A/N: Confession: While I'm loving writing Knowing Where to Look, dang if I don't miss exploring different viewpoints sometimes. So occasionally, I sit down to write and something I didn't intend comes out. So I figure, I may as well post them, yes?

Each story can be read on its own, so feel free to flip to whichever character may interest you. I am not easily offended. And if you have a character in mind or a scene you're interested in reading from a different point-of-view, feel free to drop it in the comments. I'm very open to suggestions/requests.

Summary:

"They had left her behind. Again. Was this her role? To be left behind?"

Or...
DH: Harry and Ginny's reunion after the Battle of Hogwarts.

Ginny Weasley
They Had Time

The War was over. They'd won. Hadn't they?

All around her in the Great Hall, people were celebrating. But it was hard to muster a victory cheer and a festive mood when sitting next to Mum.

She was crying again, Mum was. Ginny rested her head on her mother's shoulder. It was partly to comfort herself. But more to comfort Mum. Mum found comfort in feeling like she was comforting other people. Ginny accepted this responsibility. She could handle Mum crying—she was well acquainted with Mum crying. It was Dad crying that was tearing her to pieces.

Dad sat across the table from Ginny. His elbow was propped on the table, his chin in hand, and he was staring blankly out across the room, but his eyes were unfocused. No expression was on his face, but tears were falling in a steady trickle down his cheeks. Ginny almost never saw Dad cry. And now every tear felt like a knife to her heart.

George had stepped out, muttering something about the toilet. But that had been twenty minutes ago, and Ginny thought it more likely he had just left in search of a little solitude. She wondered how long to give him before they should go after him.

Percy was sitting beside Dad, one hand on their father's back. His face was covered by the other hand, his glasses forgotten on the table. Ginny couldn't read his expression. But his shoulders shook in silent sobs. Charlie was in solemn conversation with Hagrid a little way down. Bill and Fleur were lost in their own world, gazing into each other's eyes with love and pain and happiness and sorrow. It was a little disgusting, actually. But Ginny had to acknowledge that maybe that was just the jealousy talking.

Food sat before them, but no one ate. No one spoke. They just sat there. No. It didn't feel like they'd won. There were no winners here.

Breaking the rule she had set for herself, Ginny cast around the room, looking for Harry. She had told herself she wouldn't do this. That she wouldn't be needy. That she would give him time and space. But damn, it was hard playing by her own rules.

He had barely looked at her. Almost a year he had been gone, and she had missed him every single day. Over and over she had found herself daydreaming of the day the War would end and Harry would be free to come back to her. She had imagined them seeing each other again for the first time. Had imagined them running toward each other and falling into each other's arms. Had imagined him kissing her deeply, passionately, unreservedly.

But when it had come down to it, he had barely looked at her.

Alright. That wasn't fair. She knew this. You-Kno— Voldemort, she corrected herself internally— had lain dead on the floor of the Great Hall. And Harry had just stood there, stock still, looking down upon the body of his enemy with face devoid of emotion. And then Ron and Hermione had run to him. And Ginny had been quick to follow suit. And Harry had hugged her. But it had been as though he had barely known who he was hugging. His gaze had been far away. And then she had been pushed aside by other admirers. And that had been that.

She tried to tell herself not to read into this. It wasn't fair to either of them. It was egotistical to think that he would be able to focus on her and their relationship (or lack thereof) at a time like that. So she had waited.

Minutes and then hours ticked by. She had watched him. Pretending not to, of course. Telling herself that she shouldn't watch him. And she waited. But Harry was in leader-mode. Not boyfriend-mode. He was not hers. At least not right then.

She had watched, pretending not to watch, as Harry milled around the Great Hall. He was constantly surrounded by people. She pretended not to watch as McGonagall, looking prouder than Ginny had ever seen her, squeezed Harry's shoulder and offered him a rare teary smile, murmuring something she could not here. She pretended not to watch as his eyes popped under the pressure of one of Hagrid's bone-crushing hugs. She pretended not to watch as Neville embraced him and Dean and Seamus thumped him on his back. She pretended not to watch as he accepted hug after hug, handshake after handshake. As he exchanged words of comfort to the bereaved, words of encouragement to the injured, words of congratulation to the jubilant. Words words words. To everyone but her.

Harry accepted this role without complaint. But he looked tired. Beyond tired. He walked from group to group as though in a daze. But no one seemed to notice. Why did no one notice? Why did no one seem to care that he seemed to barely be able to keep his feet under him or muster a smile— or any emotion at all, really. Why couldn't they leave him be for even just a moment? Give him a chance to catch his breath. To clear his head. To rest.

