This is the response to yet another challenge, this one at OTP, for their One Magical Year challenge. The idea was to take a spell and write a story around it, and I picked wandwriting. It was a little bit tricky since we don't know very much about it at all (only two examples in the books --Dumbledore at the welcoming feast in PS/SS and Tom Riddle in the Chamber of Secrets). I had some great ideas when I took the challenge, but they all sort of seemed stupid after a while. So, I wound up with this, and I really liked it. Hopefully you will, too. It's a bit more angsty then I usually write, but only a bit.
The Question
Ginny looked up into the sky, smiling to herself as she watched Harry zooming past Ron. The Snitch had not been sighted yet, an hour into the game, and she supposed he was probably getting rather bored. Charlie, the Seeker for the opposing team, had also given up looking for that elusive golden flash of light and was flirting rather shamelessly with the keeper for his side, a girl Ginny had seen at a few Ministry functions but whose name she could not recall.
The weather was perfect today, as it should be in June. The warmth of the sun was tempered by a breeze. People were scattered all over the grass around the Quidditch pitch and filled the stands as well. Some, like Ginny, were sitting on blankets with picnic baskets and Omnioculars. Others were taking a more traditional approach and sitting in the high bleachers where they could watch the action in front of them.
They were all gathered today for the Third Annual Benefit Hogwarts Graduates' Quidditch Tournament, an event that last year had lasted three days and didn't seem to be heading to a much shorter conclusion this year. School had finished just two days before, and the students had stayed to help, even as the dorms and spare rooms were filled to capacity with family and friends and past students. This had been Harry's and Ron's idea, originally, although she suspected that no one really remembered that now. It had sort of taken on a life of its own, raising money for rebuilding the school and letting everyone have a heck of a good time as well. The Gryffindors, same as the other houses, fielded four teams originally in the tournament, and the four were whittled down to one and then the four houses competed to see which one would win the "Cup." Anyone who had ever played on a Hogwarts house team was eligible to sign on, and Ginny was glad that both Harry's team and Charlie's team had made it through so far. The other two teams had been adequate, but had none of the skill and grace that characterized both of her favorite Seekers' game style.
A shadow crossed her blanket and she looked up at Hermione. "Hi! I was wondering where you were off to. Ron would feel bad if you didn't see him play."
"The baby needed changing. And I watch Ron play Quidditch all the time. This game isn't that important."
Ginny made a face but decided not to push the issue. She and Hermione would always disagree about the importance of any game of Quidditch. "Where is little Al, anyway?"
"Your mum has him. Spoiling him rotten, of course."
"Naturally. He'll probably be sick by tonight."
"Hmm. Almost undoubtedly. He has his dad's sweet tooth, that's certain." They both smiled but then Hermione's face turned serious and Ginny squirmed inwardly. She had long been able to tell when her sister-in-law had something on her mind, and had been avoiding talking to her alone since she arrived, although she knew that she couldn't avoid her forever. "I wanted to talk to you."
"Okay. We're talking."
"Ginny, you know what I mean."
"Yes, yes. Sorry." Ginny squirmed again. Hermione and Ron had been married for two years now and generally she and Hermione had only grown closer. However, Hermione had not lost many of her bossy ways (although she was better at holding it in around Ron) and when it came to Ginny and Harry, she really liked to stick her nose in. Ginny knew it was because Hermione had been so close to Harry all through school. Then, that year of Horcrux-hunting and the eventual ordeal of finally finishing off Voldemort had brought Ron, Harry and Hermione even closer together. Ginny had to admit that she resented that a little bit. Okay. Honestly more than a bit. Still did, if she dared admit it to herself.
Even though Ginny and Harry had been dating now since a month after he returned from that final battle, Hermione still liked to consider herself an expert on all things Harry. Ginny supposed that Hermione was really pretty good at understanding people in general and tried to listen to her advice with an open mind. The only problem was that when it came to Harry, Hermione had a few blind spots, not having a clue how to deal with some of his moods and sometimes even causing Harry to be more upset when she was trying to diffuse a delicate situation.
