Chapter Five:

To Have Enough Nerve

Ginny sat in front of Fred's grave, her legs crossed beneath her, thinking.

It had been a month since the Battle of Hogwarts. A month since Fred had died. Well over a month since anyone had heard from Andromeda or, for that matter, Teddy.

It had been a month full of grief and reconciliation. A month full of both the most incredible pain she'd ever experienced and the greatest highs.

She was content, at the moment. Not happy, but content. There was one thing bubbling under the surface that none had picked up on. Fleur could pull the veela powers card all she liked, but no one knew what was really bothering Ginny every day of every week of the past month.

The magical connection between her and Harry never escaped her mind. The strain of keeping him out of her head was exhausting. She'd be fully asleep the second her head hit the pillow in the early evening practically every day. Harry was the same. She knew Hermione had noticed, and by extent, Ron.

They didn't know about the connection, but they did notice the two of them falling asleep incredibly early and waking up far too late. Then there was the near total silence that permeated from the two of them. After weeks of blocking each other out, it seemed the bond was feeling frustrated at being ignored for so long.

"What do you think I should do?" Ginny asked to the grave in front of her. It was a silly question for a multitude of reasons. For one thing, Fred couldn't hear her. That was the most important. For another, she'd never have gone to the twins for emotional advice. Ever.

She sighed and covered her face with her hands. It was a beautiful afternoon. Nothing but the sun and the clear blue sky.

Ron and Hermione could be heard by the pond. Hermione was laughing at something Ron had said. It was all very surreal.

She felt like she was trapped in a cage with nothing but a miniature slit for a window. She had a tiny view of what was on the other side, but the rest of it was a complete mystery. It looked appealing from her angle, but that was an incredibly narrow view of the thing.

She and Harry hadn't talked or spent much time together over the past few weeks. He kept to himself, for the most part. He'd received countless letters, but he didn't respond to any of them. Only opened the occasional note from someone he actually knew.

The Ministry seemed keen on getting his attention. The Death Eater trials were to begin soon, but it seemed Harry only cared to speak at a few of them. Umbridge, Draco, and Narcissa Malfoy were the three he'd publicly requested. This had immediately leaked to the press, which was once again hyper-focused on him.

She knew he wouldn't say it, but the constant spotlight was draining, even if he hadn't gone out in public since the battle. He hadn't attended any funerals, not that he'd been invited to many.

So, Harry spent his days in Ron's room, presumably reading. Ginny had overheard Ron telling Hermione that Harry had taken up journaling. An odd thing to do, all things considered, but she approved so long as his thoughts were getting out somehow.

These were all things she'd noticed herself. Because the alternative to watching Harry was paying attention to how she felt about everything that was happening deep within her. Both magically and emotionally, she was torn.

Harry was a wonderful human being. Bright, funny, endearing, charismatic, handsome… every positive adjective in the book she'd find a way to relate back to Harry.

Only now, letting him in, and in contrast, him letting her in, was a far more impactful decision.

The bond was seemingly permanent. They'd barely interacted since the Dursley's, and the bond hadn't gone away. If anything, the draw to each other was stronger than ever. If they passed one another in the stairwell, or in the kitchen, she had to fight the physical urge to reach out and touch him. She could see it written on his face that the same feelings were affecting him.

So, what would happen if they continued to prevent its creation? Would they have to move miles away from one another? Would they ever be able to escape it?

Even more terrifying was the thought that if they let the bond form properly. Not this single magical bridge between souls, but a complete binding of their magic and minds. Could they live like that forever?

Could they love each other so completely that years would go by and it would never waver?

Even if that were the case, she still felt like her choice had been taken from her. Her right to choose who she could marry, date, or snog was entirely gone.

She didn't want to throw that all away. She was sixteen, and no matter how mature her magic was, she was so young.

She was so young.

Plenty of people had found their husbands by the time they were sixteen though, right? Harry's parents had to. They were only twenty-one when they died. It would have been a pity to have lost so much time.

