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Skeletons in the Cauldron
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After a long day at the Ministry following the most disastrous day with his former family, Harry craved to have a night of full sleep. The night before consisted of a rather naughty dream between him and his ex-wife, one so dirty he woke up in a warm sweat, his left hand inside his boxer shorts. Needless to say, he got very little shuteye with those raunchy thoughts of Ginny running ceaselessly through his mind.
All he felt like doing revolved around his too large bed and his favorite bowl of cereal. He'd stuff his face and then hit the sack, then allow sweet dreams of Ginny to lull him to sleep.
However, when he arrived home, he nearly found his brow lifting into his hairline. Ron was seated on his front porch, elbows on his knees, chin in his hands; his entire body stance of abject ire, his shoulders tense enough to cut glass. His eyes, though, reminded him of a caged beast, one ready to charge, pounce, and mangle the moment of release. Ron's eyes were the reason he considered just turning around and apparating dead on the spot.
This is just Ron, he berated himself, and while I'm sure he truly is angry at me, I doubt he'll kill me. We're still in the open for Merlin's sake. He'll at least wait until we're inside.
"All right, Ron?"
The man didn't respond immediately, instead taking a few moments to simply stare at his former best mate. Harry felt awkward and nervous under his scrutiny, as though Ron could tell based on his clothes and body stance just how guilty he felt for hurting his baby sister. When he finally rose to his feet, Harry took the initiative to step around him, unlock the door, and open it, allowing his friend entrance into his home.
Ron seemed considerably reluctant, but walked past him inside. Once the door was shut and a few illuminating charms cast, a meaningful silence reigned for quite a while.
When the hush ended, Ron broke it.
"Hermione is incredible," he said bluntly, a stupid smile on his face. Harry, confused and curious, didn't understand, instead opting to listen as Ron continued, "I knew a honeymoon would be paradise, but I never expected nirvana. She's...damn, completely uninhibited and...utterly wanton. I love her like this and even more I love how she's only like this with me."
Harry could only imagine how Hermione would react if she knew her new husband spread this sort of information with anyone, let alone someone he no longer valued as a friend. If he spoke so candidly with him, what did it mean for the other people more close with him?
"I think I'm going to get used to this whole marriage thing...unlike some people."
Ah.
And there it is.
"I honestly cannot imagine why anyone would give this up," he said boldly, a thoughtful look across his mein. "Being in love is the best feeling ever, as cheesy as it sounds. Hermione is the greatest thing in my entire world."
Turning his back on Harry, Ron paced the room, peering up at the walls and the furniture, visibly taking in his new surroundings and checking out the new life he chose. Harry felt overwhelmingly embarrassed in that moment, like a kid caught wearing a silly shirt that seemed undoubtedly cool when first put on. Ron rubbed one finger along the arm of the couch, feeling the fabric, before lifting it up to his eyes as though to examine the marks Harry's itchy, ugly furniture dared to leave on his porcelain skin.
He felt like a muggleborn in the presence of a Malfoy.
"You've moved on up, haven't you, eh? I mean the place you had with Ginny was great, but this...you're living the life of a quidditch player, aren't you?"
"Ron, I—"
"What I don't get is how you gave up the woman you claimed to love if you supposedly felt the way I do now. Hermione is...perfect. It's only been days where I've been able to call her my wife, but I don't ever want to call her anything else. She's my best friend, my lover, and I can't imagine ever wanting a life without her. How did you just toss my sister aside?! How did you go from loving her like I love Hermione to this? Some pathetic pillock who doesn't know his bollocks from his bloody head?"
"It's more complicated than you're making it out—"
"Then fucking explain the complications to me. Explain why in the hell you had the nerve to broach my parents, the parents of your former wife, about her? Why did you go see my brothers and ask each one about her? Why in the fuck are you trying to talk to 'em at all?"
"Ron, will give me five seconds to explain? Please?" he pleaded, hoping to Merlin the man would listen to him.
He saw the burst of anger flood his face, nearly turning him purple, but unlike he anticipated, Ron remained quiet. Furthermore, he took a seat on his couch and gave him a look that said 'get on with it!'
Gulping, feeling like his throat had been coated with scratchy sandpaper, Harry began, "Ron, you're my best friend, you and Hermione, and right now, I want you to listen to me as my best friend. For one moment, forget you're her brother and just be my friend, albeit one who wants to kick me in the bollocks."
