Destiny
The Burrow was quiet. It was almost midnight when Kingsley Shacklebolt silently apparated onto the doorstep of the usually chaotic house. Quickly he uttered a spell, a password left over from the days of war just passed, and stepped over the threshold into the Weasley family's kitchen.
Not wanting to invade the family's privacy, the tall wizard sent his patronus to the Weasley patriarch with a message to meet him downstairs. The patronus drifted towards the master bedroom.
Looking around the room Kingsley remembered how the house had been in the years leading up to the Battle of Hogwarts. It had seemed so alive. Now, the shelves were filled with pictures that seemed so distant even the memories were gone. The house seemed empty, somehow.
Soon the redheaded man appeared, pulling Kingsley out of his quiet mourning. Arthur stood in his threadbare robe before the newly appointed Minister for Magic, a look of deep concern on his face.
Kingsley smiled calmly at his friend and took in the man's appearance. Arthur was different than he had been when they first met. He had been so carefree, and Kingsley had admired that. The war had claimed many things and Kingsley was sad to see that Arthur's naivety was among them. He looked older now. His hair seemed less vibrant copper and more the colour of a dying leaf in the fall. Lines now marred his face, each a wrinkle of worry for his loved ones.
Arthur summoned two mugs of hot tea and offered the minister a seat at the kitchen table.
Kingsley nodded in thanks and began to speak, "I'm sorry I woke you at this time of the night, Arthur," he apologized.
"No problem at all," the shorter man replied, sipping tiredly at his tea. "For what do I owe this visit?"
"Well…" Kinsley began, his tone wary, "I don't mean to cause alarm, but we seem not to be able to find Harry. Do you have any knowledge as to his whereabouts?"
"He's gone?" Asked Arthur, shocked.
Kingsley rubbed his brow tiredly. "Not gone, but missing. As of yesterday night. I take it he hasn't come here?"
Arthur set his cup down on the table, "No, he hasn't."
"Alright then," the much larger man sighed, and stood. "I guess I should get back to the search. It seems Harry left Grimmauld Place on his own accord, but he shouldn't be wandering around England alone."
As Kinsley headed toward the door Arthur called out to him, "You know Harry can take care of himself, and he's of age."
"Yes, I know," the other man smiled. "He defeated the greatest dark wizard ever to have lived, for god's sake. I'm just worried. It's been just over a week and there are plenty of people out there who want his head on a platter. It's quite unlike him to leave without a trace. He hasn't really been himself lately."
"He's grieving Kingsley," Arthur replied, "We all are."
Kingsley nodded. It was true. "I'm just worried about him, that's all. I don't want him to do anything he'll later regret."
With that, the minister left and Arthur returned to his wife's bed despite knowing he would not be getting any sleep.
Neither man noticed a figure watching from the shadows.
Ginny waited until her father had passed her hiding spot and returned to the master bedroom to let out the breath she had been holding. Harry was missing, and no one knew where he had gone. They were worried. He could be in danger. Ginny sighed. She had seen little of Harry in the week that followed the battle. She had had it in her head that after he defeated Voldemort Harry would come running back to her straight away. Still, no such thing had happened. He seemed more dark and withdrawn than ever.
If I were Harry, where would I be? Ginny asked herself, sliding her back down the wall to sit, and tucking her knees up to her chest.
It was a game she had played throughout the past year, trying to guess the location of he, her brother, and Hermione.
She racked her brain for a possible location. I need to find him. She thought. I need to help him… I need him to help me.
An idea occurred to her suddenly. The chances of him being there were slim to none, but for her, if the chances of him being at the North Pole were slim to none, she'd go anyway, just to check.
Not bothering to change out of her nightgown, Ginny silently grabbed her cloak, broom, and a compass before heading out into the starry night sky.
The wind that night was cold and whipped Ginny's face. She felt as if her numb fingers would fall off. Frozen tears danced about her cheeks. Still, her face remained solid in determination. Hours passed before she reached her desired destination.
Getting off her broom Ginny felt the magical residue in the air. She was in Godrich's hollow, and although it had been over a decade since Voldemort had marked Harry, the imprint of magic it had left had to yet dissolve.
Letting her feet guide her, Ginny soon came to a stop before the haunting monument that stood to mark the wrecked Potter residence. Weeds and grasses had grown around the ruins, giving the place an eerie, haunted look.
Despite the magic radiating from the residence, Harry was not there. Almost at a run, Ginny took off toward the cemetery.
She pushed the iron gates open with all of her strength and looked wildly for Harry. He has to be here! She thought as the wind whipped tendrils of her long hair about her face.
Then she noticed a clocked figure on the farthest corner of the cemetery. It was Harry.
She set off at a run toward him, crying his name in joy. He did not turn. As Ginny neared him she called his name again.
