The war was over. Ginny reminded herself of this constantly. But adrenaline was still burning in her, and her heart pounded relentlessly in her chest. She looked at her worn out, tired, and very mixed emotional family. Charlie, Bill (And Fleur beside him, fawning over him, of course.) , Percy, and George. Ron had run off with Hermione and Harry to go talk about something she wasn't in on, as usual. Her heart gave a jump when she thought of Harry, but she couldn't miss one thing. One brother was missing. A twin. Fred was gone. A tear fell from her eye. Her first tear since this awful war that took her brother had began. She had been strong, not a tear shed all year. But now it hit her hard. She tried to think of something to get it off her mind. Something. Anything. Harry. Perfect. Think of Harry. The boy she loved. The boy, only a few hours ago, everyone thought was dead. The boy who broke her heart for her safety. The boy who hasn't said a word to her since the battle ended. She decided to go and find him. She lifted her head off of her mother's shoulder and walks to where she saw them exit, they were beginning to walk back, Hermione and Ron holding hands, and Hermione's arm flung around Harry's neck. Hermione saw Ginny, and removed her arm from his neck, and drug Ron the other way. Ginny and Harry were now alone. "Hi," she said quietly.
"Hi." He answered, his tone of voice and volume matching hers quite closely. Harry was sure that it wouldn't be long before he was flooded with a million thoughts of all that had passed that day and the year leading up to it, but for now he was just tired. Tired and glad to be with the people he cared about the most, something that up to a moment ago was only a partial truth.
She gulped. "I bloody hate you, you know. Running off and being almost dead," she said, mock seriously, before enveloping him in a tight hug. She breathed in his scent, now clouded with sweat, blood, and dirt, but it was still him. She never realized how much she truly missed him until she let herself really think about him, something she had rarely done this past year, for what she figured was her own good. Now she felt waves of relief crash over her as she held him in her arms, trying to numb the pain.
His arms moved easily around her despite the dull ache in them, along with the ache everywhere else too, as if they were quite practiced at holding her, like he had studied it for years and never planned to do anything else. He didn't know how to answer her and he couldn't wrap his mind around the idea of joking along with her immediately, although he was pretty sure from this hug that she wasn't actually all that angry with him, feeling too worn out from everything and quite tired of running. "I'm sorry." He answered, the simple phrase covering so much. He was sorry for her losses, for leaving her a year ago, for being prepared to leave her only just that night. He was sorry for her every pain, whether he had caused it or not, and he was certain in that moment that he was going to spend a very long time doing his very best to keep the girl in his arms from ever having to feel any pain again.
A few more tears fell from her eyes and down her cheeks as she looked up at him. She mentally cursed herself, she needed to be strong. "I think I can forgive you," she whispered, her voice shaky as she tried to control it. Ever her hands shook, ever so slightly as they balled up in fist to stop moving behind his neck. It had been almost a full year since she had heard his voice, and though it was worn, it was this the deep, low, warm voice that had comforted her before.
"I was rather hoping you could." He told her, his voice still incredibly quiet. He knew that this, although one of the first, was also going to be one of the last peaceful moments he would get to enjoy for a while, and he was glad it was with her. He opened his mouth as if to speak again, but then stopped. He wanted to tell her he had missed her, he wanted to explain how he had checked his map every night to see her name and foot prints walking around the castle, that he listened for her name every day on the radio praying he'd not hear it, but somehow all those words seemed wrong, and none of them seemed to matter anymore.
"Harry?" she asked looking up at him, her tears beginning to leave tracks. His deep green eyes bore into her rich brown ones. Just looking at him again sent shivers up her spine. Yeah, she was mad at him for leaving her. Yeah, she was upset that she couldn't help him. But there was nothing that she could do now. The war was over, and what happened was done. Voldemort was dead and things could be different now, she reminded herself.
"Yeah?" he mumbled in response. He was rather distracted as he followed the trail of her tears down her cheek, wishing he had the nerve and the strength to wipe them for her. He couldn't remember ever seeing Ginny cry before, maybe he had, but nothing that could push all the memories of the happy and strong girl from his mind, and suddenly the weight of everything that had happened dawned on him.
She let her tears hang onto her face, not ready to wipe them away. Not ready to wipe any of this away. "Harry," she said, moving her hands to cup his cheeks. "I love you."
The moment after she spoke felt like an eternity to Harry, although it couldn't have actually been more than a second that he pondered how to react to that. He wondered how, in that infinite second, she didn't walk away in the time that it took for him to step forwards her, his arms reaching around her, trying to create every closeness before his lips pressed firmly to hers.
It didn't take long for his breath to run out, winded and exhausted from the long day they all had had, so he pulled slightly away. "I love you, too," he sighed against her lips.
A/N: This has been on my computer for the LONGEST time and I was rereading it and decided to upload it, against my better judgement. It's absolute FLUFF, but a little fluff never hurt no one. Tell me what you think!
- MaddieMonkey