do so long ago. He didn’t have any more dreams with her and assumed his subconscious had satisfied itself with the one it had allowed him. Truthfully it was easier if he didn’t see her. The monster inside of his chest that roared so spectacularly when she was near was practically dead, hibernating away in his own special box.
Just before his 18th birthday, Harry, Ron and Hermione were in Diagon Alley, covered in cloaks so they wouldn’t be recognised. They were making their way to Knockturn Alley to track down the final Horcrux, save Nagini, when the air suddenly went cold and the sky turned dark.
“Dementors!” the cry went out. “Dementors in Diagon Alley!”
Harry cursed and herded them all into a nearby alley. Hermione shoved the hood of her cloak off and faced him, eyes blazing. “We have to help, Harry! We have to fight. There are innocent people out there!”
Harry’s jaw worked furiously. They couldn’t afford to be seen. If Death Eaters were there they would try and capture him or kill them all. If they were seen by the Order or the Ministry, questions would be asked that could not be answered. He glanced at Ron who was watching him with a frown on his face. Harry knew the old Harry, the one that had existed before they began this quest, would not have hesitated to help. But the new Harry had to think about the greater good.
“Harry-” Ron began in a fierce voice.
“Fine,” Harry snapped. “But stick together and don’t let anyone see you.” His friends breathed a sigh of relief and they moved together, a well-oiled unit, out of the alley. Death Eaters had arrived and they were already firing spells into the crowds. Harry’s stomach twisted at the slaughter of defenceless people and suddenly he was really glad he’d decided they would fight. He was itching to let out some of his anger.
He fought with a vengeance, as did Ron and Hermione. The tension of the past months slipped away with each Death Eater that was stunned, bound and left for the Aurors who were arriving on the scene in waves. The three of them kept their faces covered as much as they could. Harry thought he saw tall redheads fighting vigorously down the Alley and as he dodged a poorly aimed spell, it occurred to him that Ginny might be there. It was July and school was out, she easily could have accompanied her family to Diagon Alley.
Almost as if the moment was timed, the crowds parted and he saw her, just a few feet away. She was fighting Death Eaters with a grace that could not be taught, and time slowed as he watched her dodging and leaping over spells. She had a wand in each hand and was firing spells and hexes out of both. She moved silently, almost as if she was dancing, her red hair flying around her with an unseen breeze. She was taller, he noted, and her curves were more pronounced but it was all overshadowed by the look of fierce concentration on her face as she battled.
McGonagall really was an excellent teacher.
He was startled by a sudden scream to his left and looked up with horror to see three Dementors descending on the area where Ginny was fighting. Her back was to them and she couldn’t see them, locked as she was in a fierce struggle with a Death Eater. She finally lashed out with her leg, kicking the Death Eater in the chest and stunning him before he hit the ground. Ropes shot out of the wand in her right hand and wrapped around her opponent. It was all happening too fast but Harry took a moment to realise that Ginny wouldn’t turn around in time to defend herself from the Dementors. One of them in particular seemed to be headed straight towards her.
Harry lowered his shield and quickly stunned the two Death Eaters he’d been toying with. He turned from the fight and moved through the battle towards Ginny. He didn’t dare call out her name less any of the Death Eaters, who didn’t know who she was, realise what a prize she would make for their Dark Lord. He also didn’t want to draw unwanted attention to himself. Instead, he lifted his wand and shouted “Expecto Patronum!” the memory of the dream they’d shared in December bursting to the forefront of his brain as he cast the spell.
Ginny turned just in time to see a glowing white stag plow into the Dementor that had been creeping up behind her. The stag’s antlers tossed the Dementor away and Ginny watched, mouth open and chest heaving, as the stag bowed its head to her before trotting back to a hooded figure a few feet away. The figure reached out a hand and patted the stag on the head before the Patronus vanished. Ginny’s heart leapt in her throat, and time stood still as the figure pushed back the hood of his cloak. He pushed it back just a little but it was enough for Ginny to see familiar green eyes and a shock of messy black hair. Relief flooded into every cell in her body. He was alive. It was enough for right now.
