A/N: It seems slightly impious that the Muses decided to interrupt a Good Friday observance with this plot-let. I know, it's terrible; I can't write much of anything well, but romance is entirely out of my league. But, I would still be much obliged if you reviewed and told me exactly what you think and where, specifically, I can improve. Oh, yes. I do not own Harry Potter; the person who does has demonstrated through its ending that she does not deserve to own it, and therefore we fanfiction writers are left to pick up the pieces. Pax Dei Tecum.
'Vot is the point of being an international Quidditch player if all the good-looking girls are taken'. Harry breathed an inward sigh of relief at Viktor's lack of continued interest and tried his best to amuse himself for the remainder of the wedding-party, being careful to take further doses of polyjuice every hour. He danced with Ginny once and Hermione three times before sitting down to a very interesting chat with Elphias Doge and Great-Aunt Muriel in which a number of astonishing allegations were made against the late headmaster Albus Dumbledore.
Harry was looking across the pavilion with a somewhat jealous gaze toward Viktor, who had asked Ginny for a purely friendly dance when the whole party was thrown into chaos by the sudden arrival of an enormous glowing white lynx, announcing the death of Minister Scrimgeour. He immediately searched the room to find Hermione and rushed over to her. Ron quickly disentangled himself from a conversation with his aunt and together they disapparated to who-knew-where.
Having returned the Elder Wand to its place in the tomb of Albus Dumbledore, Harry wandered along the shore of the Black Lake, contemplating his next move. The war was over and, wonder of wonders, he had survived. This was an eventuality he had never anticipated even in his most optimistic moments (of which there were very few, a wry voice in his head added, sounding oddly like Hermione). He had, therefore, never given any real thought to what he would do after the war. His future had always been measured in days, not years. Let alone decades. But now he was presented with the prospect of a whole life to live.
He smiled when he reached the point where he and Hermione had waited under the eaves of the Black Forest with Buckbeak, and saw where he had driven back a hundred dementors to protect his newfound godfather. He looked out across the lake and a particular tree caught his eye-a place where he and Ginny had spent several happy afternoons in his sixth year. That was it! He would go and see Ginny!
He took off at a run around the lake, only slowing as he passed a few more memorable locations-the point where he had come out of the water after the Second Task in the Triwizard Tournament, the Quidditch Pitch, and the place where Viktor had confronted him about Hermione, to name a few. Speak of the devil, there was Viktor now; as he entered the Great Hall, Harry noticed and nodded to Viktor, who was standing in the entryway comforting someone after the battle, but quickly looked away as he sought out Ginny.
Hermione, he saw, was trying to help Kreacher triage the House-Elves who had been injured in the Battle, while Ron was helping Luna recover from the Cruciatus. But where was Ginny? He turned to ask Viktor. But wait. There was something familiar about the witch in his arms. It couldn't be… He looked more closely and realized it was. Ginny. Her red hair was almost impossible to mistake. He approached them, seething with anger towards Krum.
Before he could draw his wand, though, Ginny noticed him. 'Oh, hi, Harry; how're you holding up? I can't believe it's all over, can you'? Ginny was many things, but stupid was not among them, and she soon noticed his meaningful glance at the wizard holding her. 'I assume you remember Viktor, Harry? He joined the Order shortly after the wedding last summer and has been a great help with the DA'! When this failed to placate Harry, she sighed and asked, 'What do you want? He's my boyfriend; he can hold me if he wants'. Harry nearly exploded with rage, but Ginny beat him to it.
'What did you think I was supposed to do, Harry? You broke up with me last year and I was heartbroken! There hasn't been anything between us since Dumbledore's funeral; you had no right to expect me to just sit and do nothing for all this time'!
Harry nearly choked on his anger, which had now turned to bitterness and sorrow. He stormed off up the steps toward Gryffindor Tower, where he hoped he might be able to get some sleep. As he waited for one of the staircases to swing back into position for him to continue, hot tears began to trickle down his cheeks. He finally collapsed outside a spare classroom a short distance from the Fat Lady, where he broke down and cried.
Soft footsteps approached. A familiar feminine voice remarked drily, 'Not the position you'd expect from the Savior of the Wizarding World'. She knelt before him and asked softly, 'What's the matter, Harry? It's over. He's dead. He can't take away your loved ones any more'.
'No. But Viktor Krum can. While we were off hunting horcruxes, he joined the Order and romanced her'.
