With a Kiss

By AnnaBrea

DISCLAIMER:  I own nothing… What I wouldn't give to own Harry Potter….

A/N:  This is my first and probably last HP fanfic.  Hope you guys will have lots of fun reading it as I had tons of fun while writing it.  Please review.  I'm a newbie, so take kindness upon my quill.  Constructive criticism will be greatly appreciated. 

It's been five years.  Five long years since I graduated from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Funny, they should have called it the Hogwarts School of the Boy Who Lived.  Everything revolved around him, you know?  From the classes, the extra-curricular activities he and my brother and my brother's girlfriend got themselves into, the quidditch games, the newspaper write-ups, everything.  Come to think of it, a big part of my life – a very big part – revolved around him.  

I guess that's one of the reasons why a lot of people expected me to hold a torch for Harry Potter all throughout my years in Hogwarts.  To have me nurse that silly little crush during my seven year stay at school and even afterwards.  I think I may have surprised them lot when word got out that I have a boyfriend.  Bloody Michael Corner.  Somehow, I think I surprised Harry as well.  Perhaps he's part of the "lot".  Hell, I'm part of that lot too.

I may have surprised them all when I had dated two more boys after Michael Corner.  But I surprised myself, most of all, when I came to the realization that I never loved any of those wizards I called a "boyfriend." I realized I didn't want a boyfriend… I wanted a boy, yes… but I wanted the Boy-who-lived.  Don't get me wrong, I don't want him for his fame, or for the luxury he could give me because we all know he defines "wealthy" in a whole new different light.  Gone was that adoration for a popular icon, gone was that feeling they all termed as "hero-worship", the school-girl crush.   They all went away when I first admitted that I've given up.  Only to be replaced by the one thing I feared most but knew I couldn't escape (and no, it's not Voldemort):  I fell in love with Harry Potter.  And I mean it not in the shallow, over-used, almost meaningless "fall in love" concept.  I mean, I really do love him.  All these years.  And I'm sitting here, alone, drinking my second mug of butterbeer while waiting for him, for Harry Potter – the only wizard whom "I fell in love" with.  How will I greet him when he and I finally meet again after two years?

As I take a sip from my mug (I'm not even thirsty), I look outside the window of the Three Broomsticks.  There was post near the sidewalk, still very visible from where I was seated.  The carvings on the post are still clear even if they were first put there six years ago – in 1998. I was in my sixth year, Harry was in his seventh. I smile a little, disbelieving that the marks on the post were as clear as the background story that was carved in my brain.

He stood in front of me, the back of his right forearm leaning on the post, his entire body leaning in the same direction.  His eyes, however, were not leaned towards the dratted post, but to me.

"One would think that as Head Girl, Hermione would have at least some decency not to stand us up  just for some snog session with Ron," he said, amused.  With his left hand, he used the pointed tip of this muggle keychain to draw lines on the post. 

"And it's not as if they haven't just been to one!  Is that all that they do these days?" I asked him.

He gave me a hearty laugh before answering, "Apparently.  I reckon it's some sort of an extended celebration for getting rid of Voldemort and his cronies."  He was still drawing some kind of figures on the post.

"Yeah well, some people just have  all the luck, don't they?" I told him, with much disappointment in my voice.  His brows met in confusion.

"What do you mean?  Is something wrong between you and Patrick?  Not enough snog sessions, perhaps?" he joked.  I forced a smile, but deep inside I was a little hurt.  Is that what he thought I was doing with Patrick? Snog? Shit, I can't even kiss him lightly on the lips without saying a small prayer that I won't be seeing Harry's face when I close my eyes.

"No," I said, looking him in the eye.  "There aren't even snog sessions at all."

Harry's face contorted in what is to be a mixture of disappointment and relief.  Too much wishful thinking perhaps, but I had this feeling that he was disappointed that I myself am disappointed that there were no songfests with my boyfriend Patrick.  And relief, well, relief that I'm no Cho Chang. 

"So, er, is that a problem?" he asked, obviously uncomfortable with the conversation.

