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Two Days Early | ||||
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Category: Post-HBP Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Fluff Warnings: None Story is Complete Rating: PG Reviews: 25 Summary: Two more days until his 17th birthday and the end of his exile at Privet Drive, so why is Harry so miserable? Can Ginny help him realize what an idiot he's been? A Harry/Ginny post-HBP fanfic with a little Ron/Hermione thrown in. Hitcount: Story Total: 3879 |
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DISCLAIMER: I own nothing but my feeble imaginings of situations involving characters owned by Ms. JK Rowling and her fine publishers across the globe. In fact, they probably own the imaginings as well! :) The alarm buzzed incessantly just outside of arm’s reach. From deep under his covers, Harry Potter moaned in resignation, rolled onto his side, and turned the foul thing off. As the haze of sleep faded, his heart began to race. Leaping out of the bed, Harry crossed the bedroom excitedly to the opposite wall. As he had each morning this summer, he grabbed a red marker from a nearby table and happily crossed off the previous day. Today was July 29. In two days, he would turn 17, thus becoming a legal adult in the eyes of the wizarding world. No more restrictions on the use of magic. No more ban on Apparition. And, perhaps most importantly of all, he would finally be free of the dreary dungeon on Privet Drive. The thought of losing the magical protection his mother had died to provide him caused a brief sorrow, but this was soon drowned out by the joyous thought of saying his final farewell to the Dursleys. ‘I only wish they could be here to hear,’ Harry thought, noting with amusement the first time in his entire life when he had actually expressed a desire for the Dursleys’ presence. Apparently the events of previous summers had convinced Uncle Vernon that nothing could be done to prevent Harry from spending the summer in his home. So, this year, he had chosen a different tactic. The Dursleys had departed on vacation the day after Harry had arrived, and had expressed no plans to return until safely after his birthday. “Look you,” Uncle Vernon had warned him on the day they left, his sausage-like finger poking in Harry’s face, “I don’t want any trouble while we’re gone. No messes, none of your freakish friends visiting. Don’t touch anything.” Harry glanced around the living room. Aunt Petunia had covered every piece of furniture in plastic, even the lamps. “I’ve had the electricity shut off, so stay away from the appliances and especially the telly! Jenkins from my office will be stopping by from time to time to make sure you haven’t burned the place to the ground. He’ll be sure to call me if anything is awry, so watch it!” Harry rolled his eyes and nodded in agreement. “And just to make sure,” his uncle continued with a savage twinkle in his eye, “I’ve taken out some insurance.” He gestured toward a cardboard box on a nearby chair. Harry had assumed it contained the silverware or other things he was never meant to touch. Chuckling gleefully, Uncle Vernon opened the lid just wide enough for Harry to see past. Inside the box, he could make out a red and gold blanket, some papers, and what looked like a small book. Realization began to dawn. “That’s right,” Uncle Vernon said, seeing the understanding in Harry’s eyes. “That’s the blanket we found you in on that damnable evening when you were thrust into our lives. There’s also the note that came with it. Oh, and some old photos of your mum. Petunia never got around to burning them, though I kept reminding her.” Harry glanced toward his aunt. She met his eyes with an almost sorrowful expression and then quickly went on with her cleaning. ‘Probably sorry she never got around to it,’ Harry thought immediately, though somewhere deep inside a kinder voice chided him for his callousness. Before he could ponder the matter, though, Uncle Vernon coughed and continued his ranting. “When we get back, we will find this house in exactly the condition that we left it. No visitors, nothing missing, nothing broken, nothing out of place. Then, I’ll send you this box. To a proper address, mind you! I shall not deal with any bloody owls!” Uncle Vernon smashed his hand on the top of the box. “Leave an address when you leave, and make sure you lock the door on your way out.” He laughed happily, obviously almost as pleased, if not more so, than Harry himself at the thought of their parting ways. Silently sending thanks to Mrs. Weasley as he did each morning, Harry pulled the tab on a Bottleberry’s Busy Wizard Breakfast Box. Though she hadn’t quite grasped the notion of electricity, Mrs. Weasley had figured out that Harry had no way to prepare a warm meal for himself and had sent enough self-heating, self-serve meals to last him till his birthday. The meals couldn’t compare to Mrs. Weasley’s home-cooking, of course, but they were much better than Aunt Petunia’s typical fare. For approximately the 8,564th time, Harry wished he could have spent the whole summer at the Burrow. Remus had been quite insistent, however, that Dumbledore intended Harry to spend this last bit of time in the house on Privet Drive. Even Harry’s arguments that the absence of the Dursleys changed matters had fallen on deaf ears. “You may be right, but is it really worth the risk, Harry?” Lupin had asked him. Harry had been too honest with himself to answer the way he might have wished. And so, he looked forward to another day of his lonely exile, his friends too afraid to visit, lest they be caught by the dreaded Jenkins and cost Harry his mother’s last bequest. Harry got dressed quietly; Hedwig was still asleep after an active night hunting Muggle mice. ‘I wonder what’s going on in the Burrow today,’ he wondered idly. In his mind’s eye, he rose with Ron and stumbled down the stairs in the wake of Fred and George. He could smell the crisp bacon and lightly fried eggs. Mr. Weasley would be seated at the head of the table, a copy of the Daily Prophet in his hands. Fred and George would scramble around their busy mother, grabbing what they could right off the stove while he and Ron sleepily sat down at the table next to… Ginny. Harry looked at the clock, smiling ruefully. 