A/N 1 This story opens with mention of an act of terrorism, please don't read if it may upset you.
They probably would never have met, but Fate had decreed otherwise. She lived near Devon, along with her six brothers. He was a doted upon son and elder brother, now living in London for his work. But Fate would bring them together in the most tragic of ways.
It was May second, 1998. A beautiful day, weather wise. In a stadium full of thousands of screaming people, Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley sat, ironically, not too far from each other, although they did not know each other then. They were both attending the football; Aston Villa for him, Crystal Palace for her. He was the more avid follower, there with his best friend, Neville; she had gone to accompany her friend, Dean. Although he followed West Ham, he had scored free tickets for that days match.
Aston Villa were leading half way though the first half when the first explosion happened. That one was on the opposite stand, and at first Ginny thought they were the usual fireworks and flares some fans usually snuck in. But as the screams rang out, she and everyone else quickly realised they were screams of fear. As smoke billowed out, she and Dean both stood, realising they needed to get out quickly. Already the players and officials were being ushered off the field.
Dean grabbed Ginny's hand and they, along with everyone else around them, began to move, heading for the exits, when BOOM! The second explosion hit, right near them. Ginny felt herself falling, then there was blackness.
How long she was unconscious for, she didn't know. She woke dazedly and found herself lying down, in a cloud of smoke and a tangle of bodies. "Dean?" she coughed. Miraculously, she was still holding his hand, so she squeezed, but there was no response. "Dean?" she cried out, her voice hurting from the smoke and heat.
There was no reply, not from anybody around her.
She tentatively moved; her whole body ached. Her side hurt the worst. Somehow she rolled over; crying out when a body moved near her. She used her other hand to feel for a pulse on Dean's hand, but there was nothing. Her eyes filled with tears. "Help! Help me...please, somebody help me." Her voice was croaky and she craved water.
Still no reply.
She looked around, trying to distinguish any way out, any sign of light. Everything was grey, dark, full of smoke and bodies. Was anybody looking for survivors? What if she was the only living being amongst the dead?
"Help, I'm here," she cried, as loud as she could.
Miraculously, she heard something in reply. "I'm here," she cried out, head turning one way then the other, trying to find the source.
"Keep talking. I'm making my way over to you," a man called out in reply.
Tears ran freely down her face. "Oh, thank God. I'm waving my arms, I don't know if you can see me or not, I can't see you," she called out.
"No, but you sound close. Keep talking," he urged.
"Okay...er, I don't know what to say. Are you with the police? I was unconscious for awhile, I have no idea how long it's been since the explosion went off. I – ahhhh!" She cried out when he grabbed her hand.
"It's okay, it's me," he soothed. "I reckon it's been a couple of hours, maybe more since the explosion."
"So how are we getting out?" she asked him. He looked the same age as her, his hair was dusty, his glasses sat oddly on his face, which was streaked with dirt and blood, and his top was torn. She imagined she looked much the same.
"I have no idea. I've been moving around, hoping to hear someone, anyone's voice. Then I heard yours, and here I am," he said, trying to sound cheerful.
"So you're not a rescuer?" she asked, crestfallen.
"Nope, just a football fan. Although I am a policeman, but I just started a month ago," he replied.
"Were you here alone?" she asked, conscious that she was holding both Dean's hand and the stranger's.
"No, I was with my best friend, Neville. He went to the loo about ten minutes before the explosion. I-I hope he's okay. Oh, I'm Harry, by the way."
"I'm Ginny. Not the best way to meet, but I have never been so glad to see anyone in my life," she said reverently.
He chuckled, liking that she had a sense of humour, even in this terrible time. "What about you, were you here alone?" he asked.
Tears filled her eyes again. "My friend Dean was with me, right next to me, in fact. But I think he...I think he's dead," she said, holding up their still joined hands.
"Shit! Hang on," he told her, and let go of her hand.
"No, don't leave me, please," she cried out, reaching for him.
"It's okay, I'm just going to check your friend," he reassured her, moving over and around her.
She shifted a bit to give him room. She saw him check Dean's pulse, then look back at her. "I'm sorry, Ginny. He's gone."
