Author's note: Firstly, this is my first Harry Potter fanfiction, so please be kind. Constructive criticism is always welcome.
Secondly, a big shout out to my betas soulscarcity and hmweasley for their help. It is soo much better now, for your valuable inputs and suggestions and encouragement. Thanks to my friends WG(you have been ever so amazing), RR and AD.
So, here we go. And, please please read and review.
^_^
Chapter One
*Two years after the war (Christmas)*
By anyone's standards, the Burrow was as homely a place as it had ever been. The scent of Molly Weasley's cooking–roast beef and vegetables, warm cider, all flavoured by motherly love–wafted through the air and wrapped the world in warmth. Like a big, woolly blanket made out of food and affection.
The Weasleys, their respective spouses, and the 'honorary' Weasleys had gathered there for a Christmas feast, as they did annually. In years prior, Harry Potter had enjoyed these meals. To gorge oneself within the company of one's best friends, illegitimate family, and ex-girlfriend? It was more than Harry would ever have dared dream of as a child. The moments spent in said company had been unimaginable to his nine-year-old self, who had spent most of his holidays in his 'room' under the stairs and most of the 'family' gatherings upstairs in the attic, pretending not to exist. The food left out for him had been meagre portions of leftover bread.
He gratefully bit into a cracker as Teddy pulled Victoire's blonde locks, evoking another bout of wails. He would not have traded anything for these days. He steeled his resolve and tried, quite unsuccessfully, to convince himself that everything would be perfect.
But nothing was perfect.
"But what's wrong with me? Did I do something?" Ginny muttered to him, her fists clenched on either side of her plate. Her food was untouched. Harry wanted to throw up or run away. Or both. Harry forced his gaze onto her face, and he saw that her eyes were damp. Ginny stared back, her nose scrunched up, her face flushed with the effort to keep quiet. Harry noticed how beautiful the freckles on her nose looked against her milky skin. And in that moment, he wished that things were different and everything was normal again. "Where did we go wrong? Harry, you need to tell me… I still love you." Harry did not reply. He could not.
Why? Why, why, why didn't he save this for after the meal? Harry gulped. Although Ginny was very obviously trying to keep her voice down, to keep herself from causing a scene, her family had caught onto the tension between her and Harry. They watched on concernedly, awkwardly. Only Ron and Hermione–the only ones who were privy to Harry's "little secret"-looked on with sympathy.
Ron, the capital fellow that he was, tried feebly for a distraction..."The weirdest customer came in yesterday asking for..."
Harry whispered to Ginny, feeling as if he were under a spotlight. "Not here, Gin," he said quietly. "Please, can't we talk about this in, y'know, private?" he almost-pleased, nearly begging by this point.
Ginny began to pick at her food, hands trembling, as tears started welling up in her eyes. Harry forced himself to eat. He observed a little frown on his ex-fiance's mouth and wondered helplessly if she planned to make that expression for the rest of the meal. Most likely. Ginny wasn't the sort of person to do things halfway.
Sometimes that got tiring…
The Weasleys attempted to make normal conversation. So they ignored the telltale signs of a relationship falling apart and talked about Bathilda Bagshot's granddaughter who had recently joined the Department of Muggle and Magical Cooperation. Harry looked at Hermione and found her staring back with her big, brown eyes filled with concern. Of all that the magical world had given him, he realized that he appreciated Hermione the most.