It had been a day and a half since Ginny had last seen Harry, and she was starting to get annoyed.
She had spent the last three hours roaming the castle in search of him. As she walked about through the devastation, she helped where she could”whether it was repairing a shattered window or cleaning a dark burn mark off the wall. Ginny ambled about each floor, not really seeing, not really caring, simply looking for something to do to keep her mind off the dead lying in the Great Hall. It seemed like such a dream, in a way; why did she care about the state of the castle when her brother was dead? Why was she focusing on a scorch mark from some missed spell when baby Teddy was an orphan? They had won, yes, but why did it have to come at such a terrible cost? It just wasn’t fair! At first, she had wished she could rant at the injustice of it, or fall on the floor and pitch a temper tantrum like a three-year-old. Now she just felt numb, and she was tired of trying to understand. Why were the good people the ones who always sacrificed the most? War made no sense. Grief made no sense. Life made no sense, either.
She wished she could find Harry. If there was anyone who could understand how she felt, it was him.
The morning lengthened, and the shadows gradually shrank as the sun rose in the sky. The later in the day it got, the more deserted the castle seemed, and Ginny wandered the halls with fewer and fewer interruptions. As afternoon approached, she thought of going to the kitchens to find a bite to eat; as she made her way towards the Entrance Hall, however, she was distracted by a lone voice. Peering down the stairs, she watched the sunlight reflect surreally off Professor McGonagall’s stiff form. Her hawk-like brow was furrowed in concentration as she repaired the staircase banisters, and she seemed lost in her own world of complicated wand movements and constant muttering. Ginny didn’t mean to disturb her, but when she stumbled on a piece of debris McGonagall stopped what she was doing and looked up.
“Miss Weasley!” she said, when Ginny walked down the stairs to join her. “Please be careful; these stairs are rather dangerous at the moment.” When Ginny safely reached the ground, Professor McGonagall wiped her brow and said, “I’m glad you’re here; would you mind levitating that chunk of the banister for a moment?” She turned her attention back to the staircase. “And incidentally, I am glad to see you looking so well,” she said softly.
“Thank you, Professor,” Ginny said. She felt it would be rude to point out that appearances were deceiving, and that if her exterior reflected what she felt inside her whole body would be bruised and battered and she would be screaming in pain. Instead, she levitated the banister Professor McGonagall had indicated and replied, “I’m glad you’re out of the hospital wing.”
“I am as well, thank you. I’ll be sore for a while, but it takes more than broken ribs to keep me down for long. But what are you doing, wandering around now? Where is the rest of your family?” McGonagall asked, and Ginny heard the professor’s voice crack. Apparently she found it as hard to think about their missing member as Ginny did.
“They were in the Gryffindor common room when I left,” she said. “But I had to get away for a while. Mum was stifling me.”
McGonagall smiled sadly. “I’m rather surprised you got away, then. When…well, when a mother loses a child, it’s rather hard to let the rest out of her clutches,” she said thickly. Ginny watched her turn around quickly and blow her nose on a handkerchief that hadn’t been there a moment before.
Ginny suddenly felt her throat constricting, and it seemed a slab of rock was pressing into her chest. She had felt grief before, first with Sirius and then with Dumbledore, but never like this; never had it been so…so personal. She had never thought grief could weigh her down so much; she almost wanted to sink into the floor and join her brother in the world beyond, for then this pain would go away…
“Miss Weasley, would you like a handkerchief?” Professor McGonagall turned around again, holding another handkerchief out to Ginny. Ginny nodded mutely, trying to keep the tears inside, but before she could understand what was happening her face was screwed up in pain and she was sobbing on McGonagall’s shoulder.
It was very awkward, when she thought about it later; she was certain that McGonagall had never seen her weep before, and now here she was, offering a shoulder for her to cry on as if she was Ginny’s mum. In a way, though, she was very thankful; Mum was already so emotional, Ginny didn’t dare add to the fuss. It would only upset her mother more.
After a while”it could have been one minute or ten, Ginny wasn’t sure”she gently pulled herself away from her professor and blew her nose. “Thank you,” she said stuffily, trying to maintain what dignity she could without more tears leaking out.
“You’re quite welcome, Miss Weasley,” McGonagall said, wiping tears out of her own eyes as well. “Please believe me when I say I’ve been there before.” She turned to once again eye the staircase critically. “Now then,” she said, her voice brisk once more, “let’s fix the last bit of this staircase.”
Ginny followed McGonagall’s instructions to the letter, and soon the gleaming marble looked as if it had never seen a battle. Professor McGonagall nodded approvingly.
“It looks as good as new. Thank you for your help, Miss Weasley.”
