A Merry Little Christmas
Through
the years, we all will be together, if the fates allow.
Until
then, we'll have to muddle through somehow.
So
have yourself a merry little Christmas now.
Ginny Weasley paced in front of the fireplace. The fire was blazing bright orange and beyond the glass in the window, she could see tiny snowflakes floating through the air under the porch light. It was early Christmas morning; it was still dark out. It was the first Christmas since the end of the War.
Ginny brought her fingertips to her mouth, gnawing on her pinky nail. Harry was supposed to arrive any moment, a surprise for the rest of the family. He had been staying in London while he helped the Ministry rebuild and try suspected Death Eaters and everything else that needed to be done at the end of the War.
Sighing, Ginny ceased her movements and collapsed into a big, overstuffed armchair facing the fire. She was hoping that Harry's arrival would bring up everyone's spirits. No one had been acting normal since the end of the War; George didn't even venture out of his room.
Suddenly, the flames turned green and Harry stumbled out, spilling ashes across the rug as he landed on his hands and knees.
"Harry!" Ginny grinned and leaped out of her chair. He was brushing dust from his coat, still on his knees, when Ginny tackled him and he landed on the carpet once again. "I'm so glad you're here! I've been waiting for ages."
"I said I'd be here at five thirty. I'm not late," Harry said, scowling up at her. Slowly, and reluctantly, Ginny climbed off of him and held out a hand to help Harry up.
"I know that. I was just... excited, I suppose." Ginny's grin faded slightly.
"Gin, are you okay?" Harry looked at her with concern filling his eyes.
"I'm fine. It's everyone else, Harry. No one's been acting the same. Not since... you know. And now that it's Christmas, everyone's just so much more miserable. I was hoping you could bring everyone's spirits up. You haven't been coming over lately. We've missed you." Ginny didn't say that she had missed him, though she had and wanted to tell him desperately. She wanted to tell him that she could barely think of anything but how he was doing, why he hadn't been coming around or who he was meeting while he was living in London.
"I mean, are you okay... with... you know, Fred?" Harry looked down at his hands where he was playing with the hem of his t-shirt, as if he had said something wrong.
It had been terribly hard at first, when Fred had died. She hadn't been able to eat for weeks and she had no idea what to say to George; she could barely look at him, at first. But then, after a few months, she had realized that Fred wouldn't want them to be like that. He wouldn't want them to be miserable and terrified of the world and quiet. He was so fun and lively and wonderful and Ginny had loved him so much. He was her brother and of course she missed him and sometimes she still had days where she was so sad she couldn't even think straight. But Fred would want her to be happy and live, so that's what she decided to do.
"I'm really fine, Harry," she said, looking up at him. "Really."
"Oh," was Harry's quiet reply.
"Are... are you okay, Harry?" Ginny asked him hesitantly.
"Of course. Why wouldn't I be? Just because the most important people in my life lost someone they loved so bloody much, because I was so stupid and careless and couldn't save him?"
"Harry. Oh, Harry." Tears filled Ginny's eyes. All this time, after everything, Harry felt responsible? "Is that why you haven't been around?" Harry shot her a look. "Harry," she whispered, placing her hand on her arm as the tears began running down her face, "it wasn't your fault. We knew people were going to die. We knew that. And we went and fought anyway. It wasn't because of you, Harry. It was Voldemort and the Death Eaters. It wasn't you. It was never you. Oh, God, Harry. Please, don't think it was your fault."
Sometime while Ginny had been talking, Harry had started to cry. Tears streamed down his face and Ginny's fingers itched to brush them away. Slowly, she raised her hand from his arm and she slid the pad of her thumb across his cheek, brushing away his sadness. He let out a soft sob as she made contact with his skin and he let his body collapse against her. Her arms caught him around the waist instinctively.
"Ginny... I just feel so guilty. I'm so, so sorry. I never meant to..." He trailed off as another sob burst from his throat. She rubbed his back and made soothing sounds and just let him cry. She had a feeling no one had ever really just let him cry like this.
"Harry," Ginny said softly, after standing there with him in her arms for what felt like hours. "You know I love you, right?"
"Yeah," he responded after a few moments. His voice was muffled, because his mouth was buried against her neck. "Yeah, I know."
Ginny smiled a small smile. That was enough for now.
