A/N: My first Harry/Ginny fic so go easy! R&R!
Ginny Weasley raced down the stairs. Harry was arriving today, and he would be staying until term started—a whole two months! She knew she had just seen him a month ago but she missed him already. She knew he was sad to see Dumbledore go, but she didn't know how sad until she saw his face.
When she got down to the bottom step she stopped and stared at him. He had changed so much in a month. He had gotten thinner, and he seemed older—much older. He looked as though he had been through hell—and he had.
He continued to blame Dumbledore's death on himself. He had eaten very little, only eating half of the small amount of food the Dursleys spared for him.
She had hoped she could just run into his arms and kiss him. She had hoped all those things he had said on Dumbledore's funeral would be taken back, and they could be together again. Ginny realized that that wasn't going to happen. He didn't smile when he saw her, if anything he looked sadder. He didn't acknowledge her presence in any romantic way. He just gave her the most hollow, sad, forlorn look she had ever seen as he said, "hello, Ginny."
His tone scared her and she answered, dazed by him and his sadness, "hello, Harry. How are you doing?"
"As well as expected," he said.
"You don't sound that well to me," she said.
Harry sighed. This was going to harder than he had originally anticipated. Her tone suggested that he had shocked her. What had she expected, though, with Dumbledore's death so fresh? Certainly she hadn't expected him to rush into her arms and say how wrong he was? One look at her told him all he needed to know—she had.
Ginny was in a rather uncomfortable situation. Harry and her were the only people left at the dinner table, kept there by Mrs. Weasley because they wouldn't touch their food. They wouldn't touch their food for the exact same reason: each other.
"Harry…?" Ginny said tentatively.
"Yes Ginny?" Harry asked, a note of sadness in his voice.
"Why did we have to break up?" she asked, her eyes full of hope as she gazed into his. It was then that she realized his were not full of hope. His eyes were like shattered glass, hope not even being in the smallest pieces.
She knew she had said the wrong thing even before Harry sighed and said quietly, "it had to be done, Ginny. You… you would be hurt."
"I don't care," she said, her voice a desperate whisper, and she reached out and grabbed his hand as she declared, "nothing could cause me as much pain as seeing you every day, knowing that you love me and that I love you, too. Nothing could cause me as mush pain than looking into your eyes and seeing shattered glass—yes, Harry, I see it. I can help. I know you need me as much as I need you. And, oh, how I need you Harry, please…" her tone changed into fierce determination as she said, "you're being an idiot! Can't you just stop playing the hero and accept that I'm here and I'm not going away?"
He let go of her hand and said quietly yet determinedly, "you won't die, Ginny."
The conversation was over. She ate her food quickly and left because she couldn't stand to see it—she couldn't stand to see that the glass was shattered into even smaller pieces.
It couldn't be said which was stronger—her sadness or her rage. She was sad because she loved Harry, and he wouldn't open up to her. She was angry because he could be, and his need to be a hero added to devastation had gotten in the way of that.
He simply sat there and continued to eat his food. He thought he had done what was best, and didn't understand that Ginny's words were the truth… he was hurting her more than anything else could have, even death.
The next day Ron decided he had to talk to Harry. At first he thought that Harry should just deal with his problems in solitude, since that was his preferred way, but that simply wouldn't do any more. Harry's sadness had taken its toll on Ginny, and he had only been at the Burrow one day. Before lunch, Ron cornered Harry. "You need to cheer up," Ron said, not even uttering a hello first.
"Why?" asked Harry, his voice desolate.
"Why? Why, you ask? Because you are having your effect on Ginny. It's like your sadness has spread to her like—like some sort of terrible disease," said Ron.
"I wish it were a disease—then it would either have a cure or kill me. And anyway, Ginny is pissed off at me right now…"
This was worse than Ron had anticipated. "Harry—you're an idiot!" he said, Harry sighing, hearing that from one Weasley in 24 hours was enough, but Ron didn't stop there, "Harry! Snap out of it! You are driving Ginny into depression damn it! I won't allow it!" He seized Harry by the shoulders and shook him.
"You're right," said Harry, no longer sounding quite as lost, "I'll—I'll try to cheer up… for Ginny."
"Don't just do it for Ginny," Ron said, his voice quiet, "I don't want you to be depressed any more—you're my best mate, I don't want to lose you, all right?"
"All right, Ron," said a slightly less pale Harry, "I'll try."
Ginny went to lunch very sad. She no longer was angry with Harry—he was too sad, too pitiful to be angry with him long. She still had hope at breakfast—she knew Harry loved her, she just knew it! But he was so distant, so sad… she had tried to corner him after breakfast but he had locked himself in his room. So, going to lunch, she did not have much of an appetite.
"Harry… you're eating," Ginny said, staring at him as though he were a zombie from another planet.
"Well…" he said, "it's not going to do anyone any good for me to starve."
"Well, I… I suppose so," said Ginny, still surprised at his mood change.
Mr. Weasley came in unexpectedly (he was supposed to be at work) and said after some small talk, "Harry, you've inherited most of Dumbledore's things."
Harry looked up at him, stopped eating and sighed. That heavy sigh that could only mean one thing: all was not well beneath his tangled dark hair inside his complex brain.
Ginny gave her father a murderous look. "Oh…" said Mr. Weasley, not really knowing what else to say. He had just glanced at Harry's plate, and realized Harry had started eating again. And what did he do? He came in here and reminded the poor boy of Dumbledore. "I'll… I'll just go now, didn't mean to ruin your lunch… I'll won't be at dinner, I'm… er… working late."
"Good-bye, Dad," said Ginny, her tone a mixture of annoyance and sadness.
A/N: For those of you who read my other fic (My Name is Lisette Black) don't worry! I will not neglect that one! I 3 that one... and if you haven't read it, go read it! R&R!