“You’re welcome,” Ginny answered. She knew perfectly well that McGonagall had not needed her help at all. She had simply provided a distraction, but for that Ginny was grateful. It helped her focus on something besides her morbid thoughts.
“Mr. Potter!” Professor McGonagall exclaimed suddenly. “We were beginning to wonder if you had left the country!”
Ginny’s head whipped around to face the newly-repaired staircase. Sure enough, there he was, coming down the stairs with a slight smile on his face as he answered McGonagall.
“Harry,” she breathed, as she watched him descend to the Entrance Hall. She hardly noticed when Professor McGonagall bade her leave and walked away quickly, trying to act inconspicuous. Ginny’s attention was too focused on the young man approaching her.
“Ginny,” she heard him whisper. As soon as he said her name his haggard face split into a grin, and he hurried to close the distance between them.
Ginny didn’t know how to feel about him just then, but it didn’t stop her from flinging herself into his open arms. She had missed him so much!
It felt wonderful to have his arms around her again. Ginny held him tight, reveling in his smell, the feel of his hands on her back, and the way her head fit perfectly in the crook of his neck and shoulder. The moment was so perfect, with the sun shining brightly, birdsong echoing across the grounds, and just the two of them, alone … until Ginny remembered how miserable she felt. How could she enjoy this when everything else had fallen apart? Sighing inwardly, she slowly disentangled herself from his embrace.
Harry didn’t want to let her go, but when her body language told her he should he allowed her to back up and eye him critically. Ginny drank in the sight of him, letting her eyes roam from head to toe, but all she saw were reminders of how hard this war had been on him. His face was covered with bruises and his arms with burns. By the way he winced when she touched his chest she guessed Professor McGonagall was not the only one with damaged ribs. And, though he looked as if he had bathed, it apparently hadn’t done much good; she could still see dirt caked into his hands, and his hair still looked greasy. He needed feeding up, too, as his Muggle clothes were hanging off his lean frame. She wanted to say how much she had missed him (or even how annoyed she had been that she couldn’t find him), but all that came out was, “Harry, you look awful.”
Ginny could have kicked herself. She was finally reunited with her dream man of the last seven years, and all she could say was “you look awful”? Her hopes of a romantic reunion were quickly dashed.
“I feel awful,” he said. “Well, I did feel awful, but I’m a lot better now I’ve seen you,” he corrected himself, grinning sheepishly.
“Still as sweet as honey, aren’t you.”
“Of course,” he said, cupping her chin in his hand. His gaze lingered on her face, as if just looking into her eyes was the most important thing in the world. “I’ve missed you, Ginny. More than you know.”
“I missed you, too Harry, but I honestly don’t know whether to be mad at you or to snog you senseless.” Ginny looked down, trying to avoid his stare until she had said her piece.
“I hope you choose the snogging””
Ginny pulled farther away. “Harry,” she said stiffly, “do you have any idea how I’ve felt all year?”
Harry, looking forlorn without her in his arms, shook his head slowly. “You were probably terrified.”
“That’s not the half of it,” she snapped. Ginny had no idea why she was suddenly so angry, but it seemed that every resentful thought from the whole year had risen to the surface, demanding she voice it aloud. “You broke up with me because you had to act like a noble prat and be all self-sacrificing. You didn’t dance with me at the wedding, and then you ran off without so much as a ‘good-bye,’ and I couldn’t talk to you at all or know if you were safe. And then, when I finally saw you again, there was no greeting, there was no “I missed you,” you only told me to stay out of the fighting even though I’ve proved before that I can take on Death Eaters””
“Ginny, please””
“And then you went missing right after I found out my brother had been killed, and the next time I saw you I”I thought you were”” she choked back a sob” “were dead like him, and I wished I was dead, too””
“Ginny””
“Don’t interrupt me!” she spat, shaking away the placatory hand he had offered. “And then all of a sudden you were alive again, and I thought my heart would explode because I was so happy, but everyone else got to you first and you didn’t try to find me and then you disappeared again and then I…well, I got really angry,” Ginny finished lamely, finally running out of steam.
Harry had the grace to look ashamed of himself, at least. He really did look pathetic, with a five-‘o’clock shadow on his chin and his face bruised and puffy…
But the pathetic look vanished, to be replaced by the firmly-set jaw and hard eyes of an angry young wizard. “Ginny. I’m sorry for all of that, I really am. But did you really think I wanted to do any of that?” he asked, his voice shaking. “Do you think it wasn’t torture for me to break up with you? Do you think I didn’t want to dance with you at the wedding? Do you think I never wanted to talk to you, more than anyone else in the world? Do you think I never missed you while I was on the run? Do you think my heart didn’t skip a beat when I finally saw you, or that I didn’t think you were as able as me to fight? DO YOU THINK I DIDN’T DIE INSIDE WHEN I HEARD YOU SCREAM MY NAME?” he yelled. “I did all of it to keep you safe from him, to keep you from dying like…like Fred…”
His voice broke, and Ginny felt ashamed that she had been so selfish.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I””
But Harry wasn’t finished yet. “I used to take out the Marauder’s Map every night and stare at your dot. I wondered if you were all right, if you were being mistreated, if you were thinking of me …” He paused, and took a deep breath as if he was about to plunge head-first into the lake. “Do you really think I would have done any of that if I didn’t… if I didn’t… love you?”
