My little Harry/Ginny oneshot just to be a proud contributor to the billions if not trillions of Harry Potter fanfics out there (not just on I know there are heaps of spelling mistakes, but I'm busy tomorrow (/today, it's a little past midnight) and I'm away for the weekend, so I won't get to post for about 4 days if I don't post now.
Just warning you, this is a little sad... I wrote it and it made me cry three times, but then again I was listening to funeral music, so that could've been the reason.
Disclaimer: If I was JK Rowling, why would i be writing PotC and HSM fanfics? Just let me ask that. And as for Warner Bros and whoever els eown this, they're companies not people, so it's technically impossible for them to write this. even if I worked a WB (which i don't), I'd still ahve to disclaim this cos I wouldn;t techically be Warner Bros, so that doesn't really work.
I love you and I hate you for it…
The words echoed mournfully through Harry's mind as he lay in a restless sleep at The Burrow. After everything that had happened, everything that everyone had been through, they were the only words that he could even consider voicing. His silence was barely noticed by the grieving family that surrounded him, after all, everyone was silent these days; thinking, remembering, imagining what life could've been like if not for…
It didn't matter anyway. What had happened wasn't going to undo, and it was only human to let the feelings run through your body, overtaking you- numbing your senses, not letting you let go until the last moment when the final realisation dawned on you again and the whole thing came crashing back down on you. It was what everyone was feeling, but of course no one was ready to show it, or say it, or even truly acknowledge it, not until it was real; until then everyone was allowed to pretend that Fred, Lupin, Tonks and Colin, and even Dobby, Hedwig and Mad-Eye, and Dumbledore, Sirius, James and Lily too, and everyone else who had died for Harry was still alive. They were just running late, and would arrive at The Burrow in due course. Laughing and smiling like the people who they once were. The people who used to be there, but weren't anymore, and never would be again. They weren't people anymore; they were ghosts, shadows, whispers of lives that once were. And those whispers were the ones echoing through everyone's heads for that whole, long months after the Final Battle.
Harry started when he heard the door creak open and felt more than saw a small form enter his room (George was sleeping on the sofa downstairs, or at least, trying to sleep). He opened his eyes slowly, not wanting to have to face the idea that he was still there, in the cruel reality of his life that everyone besides him had died for. All that Harry needed to see was the glint of red hair and smell the distant flowery scent to know who had come.
Ginny sat down on his bed, somewhere near his hip and lay down next to him, the top of her head reaching his eyes. Hearing a small sob come from her, Harry instinctively moved his arm around her, resting his hand over her stomach and pulling her closer. She let herself be pulled into him, and held his hand in both of hers.
They lay there in silence; the young couple both in mourning on the single bed. Neither moved to be more comfortable, or questioned the others presence, it was a silent agreement that at that moment they needed each other: for whatever distant, subconscious reason they felt. The silence was so deep that Ginny's tears could be heard padding onto the pillow below her, occasionally accompanied by a sniff of hiccup. Soon, Harry's tears joined hers in soaking the plain white material, falling just as thick into Ginny's hair. She could feel the wetness of them pooling in her hair, but far from annoying her it comforted her; everyone was grieving; she wasn't alone in needing someone else.
Eventually the couple separated, Ginny sat up again and wiped her eyes, looking down at Harry with a sad smile. He wouldn't look at her straight on, keeping his emerald eyes fixed on the place next to him where she'd been lying before.
"Harry." Her voice was croaky and filled with tears, but it came out clear and worried. He didn't respond, and she felt more sadness erupt from her as a single tear fell from his eyes; a single drop of salty water on the dark pillow, showing up as a black stain. "Harry." She repeated, her voice clearer, louder and more confident this time. Slowly, his gaze shifted to hers, and just one looked from him showed her everything.
His eyes, once strong and shining, were now dull pools of greyish green, too deep to penetrate. They had an expression in them, one that Ginny couldn't quite make out. It was defeat. She drew back when this realisation dawned upon her.
"No." It came out softly, sadly, and accompanied by a cascade of tears. "No, Harry don't! It's going to be fine, we won!" Her voice grew shrill but stayed quiet as se pleaded with him. More tears streamed from her eyes when he shook his head. One small gesture of exhaustion, surrender and lost hope; to him there was nothing left but his own self. What should have been cast away as a rotting carcass long ago, but hadn't because other people had saved him. He didn't deserve to live, not after all of those others had died for him, died because of him. Ginny saw all of this go on behind his soulful eyes before he blinked and looked away.
"Harry, you're here, now. Nothing you do will change that." She said gently, her tears slowing as she tried to gain control again.
"I know that."
"All of those people. Lupin, Tonks, Sirius, Dumbledore, Hedwig, your parents, Fr-" she broke off, covering her face with her hands as a fresh wave of tears came. Harry turned back to look at her. He could see as each stage of her grief came and went. First sadness, then happiness, then acceptance, and finally a small stage of serenity, all in a matter of seconds. "Fred." He looked away again when she uncovered her face; her cheeks blotched with red and pale marks, and her eyes puffy and red. "They died for you. So that you could defeat him."