She bit her lip, but couldn't keep the sobs down. Harry gathered her in his arms, rocking her as she wept for her friend. "I'm sorry, so sorry," he kept murmuring.
Eventually, she stopped. "I want to get out of here. Why haven't they come to find us?" she asked, sniffing and wiping her nose on her sleeve.
He hesitated, and she got the feeling he knew something he didn't want to tell her. "Tell me," she urged. "Please, I'd rather know the worst."
He nodded. "I think part of the stadium has collapsed on us. We're trapped. I have no idea which way to go to get out. We can try and work ourselves one way or the other, or we can wait here."
She gulped. "Do you think it was a bomb?" she asked.
He looked grim as he nodded. "I reckon, yeah."
She took a breath. "Whatever we do, we do together, yeah?" She let go of Dean's hand and reached for his again, gripping it tightly.
He squeezed it. "Yeah, together," he said. "So, move or stay?" He was all for keeping moving while they could.
"Move," said Ginny, and he sighed in relief that she wasn't some simpering girl, waiting to play the damsel in distress. Sure, she'd had her cry, it was to be expected. Shock and fear could reduce anyone to tears. Hell, he'd shed a few tears himself just listening to her.
"Let's go," he said.
"Right beside you," she said grimly.
His head was pounding and her side ached. When she pressed a hand to it, her shirt was wet, and she wondered if she was bleeding. But she said nothing to him, and they continued on.
They clamoured over bodies, stopping to grab bottles of drink or food they found along the way. "We'll need sustenance," reminded Harry, lucking out when they found a bag full of goodies.
Suddenly, there was a grinding sound. "What was that?" asked Ginny, looking up as dust and debris rained down over them. She held a bag over her head so she wouldn;'t get hit. Harry did the same.
Harry looked up, then back at her. "I think they might be trying to grind through metal to open up paths looking for survivors," he lied. In truth, he thought it was possible the stand may collapse on top of them.
"Oh, good," she said. "Should we stop for a bit, then?" she asked hopefully.
He nodded. "Here." He passed her a bottle of water.
She took it, wincing as she tried to sit up. "You're hurt?" he asked. "Why didn't you say something?"
He moved closer, lifting her tee shirt and gasping at the blood. "Jesus!"
She batted him away pulling down her tee shirt. "It's fine, I'm – what are you doing?"
He ripped off his own tee shirt and placed it against her side, under her top. "Hold it tight against your side. We'll rest here," he told her.
"They might find us soon," she agreed, passing him the water. She lay back, facing him. "Talk to me. Tell me about yourself," she encouraged.
He lay next to her. "Pretty boring topic, really."
She shrugged. "So bore me. I'm not stupid, Harry. I know that sound wasn't the sound of rescuers or grinding."
He rolled over and looked at her, into her deep brown eyes. She met his gaze steadfastly. "The stand that was above us... it could collapse on us, couldn't it?" she asked.
He slowly nodded, admiring that she didn't flinch or look scared, just resolute. "Right. So, tell me all about Harry...?"
"Potter, Harry James Potter. Erm, I was born in a little village named Godric's Hollow, lived there till I moved to London, about six weeks ago, I reckon. My mum's name is Lily, my dad is James, hence the middle name. Both still living," he said. "I have a younger sister, Rose, she's fifteen."
"Are you close?" she asked.
He nodded. "Yeah. Mum's a bit over protective of us, we're all the family she has left. Dad's a lot of fun, always up for a laugh. Between him and my godfather, Sirius, well, life's never dull."
"They sound great," said Ginny, liking the way he lit up as he talked about his family. So many people her age dismissed their parents, but Ginny loved and respected hers in much the same way Harry seemed to. "How old are you?"
"Eighteen this July, the thirty first. You?" he asked. He figured she was about the same age.
"Seventeen on August eleventh," she replied. "Both Leos," she noted.
They exchanged quick life stories, each making the other laugh when talking about her brothers or his godfather. They confided hope and dreams for the future that they silently realised now may never be met.
