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SIYE Time:10:47 on 28th March 2024
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Moonlight Sonata
By giulia

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Category: Post-HBP
Characters:None
Genres: Romance
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: G
Reviews: 10
Summary: At the end of Harry's birthday dinner, Harry and Ginny unconsciously say goodbye to each other - they don't know it yet, but this is going to be the last night they see each other before the Final Battle.
Hitcount: Story Total: 2778



Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work.



Author's Notes:

Hello there!

My name is Giulia. I spent a lot of time reading stories on this website and now I finally decided to give it a try... and publish one of my stories.

It's important for me to say that English is not my first language. I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistake - I'll get better with practice, won't I?

I'd really like to know what you think. I want to improve and your comments would help me a lot with that.

Giulia





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It was past midnight, but the Burrow was still illuminated and pleasant - one point of light in a wide, pitch-black world.
Dinner had been all eaten in a while; Hagrid, Lupin, and Tonks had already turned in and Fleur had gone to bed, excusing herself with the fact that she had to rest as much as possible that night - but the rest of the people were still in the backyard, listening to Mr. Delacour, whose drunkenness made his French accent even more pronounced, telling all about his wedding on a Normandy's beach.
"And Apolline was zimply charmant," he slurred, giving a faded smile to his wife. "It'z a that there 'eez this war. We could've planned for our children the same ceremony."
Ginny, who had only heard flashes of the conversation, yawned and took a glance at Ron. He had his eyes shut and his head on Hermione's shoulder, who looked a lot like someone who has never experienced anything so amazing in her life - the weight of the person she loves on her own body.
But then Ginny noticed that Ron had drooled on Hermione's shirt, and started laughing. She hoped that Fred and George had noticed too and that they would plan something to make this little incident unforgettable.
Her mother pinched her arm to make her stop - she probably thought that she was laughing at Mr. Delacour, who was now describing his honeymoon in Italy.
"If you can't hold yourself," she whispered in a sharp voice, "go back in the kitchen. There's a pile of plates that needs to be washed."
Ginny snorted, but took the chance, because she was tired of Mr. Delacour's drunken stories and of her mother's paranoia, and moreover she'd rather be on her own for a while.
She went in the kitchen, put on a pair of rubber gloves, took an old sponge, and started to scrub everything she found next to the sink.
From time to time, she looked up and peeked outside the window. She could see that her dad was really tired and that Bill was heartily talking to Charlie, ignoring his father-in-law-to-be. The fact that her mother persisted on being awake was rather odd - was she still waiting for Percy to show up at the last minute, or was she still trying to accept that her eldest son was about to get married? Or… was she wondering when was another son of hers going to leave without knowing when he would come back?
That thought gave Ginny shivers. She instinctively looked for the chair where Harry Potter had been sitting all night, expecting to find his face still dismayed by the encounter with Scrimgeour.
But she didn't. The chair was empty and he had disappeared.
She looked down on the water that was flowing on her hands and, in a brief moment of insanity, she wondered whether she had been imagined everything - even the fact that that was Harry's birthday dinner, that they had shared a kiss in her bedroom a few hours before, that in a time that seemed so far away they had loved each other…
But a voice coming from her back solved her doubts. The deepest, sweetest and most desired voiced of them all.
"I was wondering if you needed a hand."
Ginny made the mistake of looking at him, and those emerald eyes made her heart melt.
"Oh - no," she replied quickly, trying to not give herself away. "It's your birthday. Go outside and have fun."
Harry took a glance at his new clock, and then showed it to her.
"Actually, not anymore."
Then, before Ginny could say anything, he took a step closer to her.
"Why would you do by hand what you can do with magic?"
Ginny flinched.
"Well," she muttered, putting her hands on her hips, "because I still have the Trace on me."
