aurorharryjpotter:
The year 2001 was a blessed one, even if it wasn’t ideal. The trials had been swept away into the current of the past, along with the completion of his laborious and rigorous Auror training and graduating alongside Ron. The positives were clear signs of Harry’s tendency to compartmentalize. His career and legal obligations may have been satisfied for the time being, but many other factors of his life continued to hang in the balance, and an uncertain one at that. Ginny was one of these many variables, and although he tried to keep his ex-girlfriend’s likeness out of his mind as much as possible, she tended to creep into the cracks of his mind and the holes that widened when he fruitlessly tried to fall asleep at night. When Harry was on the edge of adulthood, kissing her had been the his final thought before his death. Now, she was his final thought before he finally gave into his dreams. So, when he spotted the familiar head of blazing red hair standing at the top of the walkway to his parents’ cottage (as much as he tries, he cannot naturally bring himself to call Potters College home), he though that he was trapped in one of his sleep drought induced visions of her. However, as he adjusted his glasses in an attempt to get a sharper image of her, he heard her speak. She sounded concerned, almost heartbroken, at his condition. It couldn’t be dream Ginny, then: in his dreams, the two of them were back together, perfectly content in each other’s company and the world around them. It really was her. The one who got away had, for whatever reason, returned.
She looked better than when he saw her last, but that was to be expected. He hadn’t gone to a Weasley family dinner for the past few months. That was how the pattern went: he attended a line of them before doubting the sincerity behind Arthur and Molly’s invitation, skipped a few voluntarily, then remained absent for a few more as he gathered the motivation to go again. It was a brutal cycle, but what part of Harry’s life wasn’t? Meanwhile, Ginny appeared to heal more and more every time their eyes meet, and that couldn’t be a coincidence. Her contract with the Harpies had recently made national news and for good reason. She had always been a brilliant player, one of the best on their school team. But now? Despite her flush, her expression revealed nothing but sadness. Or was it pity?
As he swallowed the crestfallen lump in his throat, he mustered a small smile. Adjusting his collar self-consciously, he said, “Yeah, I reckon I do. Work’s been brutal, I suppose.” Another pause. He wanted to hug her, to reach out and ask her if she’d let things go back to the way they once were, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. “Is there something wrong? Are you okay? Do you- if it’s not an emergency, do you want to come inside?”
.
Slowly but surely Harry had faded from Ginevra Weasley’s life since the Battle of Hogwarts had irrevocably changed both of their lives, and the witch had done nothing to stop it, and if anything, she’d encouraged it with her silence. Once the witch truly allowed herself to feel the grief over the fact that her family would never be the same, over the fact she would never hear Colin Creevey click the button on his blasted camera again, and the fact that she would be forever haunted by the image of Harry limp in Hagrid’s arms, it became all consuming. The war had taken so much from all of them, from so many people, and she felt she needed to truly feel the pain, and that she needed to remember it well. In an ironic twist, the year that followed became a blur at best for the witch, but she can remember the funerals, the cycles of pain and numbness, and the feeling of loneliness even in a home as crowded as her own. Nightmares had became a nightly affair, waking up drenched in sweat in her bed, but there was only ever one name on her lips when she woke up: Harry.
For the summer between, she lived in practical isolation with her family, hiding the broken parts the best she could for the sake of all involved, and it became all the harder to do with the boy who lived at her dinner table once a week once her mother and father had restarted that part of their routine. Eye contact was kept at a minimum, and words were even scarcer. As soon as dinner had ended, and it was acceptable enough to go back to her room with Molly raising a fit about it, she retreated to her room. Rinse, and repeat, it was all the same until her seventh year came calling and she gladly took the invitation. At Hogwarts she healed, she grew back into herself, her shiny spine showing at every opportunity. Still, when the holidays came, she still couldn’t meet eyes with the Potter, still didn’t utter a word other than the pleasantries before retreating again. Even after graduation, as she became more and more herself, the contact was limited to those dinners, and neither of them were ever brave enough to ask for more than that. In any other circumstance they could never be considered cowards, yet in those moments, Ginny couldn’t have helped but feel like the one. Then, one day, Harry didn’t show up for dinner, and then it happened again, and again, and again until the Potter coming to dinner became less of an expectation and something of the past. Sometimes a dinner, her eyes would linger on the empty spot set for Harry should he decide to make an appearance, and dwell on the past, and all the time she’d lost to the silence and her grief,
Looking at him now as he grew closer and closer though, it was almost like the missing years had never happened, except she could see how the years had started to weigh on the Potter, and she couldn’t help acknowledge it. “Work? Is that all?” The instant the scoffed words had left her lips, she cursed herself silently for them. Her mother had always chided her for speaking without thinking first, but her concern outweighed her need to be well mannered, even as some heat blossomed across her cheeks in the moments that followed. A part of her had known long before that moment that he’d always be important to her, even if she had done her best to keep him at arm’s length for so long. Some things would never change, and it was becoming more and more apparent to the Weasley that her feelings toward the boy who lived was such a thing.
The witch was prepared to assure him everything was fine ( was it really though? ) , that she was fine ( was she? ), and to come up with some sort of excuse as to why she found herself in Godric’s Hallow, let alone at his doorstep without notice when he offered her an invitation to come inside. It caught Ginny off guard to say the least, and, once again, without thinking, nodded her head. “It’s not an emergency…. but I don’t want to intrude, Harry. If it’s a bad time I’ll just come back later... you would let me know if it were a bad time, right?”
