No Need
By HiSpAnIc PaNiC
The Reason behind the Resurrection of MeliFlames
Rating: G
Setting: Hogwarts, Harry's 6th year, Christmastime
***
The fire crackled merrily, chirping its happy song. Harry glared at it with immense hatred. There was no right to feel happy, not today, when Harry was feeling like a great load of owl droppings.
He continued to watch the fire whisper and dance, unaware of the mysteriousness of his own face. It had been around this time last year, when he had received his very first kiss under the mistletoe from Cho Chang.
But now, Harry was nearing manhood, and as a man must realize, there are certain responsibilities and sacrifices a man needs to make.
Looking back on secret crushes and shared blushes seemed petty and childish now; even though he didn't want to admit it, Harry was made for greater things. And now he knew:
There was no need for romance.
It was all very well for Ron and Hermione, who, even though they had sworn eternal loyalty to him, swore it together, and would never be alone. They would never be alone, because they loved each other blindly, and therefore could dream about the other instead of crimson eyes, flickering curtains, and the coming war.
Harry sat there, his fingers interlaced, his elbows resting on his knees, staring at the fire. It was a miracle he was still awake, a miracle he wasn't so mentally exhausted he hadn't blacked out yet. And so he sat there, counting his blessings, waiting for what, he did not know, but knowing that he needed to be there.
***
Ginny Weasley perched at the end of the girls' staircase banister, watching Harry become slowly enveloped by the darkness. She wondered what he was thinking about. But Ginny Weasley was never one to sit around and wonder, so she slid down the banister, and, landing with a soft thump on the carpet, padded her way over to him.
"Harry?" she asked tentatively, tucking a rogue strand of hair behind her ear. Harry said nothing. His eyes hardened on the glow of the embers. "Harry, what are you thinking?"
Harry had never known someone to be this straightforward. He turned sideways to face her.
She smiled shyly at him, and came to rest upon the arm of the couch on which he was seated. Harry subconsciously studied her, sitting there in a fluffy yellow robe and slippers, her eyes warm and inviting. He hesitated only a second…
"I'm becoming a man, Ginny."
"Oh…well, yes…I mean, I would hope so…" she replied softly.
"No. I mean, I understand what…what I'm supposed to be."
"Oh," said Ginny again. "You realize your responsibility to the world, and all that."
"Yes," Harry whispered, suddenly finding it unbearable to look at her, and turning his head back to the fire.
"Well, Mr. Potter. What are your responsibilities then?"
It would have been the end of the conversation if it had been anyone else.
"I'm meant to be the lone wolf, Ginny. My purpose in life is to kill or be killed, and, truthfully, if I had to look forward to either of the two, the latter one would be my choice, so that I wouldn't have to think, to breathe, to worry anymore."
"I understand," she murmured in that soft voice again. "You're closing out your life to everything else that does not involve Tom…I mean, V-Voldemort. Correct?"
"Yes." Harry said again.
"So you don't give him any openings, correct? So he can't use any of your weaknesses against you, to win you?"
He said nothing. It was amazing how she could know all this, as if she were looking inside his very head.
Ginny smiled a bit, and, with the air of a mother scolding her two-year-old, ruffled his hair playfully. "That's dangerous, Harry."
This statement was so ludicrous to him he turned back towards her. "How?"
"Because your heart is what saved you, Harry. It is what will continue to save you. And its emotions are a very complex, very unstable thing, making it much more powerful than any kind of magic."
He opened his mouth to say something, but— "Don't ask me how I know these things. I just do, alright?"
There was a small silence, in which they both sat, watching the flickering of the flames.
"But…but I can't love someone. It'll just put them in more danger, won't it?"
Ginny mulled over this for a moment. "The funny thing about love is, it knows no danger, no limits, no boundaries. It isn't something you can control, or something you have a choice in. You love whom you love because there's a reason to. And everything happens for a reason.
"I suppose, technically speaking, yes, it will put that person in more danger—"
Harry's heart gave a nasty jolt.
"—but if it is true love, they will be able to handle all consequences."
And, feeling quite silly, Harry asked, "Have you ever been in love, Ginny? True love, I mean."
A slight tinge shaded Ginny's chocolate freckles, but she replied, "Well, I was in love with the worst person in the world once."
Harry hung his head.
"I was in love with Tom Riddle at the age of twelve. On the other hand, it was because he was the one who would pay me the most attention, and who truly seemed to care about my feelings, my thoughts. But I don't think that was true love.
"Michael Corner, I would have to say, was more of an infatuation."
Harry, feeling sillier still and turning quite red, asked, "What about me?"
There was no trace of a blush on her face now, and, looking him straight in the eye, said,
"Yes. I was truly in love with you…and…and I suppose I still am, because, you see, Harry, I may have given up on you, but I never let you go."
He sat there and blinked for a moment, not daring to believe what he had just heard, nor that Ginny had just opened up to him so completely.
"I'm sorry," he found himself saying. "But I…I just never felt that way towards you, in all the time I've know you."
"That's because you don't know me," said Ginny a bit sharply. "Not really, anyway." She slid off the couch quite suddenly. Harry stood up as well; grasping her wrist loosely and making her turn round.
"Look," she said coolly, "I'm not asking you to love me—"
"I know it," he replied, "But…but will you promise me something?"
She looked into his emerald eyes, filled with plea.
"Okay."
"I'm not asking you to love me, just…promise me, promise me we can become friends. No one's ever known what I was thinking and feeling like you just did."
"You can't do one without the other, Harry. But alright, I promise."
He walked her over to the stairwell, and, quite suddenly, embraced her in a tight hug. Without hesitation, she hugged him back.
A clock somewhere chimed midnight.
"Merry Christmas, Ginny," he whispered.
"Merry Christmas, Harry," she replied, and, as he let her go, she averted her eyes to the ceiling. Harry rubbed the back of his neck embarrassedly. "Sorry, I just…I dunno what came over me—what's wrong?" he added, looking at her horrified expression.
She pointed upward, where a bunch of mistletoe was strung.
"Oh…"
They looked at each other for a moment, then, ever so slowly, Harry leaned in, and pressed his lips gently to hers, leaving them there only a few seconds.
Once he released, Ginny let her eyes flutter open. "You didn't have to do that, you know."
He gave her that rare smile. "I know. I don't even know why I did. But, a wise friend once told me, 'everything happens for a reason'."
And so it does.
***
Merry Christmas and God Bless, G/H ers!
*HiPa*