Written for the Hinny Ficfest 2021.

Thank you Clare for organizing this! You're amazing.

Thedistantdusk, you're a sweetheart. Thank you again for everything. I love you.

Prompts:

#66: "That was the last time. I'm serious this time."

#85: "She deserves flowers and gifts and a secure guy who isn't almost murdered by lunatics left and right and I can't give her that."

She deserved flowers and gifts and a secure guy who wasn't almost murdered by lunatics left and right and he couldn't give her that.

Harry knew it was a matter of time, he wasn't that stupid or delusional.

He just hoped it'd never come and the emotions jostling in his heart hurt like hell, so much more he'd thought it would.

The bed bounced when she retrieved her jumper from the floor of his room and got dressed.

"That was the last time. I'm serious this time," Ginny murmured in the night, hooking her bra behind her back, her voice colder than ever before.

Harry contented himself to nod, unable to come up with a reply anyway. The ball in his throat suffocated him, and yet, to his despair, he wasn't dying.

She meant it this time, it was evident. He had to resign himself that it was over, the end of a story, of a story he had himself destroyed. Ginny had turned the page and it wasn't her fault if he was still stuck in the past.

It was over. Never again would the tips of his fingers graze her hot skin, his palms brush her thighs, his lips skim her face or his nails scratch at her back.

It would be someone else's task now, he reckoned.

She hadn't looked at him at all this time, keeping her eyes shut, her lips away from his, like it was now forbidden to cross that line. He'd noticed the difference right away, leaving him tight-lipped. His lips had searched hers but she'd turned her head, her long hair colliding with his face. His heart racing, his movements unsteady, he'd tried again, but she'd pulled back completely, increasing the speed of her hips connecting with his, her hands clutching his biceps.

Harry understood at this instant that something had changed in their intimate relationship, that she wasn't interested to share that part of her with him anymore. He contented himself to observe her while he was trying to pleasure her, her silhouette blurred from his lack of glasses. He cherished every pant and sigh coming from her lips, touching, with a heavy heart, these sections of her body only he knew of.

For now.

It had killed him to not feel her trembling on him from the intensity of their love-making. Ginny had jumped from him the second she finished like he'd burned her. Clenching his jaw, he realized another man would have that chance now, and that he should have relished in it more the last time they had been together. He hadn't expected it, as stupid as it sounded, and now he was let trying to grasp at every single souvenirs of it he could recover in his memory.

Thus far, she'd stayed close to him in bed after, her head on his chest, her sweet smelling hair tickling his chin, just like before he decided to fuck it up.

But he prefered to crush his dream life then to live with the possibility of endangering her.

She got off of the bed, the sheet moving from his bare chest at the same time. He couldn't look at her getting dressed or leaving his room for the last time, knowing full well he wouldn't be able to bear it, that it would be the last image of them sharing something intimate together.

It was his decision and he couldn't expect her to act like he hadn't broken up with her.

Again.

His eyes stung, and yet, he did nothing to stop it, too devastated to sooth the pain. He stared at the ceiling of his room, arms crossed over his heart, attempting to protect the last bit of dignity he could gather.

The door closed behind her, the click reasonating in his ears, and he was left alone to face his intolerable heartache like a big boy. But it hurt more than knowing you were the only one to save the world, more than wishing your mum would rock you at night after a nightmare, realizing your aunt would probably be willing to do that for anyone else but you. Because you were different, you were dangerous.

Because Ginny had been the only one he'd ever trusted enough to be completely vulnerable in her presence, with whom he'd accepted to share the most private parts of him. Their relationship had been a turning point in his life, raw, essential to his survival. Special enough that she could scream to the world the feel of her lips on his was the principal reason they were rid of Voldemort.

The first threatening sob escaped his lips, the sound breaking the silence of the room, and then another, and another, and he found himself unable to control his shaken body.

Rolling on his side, he brought up his knees to his chest, struggling to breathe, the flow of his tears flooding his pillow.

He deserved the pain. He deserved it. Because he was different, too dangerous, and Ginny couldn't be with him.

He grasped his comforter, bringing it to his nose in hope it was filled with her flowery scent and he could get the impression she was here, close to him. Just one last time. Just once.

Crying convulsively, shedding tear after tear, Harry didn't even hear when the door creaked again.

"Sorry I forgot my- Harry?!"

He tried, really tried, to stop the last sob from crossing his lips, in vain. Sealing his lips together, Harry hoped Ginny wouldn't judge him or take pity on him, or worse, fetch Ron.

He stayed still, hearing his heart pumping in his ears and feeling dizzy from the sadness and anger at himself consuming his insides.

The mattress sank under Ginny's weight and Harry felt her feet against his calves. One of her hands settled on his shoulder, the other one taking residence in his hair, tentatively brushing lock after lock. She pressed against his back, her clothes remembering him she didn't stay this time.

"It's okay. I've got you. I'm here," she whispered in his ear.

"You-you don't want to be here," he managed to reply, shame rousing inside him. Harry was mortified she found him in a ball on his bed after they just had sex. His chagrin was eating him alive, sending him spiralling in a dark void where he could only feel hatred and disgust for himself, but also heartache and something related to agony, he was sure of it.