"… Could have had more time. Months… years even…" Harry's words from a year ago materialized in her memory.

Ginny stood up from the ground, appreciating Fred's grave for a moment before making her way back toward The Burrow. She needed to talk to someone and although maybe, in another world, she'd have spoken to Hermione first, she felt like her mother ought to hear it ahead of her friends.

She stepped into the kitchen and noticed everything had been cleaned. Although her mother was, in general, a lot better, she still didn't leave her room much during the day. In the evenings, she cooked and socialized just fine. It was nice to see her trying.

Ginny climbed the steps to her parents' room and knocked three times. There, she had locked herself in on at least speaking to her mother. If she hadn't knocked, she'd have chickened out.

"Come in," her mother called from within. Ginny took a deep breath and pushed the door open.

Her mother was sitting up in bed, resting against the headboard. She had a small paperback in her hand and her reading glasses were sliding off her nose.

"Ginny," she greeted, seemingly surprised by her arrival. "How are you?"

Ginny shrugged, closing the door behind her and climbing onto her parents' bed. She chose to lie on her father's side. "I'm alright,"

Her mum nodded in agreement, setting her book down. "What have you come to talk to me about?"

Ginny ran her tongue along her teeth, deep in thought. She was compelled to jump straight into everything, but she was notorious for keeping secrets from her parents, whether intentionally or not, so she had to ease into it.

"How did you know dad was the one?"

Her mum smiled and brought a hand down to Ginny's head, massaging her scalp. She closed her eyes in silent gratitude.

"I met your father when he was very young, you see," she began wistfully. It was a weird tone to start on. "I didn't pay much attention to him. He was very much like Percy at that time. By the books and incredibly polite,"

Ginny pursed her lips. Percy wasn't exactly polite, but alright.

"He claims he fell in love with me the moment he laid eyes on me but we both know it wasn't until the fifth year that he felt anything for me. Of course, I took a while longer to catch on,"

"How much longer?" Ginny asked, interrupting her mother's story. She'd heard of all this before, of course. She just needed more detail.

Her mum cocked her head from side to side, thinking. "He wasn't what I'd have considered my type. So, I sort of brushed him off for years."

Ginny wished she could have seen what her mum was like while at Hogwarts. Every time she heard stories about her it was like opening a horrible yet fascinating romance novel.

"He asked me out, I sort of had my eyes on another boy and I was looking to make him jealous, so I said yes," Ginny's mum seemed uncomfortable admitting that tidbit. "Then… the more time we spent together, the more I listened to him talk, the more I found myself thinking of Arthur Weasley.

"In the end, I forgot all about the other boy. I truly don't remember his name. Your father had captured my heart in his hands and just… Well, there was no getting out of it. I couldn't have, even if I wanted to. Which, of course, I didn't,"

"How did you know he was the one, though?" Ginny asked, repeating her question from earlier.

Her mother dawned a contemplative look. "It isn't really a knowing thing. I'm sure there were many 'ones' I could have settled down with, but I loved your father, and he loved me. True love doesn't waver, Ginny,"

"Then… how can you tell if it's real," Ginny pestered, sounding irritated.

Her mum stared unseeingly at the wall opposite, deep in thought. Ginny watched her lips quirk ever so slightly upward. Every second, the smile grew a little bit more. A lone tear slipped from her eyes and cascaded down her cheek. "It's when you love someone, Ginny," she said, pulling herself out of her reverie. "It's as simple and as complicated as that,"

Ginny rolled onto her back and looked up at the ceiling. "Do you sometimes wish…" she paused and bit the inside of her cheek, gathering all of her confidence to continue this conversation. "Do you sometimes wish that you were older and more… comfortable before falling in love?"

"No, I don't think so," her mother said after a prolonged silence.

"Why?"

She turned to her daughter and spoke in a way that resembled that of someone revealing some great secret, "Because I got to spend even more time with him. I've had bad days, sure. There have been times when I've wondered if it was actually worth it. If my choices had been the right ones… but in the end, I got to love and be loved and that's all a person will ever need."

