Disclaimer: Harry Potter and its characters do not belong to me.
This is written for 'The Rainbow Challenge' on the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges Forum using the prompts 'white' and 'snowflake'. Set four years after the end of the final battle but before the epilogue. Hope you like it.
There was something about the snow that released her.
All the stress, all the anger, all the hate within her disappeared when she saw the white flakes falling around her, settling on the boughs of the trees above her and the grass below.
Snow covered everything, hiding the imperfections of the land and making it pure, fresh, like a blank page, waiting for somebody to make their mark upon it. She cherished the brief moments when it lay before her, untarnished, symbolising the possibilities of the world. She knew it wouldn't be long, however, before it was ruined. Before it was covered in footprints, the crossing paths of people who were uninterested, uncaring of the purity they were spoiling.
A metaphor for life indeed, but as depressing as this thought was, she had resolved long ago to enjoy it while it lasted. The way she would live her life.
Her brothers had called her crazy before for standing in the cold winter air, watching the small white snowflakes fall all around her with a huge smile as they landed on her upturned face and vibrant red hair.
Ever since she was small child she had been fascinated with the snow, where it came from, where it went. Somewhere between solid and liquid, it had been magical to her when she was young. She had grown up surrounded with magic, all around her amazing things happened and she just took them in her stride. Even after she had attended Hogwarts and had learnt magic that as a child she had only dreamed about, the snow was still one of the most amazing things in the world to her.
It covered the blemishes, the ugliness of the world, even if only temporarily and made everything bright and beautiful. Perfect.
She stood now in the back garden of her childhood home, in the exact centre of the garden. On a lazy summer's day many years ago Bill and Charlie had helped a four year old Ginny find this spot and it had quickly become her favourite place in the world. She took comfort in the fact that she could stabilise things here, maintain some permanence even as the world changed around her.
Brothers had left and returned, always full of exciting stories and new skills, the world had changed, her father's hair thinned, her mother's hands gained wrinkles as she aged, but Ginny could keep this the same. She could stand in this spot through the years and see the garden and the house from the same perspective, just a little taller each time.
The twenty year old Ginny was the mirror image of the four year old Ginny. Granted it was a fairground mirror, which stretched her and changed some superficial details but in essence she was the same. More mature, longer hair and a more adult form had not changed the fact that she was still Ginny. She still loved her family, still loved her heritage and still loved the snow. In sixteen years all that had really changed was that she had added a few more loves to the list. She loved the time she had spent at Hogwarts, she loved her old school friends and she loved the man now approaching her from across the garden.
"Ginny?" Harry approached her with a bewildered expression written across his face. "It's freezing. What are you doing out here?"
Ginny smiled. "It's snowing." She said simply, as if that were explanation enough for her actions.
"It's freezing." Harry replied. Noticing the goosebumps on her bare forearms he immediately pulled off his cloak. "You're cold. Here." He put it around her shoulders and she pulled it tighter around herself gratefully.
"So, what are you doing out here?" He asked again, clearly hoping for a more sensible answer.
"I told you. It's snowing. I love standing in the snow. It relaxes me." Ginny closed her eyes and tilted her face towards the sky, smiling blissfully as the intricate flakes fell onto her shut eyelids and melted from her body heat, leaving small puddles on her face.
Harry watched her for a moment, a look of wonder on his face as he surveyed the woman he loved. She loved the snow. He had never known that about her.
They stood together in the falling snow in silence. She stared around her in wonder and, following her gaze, he could see why she was smiling so brightly. The snowflakes really were beautiful as they glittered and fell in ever widening spirals. Harry looked back at her and mentally took a photograph of her looking free and happy, with rapidly melting snowflakes in her hair.
He was adding it to his memory bank, to be remembered for the rest of his life, when she turned her gaze to him, that same exhilarated look on her face, paled by the cold.
"You're beautiful." He said and the corners of his lips upturned slightly as he took her in. Every day he was grateful that they had both survived the Final Battle when so many others had died. He was especially grateful that she had lived to love the world the way she did. She grinned at him.
She stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around him, tangling her fingers in his hair. She was happy that he was alright, that it was all over and that he didn't have the fate of the world resting on his shoulders anymore. More than anything, she was glad that he had found his way back to her.
She had been sixteen when the Final Battle had occurred and the scenes she witnessed that night still crept into her mind during unguarded moments. One of the more prominent and unpleasant images was the picture of Harry lying, seemingly dead, at the feet of Lord Voldemort.
Torture. That was the only way to describe how that picture affected her.
To see the man she loved lying lifelessly had ripped the breath from her lungs leaving her gasping through building tears. Her stomach had clenched painfully so that she could feel vomit rising in her throat. She had fought it off, clenching her eyes shut in a frantic, unsuccessful attempt to erase the image, hoping against hope that when she reopened her eyes it would all be over, it would be a hideous dream, a cruel trick of her subconscious.
But when she had opened her eyes nothing had changed. She screamed his name. The two syllables tore out of her mouth, not of fear, or anger, but a desperate attempt to remove the pain consuming her body. She needed a way to relieve it and screaming seemed as good a way as any. She found that those people who said expressing your emotions helped lessen them were lying. She felt no better and didn't see how she would ever be happy again.
A few minutes later, she had seen him, alive and fighting, and joy had filled her being at the thought that he was still breathing, his heart was still beating, his muscles were still working.
He was alive!
The joy inside her battled with terror as she watched him fight Voldemort, knowing with absolute certainty that the fight would culminate in the death of one or the other, and the odds were stacked against Harry.
Voldemort had power, age, experience and the impulse to kill on his side. Harry had goodness and love. The love he held in his heart for others and the love others had for him.
She had directed all the love in her heart towards him in those final few moments, knowing that Hermione, Ron, Luna, Neville, her family and everybody else on the side of the light were doing the same.
She had hoped he could feel it.
Standing now in his embrace, in the falling snow, Ginny knew that he could feel her love for him, because she could feel his for her. She leant back from his arms to look into his face.
"Thank you for coming back to me, Harry."
"Thank you for sharing the snow with me." He grinned and pulled her into his kiss. A short while later they pulled apart. "Let's go inside. You need to get dressed if we're going to that restaurant you like." Ginny nodded and they walked together back towards the house.
Harry's left arm pulled her close to his side and, unseen by her, his right hand crept into his pocket, fingering the small box he found there. The butterflies in his stomach disappeared when he looked at her.
He was going to ask her tonight.
He loved her and wanted to spend the rest of his life with her and tonight, she would know it.
They entered the kitchen and Ginny shook the snow from her hair and clothes, frowning slightly when she saw it melt almost instantly on the warm kitchen floor. She watched it swirl outside the window and smiled. It would come again, she was sure. It always came back. She gave Harry a quick kiss before walking out of the kitchen to go upstairs and get changed.
He watched her go with a smile and loving eyes.
So Ginny loved the snow. What else was there to learn about her? Harry hoped to spend the all the years he had before him finding out.