Author's Chapter Notes:
A character exercise originally started for my other H/G fics. I decided to go a different way, but I had all this dialogue that I was itching to use. I couldn't just leave it sitting on my computer.....R/R
I didn't know that it was going to hurt that much.
I didn't know that it would hurt at all to be honest.
Well, at least for the reasons it did. I knew that breaking it off was going to be hard. I half expected her to kick and scream and fight me on it all the way. Part of me wanted that to happen. Part of me wanted a legitimate excuse to not leave her besides my own selfishness. I guess we don't get everything we ask for.
She was calm the entire time. Calm. Not one emotion on her face, almost as if she knew that it was coming, or that she didn't care. That's what made it hurt. Because when I look back now, I can't help but wonder, did she care? About me that is, about us? Her indifference makes me wonder.
The fact that she isn't here, makes me wonder. The Ginny Weasley that I know would have stuffed herself into my rucksack if she would have fit in order to sneak along to help.
But she didn't.
The Ginny Weasley I thought I knew would have tried to convince me over and over again to let her go with.
But she didn't. And I expected her to, I wanted her to. Is that so terrible? That I wanted her to come with? I know it would have been dangerous, that much was obvious, but at least she would have been here, with me. I would have known if she was okay, out here, I have no idea.
It eats me up inside, every time I see her small dot on the Marauders' map, not knowing how she's doing. Yeah, she's alive, but is she happy? Angry? Sad? Love-sick?
But I don't let myself dwell on that. She doesn't love me, that much is obvious.
I wish things weren't so complicated, that things could be the way they were in the spring. Then again, that wasn't exactly simple. But she made it worth the complications, now, well my life is just plain complicated and hard. Harder without her around.
I think about her all the time. Is she thinking of me? Has she given up on me? Is she with, well, someone? Else, that is. Does she love me?
But she doesn't do any of those things, or at least I don't think she does. I can hope, but I don't know, that much is obvious. She's what I think about the most, who I dream about, who I'm risking my life for everyday. Is that so incomprehensible? That a seventeen year old is fighting to beat the darkest man in the world, not for glory, not out of vengeance, but for, well, his best mate's little sister?
It's crazy, that much is obvious, but that's my life now. I'm fighting for "after". If there is even an after for me. I don't let myself hope that there will be, just incase it doesn't happen. When I do let myself think about the future, I can't help but wonder if I will be the same, is she will be.
I could die tomorrow, I could die today. I just wonder what she would think if I did, would she cry? Be relieved? I don't want her to cry, well because I love her.
I think that much is obvious.
Have you ever felt as if the world is coming down around you? As though your life, the way that you knew it, was falling all around you and there was nothing you could do to stop it? No matter how hard you tried? No matter whom you were losing in the process?
Well, I have.
Seeing him lying in Hagrid's arms was the closest I have ever felt to the world ending. To the world simply ceasing to exist, to having to feel myself crashing, slowly from the inside.
Because he had promised.
Promised me that he would be here, that he would hold me again, that he would whisper my name, telling me everything was going to be okay. He told me that he was going to come back, that he was doing this for me, and I didn't say anything. I felt like I was being punished for it now, because things weren't okay, they never would be okay again.
I felt like screaming. Screaming so loud and hard that my body would just stop working, that my heart and brain would just shut down so I could stop thinking. Stop loving, stop my eyes from seeing his limp body look like a rag doll, never to be awoken. I needed those things; I needed to just stop thinking.
To stop thinking about the last time I had seen him alive, the last time I had kissed him, held him. The last time I had said his name, the last time I saw him run his hand through his unruly hair because he was nervous. I needed to stop thinking about how I never told him I loved him, about how I never got to say goodbye.
How I never got to hear those words repeated through his mouth.
That was all I had asked out of life in the past year, that I wouldn't lose anyone in this war. A big thing to ask for, I know. How, out of my group of family and friends, could I have expected to not lose a single person that I cared about? Other smaller families had lost most of its members and continued to fight through the grieving. Deep down though, I knew it would be the hardest if I had lost him. It would be the hardest to keep fighting for our cause if he was gone, the ray of hope for the Wizarding World, and for me.
It made me angry sometimes to see others depend on him. It seemed that I should be the only one that was allowed to run to him for comfort, for reassurance, even in the form of a lie. It didn't seem fair that I had to share Harry Potter with the world.
They didn't need him like I did. They don't need to see him smile to be able to go on with life, to see his face. They just want a person who could be seen as a hero, far from their own families and hearts.
It's really selfish if you ask me.
They expected him to risk his whole life, his family and friends, for all of them, people he had never met. Somewhere inside me, I knew that he would never have turned down those people, just because that's who he was.
And I would never expect him to. But all those people don't know how much I need him, how much I'm sacrificing in the process.
His hair, his eyes, his laugh, his smile, the way he could hug me and I never wanted him to let go, the way he kissed me and I felt complete. All things I took for granted for that short spring, things I would now give anything to see and feel again. Isn't it enough that I have suffered through an entire year without getting to tell him anything? Without getting to see him?
And now, I never will?
And it's at times like these I that I think, why me? Why did I have to be the one that fell in love with the Boy-Who-Lived? Why couldn't I have fallen in love with Michael or Dean, sturdy, solid, always there?
But at the same time I think, it wouldn't have been the same. I knew it never could have been the same with anyone but Harry.
That scared me more than anything, that as I saw him lying in Hagrid's arms that I wouldn't be happy again.
Which is why my heart leapt with hope when his body was suddenly gone. Had he escaped? Was he faking the whole time? I knew him well enough that he couldn't pretend that long, not without cracking a grin, or an involuntary twitch. And somewhere deep down I knew, firmly, without a question, one single thing.