Ginny sighed and continued to look up. She thought of all the times in her earlier Hogwarts years when she shared a personal moment with Harry. That rush of overwhelming emotions, the butterflies in the pit of her stomach and even in the front of her head. The excitement of being spoken to and having made him laugh. How comfortable she felt in his presence once she'd finally calmed down around him. The rush of satisfaction at having made him laugh or earned a shared look while Ron and Hermione bickered. She thought of the times in her fifth year when she'd catch Harry looking at her with that same overjoyed glee she'd had as a second or third year. How he'd constantly come to her and make excuses to talk to her even though he was quite literally missing classes for it.

She thought of how that made her feel. Harry would sit with her in the library and follow her around looking for books. Making every attempt at starting a conversation even if he thought he was subtle.

How as the year progressed, feelings she'd come to acknowledge as normal, even boring, was just the fact that she was comfortable with Harry. The minute she accepted that, that comfort turned into flurries of attraction and giddiness. That comfort turned into the best feeling in the world. Like a blanket being wrapped around you after getting in from the snow. Or, sitting in the sun for days on end.

Then, she'd caught the snitch in that final match. She'd been standing by the fire, talking to Dean and Demelza. She was waiting for Harry to come back from his detention. She wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around him, and maybe then he'd clue into her feelings, and maybe even his own if he hadn't realized already.

Of course, Harry had surprised her yet again. She ran towards him with determination burning within her, only for him to wrap his arms around her, pull her in by the waist, and kiss her in front of the entire house.

Her eyes had remained open in shock for maybe a second before she kissed him back. She could remember the smell of the room. The deafening silence of the occupants. The light buzz in her ears as all thoughts left her mind. What replaced it was a wonderful warm sense of rightness in her chest.

Harry was right. That is what she learned that day.

"I think I'm supposed to be in love," Ginny whispered, seemingly to herself.

Her mum chuckled quietly. "And who are you supposed to be in love with?"

Ginny sat up and turned to face her mother. "Surely you know?"

"I most surely do not know," she confessed with a smile. "No one keeps me updated, and you don't share your feelings very often,"

"I do so!" Ginny defended.

Her mum raised an eyebrow. "This conversation is a first, Ginny,"

Ginny closed her eyes and scooted back, so she was leaning against the headboard as well. She brought her knees up to her chest and rested her chin on them. "It's Harry,"

Her mum remained silent.

"I think I'm supposed to be in love with Harry, and it terrifies me," she continued, now feeling the need to elaborate. "Like… yes, I look at him and I feel… good. Really good. I like making him laugh and I like when he makes me laugh. He can… smile and it's like… like the sun has come out for the first time in months. He's remarkable and talented and handsome… fuck he's attractive," she brought her hands to her face and groaned. "I can imagine my whole life with him. I can even imagine having kids with him and you know how I feel about kids. I hate them."

Her mum laughed at that.

Ginny dropped her arms from her face as she started speaking with more confidence. "And you know what? I've liked him for years. The second he asked me if I wanted to play a round of exploding snap after the Chamber incident, I felt it. I basically told him that after we broke up,"

"You and Harry went out?"

"Don't act so oblivious I know you knew about that one," Ginny accused in temporary frustration.

Her mum threw her head back and laughed at Ginny's tone. She was mildly frustrated that her mother wasn't taking this seriously.

"But I don't want to be in love with him. Not now," Ginny admitted, once again tucking her knees to her chest.

"How come?"

Ginny shrugged, feeling tears press at the back of her eyes. She just wasn't ready to love. She hadn't fucked up and learned from her mistakes. She hadn't gone on her own, lived her life, and figured out who she was. She hadn't done anything yet.

She felt trapped.

"Ginny," her mother crooned, reaching towards her daughter and wiping the tears out of her eyes. She held her face in her hands and tilted it up, so their eyes met. "No one is ever ready for love. You don't have anything to prove,"

"I know but I feel like I have to," Ginny whimpered, limply tossing her hand to the sheets.

