A/N: SECOND
'nuff said.
stuff.
DISCLAIMER: I DON'T OWN ANYTHING THAT J.K. ROWLING OWNS (which is quite sad. I wish I made that much moolah)
Breakfast was a somber affair. Harry was beyond melancholy. Even Ron's attempts did nothing to help him. Hermione's recital of the exact ingrediants in a happiness potion and the suggestion of a cheering charm did not help matters. Mrs. Weasley's wonderful breakfast was not eaten. The meal passed slowly. George had chosen to eat with Angelina, while Percy… Well, Mrs. Weasley truthfully had no idea where he was. His hand on the clock was teetering between "lost," "traveling," and "work." Her only guess was that he was at a different house. The family had made their amends with him after the war, but they still had no idea of his whereabouts half the time. After breakfast, Hermione grabbed a book from her room and curled up on a battered, frayed, and extremely fluffy red armchair by the fire. Ron sat on the floor in front of her and challenged Harry to a game of wizard chess. Harry declined, instead opting for staring mournfully out of the window. Ron then annoyed Hermione by constantly asking what her book was about. Then George arrived through the fireplace with a cloud of soot, extremely messy hair, and a half unbuttoned shirt. This was not surprising considering the bright red lipstick marks trailing from his cheek to his ear, down his jaw, and disappearing around his collar bone. Ronald guffawed at the sight.
"Angelina sends her regards." He said, winking at Ron and strutted into the kitchen to badger Mrs. Weasley about leftovers from breakfast. He was lucky, there was plenty.
Like any normal chaotic Weasley morning, it just wouldn't be complete if someone didn't upset everyone's calm and turn their world upside down. Or in this case, right side up. You see, a certain red-haired girl had just spent the night in a muggle tavern and was in need of a certain someone to cheer her up. Unfortunately, that certain someone was in no condition to cheer anyone up. In fact, he was in need of some happiness himself. So, that certain girl, who need cheering up from her certain someone, decided that she would have to take matters in her own hands and do it for herself. She would have to swallow her pride and return to the place she'd left. After all, she'd been through worse things. For example, waiting a year for her love, not knowing if he was alive or dead? Yeah, she'd been there.
Harry was interrupted from his morose gazing by a bang on the front door. Shouts of surprise echoed from the kitchen where Mrs. Weasley was brewing potions, and where George was eating and probably planning pranks (or making them considering he hadn't pulled one in a while).
BANG!
There it was again. Mrs. Weasley peered out from the kitchen doorway and frowned, "That's odd," she said, "The door's not locked. Maybe it's Arthur. He probably isn't able to open it." She didn't say what she was really thinking: maybe it's Ginny. Mrs. Weasley walked to the door and looked out the window beside it.
"Harry," she said, not turning her head to look at him. "Would you come here and open this for me?" Everyone except Harry saw her mischievous smile. She closed the curtain and looked at him expectantly.
"Okay," he said, shuffling over to the door.
Mrs. Weasley left and made such an attempt to be inconspicuous that she ended up knocking over a self-stirring pot still on the kitchen table. The day was bright and sunny, but nobody was in a happy mood. They waited in anticipation for Harry to open the door.
He did.
"Ginny," he said curtly. She said nothing. Everyone could see the pain clearly on her face. Harry's face was worse. He looked as if he'd seen his death.
She pushed past him where everyone could see her. At first glance, she appeared to look the same as last night. But looking closer you would notice that the duffle bag was battered and stained, her hair was tangled and matted. She looked as if she'd slept badly. Her clothes were dirty and even though she was carrying a duffle bag, she had not changed. Her Harpies t-shirt was so tattered she probably would never be able to wear it again.
She turned, "Harry?"
He spoke hurriedly, "Ginny! I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have done that. Those people -"
She interrupted him, "No! Harry, if anyone should be sorry, it's me. I'm an idiot! I over-reacted. Those people weren't doing anything wrong. You are completely -"
He interrupted her, "I should have told you, though! I've never told you anything about... about horcruxes or the war. I need to trust you. And those people were being nosey. I -"
He was interrupted again by Ginny. "Harry, stop interrupting me!"
He finally did.
"I love you," she said.
He smiled a great big, lopsided smile that brightened the whole room. No one had noticed how his bad mood had been affecting them. Their spirits lifted with his.
"I love you too, Ginny."
She stepped forward and he met her halfway. He wrapped his arms around her, and she burrowed her head into his shoulder. He murmured into her fiery mass of tangles, "I missed you."
She snorted and grinned, "I was only gone for a night."
Harry closed his eyes and nuzzled further into her curls. "Still," he protested.
They stood like that for the longest time. There was, again, silence. It was a quiet comfort. At last, there was peace.
A/N: Yayyyyyyyy stuuuuffffff yeeeeaaaaahhhhhhhhhhh
:)
Review?
PLEASE?
I'M DESPERATE!
Sort of.
I mean, you don't HAAAVVEE to...
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but i want you to...
ENOUGH WITH THE GUILT TRIPPING, CHIPPY!
and stop talking to yourself too!
okay. fine.
check out my new pollllllllll!