9:12 am. Shaking his head with a melancholy sigh, he silently congratulated himself. He’d made it 12 minutes this day before remembering the gaping hole in his heart. It had all made so much sense at the time. Harry knew his fate, destined to face off with Voldemort once and for all to determine which of them would live and which would die. Neither could live while the other survived, after all. In each confrontation, Harry had faced his archenemy alone. Ironically, it had been Voldemort, the villain, the man who trusted no one, who knew nothing of love or friendship, who had been surrounded by allies during their battles: Quirrell, Pettigrew, various Death Eaters. When he imagined the final showdown, he saw Voldemort standing at the top of a dark set of stairs with Snape at his right hand, glaring down at Harry who stood surrounded by the remaining Death Eaters. Though he knew that Ron and Hermione would help him prepare and that the Order could help him find the other horcruxes, in the end, he was certain he would be alone. Given that, how could he have done anything else? He could not risk Ginny. Some dark nights, he dreamed of the battle with Voldemort, but instead of the way he typically envisioned it, this time Ginny lay strapped to a stone table while Voldemort held a long knife over her heart. If Voldemort ever found out how special she was to him… The thought of anything bad happening to her made his stomach churn and his heart clench. It hurt more now to think of it than it had back then at Dumbledore’s funeral. Strangely, his feelings for her had intensified since then. When they’d been together, he had been so swept up in the initial rush of it all, that he hadn’t had time to really think about much other than when he would see her next. Harry thought back to the walk they had taken after their first kiss. Neither had spoken a word until they had made it outside the building. Instead, they’d simply held each other’s hands, occasionally turning to smile happily at one another. Even in the gardens, they had not spent much time chatting. Ginny leaned back against the soft, cool grass, gazing at the starlight reflecting off the lake before them. Harry shiftted slightly to face her and looked down. Her beautiful auburn hair had spread out framing her face perfectly. For the first time in months, he could linger while staring at her without fear of someone noticing his interest. He wondered at her beauty, barely able to remember the child she had been when they had first met or the scared young girl he had saved from the basilisk. Yet, as he lost himself in her eyes, he saw those memories and every other they had shared, from that magical first day when she had run after his train car at King’s Cross Station. Before he could lean down to kiss her, however, she spoke the first words either of them had uttered since that kiss. “Took you long enough, Potter.” Ginny smiled playfully and reached up to run her hand through his hair. “I was starting to think I’d have to drop an anvil on your head.” “An anvil?” Harry replied with a coy grin. “Well, a pink one. With flowers and the words ‘Get on with it then’ carved into it.” “I’m not the one who was snogging in hallways all year long,” he pointed out archly. “No, that was Won-Won,” she giggled. “Why don’t we make up for lost time, then?” Gripping the back of his head firmly, she pulled him down to her. Some minutes later, Harry sat back up and sighed happily. “Thanks, by the way,” he said quietly. “For what?” “For not giving up on me completely. I’m sorry it took me so long to figure out how perfect you are.” Ginny did not reply, instead blushing deeply and dropping her eyes to the ground. After a moment, she once again reached up, stroking his cheek lightly. “It was worth the wait,” she said finally. Harry simply nodded and leaned down to kiss her once again. Reluctantly, Harry lifted his eyes from the worn photo in his hands. Neville had taken it for him about a week before the Cave and the Tower. It showed him and Ginny standing in front of the lake, not too far from where they had been that glorious night. They both smiled and waved happily, his arm around her back and hers reaching up to lay across his shoulder, occasionally fluffing his hair. He set it carefully back on the table by his bed. If there had been electricity, he could have lost himself in music or television. If he’d been allowed to do magic, he could have lost himself in training, practicing hexes and counterspells from sunup to sundown. Instead, he sat on the edge of his bed and alternated between his fears about Voldemort and his misery about Ginny. Just to mix things up, he occasionally felt guilty that he wasn’t spending enough time missing Ron and Hermione or mourning Dumbledore or Sirius. Mostly, though, he remembered how Ginny had made him feel and how much he missed her now. He thought about all the times that she had been there for him, to listen to his problems, to offer help. He smiled remembering how she’d been unafraid to stand up to him when he was angry, or to shake him out of bad moods. He recalled watching her fly through the air on her Quidditch broom, her long red hair streaming out behind her like a comet’s tail, her golden laugh ringing across the pitch. He had never known how much he needed someone, how much he needed her in his life until she was gone. Gone because of his own stupid, noble reasoning. Rising slowly from his bed, Harry cleaned up breakfast and debated whether or not to shower and change his clothes. In