"Harry! You git!" I exclaimed, surprising him a bit.  "That's not the problem.  What's with you and snogs, anyway?"

He gave me this shy smile which made me all the more feel guilty about having a boyfriend and still liking Mr. Potter this much. 

"Perhaps it's because I haven't – I mean--- never mind."  We both blushed at the statement which he, fortunately, cut short.

Much as I would want to further appease myself with the knowledge that no girl has had the privilege to kiss those gorgeous lips, I decided to change the subject.

"Well, anyway… I think Patrick's just waiting for me to break up with him,"  I told him, my head bowed.  Truth be told, never in my wildest dreams did I imagine to spill the latest news bits about my lovelife to Harry Potter.  Yes, we've grown to be close friends over the years, but hey, this is Harry – the guy I whom I want to be in the story, and not the guy I should be telling the story to.  I couldn't bring my eyes to look at him, so I spoke in a low tone, still looking down, "It's just that I think he wants more than I could ever give him, but he's too nice to say that to my face, let alone use that as a reason to break up with me.  So to be the nice guy, he's waiting for me to break up with him instead, make it all easier."

Suddenly, I felt his finger on my chin – lifting it so that my eyes were forced to look into his.

"Hey," he said, "No guy should ever ask for more than you can give him."

Well, you can, I thought.  I'd give Harry Potter everything.

And then he told me something which I shall never forget, something which made me break up with Patrick two hours later.

"Having you is more than enough already.  What's left to ask for?"

if not for Hermione's "GINNY!!!!!", I would have kissed Harry Potter right then and there.  Patrick, Hogsmeade on-lookers, and everyone else be damned.  But my brother's girlfriend shrieked loud enough to break all the plates and glasses in London, so it was loud enough to break our eye contact and snap us out of –was it a love trance? The time-stopped, earth-moved scenario? Whatever it was.  We both just smiled and decided to welcome Hermione and Ron who were oblivious to what they just interrupted.

Harry and I never spoke of that incident by the post.   I wanted to smack Hermione in the head for ruining such a moment. It was only during the next Hogsmeade weekend that I was able to check what Harry carved in the post.  It was "G.W."

As I've said, I broke up with Patrick the first opportunity I got to speak with him.  Not that I felt guilty for wanting to kiss Harry even if I'm still technically "Patrick's girlfriend,"  but because I knew in my heart that there was no point in continuing a relationship which is not even a relationship.  Yes, we dated – went to Hogsmeade trips together, ate dinner together, talked in the common room late at night… I cared about him, but I was never in love with him.  And I think, much as I hate to admit it, he was never in love with me either.  We were… just friends.  Patrick and I both knew that.  I guess that's why it was a good break-up.  No tears, no heartaches.  Just a smile and a promise of friendship.

"Hey, Ginny!"

I snap out of my reverie.  I looked up to see who it was who greeted me.  It was Luna Longbottom.

"Luna!" I greet her, rising from my seat and giving her a warm hug.  I see Luna and her husband, Neville, at least once a month.  They often come by to visit Headmaster Dumbledore at Hogwarts.  And of course, being the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher there, I always get invited to the dinner Prof. Dumbledore holds each time the Longbottoms are there. 

"Fancy seeing you here! Are you waiting for someone?"  She asks me, her face glowing.  Perhaps it's the pregnancy.  She and Neville are eagerly awaiting their firstborn.

"Actually, yes.  An old friend.  He was supposed to be here ten minutes ago."

"Oh, well.  Don't worry, he'll be here.  I just came from the Ministry and Neville told me that some of the Aurors got held up at the Baggage Enchantment and Customs Department – some had too much excess luggage," she explains, smiling from ear to ear.

I wanted to ask her how she found out I was meeting an Auror, but knowing Luna… let's just say I knew better than to ask her.  I'll end up explaining why I'm meeting Harry and so on and so forth.

