Fic: The Tough Option [2/5]
Title: The Tough Option
Author: luna_plath
Rating: R
Warnings: language, EWE, sex
Word Count: 3,329 words
Genres: Romance, Angst, Gen
Pairings: Harry/Ginny, Harry/Tracey, Ginny/Eddie
Summary: After splitting up fifteen years ago Harry and Ginny are thrown together again when they search for their children during a detention gone wrong. But will their complicated history get in the way of forging a new relationship? A story in five parts. Thanks so much to lyras for the fantastic beta job!
chapter one
The Tough Option
----
2. Follow Through
----
For the first fourteen years of her life, being the youngest Weasley had been her only identity. She had a place in the world through her brothers and her parents and people like Harry Potter and Tom Riddle, but when she was fifteen Ginny decided to change all of that. She was tired of being caught up in the generalization of her family, her house, her gender, so she tried out for chaser and started dating Dean Thomas and for the first time a real glimmer of herself was visible to everyone.
She’d only ever wanted for them to see her, but as she grew up Ginny realized how difficult that actually was. Some people had no problem with it; people like Harry, she reckoned, couldn’t help but be themselves no matter the circumstance. It was one of the reasons she’d liked him so much, initially. He could effortlessly do what she’d been aiming for her whole life, and that capability made him more attractive to her than any other boy she’d met. When the war ended it seemed only natural to be with him, until it wasn’t.
Growing up with six brothers had fostered in her a desire to be noticed for her own merit, to be appreciated, and once she started playing with the Harpies it had seemed like the wishes from her girlhood were finally coming true. Instead of being known merely as Arthur Weasley’s daughter or Ron Weasley’s little sister she had an identity of her own, and no one could dampen it for her.
Except perhaps Harry Potter.
----
“Weasley!” Gwenog shouted from her place on the pitch. “Get down here and meet Ed Carmichael, he’s doing the team photos tomorrow.”
Ginny angled her Nimbus toward her team captain and descended, making a clean landing on the plush, summer grass. She dismounted from her broom and gingerly walked over to meet the Harpies’ new photographer, Eddie Carmichael, a Ravenclaw and two years her senior, if she remembered correctly.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand and hoping she didn’t smell too offensively sweaty. The team had been subjected to twice-a-day practices in the height of August and it was likely that she smelled like a musty locker room.
“And you as well,” he said, smiling easily. His hair was a rich, chocolate brown that fell in loose curls. A rather nice camera was tucked under the arm of his dark blazer, along with some standard lighting equipment.
“Carmichael’s getting some photos of the pitch before tomorrow’s group shots. Still doing the story for Quidditch International, then?”
“Yes. I’d actually really appreciate the opportunity to ask Miss. Weasley a few questions for my article, if that’s alright,” he said, and it was then that Ginny noticed the never-out quill and reporter’s notebook in his pocket.
“Sure, that sounds fine,” she answered.
“Excellent,” said Gwenog. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up while Ed gets his pictures, and then you can use my office for the interview?”
Ginny nodded in the affirmative and promised not to take too long while she changed. As the Harpies’ newest player she was routinely asked for interviews or picture opportunities, but Gwen seemed very keen on getting her to talk with Ed, so she guessed that it was a big article that could potentially help her career. Swallowing the flurries of worry and anticipation that welled up in her stomach, she made her way to the locker room for a quick shower, broom over her shoulder.
----
The first time she’d had sex was in Sirius’ old bed at Grimmauld Place, only a month or two after the war had ended. She had gone looking for Harry at the London townhouse and succeeded in finding him there, sorting through some of the older things that his godfather had left.
“Mum asked about you. She wanted to know if you were staying for dinner and couldn’t remember if you were at the Ministry today or sorting things out over here, so I said I’d come check,” Ginny explained.
He dropped the stack of dark arts texts that had undoubtedly belonged to Regulus or his father and took a few steps toward her, ignoring the puff of dust that emerged from the discarded pile on the floor. His hands met hers and they stood there for a moment while Harry traced the inside of her palm with his thumb.
“When’s she expecting you back?” he asked.