Harry smiled sardonically at Ginny, and she nodded her head sharply at him, her eyes wide with something he knew she should be suppressing, especially now with their enemies so close. He frowned at her and she immediately schooled her features into a careful mask of disinterest. She allowed her eyes to sweep the length of him, and he took a moment to get an eyeful of her before he smoothed the hood back over his head.
Ginny heard a shout to her right and turned her head to see her mother and her brother Bill making their way towards her. The battle was winding down; she knew Harry would not want to be seen here, by either side. She swung back around to face him and mouthed to him: “Run!”
Harry hesitated, not wanting to leave her while Death Eaters were still standing but she motioned at him urgently.
“I’ll be okay,” she mouthed at him. “Go!”
He nodded. Before he turned back to Ron and Hermione however, he let his right hand press for just an instant over his heart. It was a gesture so casual that anyone watching would think it was just a slight of hand, but he knew she would get the message.
Her eyes flared and she took a precious chance to say out loud, “I know.”
Her voice was low but Harry heard it. His eyes locked on hers, he grabbed Ron and Hermione who were still fighting, and Apparated away.
Chapter 7: Chapter 7
Ginny stood on the outer ledge of the Astronomy Tower at Hogwarts, her wand tapping impatiently against a black leather-clad thigh. A fierce wind was whipping her long red hair around her face but she hardly noticed the stinging cold in her cheeks. It was September 1st and what was normally a happy day for Hogwarts was overshadowed by tension and preparations for battle.Ginny imagined that she could almost hear the castle sighing in the absence of its students. McGonagall had been forced to close the school when Harry, Ron and Hermione had shown up at the Burrow two weeks ago with the news they had discovered plans that Voldemort intended to attack Hogwarts at the beginning of the school year.
In a meeting Professor McGonagall had insisted Ginny be allowed to attend, Harry had informed a few select members of the Order of the Phoenix that Voldemort was mortal again and could be killed. He hadn’t explained how the three of them had accomplished this task but the implications of his announcement had hung over the group. Ginny had felt something like hope creep into her mind but she ruthlessly stamped out the notion. There was no time for anything other than remembering her defence training.
She and Harry were better at being around each other than last time they’d been forced to occupy the same space. It’d been over a year, and both of them had become so practiced in ignoring their feelings for each other, they did it without thinking about it anymore. It was so effortless Ginny was sure they’d fooled even their closest friends and family.
Harry’s eyes glossed over her now without lingering, and Ginny’s breathing was even and controlled when his body came within inches of hers. They communicated indirectly now, instead of with their facial expressions. Ron and Hermione had no idea they were being used to pass messages. Ginny had told Hermione she was reasonably sure the recently expanded Order had a few spies in it, knowing her friend would pass the information along to Harry. They were being watched every second and could not afford to let their guard slip now.
Ron had told her that she and Hermione were to stick together when they went about the castle, and she suspected this was Harry’s way of telling her that he wasn’t going to try and get her alone.
Voldemort was coming–she could feel it. In a few hours, the ground of Hogwarts would be alive with battle, and Ginny would be in the thick of it. She was determined to watch Harry’s back so that he survived long enough to get to Voldemort.
She heard a footfall behind her and spun around to find Professor McGonagall standing motionless, her eyes fixed on the wand Ginny had pointed at her nose.
“Sorry, Professor,” she said, lowering her wand.
Her professor smiled at her. “It’s all right, Ginny. I’d have done the same thing.” She stepped up on the ledge to stand next to Ginny and surveyed the grounds. She sighed.
Ginny didn’t have to ask what was troubling her teacher, and they stood together, silent in their own reflections. Finally, her professor spoke.
“Ginny,” she began quietly. “I think you should speak with Harry.”
