"Geroff-! Ginny, what the— Ow!—"
Anger, he had expected. After all, in the month that had passed since that fateful night in the great hall, Harry Potter had not so much as written a single word of hello to Ginny Weasley. For a whole month. On a normal scale, a month was barely significant for a man to recover from the trauma that had marked Harry's previous year. On the Weasley scale, however, a few days were considered perfectly reasonable to recover from minor setbacks i.e. repeated attacks on one's life by the most sadistic dark wizard known to mankind. A week was treading dangerous territory. A whole month, however, was nothing short of suicidal. Now, standing on a hill some distance away from the Burrow, Harry wondered if he wouldn't rather have another go at Voldemort than face the wrath of Ginny Weasley.
The scorching June sun had nothing on the blazing anger in Ginny's narrowed eyes, lit up furiously. "Whole-Bloody-Month-Potter-And-I-Get-Not-One-Single-Goddamn-Letter!" Each word was punctuated by a sharp jab around Harry's head. His temple was beginning to throb. Come to think of it, he wondered if he weren't suffering a concussion yet.
Thinking he better stop her before any permanent damage was done, Harry grabbed Ginny's hands tightly in his own. It was another reason, if he needed one, to touch her after a month of not being near her. "I'm sorry," he said with as much sincerity as he could muster. "I'm sorry. I just didn't think—"
"That, Harry, is obvious." Glaring, Ginny flopped down on the grass and proceeded to mutilate a chicken sandwich from the picnic Mrs. Weasley had so kindly packed them.
Sighing resignedly, Harry sat down beside her. A whole jumble of apologies and pleas popped into his head, but Harry kept his mouth shut. Ginny wasn't one who took kindly to excuses. Harry ran his hand through his hair, messing it up further. "You're angry. You should be. I know I should've written. I just…" He paused, and grabbed a water bottle. Ginny raised her eyebrows in question.
He took a huge swig of water. "Sorry. Okay, it's not a good excuse. Not nearly good enough. I just needed some time to think. The Horcruxes, and Voldemort and just the whole damn year. I just kept going that whole time, you know? I didn't really have time to sit down and think anything over much. It was like I was outside myself or something." He closed his mouth again, wondering if he should just take a chance and run for it. This was followed by a vivid image of his mutilated corpse lying under Ginny's wand. He decided he better continue. "And well, it was all over and stuff, and there were so many things I hadn't figured out yet. So I figured, I would maybe just take a break. Walk around without my hands on my wand the whole time, and just think. So I did. And anyways, it took me only three weeks to figure out that I would rather not be alone then. And so—"Harry gestured desperately around him. "Here I am."
Ginny looked thoroughly unimpressed. "That's it then?" she asked. "That's your reason for ignoring us for a month. You needed to think? And this whole time, you couldn't have written your two best friends, one of whom spent the better part of a month crying over you, a single bloody letter? Or Mum, who practically tore the house to shreds, the morning she discovered you weren't in your bed?"
Harry could feel his face burning. "Well…I—"
"Or how about your godson, Teddy, who's only just lost his parents and hasn't spent a moment with his godfather since he was born?" Ginny's voice was increasing in decibels as she continued her tirade. "Or maybe, me, who has spent a whole month beating her pillow wondering where her boyfriend, whom she has not seen for more than a few days the whole year, has gone off to!"
Rarely, in the year something since they had been together, had Harry seen Ginny Weasley furious as she was now. Her red face nearly matched her fiery hair, and she was sitting on her knees with her fists clenched so tight, her knuckles were white.
"Look, you're right," he said, guilt heavy in his voice. "I messed up. But I'm here now. And anyways, what would I have written. Sorry for walking out on everyone, I just wanted to think for a month? That would've made so much sense."
"No one expects sense from you, Harry," Ginny muttered, still angered, though her expression had softened some. "Honestly, a single letter though. I nearly went mad…"
"So did I," Harry replied earnestly, desperate to make amends. "Thinking of you the entire time, knowing I had left the chance of being with you again, wondering if I'd have it back when I returned. I didn't expect you to sit around waiting for me. But you did, and I'm grateful. And besides— "
Harry's speech was suddenly cut short. When he returned to his senses, Harry would realize that he was flat on his back on the rough grass, his glasses askew on his nose, his robes disheveled, and Ginny Weasley kissing him as she hadn't in ages.
Breathing heavily, Harry spoke through the fog that had clouded his brain. "So I take it you're not mad at me anymore?"
Laughing, Ginny leaned down to kiss him once again. "Yes, I am. But call me selfish, I haven't had a good snog in months. Besides, I can only hate you for so long. It gets a little–" Abruptly, Ginny found herself on her back, Harry's face leaning over her, grinning and smug. "It's alright Ginny, you can't help yourself. Girls have a tendency to lose their minds around me."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "And still you continue to be so modest about it."
Harry leaned down to capture her lips once more. Having gone months without her taste, Harry could not get enough of it now. He kissed her harder, one hand falling to her hair to unwrap it from its confines. Unfortunately, in his haste to free her locks, Harry got his hand tangled in her hair band.
"Ow!" Ginny turned her head in pain. "Harry, what are you–"
"Sorry," he muttered, bringing his lips back on hers, not sounding very sorry at all. Ginny gave up talking, and wrapped her arms tightly around his shoulders, pulling him in closer. "I missed you," she murmured against his lips. He made a gesture that may have been a nod, and continued to press her back further into the ground. Had they really gone so long without this? Hadn't he always been here, making her nerves tingle, and her skin feel more alive than it ever did without him around?
Some indeterminable time later, they pulled apart, breathless and flushed. "How did I manage a whole month without kissing you?" Harry asked, grinning.
"Incredible self-restraint?" Ginny offered.
"Incredibly lunacy, more like," he retorted, as to which Ginny laughed. She pushed him off her and pulled them both to their feet. "Let's finish lunch. Mum will have kittens if she finds we've let her precious food go to waste. Though come to think of it, I don't see why we can't just be straight with her. "
"I'm sure she'd understand," Harry responded drily. "Sorry for not finishing the pie, Mrs. Weasley. I was too busy devouring your daughter instead."
Ginny threw her head back and laughed. "Don't look so shocked, Mum, just because my robes are all messed and my hair is out of place. I assure you, me and Harry were perfectly innocent trapped on that lonely hill all by ourselves. Can you imagine her face? Or Ron's?"
Harry gulped. "Let's not joke about that. I don't fancy being Ron's dinner tonight."
"No need to worry, Harry. I'm sure Ron's on to his second helping of Hermione as we speak."
Harry grimaced. "Too much information, thanks."
"Oh please," Ginny quipped. "Like we don't all know what they're up to, trapped in the attic all day. Dusting and sweeping my arse. The only thing Ron is sweeping—"
"Okay, you can stop!" Harry interjected. "Pleased as I am to hear the intimate details of my best mate's love lives, I do take Hermione as a sister, so…"
"Alright, alright," Ginny relented. "Let's not waste any more time on that brother of mine. Now, about this picnic…"
Harry took out his wand and effectively Evanescoed the entire contents of the basket. Grinning at Ginny's shocked expression, he pulled her close. "I'm not hungry."
The wrath of a Weasley was definitely a force to be reckoned with, Harry thought. But the love of a Weasley had this strange tendency to make you feel as though the world was yours for the asking.