Hermione had made it her mission the last few months to get Ginny and Harry married. She kept making suggestions about how Ginny could convince Harry to propose and Ginny had smiled, thanked her, and even tried a few of the less obnoxious ones, without any success. Ginny also wanted to get married. To Harry. She wanted to live with him, wanted to go to sleep next to him every night, and wake up to his bright green eyes every morning. She wanted children with him, even if they did have messy red hair and knobby knees. But, so far, he wasn't moving that direction and Ginny really didn't want to force him into it.
Oh, she could. She had no doubt about it. She didn't really need Hermione's suggestions. It would take her all of five seconds of appealing to his "saving people thing" and they'd be married by the end of the week. However, Ginny would also know that she had forced the issue, and would never know for certain if Harry was really happy. So, she had decided she would bide her time, even if it killed her. And sometimes, as she watched her brothers with their wives and children and how content they all were, she wondered if it really would.
She didn't know what was holding him back. She had her suspicions, but she hadn't dared even voice them, for fear that they would be confirmed and then she would have to deal with them. And that, she just could not bring herself to do. This way, she was in ignorant bliss and that seemed a pretty good place to be sometimes. Ever since he had returned from the battle, he had been holding something back from her, some small part of himself. At first, she thought it was something to do with the battle, some horrible memory he did not want her to know about. Then, she thought maybe it was guilt, or some feeling that he had done something wrong during the battle as so many innocent people had died along with Tom. But both of these ideas had been put to rest long ago as Harry spoke fairly openly about what had happened there that day.
"It's you, Ginny." Hermione's voice broke through her thoughts and she shook her head, not understanding what she said.
"What did you say?"
"It's you. The reason you're not married."
Ginny's heart started beating a little faster in fear as her friend voiced all her deepest fears and she tried to breathe deeply. "I -- I love him." Hermione just stared into her eyes and Ginny lifted her chin in defense. "What do you mean, anyway?"
"What do you think Harry's mum thought about right before she died?" It was such a non-sequitur that it took Ginny a moment to switch gears.
"What?"
Hermione looked steadily at her and asked her question again. "You heard me. What do you think Harry's mum thought about right before she died?"
"I . . . I guess she thought about how much she loved Harry."
"Yes, what else?"
"Well, I don't know. How would I know that?" Ginny tried not to sound angry, but wasn't succeeding very well.
"Think about what Harry has told you and then put yourself in her shoes. Take all the time you want. It's a hard question." Ginny turned her head up toward the sky again and forced a grin at Harry as he waggled his broom at her. The score was now 150-110 and everyone was starting to look tired, not surprising considering this was their second game of the day. She forced her thoughts back to the conversation and concentrated for a few minutes about everything she had been told happened that dreadful Halloween night and everything she knew about Lily Potter.
Hermione said nothing, laying back on the blanket and kicking off her sandals, watching her husband deflect a Quaffle or two and waving up at him.
"I suppose she thought about how he would live to fulfill the prophecy if she died instead of him." Ginny had often marveled at the strength it would take to die for someone, willingly like that. Then she had loved Harry and thought that maybe it wouldn't be that hard after all.
"I think you're wrong about that, Ginny." Ginny didn't answer. She was sure that Hermione had more to say. And she was right. "There was no guarantee Harry would live. She would naturally expect that Voldemort would cast the spell again, and kill Harry this time."
"But . . ."
"We don't really know what sort of spell she invoked, but it certainly was an untested one. She would have had no idea whether it would work or not. And if it didn't, then Harry would be dead just a moment later anyway."
Ginny thought for another minute. "I guess that's probably true."
"And of course, she must have thought about what life would be like for Harry if he did live."
"Yeah, that makes sense."
"Of course, she didn't know about Sirius and Azkaban and everything, but things were all set for him to go to his dreadful aunt's house already, we know that much. So she would have had to know he wouldn't have been happy there."
