Before I begin, I must thank my two lovely reviewers! :D
IrishEyesAreSmiling: Here you are! XD
Pahjeh19: I know, it's so overdone, but I really couldn't help myself! I enjoy reading them so much! Really, you think I'm well written? Thank you so much.
Also, before I start, I wanted to apologize to everyone who read the first chapter; I noticed too late that there were some minor spelling mistakes. If you don't know this now, then you will later, but I despise spelling and grammatical mistakes, so I'll try to proofread more carefully. I think I just got caught up in the moment and excited. X3
Okay, here's another chapter! I know it's not last night, but oh well. XD I'm having so much fun writing this. Thank you so much for reading, following, reviewing, and Lord knows what else. X3 I'll try to update as often and as well written as I can.
2
Harry only wanted to have a walk around the orchards with her. He didn't really see that as a difficult request.
Upon arriving at the Burrow, this thought stuck into his mind so fiercely that he even began to imagine how to sneak away. A part of him, the small part that wasn't imagining Ginny and her beautiful hair, her wonderful lips, told him that he was being irresponsible and rude. He should think of the Weasley family first. They had just lost a son, and a brother. It was wrong of him to want to sneak away, if not just to escape the terrible guilt that followed with each pair of accusing eyes.
None of them blamed him, he knew that; he couldn't help but feel, though, that there was something guarded and hidden behind the eyes that looked at him but didn't see. Mrs. Weasley was having difficulty answering direct questions, and was prone to dissolve into tears at random points. Mr. Weasley was silent, trying to express his grief more graciously. Bill and Charlie were trying to keep the family going, by spouting encouragement at every opportunity. Harry had only been there an hour, and he had heard the phrase "It's going to be okay" said more times than he could count. He wasn't complaining about this. He, too, had a hole in his chest that wasn't going to be filled anytime soon.
Ron was much like his father, stony silent. Percy hadn't been seen by Harry at all, though Charlie explained that he was in his room, unable to face the grief. And George… George was absolutely inconsolable. There was nothing left of the person that Harry had come to know. It was as though George's entire personality died with Fred. He was a shell that sat in a corner, there but not there, not speaking, not blinking, with the same ashen colored skin and blank eyes. Always blank eyes.
It was when he saw George that Harry felt the guiltiest. Regardless of what the other Weasleys said, the way that George sometimes looked at Harry, it was as though he was asking him why he brought this upon them. Those blank eyes that Harry couldn't stand to look at—the ones that showed no emotion—were the ones that haunted him most.
Ginny was being very brave, and Harry couldn't help but admire her even more than he already did. She hadn't cried, not in front of him, yet. Her chin was always firm, her back straight. He could see right through her, and knew that inside she was hurting and needed him. That he needed her just as much. Sometimes, their eyes would meet, rather from across the table or at a passing glance, and unspoken things would pass between them; passions that couldn't be uttered, silent pleas for alone time, for harebrained schemes to escape just for a few moments.
It was Ginny who finally found a way to leave, though not in the way Harry had in mind. The family, sans Percy, was grouped quietly at the table, not talking. There was food, excellent as always, but untouched. Bill and Charlie were making forced conversation. Mrs. Weasley was weeping silently. George sat at the far end, blank eyes staring.
Ginny met Harry's eyes, and a silent plea was there. Harry didn't understand, at first, until she acted on it.
She abruptly stood up. He wasn't sure if she was pretending or not—a part of him was convinced this was real—but her bottom lip quivered violently, and tears filled her eyes. Without saying a word, she threw down her napkin and ran from the kitchen, slamming the back door behind her.
Half the family didn't seem to notice, or to have the energy to fetch her. Mrs. Weasley and Bill made to stand up, but Harry beat them to it.
"It's okay," he said, "Stay here. I'll go help her."
Mrs. Weasley sat down, resigned, but Bill met eyes with Harry, ready to argue. Perhaps Bill read something that Harry hadn't intended to let on his face, but after a moment, he sat, too.
Harry followed Ginny out the back door, closing the door gently behind him. Blinking in the sunlight, he saw her walking hurriedly through the trees in the garden, many yards away. He followed her, jogging slightly, wanting to comfort her even if she was acting.
She stopped by a weeping willow next to the pond, well out of view from the house. Harry watched her curl into a ball and saw her shoulders shake. He felt himself go cold. This was no act.
