It wasn't long after midnight when an exhausted looking Mr. Weasley came into the living room to tell them all it was time to go to bed. He did not, however, stay to see whether they listened to him, and returned to the room that held his grief-stricken wife. Everyone had gone back to the Burrow the day after the end, and since they had nowhere else to go, Harry and Hermione were invited to stay with the Weasley's.
Harry, in return, had done everything he could to help out. He de-gnomed the garden, helped with the cooking, cleaned anything that had a spec of dirt or dust on it. No matter what anyone told him, he still felt responsible for the death that had ripped a hole in the fabric of his pseudo-family. He felt that way about every death that had occurred because, he thought, of him. But with the Weasley's it was the hardest, and so he tried to make up for it in the only ways he knew how.
Even if they didn't blame him, and he knew that they didn't, he still blamed himself. His greatest solace the last few days had been Ginny, whose head was resting quite comfortably between his neck and his shoulder at the moment, a place that had recently become one of her favorites. He felt guilty, though not often, about how incredibly wonderful he felt being with her again. After the end, they had fallen back into each other almost as if they were never separated at all. They would surely have to talk about it sooner or later, but it seemed to Harry that at the moment, they would both prefer later.
No one had been talking when Mr. Weasley entered the room. Ron sat on the floor with his back resting against Hermione's knees, his eyes closed and Hermione stroking his hair. Once Mr. Weasley left, however, they both got up to do as he'd asked, muttering a short goodnight to Harry and Ginny and disappearing up the stairs.
Though their relationship seemed subdued in the presence of others, Harry had already walked in on them, though telling the story had gotten a laugh out of Ginny. That didn't make it any less uncomfortable when he did catch them. In an effort to keep it from happening, Harry and Ginny usually gave them a few minutes to each other, which had, unfortunately, been about the extent of the alone time Harry and Ginny had been able to find recently.
Ginny did not move except to rest a hand on top of Harry's knee. He tilted his head towards hers and reveled in her flowery scent. "Thank god I had you to come back to," he whispered more to himself than to her. She didn't answer and she didn't show any signs of having heard him, but after another minute of silence, Ginny stood up and offered him her hand.
"They're probably finished, so time for bed," she said, smiling softly. He took her hand in silence and used it to pull himself up and off the overlarge chair they had been sharing. Without a word they ascended the stairs, Harry keeping hold of Ginny's hand.
Luckily, when they reached the door to her bedroom, neither Ron nor Hermione were in sight and they did not hear the unpleasantly familiar sounds of lip-smacking on the other side of the door. They stopped, Ginny turning to face him and taking a step to get closer. He kissed her, briefly, closing his eyes and still holding her hand.
"Goodnight, Harry," she said, extricating her hand from his and turning to open the door to her room. When she turned back around, he smiled, told her goodnight as well, and walked the rest of the stairs up to Ron's attic bedroom.
Harry knew within the first few minutes of lying down that he would not be falling asleep anytime soon. He also knew that if he waited long enough, sleep would eventually creep up on him and linger for a few short hours before he woke up with the rest of the house. The first couple hours came and went and it became increasingly obvious that he, unlike the loudly snoring Ron, would not be able to sleep. And since Harry had something that he had been meaning to do, and still hadn't, he decided to do it now.
As silently as he could Harry put his glasses on, grabbed his wand from underneath his pillow, pulled his shoes on and walked down the stairs. He paused at Ginny's door. As quietly as he could, Harry opened the door to Ginny's room and sought out Hermione, who seemed to be sleeping peacefully. For now, he thought. Ron and Hermione certainly weren't sleeping together, thankfully, but sometimes when the nightmares were bad, Ron stayed with her.
He tiptoed over to her and slightly shook her. She awoke instantly, eyes gleaming in the darkness, searching for any sign of danger.
"Hermione, it's me," he whispered, not wanting to wake Ginny.
"Harry?" she asked, weariness evident in her voice. "What's the matter? Has something happened to Ron?" She sat up immediately and Harry couldn't help smiling to himself.
"No, everything's fine," he assured her. "It's just I can't sleep so I'm going to go outside. I'm not planning on coming back in 'til everyone else wakes up and I thought you might like to be with Ron…" He trailed off, not really sure what else to say.
As he was talking, Hermione had gotten up. Harry knew she wouldn't miss an opportunity to be with Ron if and when the nightmares struck, so he took her movement as a sign that she was going upstairs. With a nod he turned to exit the room, but not before hearing a soft "thanks" from Hermione. He crept down the stairs and through the kitchen where he exited out the back door.