'Oh, Harry'. She reached over and hugged him. She knew who he meant instinctively. As she tried to comfort him, her thoughts were cast back a year to a time when Harry had tried to comfort her in the classroom next to them.
'I don't know what I was thinking; I broke up with her over a year ago. There was never any mention of what would happen later. I shouldn't have expected anything of her. I suppose in a sense it's my fault-'
She cut him off. 'It is NOT your fault, Harry; stop saying that everything is your fault! It's her fault. She expected you to stay faithful on the horcrux-hunt; you know she did. She specifically told you on your birthday not to go getting involved with any beautiful Veela you might encounter on your journey. She expected fidelity from you, and you gave it to her. But she didn't love you enough to return the favor'. She sat there comforting him for most of the night, finally packing him off to bed shortly after sunrise.
Three weeks later found Harry struggling to carry an enormous painting up a Hogwarts staircase. He had taken the first available opportunity to clear Snape's name before the Wizengamot, but only now had anyone gotten around to making sure a portrait could be hung in the Headmaster's office-since he did not formally resign as headmaster, but was not acting as headmaster when he died, no portrait had appeared there automatically, but the Wizengamot had agreed with Harry that he deserved to have his portrait hung in the office.
'Careful, Potter; you're going to scar my frame'. His voice didn't become any more pleasant after his death, and Harry winced at the scathing tone. 'Look, Potter; you're alive and can move about without someone lugging an enormous frame around for you. The Dark Lord is dead, and I'm sure the wizarding public is more than prepared to give you all the attention you want. What in the name of Merlin do you have to be upset about'?
'Who says I'm upset'? grunted Harry.
'I do', replied the silky voice of the former Potions Master. 'Your expression is vacant, your movements clumsy, and your overall demeanor stupid. Moreso than usual, I mean. The one redeeming factor about your appearance, your eyes, have been robbed of their usual fire'.
Harry rolled his eyes and informed the two-dimensional Headmaster of Ginny's behavior. 'After seeing her behavior during your fifth and sixth years, you seriously expected her to remain faithful to you when you weren't even there? You must be even more foolish than I had thought. In any case, I can't imagine Molly Weasley was terribly pleased that she lost the opportunity to have the Boy-Who-Lived for a son-in-law'.
Harry chuckled as he gave the password to the statue outside the headmaster's office. 'You should have seen her. As soon as I found out, I went and talked to Hermione. The next day, it looked like a second Battle of Hogwarts had broken out when she and Molly went after Ginny'.
Although Harry could see very little of the portrait he was carrying, an observer might have noticed a curious expression come over the face of the greasy-haired professor. 'Really? You say you went to talk to Miss Granger first'?
'Well, I went off to mope, and she came along to comfort me, but it all works out the same in the end'.
'I see. You don't think it means something that the first (and quite often only) person you turn to when you encounter difficulties is Miss Granger? Or that she immediately senses when you've had an upset and comes along to comfort you'?
Harry sat down in one of the chairs in the headmaster's office and pondered this for a few minutes. 'Potter, I'd be obliged if you propped me up in such a way that I could see more than just how dirty the headmaster's rug is'.
Harry got up slowly and hung the portrait on the wall next to the picture of Dumbledore. 'Well'?
Harry didn't answer directly. 'What about Ron'?
'What about him? The fool has deserted you on more than one occasion when you needed him most. I don't see why you should particularly care. But I suppose in that respect you are rather like Lily. She always forgave me when I did something to upset her.
'In any case, I think you should probably be more observant, Potter. From what I've been told, he was far more interested in seeing to it that Miss Lovegood was all right after the battle than in Miss Granger'.
Harry thought for a moment. 'Well, surely she doesn't feel the same way about me'! The portrait raised his eyes towards heaven as though praying for patience to deal with the child before him. At this interval, Dumbledore interrupted.
'Harry. Young master Weasley himself hit on it when he said, "You choose him". She's always chosen to help you, regardless of any and every other consideration. She stayed with you when no one else would. Don't you think that means something'?
After a few minutes sitting looking shell-shocked, Harry leapt to his feet. 'I've got to tell her'! He ran toward the steps leading out of the office. Just before he reached the door, he turned to where the Snape portrait was looking at him with an odd expression. On anyone else, it would merely have indicated indigestion, but someone who knew of the shortcomings of the facial structure of Severus Snape might correctly have deduced a hint of amusement.
'Besides, Potter; which sounds more suitable in bed? "Oh, Harry"! or "Honestly, Ronald"'!