He was alive.
Hours later, when everything was over, Voldemort's cold body had been gone for several hours, the Great Hall filled with people, the starry night reflected ever so gracefully upon the ceiling, I felt him. I felt him enter the room and come and stand behind me. And even before the words had left his mouth, I had closed my eyes in resolve, standing up from my chair wrapping my arms around him. Squeezing him as hard as I possibly could, wishing that I could do it harder. Because if I could feel him, rest my head on his chest and hear his heart beating, I would know that he was alive. After a few seconds of shock, I felt his arms come around me, somewhat hesitant, crushing me closer to him. Tears left my eyes, soaking his clean shirt as I breathed in deep, memorizing the smell of him forever in my mind. His head moved slowly down next to mine, his lips tickling my ear with his slow breaths before whispering into my ear.
My breath caught in my throat. His voice was still resonating through my head and yet all of a sudden, it was just me and him.
"Want to go for a walk?" he asked hesitantly, as though I might refuse.
I nodded silently as he let go of me, only for a second before taking my hand in his and leading us out of the Great Hall and out into the cool summer night.
He didn't look at me at first, he didn't have to. I could practically hear him trying to form the words that would fix everything between us. I let him, because I honestly had no idea what to say. No, I would let him have his say, and then I would have mine, he owed me that much.
"Ginny," he started, stopping abruptly, still holding my hand firmly in his own.
"Yeah," I replied, looking into his eyes for the first time in nearly a year, brown meeting green. Bracing myself for the words that could swing our relationship either way. We were on the edge of a precipice, certain ones would be a helping hand, keeping us stable, and others would send us toppling over.
For what felt like at least minute we just stood there, looking at each other, I mean really looking, for the first time in what felt like forever. His hand had come around to cup the side of my face, pushing my curly locks out of the way, and it hadn't broken my gaze. I rubbed my fingers over the back of his hand that was still in mine.
He put his face closer to mine, the change shocking me, but not enough for me to pull away. Our foreheads met, and I closed my eyes, feeling his breathe sweep across my face. His lips were so close to mine, barely touching.
"I'm so sorry, Ginny, you have no idea," he whispered against my lips, before finally crushing them against mine.
I don't know what made me do it to be honest. How did I know if she even remotely felt the same way I did? But I couldn't stand that close to her, after not seeing her for over a year, and not kiss her. She was a little shocked, I have to admit. More than I had expected.
Then again, she responded a lot more than I had expected. I hadn't expected anything, I was being gentle, loving, just incase this was my last shot. When her hands began to roam over my back and through my hair, well, it was the closest I had ever been to feeling at home.
Home was a girl that I hadn't seen in a year. The girl I loved.
Well if it wasn't obvious now, I don't know what is.
It was more than all the others. More than Dean, more than Michael, more than my lonely dreams had been able to create in the months of absence. It was gentle, his lips caressing my own, savoring every movement, I just a willing participant.
I moved my hands into his hair, feeling the softness of it within my grasp, his hand sliding ever so slowly down my side and I had never felt more alive than in that moment. When he pulled away, dipping in again for one last kiss, he opened his eyes expectantly, as if I was going to slap him.
"Why do you keep looking at me as though I'm going to run away?" I asked without really thinking.
"I don't know, I guess that's my job isn't it?" he replied, a smile playing at his lips, seriousness still playing across his face.
A small laugh escaped my lips, curving them into a smile, as I looked at the ground. He put his finger under my chin, pulling my face back up.
"Gods, I've missed you," he spoke rather reverently. "Everyday."
I smiled again, "You never did answer my question."
"I know that I don't deserve you, I never have, and I know that you don't feel about me the same way I do about you. I mean you didn't even try to stop me. You were completely calm, calm while I was breaking up with you. I keep expecting you'll remember you don't care about me as much as I care about you, and I won't see you again. I know I would deserve it, because you didn't, doesn't mean it's what I want. "
"What do you want then? Can you be with me now? Is that okay with you?" a slight tone of sarcasm rose into my voice before I could stop it. The back of my mind remembering.
"Ginny, you know it's not like that, never has been," he answered, almost pleading. "Do you know that when I was breaking up with you, I wished that you would throw a fit, stop me, tell me no? That I wished you had continuously begged me to let you come with so that I wouldn't be selfish. But you didn't, so it doesn't matter."
"What do you mean it doesn't matter? I didn't say anything because I thought that was what you wanted!" I was practically hysterical now.
"Of course it's not what I wanted! I wanted you, Gin. That's all I ever wanted. But, I was stupid okay? I think that is pretty obvious. I needed you to say it back to me, Ginny. And you didn't.
"What was I supposed to say, Harry? I love you? How about that? Does that change things?" I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in exasperation. And then I realized what I had said.
The only coherent thought that passed through my head was, did she just say that? . I felt myself staring, still as a statue, unable to say anything. I had been wrong. Completely and utterly wrong, about everything.
And I thought everything was so damn obvious in my life.
Harry was silent for a moment and then started, "You, you what?"
I froze. I closed my eyes, and then opened them slowly. "I love you, Harry. I thought it was pretty obvious," I said, confessing a lifetime's worth of emotions in a few simple words.
"Really?" Harry said in disbelief, as though I was lying to him. I simply nodded in response.
He put his arms around me, the last thing that I had expected him to do. To be perfectly honest, I had expected to run. Like he said, that was his job. I hugged him back; after all, I had just put my heart on the line.
"I love you, Ginny."
He had whispered the words so quietly into my ear that I thought I had imagined them. I jumped a little when he said them; his breathe caressing my ear, the only evidence that he had said anything.
"Wow, I thought it was pretty damn obvious," Harry responded to my surprise.
"Anything but, Harry, anything but."