They had no idea how long they had been trapped, when Harry noticed that Ginny had been quiet for a long time while he talked about starting his training as a police officer. "Ginny?"
She roused when he called her name again. "Hmmm?"
She felt his hand on her forehead; she batted it away. "Go away, 'm sleepy," she grumbled.
"No, don't go to sleep," he ordered.
"Cold," she said, shivering. She huddled against his side.
He drew her close, needing her warmth as much as she needed his. "Keep talking," he pleaded softly. "Tell me again about your home, the Burrow." He pressed a kiss to her forehead.
Ginny smiled at the thought of her home. She closed her eyes, picturing it in her mind as she began to recite details of the rooms, the grounds and the pond.
When she stopped, she expected questions, but there was silence. That frightened her more than ever. "Harry?"
She opened her eyes and looked up at him. His eyes were closed and he looked to be sleeping peacefully. She pummelled his chest. "Harry!"
His eyes jerked open. "Wha-?" he began, when she flung herself on him, hugging him tight.
She tried to hide a sob. "I thought..."
He stroked her hair, it was soft and smelt faintly flowery, despite the fact they'd been trapped for hours now. "Hush, I'm fine."
She lay there, feeling safe in his arms. "We're going to die here, aren't we?"
For a brief moment, he considered lying to her, but knew it was pointless. "Yeah, looks like."
They clung together as they contemplated that fact.
"Well, damn, I didn't want to die a virgin," she said unexpectedly.
Harry snorted, then chuckled, then couldn't stop himself from a full belly laugh. Damn, she was something.
"What are you laughing about? Have you had sex?" she asked, grumpily.
"Yeah, I have actually. My high school girlfriend, her sixteenth birthday. We broke up a month later, she started dating my team-mate on the school football team," he said cheerfully.
"You don't sound broken hearted or anything," noted Ginny. She lifted her head and rested it on her hand on his chest.
Absent-mindedly, he stroked her hair again, liking the way it framed her face. "I knew I wanted to become a police constable, and would have to move to London. A break up was inevitable at some point. Still, I had sex," he said proudly.
"Is it all it's cracked up to be?" she asked curiously.
"You and Dean, you never...?" he asked.
"No, he's just a friend. We tried the dating thing, but it's better this way." She felt sad, remembering that Dean was gone. "So, sex?"
"Erm...it's good, yeah," he said, squirming.
"You sure about that?" she teased.
"I think..." He put one hand under his head and looked up. "I think sex is good, but when you meet the right person, you know, the right person for you, sex would be brilliant. You really have to give yourself up to that person, you know? Let them see all of you, let them in where no one else can go. That takes a lot of courage."
"So you believe sex is better when you're in love with the person?" she clarified.
He nodded. "If you love that person, you don't mind letting them see that...vulnerability, I guess. Seeing someone naked, seeing the real them," he said, thinking out loud.
"And them seeing you for who you really are," finished Ginny.
He focused back on her. "Yeah," he agreed. "A lot of girls at school are really hung up on their hair and make up, or their weight. When Chrissy and I did it, she wanted to do it with the lights out," he revealed.
"But how did you know where things went?" she asked, teasingly.
He gently pulled her hair in recrimination and she chuckled; it was something her brothers might do. "We managed just fine," he told her.
"How many times did you do it?" she asked.
"Twice," he said proudly.
Ginny sighed and lay her head on his chest. "I would have liked to do it just once."
They lay together and drifted off to sleep.
Another groaning sound woke them, louder than before. Ginny cried out, clinging to Harry. He tried to roll her so he lay over her to take the brunt, but she panicked, thinking he was trying to release her, so she clung tighter. "I want to go home," she cried.
"Sssh, Ginny, it will be all right," he soothed, although every instinct in him screamed for survival.
She shook her head. "I want to see my parents again, I want to see my brothers. I want to feel the sunshine on my face. I want to swim in my pond. I want to -"
He kissed her. Mostly to shut her up, but the moment they kissed, they felt electricity run through each of their bodies.
To his surprise, she kissed him back. As their mouths plundered each other, he thought to himself how much better it was kissing Ginny than kissing Chrissy Henderson.
