FIC: 'Pain, pieces, promises' by Pluschi
To:
fireworkfiasco
Title: Pain, pieces, promises. - Part III: Promises
Author/Artist:pluschi
Pairing: Harry/Ginny
Rating: PG-13
Word Count:
Summary: After their disastrous meeting in Hogsmeade, Harry comes to some realizations and tries his best to find a way back to Ginny. Owls, introspection and quidditch lead to simple promises.
Author/Artist's Notes: This is the last part of the fic. Thanks for the people who commented. I'd love to hear all of your thoughts as well as any concrit. I'm new to this and I'm eager to learn from all or you. It took me longer than expected to write this part so I hope you like the ending. Any mistakes left in the text are all mine! Many thanks to my wonderful beta
r_becca
- this fic wouldn't have been half what it is now without her.
These were the requests or squicks to avoid:
Favorite genres/types of fic/art: I don't mind angst, and I don't mind fluff--I just think there needs to be a point to it. Anything moody and beautiful is completely perfect for me.
Requested elements: (a strange, disjointed list) I like awkwardness. Harry and Ginny have more to them than their love for one another. First times--whether emotional or physical. Tension. Restlessness. Wind through hair. Hands in flight. That sort of strange beauty that comes from noticing details. A little bit of roughness--passionate emotions make you do the whacky, in my opinion. Eating. Insecurities making things not all sunshine and buttercups.
(optional) poetry, quote, or lyric for inspiration: The emotion in this piece hits me in my heart place: The Cinnamon Peeler .
Squicks and elements to leave out: Babies. No pregnancy, no "Aww! Look how cute our offspring are!", no Let's-have-a-deeply-passionate-quickie-while-the-baby-sleeps-in-the-next-room. Just no. Harry and Ginny fighting and then getting over it right away. Ginny being clingy, or excited to have babies, or wanting to get married. Harry being clingy, or excited to have babies, or wanting to get married. In a way that breaks their characterizations, of course. There was a war on, and all, and I think recovery time is needed. Was needed.
...
Promises
Harry was leaning casually against the wall on the back patio of the Burrow. Faint noises from inside the kitchen permeated the quiet world outside. Harry grinned at the familiar ritual of Mrs. Weasley directing the rattling kitchen utensils while Mr. Weasley relayed the events of the day to his wife in a gentle cadence. Harry’s hands were stuffed in his pockets to protect them against the chilly November air and he shivered as the cold breeze went through his sweater but he didn’t mind. Harry smiled as he brushed his thumb over a piece of parchment in his pocket and felt truly happy and at peace for the first time in weeks.
He was gazing out into the night sky when Ron stepped out of the kitchen to join him. Harry did not look up at his friend as he spoke with barely concealed pride. ‘She won.’
‘Yeah, I heard,’ Ron replied as he looked Harry over before carefully continuing, ‘so she wrote?’
Harry abandoned the dark heavens and studied his trainers for a few moments. He turned towards Ron with a hopeful look on his face as he moved his hand out of his pocket to pat the letter. ‘She did.’
‘Good.’ Ron released a long breath as if he had been holding it inside for far too long and added a bit clumsy, ‘about time, eh?’
Harry stared from his friend to the darkness outside and felt something contract inside of his belly.
‘Just about, yeah.’ And then he started laughing tiredly as he set the pent-up emotions of the last few weeks free.
‘Let’s go inside, mate.’ Ron moved and opened the back door after Harry’s laughter had subsided. He gestured with his arm for Harry to go inside and as he patted him on the back as they entered, added in his signature dry tone ‘You love-sick-puppy.’
…..
It had taken Harry about an hour to get over his crippling frustration after Ginny stormed out of his room on her first Hogsmeade trip. As he watched Hogsmeade's busy crowds slowly thin out beneath his window, a slow realization began to dawn on him: she wasn't coming back. For the next few days he wallowed in hopelessness and an impenetrable stupor and withdrew into himself.
Gathering up his courage, he finally sat down on a stormy Thursday night and dipped his quill in ink to write her.
Ginny,
I’m sorry I hurt you - again. However hard I try, it’s not enough.
I’ll understand if it’s better for you to go on without me. I understand.
Yours,
Harry.
For three days a calm resignation settled over him in the certainty that he’d done the right thing even if it killed him inside. Ginny’s silence only served to strengthen his belief that she was better off without him.
On Sunday evening, he received an unusually brief and plain letter from Hermione.
Harry,
For Merlin’s sake - get your wits together.
This is Ginny, Harry. It’s Ginny.
Don’t mess this up.
Hermione.
P.S. : She’s not doing well.
Hermione’s words reverberated in his mind ‘This is Ginny, Harry. It’s Ginny.’ which went into overdrive as he replayed the fight with Ginny for the hundredth time. As he let the words sink in - ‘It’s Ginny’-, the pieces of the puzzle suddenly fell into place and Ginny’s screaming started to make sense. This was Ginny he was dealing with - his Ginny. The one that never backed off when he tried to push her away. The one that always knew what he was getting at. The one that didn’t scare away when he got angry or frustrated but stood her stubborn ground. His Ginny, who let him go off on a hunt for the darkest wizard of all times and respected his choice, even if the idea of standing back and never seeing him again tore her apart.
