a/n: Happy Holidays! This fic has been brought to you by the Incognito Elf event on the Harry/Ginny discord.
Thank you to hills for creating and maintaining the fanfic rec blog on tumblr! Enjoy this fic because you're awesome!
Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling,
Title: this collapsing night
Word Count: 1K
Summary: Between their first kiss to the funeral, happiness flourishes like sunlight. [HPB missing moments, for Hills!]
love, love, until the night collapses.
pablo neruda
i.
The sun had just started to slip behind the horizon when they reached the Lake.
"So," Ginny looked over at him, "how long?" The last of the sun's rays caught the lighter highlights in her hair. There was that same blazing expression Harry had the witness of seeing just earlier before their first kiss. Everything about her shone scarlet and gold and alabaster as if she carried a piece of the sun underneath her skin.
Harry reached for her hand. He felt the similar pattern of callouses that even Quidditch gloves couldn't prevent from years of flying. "You sort of snuck up on me," he admitted. He couldn't find another way to describe the gradual build-up of realizations. This was Ginny, his friend, his teammate, Ron's sister. Someone he liked and wanted to kiss again.
He knew from Sirius and Remus that James' love for Lily was like a lightning strike—the epiphany sudden and all-encompassing. For Harry, however, he likened his to a series of quiet moments that felt like a sunrise.
Unable to describe this in better detail, Harry squeezed Ginny's hand and bent down to kiss the corner of her quick mouth. One day he'll be able to tell her with better words, but he was content with this—the quiet language of learning the shape of her mouth, the soft gasp as he cradled the back of her head with his hand.
I have plenty of time to learn, he considered.
ii.
"I don't do this often," Harry admitted. He held their joined hands up, his smile almost shy. Around them, students made their way down the worn main street of Hogsmeade. "Never been on much of a date, too."
"You have been saving the world on a yearly basis." Ginny made a show of checking her non-existent watch on her other hand. "Huh, that should be any time now."
"Cheeky," he muttered.
With the snow melted and the nervous excitement of the year ending growing, the village had transformed. Long stalks of flowers with pale petals sporadically dotted personal gardens, the air heavy with sunshine and humidity. Students had shed their heavy layers of cloaks, some in favour of more casual Muggle clothes than others in their lighter robes. Harry, in particular, found himself wholly fascinated by the pink-orange freckles on Ginny's collarbone revealed by the scooped neck of her shirt.
Because of this, he was easily led astray.
They stopped at Madam Puddifoot's. It was just as pink as the year before, but the entrance smelled overpoweringly of roses.
Harry sneezed.
Ginny grinned, impish.
"You're evil."
iii.
Ginny's shoulder knocked against his. Harry's head shot up, catching the flowery scent of her shampoo. "Does McGonagall ever give us a break?" She tossed her crumpled essay on the library table.
"That bad?" He unfolded it and winced at the red marks. McGonagall was known for increasing in severity the closer OWLs were. Harry had hoped for a break now that he was in his Sixth Year, but she had a terrifying amount of joy when reminding them about their upcoming NEWTS and their respective entrance exams in their future careers. Harry wasn't sure if it was a good thing sign that he was daydreaming about Voldemort interrupting his intense study sessions with Ron and Hermione.
Ginny threw her arms around Harry from behind, sighing dramatically. "I need a distraction before I grovel for Hermione's help."
"I like the sound of that." Happily pushing his Potions homework aide (and now useless since he no longer had the Half-Blood Prince's textbook for help) and leaned his head back. "Groveling is good for the soul."
"You're being rather useless," she said.
"You like it."
Ginny kissed the top of his head. "I unfortunately do."
iv.
"Best two out of three," Harry panted. Sweat plastered his black hair to his temples, his glasses threatening to fall off his face. The Snitch fluttered against his cupped hands. It had been a narrow chance against his girlfriend.
Ginny's grin was bright against the sunlight. "Ooh, afraid of some competition for next year, Captain?" She dove under him in a fluid motion of her wrist, directing her broom to fly in a tight spiral. "You can do better than that!"
Was he actually afraid of some competition? Harry couldn't tell because he found the sight of Ginny flying more distracting than the Snitch that had escaped his grasp. It knocked against the side of his head, impatient for the next round to start.
He licked his chapped lips. "Only one way to find out."
v.
Kissing Ginny was an incredible experience.
Between his yearly Quidditch injuries, cursed scar, bites from various monsters, and other near-death experiences, Harry forgot that the back of his neck became extra sensitive when Ginny drew circles over it, how he could relax with the weight of her in his lap, the pleasure he felt as his smile grew more private in their times spent alone.
Rain dripped down the stone alcove, an entrance in one of the far west corridors. On the outside bench, Ginny leaned against Harry's legs, his hands curiously playing with the long strands of her hair. He loved running his hands through her hair when they kissed.
"Ginny," he murmured as she smoothed his messy hair back. She had also confessed her love for his hair the other day. It pleased him to know that the feature that caused his Aunt Petunia the most distress was admired by his girlfriend.
She rose on her knees. Carefully taking his crooked glasses off, she placed it on the bench next to them before kissing him again.
Happiness flourished inside of him. He could see it reflected in the brown of Ginny's eyes, the way he said her name again as they were pressed chest-to-chest. Oh, Merlin. He was so happy, and it nearly terrified him.
"What is it?" Ginny drew back, her mouth a brilliant pink.
"Nothing," said Harry. He stretched his legs out on either side of her and leaned forward so their foreheads could touch. "It's nothing."
vi.
"His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,
His hair is as dark as a blackboard.
I wish he was mine, he's truly divine,
the hero who conquered the Dark Lord—"
Harry ducked as the pillow sailed over his head.
"I was eleven!" Ginny armed herself with another pillow.
Harry made his next mistake by laughing harder.
vii.
A happy memory, Harry told himself. His hand automatically reached for Ginny's as everyone stood up. Dumbledore's funeral was over, and he was surrounded in a cloud of grief. The mourners moved in a thick crowd and he let Ginny lead him out. Think of something happy. But what his mind conjured was his immobile body as Snape cast the Killing Curse. Dumbledore's blackened hand. The weight of his prophecy becoming heavier around his neck. He needed to think of something happy to keep him afloat, to end the numbness.
But I'm drowning, he thought as the happy memory crumbled. All he could think was the death of his loved ones and the endless grief that will follow.
"Harry." Ginny touched the side of his face. Ron and Hermione were saying his name. This was the lifeline he needed so desperately to keep him above water.
"Yeah," he said, covering her hand with his. "I'm here."
viii.
"Remus, I think I'm falling in love with her," Harry admitted after the cake and presents were put away. He fiddled with the hole the Minister had created in his shirt, trying to keep himself from looking to where Ginny was outside. The Burrow's kitchen was oddly devoid of people in the evening, just him and Remus sitting by the table. He could hear the Weasleys, Hermione, and Fleur's family moving about and preparing things for the upcoming wedding.
Remus sighed. He placed a hand over his face. "Harry…"
"I know! We broke up and Voldemort's out for me, but I can't help it." The images of Harry running a hand in her sweet-smelling hair, Ginny's laughter lingering in the Quidditch pitch, kissing her one last time just hours ago… It was all slipping through his fingers so fast, and he was desperate to hold onto something before the inevitability of facing down Voldemort.
And it was Ginny.
Here in the quiet evening, the realization was as sudden as the sun slipping beyond the horizon.
He was in love.