Fix You
A/N: Weeeeell... A few things in this seldom read authors note today...
I have no idea what went on with the posting of the last chapter, it came for some people, and it didn't for others, and then I deleted it and reposted it, so those with alerts probably got several emails. That's also why the super quick update, in hope that it fixed it for everyone. Thanks to Goofy-Peach and Because I Need More Space for their emails letting me know that some weren't able to see it, and also for making me feel loved by that they cared. Other thanks go to reviewers Whimsey007 and merliedog for making me feel like that my attempt to write something in depth is working, and for being able to latch onto my bigger picture. It's the biggest compliment (or at least I take it as one)!
I'm loving that people are siding with one or the other, at the start it was Ginny and now everyone seems to be against her. That was exactly what I wanted from this.
Something I didn't really want was for people to be so critical on Ron and Hermione's part in this story, and now I'm realising that I haven't really given them the screen time they need to properly explain their part in this, something that I have tried to amend in this chapter, even though the next two were planned by me to just be H/G. To me, this story is largely about a couple of main things: the inability to escape the past, what love can do to a person, and the limits of friendship, or as I like to call it, the downfall of the trio. No, don't worry yet, hopefully you will all see what I mean by this by the end. Speaking of which, I would say five or so chapters, in case anyone is wondering. It won't drag on forever.
To answer one question about the story, spoiling the ending slightly (so don't read this if you don't want to know something that you probably already do,) yes, Harry and Ginny will get back together. Just not yet. As I said, you probably already knew that, what sort of good H/G story would it be without the cute mushy fluff? The fun of this is in the ride, and progress is being made for H/G. You'll see it for sure by the end of this chapter, enjoy the slight cliffiness!
Chapter Eight – Confrontational Realisations
February 2nd, 2002
Harry swilled his drink, watching the ice spin in the amber liquid happily. He scowled down at it before tipping the rest down his throat and stumbling over to the bar for another. It was a Thursday afternoon, perhaps night by now, and Harry was sitting by himself in a lonely, dark corner of the Leaky Cauldron, wallowing in his self pity. Ron and Hermione had both left the previous week for their respective parent's houses, staying up until their wedding. Since his fight with Ginny, which was now not just a row, it was the row, they had both tried to interfere and stay out of it at the same time. Harry had struggled through the past three weeks holed up, drinking more than Mundungus Fletcher did in a year, not showering, barely eating, never leaving the flat, leaving his room only to lay in a stupor in front of the television. Ron and Hermione had watched this silently, both not knowing what to do or say, something which had bothered Hermione greatly.
"We need to help him, Ron," Hermione cried as Harry stumbled into the lounge from his room one afternoon, looking like death walking, waving peculiarly at them before collapsing onto the couch, snoring loudly, his hand clasped around a bottle half concealed by his jacket; a futile attempt to hide the truth.
"I don't think that we can," Ron admitted to her. "He needs Ginny's help now, I hate to say it. And I have a feeling that she will need his. It's not likely to be soon since the row, but we just have to give them the time to pull their fingers out."
"Ron," Hermione said, fixing him with a steely glare. "He's hurting himself. We have to try stop him behaving like this, we can't just sit around watching Harry waste away."
"I think we have to," Ron said. "You know him; he's not going to talk to us about all this nonsense with my sister. We just have to let them be for a bit longer. Just until the wedding, so they have a little time to work the basics out. And if they don't by then, I say that we all step in."
"Ron," Hermione had exclaimed heatedly. "By the wedding, he's not going to be okay. We need to help him now. We both know they are far better together than apart, and us trying to manipulate them into a relationship isn't going to work; they're both far too stubborn and hurt. They may not know what's best for them, but we do, and we need to help Harry to make up with Ginny. In someway or another, we need to help them."
"Hermione," Ron told her plainly. "We are helping them. It's not going to work with us force-feeding them everything. They just have to figure their problems out by themselves now. We can't make it better for them anymore."
"At least talk to Harry," Hermione persisted.
"He won't listen," Ron reminded her sadly. "Neither will Ginny. We've tried that already."