"She probably didn't know just how bad it was going to be."
"Maybe not. But she was smart. I bet she had some idea." They both sat quietly for a bit longer, watching the Quaffle be thrown around a bit more above them, each Gryffindor team scoring a few points as the Snitch stayed out of view. Finally, Hermione spoke again. "And, no matter what, she would have known he was going to be an orphan. That isn't easy for anyone to allow. She had to know he would always miss them, miss what could have been."
"That would be hard." Ginny wondered what Hermione was getting at and what this had to do with Harry wanting to marry her.
"I can't imagine leaving Al, ever, to such an uncertain fate. Lily could only protect Harry that last time, and then he would be alone." Hermione turned and looked fully at Ginny again. "So. Why did she do it?"
Ginny thought for a long minute, feeling the warmth of the sun on her face, thinking through all the implications of what she and Hermione had been discussing. "I guess . . . she wanted him to at least have a chance. Even it wound up being a useless sacrifice."
"Exactly." Hermione didn't say anything else for a second and Ginny was just about to ask why she had brought this up, when she opened her mouth again. "So, you need to forgive Harry."
Yet again the sudden change in topic confused Ginny a bit. Hermione had a habit of just making huge logic leaps in her mind and expecting everyone else to follow them. "I don't . . . . what does this have to do with me? And Harry?"
"She left him, willingly, even though she knew he would be angry, that he might still be hurt, that his survival was uncertain, that he would miss her terribly and would have a miserable time for a while before he found his own footing and made a new life for himself. That's what she did. And that's what Harry did for you."
If Hermione had picked up a Beater's bat and hit her over the head, Ginny could not have been more shocked. She stared at the other girl without saying anything. Finally the silence needed to be broken before it choked her. "But . . . it's not the same thing."
"It's exactly the same thing. There is no difference at all. Except he came back to you. She couldn't come back to him, ever. But he left you because he loved you. He still loves you."
Ginny could feel the frustration and anger gathering inside her like dark storm clouds, anger at Hermione for not understanding them, old anger at Harry for abandoning her, the older anger at the whole world for expecting so much from a boy. "I know he loves me. And he knows I love him, so-"
"You're still angry with him, Ginny. And he knows it. He's . . . .Well, he's one of the most sensitive people I know to how others feel about him. I don't know why. Some sort of empathy gene gone wild or something. Maybe it was a self-protection mechanism in that nasty household. But it doesn't matter. He knows you haven't forgiven him."
"I have. And I've told him that."
"And you're lying."
"I . . . I'm not lying."
"Really?" Hermione stood up again, looking over to where Molly was walking toward them from the castle, holding a screaming, squirming toddler in her arms. "I'd better go get Al. He's obviously unhappy about something. But think about what I said, Ginny." And then she was gone just as suddenly as she had come.
Ginny sat on her blanket, staring at nothing, as she thought about what Hermione had said. Was she still angry with Harry? Of course not. That would be mad. He was, after all, the boy she loved, wasn't he? He was, after all, the man who had vanquished Tom Riddle, You-Know-Who, Lord Voldemort, whatever you wanted to call him, wasn't he? He was, after all, the savior of the whole damn world, wasn't he? Ginny felt all the anger that had been boiling up inside her for the last few minutes coalescing into one huge angry mass at the pit of her stomach. She hated that he had left her, hated that he had thought her incapable of helping him, hated that he had thought she wanted to live without him, hated that she may have had to live without him! She stood up suddenly, knocking over her butterbeer bottle in the process, and grabbed her wand, planning on stalking into the Room of Requirement and blasting a few holes in the walls.
How dare he leave her! How dare he abandon her! And her family! How dare he . . . and then a whistle blew and she saw Harry slowly descending to the earth. She glanced in confusion around her and realized that someone on Charlie's team had fallen off their broom and that there was a time out as the Medi-Wizards attended to the wounded player. Harry slipped off his Firebolt and looked at her and smiled.