Doubling his pace, he reached her in a span of seconds. Slightly out of breath, he sat himself beside her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder. Despite the heat today, she didn't resist, but pressed herself against him, crying quietly into his shirt. He rubbed her back lightly with fingertips, trying his best to comfort her.
The pain came unexpectedly. Maybe it was because his strong, rarely-weepy Ginny was crying on him, or maybe it was being back at the Burrow with so many happy memories, but the pain knocked the wind out of him. He couldn't swallow past the hard rock that was rapidly forming in the top of his throat. His eyes grew hot again, much like they did this morning, and he tried with all his might to blink back the wet. Strong. He had to be strong for her. But he couldn't. With Fred gone, and Ginny crying on him, and Ron silent, nothing was as it should be and his world was upside down.
And he was crying too. The tears were falling silently down his face, for everything that he had lost and for everything that he would lose. He didn't want to think about the future, rebuilding the castle and burying the dead and moving on with their lives. He wanted to sit here with Ginny and make the pain stop, for both of them. If that meant that he had to halt the world so that they could collect themselves, then damn it, he would do it. But the world, so unfair, continued to turn, and he watched the sun inch downwards in the sky through blurry eyes.
He lost track of the time, but didn't care. The only thing that mattered to him was that Ginny was still buried in his chest, no longer crying, but trying to heal a wound that he couldn't see and couldn't fix. He passed a hand over his face, wiping away the tears on his cheeks. The movement caused her to stir, and she sat up to look at him.
His heart began to ache. Her eyes were dark and wide, bruised and vulnerable. Her expression reminded him of shattered glass, so delicate but broken. There was a light missing from her eyes that he wouldn't be able to call back if he tried. Part of her was gone, forever.
He wondered, vaguely, if he was missing too. He, personally, felt as though two parts of him were gone: the part that had belonged to Fred, Lupin, and all the others, but also the part that had belonged to Voldemort. The tainted part. The part that he never wanted to call back, ever. Had something shifted in his eyes? Were they lighter, was there less worry and fear lined in his face? He had no way of knowing, and wasn't shallow enough to ask Ginny. He wouldn't do that to her when she was so lost with no way back.
Harry brushed hair from her face, thumb gently touching her cheek. She continued to look at him with those glass eyes, asking so many things at once that Harry could only guess what she truly needed. He broke the silence by saying, "I'm sorry."
It was meant for many different things, and she didn't seem to understand that. Her expression didn't change, but she looked at him as though waiting for him to continue.
He elaborated, "I'm sorry that I left you here last August. I'm sorry that I had to break your heart last year. I'm sorry if I ever led you to think that I had interest in another girl, or ever would, and that it was one of my reasons for leaving. I'm sorry that I didn't dance with you at Bill and Fleur's wedding. I'm sorry that I couldn't write to you, though I wanted to so badly. I'm sorry that I've put your family through all this. I'm sorry about your brother. But mostly, I'm sorry that we've lost a year together, one that would've been very happy. I'm sorry that I'm the Boy Who Lived."
She shook her head, absorbing his words in silence. She said, "You can't help who you are, Harry. I understood why last year, and I still do. You had to be the hero and save the world, it isn't your fault."
Something shifted in her eyes. "And it isn't your fault that Fred isn't here anymore. If he had to… You know… Go… He would've wanted it to happen… The way that it did…"
Her voice trailed off, increasingly getting higher. She swallowed sharply, and Harry's heart twisted. He took her hand, his fingers through hers.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he whispered.
She didn't give any inclination she heard him. Then, "He knew, I think. Or he had a hunch. That something would… H-happen." She took a breath. Started again. "He caught me, just before they divided everybody up. Told me that no matter what happened, I'm still the strongest person he knows and I can make it through anything." Her eyes stared straight ahead, still glassy. Harry looked at her face, drawn and pale, worried for her, chest crying for her. She went on, "I don't know if he said something to everybody else. But he said that to me. And… I'm never going to forget it… It was the last time I ever spoke to him…"
Her lips quivered again and tears filled her eyes. Harry was on the verge of telling her to stop, when she said, "And… I didn't even think anything of it. I was worried where you'd gone, and I was worried about someone getting hurt, that I didn't stop to take three seconds to tell my brother I loved him and appreciated his looking out for me for my whole life… It didn't strike me that anything would happen to us… A foolish thought, I know. I knew people were going to die, but my family has always come out strong and together through everything, that I never thought one of us wasn't going to make it…"
The pooling tears spilled, staining her face. Her nose was very red, and her lips still trembled from the restraint of control. Harry took her small face in his hands and made her look at him. She bit her lip.
