a/n – posting a new chapter like two weeks later instead of 7 years, people can do hard things! Huge thanks to anyone who has taken the time to read my silly little words, it means the world to me. As of now, I'm thinking there will be one more chapter. I must've rewritten this one about four times.
Happy holidays to all! I'm enjoying some time off from work until the new year, so hoping to get a lot more writing done by then.
P.S. Would anyone be interested in listening to the playlist I made while writing this?
I want to know...
Do I dance inside your head?
Is our love star crossed?
'Cause all I feel is that I'm caught in it
I really want to go to bed
With a feeling in my chest
Like I lost again
But this time for the best
gregory and the hawk – for the best
The Burrow is silent during the late hours of Christmas Day. She feels dizzy and drunk and she wishes she could stay like this. Engulfed in her warm blanket, in a space between sleep and awareness. Unfortunately, the crash coming from downstairs startles her so she quickly throws off the covers and grabs her wand.
"There's no danger," Ginny reminds herself as she goes down the stairs.
And she's correct, there's no danger. There's only Harry Potter crawling on the floor in front of her chimney, trying to collect the empty boxes her family left after opening their gifts. First Christmas opening their presents at night because Ron had a shift during the day. First Christmas tiptoeing around the Fred-shaped emptiness. First Christmas where her parents went to bed early and the siblings and partners sat outside drinking around the fire.
"Shit," he says and manages to stand up. "I didn't mean to wake you. Wasn't expecting the boxes."
"Charlie was supposed to take care of them, but I guess he was too pissed," she explains.
He moves towards her.
"Merry Christmas," he tells her and does the sort of one-arm hug reserved only for a stranger at a pub on New Year's Eve or your distant relative who got you a crap Christmas gift.
"Merry Christmas, Harry," she responds and the hug lingers. "I thought you would be here earlier."
"I took the long watch shift," he answers and finally moves to sit on the sofa.
"Your gifts are under the tree still," she joins him on the other end.
"How are you?"
"I'm alright," she tells him, because saying she's cold and tired and wishing she could go back to bed at one in the morning instead of sitting awkwardly with her ex-boyfriend is not polite.
And because telling him that seeing him as a tangible thing and not an idea she's only allowed herself to think about during her loneliest moments is out of the question.
"Fine," he answers.
"Good for us then."
"Sorry, it's been a long day."
"Go up to your room," she tells him. "Get some sleep."
The firewhiskey must get to her, because suddenly she's laughing at how ridiculous their situation is.
"What's so funny?"
"We really need to stop meeting like this," she answers, bringing back the last night they really spoke. The subsequent days after their conversation and before he left for training were awkward at best.
There's something akin to a smile in his face.
"Ginny Weasley, are you drunk?"
"Maybe," she replies defiantly. "And what about it?"
"Kind of jealous of you."
"Well, that can be fixed," she leaves him in the sitting room and comes back holding a bottle of firewhiskey like a trophy.
"Are you up for it?" It's a challenge, not an invitation.
They end up laying on the snow outside. Warm from their coats or the alcohol or the warming charms.
"You must've seen the stars all the time growing up."
They're lying on their backs with the bottle between them. It's probably been an hour and they've only spoken about school (challenging, hard to concentrate sometimes, quidditch, and Head Girl duties take up all her time) and training (purposeful, difficult, he's treated like another new recruit and he loves it).
"Some nights Dad would bring us out after dinner and point at the constellations," she tells him. "Once my brothers started attending Hogwarts and taking Astronomy, they would teach me, too."
"Maybe I should quit," he props himself on his elbows. "Become a farmer. Then I can see the starts all the time."
"Please," she doesn't meet his eyes. "You could never quit. There are easier ways to see the stars."
She sees him nod in her periphery.
"Plus," she continues. "You would be a terrible farmer."
He lays back down and they're silent again. But this is the complicit drunk silence of friends, not the charged silence from last summer.