a decision he would eternally be grateful for, he decided to do so, despite the fact that the lack of electricity meant a painfully cold experience. Years of neglect from the Dursleys had trained him to wash his own clothes in the sink with cold water only, though he had briefly contemplated summoning Kreacher to do his laundry for him. The thought of the nasty, treacherous creature seeing him in his current state, however, was too much to bear. Some time later, he pulled on an old t-shirt and jeans, just in time for the doorbell to ring. Jenkins, most likely. The weeks of gloom had so far only been punctuated by the occasional visits from Jenkins. The foul little man reminded Harry of Mundungus. He implied that for some unspecified number of quid, he might be made to overlook certain improprieties. He had been genuinely disappointed to find that Harry had done nothing wrong and seemed to have no desire to do so. Fortunately, he didn’t come by often and didn’t stay long. Harry did not like the interruptions to his melancholia. Hoping this would be the last time he’d have to deal with the sour person, Harry strolled downstairs. When he reached the landing, he wondered why Jenkins hadn’t let himself in by now. Usually, he rang once or twice and then barged right in. The puzzled young wizard strode to the door, threw the bolt and opened it cautiously. All at once, the blood drained from his face and his breath came short. Finally, he gathered himself just enough to speak and slowly open the door wider. “Ginny?” He would never have believed it possible, but she looked even more beautiful than he'd remembered her. She stood framed in the doorway, a light rain falling down around her from a grey sky. He'd forgotten how much smaller she looked in Muggle clothes. A light jacket kept the rain off a charcoal-colored sweatshirt that hung loosely over her black jeans. Ginny met his stare with a wry smile before finally asking, “May I come in out of the rain at least?” Drops glistened on her hair like dew on fallen autumn leaves. Her dry tone and wet hair shook Harry out of his reverie. “Oh yeah, sure, come on in,” he said skittishly, glancing up and down the block. There was no sign of Jenkins, but Harry did see a strange car parked across the road. He thought he recognized the bushy hair of the driver. “Is that Hermione?” he asked incredulously. “Yeah,” Ginny replied in an uncharacteristically quiet tone. “She gave me a ride. She got her driving license this summer.” “Why doesn't she come in?” Ginny's smile didn't reach her eyes. “Two reasons, really. First, she's going to keep an eye out for the Muggle watchdog your Uncle left you. We really don't want to get you in trouble, Harry.” The nervous boy sighed with some relief. “The second reason is that I asked her to.” “Asked her to what,” Harry replied, still in a state of shock. He couldn't believe Ginny was here. On the one hand, it was like a dream come true. On the other, he had no idea what to say or do now. He'd missed her so much, but now that she was here, he recalled why he'd broken up with her in the first place. He also recalled the last time he had seen her and felt his pulse race even faster. Ginny's hollow laugh grabbed his attention back again. “I asked her... for a lot really,” Ginny said with a heavy sigh. “I asked her if I could come to her house and visit with her and her family. Thankfully, Mum didn't have a problem with that. I asked her to listen while I ranted and raved, even though it killed her not to offer advice on what to do. And then I asked her to bring me here. Finally, I asked her to wait outside, when I know she's dying to see you, to talk to you.” Ginny stared out the door, which Harry had forgotten to close. “She's a good friend, Harry, and a good person.” “Will she be all right out there?” Harry found that asking easy questions was helping hold off the hard ones. Ginny laughed again, with some feeling this time. “She brought some books to study. Depending on how things go, she might get to come in, too.” Harry felt a sudden foreboding. He closed the door and turned back to find Ginny shrugging off her jacket and slipping off her damp shoes. Harry felt his heart planted firmly in the top of his chest, beating rapidly. Just having her near was almost more than he could stand. Ginny looked up at him expectantly, but he could not trust himself to speak to her yet. “So, may I sit down?” she asked after the awkward pause, gesturing towards the plastic covered couch in the nearby sitting room. “Oh yeah, sure.” He followed her as she strolled into the room, noting how she examined everything with great interest. The walls were covered with photos of Dudley and the furniture was covered in plastic wrap. Harry felt suddenly ashamed. Ginny said nothing, however. She simply sat and waited quietly until he sat down himself. He stared at the floor between them, unable to find anything to say. His chest tightened and he pressed his arms close to his sides, as if trying to prevent himself from flying apart. When he finally gathered the courage to look up, he found her staring at him with a mixture of pity and enjoyment. Once again, Ginny took the lead. “I'd wondered what I'd do when I saw you next,” she said conversationally, as if they were discussing the weather. “Would I kiss you, would I slap you? Would I scream? Would I cry?” “I guess it's None of the Above,” he answered quickly, a small smile forming. The sound of her voice washing over him after so many weeks of solitude had filled him suddenly with joy. Her eyes, however, narrowed quickly and her cheeks flushed. “Don't you dare think you can pretend that nothing's happened, Harry James Potter. Don't you dare!” He quickly dropped his gaze to the ground again, tightening his grip on his sides. He dearly loved her fierce emotions, her inner fire, but not when it was directed at him like this. “Why did you do it?” she demanded. “Why?!” She