Ginny’s breath caught in her throat, and her heart swelled within her. Had he really just said what she thought he had? The words came off his tongue as if he had never used them before, but they truly seemed sincere…
“You love me?” she whispered.
“I…yes, I love you,” he answered, more strongly now. “With all my heart.” For the first time he looked nervous, as if afraid of what she might say. Before she had even thought of a response, however, he rushed on. “And for your information, I knew exactly where you were after the battle. But I was tired, and before I talked to you I really owed an explanation to Ron and Hermione.”
“But not to me?” Ginny asked, frowning as she tensed again. He had to ruin it, didn’t he? Men could be so stupid, and Harry more than any other really knew how to put his foot in his mouth.
“Of course to you,” he said, eyes widening fearfully as he realized his mistake. “But,” he said, drawing her into his arms again, “I didn’t come find you right away because I hoped we could talk for longer than a few minutes before I fell asleep standing up. I hoped we could talk for years, if … if you want to.”
Ginny smiled slightly. At least he could recover better than Ron.
She found herself staring into his eyes, and all the tension drained out of her. Why was she thinking of Ron at a time like this? “I think I would like that,” she said. It was amazing how fascinating Harry’s mouth looked in the gleam of the afternoon sunlight. “I would love to spend years with you, because I think I love you, too, Harry Potter.”
Ginny didn’t know where the words had come from, but she knew instantly that they were true. It was exhilarating and terrifying all at once to know that she cared so much about him, but it was also real; even with all the destruction around her, when everything seemed so wrong and unfair, she was in love!
“Really?” Harry asked. “You love me, too?” He looked stunned, but happier than she had ever seen him. His lips were moving closer…
“I love, you, too,” she repeated, and then she was lost in the sweetness of his kiss.
It was not like the kiss on his birthday, or like their first kiss in the Gryffindor common room, or like any other kisses they had shared in the stolen moments a year before. This was something new, something to be cherished, and Ginny felt as if she could stay there forever without ever getting tired of the feel of his lips against hers.
After ages, it seemed, she pulled back, gasping for air but still smiling. Harry looked down at her and grinned happily. “I could get used to that.”
“Really?” she said, tracing the curve of his face with her finger.
“Really.” And he kissed her again.
A rumbling noise finally brought them to their senses, and this time it was Harry who pulled back. He put a hand to his midsection, and Ginny giggled when she realized that the rumbling noise had been his stomach growling.
“Ginny?” he asked.
“Yes?”
“I…I love you, but I’m also starving. Can we get some lunch?”
Ginny giggled again. “I suppose.”
Throughout the rest of the day, Ginny carried the thought of Harry’s love within her like a talisman against reality. As she helped scrub blood off the castle’s flagstones, and discussed funeral arrangements with her mum, and held a sobbing George to her shoulder as McGonagall had done for her, she did it with the knowledge that happiness would come again, no matter how dismal things were now. She and Harry had love on their side, and no one”not Death Eaters, Dark Lords, nosy reporters, or even over-zealous siblings”could take that away from them.
Late that night Ginny joined Hermione in the girl’s dormitory in Gryffindor Tower. They talked for a few minutes, first about Hermione’s love for Ron and then about Ginny’s love for Harry, but eventually Hermione’s chatter changed into soft breathing and Ginny was left with naught but her own exhaustion for company. Before she joined Hermione in Dreamland, however, she found herself pondering the cost of the war again.
Maybe, she thought, just maybe it’s worth it if it means we can still have love.
The Women Who Won by Laurelyn
Chapter Notes: This is Jo Rowling’s world; I am only trespassing.
First of all, many, many thanks to all who have reviewed! You have no idea how much I appreciate it. I was having a really bad day when I logged in and saw how many people liked this story, and not only did it help me then, it kept my spirits up the rest of the week. Thank you so much!
I am also sorry for the long wait. The Andromeda and Molly chapters have given me enormous amounts of trouble, but while I was struggling with them this one came out with no hassle at all. It is considerably fluffier than the last chapter, but I hope you enjoy it just as much. Please let me know what you think; constructive criticism is valued!