They had tried that. The day after the row, after things had calmed down considerably, Hermione had chased down Ginny, who had completely cut Hermione off when she tried to bring up Harry. Ron had been after Harry, who he found in his room, laying apathetically as Ron tried to talk to him, ending with it as Ron talking at him. Like Ginny, Harry hadn't been open for conversation about his previously prospective significant other. He hadn't been open for conversation about anything, pretty much ignoring Ron. When Hermione had returned home, she had also tried to talk to Harry, with no avail. They had both left for their parents' homes the next week unwillingly, but as Ron had reminded Hermione, it wasn't their place to work this out; it wasn't their place to look after Harry anymore; he and Ginny had to work it out for themselves.
So now Harry sat by himself in the back corner of a bar on a Thursday night, the first time he had left the house for weeks, but feeling the need to celebrate Ron and Hermione's leaving, letting him be by himself for what felt like the first time ever. Also, he had cleared out the alcohol supply, a considerable effort considering that after Voldemort's defeat, every man and his kneazle had wanted to buy Harry, Ron and Hermione a drink, so many people had done just that. Ron had then ensured that it was all tested for any trace of poison.
Drowning in his sorrows, Harry looked miserably around the bar, wondering how many of these wizards Ginny knew. Or how many she didn't know; perhaps that was easier to count. The two old men at the bar glanced in his direction, sourly complaining about "those delinquents always coming in here causing a ruckus, leaving the old drinking hole a mess". Harry snorted into his drink, wondering if they would still call him a delinquent if they knew who he was.
Famous Harry sodding wanker Potter. He hated his own name and what it stood for. He was slowly coming to realisations about some things, realisations about life without a Dark Lord looming overhead. He had had thoughts, even expectations of what his life would be like if he had survived the war. He had been let down, and not gently at that.
First off, he had imagined a very different situation with Ginny. A short argument, a little bit of anger from her end, with her then coming around, realising that she was just happy that he had survived and they were given a second chance. Things hadn't really played out that way, obviously, he thought as he signalled for another drink. Part of him was glad; no one could ever possibly imagine that from Ginny and to expect her too was an insult.
Another thing was this whole fame thing that he had going on. Harry had done everything that he had to do in the war. He had lost it all, his parents, the closest thing to, his mentor, his childhood, apparently now the girl he loved and, something that to some seemed nothing, but to him was everything, all sense of normality in his life. He had hoped that people would let him go after the war, that he could stop being a hero, people wouldn't expect him to have to save the world. But according to last weeks Witch Weekly, he was the most influential person for 2002 (for the third running), pulling up ahead of Scrimgeour, the national Quidditch coach and the editor of the Daily Prophet. He had noted with a snide laugh that Ron and Hermione shared equal 5th and 6th, just ahead of the bassist from the Weird Sisters. Ron's wish from when he had innocently stood in front of the golden mirror of Erised had been answered. He stood above all the brothers; something that he was also realising was not all that it had cracked up to be. He and Hermione couldn't even walk through Diagon Ally anymore without being pulled up and asked for photos. People just wouldn't leave them alone, just as they wouldn't leave Harry be.
The people everywhere just expected too much from him. A smooth transition from childhood miracle to teenage wonder to the man who saved the world, then to fall into a job he knew nothing about and a life in the spotlight; always remembered simply as The Boy Who Lived once upon a time but now did this. Couldn't they just leave him alone? Now reporting what had began as nonsense about him, but then printing what he was slowly coming to terms with what was true, his troubles, worries and life over breakfast. They still hadn't dropped that Hunting Harry thing.
So what if he didn't have a job. It was the silver lining to losing everyone close to you, never having to work unless you wanted to. There was nothing he wanted to do anyway. The things he had wanted in the past now came with strings attached. What was he meant to do, become and Auror and just bow down to the Ministry's wishes, to be their golden boy? Spend his life ridding the world of problems when he couldn't get over his own? Or perhaps Quidditch. The perfect transition, one sort of hero to another. People would rally around him; teams would want him simply for being Harry Potter. Kids would run around in English playing jerseys with Potter printed on the back. He would be worshipped for things that didn't deserve it; those kids would barely have an inkling about anything. They would never understand what it all really meant for him, the implications that the war and all the death and pain had had on his life. It was for keeps. If he lost a game, big deal, they'd win the next. It didn't apply to real life. People would take that as their happy ending; the hero wins the battle and becomes a sports star. It was a lie, no happy ending at all, not for his parents; not for Sirius or Dumbledore. Cedric would be twenty-three, maybe twenty-four by now. Was it a happy ending for him? Would all those people who had died, or the people whose lives had been torn apart get a next time? No.