jumped up from the couch and began pacing in front of him. Her tone forced his eyes to meet hers and he knew she'd not let him look away until she got a satisfactory answer. “I told you, Ginny. I didn't want to see you hurt.” She shook her head violently. A light mist sprayed his face as her hair tossed from one side to the other. “Not that, you great prat! That, I understood. It's stupid, it's condescending and don't think for one moment we aren't going to talk about it again, but that's bloody well not what I meant and you bloody well know it!” Harry had thought he'd be able to make it. For the entire fortnight, he'd succeeded. He'd spent the train ride from Hogwarts by himself. Normally, his friends would have been more concerned, but everyone had grieving to do. It had seemed like everyone had withdrawn a bit into themselves after the funeral. The train had been unnaturally quiet the entire trip. The trip back to the Burrow had passed in similar silence. Gradually, though, the pending wedding had given the Weasley's something on which to focus their energies and attention. Ron and Ginny each had roles to play during the ceremony, so their time had been taken up with fittings, rehearsals, and other such things. Harry had spent his time with Hermione for the most part. Six years of practice avoiding her questions and worried glances served Harry well and she quickly gave up on trying to get him to talk about either Dumbledore or Ginny. Instead, they talked about horcruxes and about R.A.B. A few days into their stay, Hermione had found some old books of Bill's on lost magics in a storeroom and had begun studying them looking for anything that might help. They would sit in the garden, ostensibly to stay out of the way, and pass the days when Ron was busy. Hermione would read, sometimes aloud, usually to herself. Harry would nap or watch the clouds go by, trying not think of anything. When Ron was free, he'd join them, sitting close to Hermione and reading over her shoulder until his boredom outweighed the pleasure of her proximity. Then, he and Harry would horse around, skipping stones in the pond or tossing a Quaffle about. Ron never asked about Ginny and never mentioned Dumbledore and Harry had never loved him more than he did for this. As for Ginny, Harry had barely seen her for more than a moment or two. He knew her well enough to know that this was not a coincidence. And so, the weeks had passed until the wedding day. He felt both relieved and depressed. The Dursleys had agreed, reluctantly, to pick him up at the Burrow. Harry figured they'd rather gather him on their own terms than risk having him fly into the neighborhood in broad daylight with a bunch of freaks. Today would be his last day with his friends before his annual exile to Little Whinging. It would also be his last day near Ginny. He thought it would be for the best. Having her so close, yet being unable to talk her because of his own decision, tore at his insides on a daily basis. When he'd broken up with her, it had gone as well as such a thing could go. She'd understood why he was doing it. She hadn't really seemed too surprised by it, actually. Of course, he hadn't thought about what would happen after that moment. Looking back, he should have known that there was no way they could go back to being 'just friends' and pretending nothing had happened between them. Every time he saw her, he ached to hold her again. The sun shone down gloriously through a cloudless azure sky. Bill and Fleur's families had outdone themselves with the decorations. Harry caught up with many members of the Order, sitting with Lupin and Tonks on the groom's side of the aisle and then chatting with anyone he could find during the reception that the Weasley's had arranged in their gardens. Evening fell slowly. Harry had never been to a wedding before, but even he could tell that this one was a bit more somber than most. Everyone smiled and seemed to be having a good time, but the music and dancing were a bit slower than one might have expected. No one drank too much and conversations were held in low tones. Harry sat at a table at the distant edge of the dance floor that had been laid down on the soft grass. The Dursleys would be here soon, so he found himself drinking in as much of the atmosphere of the Burrow as he could. Bill and Fleur had departed together for a honeymoon on the Mediterranean a short while before. Most of Fleur's family had left as well. Harry could see someone beginning to gather up some of the band's equipment. Still, they played on for the last few couples out there, a slow ballad that Harry had never heard before. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley danced in a stately, formal way. He noticed that Mrs. Weasley had finally stopped crying. Remus and Tonks danced together as well. He clearly sought to emulate the Weasley's, but Tonks had simply pressed herself against him, laid her head on his shoulder and begun to sway slowly back and forth. Ron and Hermione spun lightly in circles, also pressed close together, though not as close as Tonks was to Remus. Harry could see Hermione's lips moving ceaselessly. Her eyes shone brightly and her cheeks flushed pink as she chatted at Ron. When they spun around, Harry chuckled to himself. Ron had laid his head down on top of Hermione's and his eyes were closed. If he hadn't been moving his feet, Harry would have thought him asleep. He smiled dreamily and Harry doubted he had ever seen his best friend happier. Maybe it was the sight of his best friends letting themselves be happy together after so many years of fighting what had been obvious to everyone but them. Maybe it was the fact that he knew the Dursleys were on their way and that the good part of his summer was over. Maybe it was the music, or the soft glow of the fireflies in the warm summer night. Whatever the reason, he found himself standing up and moving