This one is strictly canon. I could have paired Dramione but then it will be a longer story so: no.
I was in a crappy mode a few months ago when I had written this. So voila, angst...I think. It's not that sad enough to be angst but oh well.
Genre: Angst-Romance
Time: Post-war (A week or two after the Battle)
Tbh, this was supposedly a multi-fic, but I don't even know. I suck at continuing things so this is a one-shot for now.
I apologize if you don't understand the first part because opps even I don't understand it.
Cheers and Happy New Year darlings,
Echo
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter...Ginny does.
What You Need
Knock knock.
Twist.
Creak.
Uhm.
Close.
Click.
Squeak.
Step.
The wood creaks under her muddy shoes, and he looks up to see her, all broken and wounded.
hours ago:
Ginny Weasley's shoulders shook violently as tears glided across her face, betraying her strong persona. She had been sitting by the lake close to the Burrow, trying to get the rocks to skip on the water at least once. Harry had known how to do it, she thought bitterly before dropping the rocks as a sign of hopelessness. She hugged herself tightly as the autumn winds ran over her pale freckled skin and let the tears drip slowly onto the rippling lake waters.
"You're such a weakling, Ginerva Weasley," Ginny said, laughing bitterly to herself as she tried to wipe away her tears.
The war had affected her. Heck, it affected everyone. Yet it's affect on Ginny had been deep; like a cut that would ensure a scar in the future. It would not ever be healed, yet it wouldn't cause any more pain; only reminders—reminders of what had happened.
But Ginny did not want that. She needn't be reminded of the war. She needn't be reminded of the deaths; of Tonks', Remus', Fred's, Colin's and all the other's deaths. All she wanted now was…was…
She didn't know. Ginny had always been sure and determined to get what she wants. Months before, all she wanted was the war to finally end. But now that has already happened, she didn't know what she wanted anymore.
Mum and Dad were doing their best to get everyone's spirits up but how can one help others accomplish something even they cannot accomplish themselves? Ron and Hermione seemed fine yet the dark circles under their eyes told another story. Ginny had remembered hearing Hermione crying her heart out at Ron one night; mentioning something about nightmares. She had not minded them much though. It sounded selfish, but Ginny would disagree. They had each other to be with. There was no point in adding more sugar on a sweet.
George on the other hand had been in such a state. Ginny could not bear to see her brother that way. No traces of happiness could be found on her once complete brother. It was as if a dementor had sucked out all the remaining joy and hope found in him. His weight had been decreasing alarmingly and the bags under his eyes made him look as if he was punched daily.
Ah yes, punched is the word; punched by death who took his other half away, thought Ginny bitterly. The shop that used to be his and Fred's pride and joy had been shut down ever since. It had been a symbol of their achievement. But now that Fred was gone, George couldn't see the point of it anymore without his twin.
Angelina Johnson's visits had been more frequent nowadays. She had put it upon herself to be responsible of George's well-being ever since she had found him staring off into space once. He had reminded Angelina of a lifeless body sitting in an upright position; she hadn't liked the sight.
I guess even George has someone. Ginny's eyes prickled with tears once again, though this time she had not quite understood why. She bit the inside of her lower lip to stop another round of tears before the reflection of the Burrow on the lake caught her eye.
There was a movement somewhere in the house. There hardly ever was nowadays due to scent of war still lingering in the house. That home used to be scented with the smell of her mother's cooking and the experiments gone wrong by the twins; key words being used to be.
Ginny turned her head and found a silhouette of someone she knew behind the curtains of a window. The figure seemed to contemplate whether or not to reach out for the curtains and push them aside to look out, but hesitated once his hand was an inch away from them. The figure faced his back to her and Ginny knew instantly who it was.
No one could ever have hair as mop-like as his.
She stared back at her reflection on the lake and sighed. "If that was a sign from the fates, I wish they knew it was a pretty shitty and unimaginative sign."
And so she stood up, looking at the soft orange glow from the dawning sun before turning to the Burrow, ready to face whatever drama or awkwardness to come.
review please and tell me what you think xxx
oh and as usual: Should I continue this or what?
