August 30, 1999
Ginny Weasley sat stoically at Harry's side, alternating between taking a sip of her tea and looking at the screens showing Harry's vitals. He'd been unconscious for almost four days, and the healers said that if he didn't wake up soon, his chance of ever waking up was cut in half.
Tears pricked at her eyes as she glanced at the screens. He had to wake up. He just had to.
"Ginny?" Ron curled his fingers over her shoulder, leaning over to kiss her temple. She barely noticed. "…You should go home and get some sleep, love."
"I have to be here when he wakes up," Ginny stated stubbornly. Ron sighed and sat in the chair next to her.
"If you don't get some rest, we'll be admitting you next. Sitting here worrying isn't going to wake him up."
Ginny's eyes flashed as she glared at Ron, looking away from Harry for the first time in hours. "I can't leave him here. I won't. How would you feel if it was Hermione laying there? Would you leave her side, even for an hour, just to get some sleep?"
"…No." Ron sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "I'd sleep in the chair." Ginny nodded.
"I can't leave him, Ron. I have to be here when he wakes up." Ginny drew in a trembling breath, turning her eyes back to Harry. His chest rose and fell steadily, just as it had for the past seventy-nine hours. The charm above his bed pulsed in time with his heartbeat. Ron sighed again, pressing a kiss to Ginny's cheek.
"I know," he murmured. Ginny reached over and squeezed his knee gently. Slowly, he stood and brushed Harry's fringe back from his face. "…You wake up soon, mate," he instructed softly, tracing his thumb over the lightening bolt scar.
After a moment, Ron withdrew his hand and slipped out of the room. Ginny could hear him talking to someone outside the door, their voices muffled beyond recognition. Not that she cared who was out there. The only thing that mattered right now was Harry. She set her teacup on the table next to his bed and scooted her chair closer. One hand curled around his, and the other reached up to stroke his hair tenderly. She could feel the tears welling up again as she leaned in to rest her cheek on his chest.
"Wake up, Harry. Please. …It's not fair. You defeated Voldemort. You should be awake to celebrate with the rest of us. You shouldn't be lying here like this. So wake up. Open your eyes, Harry Potter. Please," she begged, closing her eyes as the tears escaped. A low sob ripped through the room, and she shifted to bury her face into his shoulder as her body shook. She cried as silently as she could, knowing that if the nurses found her breaking down like this, they would surely forbid her from being in the room.
Ginny cried quietly until she drifted into a deep sleep, still clutching Harry's hand desperately. She slept so heavily that she didn't feel two arms curling around her and gently coaxing her onto the bed. So deeply that she didn't feel the soft kiss on the top of her head or the fingers stroking her hair soothingly. So soundly that she didn't even stir when a nurse poked her head into the room only a moment later and let out a cry of surprise at the sight that greeted her.
Harry Potter was awake.
September 9, 1999
Ginny frowned as she walked past Ron's bedroom door. Harry hadn't come out of that room since he arrived, other than to take the short trip down the hall to the loo. Ron had been bringing him his dinner, and Hermione would try to coax him out with desserts. But he hadn't spoken to anyone else in the house. He wouldn't even speak to Mrs. Weasley, who was going out of her mind with worry.
Pausing, Ginny lifted her hand. He hadn't answered any of her inquiries before. But maybe today was the day. She knocked softly on the door, leaning against the frame.
"Harry? It's Ginny. Can I come in?" she asked softly. There was silence for a moment, a quiet murmuring, and then Ron opened the door and stepped out.
"He isn't up to talking," he said quietly. Ginny's temper flared.
"He hasn't been 'up to talking' since he came home a week ago," she snapped. "I sat with him the whole time he was in that hospital bed, and now he won't even give me five minutes?"
"Just leave it, Gin," Ron growled warningly, but Ginny was on a roll.
