Disclaimer: The characters of JKR are not mine, nor are the places she has invented. I don't remember, but I might have gotten this idea from somewhere, but I don't think so. If so, please, don't sue—I'm going to Italy this summer and would like to keep those plans. Plzkthx.
Summary: Oh, such a depressing story, really. Well, not totally, and there's a happy ending, but it's somewhat angsty and dark since it's in the middle of the war. Ginny has planned to meet Harry in the Burrow to join his ranks in fighting Voldemort. After the final battle, they do eventually start up again. Sort of a bittersweet ending. One-shot, Ginny/Harry.
I Want Him Back
By Natali K. A.
Ginny Weasley sat in her room in her parents' house, staring out at the fields around the home she grew up in.
It was dark, so dark. She couldn't remember the last time she'd seen the sun in the sky. It was always dark lately, and laughter was a rare, rare thing.
The War was raging in the outside world right now and her own brother was fighting. Her best friend was fighting. The love of her life was fighting.
Soon she too would fight.
The War had been going on for nearly two years now and the end didn't seem to be anywhere in sight.
Ginny sighed, tears stinging her eyes as she glanced about the room she'd spent most of her life living in.
She couldn't believe that she used to live here. It was bereft of furniture, so empty of light, robbed of the life it'd once held. Why there was the ink stain on her carpet from when she'd written a love letter to Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, back in her First Year and she'd knocked it over by accident. She'd never mailed him that silly letter.
Thank God. She probably wouldn't have been able to hold her head up if she had.
She whipped around, running to the man she hadn't seen in nearly a year and a half. The sobs that wracked her body were impossible to hold back. She didn't dare try. He would have known anyway.
She hugged him, breathing him in and feeling him. He was hale, he was whole, he was here. If just for now.
Ginny leaned back, studying his face. He wiped away her tears, blinking back his own.
"You look great, Harry," she said shakily, ignoring how much he'd changed.
"So do you. Your hair's gotten really long."
She nodded, smiling. "You look so tired," she noted, intensely sad for him. "How are Ron and Hermione?"
"Good. They say hi and send hugs and kisses. We miss you a lot."
She nodded again as they fell in silence, only holding each other. Ginny felt more comfortable and protected than she had in a long while.
"And your parents? Ron's worried because he hasn't been able to get in touch."
She drew a sharp breath. "Dad got attacked on the street about a month ago. He went into a coma for two weeks then woke up. He… He doesn't really remember much. Mum doesn't know what to do with herself. But the Healers think he'll recover completely. Eventually."
"Is he improving?"
"Steadily, but slowly."
Harry stared down at the top of her head, at the beautiful red hair that would probably never fade away no matter how old she got. "Why did you ask me to meet you here?"
"I'm coming back with you," she said firmly. "I'm ready to fight next to you, I'm ready to lend a hand and defeat the bastard."
"No," she snapped. "I'm going with you."
"Why? why won't you stay here? Why can't you stay out of danger? Why—"
"Stay out of danger?" she laughed bitterly. "There's danger all around me everywhere I go, no matter where I go! There's no such thing as a safe place right now. The very thought makes me laugh."
"You'll be in more danger. You will probably die," he said bluntly, arms tightening around her subconsciously.
She didn't respond, partly because she knew it was true. How many had already died? How many more would follow?
"For me, please don't go," he begged her, leaning in close.
"For you, I have to."
They fell into another comfortable silence in each other's arms. He didn't ask her how she'd been or how her last year at Hogwarts had gone. She didn't ask what they were doing in relation to Voldemort and getting rid of him or what the Death Eaters had been doing to members of their side.
He did, however, say the one thing that was on both their minds.
"I have missed you so very much."
"Me, too. I think I've missed you more. I was so anxious when we wouldn't hear anything about you three or any of the others we know." She went against what her mind told her and listened to her heard—she kissed his lips lightly.
It was so quick that he wondered if it'd really happened. The tingling, however, had confirmed that it'd happened.
"Ginny, nothing's changed in the past two years. We're just older." He forced himself to say the hardest words he would ever have to say. "I'm still too dangerous for you. I would never be able to live with myself if something happened to you because of me. As it is, I keep wondering if maybe he can read my mind and see… see my feelings for you."
For a moment, they were back in school, and he was telling her for the first time how very much he liked her.