Harry chuckled. "You might," he said, pulling out his wand out of his pocket and pointing it towards the pile of dirty dishes. Then he shook it softly and everything was clean and tidy within a second.
"But I don't."
Ginny gave him an amused gaze. "You like to show off the fact that you're finally seventeen, don't you?"
"I was expecting a thank you," replied Harry, raising his hand to gently brush her hair, but pulling it back immediately. "Erm, sorry. Old habit."
Ginny pretended that nothing happened and that she hadn't seen him blush.
"Thanks," she sighed.
Harry took a deep breath, as he was looking for the right words to say.
"You did a good job anyways," he mumbled, pointing to the dishes. "I mean before I came to help you out."
"Yeah. It was a good way to keep away from monsieur Delacour and my mother."
"She taught you well," commented Harry, still unable to hold her gaze.
"Who?"
"Your mum. She taught you well to do the house chores."
Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "Disadvantages of being her only daughter."
"You mean advantages," he made clear. "I guess it's rare to find someone that would rather scrub dishes instead of chatting in the backyard."
"I only wanted to run away from that madness," restated Ginny, arching her eyebrows.
He was overtalking - Ginny could easily tell. He always did when he was nervous or when he wanted to keep the conversation going. She wished she could hush him with a kiss, she wished she could let him know everything that had been left unsaid in her heart. But, before she could do anything, he started to talk again.
"What I'm trying to say, Ginny", he said sweetly. "Is that the man who you're going to marry will be very lucky."
Ginny thought she was going to faint. They'd never talked about their future like, whether they wanted to spend it together or not, and that small remark ran through her heart like a blade. But it didn't make her give up. She never gave up.
"You'll be very lucky then," she murmured with a trembling voice.
A glare went through Harry's expression but then abandoned it again. "I wish. But I really can't expect you to…"
Ginny shook her head, and she took off the rubber gloves with a vehement gesture.
"Harry," she breathed, "you still can't get over the fact that I'll wait for you, can you?"
He stared at her silent.
"Come on, be realistic. I've already waited for you long enough, do you really think another bit of time will change how things are?" she asked, holding his glare. "I'll be honest with you - I tried so hard to tell myself that I had other chances. But I don't. I never have."
She felt like a knot at the bottom of her throat. She suddenly understood where that conversation would lead her. So she prepared herself to say what she should've said a long time before.
"I love you, Harry." She saw him turning pale but went on. "And you can bet on the fact that this won't change. Don't ask me to forget about you, to find somebody else, to try to start a new life. I don't want a new life, if you are not in it." She took a deep breath. "And if I will die for this, if I'll die for loving you… I won't mind. I'll die to protect the most important thing in my life."
While she was talking, Harry had seated on a wooden chair and had taken his head in his hands.
Ginny stared at him carefully enough to notice that his shoulders were shaking almost as if he was crying. She approached him and took his hands, forcing him to look at her. His eyes were red and swollen, but there were no tears on his face.
"But it won't happen. You'll come back to me, and I'll wash for you as many dishes as you want."
Harry gave a hint of a smile. Then he grabbed her waist and pulled her closer to him, making her seat on his knees.
"Is this an old habit too?" asked Ginny, wrapping her arms around his neck.
He nodded, but became serious. "I miss you so much, Ginny. I don't even want to think about me leaving…"
She held him tight, kissing his head. She said nothing - she knew she didn't need to.
"The truth is I'm scared. I'm scared of what's expecting me, I'm scared of failing while trying to give this world a better future," confessed Harry, sinking in her embrace. They were so close to each other that it almost looked like they had become one single person. "And the idea of having you far away, of being unable to protect you is killing me. I…"
It didn't take long for Ginny to realize that she had started to cry. She felt like she was slowly crumbling.
"I promise you that I'll come back to you," said Harry finally. "I love you, too. You're the reason why I'm doing all this."
Ginny answered with a sob. She gazed at him and then kissed him intensely - she kissed him like she'd never known love before.
Not only their lips were touching each other, but their souls were melded - they were dancing together to a moonlight sonata.

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