"No! I won't' just 'leave it.' Tell him to get off his arse and to stop feeling sorry for himself. There are people out here who care about him. People who have been waiting this whole time for just a hug. Mum's going mad with worry. I'm going mad with worry…" She ran out of steam, slouching. Ron hugged her tightly, and she hugged him back after a moment. It wasn't his fault, after all.
"I'm sorry, Ron," she whispered, closing her eyes. "I didn't mean to yell at you. I'm just so frustrated." Ron nodded and kissed her forehead as he released her.
"I know. But he just needs time."
Ginny sighed loudly. "Voldemort's dead. The war's over. We need our Harry back," she told Ron, loud enough that she was sure Harry had heard. Before her brother could reply, she turned and made her way down the hall.
She met Hermione at the top of the stairs, and the brunette walked down beside her, silent. As Ginny stepped down the last step, Hermione took her hand and squeezed gently.
"He'll come back to us," she assured the younger girl. "Ron might be shielding him from the rest of us, but he's trying to get Harry to come out. He is." Ginny nodded slowly, and Hermione gave her a sad looking smile. "He got a bit of a breakthrough, yesterday. Harry actually acknowledged that the war's casualties weren't his fault."
"I just…" Ginny started, her eyes burning. "I just wish I could help him," she whispered. Hermione squeezed her hand again.
"You did. You helped him wake up. And, when he's ready, I'm sure he'll let you fuss over him all you want." Hermione nudged her gently, smiling. "He always did enjoy your fussing a bit more than your mum's." Ginny managed a small smile and rolled her eyes.
"C'mon," she said, ushering Hermione towards the kitchen. "Maybe if we help Mum with supper, she'll let us off dishes duty."
Upstairs, Harry Potter was slowly preparing for the scene Molly Weasley was sure to make when he came downstairs for his first supper since he came to the Burrow.
January 1, 2000
Harry scowled darkly as he stomped through the front door of the Burrow. "Bloody bastard reporters," he snarled under his breath. Ginny half-jogged after him, still feeling nauseous from Apparating. They had just been drinking tea and enjoying the nice day in Diagon Alley when a swarm of journalists had descended upon them, asking Harry rapid-fire questions. About the war, about his personal life, about everything. He'd been polite at first, explaining that he didn't have time for, nor did he want to answer their questions. All he wanted to do was finish his tea with Ginny and do a bit of shopping. But they refused to leave, getting louder and ruder with every shake of Harry's head.
When one reporter stuck his camera in Harry's face and took a photo, Harry snapped. He physically shoved the reporter away, dragged Ginny out of the café, and Apparated them to the designated area outside the Burrow.
"Nosey arseholes. Isn't there anything more interesting to write about? Honestly, who bloody cares what kind of tea I drink? Or what I sleep in?" He sighed loudly and flopped onto the couch, covering his face with his hands. "…Sometimes I hate living here."
Ginny sat next to him and softly touched his arm. "They just have nothing exciting to write about. It's been weeks since the last Death Eater was captured. They just need something that will excite the readers. They all want an exclusive from Harry Potter, The-Man-Who-Lived."
"Well, none of them are getting it," he snapped. When Ginny withdrew her hand, he sighed and took it gently. "I'm sorry. I'm just so sick of been assaulted by people every time I leave the house. The war's over, but I'm still the wizarding hero. I just want to have a normal life, you know?" Ginny nodded, lacing their fingers together and squeezing. He rested his head on her shoulder and closed his eyes. "I want to go somewhere that nobody knows me for being The-Boy-Who-Lived. Somewhere that people know me for just being Harry Potter." Ginny ran her fingers soothingly through his hair.
"You just have to understand that a lot of people need someone to look to for safety. To them, if they have Harry Potter, then they have nothing to fear. They have someone who is willing to sacrifice his own childhood to save their lives. They can't see how much this is hurting you." She ran the tips of her fingers over Harry's scar, and he shivered. "…Maybe you should take a vacation. Go somewhere with a nice beach and have a relaxing week away from everyone. Some time to yourself."
