Not Enough, a one-shot. Harry/Ginny. My second fic (:
It is a hard thing to love someone more than they love you. Ginny had always known this, ever since Harry had rescued her from the Chamber of Secrets so many years ago. From that day forward, Ginny had given Harry the biggest piece of her heart. The day he gave her some of his in return was the day that Ginny surrendered the rest and gave him all. All. Everything. Harry had her entire being, and there was nothing left for anyone else.
Their relationship was terribly unhealthy, but of course, Harry never noticed it. The one the least invested never truly understands the problems that cause their partner to break. He thought everything was fine. Ginny chuckled to herself when she thought of Harry's ignorance, as she often did when nightmares woke her up in their wedding bed, causing the young girl to lay awake for hours, thinking about how utterly cold she felt next to her husband's furnace-like body.
She could never touch him. Not even a tap. When all she wanted was to cuddle up next to him, Ginny had to restrain herself. She couldn't wake him. She couldn't because then he would get frustrated and push her off anyways, grumbling that he had to get up early the next morning. He was an Auror after all. While she had dedicated her life to him, Harry had promised his to the people. Ginny would never get in the way of his promise. She was one girl among millions, and while Harry would always give some of his time to her, the rest of it was devoted to the wizarding world. Ginny had always thought of these people as a collective figure, acting as sort of the "other woman" in their relationship. And, as anyone who had read Lavender Brown's latest romance novel knows, the mistress always wins.
She knew, of course, that there was no real "other woman." Harry did actually love her. Besides that fact, his Gryffindor chivalry would never let him cheat. Still, she thought, it might be easier if there was someone else. It would give her an excuse to leave him and maybe start anew. She desperately wanted a second chance that she was sure his nobility would never grant her. Ginny needed a reason to hate him. She needed something to force her to fall out of love with the man. Harry, however, always seemed to stay perfect. She could find no fault in his features, even when she stared at him in the middle of the night blinking through tears. His character was upstanding; he always protected her from the rain when they got caught in a storm, he made sure to pull her chair out for her before they ate, and he would never forget to swiftly kiss her on the cheek before he left for work. He was flawless. She just felt so much more.
Ginny needed passion; she was built on it, and it flowed in her blood. She needed bold declarations of love and sex that left marks and bruises. She needed hand-holding so tight that the grip mirrored handcuffs. She needed heated whispers of possession. She needed Harry's all. She recalled one night that she had snapped and climbed on top of Harry, waking him up with her mouth. Groggily, Harry had slowly returned the kiss, and Ginny, emboldened, had bit his lip and ran her nails down his chest. Suddenly, Harry had moved away from her reach.
"What the hell are you trying to do Ginny?" he had asked, looking at her with wide eyes.
"I was trying to make love with you," she had whispered, slightly confused.
Harry had frowned and said, "Ginny, dear. That's not how you touch a person you love. That stuff you were doing, it was painful. I think you might be sleep deprived." Harry had then laughed and the two went back to sleep, with Ginny thinking that Harry Potter knew nothing of what she considered pain.
She knew that Harry had wanted comfort and stability after the war, and that's why he chose her. Ginny had always been there; she was reliable, the go-to girl, Ron's little sister. Harry wanted to be part of the Weasley family, and Ginny gave him that. She contented herself with the role of patient, stable wife, feeling that a little bit of Harry was better than none. That is why she finds herself here, in this bed, next to a boy she can't call hers, reflecting on the life she has made.
So many words fill her head: anger, sadness, love, joy. All of them mean Harry. Ginny contemplates 50 more years of this anguish and quietly goes back to sleep.
Here's hoping you all enjoyed! I feel like this will hopfully lead up to a multi-chapter fic. I'm definitely wanting to start one at least! I welcome reviews & critique.