Summary- Love is like a butterfly that doesn't want to be held down. Loving him is even more so. Sequel to 'His Mind'.
A/N- Here it is, the sequel to His Mind and His Secret. I tried to get this out as quickly as possible, and I hope it meets and expectations. This was the hardest to write because at some points I wasn't sure how to describe certain things. Add to that I wasn't too sure about Ginny's persona. However, I thing I have done alright. So, enjoy!
Love is like a butterfly that doesn't want to be held down. Loving him is even more so. He flits this way and that, never being caught. Sometimes he stops and waits, as though thinking about where to head next, settling down and giving the false impression of inattention. But as soon as I make a wrong move he is off again. If the move is sudden enough he flies out the window.
But he always returns to me soon.
It is hard keeping even a light hold on him, and I am not sure how I am to hold him. Do I put my arms around him and hug him so tightly he would have no chance of getting away from me? Do I take his arm and hold it close to my side?
It is so hard. I could never lose his love, I know that, nor could he ever lose mine. But I also know that if I do something terrible and sudden enough he will fly out that window and he will not return unless I can convince him otherwise.
Earning Harry Potter's love to the point that he would approach me was perhaps the hardest thing that I have ever had to do. I was just the little sister, the one that had had the annoying crush on him and who he only ever really saw a few times.
Finally I managed to get over that stupid crush and act more like myself around him. Yet that crush was replaced by something else, something so deep that it almost scared me right away from him. The feeling was so powerful that I wanted to run right to the opposite end of the world, but at the same time be near him as often as I could and in the closest way possible.
I realised soon that I loved him.
I loved him so deeply and impossibly that it was almost like a physical ache within my heart. I longed to see him, to visit Privet Drive and run off with him. I wanted to create a portkey that would take me straight to his bedroom so I could grab a hold of him and hold him and proclaim my love for him.
But I couldn't do anything that I wanted to. Because doing and one of those things would only scare Harry away from me and I would have no chance to show him how much I loved him. I had to wait for him to come to me, no matter how long that would take.
I had to let him move the first piece on the chessboard, the move that would finally set the game in motion. Only then would I be free to love him as much as I could.
Waiting, though, was so hard. Sometimes I would just sit and stare at the clock, watching the second hand tick slowly around the face.
Other times I would sit at my bedroom and look up at the clouds slowly moving across the sky. Yet even they seemed to be moving faster then the time it would take for Harry to finally see me.
But the more I thought about it and the more I watched the world slowly moving around me I realised I could not just wait for him. Harry would need to see me as me first, not just as Ron's annoying little sister. Then he needed to be prompted to make that first move.
So I did prompt him.
When he arrived I started speaking to him, having conversations with him, showing him who I was and that I was a person in my own right. And slowly, bit by bit, he opened up that tiniest bit to me, allowing me to see slightly past the façade he allowed the world to see, allowing me to see the person Ron and Hermione saw on a daily basis.
As we began to get to know one another he began including me in a lot of the things he did with Ron and Hermione. Hermione, it seemed, was fully prepared to give me her one hundred per cent support, but, at first, Ron wasn't at all happy. For my unperceptive and thick brother he had managed to guess exactly what I was doing. I could not figure out, however, whether he was worried about me or if he was worried about Harry.
I did not wait for his approval, though. I knew what it was that I wanted and, for the first time in my short life, I was determined to get it. Being the youngest of seven meant that I did not always get what I would like to have, but I wanted Harry's love so badly that I was willing to do anything to get it.
I began to temp him just as you would tempt a butterfly with honey, or tempt a bird with seed or even tempt a duck with bread. I had the thing that he truly wanted above anything else and I was willing to give it to him freely. I began to tempt him with my love, the only thing that had to offer him and the only thing I knew he had never experienced.
I was well aware that my plan could go one of two ways. This whole thing could be blown out of the water as it exploded in my face and he would hate me forever. Or he would, unbelievably, begin to develop or even uncover affections for me in return.