He felt himself get hard, and knew she must have felt it too. He rubbed himself against her, and she ground her body back against his. Shit, were they dead already, because he felt like he was in heaven?
He kissed down her throat and around her ear. She arched her body, and he ached to see it, touch it all.
Suddenly they seemed to become aware of their surroundings. "Harry," she breathed heavily in his ear, "we can't. Not here...not like this."
"I know," he said, and he meant it.
She caressed his face and they kissed again; slowly, sweetly. "It will be quick, won't it?"
At first he thought she meant sex, but then she realised she was talking about dying this way. "Yeah," he said sadly.
"Then hold me and don't let go," she implored.
He kissed her forehead, and he held her as they waited for death.
~00~
They woke when hands reached out to separate them, fighting to stay together. "No, no," she cried.
"No, Ginny," cried Harry, when gentle hands forced them apart.
"It's okay. You're okay," reassured their rescuers.
"We're not dead?" asked Harry, as he was offered a sip of water.
"Easy now. No, you're not dead. How, I don't know," chuckled a man in a uniform. "I'm Mike, Search and Rescue."
"Harry. Not the best way to meet, but I have never been so glad to see you in all my life." He parroted Ginny's greeting to him.
Mike chuckled as he assessed Harry's body for damage. He winced as Mike prodded the lump on his head. "Probably a concussion," he noted, shining a light in Harry's eyes. "You got off lightly."
"Is Ginny all right?" he asked worriedly. "She's hurt pretty bad on her side."
"My partner is taking care of her, buddy. Hey, can we get a stretcher here?" called Mike.
"I can walk...I think," said Harry, trying to get up.
Mike lay a hand on his shoulder. "Woah, take it easy. You've been trapped here for over eight hours. You're leaving on a stretcher, buddy."
"Are my parents here?" he asked.
Mike looked sad. "There are a lot of people waiting for news of loved ones. I'm sure your parents are out there, waiting for you. Ah, here we go. Your ride, Harry," he said.
Two paramedics helped him onto the stretcher. "They'll look after you, Harry. Good luck, buddy."
"Thanks, Mike. I owe you a pint when this is all over," promised Harry.
Mike smiled. "I'll take you up on that. Go on, take him," he said, gesturing, and Harry was lifted and taken away, while Mike continued on to look for more survivors.
~00~
His parents found him in the hospital. "Harry, oh my god, you're all right?" sobbed Lily, rushing in to his room.
"I'm fine, Mum. They said they'll probably even let me go home, they need the beds," said Harry, wincing as his mum hugged him tight. "Dad, a little help here?"
Lily let Harry go, and Harry sighed in relief, only to have his dad hug him even harder, if that were possible. "We thought..." James couldn't go on, he was too emotional.
"I know, me too," said Harry, his voice thick. He looked over to see his younger sister weeping quietly. "Come here, Rosie," he offered, his arms wide.
Rose flung herself onto Harry, sobbing. "I thought we lost you, Harry."
He held his sister as she cried. "I'm fine," he told her, "just a bump on the head." He looked over at his parents. James held Lily, and they both had tears in their eyes. "Have you seen Neville?" he asked fearfully.
"He's fine, he was helping people get out," confirmed James. "He's been frantic, looking for you."
"I'm glad he's all right," said Harry, relieved. "The girl I was with, do you have any news on her? Ginny, Ginny Weasley?" he asked.
Lily shook her head. "I don't even know if she's in this hospital, they were taking people to different hospitals because of the high number of injured. I doubt they'd tell us anything because we're not her family."
"She was brilliant," said Harry quietly. "I don't know if I could have survived if it weren't for her."
"Then somehow we'll find her and thank her," vowed Lily.
Harry nodded and lay back against the pillows, listening to his mother going on about the feast she'd make to welcome him home.
~00~
"I wouldn't have survived if it wasn't for Harry," insisted Ginny, giving her statement.
"That's Harry James Potter?" asked the investigator, checking his facts.
