Mockery of the Heart
“I don’t need you.”
Her eyes flashed with hurt but she turned her face so he couldn’t see how his words affected her.
“You don’t mean that,” she whispered.
“I don’t want you.”
He saw her visibly wince at that and, on closer inspection, saw her hands were trembling.
“Oh. I see.” She raised her eyes and met his own. “And this isn’t just some crazy scheme to keep me away, right? You really — honestly, Harry — don’t like me like that anymore?”
Harry hesitated as he took in the sight of her. The moonlight shone on her pale, freckled skin and the gold dress set off her vibrant red hair. Her brown eyes were full of prepared protection to whatever his answer might be. He took in all the pain in her small, slender body and felt his heart break slightly.
He hated what he was doing — on her brother’s wedding, no less — but he had to. If he wanted her alive, he needed to hurt her. He had to save her at any means possible.
Even if it killed him.
So when he said, “I don’t need you,” once more, he maintained his mask of indifference as tears welled up in those brown eyes and her frame wilted.
As he walked away and heard her repressed sobs, he tried not to collapse as his heart shattered into a thousand pieces.
-------
“I don’t need you.”
She tensed but nodded as she continued cleaning the plates. “I know.” Her back was to him and her hair piled up in a high ponytail, exposing her white neck. He resisted the urge to kiss her softly, to trail kisses against that taunting, soft expanse of skin…
He shook himself and leaned against the doorway, trying to appear arrogant.
“I don’t want you.”
“I know,” she snapped, slamming a plate on the counter. Miraculously, it didn’t break at the force but he could’ve sworn he saw a crack. Her voice was defeated as she repeated, “I know.”
He studied her for a moment before nodding. Whatever rumors he had heard — that she didn’t believe that he didn’t need or want her anymore — were effectively destroyed as he stared at her back. She vigorously scrubbed a pot harder, trying to ignore the piercing eyes on her back.
He vanished from the spot and left the crooked house, Apparating back to his campsite to reunite with his friends.
-------
“I don’t need you.”
The words tasted sour in his mouth but nevertheless, he whispered them to a picture of her.
“I don’t want you.”
Picture Ginny smiled and waved at him, oblivious to what he was saying.
Harry sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair before laying the picture down on his dresser, unable to look at her again.
The Horcrux hunt was going awful. Ever since his brief return to the Burrow five months ago, he had been in ill temperament and had not been able to focus. Twice, he had almost died because of his carelessness. Twice, Ron and Hermione had just barely saved him from being strangled to death by Slytherin’s locket and hit by the Killing Curse.
And it was all because of her he couldn’t maintain focus. Every night, he dreamt of her tear-stained face as he delivered those awful words. Every night, he saw her dance tauntingly in his dreams as he screamed himself hoarse that he didn’t need her to no avail; she knew the truth and laughed at his foolishness.
Finally, as Harry lay in bed, he knew what he had to do.
He had to see her, had to tell her those words again. Only then could he convince himself he didn’t need her to survive.
Only then he could be rid of her. Or so he thought.
-------
“I don’t need you,” he whispered brokenly, wincing at the way his voice trembled at the lie.
Things were not going as planned. He had returned to Hogwarts, easily managing to enter the grounds undetected — he was, after all, the Boy Who Lived. And Hogwarts had been his home for six years.
Once inside, he had looked at his map and knew instantly when he didn’t see her there, where exactly she was.
The Room of Requirement was an exact replica of the Gryffindor common room and there she sat, sipping hot chocolate and reading a book.
So, he straightened himself, and told her the lie. And failed.
She laughed coldly, sensing the dishonesty. “Sure you don’t,” she replied mockingly. “Sure you don’t.”
He swallowed, feeling fear bubble inside him.
“I don’t want you.”
Her lips twitched in an obvious attempt to restrain herself from laughing again. She gave him a once-over and he knew she saw the dark circles, the thin body, and lie all etched on him, right down to his knobby knees.
“I don’t need you either,” she replied after a moment, the hint of amusement lacing her tone. She gave him a side glance. “I’ve already begun dating again.”
Even though his heart twisted at this, he refused to let her see his face crumple or how much her words had hurt him.
“Oh.”
“Terry Boot, actually. He’s quite the nice fellow, once you get to know him. But,” here, a sly look entered her eyes. “You’ll never get to know him like I know him.”
They fell silent, he to his suffering and she to her glee.
“Doesn’t it make you jealous?” He winced, hearing the determined coyness in causing him pain. Her whispered voice, so full of daggers, stabbed him as she continued. “Doesn’t it make you jealous to know another boy kisses me, touches me? That another boy is more man enough to take what he wants?”
Harry swallowed deeply. “I don’t want you.”
Another lie; she detects that also because she smirks condescendingly.
“Sure you don’t,” she repeated, ridicule dripping from her voice like poison. “But Terry does; he wants me, Harry, and we’ve done things — things you wouldn’t dare to do, because of your nobility complex.” She laughed hollowly.
“Why are you doing this to me?” The words slipped from his tongue before he could stop them. After all, he had done the same thing to her.
All amusement left her face and she studied him so intently he was forced to look away.
“Because you’re weak.” Her words were unexpected; his eyes shot up to meet her pensive ones. “You’re weak, Harry, because you don’t seem to see what you could have if you just let yourself.”
“But Voldemort — ”
“Will kill me whether we’re dating or not,” she said softly. “He already knows, Harry, you have feelings for me — a simple breakup won’t stop that.”
