A/N: I do not own anything Harry Potter
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There was stillness, thick with desperate, excruciating mug. Ginny searched the figure up and down, surveying every part of its form. She blinked. She swallowed. She dropped to the ground in a heap of darkness.
“Are you all right? Ginny, answer me, are you okay?” The voice rung through her ears like a swarm of butterflies, a powerful, physical sound.
Ginny didn’t want to open her eyes, but rather just listen to the sound of Harry’s voice. This was a strange dream, different than the rest of the ones that falsely called his return. She could feel his hands around her neck, gently raising her up, coaxing her awake, and she moved her head into the motion.
“Oh, please wake up, Gin!” The voice pleaded.
As her eyes slowly opened she saw only a fuzzy image of the Burrow.
Oh, so we’re home with the family in this one, she thought hazily.
But as the light entered more clearly she noticed a cracked picture frame on the mantel of the fireplace amongst broken bricks and splintered wood and Ginny’s heart dropped as heavily as the dresser next to her. Her eyes shot wide and she scrambled away from the touch of the stranger.
Dizzy from the sudden movement upwards she grabbed her head and noticed the figure speed towards her.
“Are you all right? Are you hurt?”
She glanced upwards to catch the vision before her. It was as if the air had been completely sucked out of her lungs and she struggled to find breath as she gazed upon the face of her husband. She stared with eyes wide open, blazing into his own, fighting to comprehend the sight.
His hair was disheveled and long and looked as if a pair of wild scissors had met it in a defeated battle, and his clothes were old and faded showing sign they had witnessed many hard days. There was a hole in his sweater on the top right shoulder where a light blue shirt was peeking out from underneath, and another towards the hem. His skin was pale as always, but healthy, and his lips were a tempting shade of pink. Oh, how she wanted to kiss them.
And then there were his eyes, his incredible, penetrating eyes, as brilliant as ever. They attacked her with a thousand unspoken words and it was nearly a minute before she could rip herself away from the gaze.
The air was thick with tension and Ginny felt the walls inching closer and closer, surrounding herself and the figure before her with mere specs between. The room was spinning, what was she seeing? Was she going crazy? Was she hallucinating? Harry had been dead for nearly eight years; this could not actually be his solid being.
“Ginny…” the man spoke again. Ginny’s heart was pounding through her chest.
“Who are you?” She asked, fear spilling over her insides.
“Gin, it’s me…” he said calmly as he stepped forward, picking his foot up over a large board on the floor.
“Harry? That’s not possible. You’re, I mean, Harry, is dead! Tell me who you really are because I am not afraid to use this wand!” She said sternly, pointing her weapon directly at his face.
”No, Gin, please, it’s really me. I can explain everything,” he said calmly again.
Ginny wanted so badly to believe that this was really happening, but it was so…strange…so unreal, and she felt her body becoming weak with fear. The adrenaline was overwhelming and she had to fight to stand, but she was certain she would not let this person notice.
You never show weakness to an opponent, she thought.
“I know this seems impossible, totally implausible, but it’s really me, if you’d just give me a chance,” Harry whispered.
There was something very gentle in his voice, something that made Ginny desperate to run and throw her arms around him with all her might, but Harry was dead, this could not be real!
Every sort of thought raced through her mind as Ginny struggled for possibilities. Was she dreaming? Was she just imagining this entire scene? Perhaps she would awake any moment by the sound of James’ voice telling her it was time to leave for the train.
Then a terrible image struck her chest at the thought that this could in fact be a real figure before her dressed as Harry by the handiwork of polyjuice potion.
The never ending saga of that mixture, she thought quickly.
It seemed to creep up in all the mysteries she could remember, but it didn’t make sense that someone would pretend to be her husband now when the war was long over, and besides, where would they have found Harry’s hair? She shook the thought away.
Ginny didn’t know what to think, what to believe, but she was already exhausted from crying and didn’t have the strength to take on this vision, or person - whatever it was. She lowered her wand in exasperation and whimpered into the dim room.
“Why are you doing this to me? Please, my husband died long ago and I would be a fool to believe you are him. Tell me who you really are and get on with your business.”
Get on with your business…kill me if that’s what you’re here to do, she thought darkly.
Ginny slapped herself with her mind and realized that years of disbelieving and not trusting anyone would do to make anyone this cynical.
Back to the moment, don’t let yourself fall out…she begged herself.