"Oh," seemed to be the most logical answer to give her.  She bade goodbye after that.  She said she had to meet up with Hermione Weasley, London's finest Healer.  Yes, she's made quite a career out of the wizarding medics.  Apparently, after the countless healing charms she's learned during the war, the medical practice of the wizarding world has made a huge impact on her.

I look out of the window.  The passers-by had smiles on their faces, all thanks to Harry Potter.  When Voldemort was finally defeated in Harry's seventh year, Hogsmeade weekends were pure fun, a hundred percent safe, and definitely enjoyable.  Still, I wonder.  How will I greet him when he and I finally meet again after two years?

A lot of people tell me that I'm either half-dense, half-insecure, or just plain blind.  Why can't you see that Harry's in love with you?, they ask me.  Well, just try putting yourselves in my shoes.  I've crushed on the boy for thirteen long years, loved him for the next ten… it's not really a walk in the park to just accept that he's in love with you – especially when you've never went out with him for a single date.  There has never been one formal, official date with Harry Potter.  All there was is this Christmas break meet-up that I had with him in 2000.  And even then, it wasn't a date-date.  It was just a "I'll be in town next week, wanna meet up with me in Hogsmeade?" kind of date.

So there I was, shivering from the cold and standing alone outside Honeydukes.  I'm too excited to see Harry again, I'm ten minutes early.  I keep looking around for signs of a 6-foot tall hunk with messy black hair.  There were none.

However, all of a sudden I saw this cutest little dog waddling its way towards were I'm standing.  Being the animal lover that I was, I immediately bent down to take the dog in my arms.

"You poor thing, where's your owner, hmmm?" I kept cooing to the dog, grateful that I'd at least have someone to keep me company while I'm waiting for Harry.  But then, I noticed that a note was tied to the dog's leash.  I opened the piece of paper and read the note:

-- Please take me home.  I'm Harry Potter's Christmas gift for you. He said he'd be really hurt if you say no. ---

I think I smiled the widest after reading that note.  And when I looked up, there he was.  Right in front of me.  Can you say "just like magic?"

That's just how it went for Harry and me.  Full of subtle hints and fluffy moments.  But there was never any commitment, neither were there any admission of feelings, much less professions of undying love.

I keep hoping that I'll be seeing this 23 yearold Auror I've been waiting for.  I knew that Harry would never dream of standing me up, but for some reason, I still have that fear.  Maybe it's an insecurity, it's truly difficult for me to accept that Harry cares about me.  If he says he'll meet up with me at the Three Broomsticks, he'll be there.  He won't cancel at the last minute, no, he won't do that.  He leaves such an option to the swarm of witches who keep on asking him out on dates he never could make time for.  But for me, for Ginny Weasley? Well, here's the thing… my brother sort of mentioned Harry in one of our conversations, and he wanted me to realize just how busy Harry is.  But when Ron told me something that Harry has apparently said once, I had some difficulty grasping what "busy" meant.  According to Ron, Harry has said that: "These days, I don't have time for anything anymore.  Well, except for Ginny."

And so, right now… right this very moment, Harry Potter has a chance to prove what he has just said.  This is the first time we're ever going to meet again, alone. How will I greet him when he and I finally meet again after two years?  The second to the last time I saw him was in 2001, at Matthew's first birthday party.  Matthew is Ron and Hermione's eldest, and he's also my favorite nephew.

"Hey, you're here!" I told him, still feeling a bit uneasy – having to stare at Harry's gorgeous form while I was dressed in a red and yellow polka dot apron and a matching hat.

"So are you," he said, smiling.  Goodness, he looked good in that white cotton shirt.  He was wearing faded blue denim jeans and some sort of muggle-branded sneakers.  He looked absolutely – hot.

It was getting very strenuous to think, so I just flashed him a smile – and a nervous one at that.  Thank Merlin he decided to lead our little conversation.

"How's Hogwarts doing?"

"Oh, fine.  Just as great as the last time you came by to visit – which was, lemme see, two nights ago!"

He laughed.  Whenever he did get some time off from his auror training, he made sure to visit Hogwarts as often as possible.

"Can't help it.  I miss Hogwarts."