Playing at nonchalance, she shrugged, a wave of her auburn hair falling past her shoulder. “Not sure. Mum said that she was heading over to Andromeda’s for tea, and knowing how much she likes to talk . . . it could take hours.”
Her light tone didn’t fool him. Harry grasped her forearms, pulling her closer and angling one of his legs so it was almost between hers. “Yeah? Any plans?”
There was a burning in his eyes that she’d seen before and Ginny didn’t hesitate when his lips found her neck, his hands dipping underneath her cotton shirt, drawing her closer to the barrier between adolescence and adulthood, otherwise known as virginity. They had been prowling around one another for the majority of the summer-silent kissing in her childhood bed or blind, dusk-hour groping in the tall grass beyond the garden, early morning blowjobs in her clean, white-tiled bathroom while her mum was outside hanging up the wash-and now there was a location and a timeframe and not even Voldemort himself, risen from the grave, could have upset Ginny’s plan to sleep with her elusive boyfriend.
With her naked back arching against a dead man’s sheets and Harry’s fingers thumbing a rhythm between her legs, it seemed that she was finally getting what she wanted.
----
Scrubbed clean, Ginny brushed her freshly dried hair behind her ear, rubbing a fraying section of her jeans with the edge of her nail. Not exactly a glamorous outfit for an interview, but she was a sports player, not a model, and hopefully Carmichael wouldn’t be taking any photos of her this evening.
“Excuse me? Miss. Weasley?”
“Sorry,” Ginny said, looking up from the interesting bit of carpet on the floor. “I didn’t quite catch what you said before?”
“That’s perfectly alright. I asked if things were still finished between yourself and Harry Potter,” Ed repeated while she fought the urge to grimace.
When she had first signed with the Harpies the public had become aware of her Quidditch ability and her relationship with Harry nearly simultaneously, and it had been a constant during her career, at least until a few months previously. Ginny had chosen Quidditch as a way to make a name of her own. But being Harry’s girlfriend had somehow usurped that position, reducing her talent to a mere epithet in the daily gossip column. Her significance was represented in phrases like: eighteen-year-old Ginny Weasley, longtime girlfriend of Harry Potter and recently recruited chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, was seen in Diagon Alley yesterday sporting a canary-yellow muggle dress and sandals. See photos on page eight. Ginny had hoped that after their breakup she would be taken more seriously for her ability as a chaser and not just as a celebrity, but apparently Ed Carmichael hadn’t bothered to notice.
“Yes,” she said politely. “Harry and I are no longer together.” Her simple answer seemed to satisfy him, and Ginny felt her shoulders significantly relax when he moved on to talk about her upcoming match with the Falmouth Falcons.
----
Two months later, Ginny found herself accepting an invitation to dinner from Eddie. It was just after the Quidditch International article had been printed and he’d owled her a clipping, along with an attached note asking if she’d be interesting in going to dinner with him sometime. It was the first offer of a date that she’d received since breaking up with Harry, and after five months with nothing to fill her time but her friends, family, and training schedule, she was starting to feel slightly guilty, as well as socially deprived.
Whenever she returned to the flat she shared with two other team-members (Jessica Spits, beater, and Leanne Duncan, chaser) she would remind herself, lips pressed together, shoulders tight, that this was what she’d wanted. Even on nights when Jessica stayed with boyfriend, when Leanne visited her brother Stewart in Scotland, when she could hear her neighbors having monogamous, uninhibited sex, Ginny would repeat to herself: I wanted it this way, even if I’m alone.
Over the summer it had been easier to ignore her feelings. Gwenog had them practicing on a grueling schedule for the upcoming season and her mind had been more preoccupied with her aching muscles than her damaged love life, but as autumn approached the situation developed a harsher tone of reality.
She had left Harry. Even just the thought alone had taken months for her to comprehend. It had only taken a week for her to decide that they weren’t right for each other any more, but if that were really true then why would she be feeling regret nearly six months later? Ginny pressed herself with questions, lying on her home-stitched quilt while staring at the quaint, punched-tin ceiling in her bedroom, her feelings slowly emerging with all their enormous, interlocking truths.