"Ginny," Harry said, "You had no idea, alright? It isn't your fault. You didn't do anything wrong. Of course you were distracted, we were preparing for a battle. It's also natural to think that everyone would come out safely; I thought the same thing, though I was scared out of my mind for you and everyone else. Luck just wasn't on our side this time. We can't change anything, and if I could, then I would. I'd bring him back in a heartbeat. But that isn't possible. And it's just going to take time for everyone to accept what's happened. If there's anything you need, sweetheart, I'm never far away. Alright?"
Ginny nodded. "Okay, Harry."
His skin tingled. He loved hearing her say his name, as sad as he was, as terrible as he hurt for her and her family and for himself, there was still that uncontrollable longing to be with her. He would have to master his feelings, just like before.
He had forgotten her. As terrible as it sounded, he had forgotten just how beautiful she was. What her hands felt like; the curve of her waist and the arch of her eyebrows, her slender throat. How her body shifted and moved like his. He had forgotten, and now he remembered, and it was difficult to not look at her, to not love every detail about her face, even while staring tragedy down. It was hard to control his emotions when it came to her.
Harry stood up, and offered her a hand. She stood up, too, a head shorter than he was, her hair barely tickling his chin.
She looked up at him, and smiled. "You got taller."
Taken aback, Harry said, "I did?"
"Yes. And your hair is longer. You need to get it cut."
Harry touched the top of his head, the hair that never lay flat, the longer length. "Yes, I know. We stayed with Bill and Fleur for just a little while… I think it was in March; No… April. Fleur trimmed it for me; I guess it grows quickly."
He looked at her, now. Her hair was the same length he remembered. Her face was the same. No, it was her body that was different. The curves more pronounced. Her chest bigger. Her legs more shapely than before. He felt a blush spread across his face when he said, "You look… Older."
Red. Why did he always turn red around her?
She smiled, truly smiled, her teeth dancing in the light, and he would've traded all the gold in Gringotts to keep it there. She turned a light, delicate pink. "No hormones now, Mr. Potter."
He smiled back. "I'll try my hardest, Miss Weasley. It's not like I can control what I think and feel."
Her eyes met his under her lids, seductive. He had trouble swallowing again. The pink in her face deepened. "And what are you thinking?"
No. Not with her so vulnerable like this. He wouldn't tell her. He couldn't. Instead, he grinned at her, and said, "That's my business now. Maybe someday I'll share it with you."
All seductiveness vanished like dew in sunlight. She stuck her tongue out. "Fine. Be that way."
He took her hand. "You know I won't, not so soon."
She shook her head. "No, I know. But I can still tease you."
He looked away, suddenly slightly uncomfortable; maybe he didn't trust himself alone with her just yet, after all. "Should we head back inside?"
She nodded, and led the way, pulling him by his hand.
He wasn't sure if she walked in front of him on purpose or by mistake, but he had a lovely view of her swinging hips. Back, forth, back, forth.
Get a grip, Potter, he told himself, Now's not the time.
Back, forth, back, forth.
He forced himself to look at her dancing hair. The trees they were passing. The ground. The sky. Anything but those lovely curves.
They reached the house, and walked in the kitchen. Everyone looked up as they entered. There was something different, now. The grief was still there, but not so heavy. Some food had been picked at. There was slow talking.
Ginny and Harry resumed their seats, he next to Ron, she beside Charlie. They still sat across from each other, and when their eyes met, they would both blush and hurriedly look away, smiling slightly.
Ron said to Harry, "She looks better."
Harry nodded. "We had a talk. I think she feels better about it."
Ron looked around the table at the rest of his family. Harry noticed that Percy had joined them, munching quietly on some chicken. "We've been talking too," Ron said, "And I think it's gotten better. George is still the same… But I think that it's helped him. At least he's eating."
Harry looked over at Ron's closest brother, and saw him eating a cracker. That was a good sign.
A shrill sound of laughter lit up the entire room. Together, Harry and Ron looked to their right, at Mrs. Weasley. She had hastily covered her mouth with both hands, her eyes wide, looking as though she had let slip a nasty swear word. Her eyes darted around at everybody, anxious.
But then Bill started to laugh, too. And then Mr. Weasley. Slowly, everyone joined in the laughter, tears of mirth filling some eyes, giggles escaping from everybody. Even George let the shadow of a smile cross his face, a chuckle leaving his throat.
And Harry thought, maybe, things were better, after all.