around the now empty tables. He found her exactly where he knew she would be, where she had been all night. He'd known at every moment exactly where she was, though he'd not been aware of it until now. She sat alone at the end of the main table; the dim lights floating in the air made her hair smolder. He tried to ignore the streaks on her cheeks. He spoke never a word. He simply extended his hand to her and waited. As he'd known she would, she took it and let him draw her out to the dance floor. So lost was he in the moment, that he failed to see Mr. Weasley's gesture to the band or Hermione's excited poking at Ron. He saw nothing but Ginny. He even forgot that he didn't know how to dance. When they reached their destination, he laid his arms gently around her waist and drew her close. She closed her hands around his neck and laid her head on his chest. The smell of her hair intoxicated him as he rested his cheek on her auburn locks, still slightly crunchy from the spells used to hold it in place for the ceremony. The music went on forever. They barely moved, trembling as much as swaying. Just as their first kiss had, their first dance lasted for days and just for mere moments. Finally, all to soon, the band stopped playing. All around them, their friends and family watched in anxious silence as Harry and Ginny pulled slowly away from each other. Harry looked down into the starlight bouncing in her moist eyes. Unable to take his gaze from hers, he tilted his head gently and leaned down to place his lips against hers. As he did, he whispered the first words he had spoken to her since Dumbledore's funeral. “I love you, Ginny.” “BOY! GET OVER HERE!” Uncle Vernon's shouts roused everyone out the moment. Harry jumped back as if he'd been shot and fled towards his uncle's voice, desperate to get him out of there before he ruined the wedding. All eyes watched him go and then turned back to Ginny, alone on the dance floor. Her expression was unreadable as she strode inside and up to her room. Harry knew that the longer he waited, the worse it would be, but truthfully, he didn't know the answer. In fact, he'd actually blocked out that particular incident quite successfully over the last few weeks. His eyes remained locked with hers until she looked away and released him. He sensed her shift in mood even before her shaky voice gave her away. “Do you have any idea what it's like? Do you?” she asked quietly, turning away from him. “The first time wasn't so bad. Just a schoolgirl crush, right? That's what everyone told me. From that first moment I saw you standing there on the platform, before I had ever even heard of The-Boy-Who-Lived, I knew, or thought I knew. I just knew, Harry. And then, you saved my life and worse, even though you'd just come through all that horror in the Chamber, your first thought was to protect me, to spare me any embarrassment. You were my knight in shining armor, Harry.” She chuckled at the cliché. “Do you know how hard it was to accept that you'd never see me as anything other than a pesky little sister? To look past my dreams and learn to pretend that I'd gotten over you. To take all those feelings and bottle them up deep inside? But I did it, Harry. I didn't do it for you, though. I did it for me.” She glanced back at him fiercely and then turned away again. “I couldn't go on like that, worshiping the ground you walked on.” Harry simply stared at her back, her words spinning in his head. He tried to imagine what it had been like for her. He'd known, of course, about her crush on him, but he'd never known how deeply she felt. Memories rushed through his consciousness: memories of times in the Burrow when he and Ron had rushed past her without a word, off to do whatever; memories of times at Hogwarts when he, Ron, and Hermione had secluded themselves in a corner of the common room, not paying any mind to Ginny across the way. Ginny slowly came back and sat down across from him, smiling the same wry smile she had worn on the doorstep. The sight of that expression on her face tore at his heart. Ginny should never seem cold and withdrawn. It went against everything that made her, her. Yet, when he looked into her eyes, he saw none of her usual fire or passion, just a damp, cold sadness. Her shoulders shuddered in a silent, mirthless chuckle and she continued. “So, I did what Hermione suggested. She was right, as always. I got on with my life. I made new friends, got my grades up. Heck, I even went out for the Quidditch team.” She grinned proudly for a moment. “And the strangest thing happened. I started to feel good about myself. I stopped believing the things that Tom had said to me. I realized that I was smart, funny, maybe even a bit pretty. Sometimes. Even the nightmares...” Her eyes clouded over and she stared off into space. “They didn't come as often.” Shaking her head lightly, she went on. “And guess what happened? I finally figured out that you were a person, not just an idealized fantasy, but a real, honest, person. A handsome, witty, caring, wonderful person.” Harry could feel himself blushing. She must have noticed, because she laughed lightly and a bit of her spark came back into her eyes. “The second time was harder than the first. Now, I had all sorts of reasons to fall head-over-heels. I tried dating other guys, but deep down, I always knew my heart wasn't in it. I had it as bad as I ever had, but this time we actually spent time together, got to know each other. Then, we kissed, and it was like my whole life had finally come together. I felt complete and completely happy. And then Dumbledore died, and you dumped me.” “Ginny, I...” She didn't give him a chance to finish his thought. Holding up a hand, she snapped, “Damn it, Harry Potter. I've spent a month working on this speech, you can just sit there and hear it!” She slammed her hand down on the armrest of the couch and a surge of warmth spread across his whole