Harry shook of these depressing thoughts off with a drink and calling for another. It didn't matter. Nothing would feel right without Ginny anyway.
And, as if it were cued, there she was.
He glanced at the bar door as the bar witch poured him another glass. The door opened and a bunch of wizards and witches around his age walked in, and Harry vaguely recognised some from Hogwarts. She was with them, looking slightly pained, only putting on her happy face when spoken to. One of the wizards had a muggle jacket thrown over Healers robes; she must be going out with friends from work. He snorted at the ridiculously predictable melodrama of it all; it could only ever happen to him. She sat down, and her eyes flicked around the bar, and she spotted his corner, knowing it was him immediately. It was always him, and she didn't know how long she could stand it anymore.
As he looked at her, he knew he couldn't stand it anymore. He'd dwelled long enough. As he swallowed his drink and threw down a couple of galleons on the table, only one thing was running through his head.
It was time to act.
How was the problem.
February 3rd, 2002
"Harry?" Ron's head called from the fire the next morning, waking Harry from his spot on the couch. Harry jumped at the sudden noise, and promptly fell off the couch.
"Wassamatter?" Harry asked, groping his pocket for his wand.
"It's okay, mate," Ron smirked. "Very graceful by the way."
Harry rolled his eyes at his friend.
"How's your parents place?" Harry yawned, moving from his spot on the floor to one closer to the fireplace.
"Yeah, good," Ron said distractedly. "Mum keeps bursting into tears."
"Oh, you've grown up so quickly little Ronnikins," Harry said, putting on Mrs Weasley's voice.
"Yeah, something like that," Ron grinned. "What are you doing today?"
"What I normally do," Harry told him. "Nothing."
"We were hoping that," Ron told him. "You're coming to Diagon Ally with us because Hermione says that you haven't got your suit fitted yet or something. Why we are having a muggle wedding is beyond me, but if that's what she wants-"
"You do it. If that's what Hermione wants, you do it." Harry smiled. "Look, I dunno about Diagon Ally, um-"
He was saved making up a rushed excuse by Ron reading his mind.
"Ginny won't be there, Hermione says she's working." Ron told him hurriedly and Harry's face rose a little. "Just us three. C'mon, we'll go visit Fred and George or something after."
"Er, okay," Harry said, thinking he had to get this suit done as some stage.
"What are you three doing here?" Fred asked later that day as Ron and Hermione walked in hand in hand, Harry dragging his feet behind.
"Hey," Harry mumbled, looking around the near empty shop. "It's been ages since I've been here." He started looking over the shelves carelessly, examining the new products.
"We were getting their suits for the wedding fitted," Hermione told the twins. "Remember, it's muggle attire so that my family doesn't get overly agitated."
"Dad's going to be shocking," George shook his head.
"Probably," Ron grinned, still holding his fiancées hand. "At least he doesn't make a speech."
"Who does them?" Fred asked.
"Us, Harry, Dad," Ron told him. "Some muggle thing, Best Man and Father of the Bride get to."
"Have you done yours yet?" Hermione called over the shelves to Harry who was currently looking at a box entitled 'Lumos-escent lights; for where you can't put your wand'.
"What, my speech? Not yet," Harry said and Hermione looked at him reproachfully.
"You had better say some nice things, Harry," She told him.
"Oh, I know what I'm going to say," Harry told her. "Just haven't worked it all out yet. But don't worry," He added as Hermione glared at him. "I promise it will be nice."
"Disappointed in you," George told him, and Harry rolled his eyes and grinned.
"I didn't say it wouldn't be amusing," Harry told him. "It'll be the best speech ever once I'm through with it. Just remember what you said on Christmas," Harry told Hermione.
"What did I say?" She asked him as Ron examined the latest versions of the Canary Creams.
