I'll Be There When You Want Me
Disclaimer: Anything you recognize is NOT MINE…
The approaching holidays were always a hodgepodge of conflicting emotions, unrealistic expectations and overwrought exhaustion. This year, however, it was proving to be a very disappointing time of the year. For starters, the ground remained devoid of snow much to the displeasure of the boys, despite the chilly weather. Secondly, and most importantly really, Harry was not going to be spending the holidays with them. He had to take a short trip back to Florence to settle certain matters involving his property and his contract with the Medici Messers so as to facilitate his retirement as a quidditch player.
Now, Ginny had always been the 'out of sight, out of mind' sort of person but ever since Harry left, a few days before Christmas, she found herself thinking more and more about him. Harry, her first infatuation at the tender age of eleven, the thought of whom now could make her abdomen contract.
She had not thought about him in this way for decades but here she was, at the age of thirty one, with children of her own, with rounded hips and stretch marks from all those pregnancies, thinking of him in a syrupy way that seemed almost akin to longing.
She thought about how his hair stuck up at odd angles, even more so when he ran his hand through it repeatedly in an attempt to neaten it. She thought about his favorite breakfast of cereal and milk. She thought about how he had bought them fresh cherries one day during autumn and taught them how to eat it with fresh whipped cream – it had been delicious. She thought about his foot massages, the way his green eyes darkened with excitement when he talked about Florence. She thought about his voice, his laughter, and his smile.
She could not stop thinking about Harry; no matter how hard she tried. He was gone, even if it was just for a while, but here she was, thinking about him. Just last night, she dreamt of growing an apple tree in her garden and any man who took a bite from a pie Ginny fixed with those apples were bound to be hers, for life.
What had happened to her? What had snapped? Where was that logical, independent woman, the one people could depend on day after day? How had she allowed her entire life, her family to be influenced and affected by one single person?
There were her sons gathered around the Christmas tree, opening their presents, having spent the previous night writing letters to Harry, one from the each of them.
"Why don't you open your presents as well?" Hermione asked, jolting Ginny out of her reverie. Hermione, Ron, Luna and Neville had decided to join Ginny and the boys for Christmas brunch.
Ginny nodded, getting off from the couch to join her sons on the floor. "Have you opened yours?" She asked Hermione.
Hermione nodded, sitting on the armchair, looking extremely comfortable beside Ron, bits and pieces of ripped wrapping paper all around her. Across from them, Luna and Neville sat on the couch, sipping eggnog and smiling at the boys' cries of delight or disappointment as they opened each present.
"Mum, this one's from grandma and grandpa," Warren pulled out an untidily wrapped parcel.
"One guess what that is and you get my sweater!" Ron crowed, pointing to the maroon sweater he was wearing that his mother knitted for every member of the family as a traditional Christmas present.
Ginny laughed, unwrapping the parcel and slipping on her own sweater.
"Where's yours?" She asked Leo who was completely enraptured with his stuff toy dragon that was charmed to fly short distances, courtesy of Uncle Charlie.
He promptly pointed to Warren who had stolen it to wear instead of his own embarrassingly unfashionable bright orange one.
Ginny shook her head at her sons, not finding it in herself to scold them on Christmas morning. Besides, she had tons of presents to open.
It was some time later when everyone had opened all their gifts, wrapping paper lying all over the place, that Raphael did his customary check for any other presents under the tree. His fingers grasped a neatly wrapped small rectangular gift. He read the note on it.
"Mum," he said, turning to his mother who was sitting on the floor beside him helping Greg set up his mini quidditch model set that Harry had gotten him. Even Ron had joined them on the floor, prodding the makeshift figures with his wand, excitedly.
"Mum, this is for you. It's from Uncle Harry." He said, handing it to her. Ginny took the package in her hands that were trembling slightlywith expectation. She could not speak for some reason. She felt as if she held the weight of her entire heart in her hands.
"I was wondering why Uncle Harry didn't get you anything." Warren said. He was sitting on the couch with Luna and Neville, as they showed him how to use the invisible ink Uncle Fred and Uncle George had given him.