Ginny stiffened. Speaking with Harry was the LAST thing she wanted to do. Professor McGonagall put a hand on her arm and said urgently, “You can’t fool me, even if you’ve fooled everyone else.” She turned back towards the lake, her eyes searching for something but Ginny couldn’t tell what it was.
“Trust me on this, dear, you don’t want your first and last words to be said to each other on the battlefield, right before something horrible happens.”
She squeezed Ginny’s arm and stepped back off the ledge. With a final smile at her protégé, the Professor left the room, leaving Ginny alone with her thoughts. How long, Ginny wondered, did one continue the charade of indifference she and Harry had concocted? Voldemort was coming now; the end was in sight. Harry would either kill him or not.
It was kill or be killed. So, it their last chance to love or be loved. Ginny turned towards the door, a sudden urgency in her heart–she would chose love; and she would not hide behind their reasons any longer. It was time to be selfish.
******
Harry methodically fastened up the dragon hide jacket the Order had provided for those who would be fighting. The hide would protect him from minor spells and hexes.
The plan was simple: meet the Death Eaters head on and retreat to the castle if necessary. Madame Pomfrey was standing by in the hospital wing ready to receive wounded, and all the passages into the castle had been blocked.
He stood up and surveyed the Great Hall. It was full of members of the Order, Ministry Aurors and members of the DA that Ginny had reformed during the last school year. There were too few of them, he knew, but there was little he could do about it at this point. What was coming would come and he was going to do everything he could to make sure it ended here.
Ron walked up to him, a serious expression on his face and slapped him on the shoulder. “I’ve got your back, mate,” he said.
“No,” Harry said sharply. “You and Hermione, you’ve got to take care of each other.”
Ron was already shaking his head. “Hermione and I will both watch your back, mate; someone has got to make sure you make it to that bastard so you can finish this.”
“Actually, I’m going to do that,” a clear voice said from them.
Harry turned to see Ginny behind them, hands on her hips. Black dragon-hide leather stretched over her torso, arms and legs and her long red hair was tied back in a tightly wound bun. She looked like a warrior princess.
She stepped towards them with an almost sinuous grace, the leather moving with her like a second skin. Harry noticed two wands poking out of holsters on her upper thigh and forearm and remembered the way she had wielded them as extensions of both arms in Diagon Alley.
Ginny faced her brother. “It’s for me,” she told him firmly. “You and Hermione have to protect each other. You’re a team. I’ll watch Harry’s back.”
Ron opened his mouth to protest but Hermione, who had come up behind him, placed a hand on his shoulder, silencing him. Harry’s eyes met Ginny’s, a clear question being asked in them.
Ginny lifted a trembling hand to cup Harry’s cheek. “It’s time I think, to stop pretending,” she whispered, her eyes boring into his. “Whatever happens out there, you’re going to need me to get through it.”
Harry felt a crack appear in the shell he’d placed around his heart. It appeared the moment she touched him and it spread like a spider web, breaking open parts of him that he’d kept locked up. He understood in one bright moment what Dumbledore had been trying to tell him. His power was love. The power to love and be loved in return. The love he and Ginny shared–that was the power that Voldemort would never understand. How could he lose when the power of Ginny’s love would be protecting him?
“I’m not going to be your weakness,” she said in a low voice. “I’m going to be your strength.” She stepped closer to him and lifted another hand, gripping his face in her small hands. “But you have to remember your promise to make the right choice,” she whispered.
He nodded. “I will,” he said, his eyes searching hers. “But you have to promise to remember how much I utterly adore you.” The words released something inside of him, and he wanted to whisper them over and over again to her as they lay together in a more peaceful setting. He wanted to say the three words he’d longed to tell her for over a year but he remembered when she’d said they shouldn’t say those things until they could finish them.
Ginny smiled at him and stepped back. “I’ve never forgotten.”
Ron and Hermione stood by, their mouths open in shock. Harry almost laughed at the expressions on their face. He should probably say something; explain to them how it was that he and Ginny were suddenly so close after months of pretending they didn’t care. His friends didn’t know that it had all been planned. Instead, he decided to act as if nothing was unusual. “Don’t look so surprised,” he said, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. “She’s an excellent fighter you know. We’ll be fine together.”
