1998

It wasn't that he found the ceiling interesting

It wasn't that he found the ceiling interesting. Nonetheless, Harry had spent a lot of time staring at the ceiling since the moment he woke up and had yet to find a reason to actually get out of bed. It was quite warm and comfortable where he was, and waking would probably bring on something bad. Probably. He was not inclined to think at all. All he knew was that his name was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived and Conquered. Pretty much everything else was fuzzy, though he honestly couldn't bring himself to care.

'Harry?'

The quietness in Ron's voice was the one that sent him up. 'What?'

He slid sideways to give Ron some place to sit. Ron was as dishevelled as Harry felt, and his eyes, like Harry's, didn't focus on anything in particular. 'Mum's looking for you.'

Harry's mood soured instantly. He had been avoiding the Weasleys save for Ron in the past few days since...it happened. Ron, apparently reading his mind, said, 'Well, not really Mum. It's Kingsley, though Mum wanted to talk to you after him all the same.'

Harry groaned inwardly, already knowing where this would lead. Kingsley was the Minister ad interim; he should have guessed not even a member of the Order could avoid politics altogether. 'Tell him—'

'Tell him yourself,' Ron interjected, 'Really, mate, about time someone drag you out.'

Harry, surprised by Ron's serious tone, took some time before replying, 'I didn't lock any of you out.'

Ron snorted. 'Yeah, and I'm sure Ginny's the one avoiding you.'

This time Harry sat up straight, glaring at Ron. 'What does Ginny have to do—'

Ron waved his hand, stopping Harry. 'Everything!' He glared back. 'You haven't talked to her ever since—since—'

'Fine!' Harry snapped, preventing Ron from saying it out loud. It would mean Ron was acknowledging it. It would seal the deal. 'It's not like I haven't been looking for her, is it?'

Ron stared at Harry with an unreadable expression. Harry leapt to his feet, wanting to find somewhere secluded and Ron (or Weasley)-free. He was barely past the threshold when Ron muttered, 'Bloody git, leaving my sister hanging like that.'

It took all of Harry's self-restraint not to yell back. Steeling himself, stomped down the stairs. He had no right, Harry thought bitterly, not after Ron and Hermione's seven years of dancing around.

—

She didn't expect to see him quite so soon. She had really wanted to, but after a few days of hoping and seeing no sign of him, Ginny had given up and convinced herself that it was not their time yet. She would allow Harry some time to be moody.

So when they did run into each other in an empty-classroom-turned-morgue (she had volunteered to check if they had left a body around, though she was not sure such thing was possible) Ginny was surprised that she truly didn't feel inclined to do anything. She had expected her practice of dodging him to be a mere excuse.

Harry felt the same way, judging from the way he kept avoiding her eyes. 'Er, hi, Ginny.'

'Hi.' He looked taller than the last time she had seen him before Bill and Fleur's wedding—or maybe it was because he looked skinnier than ever. His long and shaggy hair, the stubble on his chin, and the dullness in his eyes certainly didn't help.

She wanted to hug him, to hold him and tell him it was alright, that everything was settled and done. That it was not his fault, but this prat of a hero wouldn't be Harry if he didn't blame himself for...

Instead, she shook her head mentally as her eyes roamed on the room, more to distract herself from Harry than to accomplish whatever it was she was sent to do (not that it mattered with him in the room). The awkward silence hung over them like a wet blanket. She was half-glad and half-mortified when Harry muttered, 'How...how have you been? '

A lump formed in her throat as her eyes stung slightly. 'I'm alright,' Ginny mumbled, trying to concentrate on a spiderweb on the ceiling.

'That's good.' Even with her back to him, she could picture Harry vividly: not moving his mouth at all, his head hung, his hand absently ruffling his already impossible hair. He hadn't changed. He had just been giving into the darker part of his personality.

It hurt her so much that she still knew him well.

'I'm sorry.'

She finally turned and looked at him. 'What?' Ginny asked, surprised.

Harry's jaws hardened, though his eyes were undeniably soft when they locked with hers. 'I'm sorry.' His shoulders sagged. 'I had no idea—I should have talked to you sooner.'

Ginny's flabbergasted response was 'For what?', which caused him even more discomfort. Suddenly the events of the last few days crashed into her mind and she reached out to grab his shoulders, shaking him. 'How many times do we have to tell you that it's not your fault?'

He pulled back, staring at her harshly. 'You don't know—you have no idea—' His fists shook. 'If I had surren—'

'And what?' She snapped, 'And what would it have done?'

'That did it, didn't it? Killed Voldemort by my death,' He said venomously, his expression turning into something dark and foreign; it scared her that he could wear something like it. 'That was Dumbledore's grand plan all along. The Chosen One.' He snorted mirthlessly. 'The Boy Who Lived to Die.'