Ginny barely heard her son, ripping the wrapping paper apart to reveal a smooth velvet box. She unhooked the clasp and opened the lid. A quiet gasp of awe was emitted from her lips.
"I can't believe he remembered." She murmured, throatily, her voice thick with emotion as she stared at the contents of the box.
"What? What is it?" Hermione asked, leaning out of her chair to take a look. Luna and Neville had moved towards her to see as well. Her sons crowded around her to have a glimpse. Ginny showed it to them.
"Wow, impressive." Neville commented. Hermione nodded, agreeably. It was a beautiful pair of diamond studd earrings resting against the pure white silk lining of the box.
"Very bright." Leo squinted as the diamonds caught the sunlight coming in through the window, reflecting it straight into his eyes.
"But I can't believe he remembered." Ginny was still muttering, as if in shock.
"What do you mean?" Luna asked, inquiringly.
"It's just that about a month ago, we went down to Diagon Alley together, Harry, me and the boys, and I saw these exact same diamond earrings on display at the jewellery store there and I told Harry about how I had always wanted a pair of diamond earrings because Terry's mother used to wear them and she used to look so elegant and refined…" Ginny trailed off, fingering the earrings tenderly.
"And I just can't believe he remembered that." She muttered.
Ron shook his head, knowingly, "Harry's that sort of a person. Remember the time, back in Hogwarts, when he was so in love with Susan Bones and bought her the entire collection of her favorite author J.M. Barrie's works for her birthday."
It was a deathly silence that met Ron's words, as it's possible connotation registered in everyone's minds. It took a full minute for Ron to realize what everyone else was so silent and seemingly astonished about. He drew in his breath sharply, realizing what he had let slip, covering his mouth with his hand as his face went beet red in alarm.
"What did you say?" Ginny asked, quietly, having managed to find her voice at last.
"I didn't..I didn't say anything.." Ron blabbered, exchanging horrified looks with Hermione. Ginny was not supposed to know – Harry would kill him for this.
"Harry's in love with me?" She asked, softly, almost disbelieving, her eyes fixed on Hermione for confirmation and the truth.
The older witch hesitated before nodding.
"B-But how? When? How?" Ginny asked, feeling her heart beat all too fast in her chest. The air from her lungs felt as if they were evaporating out into her chest. Then a little voice in her said, Let go, Let go, let go. She was sure she was going to faint.
Her sons sat around her, staring at her worriedly, concerned with their mother's apparent state of distress.
"I don't think anyone can answer those questions save Harry," Neville pointed out sensibly.
Ginny nodded. Needing a temporary reprieve, "I need a moment alone." She said, rising to her feet, her knees shaking like jelly, before making her way up the stairs to her room.
Ginny sat on her bed for a while, thinking about how she had been missing Harry the past few days almost as if she had lost an arm and she had never felt like this about anyone ever since Terry. She remembered the look on Harry's face when he told her that he would not be able to spend the holidays with them – the worry and disappointment in his eyes.
She closed her eyes, and clenched her fists in her lap. Her chest felt hollow, bugs flying around in an excavated cavity. There was an echo in there, and it drummed up in her ears. Let go. Let go. Let go.
She looked up when she heard the soft click of the room door opening. It was Hermione, who had come up to check on her in order to assuage everyone else's fears about Ginny's welfare.
"What do I do, Hermione?" Ginny asked her, wringing her hands in trepidation, "You're the smart one, you tell me." She implored.
Hermione sat beside her on the bed. "What do you want to do?" she asked her, gently.
"I don't know. I don't know how to deal with this. I lost the one man I allowed myself to love and I promised myself never to do it again…."She trailed off, choking up as tears filled her eyes.
Hermione instinctively put her arms around her, rocking her then, "Oh, Ginny, you've been played out too, I know, I know. Oh, Ginny, Ginny."
Ginny felt her tears come like the letdown of milk when she had nursed the babies, unstoppable, purging.
