Generally, I keep my Harry Potter fanfics to myself, but I was in a sad mood and wanted to write something to cheer myself up! This is Harry and Ginny, a few nights after the final battle – and it's so…Aw!
Please, no nasty comments…I'm just a little fanfic writer who likes soppy romance fictions! With a bit of angst thrown in…oh, but please review! Just a fanfic written on a Sunday evening when I should be doing my homework, but I'm really daydreaming about Harry and Ginny. Enjoy!
Disclaimer – Harry and Ginny aren't mine. Sob!
"Where're you going, Harry?" Hermione's voice rang from somewhere above him.
"For a walk." He said shortly, and shut the door behind him. The common room was darkened, the light of the moon casting a vague glow across the crimson floor. He walked, through the portrait and into the corridors, and let his feet carry him away. He had no motive – he had no reason. He just knew he had to walk.
Everywhere was deserted at the midnight hour. Harry was neither surprised nor expecting anything less – if anything he was contented with walking alone. He was isolated from everyone around him anyway – it mattered not if he was accompanied. A hollow, empty feeling had seemed to swallow him, and now his head was swimming with emptiness and loss of inclination. There was nothing – and he had to walk.
He did not know where he was planning to go, nor did he cast an eye to his surroundings. His clothes clung to him, battered and worn, and yet he could not muster up any will to change them. No, everything had left him. It was all over, and it was only now that things could begin. But he was still trapped in the past, and in distant memories that were washing away like a tide to the sand, dragging everything he had once held dear into the unreachable depths. But still, he had to walk. He had nothing else to do. He had little else he wanted to do.
It was only when he walked down a corridor with a blank wall at one end did he stop abruptly. He gazed at it, bewildered and with longing, like he should know what was there. He began to approach it apprehensively. The wall came closer, until it had almost touched him on the nose. He raised his scarred hands, and pushed on the grand oak door. He was not surprised when it opened. He had had to walk. Surprise had deserted him. Just like everything else.
His eyes glazed the landscape. It was dark, but the mountains were still visible, and the lake lit by the moon's eerie glow. There was a path ahead of him, and rain fell about him freely and mockingly. And there he saw her. And there was no turning back.
There was a girl in the centre of the path. She was knelt, bent forwards, and she was crying silently into her hands – her back was to him. Vivid red hair, a sunset alight with flame and passion, fell down her back. Her skin was pale, and her clothes were torn and ruined. She simply knelt, crying, oblivious to everything. His eyes wouldn't leave her. They simply couldn't leave her. He did not why she was there, nor did he attempt to approach her. He had to watch her.
He remained motionless, watching her cry into her hands. He could feel memories flooding back towards him, but they were halted by some barrier in his head. For a brief, frightening second, he forgot her name.
And then it returned to him, crashing through his mind and tumbling into view. Nothing could compare to that beautiful word – that meaningful, passionate word that summed up everything he had once held dear.
Ginny.
The girl raised her head from her hands, looking straight forward to the far mountains, trembling and shuddering in grief. Her hands, young, fragile and dainty, gripped at the floor then relaxed, half bereaved, half angry. There was silence as the girl stared ahead, like her life depended on it. His insides ached with every inch of longing and heartbreak he had ever known.
Why? Why have you come?
The girl's voice came in his mind, shaky yet accusing, exquisite yet so full of hurt and pain that had haunted her far too long. He did not reply for a few moments. He tried to find the words, but nothing came. He simply spoke.
I had to walk.
Silence once more. The girl said nothing aloud and kept staring at the darkness, as if staring at him would tear her apart. But how, he realised, he yearned for her to turn to him and see him, broken and hollow, needing every precious piece of her mind, body and soul to mend and console him.
I don't want to talk. Please, please leave, she said simply.
He did not move. He guessed she did not expect him to. But he heard her gasp as another tear must have rolled down her cheek.
Why do I deserve this? She whispered in his mind. Haven't I suffered enough for you? Why do you stand and hurt me like this? Why?
