May 2001
The dining room was empty. As was the bathroom, the garden, the bedroom, every last place that Harry could think of. If he wasn't so busy tearing apart the new Weasley house, he would've noticed that the kitchen lights were on. Alas, he didn't search there until he heard a stair creak.
Once upon a time, Ginny had run from him because she'd liked him.
Now, he knew it was the opposite.
"Ginny," Harry yelled and ran towards the stairs, only catching a glimpse of copper before she flew up the stairs. He was faster, but she had the advantage. She had rage, fear, confusion. He had only apologies, and when did apologies account for his actions?
The door slammed shut in his face.
He rested his forehead on the door, resting his fist against the door and exhaling. Behind the door, he heard the telltale shush of curtains moving into place, the quick inhales that showed that she was holding back sobs, the stomping because she was still angry.
"I'm sorry," Harry whispered against the wood. "Again and again and again."
Another voice-not Ginny's-called from the bottom of the stairs. "Harry! Harry, where are you? Molly is cutting the cake!"
It had been a mistake, he knew that. But he'd warned Ginny. He'd warned Ron, Hermione, George even! It still wasn't enough.
Three years ago, he and Ginny had been dating. That final kiss had sealed their fate, had promised them a future so stunning that it hurt to look at. But the brighter their future seemed, the more Harry itched to look at it. Ginny refused to even look at any future, not when she could have the past. Even a year after the Battle of Hogwarts, she mourned Fred, what-or-who was forever lost in that castle. No matter what Harry did, he could not heal old scars or replace her brother.
It had been like stepping away from a burning fire when they'd broken up. His future with Katie Bell was not blinding. It was a beautiful, simple light that did not consume or steal or take but that warmed. He missed that. It had only been a year since they started dating, and already, he could not fathom another present.
He should have predicted that Ginny would be grieving. He should have been better - he knew this! But he could not change the past.
Katie snaked her hand into his non-fisted one and grabbed it fiercely, forcing his gaze to her's. Her eyes were black, framed by thick dark lashes that were now sweeping up to his fist on the door. If her eyes could darken, they would.
"You're busy," she said slowly and removed her hand. "You're trying to talk to her."
Damn, Harry thought. Now I have two witches angry at me.
He grabbed her hand and forced himself to step away from Ginny's door, all aware that there was silence behind it. Not speaking, he brought them both downstairs, then outdoors, where the rest of the Weasley clan waited. Well, most of them. Harry was reminded of this fact every day.
"Did you find her?" Molly asked, serving more mashed potatoes onto the very pregnant Fleur's plate.
Katie looked up at Harry then wretched her hand from his, finding her way to Angelina, who was set to marry George in less than two weeks. It was why they were all gathered, why Harry was drawn away from London and the Ministry and Katie and their apartment and his future. Where Harry had been avoiding Ginny.
"Yes, Molly," Harry mumbled.
"Call me Mum-" Molly stopped. "Oh, dear. That would make things worse."
Ron looked positively affronted. "Yes, Mum, it would."
Harry and Ron's relationship was still tender. It had taken many months, many phone calls, and many frustrated visits from Hermione to even talk to Ron again. But if Ron blamed Harry for breaking up with Ginny, then Harry didn't want to talk to him either.
"I'm worried about her," Hermione dared from next to Ron. "She only surfaced briefly, and only to make a snide comment about Kate and Harry."
"She needs to get out of her room," Fleur said. "Isolation is not good for a broken heart."
Harry reddened. "I think she can figure it out herself."
"I think I can too."
Ginny stood behind them, her hands on her hips like she could bring the house down if she wanted to. Her hair was aflame in the fading light, offset by the navy blue of her dress, a reckless thing that smoldered with her. She was angry. She was hurting. She was beautiful.
Katie grabbed a bottle of firewhiskey. "Want a glass, Ginny?"
Ginny narrowed her eyes at Katie but nodded.
What the hell? Harry thought, recalling a time two months ago - the last time he'd come here - when Ginny had drunk a whole bottle of firewhiskey only to insult Harry to his face and then burn a picture of him. But this time, it wasn't just them at the house. It was everyone.
He cut a glare to Katie. "Pouring yourself one too?"
She made him a saccharine smile. "Want one, Harold?"
Oh, well this was just petty.
"I'm not seeking to get drunk tonight, Katherine."
Hermione stood up. "Can we not just talk about this like normal adults?"
"No, Hermione," Harry snapped.
"No, Harry, you're just 'seeking' to run back to Ginny like you always do." Katie's eyes were silver-lined when she threw back her head and drank a whole glass. When it slammed back down on the table, Harry tensed. "I keep thinking that it's changed. That the Harry Potter is finally, finally mine. But every time we come to this-" she cast a dismissive hand to the house. "-Place, you go back again!"
Molly flinched.
Harry did not. "You don't get to tell me how to live my life!"
"No," Katie seethed. "She does."
Ginny looked like she'd rather be drunk in Pittsburg than be in the same two-thousand-foot radius as them. She picked up the bottle, cast a glance at Molly, and left.
Before Harry and Katie could kill each other, Ron grabbed Harry's arm and pulled him from the party.
"Ay, mate, why don't you stay here tonight? Katie can get home and have a spot of drink, cool down a bit, and then-"
"Why, Ron, would you think me staying here would be a good idea?" Harry levelled, suddenly exhausted.
"Yeah," Hermione added behind them. Though he wasn't looking at her, Harry could practically see the hands on her hips, the arch of her brow. "Why?"