Things had been deteriorating for nearly a year, with Harry working more than ever and returning from missions with increasing numbers of injuries. At the time she’d rationalized that the process was normal, that it was totally standard for him to start out with easier cases and work up to the more difficult ones, but she couldn’t help the sinking, itchy feeling that he was moving too quickly.
It was no secret that the aurors had been in desperate need for new recruits after the war, and Harry, Ron, and Neville had been the answer, although Ginny had been harboring the suspicion that the ministry didn’t really have their safety at heart for some time. Was it normal to send a trainee to Peru or Kenya to chase after known Death Eaters with only a team of four? Was it normal to end up in the St. Mungo’s curse ward once at least once a month with life-threatening injuries? If it was, then it was too much for her, because the emotional realities of being with an auror were more than she could take.
Ginny had asked herself the same question over and over-at nights with the sheets drawn up to her chest, after she’d searched the crowd during a game at least twice before realizing that he wouldn’t be there, after shutting herself in the bathroom and crying over old T-shirts and touches of Harry all throughout her life-and she’d always arrived at the same reasons.
Because I need to do this on my own is always easier than I’m afraid to lose you. Because I want this for myself is simpler than I’m afraid of losing who I am. Because a half-truth can be less complicated than the whole truth, or even just a straight-out lie.
Because she was scared and because she was stubborn and because she loved him so goddamn much-and, maybe most importantly, because she wouldn’t be Ginny Weasley if she didn’t at least follow through.
----
Ginny entered her date with a cautious state of mind. Eddie had seemed like a nice enough bloke while he was interviewing her, but she didn’t really know him that well, even if he had written excellent things about her in an international publication, and she hoped that by accepting his invitation she wasn’t inadvertently setting herself up to pay him back later in the evening.
Judging by his appearance the first time they’d met, Ginny assumed that he spent a lot of time in both the magical and muggle worlds, so she went for something that would pass in either situation: a simple black dress, royal blue flats, and a beige trench jacket.
Eddie stopped by her flat to pick her up and they walked to a nearby muggle restaurant that was somewhat known within the magical community. Ginny did a lot of listening on the way, which she thought was fair because he had already interviewed her for nearly two hours on a previous occasion.
He shared a bit more about his occupation, explaining that articles were where he made his real money, but that his true passion was photography and that he hoped to make a more solid career out of it in the future. He asked her about her family, George’s joke shop, and her friendship with Luna, which had been mentioned in an article Luna had written for a publication on magical creatures. This led them to a discussion of the trip that Ginny went on over the summer with Luna to the Philippines, and a further discussion on travel-all before the main course.
Squinting at Eddie as if his jumpiness were a visible feature, Ginny said, “You aren’t perhaps nervous, are you?”
He twirled his fork in his right hand but didn’t break eye contact. “I am, actually. Does it show? Have I been talking too much?”
At least he was aware of his flaws, she thought. “A bit, but that’s alright. You really shouldn’t be though. I’ve had a nice time so far.”
It wasn’t a lie, and hopefully it would get him to act more naturally. The beat of silence that passed between them gave her an opportunity to lead up her own questions and thankfully Eddie relaxed a little as the dinner went on. By the time they paid the bill and stepped outside she could truthfully say that she’d had a good time, at the very least, and that Eddie was smart and possibly charming, in a bookish sort of way. He was nothing like her brothers, and nothing close to her usual type, but something urged her to agree to see him again. Ginny used his battered reporter’s quill to scribble the number of her landline onto his forearm, explaining that she was a novice to telephone operation but if he called she would try to answer.
Eddie walked her back to her flat, kissed her on the cheek, and, fighting a blush, promised to call. It was the first painless evening she’d had in a long while, even if he would never quite be like Harry.
----
Christmas was the first time she brought Eddie around to meet all her brothers at once, having introduced him to Ron the month before over dinner, and Ginny felt the need to warn her new boyfriend before bringing him over the threshold of per parents’ home.
“Don’t take anything my brothers say too seriously,” she said, hand on his arm. “Especially George. Apart from that, as long as you’re polite and you eat well, my parents will love you.”
