Paradox (Harry/Ginny; PG)
Title: Paradox
Author: pumpkinpasty @ pumpkin_fics
Rating: PG
Word Count: 881
Summary: At Auntie Muriel’s, Remus and Ginny have a strange conversation.
Notes: Takes place in my personal Ginny-centric Deathly Hallows canon. Heavy overtones of Harry/Ginny, naturally. I am not 100% certain on the timeline of Remus’s whereabouts & the birth of Teddy, so forgive me any errors. I think this conversation could have taken place.
- - -
Ginny never believed in fate.
Fate was something stupid, something that people used to console themselves when their lives went wrong. It was never meant to be, they say. Or worse, everything happens for a reason. She didn’t think that way. She lived in the moment.
And at the moment, she couldn’t stand her life - couldn’t stand sitting inside Auntie Muriel’s parlor, mending old robes for her mum. She wanted to run outside and stand in the fierce wind and pelting rain, her hair whipping around her face, stinging her cheeks. She wanted to be back at Hogwarts with Neville. She really wanted to punch a Slytherin in the face. Instead, she sat in the windowsill and stared across a rippling field, imagining the days when she and her brothers would play pick-up Quidditch out there, not spend the evenings cooped up inside, while the best of their friends were out hunting Voldemort.
A loud pop just outside the window made her start. It was Remus, looking more disheveled and beaten than she ever remembered seeing him. She stood up and tossed aside her sewing to meet him at the front door.
“Ginny,” he said with a vague smile when he saw her. She took his cloak and helped him into the parlor. He was weak, she could see it in his eyes, and hungry, too. She hurried into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of pumpkin juice, and dumped some chocolate biscuits her mum had made onto a plate.
“Mum’s upstairs, I think she might have fallen asleep, shall I go-“ she began, shoving the food in his hands, but Lupin shook his head.
“I’m fine,” he murmured, “just a bit tired. I’ve been trying to take care of some last minute deals with - for the Order, I mean, before Tonks goes into labour.”
Ginny settled into the opposite end of the couch and watched him eat the biscuits. She could tell he was trying to be well-mannered, and not stuff them into his mouth.
“How is Tonks?” she said, not wanting to be rude. The truth was she heard from Tonks regularly these days, and knew that she was both very pregnant and very worried about Lupin.
“Oh, well,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “she’s stuck at her mother’s house and she’s so big now she can’t do much but sit in bed, so how do you think she’s doing?”
Ginny laughed, but she felt a little stir of resentment. Tell me about it. What was it with these men, off fighting evil while their girlfriends sat at home knitting sweaters? (Although, to be fair, Ginny had drawn the line at knitting sweaters.)
“Would you like one?” Lupin offered her the plate of biscuits. She shook her head, still lost in her bitter thoughts.
“It’s not fair,” she said suddenly, slamming her hand into one of Muriel’s perfumed cushions. “I was doing fine at Hogwarts, I don’t care about the goddamn Carrows, or Snape. I could - I could help them, even if I stayed hidden. I’m really good at mending wounds now, you know. And we had a headquarters set up, we were fighting!“
Lupin stared at her, the bottle of pumpkin juice half-raised to his lips, alarmed and as though he were seeing her for the first time.
“It’s because he loves you,” he said, after a moment, and the ferocity of his tone startled her. “Harry, I mean - Harry is out there right now, risking his life for you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s doing it for everyone, for the wizarding world--”
“No, no, I mean of course he’s doing it for the greater good - he’s doing it because it’s the right thing, because he’s the only one who can, but in his heart he’s doing it for you!” He sat up, pushing the plate of cookies away so that they spilled in between the couch cushions.
“Ginny,” he said, very seriously, “how can you not see that?”
“Because if he really - if he knew…” she trailed off. “We might have a year, at most. We both might die. I’m a blood traitor anyway. But it’s worse to live without him, than to live - however short, however dangerously - with him. I’m not afraid of that.”
Now she hugged the cushion to her chest and drew her knees up to her chest. “If he had never looked twice at me, it would all be different. But I had this taste of him, of how we could be, and now I can’t - I can’t get it out of my head. This is how he left me, wanting. And all I can do is keep fighting. I keep fighting to keep the thought of him out of my head, and now I can’t even do that.”
Remus stared out the window into the storm. He brushed his graying hair out of his face, which was twisted with sadness. “His memory torments you,” he said, “but your memory is all that keeps him going. It is all that keeps him alive.”
He stood up.
“Remember that, Ginny. There is more than one way to fight this battle.”
He left her, then, to stare out the window and consider fate, love, and the cosmic order of things.
