Disclaimer: I obviously do not own Harry Potter and Company (characters, and all other inventions created by the masterful J.K. Rowling). If I did then you'd see my published works in your local bookstore and I wouldn't bother to be writing on a fan fiction site, now would I?
Alrighty, just as a side note, this story can be considered a continuation of "Sanctuary", but it can also stand alone, so you don't have to read Sanctuary if you don't want to...but I'd love it if you would!
And there I stood, just like a soldier
I was tough, until I saw her
Edge of A Broken Heart by Bon Jovi
I stand at the edge of the old makeshift dock Fred and George built years ago. I wear a simple summer dress and flip-flops, I let my hair loose. He would like me like this. He always did like me no matter what, but especially like this - simple. He liked simple things, probably because his life was anything but. A rare cool breeze passes by, and goosebumps spread like a plague, but not necessarily from the breeze. It's late August, and the heat is unbearable. A muggy fog settles in the air suffocating me. Gray skies are all we have seen in days. I stand there for a long time, thinking…about nothing in particular. Lately it's been so hard to think just one thing. My mind is a battlefield of thoughts, all fighting to be heard, but their shouts just blend together, and confuse me so.
I've been standing for an hour, maybe more. I don't know what comes over me, but I jump. Maybe I think the water will drown my thoughts and stop the confusion boiling in my head, maybe it's just that it is so hot. Or maybe I've finally lost it. For whatever reason, I jump in the water. I immediately cringe as my body comes in contact with it. The water is cold despite the heat everywhere else. Bitter and harsh salty water assaults my skin, burning my cracked lips. It reminds me of our goodbye, bitter and painful. After lingering under the salty water for a few moments longer I emerge. There is a brackish taste left in my mouth. It reminds me of our last kiss. I still remember his lips moving slowly over mine, it burned then…it still does now. My hair is slick and shiny from the water, it's a long, knotty mess of fire and weeds. They tangle and cling, I try to shake them loose, like memories of him, they only cling tighter. I lean back and float on the surface of the lake. I close my eyes and rest. Another breeze glides over the surface and I shiver. And that's when it began to rain. It was not a gentle shower, it was a fierce downpour that lasts for only a few minutes, maybe longer…I don't care. My thoughts wander to my Mother, would she be looking for me right now? Searching the house for my presence? No, my mother would be too preoccupied to search for me…she thinks I'm in my room anyway.
The rain has stopped, yet I still stay in the water. I'm not ready to go back yet. I stand and look at my surroundings. Despite the heavy rain, nothing seems to change. You would think, that such strong rain would leave a lasting impression, but no. The ground may be damp, but it is still stiflingly hot, the skies are still a dull gray. I thrash at the water, angry, abusive, violent. Rage consumes me. I miss him, he knows, but he has yet to come back to visit as he promised. How long has it been? Who can count…I laugh at my stupidity, "Don't kid yourself, Ginevra." I hiss resentfully in my mind. I loathe myself. I feel so pathetic. Of course I know how long he has been gone, I've been counting. One year three weeks and four days. That is how long Bill and Fleur have been married. That is the day he left. Ron has come back with Hermione periodically, but Harry has been conveniently unavailable each time they return. They visited today and Mom fussed over them as she normally did, inquiring about Harry's welfare and providing them with enough food to feed a small German army. Dad warned them to be careful and made sure they took every protective measure necessary. Ron hugged me, but didn't press me to talk to him. Hermione on the other hand, attempted to make conversation but I brushed her off. She would want to talk about him, but I couldn't. They left after a few hours, back to wherever they were staying temporarily, they wouldn't say.
Regardless that Harry Hermione and Ron did not return to Hogwarts, regardless of the war, life continued after their departure. Despite protests from many, Hogwarts opened for my 6th year…but it was hardly what I remembered it to be. It was sullen and cold. Hogwarts was no longer my home away from home. Many students did not come back. The year came and went uneventfully and we all returned home. Even less will be back for my 7th year.