“Sounds easy enough,” he said, reassuring her. “Honest. The thought of your five brothers and their wives doesn’t intimidate me at all.”
“Excellent. I’m glad you’re starting this with the right attitude.”
When they entered the kitchen door they were, thankfully, only met by Ron and Hermione, who were pouring cups of freshly brewed tea.
She hugged her brother and longtime friend while Ron clapped Eddie on the shoulder in greeting.
“Good to see you again,” he said, and Ginny could tell that Hermione had given him some sort of talking-to before their arrival.
She wondered briefly if Harry had been asked for Christmas dinner but didn’t voice her question. Of course he had been invited, Ginny reasoned, Harry had been over to stay for the holiday nearly every year since he was eleven. The thought of seeing him face-to-face after so much absent time sent a spark of anxiety down her spine, pooling in her stomach like a full gulp of water.
There was little time to dwell on it, however, because Fleur and her mother promptly entered the kitchen with Victoire trailing on their heels. There were more introductions and hugs, and Ginny greeted her young niece while her sister-in-law tiredly sank into a kitchen chair.
Much to her discomfort, one of the first questions out of Victoire’s mouth was, “Where’s Uncle Harry?” which was followed by “Auntie Gin, why didn’t you make him stay for Christmas?”
Thankfully, Ron scooped her up, answering in a spooky voice, “Because he’s catching dark wizards!” He punctuated the end of the sentence by tickling her, and Victoire shrieked at the assault, cackling and wriggling out of his grip at the first opportunity, running into the sitting room where she informed Bill that Uncle Ron was teasing her.
“Harry and Neville are in Singapore for the holiday,” Hermione said, mostly for Ginny’s benefit, she guessed. “A last minute case came in and they volunteered so that Ron could stay in England.”
“We’ll have to have them over for supper straight away. You should be grateful, Ron,” Molly said, loading dishes onto the magically expanded kitchen table.
Ignoring the conversation, she helped her mum set the table and arrange the food, pretending that it was a holiday out of her childhood memories instead of the very different one she’d encountered; Ginny folded napkins and eavesdropped while Eddie got acquainted with Percy, George, and Bill.
“So you write for Quidditch magazines, then?” Percy asked. Ginny got the feeling that her brothers were trying to feel Eddie out before dinner really got started.
“Not just Quidditch, a bunch of other publications as well, but sports writing and photography is where I make most of my money.”
Her brothers seemed to accept that answer; any wizard who fancied sports was welcome in their family. She heard Ed ask what her brothers did for a living and tried not to snigger when Percy’s answer was twice as long as George and Bill’s combined.
Charlie and her father emerged from the den, along with Angelina and Percy’s new girlfriend Audrey. It was more than a tight fit, she reckoned, but even with every member of her immediate family and a few extras the assembly still felt smaller than the gatherings from her past. Ginny immediately thought of Fred and Harry, and the smile she’d been wearing since she arrived slipped, the scene before her swimming with meaningless images.
As a child, Christmas had been her favorite day of the year, but the first few holidays after the war had been unbearable for her. All of the buildup and pretense had shattered along the inside of her skull, leaving impressions of guilt, unhappiness, and insincerity in the place of her dead brother. In recent years things had seemed easier, but the absence of Harry jarred her more than Ginny was willing to admit. Giving up his Christmas holiday for Ron was so like him that even just thinking about it made her ache. Why wasn’t he here, or at least staying in with that Tracy Davis girl he was dating now? An image of her ex-boyfriend and the blonde Slytherin she’d known at Hogwarts flashed through her mind and she mentally recoiled.
Why do I always fucking do this to myself? she wondered, taking the basket of homemade rolls that her father passed her. Why do I force myself to be miserable because I think I ought to be? Why can’t I just accept what’s in front of me and get on with it?
Hermione sent her a curious look and she pretended not to notice, squeezing Eddie’s hand on her leg underneath the table. Ginny pushed her emotional response to the safe, silent space in the back of her mind, returning to the discussion that was now taking place between Charlie and George over chocolate frog cards. It was just another Christmas, she reasoned, and agonizing over the loss of her brother or her first love wouldn’t make it any more bearable.