"I've missed you," he finally says. "I've missed this. It reminds me of Hogwarts before- "
He interrupts himself, but she knows what he means. Before Dumbledore died, before breaking up, before they stopped hanging out by the lake snogging and overanalyzing the shapes of the clouds.
She could tell him he doesn't get to miss her. Not anymore. Not after the conversation in Ron's room in June. Instead, she tells him she misses him, too.
"I thought about writing you," she confesses.
"Why didn't you?"
"Wasn't sure if you wanted to hear from me," Ginny confesses. "And I wasn't sure how it would feel to have you not reply."
"I will always reply to you."
They let the words hang between them and reach for each other's hands. Must be the firewhiskey, she thinks.
"Is Hermione here?" he asks her. Ginny thinks he's trying to be casual about the hand holding and that's more than alright with her.
"No," Ginny answers him. "Things are rocky with her parents so I think she will stay with them most of break."
"Ron must be going mad."
"Mhm."
Harry sits up to take another swig from the bottle, letting go of her hand.
"Why did you take the late shift?" she asks him.
"I…" he trails off. "I thought the recruits with families should have priority."
Her heart aches for him, it always has. He doesn't understand he does have a family. They -the Weasleys- have been his family from the moment he entered Ron's life.
"We're your family," Ginny tells him. "You should hear the way my parents speak about you. If they could, they would trade me or Ron for you."
Harry laughs and she wants to freeze the moment.
"Thank you."
"You're very welcome."
He lays back down and grasps her hand again. Ginny wants to stay there forever, but she started losing sensation of her fingers about five minutes ago when it started snowing again.
"Let's go back inside," she says sitting up.
They stumble into the Burrow together, drunk and giggly.
They reach the door and take off their coats and boots. They're so close to each other she could probably see the shadow under his eyes if it were not so dark. Here in the silence and the darkness of the kitchen Ginny can pretend they are good and real.
Before she can stop herself, she's brushing the snow off his hair.
Harry reaches for her shoulder in response. She wonders if he's going to push her away or bring her closer.
His hand travels from her shoulder to her face and his freezing hand makes her shiver.
"Are you cold?" he asks her.
She nods. She feels emboldened by the firewhiskey and the tension of not seeing each other in six months.
Before she can give him a verbal response, her father clears his throat and she realizes they're not alone.
"Mr. Weasley!" Harry says stepping away from her. "We…we were- "
"Celebrating Christmas I see," her dad points at the bottle she's still holding. "Welcome home, Harry. Let's all get to bed now, alright?"
Her father leaves them and she finally lets out the laugh she's been struggling to keep in.
"It's not funny."
"Oh, it really is," she tells him as she places the bottle on the table and heads up the stairs, leaving him in the kitchen. "Good night, Harry, and Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas, Ginny."
She wakes up when the sun is up in the sky and infiltrating her bedroom. She waits in silence and hears the sounds of the Burrow. Someone opening the bathroom sink. Someone, she thinks Ron, going down the stairs. Her mother's radio playing Christmas carols.
Ginny often thinks of how much she will miss the Burrow when she moves out next summer. If she plays her cards right, she will be moving to a flat by herself or with a roommate. And she will be playing quidditch for the Harpies. She hasn't told her family about the tryouts in the spring. Telling them would make it real and she can't afford to get excited over something that might not account to anything.
So for now, she heads for the loo in hopes to find a hangover potion and a shower.
Once done, she wears trousers and a light blue sweater gifted to her by Bill and Fleur and heads down to the kitchen.
She's met by her family cooking together and the smell of freshly baked bread.
"Ginny, help me," Mrs. Weasley tells her without turning around from her place in front of the stove.
"Why all the fuzz?" she asks Ron, Percy, and Charlie, who are sitting around the table also involved in the cooking frenzy.
"Harry is here," Ron tells her and looks at her pointedly.
"Oh yeah," she takes a sit at the table and starts folding hand towels.
"You knew?" her mother asks her.
"Yes, I heard him when he got in last night."