"That I like making over-impassioned speeches or something," Harry told her. "Now I just have to get you guys a present."
"Us too," George told him. "Honestly, what would you two like anyway? A book on Quidditch?"
"Thanks for the idea," Harry laughed, picking up a box of 'Kidnapping Cufflinks; handcuffs when you need them' as Fred rolled his eyes. Harry examined the box he was holding for a moment before a glimpse of an idea popped into his head. It was mildly illegal, but it could just help solve his problems with Ginny. "Um, look, I think I should go," Harry went on suddenly. "So, er, I'll see you all soonish." He rushed to the door.
"Harry Potter?" Ron, Hermione, Fred and George heard a young female voice ask as Harry stepped outside the shop. "Look everyone, it's Harry Potter!"
"Are you drunk at the moment? I heard that's what you do these days."
"Can I have an autograph?"
"Poor kid," George said affectionately as they watched through the shop window as Harry struggled through the people who had flocked to him at his name.
"I'm surprised that he hasn't just apparated away," Hermione said as Harry fell out of their gaze and mixed into the mostly female crowd.
"He'll realise that he could have done that just after he's got away from them," Ron scoffed.
"I'm just surprised that the paper still hasn't found out where you lot are living yet," Fred laughed.
"Technically, the flat is owned by a muggle named James Black," Hermione told the twins. "So they hopefully shouldn't be able to track us down, and this way we don't have to worry about any secrecy charms or anything.
"Her idea of course," Ron pointed out, kissing Hermione's cheek.
"Well, aren't you two the cutest thing since Pygmy Puffs," Fred said in a baby voice. "How long 'til the big day now?"
"Er," Ron said, unsure, "the 26th?"
"23 days," Hermione told them with a pointed look at Ron.
"At least he knows the day," George told Hermione. "Mum's birthday is a completely different issue."
"Harry seemed good," Fred said after a moment of staring out the window as passersby returned to their shopping; Harry must have disappeared.
"Today he is," Ron said. "He's probably just happy that we've left him alone. He was a complete mess when we were still there. Never left the flat."
"Maybe Ginny went to see him," Hermione pondered.
"They've made up?" The three brothers questioned at once, staring at Hermione as if she had all the answers.
"Honestly, how would I know?" Hermione shook her heads at them. "They wouldn't tell me. If they had, it would explain the not horrible mood, but I'm sure that if they had he would be ridiculously happy."
"Maybe he's just found a way into tricking her into talking to him," George said.
"More likely," his twin replied. "Have either of you two seen Ginny anyway? We haven't seen her since the row."
"Yeah, she came home for lunch with Mum last week," Ron told them. "She seems fine, even when Mum wasn't in the room she was alright. I tried to bring up Harry and she ignored me, but otherwise..." He trailed off.
"I'd expect her to be worse than he is," Fred said. "What with all that stuff she was saying about how he left her abandoned and stuff."
"Maybe she's just better at hiding it," George said.
"Or she might have found another way to cope," Hermione said.
"Like what?" Ron asked her.
"No idea."
"Whatever's going on with them, we're still telling everyone everything at the wedding," Fred said. "Either they work it out before then or everyone forces them to work it out after."
February 4th, 2002
Harry knew what he was doing now. He had been struck with the idea the day before at Fred and George's shop and had spent the past day getting it ready. It was all set. He knew what he would need to do to get Ginny back. Or more like what he needed to do to get her to just hear him out with everything that he had to say, a way to sit her down and tell her everything he could to try and make her just see where he was coming from. If all went to plan, he would be a happy man. However, as it was Ginny, he didn't expect it to go to plan at all. Now he just had to find her.
She'd turn up.
Harry looked around the bar he was in. She always came here on Saturdays, one of the things he had noticed about her since New Years Eve. She had her routines, arriving at a bit before nine, leaving at any time between twelve and three, normally one on the dot if she was leaving with someone, which Harry thought had been the case more often than not. However, she was going to be leaving a lot earlier tonight, and she didn't get a say in that. Harry checked his watch, seeing that it was a bit past eight-thirty. She would be here anytime now. He headed over to the bar for a drink to calm his nerves, then walking to over near the toilets, a place where he could see the door, but the people coming in were not likely to notice him.
