Restless Heart Syndrome by notadryeeye



Summary: 17 Years have passed since the fall of Voldemort. Just as the world thinks it has finally started to heal and move on, some things thought long lost begin to awaken.
Rating: R starstarstarstarhalf-star
Categories: Alternate Universe, Post-Hogwarts
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2009.10.28
Updated: 2018.10.27


Restless Heart Syndrome by notadryeeye
Chapter 1: Prologue
Author's Notes:

So this is what it felt like...

This is what people meant when they said the aftermath and the cleaning up was sometimes harder than the hell you had to go through to get here...

This is what it was like to win...and yet, to lose everything at the same time...

The rain was beating down all around her as she perched there high above, falling far below as if to begin to wash away and heal the ruined and scarred grounds.

Her hair and clothes had long ago been plastered to her pale, thin frame as the droplets assaulted her relentlessly. The cold, unforgiving stone beneath her bit into the backs of her legs as she clung to the edge, not sure if they would hold for long or if she even wanted them to...

What was the point in holding on now?

This day was supposed to have been one for victory--a glorious revolution against a force so dark and evil--an evil which had been overthrown by all that was pure and good about this world...

But as the celebrations went on floors below, within these very castle walls, people flooding its gates to join in the merriment and to receive confirmation that it was really over--she would find no such solace and elated emotion in the aftermath of this fight...

The world had been saved from the brink of certain destruction...but hers had been destroyed and irrevocably shattered with the same stroke of fortune and fate.

He was gone....unable to enjoy the victory he had brought them all.

He was dead.

And right now, she very much wished she was too.

Then she could be with him again...safe from this pain and hollowness that was filling her heart and numbing her senses.

Perhaps it was that desire that had lead her up here, to the top of the highest of ramparts of Hogwarts castle? With tears in her eyes and without much thought of her destination, she had blindly ran through corridor after corridor, bumping into people unapologetically--unable to stand the smiles and the random cheers that erupted from time to time from the celebrating crowds of witches and wizards. She had climbed countless stairs to get away…until her whole body seemed to be on fire, her lungs threatening to burst from her chest from exertion

It was that which had lead her to this very spot, sitting perilously upon the stone ledge of the Astronomy tower and perched upon the edge of something more.

She’d had thought about jumping…intended it for a moment as she’d stood too close to the edge, leaning over ever so slightly before putting a foot upon the last stone barrier that held her back. She had gotten to the highest point, daring to look down upon the grounds that were barely visible to her eyes from rain and sheer height that she stood.

In her grief and her sudden desperation to stem the steady flow of pain pumping through her veins, it had seemed the only solution–the only end that would make it all better–make it all go away…

But even as she'd teetered on the edge, there was something holding her there, not allowing her to let go. There was still some rational part buried within her, screaming at her to stop--to think about what she was doing. Fighting against that part with all her might, she had finally collapsed against the rampart, clutching tightly to the stone as her legs hung over the edge and the tears came freely and in desperate sobs.

She did not know how long she'd been here, like this, still on the edge but farther away from going over...

But she had been so consumed by her grief that she hadn't heard the door open and someone approach her slowly.

"Ginny."

The voice was quiet, yet clearly audible through even the din of the falling rain. It was tentative and scared sounding, full of that same sort of anguish that Ginny herself was feeling.

She didn't turn at the sound of her name. She knew who it was...knew who had come for her. And she didn't think she could face him...

"Gin...please," he spoke to her, his voice a few feet behind her now. "Please come down from there," he asked, his voice much smaller than she was used to.

She didn't speak...but instead raised her eyes to the sky, her tears melting from her face and mingling with the rain pelting her skin.

"He--he wouldn't want that for you," he whispered to her brokenly and Ginny felt him move to stand next to her. Ginny swallowed heavily at his words, knowing the truth in them. Slowly she looked up, forcing herself to meet his gaze.

But Ron wasn't looking at her. As he stood there, leaning against the stone barrier, his eyes were forward, staring blankly into the rain and the darkening skies that hovered over the grounds below.

"I know," Ginny managed to respond in a strained voice. Ron broke from his trance at her words, his red-rimmed eyes meeting her own. He looked as broken as she felt--both torn asunder amidst the clearing of the darkness.

"But I don't--I don't think I'm strong enough," she whispered in anguish.

"You are…or you will be," Ron replied quietly with an encouraging nod. "I know it's going to be hard for a long time...but one day...we'll all be strong enough again," he paused for a moment, sniffing back tears and breathing deeply to steady himself.

"So we've got to keep thinking towards that day and hang on," he continued. "It's too soon to think about anything but how much it hurts...but when the time is right....it'll let us start to move on..."

"Was I delusional in thinking I'd be able keep him?" Ginny said aloud into the rainy night, both speaking to herself and to Ron.