Harry stepped forward again and Ginny could feel a sort of electric warmth begin to fill her chest, the same way it used to when Harry would touch her. She shook it off quickly and raised her wand again, prodding the man to stop moving.
“I’m Harry Potter, your husband, please, you have to believe me. I was kidnapped by Bellatrix Lestrange when Voldemort was killed, I never...I never died…” he said quietly.
“What the hell are you talking about?!” Ginny said, now enraged at the intruder. “I’m asking you one more time, tell me who you are or I will use this!”
“What can I say to make you believe me? I don’t know what to tell you, what to say! How can I convince you that I am who I say?”
Ginny watched his eyes carefully, searching for lies, but she could find none. There was nothing but sincerity and fierceness, and a familiar glimmer that always seemed to arise when Harry looked at her with passionate concede. Oh, she wanted so badly to believe that this man was really the best friend she’d been so lonely without.
“Did it feel this way when you had to tell your parents?” he muttered under his breath.
Ginny shot a frightened look at him. “What?” She asked, her wand still at the ready.
Harry looked up, wondering first if he should continue, then secondly if he should pull for his own wand. He knew what magic his wife was capable of and didn’t want to be on the receiving end of her anger should she so choose to react.
“What did you say?” She called at him again.
Harry stared into her eyes.
“I said, did it feel this way when you had to tell your parents…” his voice metered down at the last words and he watched her very carefully, trying to read her next move.
Ginny pause and stared him down hard. Immediately she had known what he was asking her, but she refused to acknowledge the question.
It had become common understanding throughout the wizarding community that Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley had married secretly during the war and conceived a child shortly thereafter and Ginny, in her careful consideration, decided to give nothing away in regards to intimate details of the situations that could separate a real Harry from an impersonator.
“Tell them what?” She asked bitterly, obviously knowing full well the meaning.
“I knew you were bothered by it, upset with yourself, but I never fathomed just how really horrible it felt to deliberately hurt the ones you love.” His voice shook with evident pain.
Ginny felt like her chest was going to implode.
“I promised you I would never leave you…”
Stop, oh please stop, she thought desperately. I can’t handle much more of this.
“I don’t know why our lives travel down these…these terrible paths, but sometimes there’s no other way to turn. We have to do things we don’t want to do in order to protect others, even when those decisions lead to pain and heartbreak for the very ones you’re trying to protect from it.”
Her eyes began to grow red with the strain of holding back and she found herself looking away more and more. She could barely catch his eyes without loosing control.
“But in the end, when the time is come to make that final choice, you can only do one thing,” he paused breathlessly, “you do what is necessary.”
Ginny rapped her cold fingers on her wand, tapping them against the wood. There they were again, those dangerous words, and hearing them waver from his mouth sent an eerie remembrance down her spine.
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Harry set a bowl of chicken broth and carrots down in front of Ginny with a forced smile. She could tell he wished it was more, especially with her feeding a new baby, but there just wasn’t much food available. She pulled her eyes away from the sleeping boy and lifted a spoonful into her mouth.
“It’s wonderful, Harry, thank you,” she said with an earnest grin.
His faced glowed with the compliment. Ginny was so selfless, so understanding; he didn’t know how he’d ever gotten so lucky to be the man she married, and under these circumstances no less.
He flicked his eyes towards the tiny crib where his son lye in a dream-filled slumber and his heart filled with even more content. Ginny noticed the direction of his gaze and spoke softly into the room.
“He’s so calming, isn’t he? The way he just sleeps, undisturbed, peaceful.”
Harry looked at her and nodded. “I didn’t think it was possible to love anyone this much, Ginny. I thought I knew what love was with you, but this, this is something indescribable.” He took another sip of broth and smiled. “I didn’t think I could ever be quite so happy.”
Ginny let out a hearty smile in response and blushed at the compliment. Harry wasn’t always this sentimental, but with James finally born he’d been exceptionally soft. She reached out her right hand and set it on his left, which was sitting comfortably next to his bowl.
“We’ve had to make a lot of difficult choices, and I’ve questioned them more than once, as I know you have as well, but it’s times like these that remind me exactly why I’ve chosen the path I have.”
Harry blushed a bit this time, but stiffened himself up. He flipped his hand to let hers slip into his palm and clasped shut around it. They stayed for just a moment, watching each other, smiling, and then let go to return to their dinner.