"Sweetheart, you've been keeping all this so close to your chest! No wonder you're overthinking it,"

"I'm not overthinking it," Ginny complained, pulling out of her mother's reach. "I'm only thinking about it,"

"Are you worried that Harry might not love you back?"

Ginny swallowed. She hadn't thought of that. "No. I don't worry about that,"

"Then… you did hear what I said about your father, right?"

Ginny nodded.

"I fell in love with your father. You and Harry just… might not have gotten the chance to,"

"It's the chance that scares me, mum," Ginny whispered. "I just… I don't know,"

"You need to let some of this out," her mother said softly. "Have you talked to Hermione?"

Ginny shook her head.

"Good," her mum nodded.

"How is that good? You just said I'm the problem for bottling it all up,"

Molly Weasley slid out of bed and stretched. "It's a good thing because I've got things I have to deal with too,"

"What do you mean?" Ginny asked, growing more confused by the second.

"I think you want to break something,"

Ginny frowned, standing from the bed herself. "I mean… okay,"

Her mum nodded stiffly and adjusted her socks. "Well, I'd like to accompany you,"

Ginny's jaw went slack in shock and complete confusion. Her mum led her out of the room, and down the stairs to the kitchen, where she told her to pick up a crate of empty old wine bottles.

Ginny obeyed, and followed her mother out into the sunny afternoon, the bottles clattering against each other in the crate.

"Where is it we're going?" Ginny shouted in question.

"To the lake!" her mum replied.

There was a lake further off, past the property line. It was sort of in between The Burrow and Luna's house.

They walked in silence for some time. Ginny's mind was buzzing with hesitant excitement. Her mind was off Harry for the first time in weeks. Her mother was bringing her on a cracked-up mission to let loose on a dozen bottles.

Life was… strange.

After half an hour of walking, they reached the lake. Its gravely shores and murky depths weren't necessarily welcoming, even with the sun's scattered reflection on the waves.

"Alright… take a bottle," her mum instructed.

Ginny wrapped her hands around the neck of a wine bottle and flipped it around, carrying it as a bat.

Her mum waved her wand in a lazy arc, and the lake froze to five or ten meters out. Then, she summoned a bottle to her unoccupied hand, scrunched up her face, and threw the bottle onto the ice. It shattered. The sound reverberating through the shallow valley was like crystals clinking together.

It was unbelievably satisfying.

Ginny threw hers. Not thinking of anything in particular, and watched it break over the ice. Its shards slid far off, and into the water beyond the waterline.

Back and forth they went for hours. Her mother continued to summon the broken bottles back towards them, repaired them, and then broke them again.

It was a wonderful cycle.

Until it wasn't. Until Ginny felt the overwhelming weight of tampered emotions she'd let boil, undisturbed for years. Until her mother began crying, shouting with each bottle shattered.

Tears slid down Ginny's face as she threw bottle after bottle. Not waiting for her mother to take her turn.

Then, her mum let out a terrible cry and sank to her knees sobbing.

Ginny stood there, her legs shoulder width apart, staring out to the vast expanse of water in front of her.

She slowly sank to the ground. The wind picked up, blowing hair into her face.

Would she throw her life away? Would she miss out on a thousand possibilities?

Would she fall in love?

Harry watched the second hand on his watch tick by. Never changing, always consistent.

He felt alone, even though he knew well enough that for the first time in his life, he truly was surrounded by loved ones. Real people, alive and well, who loved him.

He sighed and turned back to his old school trunk. He sat there, contemplating it. He wanted out. He could feel Ginny's anxiety, he knew she felt similarly.

He felt trapped.

He just needed to leave. Leave everything behind. He'd come back, he was sure, but he wanted to leave.

Acting on the spike of determination that he knew would waver if he didn't do something, he shrunk his trunk down and stuffed it in his rucksack.

He scraped everything of his off the ground. Ron's room looked like it had never held two young boys. It was sad, to see something that had been his home away from home for so long look so empty.