----
Author: luna_plath
Rating: R
Warnings: language, EWE, sex
Word Count: 3,329 words
Genres: Romance, Angst, Gen
Pairings: Harry/Ginny, Harry/Tracey, Ginny/Eddie
Summary: After splitting up fifteen years ago Harry and Ginny are thrown together again when they search for their children during a detention gone wrong. But will their complicated history get in the way of forging a new relationship? A story in five parts. Thanks so much to lyras for the fantastic beta job!
chapter one
The Tough Option
----
2. Follow Through
----
For the first fourteen years of her life, being the youngest Weasley had been her only identity. She had a place in the world through her brothers and her parents and people like Harry Potter and Tom Riddle, but when she was fifteen Ginny decided to change all of that. She was tired of being caught up in the generalization of her family, her house, her gender, so she tried out for chaser and started dating Dean Thomas and for the first time a real glimmer of herself was visible to everyone.
She’d only ever wanted for them to see her, but as she grew up Ginny realized how difficult that actually was. Some people had no problem with it; people like Harry, she reckoned, couldn’t help but be themselves no matter the circumstance. It was one of the reasons she’d liked him so much, initially. He could effortlessly do what she’d been aiming for her whole life, and that capability made him more attractive to her than any other boy she’d met. When the war ended it seemed only natural to be with him, until it wasn’t.
Growing up with six brothers had fostered in her a desire to be noticed for her own merit, to be appreciated, and once she started playing with the Harpies it had seemed like the wishes from her girlhood were finally coming true. Instead of being known merely as Arthur Weasley’s daughter or Ron Weasley’s little sister she had an identity of her own, and no one could dampen it for her.
Except perhaps Harry Potter.
----
“Weasley!” Gwenog shouted from her place on the pitch. “Get down here and meet Ed Carmichael, he’s doing the team photos tomorrow.”
Ginny angled her Nimbus toward her team captain and descended, making a clean landing on the plush, summer grass. She dismounted from her broom and gingerly walked over to meet the Harpies’ new photographer, Eddie Carmichael, a Ravenclaw and two years her senior, if she remembered correctly.
“Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand and hoping she didn’t smell too offensively sweaty. The team had been subjected to twice-a-day practices in the height of August and it was likely that she smelled like a musty locker room.
“And you as well,” he said, smiling easily. His hair was a rich, chocolate brown that fell in loose curls. A rather nice camera was tucked under the arm of his dark blazer, along with some standard lighting equipment.
“Carmichael’s getting some photos of the pitch before tomorrow’s group shots. Still doing the story for Quidditch International, then?”
“Yes. I’d actually really appreciate the opportunity to ask Miss. Weasley a few questions for my article, if that’s alright,” he said, and it was then that Ginny noticed the never-out quill and reporter’s notebook in his pocket.
“Sure, that sounds fine,” she answered.
“Excellent,” said Gwenog. “Why don’t you go get cleaned up while Ed gets his pictures, and then you can use my office for the interview?”
Ginny nodded in the affirmative and promised not to take too long while she changed. As the Harpies’ newest player she was routinely asked for interviews or picture opportunities, but Gwen seemed very keen on getting her to talk with Ed, so she guessed that it was a big article that could potentially help her career. Swallowing the flurries of worry and anticipation that welled up in her stomach, she made her way to the locker room for a quick shower, broom over her shoulder.
----
The first time she’d had sex was in Sirius’ old bed at Grimmauld Place, only a month or two after the war had ended. She had gone looking for Harry at the London townhouse and succeeded in finding him there, sorting through some of the older things that his godfather had left.
“Mum asked about you. She wanted to know if you were staying for dinner and couldn’t remember if you were at the Ministry today or sorting things out over here, so I said I’d come check,” Ginny explained.
He dropped the stack of dark arts texts that had undoubtedly belonged to Regulus or his father and took a few steps toward her, ignoring the puff of dust that emerged from the discarded pile on the floor. His hands met hers and they stood there for a moment while Harry traced the inside of her palm with his thumb.
“When’s she expecting you back?” he asked.