Needless to say, I preferred the latter.
I was still amazed, however, when my plan, so simple and so full of holes and flaws that it seemed the only thing it could ever do was come crashing down around my ears was pulled off without a hitch and, by the end of the holidays, Harry was as deeply in love with me as I was with him.
Had I been that silly eleven year old with a stupid crush on a famous persona I would have immediately sent owls to all the people I knew, basking in the glory that I had because I had won the love of the boy-who-lived.
But I am not that silly eleven year. I am a fourteen year old who so casually mentioned to my friends at the welcoming feast that I was now going out with Harry.
Just Harry. The boy with messy, black hair and large glowing emeralds behind too-large round glasses. The boy who was a little small for his age and had knobbly knees and a shy smile. My brother's best friend and the orphan my mum had all but adopted into the family.
That's all he's ever wanted to be, really. Just a normal kid who could finish school with no worries other then his OWLs and his NEWTs. Yet most people will only ever see him as out saviour and they will praise his now, but the moment does something wrong they will drag said name through the mud. In the wizarding world, in the public eye, Harry has no room to make any sort of mistake.
But he does with me. He has all the room in the world with me. I let him make mistakes and I do reproach him for them. His mistakes, so clumsy that they can be endearing, are born of never having loved anyone before. So I teach him how to love and how to accept my love in return.
That is what he has the most difficult accepting, I believe. He is trying so hard to accept my love without believing that he should give me something in return. He doesn't understand that his love is all the payment I will ever need and that true loved doesn't have a price tag on it.
I know that eventually he will understand in time and that he will be a much happier person because of it.
But every time I think about 'the issue', as I have taken to calling it, I always remember the sound of his voice, so puzzle and bewildered, asking the one question he should never, ever have had to ask me.
But… how could you possibly love me
Because I do, Harry. Because I just do.
It was everything and nothing about him that caused me to fall in love with him. It didn't just happen overnight, it happened over a period of time, but as I lay thinking about it I was struck suddenly with the realisation of what I truly felt. I couldn't control it. But I would not exchange his love for anything else in the entire world.
It breaks my heart to remember that question. He shouldn't have had to ask, he should automatically realise that I did love him and there was no question about it. To realise that he doesn't feel worthy of my love… And I am crying now as I speak because it is still breaking my heart weeks later after you asked as I know that he still cannot make himself feel worthy.
Why don't you feel worthy? God damn it, Harry! I love you, can't you see that, can't you accept that as a fact, like I do? Even if I could choose who I fell in love with it would still be you! It would always be you!
It will always be you…
He's everything I ever dreamed about of having as my true love. He is gentle and courteous and doesn't try to hide me away from the rest of the world or keep things from me just because he wants to keep me safe. He recognises the burning spirit within both of us and knows that I will never be content to sit back and watch.
And he is never ashamed of me, of being in a relationship with me. He may not be one to flaunt our relationship overtly, but he has no qualms about walking down the corridors with me hand-in hand, causing many people to describe us as being 'sweet', nor does he have nor problems of quietly letting any wizards eyeing me know that I am his.
Some girls might complain about feeling like an item when their boyfriends say that they are theirs, but I feel good when Harry says or does something to let me and everyone else know that I am his and that he is mine. There's just something about it that makes me feel warm and loved.
I remember when I first met Harry, confused about how he was supposed to get onto Platform 9¾. I remember wishing him luck just before he went through the barrier, completely unaware of the legend standing before him.
Oh, how I laugh now as I remember nearly bouncing in excitement as I realised I had actually met the Harry Potter, the boy I had always dreamed of someday marrying. I wanted to go and see him again, but I am so glad that mum would not let me get on the train to go and stand in from of him and gawking at him.
I knew, even then, though, that both of us would eventually overcome our obstacles and end up together, possibly even forever. Then it had been wishful thinking but, years later, it has become a reality.