"Fine," he growled, genuinely attempting to ignore Ginny for the moment.
"All right," he mumbled, hoping Ron would give him the benefit of the doubt, "Like you, I fell in love, with Ginny. You know this, everyone does, and you know I fell hard. I was a bloody cretin for not noticing her until my sixth year, but I didn't take it for granted when she gave me a second chance. And when I broke it off at the end of the year, I did it for her protection."
"I already know that," replied Ron in a low voice.
Nodding, feeling a small degree of reassurance at his comment, he continued, "Getting back with her seemed like a dream come true and I took it in each day. I loved her with every fiber of my being, and when I asked her to marry me, I felt the exact same way as you do now. I mean I felt like I could do virtually anything."
Ron huffed slightly, not a tone of indifference in the least, but Harry decided it best to push forward.
"A...a few months before everything went completely disastrous, little things started to grate my nerves. I don't know why, but I started to feel smothered and..."
He broke off, running his hands through his inevitably messy hair, trying to find the right way to word it. No longer did he care about offending Ron, but rather he just couldn't find the proper way to word how stupid he'd been.
"I went from zero to sixty in two seconds, you know? I went from not having a family to having someone with me at all times. It's hard to explain, I swear, but I started to resent her."
"So you broke her heart?"
"It was never about breaking her heart, I swear! It was about me needing some freedom. It was about me being a selfish ingrate only thinking about myself rather than her. I should have been thinking about the two of us, I should have just spent a weekend with you and some of the boys, but instead I fucking told her I needed a divorce."
"You ruined her."
Harry turned away, clenching his eyes tightly together, fisting his hair like a mad man. He didn't know if he could stand hearing one more person tell him his perfect little Ginny was ruined.
She's not! She's fine, she's perfect, and she'll never be ruined!
"I'm telling you now with all my heart, my intent wasn't malicious. I didn't want her to stop living life, Merlin knows I'm not worth it. It was about me being selfish, me wanting a chance to be the teenager I never got to be, and I hurt Ginny in the process. Merlin, if I could go back I would. I would kill for a time-turner."
Ron, though he didn't say anything, battled inner-demons. If Harry could read his mind, he'd known Ron was having a difficult time, defending his sister while trying to remember his best friend stood in front of him, the epitome of misery and despair. He meant what he said about Hermione, felt love from every hair on his head to the tips of his toes, and could never imagine not feeling this way. Yet, his friend, the only person who knew him best aside from his wife, did something horrendous to his baby sister.
Ron was caught in the middle, and he hated it. He HATED it.
"Harry, you ask me to understand, but I can't do that. I can't figure out for the life of me, even with all your explanations and excuses, how you could do this to someone you're meant to love. I can't do it. Sorry, mate, but I can't."
Though his words were harsh, for the first time he used a tone other than hateful, not sounding as vicious per his usual.
"I know," acknowledged Harry, bowing his head in shame.
"Look, my family didn't appreciate you coming to see 'em. They're not interested in hearing anything you have to say, even any of what you just told me. It might be best for you to try and find a new avenue."
"What?" he asked immediately, caught off guard by the connotation of his words. Was Ron actually suggesting...
"I think if you're going to do anything then you need to go straight to the source. Talk to Ginny, I guess, and give her the chance to understand."
"You're giving me permission to—"
"This has nothing to do with me giving you permission or a blessing or any of that bullshit," he said, his tone once again stark, "but about me giving my sister the chance for closure. You wanted me to listen and I did, fine, and I took in all you said. Now you need to tell Ginny all of it so she can finally know what she did, or what she apparently didn't do."
Harry's hopes felt dashed.
"Know this though, Harry, that if she asks you to leave then you better fucking leave. I get how you might need to persuade her to listen to you at first, but once you've spoken and made your peace, then you leave her the hell alone. Otherwise, I might consider giving in to what Fred and George have planned for you."
Unable to suppress the shudder at the thought of the Weasley twins concocting a plan, Harry agreed, letting him know he'd oblige.
Standing up, Ron walked toward the door, stopping directly in front of it.
"I'm heading back to Ireland. Hermione agreed to let me go since she told me she had something special planned for tonight. The naughty wink she gave me before I left nearly made me reconsider," he said with a slight chuckle, stupid expression back on his face.
