Boulevard of Broken Dreams
Disclaimer: Anything you see or recognise is not mine….
What is love? That was the thought that plagued Ginny during the stifling hot summer days after her fifth year.
Was it love when you could not take your eyes off him? When he was cute to everyone else but absolutely perfectly beautiful to you?
Was it love when you wanted him so much you could not see straight, even though you barely knew him?
Was it love when you would do anything in the world for him, you felt yourself hurt when he hurt and you would do anything, anything in the world to make it all better for him?
Or was it love when knew all his faults, his strengths, his moods, seen every facet of his character, seen him in tears, seen him at his most vulnerable, at his most victorious, seen him angry, sad, jealous, joyous, aroused, amused and you still wanted him?
Or was love simply wanting someone who wanted you just as much, perhaps even more?
Perhaps love was all of the above, in equal parts or maybe some more than the others, Ginny realised as she stood in the doorway, silently watching Harry pack for his trip – to search for the horcurxes, Hermione had told her a few nights ago – while the rest of the family slept and Ron and Hermione puttered around in the kitchen, looking for food to take with them.
Forget me, Harry had told her after dinner as they sat in the porch together, enjoying the privacy of being together, just the two of them.
How do your forget someone who is ingrained in your every thought? Ginny had wondered inwardly, simply reaching across the swing to place her hand on his. It was better to remain silent at times like this. For if she spoke she would say something she would regret like 'I love you'.
She wanted to lay her head on his chest and feel how soft it was despite how hard and muscular it looked.
She wanted to run her fingers through his lush dark hair. She wanted to slip her hand into his, their fingers entwining. She wanted to feel her fingers uncurl against his supple palm.
She wanted to feel his lips against the inside of her wrist. She wanted to put her face to his chest and smell, the unique scent of another body run by a chemistry entirely different from her own.
She wanted to feel the hard, angular, masculine lines of his body pressed against hers as they made love.
She wanted, most of all, to watch the dark black hair at his temples grey with age.
Instead, she watched him shoulder his knapsack on his shoulder, tuck his wand into his pocket. He finally noticed that she had been standing there all this while watching him. He stared at her, an unreadable expression on his face. Then he looked away from her and walked past her, heading downstairs to join Ron and Hermione.
Ginny did not run after him, did not try and stop him, did not even go down to bade her brother and best friend goodbye even though it might possibly be the last timeshe would see them. After she heard the click of the kitchen door being closed, the house suddenly absolutely still in the night, she crumpled onto the ground, her body wrecked with dry heaving sobs.
That was how her mother found her next morning – lying on the bed Harry usually slept in, clutching a sweater of his, having cried herself to sleep.
Molly knew, even though they had tried to keep it a secret from her, what they had been planning to do, that they would not return to Hogwarts. She had not tried to stop them, she knew better. But now as she sat on the bed beside her only daughter and smoothed Ginny's hair back, watching her sleep, she wished she had listened to her heart and stopped them.
But it was too late. Great men had died. Children had grown up. Hearts were broken. Tears were shed. And it would continue and there was nothing anyone could do to prevent it.
FINITO
A/N: please let me know what you think…title is inspired by a Green Day song of the same title….