"Yes," winced Ginny as she moved. "His parents live in Godric's Hollow, but he now lives in London. He's just started training to become a policeman," she said.
"Thank you for your time, Miss Weasley. We may have follow up questions," said the investigator.
"When Ginny is released from the hospital, she'll be recuperating at our family home in Devon," said Molly Weasley, her mother.
The investigator nodded, checked the address in Devon, and left. Ginny sighed in relief. "Thank God that's over. So many questions," said Molly. She looked at her daughter. "All right, love?"
Ginny nodded. "It was hard seeing Dean's parents, then seeing the investigator. I will be out of here in time for Dean's funeral, won't I?" she pleaded. "I have to go. I owe it to Dean."
"You'll do whatever the doctor deems best, Ginevra," warned her mother.
Ginny sighed and looked at her dad. He winked at her and she relaxed. Her dad would always make things right.
"Rest up now, dear. It's the best thing for you," said Molly gently.
"Has there been any word of Harry?" she asked.
"No dear, sorry. I'm not even sure he's at this hospital," said Molly.
Ginny leaned back against her pillow. She'd like to see Harry again, just to say thank you. Thank you for being my pillar of strength, my rock. Thank you for holding me, helping me...kissing me.
~00~
The fatalities were high, but considering the number of spectators that had been there, it was miraculous it hadn't been higher. But the number of injured were in the thousands, a lot with long term injuries, including some losing limbs. All in all, both Harry and Ginny seemed to come out of the tragedy relatively unscathed. Unless one counted the mental anguish they faced, for they were forever changed by their experience.
A terrorist group claimed responsibility for some political reason that meant nothing to Ginny. She allowed herself to heal at her parent's home, known as the Burrow. Her body recovered but she was plagued with nightmares and insomnia. She hated large crowds where she felt suffocated and froze at loud noises, like a car backfiring or the fireworks her twin brothers made. Once outgoing and popular, she now chose solitude over dating or even going out with friends. She decided on a career path, but it didn't work out well. Eventually she became a physical education teacher, happy at least, to do a job that included sports. Once upon a time she had been a fierce competitor, until a fateful day in May took away her confidence.
She often wondered how Harry had fared. He appeared frequently in her dreams, helping her, reassuring her, holding her. Kissing her.
She had sent a letter to Harry Potter, care of Godric's Hollow, hoping she had remembered correctly him saying it was a small village. If so, hopefully the post office there would know where to forward it. However, she never received a reply, and she wondered if Harry had been inundated with mail like she had been, from people she didn't even know, simply offering her sympathy and best wishes; some asking for money because they had seen her photo in the paper. Some had even been mean and crude, and in the end, she stopped looking at all of them. Perhaps the same had happened to Harry.
She probably wrote twenty, forty, sixty letters to him over the course of the years. She never sent them; wouldn't have a clue where he was and never even thought about searching for him, but it helped her to open her heart and soul to the only other person who had a clue of what it had been like, even if it was just on paper. That felt more therapeutic to her than some of the ridiculous exercises the counsellor she had been forced to attend, had suggested.
Eventually she married and became a mother. Her husband had been someone she had known from childhood; he was comfortable and safe. She still struggled some days, especially around the anniversary, and that damn invitation that came every year, asking her and her husband to attend a memorial service. She had attended the first one, hoping to see Harry, but had never gone again. How could she go, when some days around May 2, she struggled to even get out bed, let alone head to the city and have complete strangers begging her to re-live the worst thing that had ever happened to her?
Her husband was especially kind and understanding on these days; he was such a sweet gentle man. She sometimes wondered if he didn't deserve better, but when the kids came, it helped divert her attention and the good days definitely outnumbered the bad days after that.
The years went by, so quickly; too quickly. But not a day went by that Ginny didn't think about Harry, even just for a second, and hope that he was safe, happy and loved.
She couldn't deny that every time she read about a policeman being injured or killed in the line of duty, she always checked the name, her heart beating just a bit faster.
They were linked by a tragedy that happened when they were teenagers, many years ago.
But Fate wasn't done with them yet.
A/N 2 And that's the end of the Angst!