Now it was a waiting game. She would come in a bit before nine.
And she did, as if it were clockworks. At a time that Harry noticed by a glance at his watch was exactly ten to nine, the bar door opened and Padma Patil entered, followed by her twin Pavarti, Ginny and then Lavender Brown. Plan Kidnap Ginny Weasley was now in motion.
Harry downed the rest of his drink, putting his glass down on a nearby table, skirting around where some people were playing snooker and approaching where the four girls had taken seats by the bar. As he neared them, he heard Pavarti ordering drinks and Ginny speaking to them.
"-Well, I'm busy working the next two weekends, and of course it's Ron and Hermione's wedding the weekend after that which is exciting I guess," Ginny was saying to the girls.
"Ha, I'm not going," Lavender told her as Pavarti handed her a drink. "As if. Hermione hates me."
"C'mon, she doesn't hate you, and besides, you shared a dorm room with her for six years," Ginny scolded her. "You were invited, you RSVP'ed, you have to come. Plus, you have to help save me from my family and-"
"The Best Man?" Pavarti said, seeing Harry approaching them over Ginny's shoulder. Ginny huffed and nodded at this, sipping her drink.
"Speaking of him, Hi Harry, we figured we'd be seeing you soon" Lavender told him, also noticing over Ginny's shoulder.
"What?" Ginny spun around and saw Harry, steely faced standing behind her. He gripped her upper arm tightly and began dragging her towards the door.
"Harry?" Pavarti asked loudly as he ignored them.
"What... what are you doing?" Ginny whispered to him, clearly alarmed as he dragged her to the door. "Let go of me, what do you think you're doing?" He was gripping her arm tightly, but that wasn't what was making her skin tingle.
"Don't cause a scene," He told her serenely as she struggled against his grip.
"Let go of me," She demanded huffily as Harry pulled her out the door and out into the cool night air. "I have no idea what you think you're doing, but you are going to let me go right now."
Swallowing and ignoring this, Harry gripped her arm tighter, and with a neat pop apparated them both to his flat.
"Honestly, Potter," She growled as they arrived in the dark kitchen. He frog marched her like this over to the couch and he then let go of her. She fell to the couch unceremoniously, massaging where Harry had been holding her. Quickly pulling his wand out of his pocket, he waved it a few times. Ginny got up, glared at him for a moment, and then spun on the spot, clearly trying to apparate. She pulled out her own wand when this happened.
"Really, what are you trying to do?" She demanded him, pointing her wand. She marched over to the door, grabbed the handle and twisted, to no avail.
"Alohamora," She said, flicking her wand at the door. She then twisted again, getting the same results. He took his coat off, laying it over the back of the couch.
"Unlock the door," She told him, pointing her wand straight at Harry's face, half-visible in the moonlight. He just looked at her.
He had planned for this. He had locked all the doors and windows, prepared the anti-apparition jinxes, locked up the brooms and floo powder, cast silencing charms so the neighbours would know nothing, and told the owls only to take letters from him until he said so. She was trapped. He had planned for this, and now he didn't know what to say as she stood stuck in his flat, beautifully angry, illuminated by the moon and hating him.
"Let me out!" She yelled at him. "Unlock the door now, Harry." She jumped up on the couch, holding her wand against his face, looking up at him furiously. She stared him down as he took a few steps backwards, making a distance between them.
"Do it, Harry, you know what my bat bogey's are like," She yelled again. "UNLOCK THE DOOR!" As she was about to shout the incantation at him, she felt her wand fly out of her hand; it flew in a perfect arch and he caught it, pocketing it. She got up again, this time running into Ron's room, looking to see if he had left his broom there. He hadn't. Needlessly, she ran back out and tugged on the windows around the flat, knowing she was too high to be able to get out anyway. She heaved, knowing that it was useless, but not wanting to face him, knowing she was stuck here with him. She gave one final tug before spinning on the spot and facing him.
"What do you want from me?" She asked calmly, with only a slight quiver in her voice. "What do you want?" He said nothing, just staring at her, his face unreadable.
"What do you want?" She half yelled and took a step closer to him. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?" She stormed up to him and made a feeble swipe for his wand. He pulled it out of her reach easily, stepping back from her.
