Come Back to Me
By Artichokie

Ginny Weasley's thoughts were focused inward. She was anxious, nearly insane with it. She was done with the fighting, done with the anguish. She understood why it was necessary, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

Everyone around her would have bet their last galleon on the theory that the majority of the fighting would have been done by now. Ginny had finished her education a year ago last month; her youngest brother, Ron, and his friends had left the year prior. But the fighting had only gotten worse. Once one foe was defeated, the next was quick to replace the fallen leader. And the one they most wanted remained as slippery as ever. It was chaos, madness—and Ginny was done with it.

No matter her insisting, Ginny hadn't been allowed to go directly into the fight. She had to watch the people she loved sacrifice themselves, watch them fall one-by-one, and she couldn't do anything to prevent it. She was almost insane with the dread.

She hadn't heard from most of her living siblings in months, her friends even longer. The only people she was in close contact with was Harry, Ron, and her parents. Well, and of course the rest of the Order members. This distance between them wasn't all that large. In fact, most of her closer relatives lived within a fifty-mile radius from the Burrow, a newly specified safe-home for the Order, and would normally have been over once every week, if not more. But they didn't even send owls—because they were afraid.

It was the fear that was keeping everyone away. No one knew who to trust or if they'd be safe just walking across their own yard. They had a hard enough time going to work everyday—and they had to go to work. If they didn't, they wouldn't get paid. If they didn't have money, they couldn't pay their bills. If they couldn't pay their bills, they'd most likely be out on the streets. And, to most, that was a fate equivalent to death, if not worse. It was the fear that was keeping their feet glued to the ground and their wings tied to their sides.

But not the Order. No, they had a new mission every day. Most were dangerous, which didn't surprise Ginny at all. She just hated watching them come and go, a morose look on their faces. She saw the exhaustion and the worry. She felt both herself. She was also restless, and that she blamed solely on everyone else.

Her anxiety was raised to a level she was unfamiliar with as she stared out at the setting sun. Last week she had learned that Ron and Harry would be accompanying a few other Order members on an extremely dangerous task. They were to leave tonight—about seven minutes ago, in fact. Harry had immediately accepted, and Ron had refused to see him go without him. Those two were tied at the ankle as far as Ginny was concerned. Neither did something without the other. Both refused to allow Ginny to fight.

She loved Harry. She had admitted as much to herself near to a thousand times over the past week. She sighed. She had never stopped. Their brief relationship had been doomed to die from the beginning; something within Ginny had quietly told her so, but she had ignored it anyway. She hadn't wanted to believe it. She still couldn't believe it, that it was truly over. She knew Harry had felt something.

Oh, sure, maybe his feelings weren't as strong as hers, and perhaps they still weren't nor ever would be, but she still had the feeling that he wasn't as nonchalant as he claimed. Not that he had said that whatever he had felt for her had died directly to her face; that would have broken her already bruised heart. Even so, she had overheard conversations between him and Ron.

Many times, when he thought she wasn't looking, she had seen him staring at her with a strange look in his eyes. A smile tugged at one corner of her mouth at the thought. No, he wasn't as indifferent as he put on. Just that thought alone gave her a tremendous amount of hope. She knew she couldn't act on it—yet. No, now wasn't the right time. They all had too much on their mind to be distracted by romance.

She removed her hand from the window and, with the back of her hand, wiped the tears that had leaked onto her cheeks from her face. She let the hand fall limply at her side as she inhaled deeply, letting the strain of the day wash over her. Her entire body ached with the tension she felt, and she couldn't see an end to it.

She was worried about everyone who went on the missions. Less and less were coming back whole, and, in a cynical way, it was becoming easier to face the news of the deaths. However, to say the news of Harry's death—which she prayed wouldn't come for a long time—wouldn't devastate her would be a lie.

She felt more tears slip out of the corners of her eyes. To wipe them away would be fruitless, so she let them slide down the sides of her face, tickling her skin as they did. They left trails of cold in their wake, causing a slight tremor to course through her body.

The hairs on the back of her neck suddenly sprang to attention. She knew the moment he had entered the room, even as she stood with her back facing the door. His presence was like a punch to the stomach: her inner organs tied into knots, and she suddenly had trouble breathing. Her pulse kicked up in her veins. She yearned to turn around, to go to him, to beg him not to go. But she refused to show him her tears. Her pride wouldn't allow herself to show him her weakness.