Mum told me once that you always know, even if it is just subconsciously, who your soul mate is when you meet them. I knew when I saw him at Kings Cross, I knew when I opened my eyes and saw him leaning over me in the Chamber and I knew when I saw him return from the third task, heartsick over seeing another champion dying. Possibly Harry knew too, though he shoved the idea to back of his mind before it could even form consciously.
Not that I blame him for doing so. I reckon I would have done so as well and been as embarrassed as him if he had had a crush on me like I had had on him. As it is I still cringe at just the thought of it. My only consolation was that at least he was nice about it, making the effort to say hello to me, even if I was only going to squeak in reply, and pretending not to notice if I stuck my elbow in the butter dish or something else extraordinarily clumsy.
Oh yes, I knew very well that he had notice my clumsiness and was pretending not to notice so I wouldn't be further embarrassed. I was quite grateful to him for that.
What I didn't realise, though, until about a week ago when I was helping Harry, Ron and Hermione search through Harry's trunk desperately for an essay he had lost – potions of all things, though how you could lose your potions essay is beyond me – as mum sorted Ron and Harry's clothes on their beds behind us. I picked up his second year transfiguration book and accidentally dropped it. It opened to a page around the middle of the book and familiar shrill singing met my ears, causing all of her to drop what we were holding and cringe at the horrible sound.
It took me a moment to recognise it as the get-well card that I had made him in his third year after he had fallen off his broom because dementors had come onto the pitch.
Poor Harry could do nothing but stare at it as we all turned out eyes to look at him in surprise. He went bright red when Ron asked one on earth he would have kept that. He stammered some sort of incomprehensible excuse in return and dashed out of the room, not coming back for a good thirty minutes, by which time we had finally found the somewhat rumpled essay.
The feeling I had gotten when I realised that he had actually kept it was indescribable. It seemed amazing to me that he would have kept the card I had given him when he had put the card under the fruit bowl to stop it singing so loudly and had supposedly had a stupid crush of his own on Cho Chang, the beautiful Ravenclaw seeker.
I love to let her know now that Harry is mine. She lost her chance when he still had a crush on her, and now he loved me.
Not that that stopped her from trying. My blood still boils whenever I think of what she did to Harry and how she had nearly broken us apart. My heart still screams for revenge whenever I see her, still recovering from our attack two weeks later. It is only my mind, calmly reminding me that she was still serving detention under Professor McGonagall for her rotten deeds that stops me from hexing her so badly she would no longer know who she is.
Chang is the perfect example of why Harry finds it so difficult to accept love from anyone. Had he had gone out with her she would have clung to him like a horrible leech and she would have expected him to do everything for her in return for having her affections. As it is she still demanded that he love her despite her knowing that he had me now. She had that he only had eyes for me because she wanted him, not out of love but out of lust for his fame.
But I suppose I can live with that. After all, she won't get Harry now, especially after what she did to him. And I love Harry too much to ever willingly let him get away from me so easily. I won't cling to him, I am determined to hold on to him with all my might now that I have him. I will hold on to him for as long as he will let me.
The only problem I can possibly find with mine and Harry's relationship is how extremely difficult he is to love. He goes so red even if I just kiss him on the cheek and sometimes even stutters his replies when I fondly tell him how much I love him.
He doesn't know how to handle my affections so he just leaves it be and later thinks about it in the safety of his enclosed four poster bed. He is tentative when offering his own affections, hesitating as though afraid that I will reject them, as impossible as it sounds to me.
I honestly cannot think of what I can say to him, to try and sooth these fears of his. I don't know how to tell him that I am not going to suddenly up and leave him. I'm not sure how to tell him that there actually is a reason that I am going out with him that has nothing to do with any sort of madness on my part,
So I don't say anything at all.
What can I say to some who would be embarrassed to the extreme of actually withdrawing from me if I should actually bring the subject up? Nothing. I can even imagine what the conversation would be like;
Harry, you need to be more self-assertive. I'm not going to leave you, you should know that by now!