Ginny slowed to a walk and stood behind the man.
He turned slowly.
Ginny gasped out loud. Harry looked like death. It seemed as if he hadn't eaten in days, and that was most likely the case. He was dirty and unshaven. More than that, he seemed older. Not more wise, just old. At if the week had been years. His cheeks were hollow and the eyes that had one made Ginny weak at the knees were sunken and dull. Loss clouded his irises.
"Harry," Ginny called shakily, as if it was a question.
He just stared at her.
"Harry," she whispered again.
"Ginny," came the reply from the hero's cracked, dry lips.
Ginny resisted the urge to cry. She enveloped his all too thin form into a hug as a sob racked the older boy's body.
"Ginny," Harry said again, breathing in her scent.
Now she began to cry with him, "I'm here."
"How did you find me?" Asked the man Ginny loved, his voice so broken, like a lost child's. It killed her to see Harry so broken, especially because she had no idea how to mend his wounds.
"I just knew," she replied.
Silence surrounded them for a few seconds. Then Harry moved to sit on a bench facing away from his parents graves. Even his walk was different. His wounds had been healed but there was still a stiffness in the way that Harry carried himself. Almost a limp. He motioned for the redhead sit beside him.
"Harry," Ginny asked, sliding down next to him, "what's going on? I've never seen you like this."
He laughed, dry and crisp. "You would laugh at me."
Ginny regarded him for a few seconds, "Try me."
"Parseltongue," Harry announced conjuring up a snake with the same spell that Malfoy had used to expose his ability in their second year. "I used to be able to speak in Parseltongue. Now…" He looked at the snake and let out a halfhearted hiss.
"But I-I don't understand why is it gone?" Ginny asked, perplexed.
"I could only ever speak it because he could, and he gave me that power," Harry explained.
"Harry, It doesn't really…"
"Ginny, don't you dare say it doesn't matter!" Harry exploded, "You of all people should know it does! Because I could speak parseltongue… That was the reason I was able to save you down in the Chamber of Secrets. Without it, you would have died. It's almost ironic that I saved you, Ginny, with a skill given to me by Tom himself."
The statement hung in the air.
"Harry…you saved me because you are a hero and the best man I've ever known. You're a Gryffindor. It was never about the parseltongue… Some people have gifts Harry!" She cried, "It's not about what we have, damn it! It's about how we use it!"
Harry stared at her speechless, his features illuminated by the moon.
"Do you not see that Harry?" She asked quietly, "It's about you. You are a hero, not for what you do but for what you try to do. It's about you! It always has been!"
"I understand Ginny," Harry said calmly, "But it seems as if a part of me it gone. I don't know, maybe it made me feel… Special? What's worse is that I don't know what hurts more… Realizing that I could only speak parseltongue, an ability I had grown to be proud of, because of him… Or that I lost it.""
"No, Harry. You don't… I understand," Ginny assured him.
"I feel terrible! So selfish! Like I should know better." Harry grabbed a fistful of his hair and stared at the ground.
"How could feel selfish?" asked Ginny, "You just saved the entire Wizarding world." Surely the man who spent his life fighting a Dark Lord to save the Wizarding race was entitled to a degree of selfishness.
"Yes, but how many people died in that battle because of me. Your brother, for one, and Tonks, and Remus… So many people are dead." Harry cried bitterly.
"Harry!" Ginny wailed, "It was a war. In war, people die!"
"People didn't have to!" Harry shouted angrily. "They didn't have to die, and I let them. I am the reason they are dead!"
Tears were now falling steadily from her eyes, "How can you blame yourself?" she asked in amazement.
Ginny could see in Harry's face that he took each one of their deaths personally. He felt terrible for not having protected them.
"I was a coward," Harry sighed, again on the verge of tears. "I should have gone straight to Voldemort. It was me he wanted."
"Yes, but then you wouldn't have finished destroying the horcruxes, or gotten Snape's memories and figured out that you had to die in order to kill the bloody bastard!" Ginny cried passionately.
"But Ginny! Can't you see! I was supposed to protect them, to keep them safe! To save the entire fucking Wizarding race!" Harry shouted. "Every bloody newspaper is saying I succeeded, but right under the article proclaiming victory there's a obituary. I see that and… it feels like I failed."
Ginny stood in front of Harry.
"If that's the way you see it, then I guess you're right," she replied quietly. "You can tell yourself that although you killed Voldemort, people died. You can blame yourself."
Harry looked up at her with tears in his eyes.
"Or you can face the truth," she continued. "That people were going to die regardless. That even more would have died had you not stopped Voldemort. That those people fought alongside you of their own free wills and they fell, but they fell gallantly. They died how they would have wanted to die."
Then Harry began to sob.
