Memory 1
Disclaimer: No, I don't hate J.K.- I pity her. For while she has to make the journeys of these characters G rated, I am free to follow their real journeys. Or at least, how my twisted mind sees them. Anyway, for convenience' sake: I do not own any of these characters, neither dead nor living. I simply write their souls in deepest passion and outright hate.
IMPORTANT A/N: If you don't read this, you won't understand the story. In between each chapter of the main story will be what I call a "Memory". This is actually a chapter of another story, of the events that happen at the end of seventh year, five years before the main story. This story runs alongside the main one and helps explain certain plot twists that are going to happen.
For whatever reason, that she wouldn't state, Hermione insisted on a low-key birthday. She hadn't even wanted a party to begin with, but then it was Ginny's turn to argue: This was important, probably more than any of them realised. So there they were: Harry lazing in a tight green t-shirt that matched his eyes, Ron looking uncomfortable in dress robes because he'd thought it was a formal occasion. Hermione arrived ten minutes early- of course- so they didn't get all the decorations up. And then Ron had forgotten the cake, so Ginny had been forced to make one. Therefore, they didn't really get started 'til about three. And it was then, in an awkward few minutes, the four realised that they had no idea what you actually did at a party.
"Right-" said Ginny, breaking the silence, "I'll get drinks shall I?"
Ginny grinned at Harry as he reached for a bottle of butterbeer. "How many of those have you had?" she teased him, tossing her hair.
Harry smiled. It was beautiful, Harry's smile. And it was terrible. It hovered uncertainly at the edges of his face, before emerging and spreading slowly across his features, like a breeze that stirred the poplars. It was an easy smile. But even as he grinned at her now, it could still be seen in the darkness of his green eyes, in the depths of his soul, pain- grief- wasn't something that Harry experienced- it was who he was. Loss had shaped his life. And hardship had moulded his mind. It was his gift that they loved each other, and his curse that he must let her go.
No, Harry wouldn't ask her to wait for him, for they both knew dark days lay ahead. But he didn't have to- her life was his, or she'd die alone.
She looked away. Time for presents. She thought weakly, Let's open some presents.
Harry tracked Ginny down after the present giving. Hermione had been delighted with her gifts and had disappeared up to try Lavender's dress on. And, to Harry's great amusement, Ron had followed her. He had a feeling they would be quite some time.
Ginny was outside, staring around at the Weasley's wild garden. She smiled when she saw him and made room for him to sit beside her, balancing on the narrow slice of grass between the gnome fort and the Weasley's manic pond. They stared for a moment at Gig-gig (Ron had named him at the age of five), a giant, cannibalistic fish, carving his way through the algae, causing the other little guppies to swim for their lives.
Harry cleared his throat. "Ron and Hermione have gone upstairs to try 'Mione's dress on."
Ginny grinned. "What, both of them?"
Harry smiled too. "Yeah."
More silence. The quiet of the most comforting discomfort ever. He wished he could sit here with her forever.
"Ginny-"
"Harry, I understand. You do what you have to do."
"I wish I didn't have to." He glared at the sky. "I wish we could sit here. Forever… I never wanted to be special or great. I just wanted a normal life. But He took that from me. And I hate him. I just wanted to be normal."
"But you're not Harry. You are great."
Her hair had fallen over her shoulder so he could not see her face. His fingers brushed it aside. Delighting for a moment in the liquid fire and the softness of her snowy skin. Her eyes- so blue- searched his, as though memorising them by touch. He leaned close and kissed her gently. And at that moment, he didn't care about Voldemort, or the war, or the Death Eaters, or what he had to do.
But then- "No Ginny. We can't. He'll find out. He'll know."
She smiled sadly and laid her head on his shoulder so that her face was buried in his neck. "This is your path." She whispered, so he could barely hear her. "I just wish I could walk it with you.'
Harry pulled her into his arms and across the road a black figure detached itself from the shadows.