"No. It could've stopped at my parents, they could've done it and then no one would ever have had to die."
"But it didn't." Ginny insisted, reaching for his head and turning it so that he faced her. "It didn't happen how it could've, how it should've… but you can't change that, you can't bring them back."
"But I did." Harry said hopelessly, sitting up, his face inches from Ginny's. She wanted to move back, or look away, but there was a glint in his eyes that kept her still.
"Harry-"
"I DID BRING THEM BACK!" he yelled, his voice breaking the silence in the large house. "THEY WERE THERE ALL OF THEM, AND I LEFt THEM TO COME BACK!" Ginny shied away from Harry just as Ron and Hermione came rushing in through his door.
"Harry-" Ginny tried again, but again he cut her off.
"I TALKED TO THEM! THEY WERE RIGHT THERE, THERE WITH ME, AND THEY TOLD ME TO COME BACK! I LISTENED TO THEM-" his voice broke and he fell forward, tears suddenly streaming down his face. "I listened to them."
"It was so brave of you Harry." Ginny murmured, moving closer to him once she was sure his explosion had died down. "But think, why did you leave them? Was it really just because they told you to come back?" He looked up, his eyes flicking between Ginny, so small and delicate, but so much stronger than he was, Hermione, worry etched into her face, her hand clutching Ron's, and Ron. He was looking straight at Harry, such extreme pain and loss flooding his face that he looked more dead than alive. He'd lost so much, so much more than Harry had, yet he was still there; he wasn't defeated, shot down but confident to get back up; he had a life to live and enjoy.
"We were all so scared for you, so proud of you- you were so brave doing that Harry." Hermione said quietly, her gentle gaze fixed on his. "No one else could've done what you did. No one. Maybe that's why everything else had to happen." She added the last bit so quietly that Harry could barely hear her. He felt another stab of anger shoot through, but stayed silent, his face pressed into the sheets on his bed.
"You did it mate, and so many people thought it was impossible, but you did it, you defeated him, and you couldn't have done it without everyone else, they all played a part, even-" he broke off, looing down as a few tears dripped down his face.
"Even when they died." Ginny finished, more tears forming around her already exhausted eyes. "None of them died do that you could be like this, you didn't come back so that you could miss them." Harry slowly sat up, reaching out to Ginny beside him as he did; she gratefully let him pull her into his chest and hold her tight, both crying silently into the others shoulder. Ron and Hermione watched in silently, tears still falling down their faces too, as they grasped hands tighter than ever.
All four looked up when they heard footsteps outside the door. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley appeared, tired-looking, with big grey bags under their eyes, but their expressions weren't sad, they had finished their grief and were ready to move on; they still had six children to look after, even if four had already left home. George was behind them, his face with a similar expression to Ron's. He looked lost, his eyes, once sparkling with mischief and vigour, now dull and unsure. But despite in everything, behind all of the sadness there was a confidence, one that shone in every pair of brown eyes in that small bedroom.
Harry gazed around in awe, they were all so complete, so whole and full; he felt empty as who he was now was only a part of who he was.
"It's human to hurt Harry. It's human to feel guilty, ashamed, broken, but you can't live like that." Mr. Weasley spoke softly from the doorway, his arm around his wife's shoulders.
"Everyone wants you to live again, whether they can tell you or not, they miss you just as much as you miss them."
"But they don't get to live anymore. And it's because of me..." Harry argued, pulling away from Ginny to fix his gaze on her parents. George shook his head.
"You don't get it Harry, so let me spell it out to you." His bluntness made them all look up, including Ron and Hermione who'd been absorbed in their tears since the arrival of Ron's parents. "They're dead, gone, and there's nothing any of us can do about it. They didn't die to leave you sitting here missing them, they would've just stayed if that was their aim, right? They died so that all of us could live, and live to the full. If anything, they've showed us not to take our lives for granted, because even people who have so many reasons to live and so few reasons to die still do. It's part of living, life has no guarantee, or warranty, and now we know that you can't put a time limit on it. You were there, you watched Fred die, and you know how easily it could've been you or Percy or me. But we're all here, and he isn't, accept it. I have." The Weasleys and Hermione all nodded defiantly at the end of George's speech.
"He's right mate. Don't give up, you're still here, and so are we." Ron spoke up, his voice hoarse, but audible.
"You have so much to live for. Friend's," Mrs. Weasely indicated Ron and Hermione. "A family," she pointed to herself and Mr. Weasley. "And…" she trailed off, her hand raised towards Ginny.
"Me." Ginny said quietly, pulling Harry's face round to look at her. For a moment everyone waited, watching him hesitantly. Slowly, agonisingly, he nodded, and the tiniest hint of a smile broke out onto his face. Ginny returned it when she noticed a distant gleam in his eyes; it was happening, slowly but surely, he was recovering.
Shrugging Ginny's hand off his face and her arm off his shoulder, he stood and looked directly at Mr and Mrs Weasley.