Harry nodded, understanding completely. He remembered Ginny being sexually indiscriminate on their own honeymoon, one he enjoyed immensely.
Shaking his head, temporarily ridding thoughts of Hermione in sexy lingerie so he could finish, Ron said, "My sister means the world to me, Harry. Along with Hermione, my family is the most important group of people in my life. I didn't pick 'em, but I'm not willing to give 'em up though, either."
"I know, Ron."
Sighing, Ron took three steps forward and clasped his left shoulder in a gesture close to something friendly. In a low voice, he muttered, "I don't hate you, Harry, but I truly despise what you did."
Without another word, he walked out the door and left Harry standing in his entryway, too stunned and exhausted to move.
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When Ginny woke up the morning following her wearying visit with her oldest brother, she still felt tired. Crying her eyes out on her brother's shoulder drained her on top of crying for months on end.
She didn't want to cry anymore.
After getting dressed in a flattering green long-sleeved shirt and black trousers, letting her pretty hair cascade down her back, she entered her kitchen, finding herself too tired to even eat. Skipping breakfast, a recent habit of hers, started to occur after the divorce.
Work didn't get much better seeing as six former classmates just so happened to stop by. While three of them actually purchased books, she felt like a lag on display with her neck in a guillotine. Each one of them - two Gryffindors, a Hufflepuff, and three Ravenclaws - stared at her like she suddenly sprouted the head of a deatheater out of her elbow. It drove her mad the entire time.
Thank Merlin Fleur arrived twenty minutes early, smiling her gorgeous pearly whites at both her and her boss. Realizing his one and only employee had evening plans, he allowed her to leave early, giving her a brief hug before she left. From the bookshop, Fleur whisked Ginny to every high-class store, moving from Diagon Alley to Hogsmeade to muggle London, each place having the most beautiful, as well as expensive, gowns.
It wasn't until they reached a little shop outside of the Leaky Cauldron that Fleur finally found the ideal dress for Ginny. They almost passed the shop, in their haste to head back to Diagon Alley to purchase another dress they left on hold a couple hours earlier. Ginny didn't even see it but thankfully Fleur spotted it inside of the crowd, finding the plain gown perfect for her sister-in-law.
"It just doesn't seem like the type of thing to wear to an opera," argued Ginny, staring at it pensively.
In spite of this, Fleur took no offense nor did she listen in general, stating, "Ginny, truzt me, it will look beautiful."
Relenting, Ginny quickly changed into the dress and walked out, feeling apprehensive at Fleur's smug face. At once the woman put her hands on her hips as she said, "I think my work 'ere iz finished."
Turning around, Ginny finally took in her appearance, managing a small smile. The dress of dark purple clung to every part of her body, hugging her in all the proper places. With an athletic build and skinny frame (she'd lost a significant amount of weight since the divorce), the dress accentuated her more lovely features while masking the others she didn't particularly care for. Like magic, the fact she didn't have a huge chest became minute in comparison to the rest of her beauty.
It reminded her of how she looked back when she was married to Harry - vivacious.
When Ginny saw the price tag, she tried to convince Fleur to just forget about it, that she'd find something in her own closet; that the money wasn't worth it. Giving her a sympathetic yet firm smile, she told her, "Thiz iz a gift from me and Beel. We want you to 'ave fun. Pleaze, allow us to do thiz."
After fifteen minutes, she gave in.
By the time she got home, she felt ready to collapse under the weight of her fatigue and emotions. For the life of her, she couldn't understand not only why John would want to continue with someone so emotionally unstable but why her brother felt so confident in it that he bought her an insane dress. And by insane, she meant the price - far too many galleons for the likes of her, particularly for something she only planned on wearing for one evening.
Placing the dress on the door of her closet, the swishing sound of the covered fabric taunting her for a moment, she thought about what the evening would bring. Knowing John, he'd do his best to make her feel comfortable and laid back, something she appreciated greatly. Merlin only knows she needed someone to relax her in order for her to feel at ease; to loosen up.
Ginny figured with the dress she'd need to wear her hair up, perhaps in elegant ringlets atop her head, tied with a pretty purple bow. Or maybe she'd wear it sleek and straight, pulled back into a ponytail. Whatever she did, she hoped it would make her look half as good as the dress.
