Come Home Soon

She should have been used to being left behind by now. If he was the "boy who lived " then she was the "girl who got left behind". She watched and waited as all of her brothers left her to go to school, the year between when Ron started school and she did had been the longest of her life, or at least until her sixth year when Harry had left her alone at Hogwarts. That year had been torture, so really this didn't compare.

Yet all this did was bring back those nights she'd spent sitting in the Gryffindor common room, staring out the window and praying that wherever Harry was he was safe. Really how was this any different? She knew a vague outline of what he was doing, but she didn't know where he was. He couldn't contact her because it wasn't safe, couldn't let her know when to expect him home because really it was a mission and he would be gone until it was completed.

So she had spent three sleepless nights, here, at the window seat of their home, with a blanket wrapped around her staring out into the snow. She had rejected her mother's offer to stay with her parents, even if it was just for this first mission, so that she wasn't alone. She'd rejected it because this is what it was, it was the first of a lifetime of missions. She'd married an Auror and it came with the territory. Her husband frequently would be gone on secret missions for an uncertain amount of time.

She kept telling herself that it was going to be easier when the Quidditch season started back up, when she had more to do then just sit at home and run every horrible outcome through her head. She even tried passing her time running through potential plays that she could suggest when practices resumed after the holidays. That train of thought only lasted so long because eventually she would decide that Harry would just have to run the play with her to see how it actually looked, and then she would be brought back to why she was awake at a ridiculous hour of the morning.

Hermione, when she had stopped by earlier in the day had suggested knitting by hand, not by magic. So now she had a newly started, well something, sitting in her lap. Mostly it looked like a pile of yarn because she hadn't committed herself to actually knitting. She did briefly wonder if this was how Weasley sweaters had come about, with her mother waiting up nights for her father to come home hours after she and her brothers had gone to bed.

Knitting wasn't helping because it kept her hands busy but not her brain. The same horrible vision would always catch her off guard as she fell into a rhythm, always the vision of Hagrid carrying Harry's limp body up from the Forbidden Forrest. If she didn't distract herself quickly enough other images would force themselves into her brain, pictures of Fred, Lupin and Tonks all lined up amongst so many other causalities.

The Second War had left them all with emotional scars but really Ginny wasn't sure if she could relive those painful memories whenever Harry was away. She wasn't sure if she could dissolve into tears every time Harry was away, how in the world was she going to be a productive member of society? And really who was she kidding? Quidditch was not going to help the matter any, how could she focus on playing when she was expecting to receive word that her husband had been killed.

Ginny swiped at the tears on her cheeks, she was being ridiculous of course. Harry hadn't gone through three years of training for nothing, and if he hadn't been adequately prepared for the mission he was sent on he wouldn't have been sent. Auror's weren't often killed in the line of duty, it happened, naturally, but they were trained so thoroughly to prevent any mishaps.

She was worrying over nothing, and tomorrow would go more smoothly, Andromeda was going to be bringing Teddy over for a couple days, he would bring a welcome distraction. Teddy brought so much joy to everyone's lives, in the weeks and months after the war, through the grieving process he had been the light. Really she should be attempting to sleep if she was going to spend the day chasing around a three-year-old. Instead of moving toward the bedroom she wrapped the quilt more tightly around her and pressed he forehead to the cold window pane, the snow outside coming down in more steady flurries.

What can only be minutes later Ginny startles awake when she's lifted from the window seat, her eyes fly open and are greeted by the sight of Harry grinning at her from only a few inches away. "You're home," she curses the way her voice cracks and hopes that Harry will attribute it to her sleep.

"I am." When Harry resettles on the window seat Ginny fights through the blanket bundled around her to wrap arms tightly around his neck.

Burrowing her face in his neck she willed herself not to cry, to breathe the familiar scent of him and just be thankful that he had made it home. "You're safe." The words are her breaking point, and the tears that she's been fighting for a majority of the last three days burst forth.

"Ginny," Harry pulls away slightly so that he can look her in the eyes, his face is creased with concern, "what is it?"

"I'm sorry," Ginny pulls her arms from around his neck and wipes at her eyes, for the second time tonight, "I'm being ridiculous. This was just harder then I thought it was going to be. I'm just so relieved that you're home and in one piece."

"Please, don't cry," his request was quiet and sweet but only seems to have the opposite effect on her. "Ginny, please, don't cry. I have a present for you." She can't help the laugh that burst through her tears, coming out more like a hiccup then anything, at the tone he had chosen to use. One that she was familiar with when Teddy was having a tantrum over something and Harry was attempting to persuade him otherwise.

"You've brought me a present back from your mission? That doesn't sound exactly legal, it's not going to jinx me or something is it?"

"If you're going to tease me about it then maybe I won't give it to you," despite his teasing words Harry pulled out a small box from inside of his cloak. It's a small oddly wrapped box and Ginny can only guess that he had done the wrapping himself.

Gently she pulled the paper off and lifted the lid of the small box, nestled inside is a sickle with a hole pierced through the middle on a delicate silver chain. "Turn it over," Harry urges off of the quizzical look Ginny has given and when she does she finds that the back isn't silver like the front but red instead."I got the idea from your mum's clock. It's not as detailed, but it will turn back to silver if I'm ever in mortal peril. I don't ever want to worry you, but especially not if there's nothing to worry about. I won't always be able to tell you where I'm going or what I'm doing but this way at least you'll know I'm okay."

"It's brilliant," Ginny whispered running her thumb over the red back, "will you put it on me?" Harry obliges as she sweeps her long red hair up off of her neck so that he can do the clasp. "I'll still worry about you when you're gone, but this will help."

"I'm glad, and hey," he grins at her, "maybe then you can sleep a little more."

Ginny frowns, she had done a miserable job at not letting Harry know just how miserable she had been in the three days that he had been gone. "Mum?"

"Hermione had left a note on my desk at the office letting me know that my paperwork could wait until tomorrow, and that I had a beautiful wife waiting up for me at home."

"Remind me to thank her the next time I see her," Ginny whispered in between kissing Harry and giggling as he once again lifted her off of the window seat.

"If you haven't been sleeping properly we should probably get you to bed," Harry tightened his hold around her and Ginny felt all of her worry melt away.

"You can take me up to bed, but you know after that cat nap I'm not feeling the least bit tired." She's laughing as her words cause Harry to jog toward their bedroom.

Harry was home and he was safe. There would be other occasions when he would be forced to leave her behind again, and, as she had said no matter how perfect the necklace was, a part of her would still worry while he was away. None of that mattered now though, because they had tonight, tomorrow, and the rest of their lives.