The castle shook and McGonagall’s voice was heard throughout the Hall. “The wards are coming down,” she said. “They are here.”
Chapter 8: Chapter 8
Harry and Ginny stood, panting together amidst the battle surrounding them. Everywhere they turned, their friends and family members were fighting Death Eaters–the air was thick with dust, spells and screams. Harry caught sight of Remus Lupin trading spells with Peter Pettigrew. Ron and Hermione were battling Snape, Draco Malfoy lay prone on the ground beside them. The blond-haired boy’s eyes were vacant, his wand snapped in half underneath him.Ginny turned to find Lucius Malfoy moving towards them and something reared its head inside of her. This was the man who had stuck an innocent looking diary into her cauldron when she was only 11 years old. His malice-filled eyes were locked on Harry; no doubt he was hoping to bring him as some sort of prize to Voldemort. But as Ginny stepped in front of Harry, Malfoy’s eyes focused on her and his mouth twisted into a grin.
Ginny noticed a tall, snakelike figure behind Malfoy and realised with a horror she’d not been prepared for, just how much Tom Riddle had twisted his body into something that was no longer human.
“I’ve got Malfoy,” she said over her shoulder to Harry, her eyes locked on Malfoy’s progress towards them. “You’ve got to go for Tom. It’s time, Harry.”
Harry nodded and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it hard. “Come find me when you’re finished.” He said it with a positive tone in his voice–he would not allow himself to imagine that Ginny could not beat Malfoy.
She bent her head and brushed her cheek against the hand on her shoulder. “I will.” She felt a soft brush of his lips against the nape of her neck and then he was gone.
She fought for what seemed like hours. Malfoy was the most powerful Death Eater she’d ever faced. He taunted and teased her, and forced her to use every wily trick she learned from McGonagall and her older brothers. But she was younger and just a bit faster. Finally, she caught him with a Reducto curse on his wand arm, causing him to drop his wand. She was about to stun him when a better idea occurred to her and she swept her leg underneath his feet, forcing him to drop to his knees. She reared back her fist and punched him solidly in the nose.
Then she stunned him.
She turned, breathing heavily to find Harry locked in a fierce battle with Tom. Harry was moving so fast it was hard to judge how he was doing but she could see he was defending himself more than he was attacking.
As if he had known where she was the entire time and was waiting for such a moment as this, Voldemort suddenly whipped around and pointed his wand in her direction.
Harry watched in horror, his worse fears coming true as Ginny sailed through the air towards Voldemort who caught her and spun back around to face Harry, his wand pressed against Ginny’s neck.
“So,” he said, “the littlest Weasley at last. The one who found my diary I’m told. And managed to get herself rescued by the famous Harry Potter.”
Ginny struggled against the thin arms that held her tightly. “Give it up, Tom,” she hissed at him. “Harry’s going to kick your arse.”
“Not as long as I’ve got you,” he chuckled in her ear. “Harry!” he called out. “Look what I found!”
Harry held his wand trained on Voldemort. He was gasping for breath, his lungs and heart burning, but he couldn't tell if it was because he had never fought so hard before or if he was filled with fear for Ginny. “Let her go,” he shouted.
Voldemort held Ginny away from him, his wand still pressed against her neck. Her eyes were fastened on Harry and he knew she wasn’t scared for herself–only for him. She’d always put him first and Harry knew he would never be loved so deeply by anyone else.
Her eyes slid to the ground in front of her, directing Harry’s attention to her wand that had slipped out of her hand as Voldemort had plucked her out of the air. Harry grasped her meaning right before Voldemort shouted, “CRUCIO” and she fell to the ground writhing and screaming in pain.