"Ginevra!" Her mom yells.
"What did I do?"
"You should've told me!"
"It was the middle of the night," she responds. "Besides he was tired and I welcomed him."
"Oh, I'm sure you did," Charlie snickers.
Ginny rolls her eyes and continues folding the towels. She wonders why her father didn't tell her mum about finding her and Harry last night.
"Good morning, Weasleys," her father says entering the kitchen with Harry in tow as if they had summoned them with their conversation.
Ginny realizes she feels somewhat ashamed of their chat from the night before. She wants to blame it on the firewhiskey. She knows she can only blame it on herself and what his absence has done to her. She also wonders if her father told Harry anything about the night before. It's not like he found them snogging, but it wasn't the most platonic of circumstances.
"Harry, dear!" her mom launches at him, "Merry Christmas! We are so sad you didn't make it yesterday. Your gifts are in the sitting room."
"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley."
Harry goes around the table greeting her brothers and when she reaches her, he hesitates to hug her.
"Why are you greeting Ginny?" Ron inquires with a smirk on his face. "I thought she welcomed you last night."
Charlie and Ron exchange glances while George continues focused on peeling potatoes. She wishes with all her might her would tease her too. But George doesn't tease, or prank, or makes fun of anyone anymore.
"What are you?" she telld Ron. "The greeting police?"
"Mature."
"Harry, dear," her mom says. "Help us with the turnips."
"Where were you?" she asks her father in hopes of also finding out where Harry was.
"Harry, here, accompanied me to the village to buy some muggle wine," he explains. "I think I finally have a handle on muggle money!"
Her father's wonder at muggle things warms her heart and she smiles and nods at Harry. She feels herself blush.
They continue working in silence, but every time her eyes meet Charlie's he glances at Harry suggestively, which incites her to send a stinging jinx under the table and causes her mother to threaten to make Charlie clean all the bedrooms when he curses.
With the food cooking, the Weasley siblings and Harry are finally dismissed. George and Charlie head up to their bedrooms and Ron goes to the sitting room to write to Hermione.
Harry and Ginny also head up the stairs, but she captures his hand in hers and drags him into her bedroom.
It was a spur of the moment decision and she's thankful that she made her bed and cleared her floor of dirty clothes.
He seems larger than life in her bedroom and she's transported back to his seventeenth birthday.
"Keep me company," she tells him.
"Alright," he answers.
She lays on her bed and he sits on the floor with his head resting near her knee. It's sort of awkward, but by now they have had so many moments like this, it feels almost normal.
"Did my father tell you anything?"
Ginny fears his answer. What if her father told him to stay away from her? It wouldn't really make a difference for their current situation, but it would be upsetting, nonetheless.
"So that's why you asked me to keep you company."
He sounds somewhat disappointed, or so she tells herself. She looks at him pointedly and he sighs.
"He just told me he trusts us," Harry starts. "And that no matter what happens between us, I'll always have a place in this house."
She loves her father so much.
"See?" she says, "Honorary Weasley."
He nods and looks around her room.
She must doze off because she's awakened by her mother calling them for lunch. Harry is still in the same spot, this time reading through an old Quidditch magazine.
"You didn't have to stay here."
"And miss your snoring?"
She throws a pillow at him.
"Ginny," he starts. "Can I come visit you? At Hogsmeade. During Hogsmeade weekends. Would that be alright?"
"Yes," she answers too quickly. "I would love that."
He smiles and helps her off the bed.
This is good, she thinks to herself. This could be the start of their real friendship.
Come January, he'll write her often and she will reply every time. They'll start rebuilding their friendship slowly. Harry will join Ron during Hogsmeade weekends and him and Ginny will share conspiratorial looks when Ron and Hermione go on walks by themselves and leave them alone to trail around the village.
Now, they join her -their- family for lunch. Her brothers, including George, tease them about their whereabouts and send Harry threatening looks, though she knows they're secretly happy at their burgeoning… whatever is happening between them. She feels warm and content.