Timeline: Post-DH, non-compliant epilogue, no definite year; marker is that HG is elected as Minister for Magic
A/N: I was stuck in the hospital for a while, so I've written another one-shot using my phone. Cover image from overdoor.
Disclaimer: I am merely playing in JK Rowling's sandbox.
She knew it.
She knew that he didn't truly belong to her.
She knew that he belonged to someone else, though unofficially, yet they still stuck together for years — years spent trying to resuscitate the brief yet powerful spark that triggered their romance.
Considering all that happened, of course it didn't. She knew he won't love her again — did he even? — yet she still waited. She waited for him to return into her arms.
And return he did, though she wasn't sure if he even bothered to bring his heart with him.
— — — — —
Her heart drowned in guilt whenever he woke up in sweat and tears. His dreams were brimming with unspoken terrors; and sometimes it doesn't wake her, sometimes it does. When it does, he looks at her as if he's ashamed to let her see him like this — looking vulnerable and scared. It broke her heart to hear the silent response whenever she asked (or demanded) to know about his agony. She doesn't let herself prod further in fear of him relieving his nightmares, in fear of her getting nightmares as well.
It was the day when she got elected as Minister that his nightmares subsided. They were at the atrium when she saw her with hair coiffed in an elegant manner pinned with an old brooch. If she squinted enough, she was sure that she would recognise the crest. It was an heirloom, she surmised, adorned with tiny rubies and citrines. It was the color of their House for seven years. It had the crest of the Ancient and Noble House of Potter.
Ginny wasn't sure if Harry even saw Hermione, but he seemed to know she was just there. He glided to her while she almost tripped in trying to keep up with him.
"Ginny! Harry!" Hermione called them out even though she knew that they were coming. She met them halfway, throwing herself at Harry. He whispered something in her ear, and Ginny averted her eyes, feeling like an intruder. She tried to zone them out, but she couldn't block her response. "We did it!"
Ah, so that's why he was pouring himself into his work. His sudden resignation as DMLE head shocked the Wizarding World. She was nonplussed because she knew he loved his job; he didn't even mention anything to her, but she knew it was because of Hermione.
Did they fight? Some kind of misunderstanding? She was one of the department heads, after all. She would know. She wanted to ask her what happened, but he suddenly claimed his seat in the Wizengamot and the world was elated once again.
She forgot about it because she was happy. He was slowly reforming the Wizarding World with his — their — perspective. He became an egalitarian with a strong sense of justice in a short period. She wasn't sure how, but she knew it was because of Hermione.
Though she had to admit that it didn't brought all to the path of equality, he held the boon and served as the champion of Muggleborns, something Dumbledore failed to be. As he presented recent findings in front of the Wizengamot regarding the origin of Muggleborns, she knew that it was her research; and she somehow knew that he was doing it all for her. That led them to this election, she guessed.
She was so hurt that she suddenly invited her brother for a bender to one of those Muggle pubs — one of her recommendations, no doubt. She kept drinking and drinking and drinking, thinking that every drop will make her think that she was wrong about her epiphanies. Her brother refused to drink every pint and shot that she ordered for him, and settled to just watch her drown her sorrows.
"Someone has got to Apparate us back, right?"
"Oh piss off, we'll take the Knight Bus."
Her brother was quiet during the whole fiasco. This is a miracle, she thought as she slumped in her seat. They stared at each other, and she was certain he could see her internal grief because all she saw was pity on her brother's freckled face.
"You're mental, Gin. Stop it. Let it go. Let him go."
She answered with silence as she stabbed a chip into a bowl of ketchup and raised a hand to order another pint. She wanted to hate her so much.
A hug pulled her out of musings as she struggled to breathe. Ah, there it was, her patented hug. One of the reasons she couldn't hate her.
"Ginny, thank you so much for coming here early. I don't know what I'd do without you guys. I'm bloody nervous!"
She smiled at that because it was true. Their generation cobbled to form a huge family by putting all their differences aside, and tried to aid each other with love, comfort, and support in honor of those who lost their lives. "Language, dear," she said with playful mimicry. "You know we're always here for you, Hermione. We're so proud." So, so, so proud. First Muggleborn Minister. Oh how their world has come so far.
Hermione struggled to keep the tears at bay. "I wouldn't be here without everyone. This is a continuation of our previous fight, and I'll do my best to finish it."
"I'll go with you," she heard him say to her. She watched as they stared at each other.
"Oh, Harry," Hermione said softly.
It was daunting how she always felt like an intruder when he was officially hers.
"I'll go and fetch the others in their offices, alright?" Ginny grasped both of their faces and left as soon as her lips met their cheeks. "Don't entertain the press too much!"
So much for Gryffindor courage, she bitterly thought to herself as she hurriedly proceeded to the lifts.
— — — — —
Ginny was leaving in two days when she realized it.
It was a Tuesday morning and she was spending it at Le Pur to dine with one of the budding writers from The Quidditch Magazine.
Tuney the reporter was good, she observed, and asked the right questions.
How is the Hollyhead Harpies? In their best form. How is she handling her first year as Captaincy? I'm doing my best. I hope it reflects. When is your team going to leave for the European Tour? In two days, first stop is Ireland. Any teams that they're looking forward to have a game with? Ireland, of course. Bulgaria as well. Luxembourg is a new team, it'll be interesting to play against them. Does she think that they have a chance to reach the Championships? Of course, I have complete trust in my team. Does she have a connection with the Captains of other teams? Yes, we try to keep a balanced relationship. It helps keep the animosity inside the game only.
