Another View
Chapter one: Goodbye
I expected it to hurt more than it did; a lot more. I stood by the lake after Harry’d left, eyes drilling into the depth of the lake, mind blank. There was pain, but it wasn’t nearly as sharp as I’d expected, just a numb sense of loss.
I don’t know how long I sat there for “ it felt like an eternity “ but this time round at least I knew I couldn’t kid myself; this time I knew I would actually have to get over Harry. It’s harder than it sounds. Have you ever had a crush on someone for so long that you like them not because you find them attractive any longer but because it’s comforting? It was one of those situations. I’d liked Harry so long that I hadn’t known how to let go and had still hankered after him silently when I was with Michael and Dean, which sort of sabotaged the relationship. Besides getting over a crush without actually going out with them is nearly impossible because they remain hero figures in your head, dreamlike fantasies as opposed to real people. This time it would be different.
“Ginny,” a voice called gently. I woke up and realised how cold it had become; the sun was a strip of burnt orange peeking from behind the trees and the sky was deep blue. I must have been there ages. “Ginny,” my mother repeated, beckoning me forward. It was over. They were leaving.
I slowly stood up and followed the rest of the family “ I say rest, it was now my parents and me. Ron had gone with Harry and Hermione to search for the Horcruxes, and I realised with a jolt of horror that I was the only child left at home. The nest had emptied in a shockingly short space of time and I suspected that the tears running profusely down my mothers cheeks were not all out of grief for Dumbledore. I hugged her, reminding her that her nest wasn’t quite empty yet.
Just before we left I watched Harry, Ron and Hermione stalk off in an opposite direction. I silently said goodbye to Harry.
“Will Ron be coming back for the wedding?” I asked Mum.
“Oh, yes, he can think again if he thinks he’s missing that,” she said emphatically. “And I daresay he’ll bring Harry and Hermione, but… well, the wedding isn’t for another week and they’ll have things to do before coming back for that.” It was sad that she wasn’t marching after Ron and forbidding him to land himself in danger “ but then we’ve all had to accept that situations have changed. And Mum had, to an extent, got used to letting go of her children. I scowled at the proud, lonely silhouette of Percy over by the river. He reached up and pulled his hand through the fiery vermillion hair that was the only thing we had in common.
“Come on, kitten,” Dad said, leading the way inside to the fireplace that would take us home. I followed gradually, saying goodbye the brief life of happiness I’d lived with Harry and awaiting what would come now.
* * *
I didn’t see Harry again until the day of the wedding.
I’d been woken up at an ungodly hour by an overexcited Fleur.
She pulled my quilt off me with the deftness of a skilled magician and ordered me to get up immediately, we didn’t have much time!
“It’s half past five!” I hissed, curling away from the light of her wand.
“I know! Zere eez only six hours left!” she cried, dragging me by the ankle. I tried to bite her hand away but Fleur was on a mission and freakishly strong for so willowy a creature.
Five hours, much moaning, and a hell of a lot of tweaking later, I stood in front of the mirror in unmitigated horror.
“You look so pretty,” Fleur sighed, standing back and admiring with her hands clasped together melodramatically. I eyed myself critically in the mirror, taking in the garish gold silk that swept outwards, the layers and layers of frills, the big puffy arms, and the sparkly glitter.
“I look horrendous,” I corrected. I had found out yesterday that, quite shockingly, Fleur had less fashion sense than a straight man; people just didn’t notice because she could get away with wearing a monkey carcass and still look stunning. She was saved from an awful wedding dress by her mother insisting she wear her old dress: a gorgeous, floaty ivory gown that skimmed across her figure neatly. I was less lucky.
“You must wear zis flower in your ’air,” Fleur cooed, brandishing a giant yellow rose.
“No thanks.”
“But you must, eet will be lovely,” she insisted. Gritting my teeth, I allowed her to poke the thing into my hair which was done up in ridiculously elaborate curls: think eighteenth century France, Marie Antoinette style. I sighed and reminded myself that it was Fleur’s wedding.
“Mon Dieu,” Gabrielle moaned, sidling up beside me. She cast Fleur a begging look and went to pull her own yellow rose out of her hair.