Author: pumpkinpasty @ pumpkin_fics
Rating: PG
Word Count: 881
Summary: At Auntie Muriel’s, Remus and Ginny have a strange conversation.
Notes: Takes place in my personal Ginny-centric Deathly Hallows canon. Heavy overtones of Harry/Ginny, naturally. I am not 100% certain on the timeline of Remus’s whereabouts & the birth of Teddy, so forgive me any errors. I think this conversation could have taken place.
- - -
Ginny never believed in fate.
Fate was something stupid, something that people used to console themselves when their lives went wrong. It was never meant to be, they say. Or worse, everything happens for a reason. She didn’t think that way. She lived in the moment.
And at the moment, she couldn’t stand her life - couldn’t stand sitting inside Auntie Muriel’s parlor, mending old robes for her mum. She wanted to run outside and stand in the fierce wind and pelting rain, her hair whipping around her face, stinging her cheeks. She wanted to be back at Hogwarts with Neville. She really wanted to punch a Slytherin in the face. Instead, she sat in the windowsill and stared across a rippling field, imagining the days when she and her brothers would play pick-up Quidditch out there, not spend the evenings cooped up inside, while the best of their friends were out hunting Voldemort.
A loud pop just outside the window made her start. It was Remus, looking more disheveled and beaten than she ever remembered seeing him. She stood up and tossed aside her sewing to meet him at the front door.
“Ginny,” he said with a vague smile when he saw her. She took his cloak and helped him into the parlor. He was weak, she could see it in his eyes, and hungry, too. She hurried into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of pumpkin juice, and dumped some chocolate biscuits her mum had made onto a plate.
“Mum’s upstairs, I think she might have fallen asleep, shall I go-“ she began, shoving the food in his hands, but Lupin shook his head.
“I’m fine,” he murmured, “just a bit tired. I’ve been trying to take care of some last minute deals with - for the Order, I mean, before Tonks goes into labour.”
Ginny settled into the opposite end of the couch and watched him eat the biscuits. She could tell he was trying to be well-mannered, and not stuff them into his mouth.
“How is Tonks?” she said, not wanting to be rude. The truth was she heard from Tonks regularly these days, and knew that she was both very pregnant and very worried about Lupin.
“Oh, well,” he said, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, “she’s stuck at her mother’s house and she’s so big now she can’t do much but sit in bed, so how do you think she’s doing?”
Ginny laughed, but she felt a little stir of resentment. Tell me about it. What was it with these men, off fighting evil while their girlfriends sat at home knitting sweaters? (Although, to be fair, Ginny had drawn the line at knitting sweaters.)
“Would you like one?” Lupin offered her the plate of biscuits. She shook her head, still lost in her bitter thoughts.
“It’s not fair,” she said suddenly, slamming her hand into one of Muriel’s perfumed cushions. “I was doing fine at Hogwarts, I don’t care about the goddamn Carrows, or Snape. I could - I could help them, even if I stayed hidden. I’m really good at mending wounds now, you know. And we had a headquarters set up, we were fighting!“
Lupin stared at her, the bottle of pumpkin juice half-raised to his lips, alarmed and as though he were seeing her for the first time.
“It’s because he loves you,” he said, after a moment, and the ferocity of his tone startled her. “Harry, I mean - Harry is out there right now, risking his life for you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, he’s doing it for everyone, for the wizarding world--”
“No, no, I mean of course he’s doing it for the greater good - he’s doing it because it’s the right thing, because he’s the only one who can, but in his heart he’s doing it for you!” He sat up, pushing the plate of cookies away so that they spilled in between the couch cushions.
“Ginny,” he said, very seriously, “how can you not see that?”
“Because if he really - if he knew…” she trailed off. “We might have a year, at most. We both might die. I’m a blood traitor anyway. But it’s worse to live without him, than to live - however short, however dangerously - with him. I’m not afraid of that.”
Now she hugged the cushion to her chest and drew her knees up to her chest. “If he had never looked twice at me, it would all be different. But I had this taste of him, of how we could be, and now I can’t - I can’t get it out of my head. This is how he left me, wanting. And all I can do is keep fighting. I keep fighting to keep the thought of him out of my head, and now I can’t even do that.”
Remus stared out the window into the storm. He brushed his graying hair out of his face, which was twisted with sadness. “His memory torments you,” he said, “but your memory is all that keeps him going. It is all that keeps him alive.”
He stood up.
“Remember that, Ginny. There is more than one way to fight this battle.”
He left her, then, to stare out the window and consider fate, love, and the cosmic order of things.