The dam broke. The anger and sorrow that had been buried since the Battle exploded within her and she had to fight the urge to just go up and slap him. 'So that's it?' she spat as his eyes widened slightly. Hers were starting to blur with tears. 'You have no idea what it feels like—the Carrows, Snape—not knowing whether you were alive or dead! And you—you even faked it!'

Harry opened his mouth, startled. 'Ginny—'

'You want to die? Go ahead, see if I care!' She looked away, not wanting to see the hurt in his eyes. 'Dammit, Harry, why can't you be happy about being alive?' She yelled, storming out blindly.

How dare he...How dare he, after Remus, Tonks, and...

Fred...

2010

Harry had to strain his ears to hear above his pounding heart. He took deep breaths to calm himself down. He was under the Invisibility Cloak, true, but he was fairly certain that someone as insane as Rookwood would love Flourish and Blotts' too much to not damage it a bit. Harry swore mentally as Rookwood's heavy steps got closer to his little corner; he still didn't have a plan that didn't include charging into the fray and getting caught off guard himself—

'O, Potter, hiding again?' Rookwood called, his voice was a bit faint. There was still considerable distance between them, at least. 'That's your favourite act, isn't it?'

More steps, this time fading out. A little more, he thought. A little further, then he'd step away from his hiding place and nail Rookwood before he was even aware...

Rookwood's steps echoed louder. Harry swore inwardly. 'I say, how did you kill the Dark Lord again? Pure luck, wasn't it? You never were worthy of his attention, Potter. Relying on myths—the Chosen One, pah—and your little band. Take them away and what do we have here, a cornered Potter.' His voice drifted away again.

Harry wondered if it was a standard for Dark wizards to coax the heroes into things by belittling them even though it never worked. If anything, Dark wizards always snapped when he, Harry, used the same method on them. Must be overcompensating, he reflected as he drew himself erect. Rookwood kept going in and out of the basement without any apparent intent on randomly attacking the room anytime soon, so by the time he was back inside again, Harry would—

'I'm curious, Potter. You went and get yourself a pureblood, made her pop some pureblood rascals—get my drift? Trying to purify your line, eh? Wise move. Or not.'

Rookwood was getting alarmingly louder, and this time he wasn't the only one making noise. There was someone else along with him yelling, 'I'm this close to Crucio-ing you, you twerp!' There was someone else saying faintly, 'More trouble than they're worth.' What got Harry's attention, and immediately made his heart jump to his throat, was the familiar cries of, 'Mummy! Wake up, Mummy!' and 'Daddy will kill you!' They sounded just like Lily and James.

'Your spawn, Potter, are annoying, as you can tell,' Rookwood said loudly. For one slow second Harry's brain froze with dread and all thoughts of jumping on Rookwood vanished. Rookwood had his children with him. 'Why're we standing in darkness? Here.'

Harry's eyes watered as a bright flash blinded him and lit up the space. What he saw after his eyes adjusted was worse that he could have imagined: Ginny, only half conscious and in Crabbe's tight hold—a part of him screamed, that's my wife you're holding! Goyle, meanwhile, held James and Albus around the neck and Rowle had Lily, Rose, and Hugo Incarcerated. Adrenaline was re-issued and Harry had to put every power he exercised over his mind to keep himself from cursing the Death Eaters or to forcefully seize his family from their hands.

'Hm, hm, we even have the half-breeds.' Rookwood sneered, approaching Rowle and sneering at Rose, who whimpered. 'Your mother gave us quite the trouble, so I'd suggest you to take it like a good kid.'

'You won't get away with this!' James wheezed, his face red from struggling against Goyle's beefy arm. 'Dad'll get yo—oofhck!'

Harry bit his lip so hard he could taste something metallic on it.

Rookwood walked up to James and flicked his forehead. 'Tch, you're a lousy father. Teach your brats some manners, Potter.' He turned to Harry's general direction, as if he had known perfectly where Harry was. 'Which one, Potter? The wife or the kids?' He said lazily, pointing his wand at Ginny and James as he spoke. 'Can't get them both. Or any of them. Ha!'

More than anything in the world, Harry hated how Rookwood was completely correct, and he hated his logic for affirming this. He might be able to deal with at least two of the goons before the other two did something to him or their hostages. If only Ginny was conscious...

He had to do something soon before Rookwood decided that he didn't need that many hostages...

His wife, or his kids? How was he supposed to even choose?

His hands were shaking in protest...