The silence stretched a moment until Harry sniffed, his hand squeezing the comforter tighter against his chest. An owl hooted outside, reviving Harry's melancholy at not having Hedwig to talk to, with whom he could share without embarrassment his fright of dying without being loved.

"That's only because you don't want me to be here, Harry," murmured Ginny, her words shattering his heart. Regret burnt in his veins, knowing he'd afflicted Ginny with his deepest terror.

Being dumped, ditched by the person you trusted the most.

Harry turned on his back, needing her to understand she did nothing wrong, on the contrary, that he never wanted her to feel abandoned or betrayed. But the words died in his throat when he saw her eyes filled with her own tears.

"I just want to protect you from me," he pleaded with her to understand. She had to understand.

Ginny closed her eyes, inhaling sharply, the hand that was on his shoulder now playing with the hair on his chest, close to his heart. Harry remembered that time to cherish it, to incrust in his mind the solace her small fingers on his skin brought him, soothing the violent anguish torturing his mind. "You're hurting me more than anyone else could ever do," she spat at him.

He sniffed again, her words like a knife twisting his heart. He searched for something to say, for the best way to explain his train of thoughts, but he'd never been the best at formulating his idea.

"Well, I guess I have nothing else to do here," said Ginny, and he felt her hand lifting from his chest.

He panicked. "No, no. Stay. Please, Ginny."

She frowned. "Why? For me to hurt even more when you'll tell me you didn't change your mind? That you still don't want to be with me? Just in case? You can't, Harry. It can't continue. You can't fuck me, kiss me like we were still together, and then expect me to be all good with it when you gently remind me we're not. It's destroying me," Ginny said, her voice cracking. Her hand lifted to her mouth and she closed her eyes before turning her back to him, exactly like she did when he let her alone in her room after their last kiss years ago.

He let her down so many times.

But all he could think of was that: Was she really thinking he only used her body lately for his own physical needs? How could she have been aware that each time they had touched, it had been the only times he'd felt alive lately?

She wasn't trusting him anymore, just like most people she knew. He was now discarded in the "dangerous category", the same as Tom.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Swallowing, he pressed his palms to his teary eyes, begging himself to regain control of his emotions. Harry sat up, his hand shaking when he moved it to her back. "Don't- don't hide from me."

He started caressing her back, feeling more confident with her than he ever felt with any other crying girl. Merlin, he was so messed up, he didn't even know why Ginny ever wanted him.

Harry should have realised Ginny's trust was something difficult -maybe impossible- to regain, and that was why she didn't turn back, still trying to muffle up her sobs.

He had to try though, to show her it was real what they ever shared, that he meant it when he told her he loved her. He should have said it more, showed it more.

At this point, Harry didn't even know what he was doing, his mind confused, his needs, desires, dreams and fears all twirling and colliding in his head. There were still dangers at being with him, to be displayed by his side, to be linked to him, and his anxiety of losing her was strong enough to leave him breathless and choking in fear. Harry was unable to think straight when it happened, ready to do anything to keep her safe.

Yet, he made a mistake. Again. He knew it now.

"I'm sorry, Gin. I never wanted to hurt you," he said, laying his forehead on her shoulder.

The tears started flowing from his eyes again but he didn't hold them in, knowing it was no use. Not when it came to her being in pain, a pain he caused.

"I-I don't," he tried. "I don't know what-what to do. I don't want you to die too."

There was a beat, and then Ginny turned, laying her forehead on his, keeping her eyes close. "I understand, I'm terrorized by the idea of you dying too," she confided to him, her fingers dancing around his wrist. "Just- I'm my own person and it's my choice who I date. Just act with your heart for once. I'll deal with your decision, but-"

"Can I kiss you?" whispered Harry, knowing he'd made up his mind. A life without her was meaningless and he was nonfunctional without her love. His hand went up to her freckled cheek, the skin there so soft compared to his rough palm.

Taken aback, Ginny swallowed before humming in response. Without opening her eyes, she leaned her mouth to his, her breath warming his chin. The tip of her tongue moisted her lips in the most tantalizing way, causing Harry's head to spin, and then she crushed her lips to his.

He kissed her with fervor, with a passion he wasn't aware he was capable of. She pushed on his chest and he brought her body with his on the mattress. Straddling him, she kissed his neck and he felt himself being consumed with desire, with a powerful lust leaving him panting. Ginny chuckled in his neck and then lifted her head to look into his eyes, giving him such a sensual smile he groaned in longing.

Their love-making this time was like he was remembering it: full of intensity and filled with love, little attentions and pure ecstasy.

"Give me some time," she whispered when they were regaining their breath, her head resting on his chest. "I-I need time." Harry's breath hitch and Ginny surely heard it because she lifted her head and moved on him to rest her chin on her hands, which were close to his heart. She kissed his chin tenderly.

"I love you, I just-"

"I understand," said Harry, cutting her. Because he did, really did. "I'll wait. I love you. Forever," he told her earnestly, caressing her hair and promising himself he'd do all he ever needed to do to get her trust back.