"I'm sorry. So sorry. For everything. Absolutely everything that happened." They both smiled weakly.
"It was a fortunate day when you invited Ron to sit with you on the Hogwarts Express." Mrs Weasley choked out, a few scattered tears dripping to her cheeks.
"You have nothing to be sorry for." Mr Weasley agreed, nodding gruffly and trying to look confident, but the tears gathering on his eyelids gave him away and he looked down.
"Top bloke, you are." George agreed, holding out his hand pompously in a very good imitation of Percy. Despite themselves everyone let out a weak chuckle, including George himself, ignoring the tears pouring down his face freely and unashamedly.
"Regardless, I'm still sorry." Harry repeated, shaking his heads at everyone's immediate outbursts. "Such strong people like you don't deserve someone as weak and cowardly as me."
"Hear, hear!" George joked, more tears streaming down his face as he recognised the words from so long ago.
Harry nodded and went back to his bed, sitting down next to Ginny again and instantly hugging her tightly. Slowly, everyone began leaving, first Mr and Mrs Weasley, then George soon after, and finally Ron and Hermione, hands still clasped together.
Ginny pulled away and pushed Harry down to lie on his bed again, falling down next to him and burying her head in the crook of his neck. They lay in silence for a long time, the tears long since gone form their faces.
"You know," said Ginny after a while. "I think I can still smell gunpowder from when Fred and George used to live in here. Or maybe its just the memories of being here all that time ago. We used to spend so much time sitting here together, them and Ron and I, and just talk. For some reason it was always us four, we were the ones who got into trouble, we were the ones who stuck together. I remember when they went to get you from your aunt and uncle's when you were in second year, they'd been talking about it for ages and when they finally decided to do it I wanted to go with them so badly."
"Why didn't you?" Harry asked curiously, it wasn't like Ginny to run away from trouble.
"I think I was too scared of you. They were telling me that we'd have to sit alone in the back seat, all squashed close together… I think that was enough to scare me out of it." Harry laughed and wrapped his arms around Ginny tighter, pulling her further into his chest.
"You used to be so shy…"
"Subtlety's over." She muttered confidently. There was more silence as Harry stroked her hair gently, loosing himself in the softness and ease of the moment.
"I'm not sure," Ginny began, pulling away and looking Harry in the eye. "But I'm pretty sure I love you." He didn't look surprised; on the contrary a sad expression fell over his face. "What's wrong?" She asked worriedly.
"I've loved you for so long now, and I hate you for it." She looked startled, but stayed quiet to hear him out. "Everyone who I love, I lose. So I hate loving people, it's too painful, too hard to let go of them."
"Maybe it's worth the joy of loving them, even if you have to endure the pain of losing them. I'm not going to remember how sad I was about losing Fred, I'll remember how happy I was having him." Harry stared at her, how did she manage to make complicated things seem so simple, so easy? She smiled slightly at the confusion on his face. He looked so mature, but really, inside he was still only seventeen; no matter what he'd been through, he was still young.
Ginny decided to take his moment of confusion to her advantage, and quickly, without hesitation, pressed her lips to his, kissing him softly, comfortably, lovingly. He took a little while to react, but when he did he pulled her closer and returned the kiss, loosing himself in the blissful oblivion that ti offered, where the only thing that existed was her and him and their love and their kiss. It was wonderful. But too soon air became a necessity and they had to separate, both panting slightly and looking at each other in a sudden new way. They had their whole lives together, lives in which they could get married, have children some day, gets jobs, a house and live their lives again. Not start them again, but begin to begin to repair the damage, close the gaping holes in their hearts, but leave a small space as a reminder of the past.
"On that note…" Harry began, staring at Ginny in a new type of wonder. "I love you." He savoured each word as it slipped off his tongue, it felt so right, so final, so true. It was what kept hi together, and what would keep him together in the future.
Even when he eventually returned to Hogwarts, began to clean it up and rebuild the ancient building, even as Lupin and Tonks's funerals came and went, even as the Weasley family took one final moment to mourn as Fred's body was lowered into its place in their orchard and a small memorial placed over it, even as he watched Teddy Lupin grow up, saying his first words and taking his first steps with no one but his Godfather to witness them; lobe kept him going. Finally he had something, someone to live for, finally people depended on him, loved him, and finally he could love them back without a distant hatred looming on the horizon. Finally The Boy Who Lived could live again, and he didn't plan on wasting his third chance at life.
But for right then, he was content with lying on his bed with Ginny in his arms, her sweet smell filling his senses and her taste in his mouth. She was the beginning of his new life, and the reason for it. She was finally his.
Phew! That took a while. I know it doesn't really feel like it ended, but I was having a little trouble finishing it off (in case you didn't guess by the second last paragraph). This was one of the stories I said I'd write in my bio, so that's two down now (being this and First Time), I Want shoulld be finished by New Year's, like promised... but it might not be...
Plz, review if you did read, cos I'm completely convinced that no one read HP fanfiction and I don't think any one will read this and that'd be annoying and pointless, so please prove me wrong.
