A/N: This, of course, is a simple oneshot, and my first story. Little plot, mostly just some dialog, but overall, sweet.
Disclaimer: I didn't think of this stuff by myself, unfortunately. J.K. Rowling gets most of the credit, for the world and the characters of course (which most likely I've butchered). But hey, isn't that the great part about fanfiction?
on the subject of waiting
And she put on the necklace slowly, latching the tiny clasp around her neck before letting go of her red hair, perfectly curled and styled to Fleur's desire. Her eyes were vacant as she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Ginny Weasley bent down and slipped her feet into a pair of heels and fixed the sleeve of her pale gold dress robes.
It was the day of her oldest brother's wedding. The burrow was filled to the brim with home cooked food and champagne, but Ginny couldn't bring herself to leave her bedroom. There was a soft knock before the door was quietly pushed open.
"Fleur!" Ginny said, gathering her robes and scurrying to close the door. "You shouldn't be walking around the house. Bill could see you."
Fleur waved her hand dismissively. "I didn't know zat you were one for superstitions, Ginevra. I came to zee 'ow you were doing. Good, non?"
Ginny nodded and did a little twirl for the soon-to-be bride. Sure, Fleur could be absolutely horrible. She was spoiled and high maintenance and a million things that should make Ginny hate the woman. But Ginny had taken a liking to her. She was, after all, Ginny's first sister. And despite all of her fussing and demanding orders, she loved Bill more than any other woman ever could. She had underestimated the half veela in the past, undervalued her.
"Beautiful," Fleur cooed. She took a seat on the edge of Ginny's bed, careful not to mess her own ivory dress robes. She looked impeccable, from head to foot. "I love 'eet. And you are 'appy?"
"Of course. I should be asking you that. You're the one about to throw away a perfectly satisfying single life in order to marry my brother!" Ginny joked, laughing a bit as Fleur swatted her.
'I love 'eem. You know that, silly girl." Fleur responded. Ginny nodded in response, muttering a soft affirmation.
"Are you nervous?" Ginny asked innocently. She herself was nervous, and it wasn't even her wedding.
"Some. I am not worried about our Bill, or ze food or ze reception. I am worried about afterwards, ze years to come."
Ginny nodded, completely understanding that worry.
"I would too, you know. Bill's going to be a right sight when he's old and gray. I can't imagine waking up to that every morning," Ginny said, an impish grin on her face. She ducked as Fleur attempted to swat her again.
"I worry about you, Ginny," Fleur said, her face serious, her hands absently smoothing a minute wrinkle in the young girl's golden robes.
"I'm fine, Fleur. It's your wedding day," Ginny replied. Fleur remained silent for a moment, studying Ginny.
" 'Arry wishes to speak with you. 'E's outside now, waiting. I just needed to speak to you first, before I went…" she trailed off, and Ginny noticed for the first time that the woman was nervous. " 'Ow do I look?" Fleur asked, standing and straightening out her appearance.
"Perfect, Fleur. Absolutely perfect." Ginny kissed Fleur on the cheek and told her to send Harry in.
There was a slight knock on her door, despite the fact that Fleur had just exited and left the door open. But that was Harry, Ginny reasoned, always polite, never invading without permission, careful not to get too close. That was Harry, through and through.
"Ginny," Harry said as he walked in to her bedroom. He was clearly not ready for the ceremony that would be taking place in a couple of hours. He was still in muggle clothes, a pair of jeans and what looked to be a band t-shirt, one Ginny didn't recognize. She had to let out a chuckle when she noticed his hair was still sticking out at odd angles. Some things never changed with time.
"Hello, Harry. It's good to see you," she said politely, pulling him into a hug, which he readily returned.
"You look pretty," Harry said, sending her a smile. He ran his hand through his hair, mussing up the tufts even more before letting out a frustrated sigh. "Honestly Ginny, if I didn't know better, I'd think you were part-veela as well."
"How do you know I'm not?" Ginny said, her eyes glinting. Harry let out a chuckle and she joined him. "No, I wish. Although, you never seemed that enthralled with Fleur's beauty. Not like Ron was anyway."
"Yes, well, my thoughts of Fleur were strictly confined to my dreams, thank merlin," Harry replied swiftly, a boyish smile on his face.
"Ugh, Harry," Ginny groaned, chucking a pillow off of her bed at him, which he easily caught, the amused grin still on his face. "You're awfully forward, aren't you? I thought you'd been avoiding me." Ginny immediately regretted her words. It had been easy, the conversation between them. She had no right to change that.
Harry took a seat on the bed next to her but he didn't look her in the eye. Instead, he kept a respectable distance between them, his eyes glued to the mirror on the opposite wall.
"To tell you the truth, I was really nervous to see you. I didn't know what to say." He stopped for a moment before finally facing her, trying to keep a grin on his face but failing miserably. "I still don't, in case you hadn't noticed."
He played with the fringe on a spare pillow that had been resting on Ginny's bed. It was old, just like everything in her room was old, and yet Harry thought it suited her.
"I'm leaving today. I don't think I'll be coming back to school next year, if there even is a school," he said. His words hung in the air, suspended in the colossal cloud that hung between them. He was anxious, Ginny could tell. He was anxious and it scared her a little.
"I figured as much," Ginny said. She hadn't really. She had no idea what was going on with him or his life. Nevertheless, she felt compelled to act calm, to act unaffected, to act like she had no cares in the world.
Thank the heavens she was a talented actress.
Harry gave a sigh of relief, but the tension didn't quite seem to leave to leave his body. There was silence for a moment before Ginny prodded him in the side with her elbow.
