Summary: *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated in over 2 years ***
*** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated in over 2 years ***
The battle of Hogwarts is over, leaving Harry Potter in turmoil. Around him, families grieve for their loved ones and Harry wants nothing more than to be with GInny. However, the guilt that comes with his losses is pulling him away from the love of his life. Can Ginny get him through? And more importantly, can he help her? A H/G story that takes place directly after DH, about learning to live through darkness and death.
**IT SHOULD PROBABLY BE NOTED THAT FRED IS ALIVE IN THIS STORY. IT BECOMES CLEAR IN THE FIRST CHAPTER**
Rating: R
Categories: Alternate Universe, Post-DH/AB
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2007.08.30
Updated: 2008.08.02
How Do I Go On? by Evie_S
Chapter 7: Chapter 7
Author's Notes: Ginny Weasley had never really been one to show her feelings. Growing up in a house with six brothers, displaying any emotion was seen as weakness, and Ginny would never allow anyone to think that she was weak. She was strong. She was a fighter.
But when she woke up on the sofa in Bill and Fleur’s living room, she couldn’t stop the muffled sob that escaped her.
“Shh,” Fleur murmured sympathetically, reaching over to smooth Ginny’s hair. “Shh, it’s okay.”
“I left him,” Ginny said, her voice thick. “He was trying to be there for me and I — I left him.”
Fleur made more low, sympathetic sounding noises and carried on smoothing Ginny’s hair. In some distant part of her mind Ginny realised that Fleur probably hadn’t had a clue what she was going on about.
“He’ll be so angry,” Ginny carried on, squeezing her eyes shut. “Merlin. I just left him.”
“I’m sure he vill not be angry,” Fleur said softly, smoothing back a curl. “He vill just be glad to zee you.”
“I can’t see him,” Ginny muttered. “I can’t look him in the face after that!”
“Of course you can,” Fleur said forcefully. “Of course you can. Harry, he loves you. That vill not change because of one fight!”
“We only dated for a couple of months,” Ginny reasoned, her voice still choked. “And it’s only been a couple of weeks since we got back together. Who loves someone after that long?”
“Harry does,” Fleur said dryly, her hand pulling away from Ginny’s long mane. She could just imagine the French Quarter-Veela narrowing her eyes, her jaw set, determined to make Ginny see sense. “And you do. You do not need to put a time limit on love. It happens when it happens.”
Ginny sighed. That was the problem. It had happened, and she didn’t know if she was ready to deal with those kinds of emotions just yet. Love was a big thing, and it scared her. It scared her because every time she looked at Harry, her love for him seemed to fill every part of her. It was frightening to experience that much love for someone, for anyone.
“Are you saying that you do not love Harry?” Fleur asked after Ginny did not answer.
The petite redhead started, her eyes snapping open. “No!” she exclaimed angrily. “No, of course not. I do love him, of course I do!”
“Then what eez the problem?” Fleur asked, arching one perfect blonde eyebrow.
There was a pregnant pause as Ginny turned large, tortured eyes on Fleur, tortured eyes filled with unshed tears.
“He left me,” she said, her voice rising with every word. “He left me on my own and I had to go back to that school and I had to go through all of that without him. It wouldn’t have been so bad if I’d have known where he was or why or what the hell he was doing or even if he was bloody safe, but I didn’t know! He left me without explaining, without telling me where he was going, without even saying goodbye. And I had to go through that year of hell on my own.”
Fleur was silent, watching with wide eyes as Ginny finally got out the things that had been threatening to take her under for some time now.
“What if he does it again?” Ginny was suddenly whispering, her voice was so soft that Fleur had to strain to hear her. “What if he leaves me again, Fleur?”
Fleur was silent for a long time, searching for the right words to say. How could she put what she knew into words? She knew she couldn’t make Ginny understand how much she had, but she could try to help her.