Playing at nonchalance, she shrugged, a wave of her auburn hair falling past her shoulder. “Not sure. Mum said that she was heading over to Andromeda’s for tea, and knowing how much she likes to talk . . . it could take hours.”
Her light tone didn’t fool him. Harry grasped her forearms, pulling her closer and angling one of his legs so it was almost between hers. “Yeah? Any plans?”
There was a burning in his eyes that she’d seen before and Ginny didn’t hesitate when his lips found her neck, his hands dipping underneath her cotton shirt, drawing her closer to the barrier between adolescence and adulthood, otherwise known as virginity. They had been prowling around one another for the majority of the summer-silent kissing in her childhood bed or blind, dusk-hour groping in the tall grass beyond the garden, early morning blowjobs in her clean, white-tiled bathroom while her mum was outside hanging up the wash-and now there was a location and a timeframe and not even Voldemort himself, risen from the grave, could have upset Ginny’s plan to sleep with her elusive boyfriend.
With her naked back arching against a dead man’s sheets and Harry’s fingers thumbing a rhythm between her legs, it seemed that she was finally getting what she wanted.
----
Scrubbed clean, Ginny brushed her freshly dried hair behind her ear, rubbing a fraying section of her jeans with the edge of her nail. Not exactly a glamorous outfit for an interview, but she was a sports player, not a model, and hopefully Carmichael wouldn’t be taking any photos of her this evening.
“Excuse me? Miss. Weasley?”
“Sorry,” Ginny said, looking up from the interesting bit of carpet on the floor. “I didn’t quite catch what you said before?”
“That’s perfectly alright. I asked if things were still finished between yourself and Harry Potter,” Ed repeated while she fought the urge to grimace.
When she had first signed with the Harpies the public had become aware of her Quidditch ability and her relationship with Harry nearly simultaneously, and it had been a constant during her career, at least until a few months previously. Ginny had chosen Quidditch as a way to make a name of her own. But being Harry’s girlfriend had somehow usurped that position, reducing her talent to a mere epithet in the daily gossip column. Her significance was represented in phrases like: eighteen-year-old Ginny Weasley, longtime girlfriend of Harry Potter and recently recruited chaser for the Holyhead Harpies, was seen in Diagon Alley yesterday sporting a canary-yellow muggle dress and sandals. See photos on page eight. Ginny had hoped that after their breakup she would be taken more seriously for her ability as a chaser and not just as a celebrity, but apparently Ed Carmichael hadn’t bothered to notice.
“Yes,” she said politely. “Harry and I are no longer together.” Her simple answer seemed to satisfy him, and Ginny felt her shoulders significantly relax when he moved on to talk about her upcoming match with the Falmouth Falcons.
----
Two months later, Ginny found herself accepting an invitation to dinner from Eddie. It was just after the Quidditch International article had been printed and he’d owled her a clipping, along with an attached note asking if she’d be interesting in going to dinner with him sometime. It was the first offer of a date that she’d received since breaking up with Harry, and after five months with nothing to fill her time but her friends, family, and training schedule, she was starting to feel slightly guilty, as well as socially deprived.
Whenever she returned to the flat she shared with two other team-members (Jessica Spits, beater, and Leanne Duncan, chaser) she would remind herself, lips pressed together, shoulders tight, that this was what she’d wanted. Even on nights when Jessica stayed with boyfriend, when Leanne visited her brother Stewart in Scotland, when she could hear her neighbors having monogamous, uninhibited sex, Ginny would repeat to herself: I wanted it this way, even if I’m alone.
Over the summer it had been easier to ignore her feelings. Gwenog had them practicing on a grueling schedule for the upcoming season and her mind had been more preoccupied with her aching muscles than her damaged love life, but as autumn approached the situation developed a harsher tone of reality.
She had left Harry. Even just the thought alone had taken months for her to comprehend. It had only taken a week for her to decide that they weren’t right for each other any more, but if that were really true then why would she be feeling regret nearly six months later? Ginny pressed herself with questions, lying on her home-stitched quilt while staring at the quaint, punched-tin ceiling in her bedroom, her feelings slowly emerging with all their enormous, interlocking truths.
