Summary: Lately they only share goodbye kisses (or Harry and Ginny's thoughts the day before they break up at Dumbledore's funeral). Sort of missing moment.
Or I was in the mood for some angst.
Harry’s kiss speaks of goodbye, tiny silver bells announcing their relationship is almost over.
Ginny is familiar with ending a relationship. She has had two breakups, after all, and she knows they are a risk at any relationship; she even encourages them when the relationship is going sour. Clean breakups are ideal - no hard feelings, just the acceptance that things didn’t work and now everyone is better on another path.
She remembers how it was with Michael. What they had had been cute at first, even special because he was his first boyfriend and she was his. But that was it; the only thing they ever shared was that beginning.
There wasn’t many feelings between them towards the end. Michael was too occupied with his OWLs and Ginny was too occupied with her Quidditch trainings, so they barely saw each other besides some meetings at the corridor when their schedules coincided. Michael was always at the library, Ginny was always outside and neither seemed to actually miss one another.
And then her efforts in training had actually paid off when Ginny caught the snitch under Cho Chang’s nose. She’d thought that Michael valued competition enough to actually praise her for her performance, but he wasn’t in the mood - and Ginny wasn’t very patient too, she admitted later.
‘If you are so upset that I beat Cho, why don’t you run off to comfort her?’, she’d yelled, annoyed that he was judging her for being actually pleased that they had beaten Ravenclaw.
‘Do whatever you want, Michael, we are done’.
Michael had done exactly what she had suggested, and then Ginny had felt a tingle of annoyance that was the first real thing she’d felt for Michael Corner in a long time. But it was brief; she was better without him and in any case he was free to go comfort anyone he wanted.
Ginny would never discuss the need for a breakup.
Her breakup with Dean was late. Being with him had been nice for a long time, but a good snog was not enough to make a relationship last.
Things were rocky between them for a longer time than their relationship was good, but they still had feelings for each other, so they had tried. In the end, it had not been really his fault as much as it wasn’t hers; they just weren’t compatible, Ginny eventually realized. Dean wanted someone to pamper and to take care of and Ginny could handle herself just fine. She refused to be the lady in distress Dean somehow hoped she was.
Eventually she would find out that it wasn’t Dean that actually pushed her on the day of their breakup, but Ginny would not complain. Luck or not, their breakup felt necessary, a resolution of a relationship that was going nowhere and that was only damaging the friendship she once had with Dean.
Later Dean would try to talk to her, would want to rekindle their relationship. He might have lingering feelings for what they once had - but the sparkle that had first made them work together was gone.
All her previous relationships had faded so naturally.
Which is probably why this imminent breakup with Harry scares her so much.
She could understand if they had not worked out, if they found out they were better friends than lovers. But those few weeks they spent together only made evident how natural, almost effortless, it was being with Harry; it felt like they were supposed to be together. Dating Harry was a bright spot in the middle of a growing darkness, that Ginny had dared to pretend it would last.
Even knowing, she had hoped for more: they had so little time together, stolen hours that are not nearly enough. Ginny wants the time they never had to argue withhim, to find his faults and to discover what are her quirks that annoy him. She wants to have a bad day to see how they would work things out. She wants the tempestuous days that will show they can overcome any problem. She wants the good days where they will walk every little next step on their relationship.
But they won't have any of it.
Ending things with Michael and Dean had brought her relief. But breaking up with Harry is just… painful. Wrong. Heartbreaking.
Breakups are for when a relationship is bad, not for when in its best glorious days. Breakups are for when people are not in love anymore - and Harry likes her as much as she likes him, that Ginny knows, that she can see in the way he is staring at her, so desperate and so sorry.
He doesn't want to end things with her. But he will.
She can feel in the way he gazes at her these last couple days, or how he sometimes clings to her as if he fears letting her go, or how the joy in his eyes (that had glinted ever since Harry first kissed her) is gone, replaced by a quiet sorrow.
She hears in his voice as he talks to her, the ending always at the tip of his tongue. Not yet, but soon.
This would be easier, so much easier, if she didn't like him so much. If her heart wasn't beating desperately (for more, she wants more of him, always a little more) as she puts her arms around his neck like she has done hundred of times before, her lips touching his tenderly.
But Harry hesitates, his lips trembling and not moving against hers, and Ginny can already hear the parting words she knows he needs to say.
At night, when she can't sleep, she wonders how it will happen. If he is just going to tell her it's over. If he will justify. If he will cry.
'Harry', she calls him, a soft plead. 'Kiss me'.
One more time, she thinks. We will leave the goodbye for another day.
When she feels Harry finally answering her kiss - his lips are urgent, feverish, needy and so sorry - she hopes for once that another day never comes.
Ginny’s kiss tastes like goodbye.
Harry hates it because it’s all wrong.
They must have exchanged hundreds of kisses by now - there was that first glorious kiss (sunlit, Harry had thought, it tasted like sunlit mournings), the goodnight kisses that tasted of good dreams and the even better good morning kisses that spoke of the possibilities the day brought.
That chaste peck on his cheek when they were in the Great Hall and he had wished her good luck on her exam.
That take-away-your-breath, fumbling-hands, intense snog in the broom cupboard of the sixth floor that tasted like desire and curiosity. The kiss on his bed that was forbidden and wonderful until they were hastily interrupted when Dean and Seamus entered the dormitory and Ginny had to leave under the Invisibility Cloak.
The warm kiss they shared when Ginny took him to the kitchens for a midnight snack and he could savour the hot chocolate on her lips - and then next day, when they had shared a picnic on the grounds, on that bright hot summer day, he had tasted every flavour of the fruits on her lips too. Fresh and sweet and acid.
But never bittersweet like it tastes these days.
Harry knows what he has to do and still he can’t. Not yet.
Kissing Ginny is excruating as if lightning - the one in the tower that killed Dumbledore, the one marked forever in his forehead - is striking him, burning him; and yet kissing her still heals too, a phoenix song that fills him with a vain hope.
He tastes the goodbye in every kiss they share these last couple days. It’s Dumbledore’s funeral tomorrow and yet the day is warm, the sun shining on the surface of the lake, none at all caring that Dumbledore is gone and that Harry’s future is dark.
Harry looks away from the lake, his eyes falling on Ginny by his side. She is thoughtful, but when she feels his gaze, she turns to him, the corners of her mouth lifting up as if it is the most natural reaction for her to smile at him. Harry takes in the sight of Ginny - flaming red hair, warm fierce brown eyes, freckles carefully spread on her cheek (and collarbone and a little bit over her breasts, Harry knows) and he thinks this is the sight he wants to take to his heart, to last forever, even if their kisses are counted now.
She approaches him carefully and Harry reacts without even thinking, a second nature now - his arms reach to her, wrapping around her waist while Ginny throws her arms around his neck. Her lips brush over his, softly, the promise of a kiss he knows they will share in a second or too and for that second Harry hesitates, desperate for her lips and fearing it.
Every kiss they share is somehow closer to their last one. He already tastes the goodbye; he is not ready to let that goodbye leave his lips.
Maybe… maybe he can keep it there a little bit longer. Maybe if they kiss, time will stop and he will be able to live in that moment forever. But this will be the kiss that never ends.
‘Harry’, she whispers. Her eyes burn deep. ‘Kiss me’.
As if there is no tomorrow, he hears in her voice. As if it’s not the last time. As you always kissed me.
baratheonpilled
ellievsbear
areudirty
stormborns
janainaart
yousharknotpass