"No," Ron replied shaking his head heavily. "And if you were...I'm sure as hell glad for it."

Ginny looked up at his last statement, surprised to find a small smile twisted upon his grief-stricken features.

"I know I can't say I know exactly what it's like for you...not with what you meant to him," Ron whispered, once again taking to staring out into the invisible nothingness that seemed to stretch out before them. "I really didn't think we'd lose him either...or that'd it hurt this much..."

Ron let out a shaky breath, barely holding onto the last shred of composure that he had.

"I already miss him," he whispered in a torn voice. "He was my best friend…a brother--and I--I loved him. I know that...it was a different sort of love but--" Ron trailed off, bowing his head as he could no longer speak.

"He loved you too," Ginny responded knowingly. "I know he did--and he knew that you--" but she too broke away, not having the strength to talk about him any longer or risk saying his name aloud.

Ron didn't respond with any words, but there soon were arms wrapped around Ginny and she melted into them, letting her brother pull her from the ledge. She clung to Ron, letting him lift her feet from the ground as he held her tight. Both were sobbing uncontrollably now, letting go of their emotions completely as they let the grief of the day and the reality of their loss wash over them.

Voldemort had been defeated today.

His reign of ruthlessness prejudice that had spawned violence and destruction was over and the defenders of all that was good in the world had prevailed.

It had been a glorious battle, one that would be written about for ages. Both sides, light and dark had clashed epically within the hallowed halls of Hogwarts, Good and evil battled each other with everything they had, meeting this one last time to decide the outcome of their world.

All had answered the call of their respective banners, rallying under the shadows of two men--one, a monster beyond comprehension–the other, the epitome of everything good and right.

As witches and wizards fought and died around them, Voldemort and Harry had sought one another out, looking to engage each other and end the war once and for all. Voldemort’s Horcruxes had been destroyed and the only thing separating them from resolution was the skill of their wands.

They had found each other upon the hallowed grounds of Hogwarts castle, surrounded by the battling fighters that would become the watching crowd of witnesses to their epic showdown. The sea of people had split, as if allowing them room to let fate's hand play out before them.

Voldemort had struck out first, attacking ruthlessly as Harry was forced to go on the defensive, sporadically and wildly trying to ward off the countless hexes and curses flung his way. But he held his ground, displaying skill and reaction beyond his years, fending off Voldemort until he could find an opening of his own.

As Voldemort continued to strike on, his taunts became more numerous as Harry showed signs of weakness. The hits he took mounted as spells began to get through his shields. He was bloodied and bruised as spells began to bombard him. But just as Voldemort's taunts reached a fever pitch, Harry struck back with blows of his own, drawing on a different kind of strength from within. He seemed to find a renewed source and surge of power that surprised his counterpart and everyone else around.

They battled for what seemed like hours, but lasted mere minutes, both casting spells and firing their best hope for the end at one another.

And then...their spells had connected. Their wands locked and the feverous fighting stopped. They were now engaged in a different sort of battle as each one had tried to hang on as their wands vibrated and pulsated within their grasps. The white jet of light connected them to one another, non-relenting as they tried to disengage and break the hold.

A dome of the same white light had began to form around them...pushing all those watching slowly further away from the pair.

Voldemort had looked slightly unnerved; his slit-like eyes widened as the hold seemed to tightened and draw him closer to his opponent.

But Harry had looked oddly determined--though there had been a flicker of fear--a wavering of bravery in his eyes as he stayed locked with his nemesis. Unlike Voldemort, it was as though he knew something was coming--but was going to face it nonetheless...

And the world was rent apart.

The white light erupted and obliterated all sound and sight. Those nearby were thrown into the air and slammed to the ground yards away--knocked unconscious from the force of their fall and the shock and trauma of the blast. The castle shuddered upon the very grounds that it had stood so strongly upon for centuries, windows blowing out and exploding within their frames.

If she hadn't come to, back to consciousness from the nightmare shortly after, Ginny would have thought the world had ended; blown apart by the force of that exploding power.

But she had woken up; awoken to a pain and grief so deep that it seemed to cut every inch of her inside and out.

There had been nothing left.

Nothing but scorched and scarred earth beneath where the two men had been standing and battling. It was as if the blast had erased and incinerated every last shred of evidence that they had been there.

With it, the blast had taken the evil and cleansed the earth that it had stained for so long.

But it had also taken the light...extinguished the very good that they had been fighting for...

-------------------------------------

The days and weeks after the battle seemed to pass by in a blur of meaningless time and motion.

It was all just an endless parade of grief and agony, mixed in with some occasional well-meant and well-placed wishes and thoughts as people passed by in a fog, followed by another repeat period of the same darkness and anguish.

There had been the cleanup and restoration of the castle grounds; thousands of witches and wizards flocking in to lend their help with the recovery of the wounded and those lost, as well as the rebuilding of the damaged fortress.