"Why haven't you left yet?" Ginny asked in a quiet voice, not turning away from the window. She was proud of herself for making it sound steady.

She heard him sigh. In her mind's eye, she saw him shift his weight and run his fingers through his overly-long, unkempt black hair. His green eyes were haggard, his face drooped in exhaustion. Her heart ached for him once more.

"Ginny—" he started, but stopped abruptly as he sighed once more. He mumbled something that she didn't catch. She turned her ear slightly more to him, but still refused to show him her face. He inhaled deeply as he repeated her name, but she wouldn't let him go on.

"You were supposed to leave ten minutes ago." Her voice was just as quiet as before and perhaps a little less controlled. The longer he prolonged this conversation, the longer he stood within the room, the weaker she became. If he stayed much longer, she was sure she'd be nothing more than a pile of bones and skin in front of the window.

"Are you counting?" She heard the slight amusement in his voice. She saw a reluctant half-smile form in her reflection in the glass, felt it on her lips. So maybe she was being a bit pathetic, but what else was she supposed to do? Surely not endure the parting in person! That would be heartbreaking. This conversation was heartbreaking. The half-smile fell away.

"Aren't you running late?" she asked, a slight tremble sounding in her tone. "Won't that add conflict in your schedule?"

Once more, she heard him sigh. She also heard something else: footsteps. They were almost inaudible, muffled against the rug that covered the wood flooring. In Ginny's alert state, however, her hearing was acute, and she knew what was going on. Harry had walked toward her. She felt him stop not even the length of her foot away from her. His heat, despite the space, seemed to seep into her skin through their clothing.

She wanted to lean back and bask in his warmth. She wanted to cling to him and never let go. She wanted to beg with him not to leave her—or at least persuade him to allow her to go with him. She knew none of that would happen, however. She wouldn't bring herself to begging, and she refused to give herself something more to miss.

"Ginny," he whispered into her hair. She felt the strands against her nape flutter against her skin, and she shivered. More tears sprang to her eyes. He lightly placed a hand on her left shoulder. It was hesitant at first, but then grew more confident. It rested heavily in a comforting way, his fingers resting against the front of her shoulder blade. The action pulled at Ginny's heart. She had to fight the urge to raise her hand and rest it on top of his.

"Ginny," he said again, his voice no longer a whisper, but barely above so. The pressure beneath his hand intensified as he tried to turn her around to face him. Ginny wouldn't budge, however; her pride still wouldn't let her. "Come on, Ginny. Look at me. Please."

It was the way that he said the last word that finally broke Ginny's restraint. The tension left her body and she allowed Harry to turn her. She didn't think about wiping away the tears that now flowed steadily from her eyes. As she looked up at Harry, the only thing she could coherently comprehend was the deep pain she would feel when he left, the very thing she tried to avoid—an act that, she admitted, was done in vain. That was why she had refused to go downstairs to watch him leave.

Her mind's eye had been right. His eyes were weary; his body was weak. She could see the bags beneath his eyes, could see the weariness in the lines of his face. He desperately needed a haircut. She had to curl her fingers in her palm to keep them from brushing the strands out of his eyes.

As they stared at each other, a light came into his eyes. Her heart flew, soared higher than the tallest cloud. She saw it every time she caught him staring at her, the tenderness that gave proof to his deeper, hidden, emotions. She once again told herself that he wasn't as indifferent as he put on. The seed of hope she had planted months ago began to sprout. The worry she had been feeling suddenly became near unbearable.

"Why haven't you left yet?" Ginny repeated quietly, unsure of what else to say.

His expression tensed to an almost painful look. His eyebrows faintly came together, creating a slight V-shape between his eyes. Slowly, he raised his hands until they cupped the sides of Ginny's jaw, his thumbs rubbing softly against her skin. He gently pushed her chin up until she had no choice but to meet his gaze—not that she couldn't anyway. His eyes were too alluring, had too much power over her.