She couldn't lie, even to herself - the dress, no doubt, outshines her.
Grabbing a pair of shorts and one of Harry's old shirts, something Hermione told her could do absolutely no good (but she couldn't help wear - some of them still smelled like him), she hastily changed into her comfy clothes, finding succor in consistent things; even if only with inanimate objects.
Once she left her bedroom and entered her kitchen, she made an easy dinner of a turkey sandwich and some grapes. Fleur offered a place at her and Bill's table, but she didn't feel like intruding. After being the third wheel for so many months, she just didn't feel up to it anymore.
The moment she put the butter knife into the sink, prepared to sit down at her small kitchen table, a knock sounded at the door. Being somewhat late, she assumed only family would drop by, or else very close friends. She never, for the life of her, expected to see one Harry Potter standing on her porch, eyes hopeful and sad.
Her stomach clenched painfully at the sight of him.
"Harry?"
"Hey, Gin," he replied softly, staring at her like a man trapped in a desert who spots a beautiful oasis.
Feeling her last bit of energy and strength leave at once, she brought her hands up to rub along the sallow skin of her face. As though she could feel herself turning pale, she slid her hands from her clenched jaw all the way up to her soft hair.
"Are you all right?" he asked with concern.
Shaking her head, she chocked out, "Why are you here?"
Without taking his green eyes off her, he muttered, "I've um...I've got a few things I'd like to discuss with you. Would you mind giving me a few minutes of your time?"
"Merlin, Harry, you can't keep doing this. First the wedding, then after the wedding, then Diagon Alley, and my home, and now this?"
"I'm not asking you for much time, Ginny, please. Just give me a few seconds to explain."
She knew she should just slam the door, move on, and get over him. Seeing him there, however, made it all too hard. He looked so handsome standing in her doorway, in his khaki trousers and black shirt. It brought back far too many memories for her to say no.
Stepping aside, she allowed Harry entrance into her small flat for the second time. Naturally she knew it probably would only do harm rather than good, but how could she deny the man she still fiercely loved.
There.
It was out.
She still loved him, in spite of all the heartache he caused her.
She couldn't stop and, unfortunately for her, she feared she never would. Loving Harry felt like breathing; natural and unwavering.
Despite her love for him, she refused to feel the woes of a broken heart again, she couldn't do it - she wouldn't do it. Yet here she was, allowing said man into her home, giving him another opportunity to shatter her.
Once the resounding click of the door shutting echoed in her ears, she turned around, crossing her arms over her chest, searching him for answers. She hated herself for wanting to curl into a small protective ball to shield herself from him at every glance he gave. She hated she needed to protect her heart, for he so easily won it over.
"How can I help you, Harry?" she asked in a quiet monotone.
As he shuffled from one foot to the other, she thought about their childhood together, thinking of him as the young boy he'd been in the her own nonage home. While he hadn't been as gangly as her older brother Ron, he certainly didn't have the stature of the man he'd grown into. Merlin only knows the mop of black hair clashed with each part of him, especially in the eyes of his own abysmal relatives. Ginny never thought so - on the contrary, she thought his hair inspired if only cause it made him who he was and who he'd always be. His hair, just like the scar it masked, gave him character.
Gently, he murmured, "Ron came to see me today."
"Did he?" she questioned, the wands in her head already casting spells in order to decipher why her brother would ever approach Harry.
Licking his lips, a nervous intimation, he answered, "Yes, he came by earlier, wanted to discuss a few things."
"And you're telling me why?"
Swallowing hard, he said, "We talked about you."
And there it was - the reason for Harry's presence. Tucking a few loose strands behind her right ear, she let out a noticeably loud sigh. Why did Ron approach Harry to discuss her? How often were they talking behind her back? She couldn't help feel slightly betrayed by her brother meddling with her affairs.
"Prey tell, why on earth would you talk about me?" she got out through clenched teeth.
"Ginny, it...it wasn't like that, I promise. He was more or less telling me to leave you alone...when he arrived, that is."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
Have I done anything other than ask him questions? she thought distractedly.
"It means he came over with the intention of telling me to sod off, which he did, numerous times, but ended up telling me to come here and talk to you."
"Talk to me about what?"
"Have you even spoken a statement without making it a question?" he asked with a smirk.