Only, home wasn't Hogwarts anymore, and The Burrow was like an oven of apprehension and confusion. He needed out.

He tucked Twelve Fail-Safe Ways to Charm Witches into his bag, and lastly, his excuse.

The letter that he was holding on to was nothing more than a way out. An explanation for his running away.

A letter from Andromeda Tonks, sent through the muggle post, informing him that she and Teddy had left for the continent. Hiding away from the magical community. It was sent before the Battle of Hogwarts.

Andromeda didn't know her daughter and son-in-law were dead.

He'd kept this letter to himself, obviously. Hermione would've tried to help and console him, Mrs. Weasley would have gone looking for Andromeda, and Ginny would have felt like she needed to stand by him.

He didn't want Ginny to feel like she needed to do anything for him.

Out of Ron's open window, he heard Hermione giggling and Ron teasing her about the way she ate. Harry sighed. At the very least, they had each other.

He hauled his bag onto his shoulder and took one final look at the room. It was quite possible that by the time he got back, this wouldn't even be Ron's room anymore.

He hoped it wouldn't take that long.

He sneaked down the stairs, avoiding the steps that creaked. He noticed that Mrs. Weasley's room was open, as was Ginny's. They must have gone out.

He got to the kitchen and was just about to leave the house when he faltered. He couldn't leave without any sort of acknowledgment.

He conjured a small bit of parchment and summoned a quill and ink. He scribbled an appropriate note and cast a spell to hide its contents until being picked up. He put the note down and again hesitated. He took the parchment in his hands and placed another charm on it, to make sure that only one person, in particular, could read it.

Then, he left.

The walk to The Burrow's property line would take a long time, especially now that he wasn't walking all that fast. There was no need to rush change. He'd let it hit him when it did.

So, he took his time.

Ginny walked hand in hand with her mother back to The Burrow. She'd tied her hair in a long ponytail to avoid getting it in her face. It swished back and forth as they walked.

"I'm going to go back to bed if that's alright," Molly said delicately.

"That's fine," Ginny replied, her mind elsewhere.

They entered the kitchen and Ginny let go of her mum's hand. She watched her slowly climb the stairs, like someone whose back had been broken one too many times.

Ginny shook her head and collapsed into the head chair of the kitchen table. Her hand fell and landed on something that was distinctly un-wooden.

She pinched its edges to pull it off the table and looked at it.

The words slowly revealed themselves, their letters weaved and contorted into their final forms like ink in water.

It was quite the letter. Longer than anything she'd ever seen Harry write personally. She knew it was Harry because of the way he did his S's. Not to mention the signature at the bottom.

As she read it, she felt this horrible dread seep into the pit of her stomach. It wasn't from the Bond. It wasn't some forced product of someone else's meddling; it was her emotion. Her reaction.

She didn't want Harry to leave. She didn't want him to throw everything away because Andromeda Tonks didn't know her daughter was dead.

Ginny sprung to her feet, immediately twirling her wand in a hundred different directions. She summoned her rucksack, a coat, and a couple of pairs of shoes. She shrunk them down and stuffed them in the bag. She summoned her toiletries and a heap of clothing which she took the time to shrink individually. The whole process took maybe three minutes, but it was time wasted nonetheless.

She stuffed Harry's note in her pocket and conjured one of her own. She took the quill and ink Harry must have used, and wrote, "Taking a chance! -Ginny"

With her bag on her back, she bolted out the back door and down the lane toward the property border.

As she ran, she thought of Harry's note.

I don't know how to say this, but I want out. I feel so trapped by my own emotions and I cannot possibly condemn you to feel the same way.

She didn't want to feel that way, but she didn't want to miss a chance.

I feel like my life has barely begun, and already I'm being told what to do.

She felt the same way. She understood him.

Ginny, it's not that I don't like you. Hell, I may even love you,

She smiled to herself as she ran, her hair billowing behind her.