Things had been deteriorating for nearly a year, with Harry working more than ever and returning from missions with increasing numbers of injuries. At the time she’d rationalized that the process was normal, that it was totally standard for him to start out with easier cases and work up to the more difficult ones, but she couldn’t help the sinking, itchy feeling that he was moving too quickly.
It was no secret that the aurors had been in desperate need for new recruits after the war, and Harry, Ron, and Neville had been the answer, although Ginny had been harboring the suspicion that the ministry didn’t really have their safety at heart for some time. Was it normal to send a trainee to Peru or Kenya to chase after known Death Eaters with only a team of four? Was it normal to end up in the St. Mungo’s curse ward once at least once a month with life-threatening injuries? If it was, then it was too much for her, because the emotional realities of being with an auror were more than she could take.
Ginny had asked herself the same question over and over-at nights with the sheets drawn up to her chest, after she’d searched the crowd during a game at least twice before realizing that he wouldn’t be there, after shutting herself in the bathroom and crying over old T-shirts and touches of Harry all throughout her life-and she’d always arrived at the same reasons.
Because I need to do this on my own is always easier than I’m afraid to lose you. Because I want this for myself is simpler than I’m afraid of losing who I am. Because a half-truth can be less complicated than the whole truth, or even just a straight-out lie.
Because she was scared and because she was stubborn and because she loved him so goddamn much-and, maybe most importantly, because she wouldn’t be Ginny Weasley if she didn’t at least follow through.
----
Ginny entered her date with a cautious state of mind. Eddie had seemed like a nice enough bloke while he was interviewing her, but she didn’t really know him that well, even if he had written excellent things about her in an international publication, and she hoped that by accepting his invitation she wasn’t inadvertently setting herself up to pay him back later in the evening.
Judging by his appearance the first time they’d met, Ginny assumed that he spent a lot of time in both the magical and muggle worlds, so she went for something that would pass in either situation: a simple black dress, royal blue flats, and a beige trench jacket.
Eddie stopped by her flat to pick her up and they walked to a nearby muggle restaurant that was somewhat known within the magical community. Ginny did a lot of listening on the way, which she thought was fair because he had already interviewed her for nearly two hours on a previous occasion.
He shared a bit more about his occupation, explaining that articles were where he made his real money, but that his true passion was photography and that he hoped to make a more solid career out of it in the future. He asked her about her family, George’s joke shop, and her friendship with Luna, which had been mentioned in an article Luna had written for a publication on magical creatures. This led them to a discussion of the trip that Ginny went on over the summer with Luna to the Philippines, and a further discussion on travel-all before the main course.
Squinting at Eddie as if his jumpiness were a visible feature, Ginny said, “You aren’t perhaps nervous, are you?”
He twirled his fork in his right hand but didn’t break eye contact. “I am, actually. Does it show? Have I been talking too much?”
At least he was aware of his flaws, she thought. “A bit, but that’s alright. You really shouldn’t be though. I’ve had a nice time so far.”
It wasn’t a lie, and hopefully it would get him to act more naturally. The beat of silence that passed between them gave her an opportunity to lead up her own questions and thankfully Eddie relaxed a little as the dinner went on. By the time they paid the bill and stepped outside she could truthfully say that she’d had a good time, at the very least, and that Eddie was smart and possibly charming, in a bookish sort of way. He was nothing like her brothers, and nothing close to her usual type, but something urged her to agree to see him again. Ginny used his battered reporter’s quill to scribble the number of her landline onto his forearm, explaining that she was a novice to telephone operation but if he called she would try to answer.
Eddie walked her back to her flat, kissed her on the cheek, and, fighting a blush, promised to call. It was the first painless evening she’d had in a long while, even if he would never quite be like Harry.
----
Christmas was the first time she brought Eddie around to meet all her brothers at once, having introduced him to Ron the month before over dinner, and Ginny felt the need to warn her new boyfriend before bringing him over the threshold of per parents’ home.
“Don’t take anything my brothers say too seriously,” she said, hand on his arm. “Especially George. Apart from that, as long as you’re polite and you eat well, my parents will love you.”