"Funny, I was asking myself the same thing. There you go, I did it, now answer my question."
Clearing his throat, he stated, "He told me to approach you about why I ended everything. Why...I was a bloody idiot and left you."
With her mouth in a severe line, her shallow breaths piling up one atop the other, she dropped to a seat on the couch, her eyes immediately drifting down to observe the few strands of frayed string at the bottom of her (Harry's) shirt. His heart tightened painfully at the sight of her, seeing her so small and, dare he say it, alone. He did this, and now she was paying the price for his foolishness.
"All right," she murmured, again in a monotone, "what are the reasons?"
Cracking his knuckles, a habit she used to positively deride and found she still did, he thought over the speech he'd planned. Naturally he knew to expect Ginny to remain quiet in the end so he didn't want to stumble on any words.
"Ginny, I...it didn't...fuck..."
All right, out the door. I've already bollixed this up, he berated himself in his head. Real eloquent, genius.
Starting again, "Like I told Ron, when I married you, everything worked out beautifully. We survived the war, you came back to me, and I got to spend my time living a normal, everyday life. It also became the problem."
Feeling like he needed to do something with his hands, he removed his glasses and started to clean them with his sable shirt, as he continued, "I never had a family, you know? I went from living in a house where nobody cared, where I was constantly alone, to you needing me every second."
"And what was Hogwarts? Don't you think people cared for you there?" she cried out, her Weasley temper starting to rise. "And what do you mean I needed you every second? You didn't marry a five-year-old, you egotistical prat."
First of all, her words stunned him more than anything - the last time he heard her speak with anger had been their final fight before everything went to hell and he demanded a divorce - but even more so, the resounding truth shamed him greatly.
Slipping his glasses back on, he told her, "I know, Gin. I see it now, all right? I see it and it's been killing me. Realizing I ruined my life by ridding it of the only good thing in it...I know it."
"Ruined your life?" she gasped out, her eyes burning him, unblinking in her fury. "You think this just ruined your life?"
"I know—"
"Stop telling me that you know!" she screamed, jumping to her feet, her face high in color. "Merlin, Harry, you really don't get it, do you? You think this is all about you."
Shaking her head, breath discharging in rapid pants, eyes tearing with misery and wrath, she yelled, "Harry, I get how you might think everything is about you, given your childhood history–" she spat out, like the words singed her, "–but to say you're the ruined one? No, I cannot sit here and listen to that. You know nothing about being ruined."
Turning her back on him, she walked, to his astonishment, gracefully to the closed window, opening it up to stare at the lovely view of a garden of weeds and some disposed rubbish-bags. The cool night air, however, provided her a modicum of comfort.
"After the divorce, I was a mess. I spent the first four days crying my eyes out and when I wasn't crying, I was asking myself what I did wrong. I knew it was my fault, I just didn't...know..."
Wiping her eyes with the back of her wrist, looking eleven all over again, she did her best to straighten herself out. As hard as this was, she refused to appear weak in front of him - she wouldn't do it again.
"My family initially supported me, but after you wallow for so long...well, then you're just a burden."
"That can't be true," he argued unbelievingly.
Letting out a bitter chuckle, she told him, "It's quite true. Other than Ron, my family told me to get over it after the first month. Well, until I landed in St. Mungo's."
Harry's attention completely fell on the broken girl by the window, the name 'St. Mungo's' resonating over and over, beating on his throbbing temples like a drum. Nothing ever good happens at St. Mungo's. Nothing.
Gulping, his throat miserably dry, he managed to choke out, "Why did you go to St. Mungo's?"
He literally saw her shoulders tense before she answered, "About two weeks after you left, I found out I was pregnant."
Oh no...
No, no, no...
Please, tell me I'm not that stupid...
"I didn't tell anyone at first because I didn't see the point in it. I didn't know how to raise a baby on my own. I didn't even know how to take care of myself. Once upon a time, I knew, but I didn't any longer. Realizing I had to take care of a child alone scared me to death."
"Oh Gin," he sighed, his voice the essence of pure self-loathing.
Clearing her throat, her voice dropping to a level he strained to hear, she whispered, "I hated the baby. I'm not much of a mother, I guess, because I didn't want a baby, I wanted you. I sat around thinking that maybe you'd come back, maybe you'd return, but I worried you'd hate me for the baby. Like I was trapping you into staying."