"Okay now, okay. Listen. I just want you to do one thing. One thing. Will you?" Hermione asked, making sure Ginny's eyes were focused on her.
Ginny nodded.
"Don't bolt the door behind, that's all. Close it partway if you have to but don't lock it. Give Harry a chance. You and Harry have become the best of friends the past few months and that's hard to come by."
Ginny nodded, sniffing.
"Sometimes, Ginny, the hardest part of love isn't loving someone, but having the courage to let them love you back." Hermione commented, sagaciously.
On New Year's Eve, it was snowing. The snow was falling lightly, like a flurry of small hands. Ginny was sitting in the living room, curled up on the window seat, staring out at the night sky.
On the table in the living room, Leo's crayons were scattered across the butcher paper Ginny had laid down. Leo and Warren had drawn till their heads began to nod like heavy flowers and Ginny had plucked them up in her arms, first one and then the other, and brought them up to their bedroom. Leo had curled up in a fetal position and a moment later placed his thumb in his mouth to suck. It was a habit Ginny had told the rest of her sons to help him break but now, she envied such easy peace.
Later on, after tucking Raphael and Greg in bed, she had stood there for a while, watching her sons lying in their beds, making quiet sounds of sleep. They had been surprisingly impassive to the revelation that their Uncle Harry was in love with their mother, more apprehensive about Ginny's welfare than anything else. It was almost as if they already knew.
Only Raphael, two nights ago, before going to sleep had come up to the study room where she had been reading. He had told her in serious tones with a solemn expression on his facethat it was all right if she and Uncle Harry got together - none of his brothers really minded. Besides, they all really liked Uncle Harry. Ginny had smiled at her son wistfully, pulling him into her arms – her firstborn, the son she had always wanted.
"No one loves you like I do." Raphael had told her.
"No. No one ever will." Ginny had agreed.
Now, as she sat there with less than an hour left to the New Year, she remembered sitting in this living room, years ago – when she was pregnant with Leo – with Terry, Raphael, Greg and Warren, on the first New Year's Eve that all five of them had stayed up. She had shaped the day around making sure the children got enough sleep. Warren especially had been very excited – when he woke up after dark he was sure that someone better than Santa would come that night.
Hours later as he yawned and leaned into Ginny's lap and she finger combed his hair, Terry ducked into the kitchen to get cocoa and Raphael served German chocolate cake.
When the clock struck twelve, there was only distant screaming and a few guns shot into the air from the houses nearby, Warren was disbelieving. Disappointment so swiftly and thoroughly overtook him that Ginny was at a loss for what to do.
She remembered Terry had lifted Warren up into his arms and started singing. The rest of them joined in. "Let ole acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind, should ole acquaintance be for forget and days of auld lang syne!"
Warren had stared at them. "Lang syne?" He said with a look of wonder.
"What does that mean?" Greg asked them.
"The old days," Terry said, "Days long past."
Terry had smiled at her then, his eyes shining with nostalgia, calling her 'chocolate eyes' before leaning down to kiss her in front of the children. He had always liked showing his affection for her in front of the children. He had all sorts of nicknames for her as well. 'My lovely girl', he had called her moments before he took his last breath.
Ginny closed her eyes briefly, taking a deep breath, pulling her knees to her chest. She thought then, of the times when she was a young girl and spent a considerable time at the Lovegoods' place, playing with Luna.
They used to love to lie down under the framed grave rubbing outside Luna's parents' room. It had been from a tomb in a London graveyard. Ginny would pretend to be the knight that was pictured and Luna would be the wife he had left behind. They always dissolved into giggles no matter how solemn the start.
Luna would tell the dead knight that a wife had to move on, that she could not be trapped for the rest of her life by a man frozen in time. Ginny would act stormy and mad, but it never lasted. Eventually, Luna would describe her new lover: the fat butcher who gave her prime cuts of meat, the agile blacksmith who made her hooks. "You are dead, knight," she would say. "Time to move on."