My mother does her best to keeps everyone's spirits high, but she to is plagued with worries. The only times I am allowed out I have to be escorted by a brother, or someone else. She doesn't trust me. She thinks that I'd run away the second I got a chance, run to civilization, run to anywhere, maybe run to Harry. She thinks that…and she's right. Given the opportunity I would run to him in a second…if I knew where he was. But I don't, so that's why I sneak out of my room when she least expects. I come to the lake behind our house, and often I sit contemplating my fate, while my legs dangle in the shallow water. Not just my fate, I think about Ron and Hermione and Harry. I think about my other brothers and my Mother and Father. I think about Neville, and Colin, and Hagrid, and so many others. I pray, although I don't know who I'm praying to. It's so hard to find faith sometimes, but I know someone must be listening. Someone has to be listening. So I pray, desperate that my prayers will be answered. I pray for my family and friends, I pray for Harry, I pray for myself.
I miss him terribly. He misses me too…I hope, I think. I thrash at the water again, but I stop soon enough. The water calms quickly, settling back to the way it was before. Like everyone else in my life, they don't let my fits disturb their calm inner-pools. I'm as insignificant as rain on water. They all have their own worries and hurdles, mine are inconsequential to them, just as theirs are to me…so I'm not offended, I understand.
It's hard though, walking around…seeing things, remembering things. It seems like every object, every place is another trigger. I often find myself lost in thoughts of him. My mom quickly snaps me out of my reveries with lectures of how "in times like this I should realize my responsibilities." I sigh and say "Yes Mom.", "Of course Mom." Then I run to my room to dream more.
The nights are the worst, when I'm alone in my bed, free to think about whatever I want, all I can think about is him. It is in those silent moments that the reveries become deafening. It's suffocating. Breathing becomes a burden that I have to constantly remind myself to do. In those seconds that I don't tell myself to, I begin to feel dizzy, and I hyperventilate.
Deep breathes, in and out, in and out, that's what I have to keep thinking.
My friends are sympathetic, they understand, they're aware…but they can't comprehend. They can't share my pain, they can't feel what I feel. They ask if I'm alright, and my answer? I'm alive. I'm barely breathing and broken and torn inside, yet I'm still alive…physically. Emotionally I cannot account for, because I'm not all here. Am I truly living if my soul is dead? The very spark of my being flickered and fizzled. But I must be alright, because I can still walk, and I still talk, and I eat, and sometimes I laugh, and often I cry, but most of it's mechanical, things I'm supposed to do everyday. I don't feel much though. I feel lost more than anger. I feel sad more than hate. So I must be alright if I'm alive.
Each day is a reality that I am reluctant to face. And with each day, a tiny revelation that brings me closer to the truth…he's not coming back for me.
It's not that he doesn't love me, he does…in his own way. He loves me as he can, the only way he knows how. But he needs me to be something that I couldn't be for him. As much as he needs me, he didn't want me there. He was convinced that I would be in trouble, or maybe that I would be trouble, he thought he knew…but he was wrong.
Just because two people love each other, does not mean it was meant to work out. Sometimes, no matter how much you love a person they're just not meant to fit in your life the way you want them too. We both knew it.
I shrink back under the water one last time. It's been another hour, maybe more, who can tell? I reemerge and slowly make my way towards the grassy area outside the water. As I hoist myself up, I feel hands grip my upper arms and pull me out. Dad must have realized I was no longer in my room. He must be angry, he hasn't said a word yet. Mom and Dad differ in their anger. My Mother will shout and yell and scold me for my frivolity, for my lack of responsibility. But my patient Father, when provoked, has a quiet rage that leaves a lasting impression. I raise my head to take my punishment, but my eyes do not connect with his soft brown ones. No I'm lost in a pair of piercing green eyes.
Harry.
His expression is unclear, is he happy? Angry? I can't tell. He says nothing. He leans down and fiercely kisses me, as if it were the last time we would ever see each other. But he promised, last time, that we would see each other again, that we were long from over.
Something is wrong.
Five minutes earlier: In front of the Burrow
Harry took a deep breathe in. He was back at the Burrow. Not for long, just to visit.
"That's right," he reminded himself "it's just a visit. This doesn't mean anything will happen. I just need to see her."
He looked back at Ron and Hermione who had accompanied him back for their second time today. His mind raced to this mornings events, to the reason why he was here.