“’E may do,” Fleur conceded, nodding her head. “Maybe he will. I cannot tell you zat ‘e vill not. I cannot tell you zat your life will be amazing from now on and I cannot tell you zat you’ll be togezer forever. All I can say to you is that Harry loves you very much, and you love him very much. Isn’t that enough? You just have to take the risk.”
“I can’t,” Ginny shook her head determinedly. “I can’t take my heart being broken again Fleur, I just can’t!”
Fleur sighed. She had suspected that answer would come from her sister-in-law, but what could she do? She would just have to wait for Ginny to learn herself.
“Okay,” she said. “So what now? You go back to ze Burrow and ignore Harry like you’ve been doing for ze last week? Zat won’t work, Ginny, and you know it.”
Ginny sighed, shoving a hand through her tangled locks. “I don’t know,” she said eventually. “I don’t know what happens now. I never let myself get my hopes up at Hogwarts, you know? I never let myself think that maybe we’d come out alive and be together. It’s so weird to be thinking about the future now.”
“What is your future?” Fleur asked, binding her hair into a simple knot. “Where do you see yourself in ten year’s time?”
Ginny closed her eyes, trying to picture herself at 26. She was a bit taller with more curves and less freckles. She was stood in front of a trophy cabinet, some of which clearly read ‘Ginny Weasley-Holyhead Harpies’. In one arm she had a little boy, about three or four, with messy black hair and big green eyes. Her other arm was wrapped firmly around her bulging stomach. And next to her a man, eyes shining, grin wide, holding a small lad with black messy hair, green eyes and glasses firmly as if stopping him from running away. Harry.
She rewound a bit in her mind. Five years in the future. She was speeding along on a broom, the Quaffle held firmly in her hand. She scored and turned to the crowd, her eyes seeking out one person. He grinned boyishly, clapping as loud as the rest of her supporters. Harry.
Three years in the future. She was in Madam Malkin’s. Hermione stood on one stool, dressed in a gorgeous floor-length pale green dress. Ginny leaned against the wall, her hand outstretched. An engagement ring glinted clearly on her hand. A big male arm was wrapped firmly around her waist and a big hand took hold of hers, spinning the ring around gently. She turned around. Harry.
Fifteen years in the future. The Burrow was packed with children, little redheads running riot. Ginny sat at the table with a glass of white wine, watching with a soft smile. A ten-year-old boy ran wildly around with his cousins. The exact replica of his father, people were always telling them. Apart from his eyes. He had his mother’s eyes. A younger black haired boy was on a broom, flying higher and faster with every second. A tiny girl with long red hair pouted as she yelled for her turn. And watching these scenes with a wide smile…Harry.
Everything came back to Harry. It always had. Hermione had once told her that it was a way of the universe. Everything came back to Harry, whether it was the world’s survival or the Quidditch final. Ginny didn’t know about that, but the one thing she was sure of was that it was the way of her universe. Everything in her world came back to Harry. She couldn’t imagine herself without him. He was her world, her everything.
The only problem was, she didn’t know if that was enough.
***
Miles away, Harry Potter stormed through the Burrow, his mind whirring. He knew he was making too much noise for the late time of the night and that he was probably waking everyone up, but he didn’t care. Ginny was gone and he had no idea where or why or how to help her.
Reaching the first landing, he threw open Ginny’s door and strode in purposefully. The room was still a mess from their fight. Some clothes were strewn across the bed and the floor; there were marks in the carpet where Ginny had dragged the trunk away.
Without hesitating, Harry began to look through Ginny’s room. It was cluttered; there wasn’t a surface that was empty. Little ornaments, photo frames, tiny pots of perfume, makeup, a hairbrush.
He moved to the shelf, which was cluttered with photos of the Weasley children at different ages. But there, right in the middle was something different. Harry shuffled closer, picking up the photo.