The peaceful silence of the house, save for the loud ticking of the grandfather's clock, was shattered by a loud crack, the distinct sound of apparating. Ginny rose from her seat abruptly, pulling her wand out immediately. She wondered who it could be since the apparition wards around the house only allowed in her family and….
"Harry," She breathed, in shock, as he stepped into the living room.
There were snowflakes stuck in his black hair and in his cloak, his hair was messier than normal, his face was flushed and his lips were redder than usual from the cold. For some reason, the disconcerted state Harry was in made him even more attractive to Ginny. His eyes were the darkest green, and as Ginny looked at him, she could feel herself falling inside of them.
"I thought you'd only be back next week." She said, her voice sounding unnaturally high.
Harry shook his head, holding hisdragonskin gloved hand out, as if to stop her questions, but more to gather his wits. Ever since Harry had left England, he had found himself in a perpetual state of agitation.
The waking up in the mornings were the worse. The thought of a day without Ginny, without Raphael's sensible statements, without Warren's mischief, without Leo's hugs, without playing quidditch with Greg almost drove him back to bed, under the covers. That was why unable to bear it any longer, he had apparated back here all the way from Florence.
"Please, just listen to me, Ginny." His words fell out of him like burdens he was delivering, back logged verbs and nouns, but he was watching her bare feet on the dun colored rug and the way the small pool of numbed light from the fireplace touched her right cheek.
"I love you." Harry said, looking at Ginny, his gaze locked with hers, with such intensity it took her breath away. "I love how you get cold even when it's seventy degrees outside. I love the way you look when you lean down to kiss Leo. I love that after I spend the day with you, I can still smell your perfume on my clothes. And I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Year's Eve - I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."
A strange smile came across Ginny's face, "I know." She murmured, her voice gravelly with emotion.
Harry stared at her, stunned. Of all the responses he had expected - Ginny screaming at him and running away in fright a possibility he had considered - this was not one of them.
"You know?" Harry asked, bowled over, his momentum stilled. "B-but how?" He asked, a catch in his voice.
"Ron and his big mouth." Ginny smiled.
Harry looked at her smile, wanted to reach out and track the corners of it with his fingertips. He did not know what to say or do anymore. He had said all he had wanted to say. He stood there, his nerves wrought, completely incapable of any rational thought whatsoever.
Ginny took a step towards him, without hesitation, closing the distance between them. She took his face in her hands and searched his features for what Harry did not know but he certainly knew what the kiss that followed meant, a kiss that both moved and aroused him. It was the first taste of true passion he had ever had with Ginny, and, as such, it produced a joy made all the sweeter by the wait.
It was to Ginny and Harry's great consternation that the next morning as they sat at the dining table in the breakfast room - Ginny in her sweatshirt and pants, Harry in his boxers and Federation of International Quidditch (FIQ) T-shirt –, the boys came tumbling into the room, hungry for breakfast, bleary with sleep and completely impervious to the sight that met their eyes.
"Happy New Year, Mum. Happy New Year, Uncle Harry." They mumbled, taking their seats.
Ginny and Harry exchanged pointed looks. It was pretty obvious that the boys had been unseen spectators to the turn of events last night. Thank goodness Ginny and Harry had done nothing more than share a toast and a few kisses to mark the New Year, preferring to talk about their future plans together and simply enjoy each other's company till dawn arrived.
Harry decided a frontal attack was best. "So were you boys already awake or did the noise I make apparating into the house wake you?" He asked, his lips twitching from the effort not to smile.
Greg choked on his orange juice and received a good thumping on the back from his elder brother.
"What are you talking about, Uncle Harry?" Warren asked, managing to look completely guiltless. Harry had to give the boy due credit.
"About this." Harry replied, before tipping his chair slightly forward, so that he was leaning closer to Ginny, and promptly kissed her on the lips. Ignoring Ginny'svexed yet somewhat pleased expression, Harry smirked at the boys.
"Fine, fine," Raphael admitted, seeing no need to lie to Uncle Harry any longer now that the truth was so obvious. "We saw, we heard, we know."