"Hogwarts misses you too."

"Just Hogwarts?"

"And Professor Dumbledore."

"No redheaded beauties missing me at all?"

"Well, Kelly once told me she misses having you watch her games," I told him.  Kelly is the Gryffindor Quidditch Team Seeker.  She had the pleasure of meeting Harry during one of the Quidditch Final games last year, she's a red-head as well.

"No redheaded, beautiful, and smart professors missing me then?"

"None," I said to him with a smile.  He pretended to be hurt and that got him a laugh out of me.

"But," I said, making him look up into my eyes, "There is one redheaded, beautiful, smart, and incredibly sexy professor in Hogwarts who misses you."

His eyes widened as his smile grew.  "Oh really?! Dumbledore didn't tell me he hired a new professor! What's her name?"

Unfortunately, being the skilled auror that he was, he easily ducked from the chef's hat I threw at him.

Laughing, he stood up from where he was seated and walked over to where I was.  He was standing dangerously close and I began to wonder – even hope – that he'll give me a quick peck on the cheek as an apology.  But he didn't.  instead, he leaned to whisper in my ear: "Tell that redheaded, beautiful, smart, and incredibly sexy professor I miss her like crazy."

Miss me like crazy, huh? Well, he's fifteen minutes late already.  If he really is capable of missing me like crazy (was that Gilderoy Lockheart crazy or lovers-crazy-in-love crazy?!), then he should be here in about.. er, a second.

News flash, Mr. Potter, I miss you more.  I'm here, waiting for the Boy-Who-Lived and torturing myself for an answer to the question: How will I greet him when he and I finally meet again after two years?

Hermione told me once  that Harry and I have a mutual understanding.  I love him, he loves me – but we don't find it necessary to say it to each other's faces.  Is that how it really is?  Because I want more.  I want "I love yous" and kisses and hugs and dates and everything.  Or if I can't have any of those, I just want Harry.  With me, safe and happy.  Again, being the intelligent witch that she is, Hermione has told me that I've had way too many chances to get what I wanted.  "Why don't you make the first move?" she asks me.

It's not easy.  There were Rachels and Helens and Jennifers who tagged along with Harry during Christmas dinners at the Burrow in the last five years.  If Harry brought them along just to make me jealous, well, he certainly achieved his goal.  Passed with flying firebolt colors!  I only had one date for one Christmas dinner in a span of five years: Timothy.  I'd say everyone liked him, he's sweet, smart, gentle, funny, and absolutely handsome.  He's everything I ever wanted in a guy save for one thing: he's not Harry Potter.  But it took one big fight between Harry and me before I officially broke up with the bloke.

"Hello there, Miss Chamber!"  I hear Madam Rosmerta's exuberant greeting for a customer who has just come in.  The witch wore elegant blue robes.  Could this be Miranda Chamber? She pulled down the hood, revealing her curly blonde hair.  No, it's not Miranda "Perfect" Chamber after all.

I took another sip from my mug.  Now, there's another story intertwined with Timothy's tale.  Miss Chamber,  whose middle name happens to be "Perfect." I met her in 2002, when Harry brought her as his date to the annual Christmas dinner.  It was the same year that I had Timothy as a date. I've asked a zillion questions, all of which falling under the jealous-witch category.  What did Harry see in her? What did she have that I don't? So what if she's  got a face that's landed her in Witch Weekly's 10 Most Beautiful?  And it's not like I care that she speaks 10 different languages and that she's excellent in History of Magic (Who gives a damn about that subject anyway?).  She's a brunette, for Merlin's sake!   Fortunately or unfortunately, I had the confidence to somehow open this topic and eventually start a fight with Harry.  It was our first big fight. Come to think of it, we didn't actually have the pre-ordained right to fight like lovers do.  We're not lovers, not even close.. okay, so maybe we're close to it..

"What's up with you?" Harry asked me.  I was outside the Burrow, holding a glass of wine and looking up with at the sky.  I think he knew that something was bothering – annoying me, even.  "You left Timmy inside, and now I think Fred and George are trying their latest invention on him," he continued.