It was of Ginny and him. They were sitting by the lake, Harry sitting on the ground with his knees by his chest and Ginny sitting between his legs, her head resting on his shoulder. He had no idea how it had been taken without him noticing, or even when, but it was a good picture and he had no doubts that it was the work of Colin Creevey. Every so often the picture-Harry would lovingly drop a kiss onto Ginny’s head or twirl her hair gently around his hands.
Harry sat down on Ginny’s bed heavily, running his hands through his hair. Ginny’s support had been so important to him. He couldn’t have got through any of what had happened without her. She had always known exactly what to say to make him feel better or to make him laugh when he felt the guilt was going to suffocate him. But he had no idea how to give her the help she deserved.
He was just sinking into the bed when he heard noises from downstairs. It sounded like Mrs. Weasley’s anxious voice and… Bill?
Harry sprung to his feet and almost flew down the stairs in his haste to get down. He skidded into the kitchen at top speed, making Mrs. Weasley jump. He had been right; it was Bill who was standing up, running a hand through his scarred face.
“Ginny?” Harry said hopefully. Bill sighed.
“She’s at my place,” he said, closing his eyes. “Turned up in a right state, fainted right there on the doorstop. Never seen her so upset.”
“She’s ok though, yeah?” Harry checked. He couldn’t bear to even think about someone else he loved being hurt.
“Yes,” Bill said. “She’s fine, physically, but she’s a mess, Harry. She needs you.”
“I’ve tried!” Harry exclaimed in frustration. He slammed his hand into the wall, making Mrs. Weasley jump again. “I’ve tried to be there for her and every time she just pushes me away!”
“Then try again!” Bill said sharply. “Keep on trying until she gives in. You two are made for each other, a blind man could see that!”
“She doesn’t seem to think so,” Harry spat bitterly.
“Oh grow up!” Bill said. Harry was shocked. Bill had never been anything but pleasant to him. “You’re not kids anymore. If you want to be with her, then you’ve got to fight for this!”
Harry just stared at him. Of course he wanted to be with her. He wanted nothing more. But how?
***
Ginny gulped down the tea in her hands as Fleur busied herself at the stove. She wasn’t sure where Bill had gone but she had an idea it might have been the Burrow. Any second now, her mother would be barging in, threatening to drag her home by the hair if she had to. Or maybe it would be Ron, blowing curses everywhere and anywhere in a blind fit of rage at his sister for hurting his best friend. She didn’t know what would happen, but she was pretty sure it wouldn’t be pretty.
The sound of the front door slamming brought Ginny out of her daydream. She turned around, heart hammering, but saw immediately that Bill was alone.
“Fleur?” he said softly. His wife turned around inquisitively. “I need to talk to Ginny…alone.”
Ginny saw the part-veela glance between the two of them hesitantly, but she did as she was asked and left the room silently.
Bill slid into the seat next to Ginny and sighed.
“Oh, Angel,” he said, running a hand down her back. “What am I going to do with you?”
Ginny shrugged, keeping her gaze on her oldest and favourite brother.
“Things are never simple with you, are they Squirt?” Bill asked. “You can’t just have a normal first year at Hogwarts like everyone else, you have to be possessed by the darkest Wizard to ever walk this earth. You can’t just have a normal teenage crush, it has to be on Harry Potter, of all people. And when you finally get him, you can’t just love him and be with him, you have to get scared and do a runner. Do you enjoy a difficult life?”
“No,” Ginny whispered, shaking her head. “I don’t know what to do, what to think, what to say…it’s crazy. I can’t just sit still; my mind is whirring with thoughts all the time.”
“Perfectly natural,” Bill shrugged. “You’ve just been through a war after all.”
“So has everyone else,” Ginny said, leaning into his hand. “And no one else is going this crazy.”
“It’s not crazy,” Bill shook his head. “It’s normal, Ginny. Maybe you’re going a bit madder than everyone else because everything in your life was hanging in this war. If Harry hadn’t lived, your whole life would’ve been different. Your future was depending on the outcome of the war, so you wouldn’t let yourself think about afterwards. And now suddenly, you’re on the other side, expected to lead a normal life.”