Her words struck him like lightning, piercing and yet so brutally honest, as ever. He fell to his knees, weakened and afraid, and yet so full of bitter emotion he could barely take the pressure of the ground upon his knees. His hand reached out, a yard from hers, but she did not notice. Her hand raised and wiped away a tear from her face.
I share your pain. I understand. I went through the same thing. He said to her, trying to sound strong. And then she turned.
Her face was it. Words were lost – each word he could think of shattered, meaningless and simply too little to describe this sight. Her dark eyes that were as deep as the love from inside her that flowed to everyone around her looked into his; her fragile face so pale and stunning beyond words confronted his in such a powerful yet stricken manner. Her lips were pink and poised, and her red hair fell about her face, framing the masterpiece. He could not bring himself to speak. Even breathing took effort.
You cannot share this pain, she whispered to him wordlessly, you don't understand. You never went through this. How – how can you… She leaned slightly forwards, as if to break down again, but refrained from doing so. She closed her eyes, tears rolling from beneath her eyelids. Each glinted like diamonds as they rolled onto her lap.
He could feel a tear welling in his eye. He was so close to her, but so far from her heart and…
Don't leave me. He said desperately in her head. Please. I need you. Or have you forgotten everything we whispered to each other those nights, those days? Have they faded away? Has everything between us…gone?
Her eyes opened, and she looked at him now, and there was something familiar about that look that even through the rain he recognised it. Her look blazed with emotion, and she reached out and touched his face hesitantly. Rain had coated her bare arms, but yet she did not shiver away. Her touch made his wet skin burn; something inside him began to stir…
"If I had left you," she spoke aloud now, and her voice was stronger and more layered full of emotion and understanding, "If I had forgotten everything, and left it to fade away…if everything had gone, would I be sat here, crying? Would I have been crying into my pillow, when I thought everyone else didn't care, and you were never coming back? Would I be the shell I am now, Harry Potter?"
She looked into his eyes, but he could not hold her gaze. He felt lost inside, like he'd been brought down to earth and seen everything for what it really was. How could he have been so shallow and selfish to forget her feelings – how she would have coped?
"Nothing I can say can take away that pain, Gin." He whispered to her, a tear rolling down his cheek as rain fell around him, numbing him and his bare skin. She shook her head.
"No." she murmured, "It can't. That pain has been suffered. I'll never suffer it again…as long as…"
Her voice trailed away, and their eyes met, and he realised that he was about to promise something he would hold to for the rest of his life and beyond; and, he realised, he wanted it more than anything he had ever wanted or would want in years to come – and that she was that final piece in the puzzle that had seemed so broken only moments ago.
"I'll never leave you, Ginny Weasley," he said, looking at her with such understanding and feeling he had never experienced, "As long as I'm living – and I guess, even when I'm not – I'll be with you. I want to grow old with you. I need you, more than anyone I've ever needed, and I want to be yours; mind, body and soul…forever. I love you, Ginny Weasley. There's nothing in me that's complete without you. I'm yours, Gin. If you still –"
Her face blazed, and she moved towards him, so there was barely an inch from their faces. He looked at her, and she him.
"I'll always love you, Harry Potter." She said, tears rolling down her cheeks, and then she did what Harry knew she would, and his heart mended as Ginny Weasley's lips met his own, her arms wrapping around him as his world began to turn the right way up. Everything came down to this – this shining moment of glory that would stretch for eternity as they kissed on that deserted path up to Hogwarts, neither caring nor wanting to care about anyone else in the world save the person they'd vowed to stay beside forever. The rain fell about them, washing away every inch of resentment, every last trail of a tear, every last drop of pain that had held each teenager too long. And, with his arms around her, his lips upon hers and as he looked up at her beautiful, irreplaceable face, Harry Potter realised that it was with her – his Ginny, his and only his Ginny Weasley – that he could find what he had set out to find with no-one knowing; a search that had started long before he knew of Voldemort, or wizardry, or magic at all. It was that search that had kept him going, and it brought a tear to his eye to realise that it was here, on the steps where he had finally found home that he had found what he had always wanted…
He had found his family.