Ginny Kissed Me
A post-Hogwarts H/G- I may or may not post the finished version later- parets of this are a bit untidy, grammerwise.
A different take on the Harry Potter future. Based on one of my favorite poems (End of the story)
"Lily! I'm telling! Hey, LilyAnne put a hex on my broom!"
"It's not even a real broom, Jamie!"
"Sure it is!"
"It doesn't even fly, stupid!"
"That doesn't mean it's not real! Plenty of real things don't fly! Anyway, it wasn't a real hex, either."
"Sure it was!"
"It didn't even hex, stupid!"
"Did too, line thief!"
"Did not, wannabe witch!"
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
"Did too!"
"Did not!"
Then, inevitably, both voices raised in chorus:
"DAAAAAAAD!"
Harry smiled fondly. It was odd- all his younger years, people who cared of nothing about him but his name and his scar had trailed him. You're in trouble? Call for Harry Potter! Need a really trustworthy Auror? Well, you need Harry Potter. Your world's turned upside down and you've lost everything? Blame Harry Potter! Writing a book of 'Wizarding England's Most Awkward Scars'? Why, would you believe it, you'll be looking for Famous Harry Bloody Potter. Yet, twenty or so years later, there were two incredible little people who called him nothing but 'Dad'. Life throws you a few turns.
For example, SiriusJames and LilyAnne Potter were quite young. And, Harry knew, he was getting quite old. He'd never meant it to be this way…
He'd planned to fight Voldemort, maybe at eighteen or so, defeat him gloriously, and return to Hogwarts for the sole purpose of sweeping Ginny Weasley off her almost-graduated feet. Then he would have said something heroic, which would sound unimaginably cool, and kiss her- still heroically. These combined events would ultimately rid him of all bitterness about the multiple horrible turns his life had taken up till then. After this, they would, naturally, get married and live happily ever after.
Of course, it hadn't turned out that way.
When Voldemort was finally defeated, Harry didn't feel heroic. He felt like he was dying, which was every nearly the case. When Ron and Hermione found him, he was barely alive. Of course, he'd recovered.
So had the world.
Ron and Hermione were married first, and it wasn't long before most of his friends had moved on to happy, normal, lives. Hogwarts reopened. Hundreds of death eaters went to prison. When the pressure peaked, unlikely sides were ultimately chosen, and even Malfoy had fought beside him. But eventually Draco, as well, had married and settled down. When Harry had next heard, he was raising rich, ruthless, but ultimately moral children.
Everyone had got their happy ending.
Except Harry.
The war hadn't ended with Voldemort. Death Eaters were put behind bars, but there were more, always more. With Voldemort gone, there were attempts at dark takeovers, to varying degrees of success. And Harry had stopped them. Not one, not two or three, but all of them, one after another. He didn't have to: he had fame, charm, talent to spare- He could have done anything. But this- this was what he was. He didn't know what else there was he could be.
And there were so, so many to avenge.
Sirius Black, Cedric Diggory, George Weasley. Cho Chang, Neville's parents, Harry's parents. They were only the beginning: there were always more death eaters, and there was always more death. Somewhere deep inside, Harry still needed to fight for them, to avenge them again, as if, by fighting enough, he could save them.
And somewhere along the way, he lost himself. The memories were nothing- vengeance was everything. He was a hero, but his own soul was being lost with every death eater he defeated.
He only barely saw it in time. Ron, Hermione, and Remus had tried to convince him, with no success. It wasn't until Ginny wrote a quiet, sad letter to him that he realized how far he'd gotten from his chosen path. He'd left the same day. Disappeared from all society. A few halfhearted attempts were made to find him, but no real effort. Harry potter was known of by everyone, but truly known by no one. They couldn't make themselves want him back-they didn't even know who they wanted back. In a way, that was why he left. Those who did know him knew that he needed to go, and let him for his sake, praying that made the right choice.
He hid away in various quiet places, thinking and waiting, sleeping till the nightmares faded. He forgot things.