"I didn't know," he muttered, dropping his face into his sweating palms.
"I know that," she acknowledged, her voice still angel soft, "but it didn't change how I felt about the situation. I kept it hidden from everyone, even my mum, the woman who couldn't wait for her daughter to have a baby. My bitterness overshadowed me, I guess, and I um, stopped taking care of myself. I wasn't watching what I was eating or drinking. I didn't weigh myself and I didn't do any of the prenatal charms like I should have. Not to mention all the stress, it didn't help and then dealing with my family who all told me to get over it. And I remember going into my kitchen after this disastrous fight with my father, Charlie, and Bill, and I felt this pain in my stomach. It felt like three Cruciatus Curses at once. I didn't stay conscious for long and I fell and um, that's how Ron found me about an hour later."
Harry couldn't stand any longer - he dropped onto her living room chair, a favorite reading spot of hers back when it had been placed beside a window of the view from their apartment together.
"The healers said I was lucky. If Ron hadn't come by when he did, I probably would have died too. Instead I just miscarried and lost the baby, a baby I didn't even want until then. It was one thing to not want it when I was carrying it, but to lose it felt like someone crippling me. It made me realize it was the last piece of you I had left."
She choked on her own sob, leaning her forehead against the window frame, her face soaking up her salty tears. She'd been strong, holding off as best she could, but breaking down proved easier than she anticipated. The moment the first tear slid down her cheek, a plentiful amount followed...and she didn't want to stop them.
Meanwhile, Harry, absolutely reeling from the news of his dead baby, felt himself dismayed at the sound of her heart-wrenching cries. If not for the divorce, they'd be in the midst of baby preparation. While she spent the day eating and laughing and being happy, he would have been painting the nursery and joking around with Ron at the prospect of being an uncle. At night, he'd keep his hands possessively wrapped on her belly and together they'd argue over names, wondering in joyous anticipation what house the kid would end up in.
Instead she was crying, and it was all his bloody fault.
Only then did Ron's words finally click - "I told you not to hurt her and you did, physically, mentally, and emotionally."
What had he done?
Harry let her take all the time she needed, giving her plenty of space in order for her to regain her composure, at least enough to continue. After a few minutes, her sobs turned into hiccups and she rubbed her face with the back of her arm, making red strands stick crisscross on her flushed face. Rubbing her face roughly, ripping out a few strands of hair in the process, she cleaned herself up enough to finish telling her woeful tale.
"After a few days, they (-hic!-) released me. Hermione stayed with me for the following four, until I told her I (-hic!-) didn't need her help. I turned into a total bitch to (-hic!-) one of the people who actually stuck by me." Shaking her head, she ran her fingers through her hair, her thumbs getting caught near the end from all the tangles. She hopped up and down for a moment, in dire need to end the hiccup brigade. Knowing her the way he did, he could attest to the knowledge of her random bouts of hiccups, particularly after crying sessions.
Finding his own Gryffindor courage, he asked, "Are you...are you all right?"
At his question she let out a bark of laughter, the deep kind of rumbling one instantly knows pokes fun. When she ceased her cackling, she echoed, "All right? Am I all right?" Clutching her chest with her right hand, attempting to slow her breathing, she finished, "No, I'm not all right. I haven't been all right. I'll never be all right."
"That's not true. We can fix this, Ginny. I can fix this," he countered with fierce determination.
"Shut up, you can't fix shit. You're a bloody wanker for thinking you can fix anything, least of all me. I just don't even know what I'm going to do. I'm trying to move on and I can't, cause I'm too hung up on you."
"Ginny, you're not listening to me. I can fix this!"
"I heard every word you said, but you're wrong, Harry! You're wrong!"
"How am I wrong?"
"Cause I'm a ruined witch, Harry. I'm ruined."
"No," he declared, "I know you're not ruined. You're perfect, Ginny."
Again, she started to laugh that bitter laugh he didn't like. Bad news seemed to follow said laugh.
Hence; "no man will have me, Harry."
"That's not true."
"Really? Harry, as modern as we supposedly are, we haven't progressed in centuries. Witches are meant to give wizards babies and I can't do it."
"You can," he gasped out, feeling lightheaded.
"I can't," she countered, a dull resolve in her tone. "I'm barren."
And just like that, Harry's world came crumbling down.