"I just can't help it. I feel so responsible for their deaths… Little Teddy Lupin, he will never know his mother or his father… He'll grow up an orphan, like I did," Harry spoke slowly.
"Harry," Ginny said, sitting back down to dry his tears. "You can grieve. Everyone is grieving right now. You can cry for Remus, and Tonks, and Fred, and Sirius. I've cried. I've cried and I've realized that no matter how much I cry they're not coming back. After you grieve you can live again. I've started. You will too."
"I'll try," Harry conceded. "I'll try to grieve but I don't know if anything will ever go back to the way it was before."
"That's all I can ask Harry," Ginny replied, smiling sadly.
Harry stood and sighed, his breath turning to mist in the frigid night air. He walked over to his parents' grave.
"I'm different now," he said softly. "I don't feel like the same Harry Potter. I feel so… Uncertain. Up until now, I've always had a destiny… A goal. I feel almost as if now that I've accomplished that, I have nowhere left to go." Harry sighed. "I've lived my whole life being 'the chosen one.' Chosen. For something that I've now done… So what's next?"
Ginny struggled to conceal a sob. Harry had never lived a normal life. He did not know how.
He turned back towards her, eyes still glistening with tears. "Yesterday night I got back to Sirius's place and soon as I walked in the door I found myself laying down the spells and charms me, Ron, and Hermione used last year to protect ourselves. I just can't get used to the fact that there isn't an evil Dark Lord out there anymore who wants me dead."
Harry paused for a moment to dry his eyes with his sleeve. "So I came here," he gestured to the large headstone that lay above his parents' grave. "To see them. I didn't know where else to go."
Minutes passed before Ginny spoke. To Harry it seemed like an eternity.
"Harry James Potter," she said, looking straight at him, her brown eyes probing his green irises. "There is no such thing as destiny."
"But the prophecy…" He replied earnestly
"Prophecies are speculation!" Ginny cried. "They are subjective to change! There are thousands of unfulfilled prophecies in the department of mysteries, Harry. You fulfilled this prophecy in decisions you made throughout your life."
"But…"
"No Harry!" Ginny interrupted. "Listen to me. Last year… Remember when you told me that the sorting hat wanted to put you in Slytherin?" Harry nodded. "If you had not convinced him otherwise… If you had ended up a Slytherin… Perhaps you would be sitting at Voldemort's right side at this very moment."
Harry gasped in incredulity and sat back down on the bench.
"The way I see it, we have a number of different choices that define who we are." Ginny continued, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You are a Gryffindor, you are a hero, and you are the man I love. Now you're finding yourself at a crossroads. Hell, we all are. You can do whatever you want. This time you don't have the benefit of a possible destiny having been prophesized for you. You have to make your own."
As Ginny finished her eyes shone full of tears. "I love you Harry, and I know that you'll be able to make the right decision."
She turned away quickly, grabbed her broom, and before Harry could say a thing, began the long flight home.
In that moment, Ginny felt more pain than she had ever experienced. Her heart went out to Harry. To the man who thought his life was over. The man who was afraid of making a decision, because he had never consciously make one as life altering as the one before him.
Ginny had cried many times over Harry, but now she cried for him.
The ride home passed quickly and when Ginny returned home she collapsed in bed and cried, allowing sleep to overcome her.
Later that night, Ginny was gently shaken awake. She woke to find herself staring into the same eyes she had been dreaming of.
He cupped her face in his hands.
"I love you Ginny," he whispered with conviction.
"Harry…"
"You said I had to make a decision," He interrupted her. "Well, I've decided. I want you. The entire time I was away last year, I thought of you. I thought that if I could just get rid of Voldemort, then I would be able to hold you again. And in my dreams, I've kissed your lips a thousand times. Ginny, you are the reason that I survived. I had the power the Dark Lord knew not… It was the power of love. My love for you is what saved our world."
The broken hero's eyes pooled with tears.
"I always thought that it was my ultimate destiny to kill Voldemort or die trying, but now I can see… It is my ultimate destiny to love you."
Ginny opened her mouth to speak, but Harry was not yet finished.
"Ginevra Molly Weasley," Harry said to the woman he loved right before the dawn broke. "Will you marry me?"
And as the sun peaked across the horizon, Ginny felt a tear fall from her eye and a single word escaped her lips, "Yes."
Then, for the first time since before the fall of Lord Voldemort, his lips met hers. And they both knew that they had found their destiny at last.
It's canon! Ah! It's been so long since I've read/written anything canon that I had completely forgotten how much I love Ginny/Harry. It's so classic. Please leave a review! They make my day. Also, this was written for the Hogwarts Online prompt "In my dreams I've kissed your lips a thousand times" (by Lionel Richie from the song Hello).
Thanks,
Aly