Written for Lady (Lady Phoenix Fire Rose) on the Gift-Giving Extravaganza 2013.
There's a routine.
Ever since (and, quite frankly, before) the war, all reporters want is to talk to Harry. They want to take his picture and ask him questions. It's ridiculous, the lengths they're willing to go to. And it's not just reporters. It's people from the Ministry. It's the general public. It's storeowners, parents, children and teachers...it's everyone.
What's more, they want talk to Ron, Hermione and anyone they connect to the three of them as well.
Ron soaks up the attention with glee. Hermione smiles and takes it all as gracefully as she can manage in public, leaving the hair tearing and frustrated sighs for her own ears and eyes only.
But Harry, on the other hand... Harry's different. He can't handle it. He has to do it; he knows he does. It's expected of him. It's just that he finds it harder than Ron or Hermione do.
He doesn't know how to stand in front of crowd and tell them how, while he was so caught up in defeating Voldemort, people died. People who trusted him and followed his instruction meticulously died. He doesn't know how to tell people that he blames himself everyday and can't stand to look in the mirror because although people always tell him that it's not his fault and that they weren't just fighting for him, they were fighting for something much bigger, he blames himself.
It's just too hard.
And that's why the routine comes about.
It's a simple routine—nothing special.
Ginny deals to those requesting Harry's presence and, if she deems the cause worthy, she tells—not ask, never ask—Harry of their plans. He panics and frets. He spends days and is up at all of hours of the night scrawling speeches filled with horrible puns. These days aren't so bad.
It's the few hours before the event that are troublesome. Harry sweats. He clomps around their apartment, cussing at every unfortunate piece of furniture that he manages to smash into. He breaks vases and throws books at walls. If Ginny didn't know him better, she'd find it terrifying.
By the time he's made it to the bedroom, Ginny escapes to the bathroom and begins to draw a bath. Then, she slips into the bedroom too. Harry's curled up on the bed now, his knees drawn into his chest and arms wrapped around his knees as he rocks himself back and forth. She sits behind him, rubbing her and kneading his shoulders until he uncurls.
"Time for a bath," she whispers in his ear, tugging him off the bed and calmly peeling his clothing off before guiding him towards a now filled bath.
She massages his scalp, humming and keeping a careful eye on the time. When it's half an hour before it's time to leave, she nudges him out of the bath and, after throwing a towel in his general direction, returns back to the bedroom in order to fetch his formal robes. She leaves him to dress himself, rushing to get herself ready for the event. She never looks as good as she could, but she looks presentable and that, Ginny thinks, is good enough.
He's ready. She's ready. They prepare to leave.
Harry visibly cringes as he walks through the living room, taking in to account the broken porcelain and disarray.
"I—"
"Don't worry about it," Ginny shushes him. "We'll fix it when we get home."
It's always the same. Ginny's come to accept it as part of her everyday life. She doesn't mind, not really. So, all right, it's a little scary sometimes. It's never fun watching someone you love fly off the handle, but she manages well enough.
"Just remember, it's not about them and it's not about you," Ginny says, countering Harry's complaints just before he's due to deliver yet another speech. She reaches up, placing a tender hand on his cheek. "It's about remembering those we lost. It's about closure. It's about teaching the kids now about equality so that one day, if we have kids, they won't have to do same things we did."
"Big picture. Right."
Ginny nods. "You have to do this. For everyone."
"I know. It's just—"
"Harry," she cuts him off, knowing what's coming next. "No one blames you."
He sighs and for a moment, Ginny can fool herself into thinking that for the first time, he believes her. But then his eyes flicker and all she can see is pain and regret. He'll never believe her.
An announcer is calling his name. Harry's shivering as if he's on death row and Ginny literally has to push him on stage, where he'll somehow hold it all together to stutter through yet another speech before rushing to the side curtains.
This is where Ginny waits. Because, while the nights beforehand are bad and the hours beforehand and worse, nothing compares to when he finishes a speech.
He collapses to his knees as soon as he's out of the audience's view and Ginny has to fight her way through backstage reporters and photographers to get to him. But even when she does kneel in front of him, there's nothing she can do as he relives the events of the war.
She does her best, hugging him and whispering comforting words that go unheard.
Eventually, he calms down and she takes him home, all the while listening to him apologise hundreds of times over.
"It's okay," she says. "Honestly, Harry. It's okay."
"I don't understand why I'm like this."
Ginny gives him a small smile, wishing she knew how to answer him. In all honesty, she thinks of what Harry has been through and she's surprised that he didn't break sooner. It was only a matter of time, really.
And so, she just continues to smile at him. "Everything will be okay."
She tries to say it like she believes it, but it comes out weak and her worry is painfully obvious.
The routine works. It gets Harry up on stage and allows him the stability to talk in front of thousands about the past. But the routine, wondrous as it is, just isn't enough. He's still broken. He still has nightmares and most importantly, he still blames himself.
Ginny thinks that maybe one day she'll fix him. She'll be able to whisper "it's okay" and they'll both believe it. She wants him to be okay.
It'll take some time, she knows that.
For now, she'll just piece together broken vases and rearrange the strewn pillows. She'll stand by him and help him whenever and however she can.
And maybe one day they won't even need a routine.
They'll just be Harry and Ginny, just like they've always meant to be. Harry and Ginny, living life...no routines necessary.