She kissed him, telling herself not to cry. He still loved her, just as she loved him. But that wasn't why she wanted him here tonight. She wanted to make sure he was alright, or at least as alright as he could be.
But damn did he look weary. As if he just didn't want to live anymore. Fighting He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had certainly sucked out of him his love for life.
"Ginny, I can't—we can't—stay here long."
She nodded into his shirt. She wondered vaguely when he'd last bought himself a new shirt. Or a new anything.
No worries. Mrs. Weasley had already thought of it and had sent a care package with supplies and nice large bottle of whiskey.
"Come on," he whispered into her hair. "If you're going to insist on coming, we need to leave."
Nearly a year later, after many casualties, after many tears, and after much searching, Harry had finally had his chance to go up against Voldemort. Of course, he survived, if just barely. Hours after the actual Battle, his three friends found him prone on the ground, hardly breathing.
It wasn't a time of peace until over two years later, when finally every possible trace of Dark magic and Dark intentions were wiped. But the memories stayed, the horror that plagued even muggles was not forgotten and could never be erased.
Even then, Harry would still wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat, crying. He had never told anyone what went on that night, the night he defeated the Dark Lord. Ginny, Ron, and Hermione speculated that it was because he didn't think the world could handle it.
After such a long period of fear, after coming so close to losing their freedom, things were ultimately beginning to go back to normal.
That would include any relationships pushed aside in the name of Peace and Good.
Ginny, now 21, stood in the doorway of Harry's room in his godfather's house. The Weasleys had never returned to the Burrow—there was no Burrow to return to, since Death Eaters set it on fire—and Harry had just let them move in. Not a single word was spoken, it was just sort of agreed upon.
Part of that agreement was that Harry would also reside there.
He was still so sick, even two years after he'd left St. Mungo's with his fatal injuries. It was hard for him to go up several flights of stairs too quickly. He couldn't lift anything heavier than thirty pounds.
He was a mere shadow of the being he used to be.
Ginny cried silent tears for the man she loved, because she knew that even in his sleep he couldn't escape the harsh reality of it all. Dreamless Sleep Potions did nothing to him. It was as if he was immune to anything that would ease his discomfort.
It would not be the first time that she stood by his door, watching to make sure he was alright. Nor would it be a big surprise if sometime in the night he started thrashing about and yelling and crying. She would be there, trying to soothe him.
It was something she was used to. Ginny wondered if he would ever be able to be peaceful again. Would that he could just sleep, perhaps he'd be the old Harry again. Perhaps then they'd…
She was so mad at herself. She was so selfish! Here was Harry who had gone through so much—for her, for those he loved, for the world!—and all she could think about was picking up where they'd left off.
Harry hadn't even said a word of how he felt since before that Battle. No one knew if he was hurting inside, or dying, or… Fine. Of course, they all had their speculations, but no one knew because he didn't tell anyone.
Walking over to his bed, her tears increased. Every night she feared the moment that his nightmares would start up. They caused her physical pain—she could feel the hurt the curses he'd been hit with inflicted. Reaching him, she bent down and kissed his forehead. While he was breathing rather loudly, he definitely was sleeping restfully, if just for now.
She sat next to his bed, unable to keep herself from falling asleep. He'd wake her up if he had a nightmare anyway.
He always did.
"Ginny," a voice whispered, tapping her shoulder. "Ginny, wake up. Let him sleep."
The redhead blinked sleepily, yawning. Taking Hermione's hand, she allowed herself to be hoisted up and led out of Harry's room. She shut the door quietly behind her.
"Either I slept through his screaming, or he didn't have a nightmare last night," Ginny muttered, stretching her stiff back. When was the last time she'd actually slept in a bed?
"Ginny, you're terribly thin. You can't help him with what he's going through. He doesn't know that you're there next to him," Hermione said softly as they walked into the kitchen. There was a pot of coffee already made. Hermione poured them both some.
"He does," Ginny insisted. "I'm there for him and he knows it."
Hermione sighed. Truthfully, they were both thin and sad and in the supposed prime of their life.
"Life's going back to normal now. People are starting to forget the years of Darkness."
"Not for Harry. Not for the one who saved them all," Ginny spat bitterly. "How unfair is it that the one who rescued us from certain doom is the one who will have to deal with the haunting memories all his life! How can people just up and forget all he's done? Do you see them out there, trying to console their hero? Do you see them trying to make things better? Do you see—"
"Ginny!" Hermione snapped, interrupting. "No, I don't! They're out there moving on—what we should all be doing! You can't live in the past forever. It is what it is, and Harry was the one chosen to deal with it. None of us wanted it, but it's done, isn't it?"