body. He suddenly felt the full force of exactly how much he had been missing her. Fighting back tears, he nodded and shut his mouth apologetically. “We can talk about why you did that later, if there's any point,” she said quickly. “What you need to know is what it did to me. I turned it over and over in my mind. At least you had the decency to stay out of my way at the Burrow. I hated you for that, but it was probably for the best.” She paused, alarmed to see him wince in almost physical pain. Immediately, she understood. “Oh Harry, never 'hated' really. I could never hate you. I just...” Clearly flustered and off-script, she stopped talking and took some deep breaths. Harry sat in shocked silence, somewhat mollified. He realized that none of his experiences, none of the battles with Voldemort, nothing in his life had ever scared him more than the notion that Ginny could hate him. “Eventually, I guess my mind took the easy way out. You'd gotten swept up in all the lovey-dovey going on in the spring. You liked me well-enough, so we got together. Lots of fun, some good snogging, but when real life intruded, it was back to business, right?” Seeing the denials rippling behind his lips, she raised both hands and swiftly added, “I'm not saying that is what you thought, I 'm saying it's what I came up with to explain, to let me get on with my life, Harry. I was hurt, I was lonely, and I needed it to stop. I didn't want to ruin my brother's wedding, after all. So, I went kind of numb.” “Twice, I've convinced myself I was over you, Harry Potter. The first seemed hard at the time but then the second took everything I had. And then, you dropped the final straw on my back.” Her words came thickly as tears flowed freely down her face. Still, she made no move to wipe her eyes or look away from him. Sitting up proudly, raw emotion washing over her features, she finished saying her peace. “You took my hand, you drew me to you, you told me you loved me, and then you ran out of my life. And the thing is Harry, I believed you. I still believe you. I want to believe you. I...” At last, her voice betrayed her and she fell silent, sniffling gently. The full weight of her words settled down on his heart. He felt surrounded, drowned in her feelings, but also completely exposed. In the face of such blatant honesty, he could do nothing but respond in kind. Hermione saved the day for Harry, as she had so frequently in the past. The sound of her car honking outside destroyed the moment. Adrenaline rushed through Harry and his mind cleared as it always did in times of danger. Jumping up, he grabbed Ginny’s arm and pulled her from the sitting room. He cast his eyes anxiously about as he tried to think of where to hide her. Finally, his gaze set down on the latch on the wall beneath the staircase. Ginny’s eyes widened as he opened the door and ushered her into the dark, dusty chamber. “Is this where..” she began to ask. “Yes… the floor creaks so don’t move too much. I’ll get rid of him as soon as I can,” he whispered quickly. He had just closed the door when he heard a loud knock, followed by the sound of keys rustling in the lock. Just as Harry’s heartbeat started to slow to normal, he noticed Ginny’s jacket and shoes sitting on the floor at the foot of the stairs. He leapt forward and stood over them just as Jenkins opened the door and entered. “Hullo, Potter,” he croaked with a toothy grin. “I see you’re up and about.” Jenkins dragged a hand through his greasy, damp hair. “Spot of rain today,” he added, looking down in distaste at his moist fingers. He gave Harry a nasty smile as he wiped his hand on the wallpaper, leaving gray streaky stains across the floral pattern. “Better clean that up before Vernon gets back,” he cackled. Harry simply scowled. Ignoring Harry, Jenkins made a great show of examining the furniture and fixtures throughout the downstairs. When he moved into the kitchen, Harry quickly grabbed up the jacket and shoes. He dashed to the cupboard door and tossed them onto a startled Ginny before shutting it again. Jenkins returned finally to the hallway. Harry sat down on the stairs. He struggled to look normal, but inside his mind whirled. In the clarity of the moment, a fog had lifted. The answers he had known all along, but refused to seek or accept, sprung fully formed from the depths of his brain. How could he have been so stupid? “Are you listening to me, boy?” Jenkins snarled. Harry realized that he’d stopped paying attention. He felt a wave of impatience and annoyance rise over him. “Should I have been?” he snapped back. He just wanted this man to leave now, before he lost hold of what was in his head, before his feelings slipped back into the depths. “Watch yer mouth or I’ll make you sorry!” Jenkins growled. “I said that I’d be back in a couple days, unless you’re ready to make it worth my while not to come back.” Harry’s response made Jenkins’ jaw drop in amazement. He laughed. He laughed loudly and joyously. Everything finally made sense. He knew now, at last. He went and opened the door for his handler, still giggling gleefully. By the fearful expression on Jenkins’ face, Harry could tell that Vernon had told him stories of his crazed, criminal nephew. Jenkins backed out the door cautiously and then turned and fled down the path. Harry watched him go, smiling all the while. As Jenkins’ car pulled away, Harry strolled out to Hermione’s car. She rolled down her window, staring at his smile uncertainly. “I can never thank you enough, Hermione,” Harry said quickly. “Do you mind staying a little while longer out here? We have some things to finish up.” “Is everything all right, Harry?” she asked him with concern. “Where’s Ginny?” Harry leaned down to kiss her forehead in a tender, friendly way. “I think it is going to be all right, Hermione. I’d better get back in now, though. I’ve left Ginny in the cupboard!” He laughed again at her puzzled astonishment and