It's just that I can feel your hesitation. I can feel your fear of missing out on a thousand different lives,

She didn't care. Not now. She'd thrown hundreds of bottles and had come to this conclusion.

It wasn't worth worrying about what came in the future. All that mattered was how she felt now. That was real. That was something she could know for certain.

I waited a year to be with you again, I know I can wait longer still if it's right for both of us.

He was such an idiot. She was such an idiot. They were both so focused on what could be all while ignoring how they felt right now.

I hope I'll come to love myself and return to you in some way. This bond is weird, and it scares me. It changes how I feel and look at things.

Ginny could see him now. His hands were in his pockets and his head was looking up at the sky. He was almost at the gate. She was breathing so hard it hurt under her ribs. Like someone was clawing at her heart, but she pushed further. She ran faster.

I don't want something to interfere with who I am and who I care for. I want to be me, and if that means running away then, well, I'll run away.

Her footsteps must have made enough noise to catch Harry's attention because he stopped and turned around. The moment their eyes met, there was a rush of magic that shot through her from the bond, but it was nothing compared to the burning determination in her chest.

Harry's eyebrows knit together, not understanding what was happening.

I'm sure this letter sounds very confused. That's because I'm confused and I'm sure you are too.

She leaped up in a manner that forced Harry to catch her. His arms reached out instinctively and as expected, caught her around the middle. He spun on the spot to stall their fall.

I'll see you in a while. -Harry.

"What are you doing?" the present Harry asked. He sounded as though a lump was caught in his throat.

Ginny panted, clutching Harry's shoulders like her life depended on it. She felt like she ran the entire way from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade and back. "We… can be confused together,"

And then, she kissed him. With all the intention in the world, she kissed him. With every feeling in her body, with every memory of him, she kissed Harry.

She felt Harry's eyelashes brush against her face as they closed, and he returned the kiss.

She had no words to appropriately describe how it felt for Harry to return her motions. The relief was immeasurable.

The bond made itself known; she could feel it rising from its spot within her. She'd grown so used to its predictable behaviour that she felt strange being so acutely aware of its presence.

Ginny eventually pulled away as her hands grew numb, and Harry let her down to the ground.

He opened his mouth, but Ginny spoke over him. "I'm coming. I want… I want to try," she spoke with her hands. "I want to try and accept this… and I want to let myself fancy you," she nearly tripped over the word, but 'fancy' was more appropriate than what was on her mind. More so than ever, she was glad she could block Harry from her thoughts.

Harry stared at her with a pained expression, which slowly turned to soft contemplation. "You can't just leave your family,"

"I left a note,"

"Ginny," Harry crossed his arms over his chest and frowned at her.

Ginny swallowed and stood her ground. "My mum will understand," she spoke with a determination that might as well have been a confession under veritaserum.

They stared at each other for a while. Each holding on to the straps of their bags.

It was his eyes that gave him away first. They lost their squint, and gratitude shone through. Like Ginny had done something or touched on something he hadn't known he'd needed.

"Confused together," Harry repeated, his lips quirking upward. "Yeah… I can do that,"

Ginny grinned and stepped up next to him. They didn't have to communicate verbally or through a bond to continue the trek to the property line.

Ginny cringed as she felt herself pass through the protective enchantments. They stood a few feet passed the gate and looked on at the pinkening sky.

"How did you know?" Harry asked, his eyelids shut as he basked in the warmth of the setting sun.

"What?"

Harry shrugged. "How did you know that it would work? You just… running up to me."

Ginny's smile somehow broadened even further. "I didn't. Anything's possible if you've got enough nerve, Potter."

A/N: This is a story about how an ultimatum, making something seem so REAL, can completely affect how you view the greatest things in your life.

She's only doubting her feelings because of the Bond. Like, now that its an inevitability and this is like a life long decision, she's quesitoning herself. I want to like… say that without saying that. You know?

I hope that's what I did.

I'd love to hear your thoughts!

You can follow my Tumblr at rmwb-fanfics.