And then had come the days of mourning...the seemingly endless wave of funerals and memorials of those who had fought and died that day. And it wasn't just Aurors and of age witches and wizards who had answered the ultimate call and given their lives, there were a number of fellow students Ginny had known, along with a few recently graduated in the past few years.

Those were probably the hardest to sit through. Having to say goodbye to classmates and friends and watch their families suffer wasn't an easy thing to do. There were so many young people who had had their lives cut short in such a brutal way...

They had held a large public memorial for Harry.

Scores of people showed up to pay their respects and come together as a collective community to honor their fallen hero.

Ginny didn't really remember a whole lot of the proceedings--the meaningless, generic speeches given by Ministry officials and officers and the tears that seemed to leak from everyone's eyes. It all seemed so sterile, so over the top and over done.

With all their words and posthumous accolades--they'd gotten him all wrong.

They didn't really understand who Harry was at all...

And so they'd had their own private service--a gathering of those who truly counted Harry among them and loved him as a brother, son, friend and soul mate.

Of course there hadn't been any body to bury. Remus had been the first of them to come to after the explosion and had searched initially afterwards for any sign...but there simply was nothing left.

The grave below where they had placed a headstone had been empty, filled only with a few mementos from Harry's life that his friends had found fitting to place there. The beautiful white marble marker that had been placed beside that of his parents was only a symbolic memorial, instead of what should have been a final resting place.

The afterwards had been, if possible, even harder...

The realization began to set in that, even though they'd won and things should be moving towards the better, there was always now going to be a gaping hole...this is how life was going to really be.

Everyone seemed to try to move on the best they could–returning to jobs and trying to put the effort forth to the little, normal activities of everyday life…

Ginny knew that she would never really recover fully from this loss. Time would go on and she’d find another path in life to follow…but she could never truly be the same.

Harry had been her first love, the one person she had ever dreamt of a future with, despite all the odds they had stacked against them from the word go. Their time had been short and intermittent, torn apart by a war that had threatened their happiness. But she had been happy, happier than she could ever remember being when she was with him, wrapped in his warm, strong embrace.

But that was all gone now and as much as her grief was affecting her every emotion and thought, it also seemed to be manifesting itself physically.

She could not ever remember this ill before; nothing she ate, either willingly or coaxed into by her mother, seemed to agree with her. She simply could not keep anything substantial down and it was beginning to visibly affect her health. She was so tired and run down nearly all the time, that she barely left her bed, save to regurgitate her meager stomach contents back into the toilet across the hall. And the headaches she was experiencing were so severe that she kept the drapes on her windows down to darken the room.

This had been going on for over a week now and her family was noticing this pattern as something more than just grief. She knew they were becoming worried at how sick and lethargic she had become, and truthfully, so had she…

Maybe it had something to do with the blast at the end of the battle? But if that were the case…how come no one else she knew of was reacting this way?

So this morning her mother had summoned a healer to the Burrow to check her over. She’d spent the last half hour letting the healer run a series of tests and ask her questions about both her physical and emotional health. So far the healer had yielded no results as to why she was suddenly taken ill and retreated to the hallway to talk with her mum about five minutes ago.

‘Maybe I really am dying,’ Ginny thought to herself as she lay her head against her pillows, letting the silence of the room envelope her. People die from broken hearts…maybe this was what was happening to her?

Oddly that prospect didn’t scare her as much as it should at the moment. If this was, in some way, going to be her end, then at least…at least she’d get to see him again. That, in some weird way, was a comfort in this situation.

Ginny had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t realized that the door to her bedroom had opened again. It was only the sound of footsteps on floorboards that brought her attention back.

Her mother had reentered the room alone and was moving towards the edge of the bed. She was smiling softly, but there was a certain level of strain in the muscles around her mouth. Something was wrong and Molly Weasley was trying her best to mask her anxieties and keep her worry from her daughter.

"Mum?" Ginny asked in a small voice as Molly sat on the edge of the bed, absentmindedly smoothing the covers with a hand.

Molly looked up, still smiling in that tensed way.

"What did he say?" Ginny asked, referring to the healer who had come this morning and who was now oddly absent. She let her own eyes lock with those of her mother's, who’s shown a flicker of hesitance within their brown orbs.

"He--he can't find anything--wrong," Molly said slowly and heavily. Ginny could already sense the 'but' coming in the next breathe her mother was going to speak.

"But he thinks he might--know--what's going on with you..." Molly finished.

Ginny could only furrow her brow in confusion. How could something be going on with her--something that was making her ill and sapping her energy--and it not be wrong or bad?

Molly must have sensed her daughter's confusion, because she reached for Ginny's closest hand, which was lying slack on the bed between them, grasping it in her own.