darted back to the house. Walking down the hallway, Harry recalled the many lonely days and nights he’d spent under these stairs. He’d been much smaller than Ginny, of course, so she probably had it a bit worse right now. Still, he couldn’t help but think that it was good for both of them that she’d know at least a little of what it had been like. “Ginny, it’s ok, he’s gone,” he called out as he slid the latch and opened the cupboard door. He found her crouched down, shoes and jacket lying in her lap. The light filtering in from the hallway revealed a light coating of dust that must have fallen on her when he sat down on the stairs. He extended a hand and helped her up and out. He could feel the tenderness in his smile as he gazed down on her. Her eyes betrayed her confusion. “They made you sleep under there?” she asked him in a small voice. Harry nodded slowly, failing to release her hand. With a glance, he let her know that he did not want to discuss that just now. Instead, he drew her over to the stairway and sat her down a few steps up so that their eyes were level when he took a knee before her. She followed along with this but watched him warily the entire time. He had so much to say, but could hardly think of where to begin. Thankfully, she waited, letting him collect his thoughts into coherent words. After a deep breath, he finally spoke. “Here’s the thing, Ginny,” he began slowly. “There were a lot of things I didn’t know about when I first went to Hogwarts. I mean, not just about magic and wizards and all that.” He glanced up at a point in space over her shoulder, recalling what he had been like back then. “I had never had a friend, Gin. I didn’t know how to be a friend. I didn’t know what to say or what to do. What can you tell a friend? What should you not tell them? What do friends do together? I’d seen Dudley with his friends, but that didn’t seem like a good example.” He could see the moisture forming at the edges of her eyes as she considered his words and could feel it mirrored in his own eyes. “Ron, and then Hermione, they taught me about friendship and ever since, I’ve been blessed with the most wonderful group of friends anyone could ever ask for.” He cast a warm smile back towards the door and beyond: to Hermione, to Ron, and to all the rest of the people out there who cared for him. “That wasn’t all, though, Ginny. I’d never known what it was like to have parents, or any sort of adults care for me. Someone to take care of me if I was sick, to tell me that everything was going to be all right when things were tough. I never had anyone to teach me how to live my life like a good and proper person. Your mum and dad, they showed me that. Fred, George, everyone, they showed me what it meant to be part of something larger than myself, to be part of a family. I can’t ever tell them how much they have meant to me.” He smiled at her, thinking of times he’d sat at the Weasley kitchen table enjoying a home-cooked meal. He remembered Mrs. Weasley’s comforting hugs and Mr. Weasley’s way of patting him on the shoulder just so that he’d know he’d done something worthy of pride. If it took him the rest of his life, he would find a way to repay their kindness and their love. “The thing I realized today, though, Gin, is probably the most important thing.” He shifted down onto both knees before her and took her hands in his own. “Ron, Hermione, your family, Hagrid, Sirius, Dumbledore, everyone… they taught me what it is to be loved, but there was something else I had to learn. I had to learn how to love myself. I had to learn that I was worthy of being loved, not because of this,” he tapped his scar lightly, “or because of what I’m destined to do, but for me. They all tried, for a long time, but no one broke through. I never could bring myself to believe that I could be worth so much love, worth the sacrifices that have been made for me. Knowing that all these people loved me so much made feel guilty and small.” Before she could reply, he placed a finger tenderly on her lips and smiled fondly at her. “It’s my turn, now, so you have to let me finish my speech.” She blushed and grinned sheepishly at him, but did not speak. “It’s you, Ginevra Molly Weasley,” he said quietly, tears rolling silently down his cheeks. “You’ve shown me what no one else ever could. You’ve shown me my strengths, my weaknesses, everything. I look in your eyes and it’s like a mirror into my own soul. Listening to you today, I saw myself through your eyes and realized that I must be worthy of love. If someone as intelligent, wonderful, and good as you could love me, then there must be something there, right?” She nodded her head in awed silence. “All that time at the Burrow before the wedding, when I thought I was avoiding thinking about you, things were just sorting themselves out deep down,” he tried to explain. The words came more hesitantly as he realized that he was explaining it to himself as well as her just in the process of the telling. “That’s when I figured out the first important thing about you and I. I figured out that I loved you, Ginny. Once my heart realized that, it led me to your side and the words just came out.” “That wasn’t all, though. All the weeks here, I think I started to understand, even if I didn’t know it. Then, when you were there on the doorstep, looking so beautiful…” He paused, focusing once again on her and recalling a hundred memories of her: standing, sitting, flying, studying, laughing, crying. Bewildered, he reached out and gently brushed a stray lock of hair back behind her ear, murmuring, “So beautiful.” The blood rushed to her cheeks, but Ginny remained still, struggling not to sniffle too loudly as tears fell across her fair skin. A long moment later, Harry laid his hand back down on top of hers in his lap. He continued on as if he had never stopped speaking. “Today, when I listened to you, it all finally fell into place. Not just