When at last Harry had found a seat on a bench next to Luna, Ginny turned away. She could not be annoyed at everyone else for paying him too much attention when she herself was doing it too. But her heart ached. And the one person from whom she longed to seek comfort was unattainable. She once again rested her head on her mum's shoulder.

He had been dead. Harry had been dead. Hagrid had carried his body out of the forest. And he had been dead.

It didn't matter that he had been faking it. To Ginny, that had been real. Would always be real. And in that instant, she had shattered into a million pieces. And now she was left to sit here, trying to determine if she would ever be able to reassemble the jigsaw puzzle that once had been her heart.

It was so silly that she was sitting here, worrying about where her relationship stood. How could this matter in the face of all that had happened? She tried to remind herself that she was a strong independent woman, and that even if Harry didn't love her— didn't want to be with her— it didn't matter. She would survive that. If she could survive him dying, she could survive that. All that mattered was that he was alive.

And there were so many more important things happening right now. Merlin, but Fred was dead. Her brother. He was really and truly dead. But she couldn't comprehend that. It was too big. Too painful. Perhaps stressing over something as stupid as her relationship status was her brain's way of protecting her from that thought.

And so it was that against her better judgment, she again turned to look back at Harry. But Harry was nowhere to be seen. Luna was still there, sitting on the bench, swinging her legs like a small child, and staring off into the distance above everyone's heads. She had a small dreamy smile on her face as though she could see something no one else could.

With a little more urgency than Ginny cared to admit to, she cast around, scanning the Great Hall for Harry. But he was nowhere to be seen. She turned to check on Ron and Hermione two tables away, thinking that perhaps he would have gone to sit with them. They had been quietly canoodling together, holding hands secretly under the table. Like they were fooling anybody. But as Ginny watched, he saw them both start and their backs straightened simultaneously. Then, without a word, they had both risen to their feet, extracted themselves from the bench at the table, and walked out of the Great Hall purposefully.

And Ginny understood. She knew it with more certainty than she could explain. Harry had been under the invisibility cloak and had gone to collect them. He was avoiding the throng of admirers. And the three of them were extracting themselves to an area of peace and quiet.

And they had left her behind. Again. Was this her role? To be left behind?

It hurt her more than she cared to admit. She turned back, looking around at her grieving family, none of whom had noticed Ron and Hermione leaving. The minutes ticked on. And still no one spoke. On occasion one or the other would push around some food on their plate. Maybe manage a bite and chew with the effort that one might chew cardboard. And the minutes ticked on. How long could she sit here? She wanted to be doing something. But she had absolutely no idea what.

As Ginny sat, a tear trickled down her cheek. She couldn't even say for whom this tear was for. For Fred? For Mum and Dad? For Harry? For herself? For George?

George. Where was George? It must have been nearly an hour since he had excused himself to the loo. Everyone was too lost in their own misery to notice. But now she looked for him. But he was not there.

Perhaps this was her task. The thing she needed to occupy herself. Without much thought, she rose from her spot on the bench. Dad and Percy looked up at her questioningly.

"I'm going to go look for George," she said. Abruptly, all of her family was blinking and looking around as though only just realising he had not come back.

"Merlin's beard, how long has he been gone," asked Dad dully.

"Bloody hell. I didn't even notice…"

"I'll come with you," volunteered Percy.

"No," replied Ginny, a little too quickly. She wasn't quite ready to be alone with Percy. She wasn't entirely sure she was quite ready to be alone with anybody. When Percy looked hurt, she struggled to soften her tone. "I think maybe it's best not to crowd him. I just want to check that he's alright. I won't be long."

And without waiting for a response from any of them, she moved in the direction of the door to the Entrance Hall. As she moved through the doors, she glanced back at her family. They had gone back to their lonely misery. But Percy was watching her. His expression was one of sorrow and guilt. She would forgive him. In time. She knew she would. But she wasn't quite there yet.

She sighed and turned back the way she was heading and walked head long into someone heading the opposite direction.

"Sorr—" she started. Then the word died in her mouth as she found herself staring into a familiar pair of bright green eyes.

"Oh, Ginny!" said Hermione. "We were just going in to tell your parents that we're headed up to Gryffindor Tower to try to get some sleep."

"Uh huh," Ginny said distractedly. Then blinked, abruptly realising she had been standing there staring at Harry with her mouth hanging open. She hadn't even realised Ron and Hermione were behind him. She gave her head a little shake to clear it and drew in a breath. "Sorry. Yeah. That's a good idea." She tore her gaze away from Harry to look at Ron and Hermione who were looking back and forth between her and Harry. Ginny blushed. "I er… I was just going to look for George."