Molly took a deep breath and then swallowed heavily before she spoke.

"So I have to ask, sweetheart," Molly said quietly.

"Is there..." she paused, looking down momentarily for some form of strength, "Is there--any--way...that you could be pregnant?"

Ginny saw her mother's lips move as she spoke; heard the words ringing in her ears. She could see her mother, whose face was etched with concern, but she couldn't react, couldn't bring herself to comprehend what had just been asked.

"The symptoms match...so the healer asked," Molly spoke again. "But I didn't know how to answer him. I wasn't sure...if you--and Harry had...been intimate."

That had done it. The sound of his name had snapped Ginny back to reality--a reality that suddenly washed down upon her and sucked the very air from her lungs.

They had been...if only a few times.

They'd still been exploring one another, learning each other's bodies and enjoying the newness of being lovers.

The first few times she knew they'd been safe and careful. Harry'd been quite consistent and persistent in remembering to suggest that they cast the contraception charm on themselves.

But the last time...that last night before the siege at Hogwarts...she couldn't recall that sort of moment.

All she could remember was the peace of that night--the ease between them as they'd joined together. There hadn't even been any of the nervous laughter that had accompanied their first few times. There'd been nothing awkward about it at all.

And it had been the only time Harry'd stayed the entire night until morning--not waking her with a kiss like he had previous times to let her know he was leaving--sneaking out before day had broken and anyone else in the house was awake. Instead, she'd fallen asleep and woken up wrapped in his arm, nestled up against his chest as she'd listened to him sleep soundly.

That had been the last time they'd been together--the last time she'd gotten to hold him and really touch him. That same day he'd been swept away, consumed by the call of battle and his showdown with fate.

Since she'd lost him, she'd tried so hard to hold onto the memories of those last caresses they'd shared. But now those same moments she'd tried to cherish held something different in them.

Could she really be?

She already knew the answer, of course.

And she externalized that possibility and answered the question and the worry in her mother's eyes with a slow nod of her head.

"Oh, Ginny," her mother whispered, squeezing the hand she was still holding tightly. There were tears in Molly's eyes as she reached out soothingly to brush away a strand of fire-red hair from her daughter's face. Surprisingly, Ginny found her own vision cloudy, evidence of her own tears welling up.

"I didn't..." Ginny found herself saying as she struggled against a new wave of fear. "I didn't...think...Oh god…"

"Shhh," Molly soothed as she pulled Ginny to her and wrapped her into a tight embrace. "It’s alright…it’s ok,” she whispered as Ginny succumbed to tears, burying her face against her mother’s shoulder.

Ginny let her mother hold her tightly as the weight of the situation pressed down around her. It was a long while before either of them spoke.

“Would it be alright…if the healer came back in to check you over?” Molly asked quietly after pressing a kiss into the crown of her daughter’s hair. “To make sure?” she added gently.

Ginny knew what her mum meant of course. Although it was a possibility that a pregnancy was causing her symptoms, there needed to be confirmation.

Pulling away from her mother’s embrace and sitting up to rub her eyes clear of moisture, Ginny nodded.

“Yeah,” she added weakly.

“Ok,” her mum responded, shakily rising from the bed. “He’ll want to run a few…scans…and ask you a few questions…some might seem a bit embarrassing.”

Ginny nodded again as she watched her mum move towards the door.

“Mum,” Ginny whispered. Molly paused, looking back towards her daughter. “Are you going to come back in?" she asked in a small voice.

"Only if you want," Molly replied.

"Stay with me," she stated shakily.

And she did. Molly Weasley stayed, holding her daughter's hand as she lay there, letting the healer run the needed diagnostic scans over her mid-section.

She stayed, wiping away the tears from Ginny's face that came as their fears were confirmed and the ultrasound scan showed the tiniest flicker of a beating heart--a heart which had previous gone unknown and undetected.

She stayed, holding her daughter as she fell asleep, exhausted from expending a whole new wave of grief--a wave of grief for a life lost and for another that had yet to really begin.

But even as she closed the door on the dark bedroom that held Ginny's sleeping form and wiped her own face from the tears she'd let escape, Molly still had that hope that things would be alright. That this situation contained a small glimmer of hope and happiness in what had only been a sea of grief and loss.

Ginny had choices to make...she knew that. And whatever choice she made would lead down a difficult road solely on the fact that the person Ginny needed most couldn't be there with her to hold her and make things better. Had Harry still been alive, they'd still be facing this road of tough decisions--but they'd be together and so much stronger for it.

Now she knew that as a family, they'd all have to rally around Ginny. Despite the pain and tragedy they’d experienced recently, never had it been more important to provide love and support to one another.

Ginny would need them all to make it through this and Molly was certain she’d do her best to make sure her youngest had her family to prop her up and guide her through the darkness.

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