"What?"
"I'm barren, Harry. I cannot have any children."
"No," he whispered, as though pleading with an invisible source, "you're young. You're young and fertile, you can have as many children as you want."
"Not anymore. Since I wasn't found for an hour after the miscarriage started, I just kept bleeding and bleeding to the point where the healers were forced to do anything to stop the hemorrhaging. They had to end all potentiality of me ever getting pregnant again. I'm barren, a ruined witch in our society. No man will have me if they know I can't give birth. I'm useless."
If Harry had a knife handy, he would have stabbed himself in the heart. Well, no worries, it was already breaking.
"So you see, I am ruined. No wizard will want a barren witch."
"Oh no," he breathed, feeling sick.
"I don't even want to think about how John will feel. I figure he'll call it off before we get to that point."
At her utterance of the name John, he found his jealous side taking over, like a rabid beast ready to pounce. John? She's still with that bloke? Fuck, I've got to do something. I've got to do something before I lose her altogether...
Starting Now.
"Ginny, give me a chance to make this up to you," he pleaded, green eyes sparkling with hope and desperation. "I'll give you the world, whatever you want, if you just give me a chance."
She recoiled from his words as though he'd burned her, pale face scrunching up in rage. She felt like he'd slapped her.
"What?" she ground out, her teeth clenching so tight she'd thought they'd crack from the pressure.
"I'll give you anything you want if you give me the chance," he told her, rising to his feet, dropping to his knees in front of her. "Anything you want, name it and it's yours. I'll do anything for you, Gin."
She jerked away from him, rising to her feet, her breaths coming out quicker than when they fought in the war's final battle. Harry stared up at her, questioning her sudden change in disposition (not that she'd had much of one from the start, but still–), wanting nothing more than to never see such a look on her pretty face again.
Laughing hysterically, reminding Harry for a split second of the mad-bitch Bellatrix, Ginny exclaimed, "Stop the Prophet! Harry Potter wants to give me the world! Well, let me just pack my bags, Harry, and you can whisk me away. Let me stop everything for you. Oh, wait, I already did that six fucking years ago!"
"Ginny—"
"No!" she bellowed, pacing around the room like a wild woman, "I already had what I wanted! I had you, Harry, you! Damn it, I would be a mother right now if it weren't for the divorce. All I want is to have a normal life with a man who loves me and to start a family with him. I thought I found that with you. I thought..." she broke off, her voice fading to a mere whisper, "I thought I had it all. I was wrong."
"No, Gin, you do. I'll give you—"
"Shut. Up," she hissed, looking ready to strangle him, shaking with fury. "You know nothing about what to give me. You don't even know who I am."
"I know everything about you!" he cried, still sounding defeated.
"Do you?! Do you really know? Cause as far as I can tell you don't know shit about me. You've been enjoying the freedom of being a single guy, of screwing anything in a skirt, until the novelty wore off. Well fuck you, Harry. Fuck you for coming back now that you want normalcy. Go find someone else to fawn over you, famous Harry Potter, because I'm above retreating back to you for the sake of your conscience. I can't go through this again! I can't have my heart broken."
Copious tears flew down her face, seemingly unchecked by her, as she breathed like a woman after running a mad-dash. Shaking her head, her nails creating white crescents on the inside of her palms, she admitted, "I don't care anyway. Not anymore. I'm done with the whole family thing. I won't get hurt again. Maybe, if I'm lucky, John will stick around for a while and at least I can have that. It's something."
I've ruined her.
My fault.
All my FAULT!
"Just go away, Harry," she said, completely beaten down. "Go find some other whore because I'm done being yours."
"How could y—"
"It's how you make me feel...like a cheap whore you fucked until you got tired of her. You tossed me aside, fine, but go on and find someone else. I'm done."
And just like that, he was dismissed.
A/N: Well, that was one I've been waiting to write since the beginning. Tough one, too, and I did my best to make it as real as possible, regarding the emotions. Finally Ginny stood up for herself!
Thank you to all the reviewers so far! I'm a review whore, but the fact that many of you are putting in time to write something of substance is really important to me. It means a great deal, and I appreciate it. Great reviews are the reason I'm getting little sleep and writing down story ideas in class :)
Mistake is the work of fanfiction. The characters belong to J.K. Rowling, but the featured story is mine.