Now free of the house, Harry wrapped himself in his invisibility cloak and apparated as close to the Hogwarts grounds as he could get. Many of the protective wards that had been broken during the battle had been replaced, meaning Harry could not apparate directly onto the grounds. But he found that he did not mind walking so much, especially under the cloak.
It didn't take him long to reach the tomb, which had a long crack along the top left by the last visitor. Hoping that the fact that it was four in the morning would be enough to keep people from spying on him, he removed his cloak. Harry, succumbing to habit, had yet to take off the pouch that hung around his neck. The inside held only one item: the Elder wand. Until now he hadn't had a spare moment to return it to Dumbledore's tomb.
With his newly repaired wand, Harry levitated the top of the white marble coffin and kept it hovering several feet above him. He walked uncertainly toward the edge, not wanting to look inside because it still hurt to remember that night that had been the catalyst of the year from hell. Quickly, and without wanting to remain there longer than he had to, Harry placed the Elder Wand between Dumbledore's hands and replaced the top of the coffin.
He'd done what he came here for, but he didn't want to leave just yet. Harry wanted to somehow pay homage to the place that had been his home, but he drew a blank. Instead, he walked the short way to the lake and propped himself against a tree, not bothering to put his invisibility cloak back on. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep watching the calm surface of the lake.
After what seemed like only a moment, Harry felt someone shaking him. He wanted to tell them to sod off, but instead simply turned away from whoever it was. They were insistent, which only served to irritate him. Then he remembered that he had left the Burrow without telling anyone where he was going and that Mrs. Weasley was probably worried sick over his disappearance. And so, begrudgingly, Harry sat up again, wiping the sleep from his eyes and readjusting his glasses.
Somewhere above him he heard a laugh, and Merlin save him if it wasn't the best sound he'd heard in months. "Does a bed just not have the same allure as dirt?" a familiar voice said, a smile evident in their voice. Harry looked up at her and tried to smile, not sure how successfully it came off. Ginny offered him her hand.
He took it, hauling himself to his feet not unlike the night previously. She was still smiling as he stood up and faced her, and just like hours ago, he didn't let go of her hand. Before he could even ask, she answered his question. "Apparently the only person who knows you've gone yet is Hermione, so if we leave now no one else will know." With that she pulled him along to the outskirts of the grounds so they could apparate back to the Burrow. Harry was immensely thankful that of all people to have found him, it was Ginny, but he had no idea how she knew where he was.
"How'd you find me?" he asked as they set out. The smile on her face was beginning to recede and he finally saw how tired she was. "Did you not sleep last night?" he asked with worry evident in his voice.
"Couldn't," she answered simply. The smile was all but gone from her face and Harry considered himself responsible. He wanted nothing more than to make sure she never stopped smiling with him.
"So you heard me come in then?" he asked, hoping that she wasn't mad at him for not asking her to come with him. Surely she would understand why he wanted to go alone? But he still hadn't told her everything that had happened. There just hadn't been any time to, and she hadn't asked him to open up.
In response to his question she nodded her head and continued walking with her eyes looking out on the horizon. Harry finally sensed that something was off and that maybe her laughter and her smile earlier had been somewhat forced. He stopped and turned towards her, ready to explain, to tell her everything right there when she spoke first.
"I thought you were leaving again." He thought he saw a shimmer in her eyes but she blinked rather rapidly for a few moments and then it was gone. And not for the first time since the end of the war, he felt guilty. Only this time he really felt like he deserved it. "I followed you outside when Hermione left, but I didn't see you. I searched for hours before I thought to try here."
She had let go of his hand and crossed her arms over her chest. Unfortunately, at that moment, Harry became acutely aware of the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. His last few months had been spent focused and without distractions, but the simple fact that Ginny was comfortable enough in front of him not to wear that both distracted him made him giddy inside. Though the fact that he described the feeling as "giddy" was enough to make him cringe internally and refocus on his current situation.
As his experience in consoling Hermione their sixth year had proved, he was entirely ill-prepared to say anything helpful when comforting people. And he had no idea what to say or do to appease Ginny, who, if she had wanted, probably could have hexed him awake just now. Or at any time really. The fact that she hadn't was promising, but he couldn't think what to say.