"WHAT DO YOU WANT?" She screamed, stepping back up to him, giving him a hard shove in the shoulder, fists flailing at him. He copped it for a moment before seizing her by the wrists, blocking her attempt to knee him in the groin with his own leg and forced her backwards and back onto the couch. Harry stepped back from her, visibly shaking but not saying anything. He looked down at her; slightly scared. He didn't know what to say to her now; everything that he had intended to tell her had escaped his head. He opened his mouth, but then closed it, his voice failing on him.
"Oh," She said, coming to an ugly realisation. It was sickening, but she realised that it fitted. "Oh. I know what you want." She stood up and shrugged off her jacket, sliding her boots off too. "I know what you want. I know exactly what you want, and it's exactly the same thing that you wanted from me four and a half years ago." She pulled her jumper over her head, leaving her standing in jeans and a little white singlet.
"Well?" She asked him after a moment of silence. "It's what you want, isn't it?" He looked at her, gaping like a fish again. "I know exactly what you're thinking, 'Ginny's turned into a slut, hmm, that gives me an idea or two'." She slid off her jeans, the goose bumps on her arms and legs catching in the moonlight.
"This is exactly what you want, isn't it, Harry," She told him, staring at him as quivered in front of her. "Isn't it?" He stood stoically, staring down at her face.
"C'mon, you can talk you know," She spat at him, the back of her throat seizing up uncomfortably. "Speak up, just do what you want. I promise I won't tell Ron." She snorted at this thought. "Like he'd listen to me over you, anyway. My entire family loves you; they'd think you were a champ right now."
"G- G- Ginny," He muttered, unable to tear his eyes away from hers.
"Geez, Harry," She spat at him, tears streaming down her face now. "Didn't take you this long last time," She pulled off her singlet, standing in front of him in only her underwear. "What are you waiting for?" She stormed up to him, attacking the buttons on his shirt, kissing his neck and chest blindly as she began working it off. He resisted slightly, unable to fight her, just staring at her.
"This is the only reason why you ever liked me anyway, isn't it?" She asked him, her voice catching in her throat painfully as began working on his belt. "Because you wanted something. Well, ha ha, you tricked me into thinking that you actually liked me, good job Harry, what an achievement."
"D- Don't," He told her, seizing her hands as she flung his belt to the floor and lowered herself harshly to her knees as her hands groped him through his jeans.
"Oh," She sobbed at him, her face shining. "Just want to screw me and get it over with. Well, if it's what you want Harry. You get whatever you want, don't you, because you saved the world and all the rest of that. So now everyone does what you say because you're a freaking hero. So go on then" She attempted to pull his shirt off his back, but he stopped her. He leaned over and grabbed his coat off the couch. He pulled her arms through the holes as if he were dressing a small child as she sobbed and sniffed. He did up the buttons carefully and manoeuvred her into a sitting position on the couch. She seized a pillow, gripping it tightly in an attempt to stop her tears.
"What?" She shuddered. "Feeling guilty? Have you only just realised that you ruined my life or something?" He did up the buttons on his own shirt shakily. "Or what, feel like you're taking the cheap way out? Feel like you need to earn it or something?"
He stood in front of her, not meeting her eyes, but his jaw set, his face firm.
"Gin," he began wearily.
"What now?" She asked him pathetically. "Oh, let me guess, you're gay or something?"
He looked up at the roof, one million and one things running through his head. Was this what he had really reduced her too? She had none of that fighting spirit she once had. Broken and defeated, she hiccoughed up at him, eyes bloodshot and sniffling, breaking his heart in a way he never realised that she could.
"What do you want?" She asked him one final, miserable time. "If not that, what do you want from me?"
He looked around the moonlight flat, terrified, finally stuttering out something, and shocking not only her but himself too.
"Ginny," He said hoarsely. "Would you marry me?"
A/N: So hmm, we like a bit of that? Reviews appreciated to the nth degree. This is, I have to say, my favourite chapter so far. However, next chapter is THE chapter for this fic, so it may take longer than it should with me on holidays, because even though half written, I NEED to get it absolutely perfect.