Ginny merely stared at him. She was shocked that he could echo her earlier thoughts. Bill smiled at her dazed expression. “I think I understand. Or I’m starting to. I’ve been a git, haven’t I?”
“Yes,” Bill replied instantly. “There’s no rush to be okay again, Gin. You and Harry can take as long as you need getting over things. Just do it together, okay? You two were born to be with each other.”
***
By the time Ginny arrived back at the Burrow the next day, the residents of the ramshackle house seemed to have gone into overload to compensate for the youngest Weasley’s absence. The house had never seemed louder to Harry, and yet it had never seemed emptier. Without Ginny, the whole place was a little bit dimmer and darker.
It was after lunch when the back door was flung open to reveal an apprehensive Ginny, dressed in the clothes Bill had picked up the night before and clutching a box of cookies.
The kitchen was still full, with Ron, Hermione and Harry washing the dishes, Fred and George pouring over stock lists at the kitchen table and Charlie helping his mother stack the dry dishes in the cupboards. Percy and Mr. Weasley had gone into work.
“Ginny!” Mrs. Weasley breathed. Ginny smiled at her mother, her eyes searching the kitchen. Harry watched her warm brown gaze flicker over Fred and George, skim Hermione’s red face, a soap sud resting on her nose, and finally rest on him.
Pushing the cookies at a confused looking Ron, she took a tiny step toward him. Harry kept his eyes steadily on her, not quite daring to believe that she was actually back.
“Take a walk with me,” she said softly. “We need to talk.”
***
The weather was turning into real summer weather, Ginny noticed. The sun was shining, the trees blowing with just the gentlest of breezes. It was the perfect kind of day.
Harry was remaining stonily silent as they walked toward the pond. Ginny settled herself down under the massive oak tree and waited for Harry to do the same before she finally broke the silence.
“I was a coward,” she said. Harry picked at the grass, not looking at her. “You were trying to help me and I ran away and I’m…I’m sorry.” Ginny kept her eyes on him. She needed to look at him to do this. He made her strong, and that was what she needed to be. Strong.
“You would know more than anyone how strange this is,” she carried on, crossing her legs. “Neither of us has dared to even think about what would happen after the war. It’s like we’re going down this road and there’s no structure, no difference between pavement and road, no stop signs, no speed limit, no directions, nothing to guide us. And I’ve been so caught up with trying to deal with all of that, with trying to establish those things that I forgot that you were going through exactly the same thing.”
Harry looked up, his eyes shining with hope and a small, confused smile resting on his lips. “I don’t think I understood all of that,” he said. “But I get what you’re trying to say.”
Ginny let out a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding and scooted closer toward him.
“I love you,” she said, brushing his fringe out of his eyes and tracing her fingers lightly over his scar. “I do. I know it might not always seem or feel like that, but I love you more than life itself. I just think we were so desperate for a normal life, a normal relationship that we skipped all the important stuff, you know? We don’t have to get over the war this fast. We should be talking and crying and helping out. I think the only way we’re ever truly going to be over these past years is if we mourn them properly.”
Harry’s eyes fluttered shut, but the smile on his face was widening. “I feel the same,” he said. “We’ve skipped some huge steps. We should just take our time, right?”
“Right,” Ginny nodded. “And I think the first step is you telling me what actually happened last year.”
Harry’s eyes snapped open. “What?” he asked faintly.
“I don’t know what happened last year,” Ginny said, leaning against the tree. “You know my story but I don’t know yours. How can we help each other if we don’t know what we’re helping each other get over?”
“I don’t know if I can,” Harry whispered. “It’s in the past, right?”
“Weren’t we just saying that we needed to do this properly?” Ginny countered. “Harry, the past can hurt. The way I see it, you can run from it or learn from it. You need to talk about this just as much as I need to know about it.”