“Any new developments?” Ginny asked casually.
“No, nothing to report anyway.”
Ginny took another spoonful or two and listened to the creaks in the air. Then she heard Harry swallow something she was certain was frustration and he continued.
“I’ve had the hardest time getting this fifth horcrux right. I thought I had it, thought I was going to finish it off for sure, but then, as you know, it was not it. That was the fourth time I’d gotten it wrong.” He let out a gutted sigh. “They’re such riddles, Gin, so complicated and intricate. It really makes me wish I had Dumbledore’s brain instead of my own.”
Ginny giggled slightly at her flustered husband. “You’re mind is just as capable, if not more, Harry, don’t be so hard on yourself. You’ll find it, you’ll get it right.”
“Yes, but you would think after so long I would know what I was doing!” He dropped his hand down in irritation.
Ginny had obviously hit him in a sore place, although he was not normally so bitter when discussing the subject. It’d been more like business in previous conversations.
“Harry, of course you know what you’re doing, otherwise you would never have found the others.” She said in an attempt to comfort him, but she could see his mind beginning to churn with unpleasantries. “Harry, what’s wrong? You’ve never been so bothered about this before.”
Harry stared at his bowl of ever-cooling soup, feeling upset with himself for an increasing mount of mistakes. Ginny watched him intently, hoping he would let her into his thoughts.
“Harry?” She prodded again at his sustained silence.
He looked up at her with saddened eyes. “It’s been so long, Gin. Too long.”
“What are you talking about, Harry? The war? Yes, it’s been going on for a while, but-“
Harry cut her off quietly. “No, it’s not just about the war, Gin.”
She waited for him to continue, but he’d turned his eyes back to the table.
“Harry, what is this about then?” His shoulders began to slump forward and Ginny moved her chair to lean into him, letting their knees meet front to front. He invited her touch, but didn’t reciprocate. “Please, Harry, let me know.”
Harry didn’t respond right away, but let his eyes begin to wander around the room, finally resting on James. He sighed again, this time much quieter and with a different, deepened sadness.
“It’s about the world, our homes, our livelihood…” he waited and breathed deeply, “and it’s about people, Gin. It’s about Charlie, and Bill…my parents…Dumbledore, Moody, everyone.”
Ginny smoothed his hair and noticed the direction of his stare. “And it’s about me? And James?” She questioned dutifully.
Harry shot his eyes to hers so quickly it almost frightened her, and she waited for some sort of affirmative notion. She could almost see his entire mind behind the glare of green in his eyes, but there were certain parts he had hidden so well even she could not find them.
“Harry what’s wrong? Please, I haven’t yet figured out how to hear everything you say in silence. Most, yes, but not all…”
“It’s not funny, Ginny!” He said sternly.
Ginny was surprised at his reaction and wondered how he could change so quickly from the gushing father he been a few minutes ago to the angry man he was now. He dropped his spoon onto the table letting it clang against the wood with an unexpected resound and Ginny sat back into her chair.
“Harry…” she spoke softly.
“I’m taking too long and Voldemort keeps killing. Your family…our friends…how much longer? How many more have to die for my incompetence?”
Ginny scoffed. “I won’t have you talking like that, Harry Potter! You are far from incompetent if I’ve ever seen! Do you think anyone else could have done a better job than you?”
Harry ran his fingers through his hair as he so often did when he was upset or nervous and looked away.
“Dumbledore was a much greater wizard…”
Ginny cut him off him with yet another scoff.
“Rubbish, Harry. Besides, this was never his battle, it has always been yours. You can’t rely on someone else to give you the answers, which are answers that you already know, anyway.” She watched him defiantly.
He looked up, much more gently this time, watched her firm gaze, then looked at James once again.
“I can’t lose him, Gin,” he said so quietly Ginny could barely catch it.
Ginny didn’t respond and kept her eyes on his face.
“I’ve lost so many people already, and it hurts enough at that, but to lose my son…to lose our son…how can a person survive it?”
Suddenly it felt like a thousand knives were ripping Ginny’s chest open and she dropped her eyes to the floor. She clenched her teeth tightly to suffocate the sobs that were pushing her throat to release and wound her fists until they hurt.
How could a person survive the death of their child…her parents would know all about it. Guilt poured through her veins and she felt as if she could scream for the tension. How could she have done such a thing? Let her parents think she had been murdered, it was awful.