"And…" she asked, expectantly waiting for another response. Perhaps a declaration of his affections, something, anything, to show her that he still cared.
"And, well, and I'm taking Ron and Hermione with me." Harry asked.
There was a pause, and the clinking of glasses and the tapping of shoes could be heard through her paper-thin walls.
"Come again?"
At least her question had come out calmly, Ginny reasoned. She had not been expecting that. That changed, well, that changed a whole world of things.
"I know you're probably angry, and you might just have a right to be-"
"I might?" Ginny raised her eyebrows, but refused to meet his gaze. If he felt that it was okay to let his best friends in on his life, but not his girlfriend, or ex-girlfriend, or whatever the hell she was, than that was just fine.
"Look, Gin-"
"Don't call me that," she interjected again.
"Okay," Harry paused before continuing. "Ginny, I need them with me. And I can't quite tell you what we're doing, but I assure you that it's very important, and if I could, I'd have you there in a heartbeat…"
"But you won't. This whole time, I had thought you had ended it with me because you were off to become the sole savior of the world or something of the sort. Instead, I find out you're willing to have your two best friends help you, but not the girl you care for!"
"It'll be dangerous Ginny," Harry argued, his voice rising in anger to match hers. He got up and walked to her dresser, fingering the hair ribbons faded pictures that were gathered on the dusty surface. He turned to look at her, and his insides curled. She sat on her bed, her cheeks flushed (something Harry had quickly learned while they were together that meant she was angry), her chin held high, her hair perfectly curled and her outfit immaculately placed, and despite the air of confidence, she looked almost like a lost child.
"So you'll have your best friends die, but not your girlfriend?" She asked, her eyes finally met his, and they had a blazing, wild look to them.
"Yes! Bloody hell, yes," Harry snapped, defeated. "I will."
Ginny was silent at his response, and they both could hear footsteps climbing the stairs outside of her room. Harry glanced at the open door, before walking over and closing it. When he returned, he calmly tried to put his thoughts together.
"I didn't mean it like that," he started, softly. He most certainly didn't, and Hermione would kill him if she knew he was even mentioning the possibility of anyone dying. "It's just…it's for purely selfish reasons that I want you here, and us not together. I don't want Ron and Hermione to come with me either, believe me when I say that, I don't. They just won't say no."
Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but he kept going anyway.
"And I know you won't either, but I'm begging Ginny. You said—you said at the funeral that I was leaving for a stupid noble reason. I am, and I know your decision not to argue then was because of your own stupid, noble reason."
"It was," Ginny agreed. "It was also me, thankful that I even had one minute being your girlfriend. I would have been an idiot to think it would last forever."
"No, no you wouldn't. Don't think that I care about you less, Ginny." Harry swiftly sat back down beside her. "Don't think that."
"What am I supposed to think?" She asked quietly, swallowing everything that she was feeling. "That you're leaving me because you don't want me to get hurt?'
"You know they'll use you against me. You know that probably better than I do."
"I know, I get it," Ginny agreed. The thought hadn't left her mind since she left Dumbledore's funeral. The funny thing was, she didn't care. She had been used once before, and she knew Voldemort wouldn't flinch at doing it again. But she wasn't young or naive or stupid anymore. She knew Harry, stupid, noble Harry, was a little bit right.
"I'm not going anywhere, you know," she said, looking at him, telling him in one look exactly what he had been asking for, hoping for.
"Thank you, Ginny." He pulled her in tight for a hug, whispering softly, "thank you."
The two of them talked like that, huddled together on her childhood bed in her faded room. She rested her head on his chest and they talking. Nothing too deep- Ginny knew Harry had had enough of talking about his feelings-but they spoke of things to remember each other by. Ginny drunk Harry in, from his casual mannerisms to his soft smile, she spent their little time memorizing the details. The big picture, she knew, she could fill in later.
"I never thought I'd stay on the home front for the war. But I suppose—I suppose it is harder than it seems," Ginny reasoned. She grinned. "Someone needs to keep mum and dad company anyway. Mum will have a fit when you and Ron and Hermione leave."
"Mmmh," Harry murmured, still deep in thought. "I know you're not one to sit back when you could be helping. I know that, and after-well, after Sirius, I never wanted to ask someone to stay put again." He licked his lips unconsciously, and turned on the bed so that he was facing her. "I told you before that I want you to stay home for purely selfish reasons, and I meant it."
Ginny looked at him curiously, noting the dark green tint to his eyes, the slight upward curve of his mouth, things that she knew she would soon miss so dearly.
"I want someone to write to while I'm away. And I want to know that you're at home, and that you're safe. And—and I want someone to think about every night before I go to sleep, someone to dream about," Harry said, his voice soft, with a shy demeanor to it. He looked up for her response, and was surprised when he found a mischievous grin on her face.
"Is Fleur not doing the trick for you anymore?" She said coyly, laughing a little as he playfully pushed her away before taking her hand in his.
"I'm not good with saying this stuff, but you're it, Gin. It's been just you for a long time now."
…
A few hours later, a beautiful woman kissed a scarred man in the waning sunlight behind the Burrow. The party lasted into the late hours of the night, with dancing and toasts and laughter and compassion gracing the summer breeze. And as Ginny rested her feet from dancing all night on the newly erected dance floor, she didn't fear the years that lay ahead. As long as there were nights like these, as long as there was affection left in the world, she didn't worry.
When Harry stood across the dance floor with Ron and Hermione behind him, a fierce look in his eyes, she didn't cry. And when they each raised their hand in goodbye, she raised hers back. He would come back; she knew it. Until then, they had letters and dreams. And she knew, one day, that he would return, and find her in the shabby, fading burrow, waiting for him until the end.