Harry’s gaze was intense. “When did you get to be so grown up?” he asked wistfully. Ginny shrugged.
“Life is what happens while you’re making plans, right?” she said. “I don’t know, Harry. Maybe I’ve just been around my mum too much this summer. Her sayings are rubbing off on me. Humour me. Please, Harry. We need this.”
***
In times to come, Harry would realise how Ginny honestly hadn’t realised that when she looked at him, eyes wide and pleading, he would have given her anything in the whole world.
He told her everything. About the Horcruxes, about their painful searching. He told her about Ron leaving them, about Godric’s Hollow, about how on his long midnight watches, her dot on the map had been the only thing keeping him searching.
By the time Harry had reached what he had thought to be his last confrontation with Voldermort, he and Ginny were both crying.
“Walking past you without saying goodbye,” Harry said, scrubbing a fist across his face to get rid of the tears, “is without a doubt the hardest thing I have ever had to do. You were the last thing I thought of, the last thing I saw. The last thing I thought about was you and our love. I came back for you. I did it all for you, everything!”
“I know, Harry,” Ginny said, moving so she could reach to wipe away his tears. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, letting his tears fall freely into her shoulder. She rocked him back and forth, hugging him to her, her own tears falling into his hair. “I know, I know, I know.”
The sobs that overtook him sounded like they were being wrenched from his gut and the tears that fell down both their faces seemed to be coming from a never-ending supply, but they clutched at each other, determined they would make it through together.
***
When he and Ginny finally got back to the Burrow that night, it was dark. They had been outside for hours, just talking about what had happened to them both over the past nine months.
Ron and Hermione were sat at the kitchen table, two plate of food on the places opposite them.
Ron instantly noticed Harry’s red eyes and Ginny’s tear streaked face, and immediately dove in, tactfully steering the conversation away from any thing to do with the war. He reckoned Harry and Ginny had had enough of that for one day.
“Mum was going off her nut,” he said, nodding toward the two plates. “She’s convinced you two are going to turn into a pile of skin and bones because you’ve missed one meal. You’d better eat that all up, before she starts doing here comes the broomstick.”
Harry smiled gratefully and slid into a chair. Ginny followed suit.
“What’s the time?” Harry asked through a mouthful of pie. “I couldn’t see my watch in the dark.”
“Nearly ten o’clock,” Hermione said, watching every bite Harry and Ginny took. “Mrs. Weasley was ready to come out and fetch you in more than once, but Bill stopped her.”
“Bill was here?” Ginny asked, looking up from the mashed potato she was shovelling into her mouth. “I wanted to thank him for helping me yesterday!”
“He knows,” Ron replied, reaching over to take some of her food. “He said you’re welcome, and he and Fleur will be coming over tomorrow probably.”
Ginny nodded in recognition and went back to her food.
“Honestly,” Hermione rolled her eyes. “Mrs. Weasley needn’t have worried. You two are eating like you’ve never seen food before. Come on, Ron. Why don’t you walk me to my room?”
Once left alone, Harry pushed his empty plate away and smiled at Ginny. “So Hermione seems pretty at home,” he remarked as Ginny finished her meal, picked up both plates and placed them in the sink, running the tap.
“Yeah,” she agreed. “What about you? Are you feeling at home?”
He considered it. “I wasn’t before,” he said eventually. “I was lost, before. But now I have you and I know we can work through this together…I’m happier. My home is wherever you are.”
Ginny’s smile was so brilliant that it warmed his heart. He liked being the one to make her look that happy.
“So,” he said, pulling her onto his lap. “We’ve completed step one. What do you reckon step two is?”
Ginny stroked his hair. “How about you take me on a proper date?” she suggested.
“I can do that,” Harry agreed.
“Good,” Ginny smiled, clambered off his lap and pressed a gentle kiss to his forehead. “I’m going to bed. Good night.”
“Good night,” Harry said, squeezing her hip. “I love you.”
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