Well, all this hesitation…
No, Ginny, that's just how I am. You don't need to worry about it.
I'm going to go for a walk, alright? I'll be back in a little while.
As I really don't want him to withdraw from me, even for a little while, I keep my mouth shut, no matter how much I wish to say something to him.
Still, it is a problem I will have to face sooner or later, or he will never be comfortable in our relationship. If he doesn't face it and actually defeat it something terrible could happen and we'd never know because he would be too ashamed to tell us.
He could be being sent messages with death threats upon them and he would keep us in the dark so we would not worry needlessly about his safety.
Do I sound bitter?
Perhaps I am. Perhaps I am bitter that I sometimes find Harry doesn't seem to trust me, even though I know very well that I he does. Or perhaps I am so bitter because one day there could be a knock on my door and someone will tell me that he dies in unexplained circumstances when, as far as I was aware, he was safe at home.
You make me so angry, so frustrated sometimes, Harry! You and your bloody 'save the world at any costs' inclination, even if it means sacrificing yourself for the 'greater good'.
I don't give a damn about the grater good! You weren't born to be a weapon of some sort, Harry, no matter what anyone else has made you believe! How do you reckon I would feel if you suddenly left someday, without saying goodbye, and you never came back? I would never know what happened because I didn't know where you went.
Do you honestly believe that, if you died, I would just grieve for perhaps a month or so and then get over it, going on with my life? That Ron and Hermione will go and live a happy life together once they've mourned and that they will forget all about you?
It does work like that, Harry! Things don't work like that, the world doesn't work like that!
Missing you would become almost like a physical ache that I, that we, could never ever heal, and I would die missing you with every labouring breath I take when my time is up. Ron and Hermione would forever be seeing things that reminded them of you and their 'happy life' would always be marred by the shadowy thought that can't help but whisper, Harry should have been here.
That is love, Harry. Whether it is the love of family, surrogate or real, the love of friends or the love of soul mates; that is what love is.
Yet you don't understand I don't know how to make you. If I told you any of this you would just feel guilty for making me feel like this and you would stop telling me the little you do keep me informed of…
How do I make him understand that I love him with all my heart? How does Ron and Hermione make him see what he seems to ignore, that their friendship and love is lifelong? How do we make him accept our love, which doesn't realise will always be there for him?
I know Ron and Hermione are extremely worried about Harry? I know that Hermione was writing her feelings down on parchment the other day and that Ron actually went to plead a muggle psychologist for help, for pointers, for anything at all after trying to unsuccessfully convince Harry to see him for himself. Harry doesn't like to acknowledge that something could be wrong with him. He won't even consider the idea for a moment.
I couldn't bring myself to write any of my deepest, darkest feelings and thoughts down, particularly after the fiasco with Tom Riddle and his diary in my first year, nor could I talk to a complete stranger about my problems. So I've compromised in a way that would have made my dad start bouncing in excitement, for I am using a muggle recorder in the safety of the Room of Requirement where electrical equipment seem to work.
Perhaps we will listen to this tape one day together, Harry, and we will both laugh and cry over my unfounded fears and insecurities and you will hold me and reassure me that that time is long past.
Or perhaps I will listen to this tape alone one day and I will cry as I realise that I had been right after all, but there was nothing I could do to stop you. I will mourn you loss and my heart will stay broken until the day I die and I am finally able to be in your arms once more.
But it is no use thinking of what might happen, for it is the here and now and that is concerning my most. I can't seem to find a way to help you, Harry, but I will always be there for you, your rock, your strength in your darkest times. Just don't ever forget or doubt one thing, I beg you.
I love you.
Reviews for His Mind;
Thank you very much to Sra. Darcy, who I'm sorry I didn't reply to, but thank you for your review and your compliment, and to Aldavinur, who has reviewed both sequels to date and is the only one to have done so. Thank you very much to both of you!