Earlier today: Undisclosed Location
"Harry, where are you?" Ron shouted unnecessarily through their convenient albeit small, temporary shelter - a small shack buried deep within a vast woodland in England. Ron and Hermione had just come back from the Burrow, another visit that Harry had opted out of. He knew if he were to go, he wouldn't leave. Not just for Ginny, he missed Molly and Arthur and all of the Weasleys. They were a second family to him, the only family he had ever known. A family in every sense of the word, they loved him unconditionally despite the lack of blood relation. After years spent with the Dursley's Harry knew more than anything else, that blood did not bond a family. But he couldn't go there, it would be all too painful, so instead he spent the time in their modest shack. Before he could respond Hermione threw back the curtain that acted as a door to his quarters and proceeded to harangue Harry.
"Really, this is ridiculous Harry!" Hermione said. "Molly is worried sick over you! She loves you like a son, and you're putting her through hell. All she can do is blame herself."
"It's not her fault." Harry whispered as he fiddled with his fingers.
"Of course it's not her fault! I know that, both Ron and I have told her that. I know it's completely and utterly your fault. If you weren't always so self-sacrificing, if you didn't have to act like such a martyr…"
Harry tried to remain calm despite Hermione's instigating. She wanted him to yell, to show some type of emotion…he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of knowing how hurt he was. "I can't go back there yet. It's not the right time." He couldn't look into her eyes.
"Harry, it will never be the right time. There will always be some terrible danger, or some pressing matter. But you have to make time for the ones you love. You can't shut people out of your life." She sighed, attempting to compromise. "Just for an hour, visit the Burrow. Have tea with Molly, let her tell you how you're to skinny, and let her coddle and fuss over you." Harry chuckled. Hermione continued with a smile, "Let Arthur tell you be safe, and try not to get into to much trouble, and ask you about his newest Muggle fascinations." Harry smiled knowing that if he did visit the Burrow, that's exactly what would happen. Hermione started again, "And let Ginny…" But she trailed off, her smile disappearing instantly.
Harry looked at Hermione for the first time since she barged in to his room. "Let Ginny what…?" he pressed.
Hermione shook her head and looked away for a moment. Harry stood up and grasped Hermione's upper arms with great urgency forcing her to look at him. "What's wrong with Ginny." He growled.
"Oh Harry," Hermione tried to speak clearly past the lump in her throat, but it came out as a raspy whisper. "She needs you." Harry dropped his hands and walked away from her. He couldn't hear this. She licked her chapped lips. "Harry, please go back, go for Ginny."
"She needs me to stay away from her. If I go back…It'll only make things harder."
Hermione walked up behind him, "Trust me Harry, she can't be any worse than she is now."
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked frantically.
Ron shuffled into the room. "She's fading. She barely talks to anyone, her appetite is gone. She's fading from us Harry."
Harry turned to him desperately. "What can I do though? I can't take her back yet, we're apart for a reason."
"I know mate. But if you could just…"
"If I could just what? Give her false hope? Go back there as if nothing is wrong and make her believe that everything is alright. If I could, I would promise her the world, but I can't. I can't do that! I don't know what will happen, and I can't trick her into believing in some fantasy. I can't risk hurting her like that." Harry shouted at his best friends.
"Harry, for once, stop thinking about the future! Ginny needs you now. She needs to know that you love her. Give her that, if nothing else give her that. Let her know you love her, and you're going to do your best, that you're going to fight so that hopefully one day things can be different. You don't have to lie to her or make up stories. She's not a naïve little girl, she knows that life isn't all fairy tales. She just needs to see you, to reassure her that this isn't all a lost cause. That you are apart for a reason, and the reason is that you do love her. But just like you Harry, she needs something to fight for."
Harry did not seem entirely convinced. So Ron continued where Hermione left off. "I know you think you're doing the right thing here, I know that you think it may be best to keep distance between you two. But this isn't just about Ginny. You need to see her too." Harry looked Ron square in the face. "Harry, you don't think we hear you, at night in your room. But believe it or not mate, that curtain in the doorway is not soundproof. We hear everything, every cry, every time you shout her name in your sleep. It's hurting you just as much as it's hurting her. Think about it, seeing her, it could make things better."
Harry nodded, the lump in his throat was painful now, but he knew what he had to do.
So that's why Harry was here now, standing in front of the Burrow for the first time in one year three weeks and four days. He knew because was counting.