A/N: This is a mushy, gushy, AU, Harry/Ginny oneshot. It's meant to make you feel warm and fuzzy. If you don't feel warm and fuzzy when you read this, I feel deep sorrow for you.
Disclaimer: All that is Harry Potter is borrowed from the generous Ms. Rowling. I am grateful to her for making this possible and giving much hope and inspiration to readers and writers such as myself.
Better Than a Rose
There she lay, in the green meadow by the lake. She lay on her back, eyes analyzing the orange and pink shades of the sky. A chorus of birdsong came to her from the nearby forest. The wind tickled the water's surface, sending it to the lake's edge. She closed her eyes, soaking in her freedom in the rays of the dying sun. There was no way the moment could get any better.
"Ginny?"
But it just had.
The girl lay on her back with her knees slightly lifted off the ground, arms spread wide and buried in the tallish green grass. Her soft red hair twisted and her in neat, accidental designs. She lifted her eyelids and found a boy's face hovering a foot above hers. Her eyes dilated to focus on the sudden appearance of this boy, but she gave no other sign of surprise.
"Hello, Harry," the girl answered serenely, staring up into his deep emerald eyes.
"I was wondering where you were off to. Everyone I asked gave me a different answer. It seems you have a variety of not-so-secret hideouts."
Harry sat himself beside the girl's relaxed figure, drawing his knees up loosely and holding them in place with his clasped hands. He gazed out over the lake. A spark of orange sky reflected in the eyes that had seen too much pain and sorrow. Ginny turned her head to the side to look up into his face better. She lifted an eyebrow.
"Yeah? What did they say?"
"Well…one twin told me you were on the roof; another said you were in a secret compartment of the shed. Ron swore you'd be in the attic with the ghoul. Hermione thought you'd be in the bathtub—thankfully she offered to check for me. Your dad recommended that I look in the oak tree on the third branch from the bottom on the left side facing the east, and your mum said to check behind the couch in the living room, and be careful not to startle you if you had your wand. When Bill dropped by earlier, he finally told me that you'd be here."
Ginny smiled. Leave it to Bill to know exactly where she'd be. "I've been known to go wherever I can be alone. It's hard to find that with six brothers. So, often, my family would find me in the oddest places. My favorite memory was when Dad found me hanging upside down in the laundry shoot. You should have seen his face."
A smile spread itself across Harry's mature features. "I can imagine. I went through the same thing trying to get away from my cousin and his gang."
From where she lay, Ginny could see the hint of a distant look in Harry's eyes, the flash of a memory. Not wanting to ruin the atmosphere with talk of ugly times, Ginny slipped her fingers under Harry's.
"Tell me a story," she said gently and suddenly.
Harry seemed to consider this for a moment, tilting his head to the side. A minute passed, and then Harry began his story, smooth and soothing, like the calming sensation of a scented candle burning low and with purpose.
"Once, there was a boy who loved magic. He had grown up as a muggle, and the new world of sorcery was new and incredible. This boy had hard times—hard times—over his first few years in this new world. There were times when he would wonder what had happened that made things go so wrong, what the point of even trying to mold your own destiny was.
"But then, a girl came into his life. When he seemed to be consumed by darkness, the image of this girl with her blaze of hair, soft, caring, caramel eyes, smooth lips, kind nature, and the ability to love like no one he'd ever known took over his thoughts. It banished all darkness to the depths of his mind, made the world seem right again. Seeing her smile made emotion surge in his chest. Without her the boy was empty and shallow. When she was with other guys, the boy felt a deep longing in him, a painful ache in his heart that was almost more than he could bear. But it would all dissipate from him as though it had never been when she walked into the room. There was no space in his thoughts but for her. And when she left, the loneliness took over the boy, and his only escape was memories of the girl.
"As once again, the girl left the room and the boy to their solitude, the boy made an oath. It was said that a rose was the sign of love. The boy vowed to do better. Roses withered and died, showing an end. This love that burned inside of him was not to be put out, even by the strongest wind or greatest amount of water, so simple roses would not due. He needed something better than a rose. He thought and thought for ages, and he finally came up with the perfect way to express his love to her. All he needed was to find her. It just so happened that she proved to be difficult to find that particular day, but he finally found her. She was spread out down by a secluded lake at sunset. Seeing her there made a new passion arise in the boy's heart, and he decided to confess to her his feelings then and there…"
Ginny listened carefully to every word Harry spoke. His story wove a new kind of love into her heart for him. The love for him had always been there, over all the years she believed him oblivious. Hearing all of these words come from him now made her feel all the stronger for him. But the light was fading, and sun was slipping away from the sky's grasp. Ginny could feel her eyelids become heavy, and lower, and lower, until they finally closed entirely. She still strained at her consciousness to listen for the end of the story. She needed to hear the end. She needed to find out what was to happen. It had just been a long day…
"And as the moon took its shift over the sky, the boy began his proclamation of love to her…"
The gentle tone of Harry's voice echoed in Ginny's mind and the world faded.
