Author's Note:
So, I intended for this to end totally differently, but this just seemed right. Dedicated to echoing noise for an amazing set of prompts.
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Love is more afraid of change than destruction.
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Harry Potter was not one to ever really voice his emotions. Sure, he'd confide in Ron every now and then, whenever there was a problem and he knew that Hermione was always there for him, but it was generally hard for him to open up to anyone
He liked to view himself as a closed book, opening up only when the reader cared enough to see what was inside. He hardly ever volunteered information about himself, because the people around him assumed that they already knew everything about The Boy Who Lived.
Which was why this bitter, angry side was getting the better of him.
With bells ringing in his ears, deafening him, Harry stood outside the large, almost imposing church. His entire life had come down to this one moment. The moment where he had to decide whether he would act on his feelings, or leave this place forever never having done what he needed to do.
Looking through one of the two stain-glassed windows, he could see the guests lined up in their pews, gazing at the couple standing before them, making their vows. And what a couple it was. his dark, chocolate brown skin clashing horribly with her vivid red mane of hair.
Harry wished that he could see her beautiful face before him again, to see what emotions were running through her head at this very moment. Was she happy that she was about to be married, or dreading the fact that she had not chosen the right person? Harry was hoping, almost desperately, for the latter.
Harry placed his hand on the smooth, golden handle of the door, disbelieving that he had had the bravery to make his way to the church, but now could not follow through with opening the door.
He had imagined it very differently – speeding up to the church, pushing the door open without hesitating, not caring that everyone in there was staring at him, running up the aisle to his girl, whispering in her ear for a lingering moment, then taking her with him to a place where they would live in a blissful, beautiful solitude.
But this would not become a reality. Harry's rational side gave out and convinced him that now was not the right time. He didn't want to make a scene and he definitely didn't want to upset her on arguably the most important day of her life.
Yes, he would control himself. For now.
As he made his way back home, where he wouldn't be able to hurt anyone, Harry realised that he was incredibly conflicted, as well as a coward.
He wanted Ginny, yes? Yes.
So, why didn't he go and get her? Because that would disturb the ceremony and upset her.
Bullshit! It was because he was afraid. Afraid of what?
Her refusing him, obviously. No. That wasn't why.
Why, then? He was afraid because there was a chance that she preffered her new husband over him.
Well, that was perfectly natural. But didn't he want her to be happy?
Yeah, so? Well, what if she would be happy with Dean?
It didn't matter. He had to try. If he loved her, he had to try.
Somewhere, in the back of Harry's mind, he believed that this was an exceptionally bad idea. One of his worst, in fact. But he stifled his inner-Hermione and began to plan his next impulsive move, the move that would acquire total happiness.
That evening, he Apparated to the Burrow wearing his dress robes and his nerves. Harry knew that if this gesture did not work, nothing would ever work. He followed the other guests into the giant tent, recycled from Bill and Fleur's wedding, a time that seemed like eons ago.
The interior of the tent was beautiful, there was no other word to describe it. It was adorned with white roses. Ginny's favourite, Harry noted. The walls and ceiling were covered with white banners, a band played popular wizard love songs and couples crowded the designated dance floor, Ron and Hermione among them. Him, in his new dress robes, without the frills this time, her in a sleeveless celadon green dress that stopped at her knees. Harry could not help a sad smile as he watched them sway from side to side, lost in each other's eyes. It had been so easy for them. Why wasn't it always like that?
Ginny's eyes widened in surprise and happiness when she saw that Harry had arrived. Harry noticed that this was the most beautiful that she had ever looked. Her dress was an off white, almost golden and sleeveless, hanging off her pale shoulders. The train of her dress was so long that she had to hold her skirt and veil up while walking. Her arms were gloved. Auntie Muriel's tiara rested on her tamed red hair.
She ran up to him, trapping him in a tight hug. "Harry...I..." she murmured into his ear. This was the first time she had been lost for words in an incredibly long time. "I didn't see you at the ceremony, so I thought..."
When they broke apart, Harry gave her a soft smile. "Wouldn't miss it."
"I knew you wouldn't. I don't know why I doubted you." Ginny grinned. She began to ask him a question, but was cut off when the repeated cheers of "Kiss, kiss, kiss," in unison from the crowd overpowered her soft, gentle tone. Ginny gave him an apologetic smile before rushing to her new husband, clasping her hands behind his neck, standing on her toes and kissing him, with an air of romance about her that Harry never knew existed.
An hour ago, Harry had been ready to ruin Ginny's wedding and take her for himself, so what had changed? When Dean and Ginny had kissed moments ago, why had his jealousy been overrun by a need for her to be happy, even without him?
He was done. Taking an empty seat at one of the tables, gripping his Firewhiskey like a lifeline, he watched their first dance as a married couple, having finally given up.