"It's Timothy, not Timmy!" I snapped at him.

"Fine.  Timothy.  Whatever.  What's wrong, Ginny?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?"

"well, first, you barely ate.  Second, you hardly spoke a word to anyone, and thirdly, you just walked out of the traditional post-dinner chat.  And you're usually the topic starter."

"Oh, wow! I didn't know you had an observant gene in you, Potter."

My sudden use of his last name and the insult I just threw at him caused him to raise an eyebrow.  "What's your problem, Ginny?" 

"None that concerns you."

"No matter how illogical this may sound, If you have a problem, then that concerns me."

"Sod off, Harry!"

"Ginny!"

"What?!"

"What is the matter with you?  Has something happened with---"

"Why don't you just shut up and go back to Little Miss Perfect."

"That's it, you've had too much to drink---"

"So now you think I'm drunk?"

"What the bloody hell am I supposed to think? I came out here to see if you're alright ---"

"I'm fine! Go back to your bloody girlfriend!"

"Ginny! Is that what this is about? You never bothered about me bringing someone before.  Hell, you even brought along Timmy."

"It's Timothy!!! And, yes.. you're right! I never bothered – because none of them has ever reminded me of my little escapade down the Chamber of Secrets!"

"So you're raging mad just because Miranda's last name reminded you of that incident?!"

I wanted to throw the glass at his face.  "Is that how you think of me, Harry?  You think I'm that shallow?"

"Dammit ,Ginny! If you would only tell me what's really going on, things would definitely be easier!"

I gave him a sarcastic laugh, the best sarcastic laugh I could manage. "Oh sure, Mr. Potter.  Let me uncomplicated things for you.  Your girlfriend, Miss Perfect, came up to me before dinner and said 'Hi, I'm Miranda Chamber. As in the Chamber of Secrets, you've been there right?"

I saw Harry's expression soften, his mouth opened as if to say something, but no words came out.  Tears were threatening to fall from my eyes.  "How Harry? How could you tell her that?  You suddenly had to tell your bloody girlfriend stories about your friends?  Not to mention, the most tragic stories?"

"Ginny, it's not like that.  It's nothing like that."

"Then, how did she find out?!  She's not even a graduate of Hogwarts!"  I did throw the glass, but not at his face.  The glass didn't shatter, but it rolled along the grassy plain.

"She's Colin Creevey's cousin, alright? It was Colin who told her about his, his—experience.  And he mentioned that you were taken down the chamber, only that he's not sure. She's been asking me about it because she wants to write an adventure book based on it, but I wouldn't talk to her about it.   Miranda said that just to see your reaction, to prove if what Colin said was true."

"How very sensible of her to do so.  How considerate, genuinely kindhearted to remind her boyfriend's friend of such an, an experience, as you put it."

"Look, I'm sorry.  I really am."

"If that's how you say sorry, Harry, no wonder you end up with coldhearted witches."

When I started to walk towards the burrow, he moved to stand in front of me.

"Get out of my way, Harry."

"I am sorry," he said, looking intently into my eyes.  "I never meant for her to hurt you like that.  I thought she was over the whole 'The Chamber' by Chamber idea.  I really am sorry, Ginny.  Please…"

"Please what, Harry?  Forgive you for bringing along a girl who had the tendency to blabber about my horrid past  to a family dinner?"

He closed his eyes in defeat, his face visible with pain.

"Forgive me, for everything."

"Just forget about it," I told him, moving past him.  He caught my arm and held tightly, almost painfully.

"Are we okay? Are we friends?"

I stared at him, coldly.  "Considering that it's seems as though it's all we're ever going to be, then yes."

I was expecting him to let me go after that, not just my arm – but me, my whole self.  End the crazy dance we've been twirling around in.  We've been in this state where we call each other friends, but deep inside we knew there was so much more.  There were no kissing of lips, but there were kissing of minds.  We never held each other's hand when we talked, but we held each other's gazes.  We hugged as friends, but our souls embraced with a promise of something else, something more. 