“Non, non,” Fleur cried, grabbing her hand. “C’est parfait comme celui!” Gabrielle sighed in trepidation which I took to mean the ghastly flowers were staying. Just then Mum entered wearing a hat that bigger than most boats.
“Don’t we look lovely!” she squealed, clasping her hands together à la Fleur.
“Yes,” I lied.
“Do you have something old, new, borrowed and blue?” Mum asked Fleur anxiously.
“Yes,” she answered proudly. “My dress eez my muzzer’s and so eet eez old; my shoes I bought just last week myself,” she lifted her dress so that we could see them “ absolutely tragic but at least they would be hidden, “My tiara, of course, eez borrowed and for blue I ’ave my, ah, mes boucles d’oreille?” she pointed to pale blue crystals in her ear.
“Your earrings,” I guessed.
“Oui,” she nodded. “I am all set “ zat eez an eenglish idiom Bill taught me last week.”
Mum adjusted her hat, a little misty-eyed. For once, I noticed, she was not perpetually glancing at our Weasley clock whose hands were all characteristically pointing straight up.
“Well, let’s get going then,” she announced as though proposing an hour’s drive; the wedding was only being held in the field behind our house in a great silk marquee.
We trooped obediently out of the house. The sun was a little too warm and I could tell that it would soon be uncomfortable in my layers and layers and layers.
I looked up towards the marquee which was already overflowing with people I hardly knew and didn’t like. My heart jumped when I saw Ron, Harry and Hermione trotting towards. Harry was looking determinately away from me which caused a twinge of annoyance beneath the numbness. Did he think that ignoring me would make it any easier?
“You know, in the Muggle world the bride arrives last, as the ceremony starts,” Hermione said conversationally.
“Why on earth would they do that?” Mum cried.
“Well, the groom isn’t supposed to see the bride before they’re married.”
“That’s a little bit silly; he already knows what she looks like.” Hermione shrugged.
It was a beautiful wedding really. Fleur floating gait didn’t seem so ridiculous in this particular situation. I tried my best to look elegant gliding behind her, clutching her fine ivory train. Bill stood at the front, beaming. Not even his scars could mask his happiness and excitement.
“It was a wonderful ceremony,” Hermione admitted later, gesturing me aside.
“Yeah, even though Uncle Demetrius started snoring halfway through the vows,” I smiled.
“That didn’t spoil it much, your Mum whacked him with her handbag before he’d been asleep very long,” Hermione said. “But I’ve been meaning to speak to you: are you okay?” She tilted her head to one side.
“Yeah, I’m fine… it’s just… Hermione, he won’t even look at me!”
“Maybe it was the dress; I didn’t particularly enjoy looking at you either.” I had to laugh.
“I know, it is a vile old thing; I mean, you naturally assume that Fleur has a good fashion sense, but I’m living proof that it’s not the case.”
Hermione smiled, but then her expression softened. She squeezed my hand.
“It’s probably better this way; Harry ignoring you might make it easier.”
“Perhaps, yeah. I suppose you’re right.” I didn’t want to talk about it, no matter how much ‘closure’ Hermione might think I need. Forgetting would be best. “Look, I’m going to get a drink.”
I left Hermione and darted around the back of the marquee. With a deep sigh, I buried my hands in my face: I certainly hadn’t been ready to face Harry again today. Seeing him had just made my head spin and aggravated the scar left by our relationship. The emotions I felt concerning Harry were too confusing to sort out yet.
Fully aware that my mother would kill me for leaving the wedding, I grabbed my broom and flew off. Okay, okay, I was breaking the law in a major way “ at least six Muggles saw me “ but considering the disrepair of the country, I doubted the Ministry would have time to track me down.
I landed hard in the dirt a good few kilometres from home, near Wiltshire. It was a shaded, secluded forest, somewhere that I could think without being disturbed by brothers or well-meaning friends. Or so I thought. While tramping through the weeds and nettles, my hair gigantic from the wind, my horrendous dress being torn to shreds, I ran into Draco Malfoy.
Another View by cute_lil_badger
Chapter Notes: None that I can think of, except that JK owns all -- but if you don't know that you shouldn't even BE here.