Author's Note: Written right after I read HBP, one-shot. PG for language. Nothing belongs to me. This has some HBP spoilers, beware! Completely Harry/Ginny, tiny hint of R/T. Enjoy!
Repetition
And here we are again, thought Ginny.
She was sitting dismally on a large, scruffy armchair in the living room of the Borrow, playing with the frayed material of the armrest, not noticing that she was causing it to become shabbier by the minute.
Ginny thought not of those things, but only of one thing—the one thing that had plagued her most of the summer; Harry Potter.
The wizard in question was walking around the room, trying to act happy and pausing to speak to people here and there. The room was relatively crowded, seeing as Bill and Fleur's wedding had taken place earlier that day and many people had stopped by the burrow to extend their congratulations to the couple. Ginny spotted Remus, Tonks, and Hermione by the door, checking the guests for any weapons, and trying to get Mad Eye away from ripping open the presents.
Ginny thought longingly of what Remus and Tonks had; how wonderful it was that they were in love, especially in the middle of such terror. She firmly believed in the support of friends and family during times like these, knowing that in the end being scared to love was a huge waste of a life.
She wished she could explain it to Harry.
Harry Potter wasn't speaking to her and seemed completely unconcerned of her presence in the room. She picked harder at her armchair, remembering how he had avoided her the entire time of his stay at the Borrow, and that any conversations were always clipped and awkward. In general, it was as if he didn't want to be in her presence, but this time, Ginny knew, it was for a completely different reason than in her first year.
He liked her. And though the redhead had fantasized vividly of it before, never had she the reality before her. To be liked, maybe loved, by Harry Potter had been, in a word, wonderful. In fact, it had been more than she could ever have hoped for.
She'd always liked him, certainly, but she had been silly back then and, Ginny admitted, quite uncomfortable in his presence. She had been unprepared when Harry suddenly had taken a fancy to her, and more importantly, unprepared of actually getting along so well with Harry as his girlfriend. She had been herself with him, and there had been no awkwardness, only a pleasant buzzing sensation in her head when she had been around him. She admitted it: she loved him.
But now…
She understood why they couldn't be together; knew his reasons, his feelings. But damnit, Ginny picked ferociously at the last remaining strings on the chair, weren't her reasons worth anything? How was she supposed to go on, be around him now, and everything? It was nearly impossible, what he was asking of her, to just let him go, maybe to face his death, and forget that he had ever cared about her.
She cursed him under her breath, watching the dark haired boy in question having a conversation with Ron across the room.
"Why are you destroying the furniture, little sister?" asked a smirking voice to her left. Ginny looked up and saw Fred standing there, wearing a ridiculous pair of electric blue robes and an infuriating smile.
"Because you aren't here to do it anymore," she replied, annoyed that she'd have to be bothered by him now.
"Touché," grinned Fred, "you know, you could always join George and me and work in the joke shop. Release some of the fury."
Ginny rolled here eyes, standing up, "I don't think you could handle it."
"I don't know," said George, coming up behind his brother wearing the same absurd robes, "We've taught you everything you know."
Fred nodded proudly, patting her head and making Ginny bristle, "And look how well you've turned out."
Ginny scoffed, "Only because I had to defend myself against you two prats."
George gave her a wide grin, "Exactly!"
Fred agreed, "And look at what a spitfire you've become. Never take anything lying down, that's our Gin!"
Ginny stared after them as they made their way back into the bustle and festivities. Oddly enough, she found Fred's words encouraging. Yes, she had changed, or maybe her old spunkiness had just emerged from her long first-year-Harry-induced-hibernation.
Feeling, for the first time in a long time, that heartening feeling of believing in yourself, she walked over to Harry Potter. For a minute he just stared at her, mouth slightly agape, probably because of the look on her face. She didn't know what to say. She couldn't speak, and why the hell was she even doing this…?
"Harry," she said, calmly and kindly, completely ignoring Ron's slack face beside her. She paused and waited to make sure he was listening, and to gather her nerves, "Look, I know how it is. And how we are…here again."
Harry gave her an uncomprehending look, mixed with both anxiousness and wory at her next words. She smiled slightly, somehow feeling more confident now that he was nervous, "But this time, I'm not giving up."
With that, she gently pulled his face to hers and wrapped her hands around his neck, firmly kissing him with all the feeling he'd wanted her to forget. It lasted only a minute, but as Ginny pulled away she saw his unfocused eyes and fluttering lashes.
"I'll be waiting," she breathed. She touched his forehead lightly with her fingertips before slowly turning and walking away, not waiting for a reply, much as he had done to her at Dumbledore's funeral.
Ginny felt him on her lips, and more importantly, her heart. Refusing to look back, lest she lost all of her resolve, she walked up Hermione and Tonk and started talking about the ceremony with a surprising amount of composure and attention.
She knew it would take Harry a long, long while. But maybe, when it was all over, they could start here again.