Harry wondered how it was possible to handle the loss of James; Ginny wondered how it was possible for her parents to handle the loss of her own faux death.
She never told Harry just how much she dwelled on those final words, “we do what is necessary”, because she had never wanted him to think she regretted her choice more than was obvious. Naturally they had discussed the recourse of their actions, including that particular decision, but she loved her family, missed them and needed them, although she simply braved it and never spoke of her feelings.
Harry noticed her position and took a second to register the swift transition from blazing motivator to shrunken mouse. Then it struck him like a book to the kisser and he immediately felt like a complete git.
“Oh, baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean-“
“No, Harry, don’t say it.” She said to the ground, refusing to look up because she knew the second she saw his face the tears would flow freely. “Please, don’t say anything.”
Harry replaced his own worries with those of his wife and set a tender hand upon her back. Ginny shuttered at the touch and stood from her chair, picking up her barely-eaten bowl of soup and set it in the chipped porcelain bucket displayed as their sink.
James let out a tiny squeak, a bubble or two, and then began to cry.
“Ginny, I know it’s hard-“
She walked to the hand fastened crib and pulled the boy into her arms, cutting Harry off as she moved.
“You’ll find the last horcruxes and you will win this war, Harry, no need to fuss. I believe in you.”
She shot one quick look at him and noticed he had a desperate look about his face as if to apologize, but he had no reason to. She laid James on her shoulder, holding on with the joint of her arm to keep her hands free.
“Harry…” she said as she began to unfasten the buttons on her shirt to feed the howling baby, “I knew what I was doing…” she looked away, feeling like an even more belligerent liar, “I did what had to be done.”
“Right, we did what was necessary,” Harry added.
There they were, those words again, those stabbing, painful words. The one phrase to seal her future, the one phrase to devastate her family.
Her chest swelled with pain and she felt her body begin to shake. Her fingers fumbled about the fourth button and she felt James slipping down her shoulder.
Sometimes it only takes the smallest, most insignificant moment to break every force within your body, and this was that instant.
Tears began to flood down her cheeks and Harry stood, uncertain of what action to take.
“Why did I say that…I’m such a horrible daughter…how could I do that…they loved me…I betrayed them…” she spit through sobs.
Harry jumped towards her and carefully took James from her then pulled her into a tight embrace. Her face buried into his chest and Harry kissed the top of her head, holding gently to his son with one arm and her shoulders with the other.
He couldn’t quite speak; what words could he say? Ginny continued to cry until she realized that James was doing the same. She looked up at Harry who was trying to bounce him with the very little range of movement he had and pulled back quickly.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said, finished the buttons. Harry looked a bit embarrassed, wishing he’d been able to stop the crying so Ginny could do some of her own, which she noticed as she sat back into the chair at the table. Harry handed James to her and rubbed his cheeks in contemplation.
“I don’t know what else we can do, Gin. I miss your family, too. I miss Ron and Hermione-”
“I know, Harry, but at least they don’t think you’ve died. At least they know you’re safe and don’t have to spend the night crying because their children are being murdered left and right…” she checked James then looked back to Harry. “No parent should ever have to live through the death of a child.”
Silence ensued and Harry was without rebut. He wanted to comfort Ginny, but wasn’t sure how, and wasn’t sure she would accept it. With the recent events emotions had been haywire in the Potter hideout and both he and his wife were upset at the tiring journey and unfortunately taking it out on each other.
“The day will come, Gin, it won’t be this way forever.” His original pains struck again. “It won’t be so much longer…”
Ginny waited to reply, contemplating apologies and wise words. James was falling asleep again and Ginny let a finger graze his cheek.
“I know this is just as hard on you, Harry. I don’t mean to say I am the only one who’s battling with loss.” Ginny looked to Harry who had sat back in his own chair. “I suppose it’s just, well, now that we have our own child it makes the reality that much greater. I never understood before the way my parents felt about me, the magnificent expanse of emotion, and now, the love I have for James, and the thought of losing him…I can actually imagine how terrible it must have been to hear that another child was gone.”
Harry nodded. Again he was uncertain of exactly what to say; every response that pattered through his mind seemed so trivial.
“I do believe in this, though,” she added in a tender voice, “in us…in this family.”
