Wake Up
Chapter 1: Nothing's Real
a/n: this was supposed to be a oneshot songfic about Ginny coming to terms with a burgeoning HPHG relationship, but it has ended up turning into a post-HBP "final battle" multi-chapter songfic, with eventual HPHG, RWLL, and NLGW pairings. The usual disclaimers apply.
XXX
Ginny sat on her bed at the Burrow, her knees curled up to her chest. A scroll of parchment was resting on top of her closed 5th year Transfiguration textbook, which in turn was resting on her thighs, in order to create a hard surface for her to write on.
Bill and Fleur's wedding was a mere week away, and everyone was bustling about to make this wedding absolutely perfect. Despite Bill's injuries, despite the looming threat of You-Know-Who and the coming war, the entire Order was going to make this wedding a reminder for all that there was still joy and love around them.
Bill had asked her to make a speech at the wedding; Gabrielle, the only other bridesmaid, was also to make one. Their speeches were supposed to be about love, about letting one's beloved sibling go, about finding true love. The two younger sisters had been decided on in place of the traditional speech by the best man; there were simply too many Weasley brothers to choose from, and none of them would have kept their speech even remotely appropriate.
Which was why Ginny was sitting inside her room on a gorgeous afternoon at the beginning of August, the sunlight causing the red in her hair to dance. Her brothers were outside, and judging by the amount of whooping and jeering coming from the open window, were playing Quidditch. Her mum was downstairs cooking dinner, and the Delacour sisters (Gabrielle had arrived the day before yesterday) were looking over Fleur's wedding gown and the gold bridesmaid dresses.
Love. This damn speech is supposed to be about love. Ginny shook her head;
love was not something she wanted to think about right now. Harry Potter had broken up
with her a little more than a month ago, and she was still feeling the sting.
She knew his reasons, and she had accepted them; she knew that he couldn't bear to have one more person he loved torn away from him. But the more she thought about it, she realized that while he tried to save her, he was also killing her.
And I don't know
This could break my heart or save me
Her heart was broken, but she was determined to get over it. She would never let him know how much she was hurting, for fear of causing him superfluous pain. As a result, she had avoided him ever since he had arrived at the Burrow on his 17th birthday. She really didn't know if he had noticed; he had been constantly with Ron and Hermione, whispering to each other in corners, and greeting anyone who interrupted them with a plastered-on smile.
Nothing's real
Until you let go completely
She knew that war was imminent. She also knew that, if she had a choice, she'd force Harry to stay at the Burrow. While she was determined to get over it, she was less adamant in forcing her thoughts to abandon the fantasy that had played in her head for months, years.
Harry would propose to her after the final battle. The final battle would have been won by the Order, and she'd happily say yes. Not soon after, Ron would propose to Hermione, and they'd have a beautiful double wedding in the fall. Their kids would grow up best friends and they'd all attend Hogwarts. Harry would be a famous Auror, Ginny would be a professional Chaser on the Chudley Cannons, Hermione would be a Healer at St. Mungo's, and Ron would be Harry's partner. And they'd all live happily ever after.
Of course, none of that was real. As beautiful as it sounded, it wasn't real and it couldn't happen. And in order to let Harry go, to let him do what he was quite literally destined to do, she needed to completely forget that fantasy.
And there was also the small problem of what was the budding relationship between her older brother and her best friend.
So here I go with all my thoughts I've been saving
So here I go with all my fears weighing on me
Hermione and Ron had been dancing around each other for the past year, neither willing to admit that they had any sort of non-platonic feelings for the other. In the wake of Dumbledore's death, they had admitted some of it, although nonverbally.
They weren't together, even now at the Burrow, and it seemed like Hermione's affection was waning. She wasn't as willing to forgive him as she had been, and she was getting more and more irritated with the youngest Weasley boy.
Admittedly, she had mentioned none of this to Ginny. But her long scoffed-at woman's intuition told her that there was someone else that Hermione was pining after; unfortunately, this person didn't want to notice anyone, let alone his bookworm best friend who was supposed to be madly in love with his other best friend.
Ginny saw the way that Hermione threw glances at Harry over this past week, when Harry wasn't looking at anything but his hand, turning his wand over and over in his fingers, deep in thought. She saw the way that Harry would look at Hermione in turn, his eyes bright and filled with pain. She saw how Harry flinched every time Ron would touch Hermione in a way that was more than platonic; she saw how tense Hermione would get when Ron's arm snaked around her waist, and how she only relaxed when it was removed.
Ginny understood how this had happened. In the month before his birthday, he and Hermione had been in constant contact, discussing everything from his plans to go defeat Voldemort and not return to Hogwarts, to his affection for the youngest Weasley that he had managed to completely eradicate out of necessity, not malice. Hermione had explained it all during hers and Ginny's late night heart-to-hearts.
Of course, Ginny could not help notice the large dollop of honey that crept its way into Hermione's voice whenever she talked about Harry. Hermione wanted to protect him, to soothe him, to tell him that no matter what, things would turn out okay; she was the only person he would tolerate such optimism from. She and him were closer then they ever had been, and Ginny was kind enough to not interfere, despite her desire to slap Hermione for falling in love with the boy that she loved, who had dumped her a mere month and a half ago, and who was also not her brother.
But Ginny saved these thoughts, pouring them into her journal. She ranted about loving Harry, Hermione's feelings for Harry, Harry's feelings for Hermione that she could only guess at – everything. She was just so deathly afraid that Ron would get hurt.
The poor boy was completely oblivious to Hermione's increasing uncomfortability with him, and Ginny felt the guilt of not telling him about it every time she saw the Golden Trio hanging out, with the Chosen One slightly apart from the two supposed lovebirds.
Ginny sighed, and yanked her thoughts away from the people yelling and laughing outside of her window. She had a speech to write, one about a subject she knew so much about, but so little too.