Harry didn’t even bother to tell Voldemort to stop; he dove for the wand in front of Ginny and pushed it closer to her hand. She managed to clench it in her fist, despite the pain he could see was wracking her body. Voldemort chose that moment to turn the spell on him and he collapsed next to Ginny, intense pain blinding his vision until all he could see was the red blur of her hair.
Ginny cried out and threw herself over Harry’s body, protecting him from the spell. She lay twitching on top of him as the spell took its toll on her already damaged body. He forced himself to focus on her face and lifted a shaking hand to her face.
“I love you,” he managed in a hoarse voice. “Do you hear me, Ginny? I love you dammit. I love you, I love you, I love you.”
The curse stopped and he heard Voldemort laughing. “Ah, young love,” he said. “So tragic, Potter. Just like your parents, I believe. Pity you’ll both meet the same fate.”
“Who is she?” Voldemort hissed at him. “That she would die for you like this? Your one true love, Potter?”
Harry ignored him and kept his eyes locked on Ginny’s. “Finish it,” she gasped at him, her eyes rolling back in her head. “Do it, Harry.”
Harry looked at Voldemort–a snake of a man who didn’t and couldn’t understand why Ginny Weasley or Lily Potter had thrown themselves in front of Harry in order to protect him. It wasn’t because he was special or because he was the Chosen One and it never had been–it was because he was just plain Harry, and they loved him.
Harry wondered if Tom Riddle had ever had someone who loved him. He thought not. He looked back at Ginny who was nearly passed out on top of him because she had taken a curse for him. His heart swelled until he thought it would burst.
“I’ll tell you who she is,” he said, turning murderous eyes on Voldemort who was looming over them. “She’s mine. And you can’t take her away from me.”
Harry kept one hand on Ginny’s face and gripped his wand with the other. He lifted the wand just as Voldemort’s mouth began forming the words that would end Ginny’s life. Harry could have rolled over, could have taken the curse for her, as she would have done for him. But he remembered the promise he’d made to her and took his one chance.
Time stopped. A bright light from atop the hill distracted the fighters and the battle slowed, both sides turning to watch their champions. The remaining Death Eaters grinned when they saw their Dark Lord standing over a fallen Harry Potter. Molly Weasley clutched her heart when she realised that her only daughter was draped limply across the Boy-Who-Lived. Hermione Granger stood over her former Potions professor, breathing heavily as she watched her best friend’s eyes light up with something she could not name. Remus Lupin turned from watching the life ebb away from a Marauder-turned-traitor to see his best friend’s son raise his wand, determination written on his face as he clutched the woman he’d claimed he didn’t need to his chest.
In that one moment, driven by something more powerful than Voldemort could ever understand, Harry was faster than Voldemort. His arm shot up and he yelled “REDUCTO” as loud as he could. The powerful spell, fired by Harry’s desire to hurt anyone who would dare to hurt Ginny, hit Voldemort in the chest and blasted a hole in him the size of a Quaffle. His body was blown back with the force of the spell and landed on its back several feet away from Harry and Ginny.
Ginny lifted her head and used what little energy she had left to twist around and raise her wand to point it at what was left of Tom Riddle. “Incendio,” she shouted and Voldemort’s body erupted in flames, burning the former dark lord into ashes.
Harry slumped back to the ground, Ginny collapsed on top of him. She was trembling but he couldn’t muster the energy to wrap his arms around her. They lay there for several minutes until the pain subsided and eventually he became aware of Ginny whispering something into his chest. He strained to listen and realised with a jolt what she was saying.
“I love you, I love you, I love you,” she was chanting over and over again into his shirt.
He lifted shaking arms to her shoulders and used his returning strength to lift her up so he could look her in the face. She was crying, her tears dripping down her face and wetting the leather of his jacket.
“Ginny,” Harry said, shaking her a little. “I know. I love you too, remember? It’s over. He’s gone. We did it.”
Ginny stopped her chanting, his words sinking in. “Are…are you sure?” she asked, tremulously. “I’m not dreaming?”
