He didn't truly know until he walked to his death, when the whisper of wind she must have felt as he passed her wasn't nearly enough, but the thought of saying goodbye, of admitting to her that everything they'd had, everything they could have been, all those golden days spent by the sparkling lake and rolling in the green spring grass and huddled away in empty corridors touching each other every moment they could really were fragments of a dream that had never had a chance to be realized; when the horrible, deathly certainty of never feeling her presence again sent him towards the forest instead of away, because if he stayed, he knew he'd condemn her to a war for the rest of her life. And the thought of that was more unbearable than anything else.
The night was pitch dark, the pale light from his loved ones around him casting ghostly speckles of light against the black veil cloaking the forest, waiting for him, and it was all he could do to remember the faintest hints of the person who had filled his entire being with shining, perfect joy not one year ago. He thought only of her in this darkest of moments, and he would for the rest of his life.
The first morning spilled its golden light over the smoldering castle ruins. He saw her there, standing alone in the musky glow of the leftover smoke and dust, the sunlight causing her hair to shimmer with specks of gold. It seemed like a dream, or maybe another world entirely. Their eyes met, and in one moment that seemed to take both forever and no time at all, he was clutching her closer than he ever had before, feeling the firm strength of her warm arms around him, his face buried in her sweet-smelling hair, and he realized with a crashing wave of relief that this wasn't a dream at all. She knew it too, and held on tighter.
Those three words slipped out a few days later, twisting along with the mist rising up from the lake in the grief-stricken air. Her eyes were watery as she whispered it back. They clung to each other in the cool morning air, whispering those words again and again for nobody but themselves and the forest.
They woke many times in the dark of night, sweating and screaming and accidentally hitting each other as their heartbeats steadily slowed. But this time they could hold each other, sink into each other's warmth, whisper words of comfort that they would forget and repeat many more times. Because that was enough for now.
They went to the sea sometimes, sitting on craggy rocks under a grey sky and holding hands as the water rolled and crashed in front of them. There was something about the sea that could almost make them forget if they sat there long enough, as though the crashing of waves could drown out even the loudest screams in their minds. They were together, and the world was at peace for the briefest of moments.
He said something- what it was exactly he could no longer remember- and she laughed harder than she had since they had first been together. The sound cut through the solemn morning mist like a bolt of lightning.
With the warm loudness of the Burrow behind them, they stumbled slightly through the trees, giggling and shushing each other as their hands wandered and they found each other's lips again and again
His hands and lips traveled across her skin as she writhed and moaned beneath him, gloriously beautiful in the dim light of her bedroom, her own hands at the back of his neck, sometimes gripping at his hair, before their cries reached the top of their crescendo and they sank down into each other, never leaving each other's arms as they finally drifted off to sleep.
They woke up next to each other in that blue light just before the sunrise, smiling softly and memorizing each other's faces in perfect, peaceful silence.
Teddy walked between them, holding their hands, and they swung him into the air as he squealed and kicked his legs. They looked at each other and smiled.
One Christmas, she forced him to sing a sappy Celestina Warbeck song with her in front of the entire family. He was laughing so hard by the end that he didn't even notice the playful boos from Ron and George.
He was down on one knee, and she was above him, smiling with shining eyes as she answered yes. He swept her into his arms and kissed her deeply, realizing between kisses and whispered declarations of love that his eyes were shining.
He said those simple words bonding them for life, even though they'd been bonded long before that. Because he knew that he would go through everything again just to be with her; to lose her again would be to lose a part of himself without which he had no conceivable hope of happiness. Her smile as she said them back could have lit the entire world. His heart soared.
They fell, limbs entwined and lips locked together, onto the bed that night, and savored each other enough to last for the rest of their lives.
She was flying, flying towards him with that same blazing look; he barely registered the roar of the crowd and flashing cameras and trophy-wielding Harpies in the distance as he, brimming with pride, reached out to her over the stands. She grabbed the sides of his face and kissed him, and for a moment he swore his feet left the ground.
They were trying to bake a cake, and somehow the batter wound up on the ceiling and the frosting wound up on his face. They chased each other around the kitchen instead, throwing flour at each other, breathless with laughter.
She was sitting in front of him, beaming, and he sat there with his mouth open, gasping, hardly daring to believe the words that had just come out of her mouth. Pregnant. Father. Family. Before he knew it, he'd lifted her in his arms and was spinning around, delirious with joy, unable to do anything more than hold her close and mumble all the I love yous in the world.
He felt their child inside her for the very first time, and it was all he could do not to hold his hands against her belly for the rest of the pregnancy. Tears pricked in his eyes as he smiled up at her.
She gasped and groaned as their son entered the world, screaming and perfect and everything. As she held the baby to her chest, brushing back the little tuft of dark hair and whispering her hellos, he felt the tears begin to prick in his eyes, a tiny drop of the waves of emotion washing over him, a purer, stronger love than any he'd ever known before. He'd always known how strong she was, but as she cradled James, he saw a different kind of strength. Quiet and more powerful than anything. He kissed her as he cradled James's tiny, perfect body and let the tears come streaming.
He lay awake at night sometimes, no matter how tired he got, because he knew that Ginny sang to James, in those early morning hours when it seemed like the rest of the world had stopped to listen, too.
She was wearing that wonderful black underwear and he didn't even take off his work robes. Nine months later, Albus was born, and they fell in love all over again.
They sat under a blanket on those winter nights, wireless murmuring, boys asleep upstairs, fire crackling, rain pounding down outside. She curled against him, warmer and brighter than the fire could ever hope to be.
He was crying again, his grin so wide it nearly hurt his face, and she was sitting on the bed, cradling the brand new little bundle, kissing the swirl of red hair and murmuring a million I love yous, just as she had with the boys.
She twirled around the living room with Albus in her arms. He shrieked and giggled as she dipped him down and peppered his face with kisses.
She didn't come to bed one night, but he found her in Lily's room, asleep in the pink glow of the night light, her arm still around their daughter. Lily was awake, turning the pages of the book they'd been reading. He smiled softly and kissed them both.
He probably shouldn't have put a handful of snow down her back, but she had thrown the first snowball. And after all, it was worth it to hear her laughter intertwine with his as she tackled him to the ground in retaliation and tried to stuff snow under his jacket, her grinning face ruddy with cold.
He stepped through the door and was immediately ambushed by three shrieking children. He knelt down and gathered them up, squeezing them tightly until they giggled. Ginny arrived a moment later, and soon he had his entire family laughing and safe in his arms.
They held hands as they stood on the platform, waving at James as he glided away towards a brand new adventure. When the train disappeared, she squeezed his hand a little tighter.
She was in the kitchen with the wireless on, hips swaying ever so slightly. When she turned, he caught her around the waist and kissed her. The kids groaned in the background.
They were alone in the house for the first time in fifteen years, slow dancing in the kitchen, relishing the quiet and the feel of each other's arms as they counted down the days to Christmas.