However, Harry had other plans.  He kept his grip on my arm and forced me to look at him.  "We both know what you mean so I won't waste time reveling in my insecurities and ask you to say it out loud for me."

I swallowed, hard.  I never expected for the conversation to turn this way.  I knew I unleashed some sort of Cornish-pixie topic, but I thought Harry would say the perfect "peskipiksi pesternomi."  But he didn't, oh no, he didn't. 

"You and I both know that we're not in love with our dates," he said.  My eyes widened at that.  "I'm standing here, in front of you, and I can't even remember what made me date Miranda in the first place.  Hell, I can't even remember why I dated anyone but you.  But I'm here, Ginny, and I only know one thing."

"What's that?" I asked with a shaking voice.

"I want to be with you.  I always have," he said, his voice almost only a whisper.

"Then why didn't you say anything before?"

He released my arm, and instead put his hands on his hips.  He looked up at the black velvety sky, "Because I didn't know if I had a chance, if you felt the same way.  And back then, I was too scared to risk our  friendship.  I was a coward.  Bloody Gryffindor, I was."  He gave this small shaky laugh which made me look down at my suddenly interesting shoes. 

"But right now, " he continued, "I want to bolster the Sorting Hat's decision."

I smiled at that.

"Just say the word, Ginny, and I'll leave everything for you."  I closed my eyes.  As much as it feels so good to hear him say those words, my heart still broke at the thought that I'm taking Harry away from his dreams.  He had a contract with the Ministry for a two-year mission. He's even going to be deployed in different continents all throughout the training, it would be great opportunity for him, actually.  I couldn't do that to him.  I cant just tell him to stay and throw away almost three years of training (not to mention spend loads of galleons to pay for the contract).

I wanted to tell him a lot of things.  I wanted to tell him that he was such a bloody idiot for not acting on his feelings years ago.  I wanted to tell him to break up with Miss Perfect first then come back to me for a kiss.  But in the end, I told him this:  "I'll wait for you, Harry."

"What?" he asked, confused.

"You go into that mission of yours and when you come back to me, after two years, well, I'll just.. I'll be here.  I'm yours."

For a brief moment, I saw him smile.  Then he pulled me close and kissed me with all his heart.  I, of course, returned the favor.

Needless to say, Harry and I broke up with our insignificant others.  A promise of life bound us to each other.  We communicated through owls, we even tried muggle means at one point – like the telephone and that eletnoric mail they have at the intermeet? Or was it internet? Anyway, we talked through floo occasionally, but that was the closest thing I could get to seeing his face.  In two long years, he hasn't been granted any vacations back home at all.  It killed me, not being able to at least hold his hand when his job gets too tough.  My only consolation is knowing that it kills him not being able to hold my hand when times are rough for him.

The chimes sound and I hear the doors to the Three Broomsticks swing open. Unlike what I've done seventeen times before in the last twenty minutes, I did not look up.  I have this feeling that the one I'm waiting for  has finally arrived.  And he's about to fulfill the promise we both made.

I feel him walking towards my table, and he takes me by surprise when he sits not in front of me but beside me.

I search my brain for something sweet and at the same time witty to say to him, in greeting.  Unfortunately, my brain is uncooperative and my heart is just too preoccupied with beating loudly as it feels its owner close by.

I look up to see  his handsome face.  If it's possible, he looked two years younger.  I've never seen anything more gorgeous.  He gives me a smile.  Great, I thought.  He just made all the thinking process more difficult.

I smile back, and I realize he's been holding my hand ever since he sat beside me.

This is it, I thought, time for your magical greeting.  You're a witch  aren't you, Ginny?

While staring deeply into each other's eyes, I open my mouth to say something – anything… but what?

How will I greet him when he and I finally meet again after two years?

Harry answers the question for me as he leans down to place his lips upon mine.

With a kiss.

-- The End --

A/N:  This one's for the PHP Head Librarian and the Not So Charmed Ones.  You brus know who you are.  Let's hope you know who I am. =P