He was breathless from dancing and laughing, but he knew he was being a coward. Instead of getting one drink and going to her he had allowed himself to be drawn into the celebrating throng. He had told himself it was his duty to them, but deep inside he knew he was just avoiding talking to Ginny. Harry sighed and steeled himself to go over to her – after that drink. He gently disentangled himself from the still-celebrating throng and made his way to the bar here at the Hog's Head.
'A pint please … whatever's strongest, thanks.'
Harry was steeling himself, 'getting some backbone' as he called it. It was time. They had been celebrating for days now, and he had of course seen Ginny, even talked to her about inconsequential things. But it had never seemed to be the right moment to have that real talk; there were always so many other people around. But avoidance wasn't going to make it any easier. In fact he was finding it more difficult by the minute.
Glancing down the bar he noticed that she was also apart from the crowd. Of course: for the Weasleys this celebration was inevitably tinged with sadness. A shiver of fear shot through him as he thought about what that sadness might mean for her, for them, but he pushed it firmly aside and moved over to her. He had to remind himself once again that he had defeated Voldemort; so why was he finding this so hard?
'Hi Harry' she smiled, too brightly. 'Great party, isn't it?'
'What? Oh … er … yeah. I guess so.' Harry smiled nervously. 'Listen, Ginny … it's a bit loud in here. D'ya want to go for a walk, or something?'
Instantly understanding why he was so nervous Ginny slid off her stool and slipped her hand into his. Squeezing his hand reassuringly she drew him out of the room and into the cool of the dusky evening.
She knew what was coming, that he finally wanted to talk properly, and nerves assaulted her. Her hand trembled in his as they walked, but she drew comfort from the fact that he didn't pull away from her. Surely if he wanted to make their break up permanent he wouldn't hold her hand so tightly. Surely? Finally he spoke.
'Ginny, I …' Harry took a deep breath and turned to face her, still holding one of her hands firmly in his. In that moment Ginny knew she had to speak first or lose the chance to speak at all.
'No, I need to say something Harry.' She looked up at him and was astonished to feel tears in her eyes. Not now of all times! She was not going to cry. Taking a quick moment to gather her thoughts and blink the tears away, Ginny almost lost herself in his green eyes.
'I waited all year for you.' She murmured.
I know … I …' he stammered out.
For some reason his nerves relaxed her and she grinned cheekily: 'I'm not finished, Harry Potter.'
'Sorry,' he smiled down at her, beginning to relax himself.
'That's better,' she grinned, before continuing. 'I went through hell imagining what you were doing and where you were … and it must have been even worse for you. But never once during that time did I doubt you.'
Dammit the tears were coming again. Her emotions were poised so closely between laughter and agony these days that she was swinging madly from one extreme to the other.
Harry breathed in her scent as they stood there, taking in what she was saying along with the sweet smell of her. She was trembling again, her poise shattering as she relived the past. His heart was thumping in his chest as he listened to her speak, hearing her voice crack with the memories. Anxious thoughts skated through his mind: What was she saying? Didn't she want him anymore?
'When I thought you were -- well, when Hagrid brought you out of the forest …' Harry grimaced, remembering again the sound of her agonised voice ripping through him, and she squeezed his hand again and continued, 'I died inside. It was like the world ended.'
Without really realising how it happened his arms had wound around her and he was whispering apologies to her, burying his face in her hair so she wouldn't see the tears slipping down his face too. He knew without her having to explain that what he had done, what he'd had to do, had hurt her unbearably; it showed in the way she was standing so closed in on herself and in the voice that seemed diminished somehow from the one he remembered. But he also knew that he didn't need to explain himself; she understood why he had done it.
'Ginny … Gin, I'm sorry.' He cupped her face in his hands, silently begging her to look at him. 'I wish I could have spared you from it, but I couldn't. All I can do is tell you that when I thought it was over...' He stopped and took one deep, sharp breath in and her arms clutched convulsively around him, 'I thought of you. You were the last thing to cross my mind. And I swear to you, I swear … that if you'll have me again you will always be the last thing I think of.'
She did let out a sob then, and buried her face in his chest. After a moment she pulled herself together and looked up at him. He was looking at her earnestly and with a little uncertainty. His insecurity tugged at her heart and made her reach up to him, a fierce and possessive look on her face. After everything, it seemed he was still unsure whether she would forgive him for breaking up with her, for leaving her to her worry and fear for so many long months. So she let him know without words. Their lips met and she promised him silently that she would always be there for him.