Story: A Vision in White

Setting: DH - Moving from place to place in the tent, Harry and Hermione miserably tried to continue their mission without Ron, whom had stormed off weeks before. Harry privately reflects on what has happened to his friend, and one other Weasley in particular.

Author: Eisette

Genre: Angst/Romance - angst that is resolved with fluff!


"I'll wake you in 5 hours or so." Hermione said, putting the chain around her neck gingerly. She fingered the locket with a mixture of repulsion and exasperation on her face, before tucking it beneath her jumper.

"Right," Harry said, nodding, "Good night then."

That was all that was said - in the last few weeks since Ron's angry exit, their usually friendly banter had dwindled to strained conversation as the friends struggled to continue a mission that seemed unending. Harry knew Hermione had been particularly affected by Ron's exit - even know, as Hermione took the jar filled with her special blue flames and plunged the tent into darkness, Harry could hear her sniffing thickly. He rolled over in the bed, trying to get comfortably on the thin mattress. In exasperation, more to vent his feelings than to help with the thickness of it, he punched his pillow angrily before settling on it. Harry could not talk to Hermione about his own feelings of anger and abandonment at Ron's disappearance, and here in a window, abandoned field, who could he talk to? On this mission, he now had only Hermione. He loved her as a sister, but nothing could make up for the gaping absence of Ron's friendship.

Closing his eyes to the darkness, Harry imagined for the thousandth time where Ron must be. Surely he wouldn't have returned to Hogwarts, not with such a bounty on his head; They'd spotted Christmas trees in muggle houses, so Harry was pretty sure he would be at The Burrow, probably getting ready to celebrate the holiday with Ginny, the Twins, maybe Charlie too - perhaps even Bill and Fleur would take time out of their first Christmas together to visit the Weasleys. Was Ron happy to be in a warm house and eating whole meals again? Did he even regret his decision?

The part of his mind that was still reeling with hurt told Harry that he didn't, and that though did nothing to brighten Harry's mood. Still unable to reach sleep, he could almost picture it - the Weasleys grouped around their small kitchen table, maybe eating a huge Christmas turkey that, if living up to Mrs Weasley's usual standard of cooking, would taste delicious. In his minds eye, Ron leaned across the table, his face jovial as he held out a Christmas cracker to Ginny, who looked…

At that point, Harry couldn't bear to imagine his ex-girlfriends expression. As deep as his hurt was at Ron's actions, it was rivalled by his longing to see Ginny, to hear her laugh again, to touch her…

Would she be mad at Ron? Would they have argued? Harry could see her face, her blazing expression, as she furiously rounded on her brother. His heart ached at the memory of the strength he so admired in her. Another image sprang, unbidden, to his mind; Ginny again, with the same blazing intensity in her eyes, but for a different reason. He was in her room on his birthday, and the redhead was giving him the gift of a kiss. That moment had been nearly perfect in his mind - and so far from his current position, he couldn't even imagine his future with her.

If, perhaps, he was not Harry Potter, or was unblemished by a scar, maybe he could picture it. For a golden moment, a thought he'd had before played behind his eyelids, of Ginny walking up the aisle to a faceless man who stood at the altar. His imagination filled in the blanks, and in his mind's eye, Ginny looked so beautiful, a vision in white. Maybe she would go on to have kids with the faceless stranger, a whole future in which she was happy and healthy - but as much as he yearned for it, Harry couldn't quite picture himself as the man standing next to that shining vision. When he tried, he was filled with a longing so strong it physically hurt, and when he tried to foresee his own future, every path was blocked by the heavy, horrible presence of Voldemort. Harry's own future depended entirely on the outcome of his current mission, and with a dull blow, the importance of finding the Horcruxes was reinforced. He would not let himself rest (even though he currently had no idea of how to get to them right then) until he had found the fragments of Voldemort's soul - for himself, for Ginny, for the whole wizarding world.

~HG~

With a painful yearning still tugging at his chest, the Chosen One fell asleep. The next day he woke up with the same ache, and the subsequent day, and the day after that. In fact, though he could ignore it and push it aside, Harry would not fully eradicate the feeling until some months later, when he would fight Lord Voldemort, and somehow would win. The feeling would dissipate the next morning, with the sun rising above the horizon, when he would slip quietly up to the Gryffindor common room, feeling exhausted by his effort and victory, and would be met in the deserted room by someone else - a certain some who had slipped away from her mother's side after she'd seen Ron and Hermione leave.

Without words, Ginevra Weasley would run towards Harry Potter, and throw her arms around him. She would bury her face in his chest, and he would wrap his arms around her shoulders and hold her close, and they would stand together in silence, just thankful that they could. When she lifted her face, he would once again see the familiar blazing expression on her face, and they would kiss with the fervour of survivors.

They would both fall asleep fully clothed curled up on Harry's four-poster bed, exhaustion having delayed any further conversation or expressions of love. When Harry awoke the next day, the ache in his chest would have completely vanished. Just over a year later, Ginny would be looking resplendent, a vision in white as she walked up the aisle to Harry Potter, and together they would have a happy, healthy future.