that I loved you, but that you loved me, too. You really and truly loved me. You, the person who knows me better than anyone, whom I can always talk to, who isn’t afraid of my moods, who doesn’t pity me or make me out to be more, or less, than I really am. You love me, and that makes everything all right.” Ginny stared at him, struggling to understand what he was saying. His calm gaze told her that he was done, for now. Words fled as soon as they popped up in her head and left her speechless. Finally, she hit on something…something that still lingered between them. At first, her voice faltered, but that passed quickly. “What about… what about what you said at the funeral, Harry?” Before he could reply, she remembered that she’d put this bit off earlier and recalled what she’d planned to say. “You know it just doesn’t work, right? Do you really think that Voldemort doesn’t know about you and I? You know I’m a Weasley, right? I think we’re all targets.” As she spoke, she felt the fire returning. How could he have been so stupid about this! “That’s not all, Potter! I mean, it wasn’t just you in the Ministry and in the Tower, you know! I gave those bastards better than I got and they bloody well better know that I can kick their arses when I have to.” Her eyes flared defiantly, challenging him to deny anything she had said. Standing up, Harry tugged tenderly on her hands and pulled her up off the stairs. His fond, loving smile had never left his lips. If anything, it radiated brighter than ever. Ginny marveled to see the love in his eyes, to see the true depth of his feelings for her. The walls had all come down and she knew that things between them had changed forever. “I know that now, Ginny. I used to think that I’d have to fight this alone, but now I realize just how wrong that is. I know that you’ll be with me, right by my side, and Ron, and Hermione, and anyone and everyone else that wants to help me. If anything happens, it will happen to us together, because I know that we’ll always be together.” Ginny’s expression softened, but her passion did not dim. She had a sudden vision, as clear as day, of the two of them, hand-in-hand, surrounded by their friends and bathed in a soft golden glow, ready to face anything and everything the world had to throw at them. She smiled shyly and brought the back of one hand up to rest against his moist cheek. “I love you, Ginny,” Harry said, just as he had the first time they danced. “And I love you, Harry Potter,” Ginny replied, realizing that this was the first time she’d ever said that to him directly. Slowly, they leaned forward, heads tilting and lips coming together in a soft and perfect kiss. Suddenly, each felt a physical charge jolt through them. Their eyes flew open and they saw themselves surrounded by a warm, pink light. It flowed out from all around them, from the walls, the floor, the stairs, the door, everywhere. Harry and Ginny felt the energy gather around them as they stood in a tight embrace. Instinctively, they both knew that this was no threat, but a very important and good thing. The field swirled around them and seeped into them until finally it vanished. Their eyes shone brightly and they struggled to catch their breath. Before they could comment on what had occurred, the door flew open and Hermione dashed inside, wand drawn. “Something’s happened, I could feel it outside. Are you both all right?” she asked in a mild panic. Ginny simply stared up at Harry in amazement. She could feel him. Deep inside, she could feel him as if he were a part of her. She imagined she could actually see a thin, red cord connecting them and she knew that no matter how far apart they ever might be, they would always be bound together. “We’re fine, Hermione,” Harry replied with wonder in his voice. “Better than fine.” He smiled down at her with a pure, unadulterated joy that Hermione had never seen in him before. “Do you think you could do us one more favor, though?” “Of course, Harry, anything,” Hermione said, desperately struggling to figure out what exactly was going on. “Can you give us a ride to the Burrow? I just need to dash upstairs and pack my stuff up.” Hermione shot him a startled look, but Ginny smiled slowly as understanding dawned. “But Harry, it’s still two days till your birthday. You know you need to stay at home until then to keep your mother’s protection,” Hermione said, putting her wand away at last. Harry glanced at Ginny and, seeing her knowing nod, dashed upstairs to pack. She understood and she could explain it to Hermione. Meanwhile, he did not want to waste one more moment than necessary in Privet Drive. Hermione watched Harry go and looked at Ginny in utter confusion. Ginny smiled, wondering how much Ron would pay for a picture of Hermione looking so completely and utterly befuddled. “Harry’s mom’s spell protects him as long as he stays at home, Hermione,” she explained as the sheer miracle of it all swept over her. “But this is his home, or the closest thing to it anyway.” “Not anymore,” Ginny replied dreamily. She cast a blissful gaze up the stairs, laying a hand across her chest. “His home is here, now. With me.” --------------- A/N: Wow, my first HP fanfic! Thank you for reading it. Please review if you have time. Authors (at least me) can never ever get enough feedback. A couple of points: the alarm clock is battery powered and the doorbell is a bell on a pull string. :) (I realized on the 7th read-through that the electricity cut-off was an issue.) Second, I plagiarized myself a little bit as I used the notion of “home is where the heart is” in a different (Sailor Moon) story. I guess that notion is also stolen from a Billy Joel song as well. I'm not sure about the ending. It seems a bit abrupt, but I think it works. If you have suggestions, I'd love to hear them. In any case thanks again for reading!!! :) |
| Reviews 25 |
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