"I haven't left yet," he murmured, "because I couldn't leave without saying goodbye." The tears started flowing heavily from her eyes. She tried to swallow a rather large lump that had formed in her throat, but it stuck to its walls. Her lips parted slightly, her breathing escalating. Here came her breakdown, and she wasn't sure if she was willing to let him see it. "You wouldn't come down," he continued, and Ginny suddenly stopped fighting; "and—"

"Oh, Harry!" she cried, wrapping her arms around his neck and putting her face in the crook of his neck. She let her tears come freely now, soaking the neckline of his T-shirt. His arms wrapped around her shoulders and held her close. His head came to rest on top of her head. "I worry about you so much," she whispered between sobs.

He brought one hand to rub lightly against the back of her head. "I know," he said softly; "I know."

They stood like that for several minutes. It felt like an eternity to Ginny, and she never wanted it to end. How good it felt to be held in his arms again! How she had missed this. In her more desperate times, she thought about stunning him, tying him to her bed—anything to prevent him from going. The thoughts came back to her now, but she immediately dismissed them. She couldn't keep him here even if she really wanted to. She didn't, not really. She didn't want to tie him down, no matter how much her brain protested. He was his own person; he was free to do as he pleased. So, she tightened her arms around him and held on for a little while longer.

But not long enough. Eventually, his arms began to unwind from around her. She let him pull away, her arms falling limply to her sides. His hands once more rested on her shoulders. Their eyes met and held.

I love you! Ginny wanted to shout at him. His face looked so melancholy, and she knew right then that he would do anything not to leave her. He'd finally let his guard down enough for her to see what he was hiding, and her previous presumptions were proved correct. He did feel something for her, but she knew he couldn't allow himself to be consumed by it. In her head, she repeated her three-word declaration.

As if he had heard her thoughts, she saw him perceptively nod his head once. Without thinking, Ginny stood on her toes and hastily pushed herself up against him. Wrapping her arms around his neck once more, she pulled his head toward her and gently set her lips on his. The kiss was chaste at first, Harry too shocked to respond. As her lips remained on his, however, his mouth softened and he responded with all of the passion he'd been holding back these past years. Ginny's pulse kicked up once more.

"Harry!" a baritone voice echoed into the room from the stairwell. Ginny hastily pulled away from Harry, glancing at the doorway. No one was there, but she knew they would be soon. She regretted the intrusion and hated the person immensely. "We haven't got all day!" the voice continued.

Ginny glanced back at Harry and blushed. She didn't regret her rash action and, going by the sheepish grin spreading across his face when he noticed her reddening, neither did he. They both knew their time was up. The hole that Ginny had subtly before now felt monstrous, filling her with emptiness. She unlaced her arms from around Harry and started pulling back.

Harry grabbed her wrist and stopped her retreat. Her gaze flew from his grasp and back to his eyes. They held a promise that Ginny took to heart. The tears that had already dried on her skin suddenly became liquid again as a new batch of tears started coming out of her eyes. She would see him again—alive. She was determined to, just as he was she could see.

He brought his free hand up to cup her cheek. He used the pad of his thumb to gently rub away the excess tears. Unconsciously, she turned her head into his palm, absorbing his heat, missing him already.

"Harry!" the baritone voice came once more. Harry gave Ginny a regretful smile before he let go of her wrist and dropped his hand. He walked backwards halfway across the room, never taking his eyes off of her, before he quickly twirled around and exited the room. She listened as his feet hit each step as he descended, each beat jabbing the knife of fret deeper into her. She heard muffled voices from downstairs, Harry's the most distinguished. She was sure that if she was in a room full of chattering people, she'd be able to discern Harry's voice from the rest.

Ginny heard the backdoor open, and she quickly turned back to the window. Walking into the yard, she saw three Order members that she recognized but didn't know followed by Ron and Harry. None of them were saying anything; all were too focused on the mission ahead of them. One-by-one, the group disappeared in thin air until only Harry was left.

Before he vanished, he turned his head around to stare up at Ginny's window. Ginny placed a hand back on the cool glass as she stared at Harry in the dimming light. The sun had fallen behind the horizon, leaving behind a light glow still lighting the sky. Their eyes caught, held briefly, before he sent a small smile up to her and turned around.

As he walked away, preparing himself for the departure, Ginny wanted to shout at him through the glass what she most desperately wanted from him. She couldn't seem to get her throat to work with her, however, and only managed to mouth, "Come back to me." She stood at the glass, watching him walk away and disappear into the night. She continued to stand there long after the sun's light had completely diminished, wishing she could still see him.

-Fin-

Please R/R.