“Sounds easy enough,” he said, reassuring her. “Honest. The thought of your five brothers and their wives doesn’t intimidate me at all.”
“Excellent. I’m glad you’re starting this with the right attitude.”
When they entered the kitchen door they were, thankfully, only met by Ron and Hermione, who were pouring cups of freshly brewed tea.
She hugged her brother and longtime friend while Ron clapped Eddie on the shoulder in greeting.
“Good to see you again,” he said, and Ginny could tell that Hermione had given him some sort of talking-to before their arrival.
She wondered briefly if Harry had been asked for Christmas dinner but didn’t voice her question. Of course he had been invited, Ginny reasoned, Harry had been over to stay for the holiday nearly every year since he was eleven. The thought of seeing him face-to-face after so much absent time sent a spark of anxiety down her spine, pooling in her stomach like a full gulp of water.
There was little time to dwell on it, however, because Fleur and her mother promptly entered the kitchen with Victoire trailing on their heels. There were more introductions and hugs, and Ginny greeted her young niece while her sister-in-law tiredly sank into a kitchen chair.
Much to her discomfort, one of the first questions out of Victoire’s mouth was, “Where’s Uncle Harry?” which was followed by “Auntie Gin, why didn’t you make him stay for Christmas?”
Thankfully, Ron scooped her up, answering in a spooky voice, “Because he’s catching dark wizards!” He punctuated the end of the sentence by tickling her, and Victoire shrieked at the assault, cackling and wriggling out of his grip at the first opportunity, running into the sitting room where she informed Bill that Uncle Ron was teasing her.
“Harry and Neville are in Singapore for the holiday,” Hermione said, mostly for Ginny’s benefit, she guessed. “A last minute case came in and they volunteered so that Ron could stay in England.”
“We’ll have to have them over for supper straight away. You should be grateful, Ron,” Molly said, loading dishes onto the magically expanded kitchen table.
Ignoring the conversation, she helped her mum set the table and arrange the food, pretending that it was a holiday out of her childhood memories instead of the very different one she’d encountered; Ginny folded napkins and eavesdropped while Eddie got acquainted with Percy, George, and Bill.
“So you write for Quidditch magazines, then?” Percy asked. Ginny got the feeling that her brothers were trying to feel Eddie out before dinner really got started.
“Not just Quidditch, a bunch of other publications as well, but sports writing and photography is where I make most of my money.”
Her brothers seemed to accept that answer; any wizard who fancied sports was welcome in their family. She heard Ed ask what her brothers did for a living and tried not to snigger when Percy’s answer was twice as long as George and Bill’s combined.
Charlie and her father emerged from the den, along with Angelina and Percy’s new girlfriend Audrey. It was more than a tight fit, she reckoned, but even with every member of her immediate family and a few extras the assembly still felt smaller than the gatherings from her past. Ginny immediately thought of Fred and Harry, and the smile she’d been wearing since she arrived slipped, the scene before her swimming with meaningless images.
As a child, Christmas had been her favorite day of the year, but the first few holidays after the war had been unbearable for her. All of the buildup and pretense had shattered along the inside of her skull, leaving impressions of guilt, unhappiness, and insincerity in the place of her dead brother. In recent years things had seemed easier, but the absence of Harry jarred her more than Ginny was willing to admit. Giving up his Christmas holiday for Ron was so like him that even just thinking about it made her ache. Why wasn’t he here, or at least staying in with that Tracy Davis girl he was dating now? An image of her ex-boyfriend and the blonde Slytherin she’d known at Hogwarts flashed through her mind and she mentally recoiled.
Why do I always fucking do this to myself? she wondered, taking the basket of homemade rolls that her father passed her. Why do I force myself to be miserable because I think I ought to be? Why can’t I just accept what’s in front of me and get on with it?
Hermione sent her a curious look and she pretended not to notice, squeezing Eddie’s hand on her leg underneath the table. Ginny pushed her emotional response to the safe, silent space in the back of her mind, returning to the discussion that was now taking place between Charlie and George over chocolate frog cards. It was just another Christmas, she reasoned, and agonizing over the loss of her brother or her first love wouldn’t make it any more bearable.
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