"George?" Ron asked, confused.

Ginny managed a shrug. "He went off to the loo about an hour ago and hasn't come back. I'm sure he's fine," she hastened to add when Ron and Hermione exchanged worried glances. "But I just wanted to check on him." Unbidden, her eyes moved to look up again at Harry. He was still staring at her. But he said nothing, and his face was an unreadable mask.

"We can help you look for him," Hermione offered.

"No. No it's okay," said Ginny. Still Harry was just standing there, saying nothing. Suddenly, she found herself anxious to be on about her task and away from this incredibly awkward interaction. "You guys go get some rest. I'll meet you up there after I find him."

She moved to step around Harry and head toward the staircase. But suddenly, a hand shot out and grabbed her wrist with the speed and accuracy only a Seeker could manage. Ginny turned back, surprised, and sure enough, the hand belonged to Harry.

No other part of him had moved. His face was still turned to where she had been standing a minute before. Now he did not look at her. He just stood there. Stock still. Holding her wrist. Ginny didn't think it was just his grip that was preventing her from moving away in that moment. She stood, rooted to the spot, staring dumbly at Harry's long fingers wrapped around her wrist. Her heart was pounding wildly at the contact.

There was a moment's silence, then Hermione cleared her throat. "On second thought… Ron, why don't you and I go look for George. We have the Map. Should be easy enough. Then we can update your parents after we find him."

"Huh? Ouch!" Ginny was vaguely aware of Hermione kicking Ron in the shin. "Oh. Right. Sure. Why don't you two just head up to the Gryffindor Common Room? That way you can avoid your hoard of admirers Harry. We can meet you up there in a bit?" He said it as a question.

Ginny's eyes were slowly traveling up Harry's arm, to his shoulder, to his neck, to his cheek. "Uh huh," replied Ginny dully, when Harry didn't respond to Ron. "Sure." Vaguely, she was aware of the other two moving away. Still neither she nor Harry moved a muscle.

She wasn't sure how long they stood that way. When it came time to move, it was the faintest change in pressure on her wrist that led her to do so. Harry very gently was pulling her back, and he was turning slowly as he did so. And without quite understanding how it had happened, Ginny found herself standing facing him, separated by mere inches, her hands in his.

She looked up at him then. But he did not meet her eye. He was staring down at their entwined hands, running a pattern over her fingers with his thumb. Then, very slowly, he looked up to meet her gaze. And for just a moment, his blank, unreadable mask slipped. And in his expression she saw sorrow and loss and heartache. And something else. Something that frightened her. Yearning. And then he very gently pulled her close and put his arms around her and hugged her.

She squeezed her eyes shut as she savoured the feeling of his embrace. She felt his hand stroke the hair at the nape of her neck. Heard his stertorous breath in her ear. Felt his heart beating in his chest and was surprised to note that if felt just as erratic as her own. And she felt tears trickle down her cheeks.

"I missed you." He whispered the words so soft she could barely hear them despite that she felt the breath of them ruffle her hair. She felt a tension release from her body which she had not realised she was holding. And she melted into him.

Ginny didn't know how long they stood this way. Vaguely she was aware of people coming and going from the Great Hall passing them. But they at least seemed to recognise that this was a moment they shouldn't interrupt, no matter how eager they were for the attention of the Chosen One. And so the two of them simply stood that way.

It might have been minutes later— maybe hours, maybe days. But after a long time, Harry pulled back and looked at her again. The fingers of one hand came up to rest on her cheek, very softly and very tentatively. His eyes roved around her face. He seemed to be taking in every detail as though he wasn't sure if there would come a day when all he would have of her was a memory.

But that was not this day. And so, his eyes finally met hers. And in them was a question which she silently answered with her own. And he leaned down, very slowly, tentatively, uncertainly. And he brushed his lips against hers.

It was the barest, softest hint of a kiss. And Ginny felt a constriction around her heart. And it was almost painful. Ginny squeezed her eyes shut hard as the tears flowed. She kept her eyes shut as he pulled away from her again. Just for a moment. Then she opened them and saw Harry was watching her sadly, questioningly.

And even through the tears, she felt the corners of her mouth turn up in a small smile. And then he was smiling sadly back at her too.

She thought back to her daydream of him running to her and snogging her passionately. No. This had been better. For it had been real.

Besides, she thought, as they turned without a word and began to walk hand-in-hand toward Gryffindor tower. There would be time for that later. There would be time for talk and for snogging and for laughter and for love.

They had time.