All of a sudden, a battle cry snapped Harry out of his reverie while surprising the ex-Death Eaters. Ron charged in, wand ready after having just fired a Stunner at Rowle, and another at Goyle, who ducked. Harry seized this opportunity; he silently sent a Stunner of his own to Crabbe. Crabbe dodged the first one, though the second one hit him squarely in the face. A shriek from behind made Harry turn around, which was a big mistake as Goyle's thick arm suddenly descended on his skull. Stars blurred Harry's vision and his breathing was nearly cut off when he was hoisted above the ground by the neck. To cap it all off, someone had snatched his wand. From his perspective, he could see that Ron was duelling Rowle and that the children were freed from his grasp, but were for some reason reluctant to leave the fighting men. Harry was about to yell at them for not running away when Crabbe spun around so that he was facing Rookwood's hideous pockmarks, now with the ex-Death Eater holding Ginny in one hand and his wand on her temple. Harry glared at his maniacal face.

'That's a clever stunt your lackey pulled.' He nodded to the direction of Ron, who was, from the sounds of it, still duelling Rowle. Harry wasn't sure—his vision had started to darken and his ears were mostly ringing—but he could have sworn Ginny had just winked at him. 'I really should just kill all of you—'

Rookwood didn't even make a sound when Ginny's ankle connected with his groin. She followed it up by taking his wand and casting the fastest Stunner Harry had ever seen on Rookwood. Harry, followed her lead, he bent his knees and kicked Crabbe in the abdomen. Crabbe doubled over, enough for Harry to slip away as Ginny's Impedimenta Jinx hit him. Harry took his wand from Crabbe's clutch, casting a Stunner at him and another at Rookwood just to be sure. Ron's roar of 'STUPEFY!' and the heavy thud that followed, told him that it was over, though the hair on Harry's neck still stood out and anti-adrenaline still hadn't kicked in. Ginny went straight to the children, who wailed and clung to her. Harry forced himself to turn around to check on Rookwood, Crabbe, Goyle, and Rowle. He was bending over Rowle when a small mass attacked him from behind. He stiffened, though he quickly recognised it as Lily and hugged her with all his strength. She was crying and whimpering.

It took him a while to notice that tears had begun to fall from his eyes.

Albus and James suddenly joined the hug. 'See, I told him you'd come for us,' James whispered.

Something within Harry squirmed and writhed. Especially when Ginny put her arms around them.

--

Harry entered their room at precisely the first stroke after midnight. Ginny sighed in relief—she could only stay up so late and read or write articles before everything turned into a jumble of black, occasionally parsed as "sod'em." All thoughts of sleep were forgotten once she got a good look at Harry's face. The sombre face which she had seen him wear for a week whenever he thought she wasn't looking.

Ginny sighed, set her paper down and sat on the bed. She motioned for Harry to sit next to her. He obliged, his baggy eyes slightly widened. Ginny took Harry's hand into her lap, rubbing it gently.

'I think it's about time you tell me what's wrong,' she said, carefully observing Harry from her peripheral vision. His hand flinched, though he didn't withdraw it as his shoulders sagged. Harry leaned back on the bed stand.

'Where do I start, Ginny?' He mumbled. 'It's just that we've been running all over Britain lately, sniffing them out and there's no luck.' He messed his hair with his free hand. 'Still haven't found Dolohov yet. Jenkins believes we'll find them cowering in a cottage somewhere.' Harry snorted. 'Makes sense, if the cottage is somewhere on Christmas Island.'

Ginny pursed her lips. Harry, taking the cue, exhaled wearily. He tugged Ginny closer so that her back was to his front as he wrapped his arms around her. 'It's nothing, really, I'm just tired.'

'Hmm. So am I.' She craned her neck slightly to look at him. 'But I think there's more to it than that.'

Harry didn't answer and averted his eyes. Ginny grimaced. 'It's been a week, Harry. What is it that you can't tell me?'

She could practically see his teeth grinding. Harry finally looked at her. 'You were unconscious at the time. It doesn't matter anyway.'

'Oh, it does,' she grumbled, 'considering that you're still thinking about it. Don't.' Harry closed his mouth obediently. 'Don't tell me that you're just anxious that some of them are still free.' Ginny twisted her body around so that now they were face to face. 'What did Rookwood say?'

Harry frowned. When he answered, 'The usual. Taunts. Threats,' it was with a very slow and careful tone as well as not quite meeting Ginny's eyes.

She resisted the urge to hiss. 'That's standard Death Eater talk, Harry,' she pressed, staring sharply, 'Did he say something about me?' Harry nodded minutely. 'Let me guess, the usual pureblood pollution? Or did they finally get creative? You have to tell me if it's that case.'