He forgot the disinfected smell if Aunt Petunia's kitchen.
He forgot the scores of some quidditch games.
He forgot the layout of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes.
He forgot what, exactly, is the required dosage of veritaserum before the brain overloads and sleeps.
He forgot which sink in Hogwarts led to the chamber of secrets.
He forgot a great many things that had once seemed quite important.
But he also forgot the faces of the families of death eaters, who had to hear from him that their loved one was going to prison.
But he had never- never- forgotten Ginny. Not a single thing, not her hair, her smile, or her eyes. Not her soft voice he tough punch or her powerful hexes. Not her flying, her dancing or the way she walked. Not her jokes and not her way of firmly calling him on his crap. He'd never forgotten her, though by now, he was sure, she had forgotten him. Perhaps she still remembered, maybe even loved him. But she was practical. She would have married, and had children, and it wouldn't be long before those children would be having children. And none of them would be at all related to him.
Yet despite that, it was the memory of her that got him through the years. Years of fighting followed by years of hermitage. He'd have gone insane if he hadn't had Ginny, even though he'd never actually had her there at all.
And so it was, twenty years after the fall of Voldemort, that Harry Potter emerged from self inflicted exile.
And so it was, as well, that the first thing he did was to find Ginny.
When he found the place where she lived, he knew nothing but that she was still called 'Weasley', and that he had never been so afraid of anything as he was right then.
It was a nice little house, the kind that has to be described as a 'cottage', with ivy outside and cats in the garden. The cottage was stone with green trim, but the door was red, with an old-fashioned doorbell. Harry pulled the rope hesitantly, and was awarded with a kind "Come in."
The voice was familiar, but much older, and Harry hesitated. Still, twenty years of memories had to amount to something… even if Ginny had forgotten him; he wanted her to know- later- that he had gone first to her.
He opened the door.
Inside was a cozy room with a softly burning fire, and candles on the mantle. The whole room was decorated in Classic Feline, with cats covering most surfaces.
In front of the fire was a rocking chair, and in it-
She was older, for certain. She was not so straight or so proud as she had once been, and seemed tired. Her hair, though it had lost none of its color, was pulled up into an uncharacteristic bun. The cat on her lap didn't help the general look either.
"If you're here from That Paper again," Her voice was brisk but kind, "you should know by now that I'm not going to speak to you."
"I'm not from a paper." Said Harry uncertainly.
Ginny tensed a little, and then turned in her chair. Her face was lined with unhappiness, and a few wisps of perfect red hair fell into her sad eyes.
He'd never seen anything so beautiful.
She studied him closely, and Harry was painfully aware that he hadn't even cut his hair or changed his clothes, ad that this fine lady was definitely giving him marks. She scrutinized him carefully; searching for something she had long since given up on finding. Her eyes widened slowly.
"H-Harry?"
He nodded.
"HARRY!"
She smiled radiantly, and in an instant, the lines left her face, and the young girl he remembered shone clearly through. She leapt from the chair, and dashed to him, dismaying quite a few cats. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him joyfully. When she drew away, Harry could see tears in her eyes.
"I never gave up on you, Harry…"
"Ginny… I'm sorry. I- I'm so sorry."
"Shh." She smiled tearfully, putting a finger over his lips. "Just… don't leave, okay? I- I've lived with a lot, but I can't lose you… again."
"Ginny I swear. I will never, ever leave you again. I'm so sorry."
It was a promise he'd never even been tempted to break. They'd been married within a year, and were the talk of the wizarding community for about a week. To their surprise and joy, had two children, first LilyAnne, then SiriusJames. The name of Harry Potter became far secondary to the name 'Dad'.
There had been great tragedies in his life, and that life had nearly been taken more that once. He'd been poor, and tired, for many years. And now, it seemed, he was getting old.
Harry Potter had never been happier.
For Ginny kissed him.
Jenny kiss'd me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in;
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in!
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
Say that health and wealth have missed me,
Say I'm growing old, but add,
Jenny kiss'd me.