Harry made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat, half shrugging. "Maybe. But when I come back…so do all of the articles and reporters." He sighed heavily and reluctantly sat up. "I wish I could just get away from it permanently."
It had been three days since that conversation. And Harry was gone.
Ginny read the letter he had left for the last time.
I'm sorry, everyone. Let me just say that to start with. I'm sorry for any sadness that I've caused you. You're the only family I have left, and I don't want to hurt any of you. But I can't live like this anymore. I can't be peering around every corner for reporters for the rest of my life. I'm tired. I'm tired of being recognized on the streets. I'm tired of the constant owls. I'm tired of all of it.
I've left England. By the time you read this, I hope to be as far from this country as I can. Somewhere I won't be assaulted on my way to the grocery store.
Please don't try to find me. I know it might seem harsh, but I need some time to get my life together. Believe me, when I'm ready to be found, I'll contact you. I hope you understand. I'm sorry it had to happen like this, but it had to be done.
I've never been able to say this out loud, but I love all of you. I do.
Forever yours,
Harry J. Potter
Ginny scowled, wiping stubbornly at her eyes. He left them. He left her. And he didn't have the decency to say goodbye to their faces. That's what really made her angry. That he couldn't explain to them, face to face, that he needed to get away and he would be back when he'd found what he was looking for.
"You took the coward's way out, Harry Potter," she muttered. Taking a deep breath, she crumbled the letter into a ball and tossed it into the fireplace, watching the flames flicker as it caught.
May 15, 2015
Harry Potter fiddled unnecessarily with the collar of his robes. He hadn't worn a pair of robes in fifteen years. In American schools, only the oldest, most formal teachers had worn robes, and that was only to the welcoming feast on the first day of school. After that, both students and professors regularly wore Muggle clothes.
He glanced around the office in which he sat curiously. It was a lot more cheerful than he thought a Ministry office would be. Floral paintings adorned the walls, and there was a bright bouquet of yellow tulips on the secretary's desk. The secretary, a pretty brunette, smiled widely at Harry and handed him back his identification.
"All done, Mr. Potter," she chirped. "I don't know if you remember me, but I went to school with you, way back when." Harry blinked, peering hard at the girl. She grinned, shrugging. "I was a bit smaller then, I think," she joked. "Natalie McDonald. Well, Creevey, now. I married Dennis. You remember Colin, I assume." Harry nodded dumbly.
"Wow. It's…it's been quite a while."
Natalie nodded, waving a hand idly. "Sorry if I caught you off guard. I don't get a chance to see too many old classmates, with work and two boys at home. If you could have a seat, I'll buzz you in." Harry nodded, sinking into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs.
"Thanks very much."
The brunette just bobbed her head, pressing a small button on her phone. 'Since when did the Ministry have a telephone connection?' Harry wondered. "Ma'am, you have a visitor," Natalie announced.
"Business or pleasure?" A woman's voice floated over the speaker, sounding vaguely familiar, but Harry couldn't remember where he had heard it before.
"Business, I'm afraid," Natalie replied, winking at Harry.
"Send them in."
Harry pushed himself up as Natalie motioned to the door. "Go on in, then," she instructed, offering him a hand. "And it was really nice seeing you again, Harry. Really nice. Welcome back to England." Harry shook her hand, smiling.
"Thanks, Natalie. It's good to be back. Say hi to Dennis, will you?" he requested, turning the door handle.
"I will," she vowed, waving him in. "Take care of yourself." Harry grinned and slipped through the door. A redheaded woman stepped towards him once he was inside the room, holding out her hand.
"Hi. I'm…" she started, trailing off in apparent shock. Harry stared at her in surprise, scarcely believing his eyes. The only woman who haunted his dreams after he and Charlotte split up was now standing in front of him, flesh, blood, red hair and all.
"Ginny Weasley," he breathed.