“Then what do I do?” he whispered. “Get back together with you? For what? I’ll be leaving soon and you’ll stay here, with your precious Terry — ”
“Always underestimating me, Potter,” she snapped, anger swelling. “Why can’t I go with you? And if you say it’s too dangerous, I’ll kill you,” she threatened when she saw his mouth open.
It was his turn to observe her. “The war has made you bitter.”
“What war? The one mummy and daddy have forbidden me to go near? The one my ex has kept me from to keep me safe?” The word was spat disgustedly, her nose wrinkling. “I’ve become bitter and cold, Harry, because of my family’s inability to see I’m fully capable to fight for myself.”
“You didn’t do so well when you were eleven,” Harry said without thinking. Immediately he regretted the words as he saw her face pale.
“So that’s how you’re playing,” she hissed, her fists clenched. “Fine. Go back to your little war, Harry. See if I care if you die. See if I — give — a — damn.” Before she turned to go, her lips turned into a nasty smile.
“Just know that Terry will have been the better man, Boy Who Lived or not.”
With that, she was gone, leaving him to wonder when the hunter had become the prey.
------
“I don’t need you.”
She laughed coldly from her place in front of the fire.
“Sure you don’t.”
Harry left the shadows and moved further into the common room. His eyes took in the slim, redheaded girl, who sat curled up on the chair facing the fire.
She didn’t even bother to turn to see who it was.
He moved so he was sitting in the couch next to her chair. A small, bitter smile twitched at her lips as she turned to face him, eyes full of ready mocking.
“I don’t want you,” he repeated.
She arched an eyebrow. “Quite repetitive, aren’t you? Do you think if you say it enough times it’ll come true?”
“I’ve tried a million times and no luck,” he replied evenly and felt a small flare of triumph to see her look taken back, even if only for a moment.
“Well, why would you want me, anyways?” The mocking voice was back, however with a small trace of hurt. “Little Ginny, the fool who almost killed little Muggle-borns. Little Ginny, the idiot who fell prey to a boy named Tom.” She pretended to applaud. “Well done, Harry. Way to see your ex-girlfriend was such a failure and duped so easily.”
“You aren’t a fool,” he whispered. She laughed harshly.
“You said it yourself; I was incapable of taking care of myself then — why should this be any different?”
“Voldemort tricked me too, Gin. He made me believe Sirius was at the Department of Mysteries.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. “Ah yes; everything goes back to the famous Harry Potter. Can’t ever be in a conversation where you aren’t the main topic, hmm?”
“I don’t want to be famous, Ginny, and you damn well know it,” Harry snapped, irritated.
Instead of looking sympathetic — the way he hoped — she merely scoffed.
“Don’t go on a pity rant, Potter; I don’t have time for that,” she hissed. “Now, leave me be. You can do nothing for me and apparently, I nothing for you.”
He stared at her for a moment, the lies repeating themselves in his mind.
I don’t need you. I don’t want you.
She knew they were lies but he couldn’t stop himself from telling her. He needed to cling on to the last hope he had, that she would be safe if she wasn’t with him.
She rose and moved towards him tantalizingly. The sway in her hips made him swallow deeply as he apprehensively eyed the redheaded minx move towards him.
“Are you willing to take the risk with me, Harry?” she said softly, moving close to him — too close. Her lips were practically caressing his skin and he trembled with desire. “Are you willing to be with me, Harry?”
He stared at her, longing clearly in his eyes. She smirked at it, her brown eyes full of triumph as her lips devoured his in long-awaited desire.
------
“I don’t need you.”
Her lips quirked against his as the two lips merged desperately, passionately.
“Sure you don’t,” she whispered, sending shocks through Harry. She trailed kisses down his neck and he moaned.
“I don’t want you.”
He could feel her smirk as she reached an extra sensitive spot. He moaned.
“Of course not,” she replied tauntingly. “Not at all.”
It was his turn to trail kisses up and down her neck; her moans sent jolts of pleasure.
“Does Boot make you moan like this?” he growled. “Does he?”
“No,” she breathed. “We were never — oh — together. Only you could make me feel this way.”
He bit his teeth into her flesh and she gasped; satisfied at making his mark in her lovely skin — my mark, he thought smugly — Harry pulled away and captured her lips against his again. They were frantically snogging as though it would be their last.
Finally, after what seemed like decades, the two broke apart, panting for breath.
“This does not mean we’re together,” he whispered, staring deeply into her brown eyes.
“Just a quick snog and then you’re gone?” She asked. “What next, a shag?”
He winced but didn’t say anything; she would understand his unspoken words.
“All right then,” she said finally. “We’re still broken up; just two teenagers hooking up.” Her eyebrow quirked at this remark. “Am I still free to date other guys?”
Even though this was said in jest, Harry felt dread well inside him. Uncontrollable rage surged through him as he thought of Terry Boot touching her like he had just touched her; feeling her like he had felt her; snogging her like he had —
“No.”
“But I thought you didn’t want me.” Her voice was like a purr as she whispered in his ear. “And we are broken up…just friends with benefits, hmm?”
“We’re so much more than that and you know it.”
“I suppose,” Ginny said in a bored manner, moving away from him. Immediately, the warmth of her body vanished and he unconsciously reached a hand towards her. She eyed it before taking hold of it, letting their fingers to entwine.
When her eyes met his, he saw not the cold indifference he had been receiving for the past months.
He saw the future that everything would be okay.
Smiling, he kissed her fingertips.
“I suppose so,” he whispered, saying much more with those three words. “I suppose so.”