Ginny's eyes snapped open. She was still lying down by the lake. Stars shone brightly and boldly against the blanket of night above and around her, and also in the water. It seemed to her that some were winking at her. The waxing moon drifted above all else, looking down and guarding her. She woke with disappointment, because she hadn't heard the end of Harry's story. It was then that Ginny realized she was wrapped in a thick cloak—one that she recognized as Harry's. On top of the cloak there lay a single red rose. She grabbed hold of it with her delicate, white fingers, holding it close to her heart. Standing up, she tugged the heavy cloak over her shoulders, and turned to go home; up the hill and back to the Burrow, rose in hand and smile on lips. Then she realized there was more to the unfinished story yet to come.
Crimson roses lain on the grass marked the path up to the Burrow. Ginny's eyes softened. She walked the set path, and picked up each rose as she went, adding them to the bouquet that she held close. When at last she reached the back door to her house, she noticed that the door frame was rimmed with the flower of love. Her heart thumped in her chest. She brought her hand to the doorknob, gave it a gentle twist, and pushed the door open. The open room of the kitchen and dining area was deserted. But there were roses everywhere. The petals were scattered over the floor and almost any open space available. Crystal vases were on every flat surface, filled to the brim with roses of the deepest scarlet. Single roses rested in random places, hung around the windows, doorways, and the ceiling bordering the room, and loaded the sink. Ginny's eyes opened wide and she took a small breath of surprise and delight, soaking in the extreme decorations. After inspecting the beauty of the new décor, something caught her eye.
In the center of the wooden table with the many chairs to accommodate her large family, there was a small, black box. Ginny's breath caught in her lungs. Slowly, she walked to the table, put down the flowers she'd clung to, and picked up the object on top of it. She rubbed the tips of her fingers over the small, rectangular, and mysterious velvet box, savoring the moment. Then, she gently pried the hinges upward, and inside was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen in her life.
Its center was a ruby red, shaped into an elegant, flourished flower—a rose. Traveling around it, starting on either side of the blossom and meeting again around, there was an intricate weave of gold. Ginny's eyes welled with tears. In the corner of the box, she saw the corner of a piece of paper. After a gentle tug, the paper came loose from the bottom of the box. She unfolded it with slightly shaking hands. It read:
Ginny,
My story is yet unfinished, and once a story has been started, it must end. But I hope this will be no end. After all, isn't the end just something else's beginning?
We left off with the boy executing his confession of love to his girl. He sat with her by the river as the day faded to night, lulling her to sleep with a story. As she drifted into unconsciousness, he conjured a cloak and a single rose and laid them upon her. Then he seta trail for her to follow of red roses to her house. Inside, he put his most ingenious idea that would be his proclamation on the table for her to later find. It was a ring. A ring made entirely of gold, with a rose painted red at its midpoint. Unlike any other rose that dies and withers with time, this rose would last forever, just as his love for her would. There could be no better than that.
He can only hope that she will accept this token and stand by him until the end of time, as he expected she would. This boy knew that the girl needed him as much as he needed her; he'd seen it in her gaze, in her actions, heard it in her words. Their lives could be forever intertwined, like the weavings on the ring, if she so wanted it. He would wait for her answer. He would wait until she gave him her response, no matter how long it took. For she was his heart, and he could not doanything but wait for his heart to beat.
The tears seeped from her eyes as she read this letter. They were not sad tears, nor angry, but of sheer joy. And suddenly, Harry's arms were around her as he approached her from behind. He turned her around, took the box from her hands, and removed the gold token from it. Never breaking eye contact, he brought himself down onto one knee, grasping her left hand. He asked her with no words, but with his eyes and heart, for her answer. The watery, trembling, wide grinned nod was all he needed before he slipped the ring onto her left hand, fourth finger from the left side. Without letting go of her hand, Harry rose and placed his free hand on Ginny's shoulder, and began to dance with her. While the sky lightened and turned to day, Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter could be seen dancing in the Burrow kitchen on a floor littered with flower petals, roses everywhere, and no music to be heard, the happiest they had ever been.
A/N: There you have it. A happy ending if I ever saw one. Let me know what you thought, but no flames please! I am but a mere author, and I have feelings, too, even if you might not think so! Now, I am thinking of a number between one and ten…if the number you picked is 1 or higher, I think you should review! And if it isn't, I think you should review anyway and let me know how you did it…Thanks for reading!