“No love,” he said tenderly. “You’re not. He’s really gone. I can feel it.” He tapped the scar on his forehead.
“Then…then, we’re both alive?”
“Yes,” he said firmly. “I’m pretty sure anyway, especially if the way every bit of my body is aching is any indication.”
“Oh,” she gasped. She sat up, ignoring her own aches and pain and began running her hands all over his chest and arms. “Are you hurt? Are you okay?”
His hands captured hers. “I’m fine, it’s just the effects of the Cruciatus. It’ll get better in a little bit.”
Ginny sat, straddling his waist and stared at him in awe. “You did it, Harry. You really did it.” She gave a sob and leaned down, pressing frantic kisses all over his face. “I knew you could do it,” she said, between kisses. “I knew you could.”
“I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you,” he grunted. His arms came up and settled on her hips.
“Ginny, Ginny…wait…stop…I have to tell you something.”
“What Harry?” She stopped and sat back up, her eyes searching his.
Harry lay on the ground suddenly realizing that his whole life stretched before him. An immense burden had been lifted from his shoulders and his heart--he felt more free than...well...ever. Voldemort was gone and judging from the celebrations going on around him, the rest of the world knew it. But the only thing that mattered to him, was currently sitting on his stomach. He had to do something about that.
He grasped Ginny’s hands in his own. “I love you,” he said firmly.
Ginny smiled at him. “I know, Harry. I love you too.”
Harry closed his eyes for a moment letting the freedom of the words wash over him. He opened them back up and said, “I’m going to kiss you then and make it official.”
He rolled her onto her back and settled between her thighs. The position felt familiar and new at the same time. His rested his weight on her and lifted his hands to her face, smoothing the hair back from it. His hands were shaking, he noticed and he suspected they too didn’t quite believe this was real.
He bent his head to hers and Ginny whispered, “Finally,” just before he allowed his lips to touch hers for the first time in over a year.
Harry swore he could hear Phoenix song. Her lips were as soft as he remembered and they met his eagerly. Their mouths moved together as if they had never stopped kissing each other, as if Voldemort had never interfered and Harry was shocked to find tears from his own eyes wetting both of their faces. Her lips parted and he swept his tongue inside her mouth, groaning, as he tasted her for the first time all over again.
Ginny’s arms tightened around him and she wrapped her legs around his waist. Their tongues tangled together in a dance neither one of them had forgotten. Harry’s hands began roaming and he stroked her sides, remembering the curves he’d once traced with ease.
Harry wasn’t sure where this sudden energy was coming from–they’d both just been in a battle for their lives after all. But the pain had receded and all he could think about was the fact that his body, his mind and his heart felt more alive than they ever had. He needed to get closer to her so he could feel even more. The desire inside of him rose swiftly and he knew Ginny felt it too when she tore her mouth from his to tug at the fastenings of his leather jacket.
“Off, off,” she chanted. “Need to touch you.”
Harry lifted himself off her body and pulled at the jacket. “I love you,” he panted. “More than anything.”
“It’s over, Harry,” she said wonderingly, her brown eyes wide in her glowing face. “It’s really over and we-“ her hands reached for his, stilling them. “We can be together.”
“I know,” he choked, the tears threatening to spill again. “I’m never going to leave you again, I promise.”
He left the jacket on and leaned down to kiss her again, slanting his mouth over hers. They kissed fiercely and more passionately then he had ever thought they could. Her hands moved between them and finished unbuckling the jacket, shoving it down his shoulders. He helped her get it past his wrists and he threw it to the ground, his hands immediately moving to unfasten the buckles on her own jacket. He impatiently shoved the leather aside, moaning in satisfaction as he cupped her breasts through her thin t-shirt, his palms chafing her tight nipples. He broke the kiss to trail wet kisses down her throat.
“Need you,” Harry panted between kisses. “Need you so much.”
“Yes,” Ginny gasped, arching against him. “Please, hurry.” She frantically pulled his t-shirt out of his leather trousers and slid her hands up his back, tracing the new muscles he’d developed since they broke up.
