Title: He Hates Her
Timeframe: Postwar
HBP Compliant: Yes
Pairing: Harry/Ginny
Rating: PG-13
Summary: He hates her, and everything about her, but he needs her, so he stays.
------ Harry/Ginny ------
He hates the way her perfume envelopes him when she gets close. The way he can smell it, all over her, like she's trying to cover up years of dirt and blood and war. He hates her for trying to cover up everything that made him who he is today, hates her for trying to hold on to innocence that left him years ago.
He hates the amount of makeup she paints onto her face every morning. The perfect lines drawn across her eyes and shadow covering their lids. The foundation pressed into the lines of her face, trying to conceal the scars from the world. He knows how she got those scars, knows the stories behind each and every one. He loves those scars because they show that she really is a Gryffindor at heart, and she was brave enough to risk everything to save the ones she loved. He hates how she covers them, hides them, like they're something to be ashamed of. Like The Cause was something to be ashamed of. Like he is something to be ashamed of.
He hates the way she refuses to wear sleeveless tops and short skirts now. Because she used to wear them all the time and he used to love the way the skirts would fly up over her scarred, Quidditch knees and the tops would show off her muscular arms. Now her knees are scarred from battle and her arms are gnashed and skinny and she won't show them to anyone because she thinks they're ugly. But he thinks they're beautiful and wants to see them in the sunlight, not just in the bedroom.
He hates how she always turns the lights off before she gets undressed, like she's ashamed for even him to see her scars. He knows how those scars formed, knows that half of them match his, and he loves them, each and every one of them, because they're a part of her even if she doesn't think so.
He hates her now. Or at least, he hates the person she's become. She doesn't smile anymore, she hides behind makeup and jewelry and clothes. She's never happy, never satisfied, and she cries too much. She's lost everything that made him love her. Her spirit, her heart, her passion, her quick-wit, her sarcasm. They're all gone, each part of her died as she watched her love ones perish on the battlefield.
He hates her and he doesn't love her but he wants her and he needs her. She's a constant reminder of happiness and joy and true love, even if none of those exist anymore. She's a ghost of a past he's not too keen on letting go of, even though she's fought so hard to forget it, cover it up, erase all traces of it. She's still here, after everything, she's still there for him, by his side, no matter what. And because of that, he can kiss her back even though he tastes the tears on her lips, he can smile at her when she tries to make her lips turn up, and he can hold her at night when she screams out in agony, watching their deaths over and over again in her head. He can pretend to love her, because he knows they need each other, and need is more important than love.