Ch. 8 is finally here, and Ch. 9 is on it's way. Ch. 9 is where the plot picks up again, because this chapter is more of a filler in Harry's POV. Fun.
Chapter 8 Heaven and Hell…
"Harry!"
He turned to see his girlfriend calling his name. "Hey."
The redhead placed a kiss on his cheek and smiled, "Ready?"
They were going to a muggle ballet, and that was all she talked about for the past week. "Yep," and he offered her his arm. She was wearing a black, strapless dress that had a long slit going up the side that revealed her long, smooth legs. Her hair was up in an elegant twist, and one loose lock was out, framing her face. She looked radiant. "You look amazing," he told her.
She blushed, "Thanks. You look great too."
He loved the way she blushed when he paid her a compliment. Sometimes he'd talk dirty to her just to make her face red. But that didn't stop her from making him blush. She'd do the same thing, and soon, both were flushed and smiling wickedly.
They arrived at the theater, and were soon surrounded by a ton of well-dressed socialites. Several of Harry's superiors were there, for some odd reason or another, and he introduced them to Ginny.
One thing about her that never ceased to amaze him was her social skills. She could strike up a conversation with anyone, at any time and carry it on. She had a polite demeanor that people were attracted too, and this was no exception.
After socializing, they were seated in the balcony with an older couple. Ginny squeezed his hand as the husband kissed his wife's hand and she smiled at him. "One day, that will be us," she whispered.
Harry smiled, "No. I'd kiss you, not your hand."
She laughed softly, and the lights dimmed. Harry was more interested in her than the ballet, and he seriously couldn't think of the name of the play, but he had memorized her face by the end. The way her chin tilted up slightly, how her nose wrinkled when she was amused, the way her eyes widened at the sight of all the ballerinas doing twirls. "I could never do that," she whispered to him.
He had just smiled, and the act ended. "Come with me," he had whispered, taking her hand, "Let's find food or something."
"Harry!" she whispered scandalously as he pulled her up and they descended the huge flight of stairs. "It's going to start again!"
"So?"
She opened her mouth to protest, but he turned and silenced her with a kiss. "Trust me, okay?"
She nodded, and they went outside. It was a fairly warm September evening, and the stars were twinkling as the walked down the street. He pulled her into a clothes shop and pulled a pair of black pant and a red tank top off the hanger. "Try it on and we'll buy it," and before she could protest, he pushed her into the dressing room.
He bought himself a pair of slacks and a button down black shirt before Ginny came out. He paid for the outfit, despite her protests, and after he poofed their formal wear home, the exited the store. "Why did we have to change?" she asked as they strolled down the street, hand in hand.
"I just wanted to get you alone," he said playfully.
She cocked her head, "And why would you want that?"
He stopped her. "I wanted to take a vacation. Get away from the city, with you."
She smiled, "Really?"
"Yes."
He took her hand and they Apparated to the coast. "Wow," Ginny breathed as they watched the waves crash against the beach below them. "It's beautiful."
Harry took her hand, "Let's go," and he began to take her down the hill.
She lost her footing and went tumbling into him. "Harry!" she screeched as they tumbled down towards the water. He managed to grab hold of her, and they rolled down, stopping mere inches from the water.
Ginny ended up on top of him, and both his arms were around her waist. She laughed before kissing him.
Harry reluctantly opened his eyes. Why did all the dreams only end there? It really wasn't fair, considering there was still more of that night he remembered. Hey, he's a guy.
He got up and scratched his head. He figured he'd just go downstairs, eat then shower and change. It's not like Ginny would be up yet, he didn't even remember if she had come in last night.
A thought hit him as he went downstairs. He had never noticed the scars on Ginny's leg, and he would have noticed something like that. He wasn't that oblivious.
He noticed that the teakettle was warm. He poured himself a cup of water and poured the instant coffee in and sighed. He hated that stuff, tasted more like dirt than coffee, but he downed it, placing it in the sink and going back to the hall.
What made him do it, he wasn't quite sure, but something made him go into the drawing room. Ginny was curled up on the couch, her hair partially in her face. He watched, mesmerized, as her steady breathing made the lock of hair go up and down. Rhythmically.
He missed that. When he was with her, everything was like your first ice cream cone. Sweet, fresh, too good to be true, but at the same time, familiar and natural. That's how she was. And he missed that, the familiarity of waking up next to someone you knew and trusted. Someone you could see yourself with for the rest of your life. Someone you couldn't imagine your life without.
He couldn't see himself with Cho. It was just not meant to be. She was just a bad replacement for the void Ginny created when she left. He cared for Cho, but he loved Ginny, he didn't know how he made it so far without her.
Watching her sleep was heaven and hell at the same time. Heaven because she was so beautiful and angelic. So commonplace. And hell because he knew unless he did something quick, he'd never see her again.
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