Harry nodded. "Are you boys okay with it? Me with your mother? A part of your lives permanently?" He asked, seriously and sincerely.
They were exchanging looks amongst themselves, obviously having expected this and discussed it amongst themselves before.
It was Raphael who spoke up, "Will you hurt Mum?"
Ginny watched her eldest son and saw the eyes of a child who had grown up fast since the day his father told him he was dying.
"I'm going to do everything I can not to." Harry said, with great conviction.
Raphael nodded in agreement.
"Amber's the one who said that you and Uncle Harry will marry." Leo spoke up, contributing his two knuts worth.
"Amber also said that Warren will blow up Hogwarts when he gets there." Greg added. Warren rolled his eyes, smirking. Everyone else laughed.
"We'd better get a move on," Ginny urged them, "Everyone else is coming over later. You boys need to get dressed."
It was an annual tradition that every New Year was spent at one of the Weasley children's home – this year it was Ginny's turn.
As they boys filtered out of them room, to go upstairs and change, Ginny paused to speak to Harry privately before following them.
"You didn't have to do that in front of them." Ginny told him, scowling in disapproval, referring to the kiss earlier.
"I was trying to make a point." Harry told her. The twinkle in his eye gave him away.
"Yeah right. More like you were trying to use it as an excuse to kiss me." Ginny concluded shrewdly, shooting him a smug grin before walking out of the breakfast room.
You do not notice the dead leaving when they really choose to leave you. You are not meant to. At most you feel them as a wave of a whisper undulating down, like an unexplained breeze in a closed room. That was exactly what Ginny felt as she sat there in the living room, on New Year's Day, surrounded by her loved ones.
Harry was sitting beside her, a comforting warmth suffusing her everytime his leg brushed against hers. He had stayed by her side ever since summer, during which the world had changed for them and for others and would change again and again and again -there was no way to stop it.
"I know we shouldn't start too early," Fred said, ignoring the reproachful looks from all the women in the room, "but what's your poison, boys?"
"I thought we were set up for champagne," Mr. Weasley said.
"We are later," George called out from the usually unused bar outside the living room, where he was helping Fred with the drinks. "We're offering an aperitif."
"I think I'll pass." Harry said.
"Ditto." Ron added. Charlie and Mr. Weasley refused as well.
"Bill?"
Bill was teaching Warren how to use the drum set he had bought for him as an early birthday present.
"I'm teaching Warren the drums." He pointed out.
Fred held his tongue about the questionable sobriety of known jazz greats. "Well, how about five scintillating tumblers of water?"
There was laughing and talking and more laughing. The older children sat around with the adults while the younger ones were up in the playroom. Through it all, Warren banged and he banged and he banged. And Bill was the only one smiling after five minutes of it. Everyone else had glimpsed the future and it was loud.
"I think now would be a good time to introduce him to the brush," Mrs. Weasley said.
Bill obliged. He held Warren's wrist as it held the brush stick. "Just pass it over the snare lightly." And Warren did and looked up at his mother and Uncle Harry sitting across from him on the couch.
"Pretty cool." Harry said. Ginny nodded, grinning.
"Like a rattlesnake." Raphael who was sitting on the rug, cross-legged, near his mother, added.
Bill liked that. "Exactly," He said, visions of his ultimate jazz combo dancing in his head. All he had to do was wait for his four-year-old son Rick to grow up and start playing the saxophone.
Some time later, "Okay everyone!" George shouted, from the bar, "Harry has an announcement to make, so sit down!"
Harry who had left his seat to speak in hushed tones with the twins at the bar, walked into the living room along with them. Fred held a tray of champagne flutes ready to be filled. Harry glanced at Ginny briefly.
"Fred is going to assist me in the pouring." Harry said.
"Something he's quite good at." Alicia said.
"Alicia?" Fred said.
"Yes?"
"I love you."
"Go ahead, Harry." Mrs. Weasley urged, ignoring her son's antics.