"Speaking of relationships, are you still in a relationship with The Lord Harry Potter?"
She wondered too, she mused in her head, if they were still in a relationship. They were, but it didn't feel like it. Yes, he was still staying in her flat. Yes, they still kiss... sometimes. Yes, they still slept on the same bed, but never did anything intimate in the past year. No, she was certain that he isn't cheating. How? Because he's Harry. The only person he could cheat with was her — and she wouldn't dare to. Because she's Hermione. Because they're Harry and Hermione, who both lost so much that they wouldn't dare to lose another person. They'd rather lose themselves, than risk losing their, or her, trust. They were both frustrating that way.
Yet she was thankful for their pure hearts. It's time to repay them.
"I'd rather not say. We are here for Quidditch after all, right?" She grinned at the reporter.
The reporter had the decency to blush. "Right," she paused before asking another question. "What country are you looking forward to visit?"
"Oh, this might cliché, but I'm looking forward to return to France! My friend, Hermione, of course everyone knows her," she shared a grin with the reporter. "She has French roots and knew I love my red wine, so she introduced me to Coq Au Vin. I've been dreaming for it ever since!"
"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but I thought the Minister mentioned in one of her interviews that she didn't know how to cook?"
"She's quite horrible at it honestly." She let out a laugh. "It's the only thing she's absolute pants at. She practiced it for a month just to present it on my birthday."
"That's... quite lovely of the Minister to do so," Tuney quietly commented.
"It is," she said softly. "I haven't gotten the chance to thank her, but yeah, she's amazing like that."
"Your generation, the Golden Generation, is quite amazing," the reporter kindly pointed out.
"It's because we have each other."
— — — — —
Twelve hours before leaving and she was almost done packing.
"Need a hand there, Gin?"
She looked up from her shoe collection to meet his green eyes. "Hey Harry, didn't hear you come in."
"You've been zoning out for quite some time now, Gin." He searched her eyes. "Are you okay?"
She couldn't help but let out a small sigh. "Yeah, I've been thinking."
His expression turned into mischief and was about to say something when she raised a hand. "You silly goof, just help me choose." She held up two boots. "The green one or brown one?"
"Um... the brown one?" He scrunched up his brows in confusion.
"I'm done," she said while grinning at him. She stood up and brushed imaginary lint from her sweater. "Now, let me help you."
"With what?"
"Packing."
He crossed the room with uncertainty and placed his hands on her shoulders. "Gin?"
"Go back to Grimmauld Place, Harry." You belong there, she thought to herself.
"I- What? I thought I'm going to watch your flat for you?" His eyes were clouded with confusion again. "And besides, it's Mione's now. I named it after her, remember?"
Of course. Ginny didn't like that place, but she did. Aside from the obvious reason, which was the extensive library of the manor, Hermione claims that the history of the house got to her. Though everyone reckons that she lives in it to honor Sirius.
She couldn't stop herself anymore. "Let's break up, Harry."
She watched his eyes fill with hurt and confusion. "Did...did I do something wrong?"
With trembling hands, she grasped his face and pulled it close to hers. "You've been nothing but ruddy amazing, Harry," she said and paused to settle her thoughts. "But you're not the man for me, and I'm not the woman for you. Let's stop pretending, please. We're only hurting ourselves."
"Ginny... I honestly don't know what to say." He hugged her tight. They both knew it was time to end it. And no one was complaining, just acceptance of what should've been done a long time ago.
Maturity was a fickle thing.
"Then don't say anything." She scoffed at him. "You just have to promise me two things."
"You got it."
"You nit, I haven't even enumerated it," she chided, rolling her eyes at him even though he couldn't see it. She pulled a bit to look at his face. "First, live your life. You of all people deserve it. Don't deny it, Potter! Rebuild the Wizarding World with Hermione, okay?"
He was about to open his mouth, but she continued on without letting him speak. "Second, get your cute arse with Hermione. When I come back here, I want our world changed and you two married with at least three children."
He blushed at that. "You'll only be gone for two years, not ten," he muttered.
"Hush, no complaining," she said with a smirk. "Maybe one child and I get to be godmother. Deal?"
"Ginny... I'm-"
"Harry, don't apologise. All of us are at wrong here. We had trouble letting go of the past, we tried hard to maintain the status quo," she said as she smiled softly at him.
"Yet we tried so hard to change the world itself," he interjected.
"Ironic, isn't it?" They shared a quiet moment at that. She released a sigh then continued, "we have to let go now, Harry. I'm always going to be here, but I'm not the one you want and need. That's the same with me."
"I just wanted all of us to be happy," he said sorrowfully.
"And we will be," she assured him quickly. "You've lost a lot of time. Promise me you'll make it up to her?"
"I promise."
"Now, come on," she said while grabbing his arm to lead him out of the room. "You pack tomorrow, spend time with her while I clean up." She reached up the mantle to grab a handful of Floo power and tossed it in the fireplace. Green flames lighted the room.
"Ginny... You take care, okay?" He hesitated a bit before grabbing her for a tight hug. "Thank you," he whispered in her ear.
She almost cried in his arms — in grief or relief, she uncertain. Probably a bit of both. She knew he wouldn't leave her alone packing though so she gave him a final push.
She shouted the location and password with gusto, "Grimmauld Place! Hipogriff!" She gently pushed him into the green fire, and into her arms — into Hermione's arms where he should be.
Time to let go now.
They'll be alright.
We'll be alright.