Disclaimer... I do not own any of the characters. A.N. at the bottom.
Ginny marvelled at the fact that the Burrow had stayed the same. After everything, after the war, having to leave for Aunt Muriel's house and then going back to Hogwarts one last time- well. She expected that it would have changed too.
But no, it was the same as always. Sprawling and creaky with gnomes in the garden and a lazy ghoul that had gotten used to living in Ron's room.
Her bedroom was still small and bright, with moving Quidditch posters on the wall and Arnold the Pygmy Puff skulking round under her bed. Winter sunshine shone through the window and illuminated it all, the trappings of childhood.
She was so tired. After all that loss, she wanted to just curl up beneath her quilt and sleep for months. Ginny's body felt heavy and clumsy and cold. Her bones were lead and her blood was ice water. After that initial euphoria at the end, everything had just- plummeted.
It was like after a Quidditch match, when everyone was screaming and shouting and laughing with joy and nothing could touch you, until the next morning when the sun wasn't as bright and nothing glowed anymore. It was like that, but a thousand times worse.
The Burrow was stretched to bursting at the moment. After that last year of the war, where everyone was in hiding, nobody wanted to be apart. Harry and Hermione were here, of course, and Bill and Fleur were staying in Bill's old room. Andromeda had arrived by Floo, clutching baby Teddy to her chest with a sort of frozen shock that hadn't quite thawed into grief.
George had abandoned the apartment above the joke shop and was sharing his bedroom with Charlie. Even Percy was there.
The house should be noisy and full of laughter, but instead, all Ginny could hear was a sort of muffled silence. Like the sort you got on a snowy morning, when the entire world seemed silent.
Mum wasn't cooking furiously, or shouting at the gnomes. Harry just seemed- detached. They hadn't really tried to talk, and to be honest, Ginny was grateful. She didn't know if she could bear it.
Ron and Hermione were quietly grieving, but of course they had each other. But George. It hurt to look at him. He wandered the house with a lost expression. Every so often he would make a joke, or point something out and then grin over his shoulder. Then he would remember and the grin would freeze and slip off his face.
Andromeda lost herself in hours spent with Teddy, and she welcomed Harry to play with the baby and talk quietly. Ginny had entered the room they were in once, and what she saw on Harry's face as he watched Teddy, love and guilt and impossible grief… It seemed so private and raw that she left quickly, and returned to her room.
Ginny felt like something needed to happen, or else they would all just let themselves slip away under the January snow and freeze quietly to death. That something came in the form of a knock on her door.
She let out a silent sigh, before trudging over and twisting the cold doorknob. Harry stood there. He looked much older and his bright green eyes were strangely foggy and dim.
But he was there, and alive and while he was hurting and maybe broken, she was pretty sure she could find all the pieces and glue him back together if she took the time. She had time. So, she reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, like a flower reaching towards the sun and she pressed her lips to his.
Heat surged through her as one of his hands tangled gently in her long red hair and she didn't feel cold anymore. She was warm and alive with blood pumping through her veins and every cell in her body felt hyper-aware as he opened her lips gently, their mouths fitting together perfectly. It was familiar and strange all at once.
Finally they broke apart, gasping for air and staring at each other. "I've missed you" Harry murmured, gazing at her.
"You too" she gasped, breathless with hope, and love and wonder.
He looked awkward suddenly, and adjusted his glasses slightly, looking at his feet. "Er, can I come in?" he asked, and Ginny was horrified suddenly. He had just knocked on her door and she had practically molested him.
"Of course- sorry, it's a bit of a mess in here…" she trailed off with a cough to cover her embarrassment.
"It's ok" he said, still staring at her with something like wonder.
She backed into her bedroom, almost afraid to take her eyes off of him, in case he disappeared again.
Ginny sat on the bed, tucking her knees under her chin and watching with faint amusement as Harry approached her awkwardly.
"You can sit down" she said, taking pity on him, and reaching for her wand. She flicked it at the door, closing it softly.
"Are you allowed to do that?" Harry asked, "I mean- you're not seventeen yet"
"To be honest, I don't think anyone gives a damn"
"Er- right"
"What did you want to talk about?" Ginny asked after a moment of almost respectful silence.
Arnold the Pygmy Puff rolled out from under the bed, and she scooped him up, placing him on her shoulder.
"You still have him?" Harry sounded surprised.
"Harry. Don't try to stall"
Harry lifted his hand to his scar absently, before looking at her again. The watery sunlight coming through her small window reflected off his glasses, turning them to circles of shiny white light.
"I just needed to talk about anything" he told her finally, "with everyone else, talking about anything but the war seems sort of- I don't know, irreverent. With you… It doesn't seem like that. I feel like I can talk to you. I've always felt like that, honestly"
Ginny raised an eyebrow.
"Always? It seems to me that you spent the first few years of knowing me, hiding from me. Of course, the singing Valentine probably didn't help matters"
"His eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad" Harry quoted, laughing softly.
Ginny burst in to laughter, hiding her face in her hands. The laugh- it seemed to hold shape in the air, like a held breath. It filled her room, breathing life back into it. Into her. The released laugh warmed her chest, like she had swallowed liquid sunlight, and she looked at Harry, smiling.
It felt like a mask was cracking and falling from her face. It felt like things were going to be okay again. It felt like she was waking up.
A.N. I actually wrote this a while back, but I abandoned it halfway through. But after Harry Potter and the Cursed Child came out, I was motivated to finish it. It seemed sort of fitting, that as the Golden Trio and the Next Gen are still dealing with the aftermath of the war all these years later, the people who love the books are still coming to terms with it now. Thank you very much for reading, and pretty please review?