But Ron knew his best friend. "You're not done, wordsmith. Warren, give him some brush!"
This time Bill let Warren do it without assistance, and Warren backed Harry up.
"I want to say that I'm glad to be spending the first day of the New Year with all of you, especially you, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley," Harry looked at them, at this juncture, "All I can say is that I'm honored to be marrying your beautiful daughter."
"Hear, hear!" Mr. Weasley said, his voice barely audible as everyone exploded at Harry's words.
"Finally!" Someone cried out – it was most probably Ron.
"Told you so!" Amber crowed.
There was lots of hugging, some tears – from Ron and Mrs. Weasley to be specific, and loads of smiles. Even Raphael let loose, slipping the knot that usually held him, into a rare joy, jumping around with his cousins and Greg, while Warren made as much noise as he could on the drums.
The champagne cork popped.
"Like a master!" Fred said to George, who was pouring.
Angelina stood to hold the tray for them and together they distributed the glasses across the room.
As Ginny watched her family sip champagne, she thought about how all their lives had trailed backward and forward from death, first Sirius', then Percy's during The Second War and later Terry's and then, as Harry took the daring step of kissing her in a room full of family, became borne aloft away from it.
These were the immeasurable ties that had grown around such absences: the connections – sometimes tenuous, sometimes made at a great cost, but often magnificent – that happened after people were gone.
And Ginny began to finally see things in a way that let her hold the world without Terry in it. The events that his death wrought were merely to give back to his loved ones what he had received from them during his lifetime – love, faith and hope.
With the promise that Bill would teach him to do drum rolls after dinner, Warren put up his brush and drum sticks, and everyone else began to trail into the dining room where the house elves were using the good plates to serve a delicious lunch.
As Harry took her hand in his, leading her to the dining room, Raphael and Greg in front of her laughing with Amber and Darren, Ginny realized that even though she was still unsure of what the future had in store of her, there were some things that she knew for certain. Plant roses and lavender for luck. Hug and kiss your children as much as possible. Always eat fresh cherries with whipped cream. Fall in love whenever you can.
THE END
Author's Note
Everyone seemed to like the scene between Harry and Greg. I put a lot of myself, my emotions into it. I relate to Greg on many levels but that's one part in this story where Greg's doubts are very much mine.
I try to write stories that center around the real kind of love, instead of the fluffy high school type – so yeah, I know exactly what you mean.
I didn't want to make this story too long and drag it on till it loses its appeal and ended up becoming like one of those soap operas that I am addicted to, specifically Bold and The Beautiful – I want Ridge and Bridget to get together, now that Brooke is dead. I know, I know, I'm weird. Besides, I've already written it out this way and I can't think of anyway to stretch it anymore – I mean Harry's in love with Ginny, everyone knows, the boys have accepted him, all that is left is Ginny realizing her feelings for Harry, moving on and reciprocating Harry's feelings, then end of story.
Wolf's Scream: The words getting joined together phenomenon seems to occur after I have uploaded the story. Have had to correct this every time I upload a chapter – very irritating. And even after correcting it, other words will wind up joined together. 'You'll' is supposed to be taken as 'you all'. How can I not accept such great help in editing with anything short of gratitude?
I was waiting for someone to mention something about Terry's and Ginny's love story. I'm glad you liked it.
No sequels. That I'm certain of.
I have said it before and I'll say it again, Finding Neverland inspired this story so you will find similar conversations and scenarios.
Blue rope? Black ribbon on your ankle? What are you going on about? Lol.
I'm beginning to realize that ever since my third chapter, my story has attracted a lot of opposing views – first about Mrs.Weasley and her conversation with Harry, then about completing this story in five chapters – I wonder what's next…lol.
I hope with all my heart the ending was satisfactory though I'm positive I'll get some comments about how rushed it seems for Ginny to suddenly have feelings for Harry but if you go back and read my previous chapters, you'll realize that she had feelings for Harry ever since the third chapter but was unaware of it – even her mother observed this.
REVIEW! REVIEW! PLEASE REVIEW!