Ginny fell silent. She disagreed. She didn't feel she could get on with her life until Harry did. Until Harry was alright again. Until he was hers, like he was supposed to be.
Harry was just waking up upstairs as this conversation between Ginny and Hermione unfolded. For the first time in what seemed like forever, he didn't want to jump off a bridge because of the previous night.
"No nightmare." He said it aloud as if to prove it to himself. "No nightmare," he repeated with more enthusiasm, daring to smile slightly—a rare occurrence on his face nowadays.
He threw himself out of bed. "Gotta tell Ron!"
Later that night, Ginny had been forced into bed by an adamant Hermione. She'd fallen asleep against her own will because of sheer exhaustion.
Her bedroom door was pushed open and a man with jet black hair and a lightning shaped scar on his forehead watched her from across the room. Even in her sleep, Ginny was crying, tears that she couldn't shed in front of the man she loved because it would only hurt him more.
In her sleep, images were racing through her mind: the scary, bright red eyes of Voldemort she had once stared into, the sight of Harry on the ground nearly dead, and her friends and family dying or dead. She didn't usually have nightmares—only because she didn't usually sleep.
Harry stepped into the room and shut the door. It was chilly, as it was November, and he wished he'd had the foresight to slip on socks. He was worried because she'd never come to his room like she usually had, when he'd planned to tell her that he hadn't had a nightmare. She had been gone all day, doing something for the Ministry.
She sobbed, choking on her tears.
He wanted to tell her that he'd had three full meals today and hadn't felt nauseous at all. Though they had been very light meals, it was more than he usually ate in a week.
"Ginny," he whispered, shaking her awake. "Shh, don't cry, Gins."
"H-Harry?" she asked quietly, turning to look at him. "What are you doing here? Couldn't you sleep? I'll make you something warm if you'd like."
He could tell she was trying to pretend that she hadn't just been crying. But enough of that.
He pushed back her covers and motioned for her to scoot over, which she did though with a look of bewilderment. He climbed in, thankful to set his feet in the warmth left by her body.
"This is for all the times you stayed with me." He kissed her temple. He couldn't be sure that he wouldn't have a nightmare, but at least it was a step in the right direction. It was time for him to focus on her a little bit more.
"You don't have to listen to me sob," she sniffed, wiping at her eyes. "Ron told me at work that you had a good night last night."
"Sweetheart…" he sighed, hugging her closer. "Talk to me. I'm not ready yet to… to talk about that night, but I want to talk to someone. Every time they look at me, I see the sympathy and pity in their face. I hate it." He said it with contempt.
Her sobs sounded through the room once more as she buried her head in his chest, soaking his shirt through. "I miss you," she cried, hiccupping.
"What do you mean, I'm right here."
"No, no, you're not! You haven't been the same and I miss you," she blubbered, squeezing his arm. "I want my Harry back," she whispered.
"Don't worry, he's coming back," he promised her, kissing her softly. "Get some sleep."
She shut her eyes, content for the moment to be in his arms. She was tired, he was tired, and they would do nothing else in that bed tonight but sleep.
"I love you," he whispered into her hair. By the thickness in his voice she knew he was crying too.
"Yeah," she smiled weakly. "I love you, too."
If nothing else, they would be alright. Perhaps life wouldn't be one fun ride from now on, but it'd be a memorable one. They each took it to mean that they could now "pick up where they'd left off", all those years ago.
A/N: "Reunited, and it feels so good!"—Sorry, couldn't resist, lol. Oh, I have no idea how I came up with this, to be honest. It started off being a smutty one-shot about Ginny seeing Harry after two years, and I don't know. It changed. So is the life of an authoress.
I started this way long ago. But never finished it. And today I've been writing a bunch, and figured, why not? So yeah. There it is. How do you like dem apples? (Crazy lady…)
I feel this was somewhat choppy, but pray, forgive me? Happy Heart Day!
Review? Because you all adore me?
Oh, by the way, I'm writing a book. Er… like five, but I'm only gonna publish one. Reason? College applications! I'm not studying to be a writer, but it can't hurt, eh? Anyway, I could always use the money to pay for college, no? Can I have some promises that you'll buy it? Eh, eh! Pretty please?
All my love,