He wanted to say something, anything, but he had no idea what would help and Ginny seemed particularly impatient at the moment. Instead of trying to figure out the best way to explain why he had left, he decided to say simply, "I'm sorry," which seemed to lessen the glower on Ginny's face.
And then she did something Harry was fairly sure would not happen then or ever. Ginny flew into Harry and his arms encircled her almost immediately. Stunned as he might be, he decided to take it as a good sign that he wasn't currently being hexed. But then he realized that Ginny was crying, something else that he hadn't expected.
Sure, she had cried for Fred, as he knew she would, and he had done his best to comfort her. At the time, he assumed he had done a passable job, but now it seemed like he had lost all ability to say or do anything to help. He had an idea why she was suddenly sobbing into his shoulder, so instead of saying something that would make him look like an ass, he just held her.
Ginny, wonderful, strong-willed person that she was stopped crying after a few moments. Harry, thinking that the worst was behind him, emitted a small sigh of relief before noticing the glare he was getting. "I don't know where the hell you get off leaving in the middle of the fucking night like that," she began. She wasn't yelling, but she was definitely getting ready to ream him out. I deserve it, he thought as she laid into him.
He'd been expecting this to happen for days and felt a mixture of relief, guilt, and shame. Relief that someone was finally getting mad at him, guilt over all the pain he had caused, and shame thinking that it was okay to be happy with Ginny. "D'you know what it was like for my mum when we saw Hagrid carrying you that day? D'you know what she said? 'Not again.' She thought she lost two sons that day." Why don't they all hate me? he asked himself as he listened to Ginny tell him what happened, and how she and the others felt, and what she'd endured.
"And all you do," she said, her anger not as visible on her face anymore, "Is sulk. And don't pretend for a minute like we don't know you think this is all your fault. It's not. Voldemort was the monster, not you." He wanted to tell her how wrong she was, he wanted to tell her what had been living inside him since the night Voldemort killed his parents.
"Will you sit with me?" he asked, since it seemed Ginny had finished. She didn't seem so hostile anymore as they both sat down with their backs to an oak tree, shoulders brushing. "Gin," he said, not sure where to start. "It's hard not to think that if I'd been braver, or smarter, or cleverer, I could've…" The words died in his throat; he couldn't bring himself to say what he knew to be true. If he had been better, her brother would still be alive. Lots of people would be.
Harry hoped that Ginny would understand what he had left unspoken. He knew she would probably hate him for it, for not being hero enough. "Right," she said after a moment, standing up. She didn't seem mad, but she was leaving. "If you're going to be a prat then I'm going home."
It didn't take long for Harry's confusion to turn into anger; anger that she was being so stubborn, anger that she didn't understand, anger that she wasn't giving him a chance to explain. So he went after her, having to jog to catch up with her. She pretended not to notice that he was there, which served only to make him angrier. "I'm a prat, am I?" he said somewhat forcefully, still meeting only silence. "If it weren't for me everyone might still-"
"If it weren't for you I'd probably be dead. If it weren't for you, we'd ALL be dead. Voldemort was a killer and you can't hold yourself responsible for that." She had whirled on him, every bit as angry as before, and felt slightly cowed by what she said.
"That doesn't change the fact that I feel like this!" he said, keeping himself from yelling.
"And I don't expect it to!" her voice rising in pitch. But suddenly she softened, stepping towards him hesitantly and keeping her eyes focused on his. "I don't want you to think that we blame you for anything. I don't blame you for anything. But dammit Harry I'm not going to sit back while you wallow in your guilt. Grief is one thing, an understandable thing, but not guilt."
"Have I been that bad about it?"
"Not as much as I expected," she said as she leaned towards him. "But I'd hoped there were some things that would make you happy."
"There are," he said, putting his arms around her. She kissed him then and he was so immensely glad that he hadn't lost her. "My guilt isn't going to go away just like that though," he told her after pulling back.
"I know," she replied, taking hold of one of his hands and leading him towards the apparition point. "Will you tell me what happened?"
His stomach flipped, but he decided that she deserved to know, deserved his honesty, his whole life if she wanted it. "Sure, but after breakfast if that's all right." At that she laughed and Harry thought that it was the most magical thing in the world.
A/N: There are probably tons of these floating around out there, but I wrote my own anyway. It never occurred to me that Ginny would be upset with Harry for leaving, but rather that he was an idiot thinking that somehow it was his fault he couldn't save everybody. This goes back and forth a bit, but with my infinite experience defeating Dark Lords (sarcasm), it's believable to me.