Harry smiled at her and noticed just how beautiful she looked like this, with James at her chest. Ginny smiled back and took in a deep breath.
“Mostly, Harry, I believe in you. Voldemort is not actually the greatest wizard to ever live, nor was Dumbledore. It’s you, Harry, and only you are capable of defeating him, believe in that.”
He stood up and laid a soft kiss on her lips then placed one on James’ head. “It’s only because of you, Ginny Potter,” he whispered into her ear.
She touched his jaw to move his face to her own and kissed him again. “We do what is necessary…together. Painful, dreadful, difficult…I made a promise to you and I will keep it.”
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Ginny stared at him a bit longer this time, contemplating her options. Questions swirled about her stomach as if a hurricane was erupting inside and she began to feel similar to the way she had when she was first pregnant with James, horribly ill.
Ginny didn’t want to be made a fool, but there was something deep down that was leading her to grab hold of his words and believe them. Her breath was getting quicker and her arm was falling with weakness.
She was simply too tired to run, or to fight, or to even argue. Her legs felt like jelly anymore and her stomach was now ready to launch breakfast onto the floor. Her nerves were no longer spiked with fear, but hope, and a hope so desperate it seemed as though it was blocking the oxygen to her brain.
Why did she think he could be telling the truth, this was such an outlandish sort of possibility. She opened her mouth to ask any sort of question that might come off her lips, but Harry cut her off.
“James takes good care of you, you’ve raised him well, Gin.”
“What are you talking about?” She asked, wishing he would leave the innocent boy out of this.
“My father’s invisibility cloak has served me well,” he said inching his way closer.
“What?” Her jaw clenched.
There were very few people who knew of Harry’s cloak, all of but three who were dead, and the three survivors would not have shared such valuable information with anyone else.
“I’ve seen you cry, too many times to count, I think. It’s always when James is asleep or away because you don’t want him to ever think he makes you unhappy. You say that, out loud.”
Ginny didn’t blink.
“And you pull out an old jumper you knitted for me for Christmas the first year we were married, yellow with brown collar and hem. You knew I would hate the color, but it was the only yarn you could scrounge and you were determined that I needed a new one.”
A mallet slammed into Ginny’s chest and her eyes began to fill with tears. She was certain no one else knew about this, she’d kept that sweater hidden from everyone, even James, who quite liked to put on his dad’s old clothes and traipse about pretending to be Harry.
He stepped even closer. He was only six feet away now…
“You have a box that you keep in a floorboard in your closet of old letters I’d sent to you and you read a particular one over and over again. In it I tell you that I think of you as I stare into the fireplace and wonder how long it will be until we can sit before it together. It reminds me of your hair, as well as your determination, and I say there’s nothing more incredible then the way you fight for what you believe in.”
Harry paused for a moment and grinned. “I meant that from my very gut, you know,” he added.
He was only a few feet from her now.
Tears began to drip down her pale cheeks as her breathing turned into separate, sloppy inhalations to try and simmer the crying. How was this possible? Why did she believe him…but there was no one else who knew these things…no one could…
“Please give me a chance to explain,” he said stepping so close Ginny could feel his breath.
Even more tears bursting forth from her already tired eyes, Ginny felt her shoulders hunch forward as she cried into the air,
“I want this to be real, but I’m just…just so afraid…that…if I believe you it will all end…and I will be left hurting even worse than I was before…”
Harry reached his arms out to catch her as she collapsed into them. He threw his hands around her back as Ginny held her own close to her chest and he kissed the top of her head.
Ginny took in a deep breath between cries to notice that he smelled of wood and smoke, like he’d been sitting in front of a fire. But there was also a familiar smell to him, that of grass and sweat, like he’d just been riding his broom around all afternoon. It was soaked into his clothing and the soft worn fabric set gently across her cheek.
Harry rubbed her back softly, never releasing his grip. He had wanted to hold her like this again for so many years.
Ginny leaned into the sensation, feeling surprisingly warm and safe. No one else ever touched her like this, she thought as his fingers found their way to her shoulders. His arms were so strong and comforting and she listened to his heart beat through his powerful chest. It was pounding a gentle, but rushed rhythm like her own and she recognized it immediately.
This was not a stranger, this was her Harry.
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A/N: This is not my favorite chapter because it’s hard to make Harry’s return just right. Hopefully it’s not too terrible, please keep the reviews coming! Thank you, faithful readers!