“Actually,” a new voice broke crisply through the desire-charged haze in Harry’s brain, “we’d really rather you didn’t.”
Harry and Ginny both froze. Harry’s hand was halfway up Ginny’s shirt, his head buried in the side of her neck. Ginny’s hips were thrust against his pelvis, frozen in mid-air, both arms wrapped around his near naked back.
“Harry,” she said in a low voice somewhere from the vicinity of his throat. “Please tell me my whole family did not just witness our reunion.”
Harry swallowed and lifted his head to find the Weasley family, Remus, Tonks, Hermione, Professor McGonagall and most of the Order standing in a semi-circle around them. Remus and Tonks looked like they were trying not to laugh; Hermione looked like she was about to cry, and the Weasley family looked shocked. He turned his gaze to find Professor McGonagall looking down at them disapprovingly. It was she who had stopped them.
“Hey,” Harry said weakly. “Voldemort’s gone.”
Chapter 9: Chapter 9
Several hours later, Harry and Ginny stood together on a hill, watching the Ministry Aurors clean up the aftermath of the battle. They’d been congratulated over and over again, and it was the first minute they’d had to themselves. Harry, Ron and Hermione refused to tell the Minister of Magic what they’d done to ensure Voldemort could be killed, and Professor McGonagall had to finally chase the Minister off.“The press will probably be here soon,” Ginny commented, her eyes fastened on her parents who were wrapped up in a tearful hug with her elder brother Percy.
Harry sighed and grasped her hand tighter. “I know. Please don’t let that Skeeter woman get me.”
“Actually,” Ginny said, “I’ve got an escape route already planned.”
He turned towards her, his eyebrows lifted in question.
“Harry,” she said gently, taking his other hand in hers. “What would you say to leaving…for a while?”
“Is this the arrangement you mentioned in that dream we shared?”
She nodded. “Yes.”
“How long?”
She shrugged. “As long as we want, I suppose.”
Harry turned back to the throng on the grounds of Hogwarts. What were his responsibilities towards the world now? Should he stay and help clean up the mess? Could he really just leave…and not say anything to anyone about what had happened?
“Harry,” Ginny said quietly. “It’s over. You’ve done your part. Let someone else do this.” She nodded to Ron and Hermione who were efficiently organising the wounded and the prisoners for Ministry transport.
He looked back at her. “I…I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now,” he confessed. “I never thought past this part before.”
“We’ll figure it out,” she urged. “Together. We’ve got the rest of our lives to discover life again.”
Harry nodded. “I’d like that.” He squeezed her hand.
“Then let’s be selfish this one time,” she said, stepping closer to him. “Will you come?”
Harry turned his head to look one last time at Ron and Hermione. They’d been through so much together, how could he just abandon them now? And the Weasleys. What would Ginny’s parents say about him taking their 17-year-old daughter away?
“I’ve already spoken to Hermione and my mother,” Ginny said, reading his mind. “Everything’s okay.”
Harry’s eyes met Hermione’s across the grounds. Her words from last summer echoed in his mind. “It’s okay to be selfish once in a while.” Hermione nudged Ron and he looked up. The two of them clasped hands, and Harry saw Ron nod at him, a reluctant grin on his face. Hermione lifted her hand and waved at them. And he knew they understood.
He grinned and turned back towards Ginny. “All right,” he said, suddenly eager to begin. “Let’s go.”
She smiled brilliantly at him and grasped his hands. Harry felt a squeezing sensation and Hogwarts disappeared. When he opened his eyes they were standing on a beach. It was midday and not a soul was in sight. He turned around slowly and his eyes fell on a cottage several yards away. It was a one-story bungalow with weathered shingles and just the right size for two people.
He looked back at Ginny. She was smiling at the expression of wonder on his face. “Is this ours?” he asked in a hushed voice.
She nodded.
“For how long?”