Harry's head snapped up at Ginny's joke. 'That's not funny,' he said, so sharply that Ginny was taken aback, 'do you really want to know? Fine. He told me to—to choose—' Harry waved aimlessly, '—choose you or the kids. Choose who got to live.' He withdrew his arms from her. She spun around to find his throat tightening and his eyes downcast. When she reached out he shrunk further. 'They got all of you tight, and I...I should—'

Ginny managed to get his hand. He didn't take it away. 'Who did you choose?' She said carefully.

Harry averted his eyes. 'Does it matter? I chose. That's the problem.'

The silence was rather thick before Ginny replied, 'If it ever comes to that again, choose the kids.'

Harry's eyes were so near to bulging out of their sockets that, in any other situation, it would have been funny. As it was, Ginny pressed on, 'The kids, Harry, not me. They.' She swallowed (where had that lump come from?). 'They still have years before them. I—I'm quite content with my life.'

Harry stared at her, stunned, 'No.' He was practically growling.

She became irrationally enraged. 'What do you mean, no?' Ginny shifted away from Harry, glaring at him. 'And anyway I won't be unconscious the next time—'

'I meant,' Harry interrupted quietly, 'that I will save all of you.' She blinked. His lips twitched. 'Didn't I tell you that I refuse to attend anymore funerals? At least, the unnatural ones.'

Ginny's lips thinned. She crawled to her side of the bed. 'Maybe not, except your own.'

'Ginny—'

She shut her eyes. Harry didn't continue his sentence. A few moments later, Harry swore softly as she felt his weight leave the bed. It felt like an eternity before Harry returned. Even then, Ginny was painfully aware of his every movement: that he shifted ever so slightly every five minutes, or that he was always careful not to move too much and disturb her. A part of her kept saying 'this is ridiculous'; another part reasoned that she was tired and needed her sleep; the other part laughed at that too, because she knew she definitely wasn't getting any sleep that night.

Neither did Harry.

In the morning, they both acted as though they had had a good night's sleep and that the previous night's conversation hadn't happen. They were busy, she told herself. They were busy, him with his position as the Deputy Head of Aurors and her with the Quidditch World Cup coming up. Plus, they were still recovering from the incident.

It was becoming a mantra.

20??

'I was wondering when you'd show up.'

Harry smiled weakly. 'Can I retrieve my wife now?'

Ginny didn't reply. It was a rather cold night, and they would probably need more blankets. Harry had only brought one blanket and nothing else warm besides himself—it seemed rather appropriate for the occasion.

He also brought two pillows.

'It's not your fault,' Harry said after a lengthy silence.

Ginny frowned.

'It's yours as much as it is mine,' Harry continued, kissing the top of her head, 'we...we both failed him.'

Ginny stared straight at the wall, where a map of the Ministry was tacked on. 'I know.'

Harry rubbed her shoulder. 'We'll get out of this alive, all of us,' he murmured, 'We'll get him back.'

'What if—if he doesn't...' Ginny swallowed. 'Doesn't want to...' Ginny gave a shuddering sigh, rubbing her damp eyes. 'Oh, Harry...this is Al. He always stands by his word. Remember.' She sniffed. 'About the Blast-Ended Skrewt which wound up in Grimmauld Place? We had been meaning to send it to Hagrid—'

'—but Albus wouldn't have it, because he wanted to study and have it as a pet,' Harry reminisced (where had the time gone?). He laid back on the sofa. 'Then there's the Ashwinder—what did he call it?'

The sofa was cramped with the both of them trying to sleep on it, not that either of them cared. 'Falcinator,' she said, wrinkling her nose at the memory of the Ashwinder that nearly burned their house down, 'I still don't know why. It died precisely five minutes after Albus had named it.' Ginny sighed. 'Have you talked to James?'

'He promised not do anything that he was not briefed for.'

'Harry, that's...never mind. Did you tell him, and really beat it into his head, that he hasd to at least think before acting?'

'I threatened to Imperio him to it,' Harry replied nonchalantly. Ginny didn't stiffen; good, because as soon as he had said that Harry felt like he had just put his foot into his mouth.

She countered, 'Don't be silly. He would know that you wouldn't actually do that.'

He smiled slightly. 'Got the point across.' Again, Harry hugged her. 'No one's going to die.'

She turned slightly, giving him a long, hard look, which he returned. Finally, she said, 'We should get some sleep.' Ginny turned around, laying next to him and bunched up against the sofa.

Harry closed his eyes. He was almost asleep when Ginny said, 'Promise me you'll live for me.' She sounded so faint he wasn't sure it wasn't a part of his dream. Despite that, Harry found himself replying in a heartbeat.

'I will if you will.' She turned around until their eyes locked again. Harry tried to send all that was unsaid through his gaze. 'No longer two, but one,' he murmured, repeating their wedding oath.

Ginny smiled, snuggling even closer to him. The prospect of tomorrow was slightly more bearable.