Suddenly, Ginny literally felt all that anger, all that frustration, implode in on itself, like a big black hole, sucking in everything and letting none of it out again, and then eating even its own self until there was nothing left at all.
But the cold vacuum in her soul was filled almost instantly by the warmth of his smile and his love for her. He did love her, love her enough to leave her, love her enough to want her to live, even if it was without him. What she feared most would happen, that he would die and she would live, that was what he had really expected. And he was willing to do it, because he loved her. She felt tears running thickly down her face and she just had to touch him.
She ignored all the other players standing on the pitch, ignored her own brothers calling to her, ignored Madam Hooch's indignant cry to leave the playing area, ignored even Harry's surprised expression as she ran toward him. She threw herself into his arms, wrapped her own arms around his neck, and sobbed into his chest. "I love you, Harry! I love you, I love you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I ever doubted you loved me. I'm sorry I was angry with you. I understand why you left me and it's okay. I don't want to be angry with you anymore!"
Harry said nothing, just patted her gently on the back and held her. Ginny wasn't even sure he understood what she was saying. She was sobbing hard with her head down and her words sounded garbled even to her own ears. Plus, she knew that the rushing air as you were flying could make it hard to hear for a while after you landed, anyway. So, she wasn't sure how much he really even heard. But it didn't matter. She would say it all again later, forever if she needed to. And not because she wanted to force him into anything, but because it needed to be said. Because he had to know that she forgave him. Because he had to know she now knew what he had done and appreciated it.
She sobbed for a few more minutes and felt the warmest feeling of love and security she had ever felt as he held her. Finally, at the sound of the whistle and the movement of air as brooms all around her ascended into the air, he let her go. He kissed her softly, stepped onto his broom, and flew up, waving at her before he turned his face skyward and his attention back to the game. Ginny allowed Madam Hooch to shuttle her off the pitch, somehow finding her way back to her blanket and her spilled butterbeer.
The match ended fifteen minutes later as Harry caught the delicate Snitch in his gloved hand and the stadium and ground around her erupted into cheers. Ginny watched him steadily through her Omnioculars, trying to tell by the look on his face what he thought of her earlier outburst. She felt, more than heard, the many congratulations being thrown about as her family members descended from the sky to their wives and children. Harry hadn't come down yet, and Ginny wondered why not. She finally heard Ron asking the same thing.
"What is he doing up there? We won, which is great, but we've got another game tomorrow and I know he wants to talk strategy."
"Maybe he's just flying for the . . . . No, wait. He's got his wand out." Ginny heard Charlie answer Ron and she took the Omnioculars from her face in vague alarm. If Harry was acting strangely, then there was probably some sort of danger. Maybe some escaped Death Eaters out to bag a big prize by killing him, or someone else. But, he didn't look scared. Instead, he was flying around in large circles, holding his wand behind him. His wand was acting strange, though, it looked like it was . . . smoking?
"He's writing something." Hermione said, moving again next to Ginny, shifting Al in her arms. "Muggles do this sometimes. Behind airplanes."
"What could he be writing?" Ron asked. "W . . .i . . .l . . .l. Okay. Will what? Y . . .o . . .u. Okay. Will who do what? M . . ."
Ginny knew then what Harry was doing and she didn't even wait for him to finish. Harry Potter, who feared all things public, dreaded public spectacle, hated anyone looking at him strangely, was asking her in the boldest way he knew the question she had been waiting for him to ask longer than two years now. She looked around frantically for a handy broom, and finally grabbed the one out of Charlie's hand.
"Hey!"
"I'll bring it back!" And she was on it in a flash, flying up toward Harry, who was just finishing up the "y." "Yes! Yes! Yes!" she was screaming as loudly as she could against the rushing wind as she flew toward the man who had been her destiny since she was ten years old and fell into his arms again.
"I didn't get to finish the question!" he yelled back at her.
"I don't care!"
"Marry me, Ginny?"
"You know I will, Harry! You know I will!"