“For as long as we want,” she said. She tugged on his hand and they began to walk towards the cottage. “You left enough money in my trunk to purchase a small village actually. So I bought this and had it stocked with clothes and food. We don’t have to leave for weeks if we don’t want to.”
“Where exactly are we?”
“Ireland actually,” she answered, “It was as far away as I could get and not violate any international Apparition laws. But we’re connected to the Floo, and Hedwig knows how to get here. Hermione’s going to pack up our things at Hogwarts and send them on. We’ll be fine.”
They reached the front door and Ginny stopped. “Is this okay? Are you all right with this?”
Harry smiled. “It’s perfect.” And it was. He couldn’t believe she had done so much work. It was the perfect place to recover from the last two years and remember what it was that Harry Potter actually enjoyed doing. And he would get to do it all with Ginny. Just the two of them.
Ginny opened the door, and he peered inside the cottage. He couldn’t see a bedroom but the place was only big enough for one. Harry felt his body hum. He looked back at Ginny. “There’s only one bedroom?”
Ginny bit her lip and nodded.
“Then…you know what’s going to happen, right? You’re okay with this? You really want to?” They had never taken that final step at Hogwarts. They had done everything but.
Ginny rolled her eyes at him. “Merlin Harry, I nearly ripped the clothes off you on the battlefield. I think I’ve made it clear what I want.”
Harry grinned and picked her up in his arms. He carried her across the threshold, and she directed him to the bedroom at the back of the house. He lay down on the bed beside her and they undressed each other leisurely–the urgency from before disappearing as they rediscovered each other. Harry particularly enjoyed rediscovering the spot on her neck that had always made her gasp.
Later, when Harry was moving inside of her for the first time, he noticed tears on Ginny’s cheeks. “Are you okay?” he whispered. “Am I hurting you?”
“No,” she whispered back and slid her hands over the muscles flexing in his back as his spine rolled. “I’m just so incredibly happy. They’re tears of joy.”
He moved his hips again, thrusting deeper; she gasped and clutched at him tighter. “Marry me,” he whispered, his lips pressed against hers. “Please, Ginny, be mine forever.”
Ginny lifted her hips to meet his thrusts. “I already am yours forever,” she whispered. “But yes, Harry, I’ll marry you.”
Harry felt like weeping with joy himself and let his forehead rest on hers. Their tears mingled as they moved together. Right before he took her over the edge he whispered one more time, “I love you.”
She gasped the same words back to him as her body arched and he let himself tumble over with her, chanting her name over and over again until the only thing left were the white lights exploding behind his eyes and the way her body was wrapped around him.
******
They wound up staying a year. A year free from Death Eaters, the ministry, the press and well-meaning fans. A year of waking up late, taking afternoon naps, long, slow walks on the beach and making love whenever and whereever they felt like it. They were wonderfully isolated and Harry took immense pleasure in learning what it was like to be with Ginny without the fear of Voldemort hanging over their heads.
No one knew where they were except for Hermione, the Weasleys, Remus, Tonks and Professor McGonagall, and they all refused to talk, despite the constant pressure to produce Harry Potter. They were married on the beach by McGonagall and spent their honeymoon in the same cottage after they managed to kick Fred and George out who thought it a big joke to keep their sister and new brother-in-law from consummating their marriage.
Harry went to bed every night grateful for a soft mattress, a real pillow and one more night where he didn’t have to sleep with his wand in his hand. Instead his hand held Ginny’s and when he watched her sleep, he promised he would never forget how it felt to have her for a bed mate instead of Ron.
Harry spent a whole year not worrying about what the Daily Prophet said about his life or his intentions, and when they finally returned to England, he found he didn’t much care anymore. He played Quidditch until Ginny gave birth to their first child and they returned to the same cottage in Ireland to watch their new son take his first steps on the sand and where Harry delighted in trying to get Ginny pregnant again.
His children grew up without fear and with more love than they needed. No prophecies were made about their births or their destinies, and Harry finally got what he, and all those who had loved him, always wanted–peace.