At Hogsmeade, Ginny’s anguish had triggered his old fear that she was better off without him. Now, Harry realized that Ginny had known he was hurting even though he’d never told her: she had been shouting at him because she wanted him to reach out and share his burden. It suddenly dawned on him that instead of reaching out to her, he had gotten caught up in self-deprecating thoughts and had pushed her further away. Ginny was upset because she thought she was losing him once again.
Harry realized what a complete and utter prat he’d been at Hogsmeade. He rubbed his eyes to make the stinging go away but he could not control the angry tears that fell onto the parchment, blurring the ink.
Exhausted, he whispered to himself, ‘Hermione, you truly are the brightest witch of our age,’ and turning to thump his head on the desk he added, ‘and I’m such a thick and self-involved prat. Bloody-well-bugger.’
As if having spoken those thoughts aloud had emboldened him, he took out a new piece of parchment. He might have messed up at Hogsmeade but he was bloody well going to do better from now on. Harry wanted to move forward and any idea of the future had always revolved around Ginny. It was time to tell her the truth and so he began writing.
Gin,
I’m such a git. I deserve giant flapping Bat Bogeys attacking me.
Harry rolled the quill between his fingers slowly, contemplating his next words.
I’ll find a way to let you know what goes on inside that thick head of mine.
Maybe I can’t do it right - but I promise I’ll never stop trying.
Just give me some time to work it out.
Your Harry.
He received a letter from Hermione the next day that was equally brief as the last one though written in a much warmer tone.
Harry,
Honestly, that wasn’t so hard, was it?
I know you’ll find a way, Harry, you always do.
Let me know if you need help.
And take care of yourself!
Love,
Hermione.
P.S.: She’s smiling again. If you don’t hear from her, remember that she’s a Weasley.
As Hermione predicted, he did not hear from Ginny for the next few days. Harry kept hoping for a reply by owl but a part of him could understand her stubborn silence and agreed that he should take the first step towards making amends. So he devoted most of his time on trying to find a way to reach out to her. Days passed and though he could now recognize the familiar spiral of distancing that was fuelled by his uncertainties, guilt and shame, he still didn’t know how to capture the muddle of emotions that troubled his mind. Especially after a long, gruelling day of training at the Auror academy his emotions were raw and exposed as the intensity of the training stripped him of his fragile defences.
In those moments, it was hard fighting the almost natural urge to withdraw but he managed to resist by remembering Ginny’s panic stricken face as she screamed at him and somehow that made it easier to stand his ground.
Harry sent Ginny a short note on the night before her first Quidditch match as Captain which took place just days before Thanksgiving. The pile of crumpled parchment on the floor was a silent witness of the effort he took in getting it just right. He decided on a personal and honest note.
Gin,
I wish I could be there tomorrow to see you fly high above the pitch. I’ll think of how the wind played with your hair on our summer Quidditch two-on-two games. Be your Weasley self up there and I know you’ll do more than great because you simply belong up there.
Remember this is part of the good in the world we fought for so, you see, there is no failing.
Go get’em Weasley!
Your Harry.
Harry dropped his quill after signing his name as a slow but heart-warming smile crept out from underneath the hazy mist. And that’s when it struck him like a bludger to the stomach: Quidditch! They both understood the game like the backs of their hands. It seemed so simple now to reach out to her and make her understand the chaos inside his mind. After all, ‘actions speak louder than words’ and as Harry leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms behind his head in victory he contemplated that he’d never once failed at the action part.
….
Ginny loved the rush of adrenaline coursing through her body. It made her feel alive and in control. She heard the shrill sound of Madame Hooch’s whistle moments before the chaos and uproar came to life on the stands. Ginny made a full stop and hovered on her broom high above the pitch as her team gathered around her and they celebrated their first victory together.
In the commotion of the cheering and hugging that ensued, she let the happiness wash over her and glanced up at the stands to wave back at a celebrating Hermione and Hagrid. In that moment she felt the sting of Harry’s absence and as she made the descent towards the dressing rooms with her team, she promised herself to end the stupid stubborn silence and simply write him.
The common room was deserted save for the occasional student who was dozing off amidst the Quidditch merchandise George had sent the celebrating Gryffindors in honour of his sister’s victory. It made Ginny smile to see some of George’s old mischief resurface. She yawned as she focused back on the parchment in front of her and glanced at Hermione who was engrossed in her writings to Ron. Ginny poured all her enthusiasm into the letter before her and it felt good to reach out to Harry after nearly four weeks of silence. She’d kept all of his letters hidden safely underneath her pillow with a sealing charm and had all his words memorized by heart after reading them far too many times.
After her disastrous meeting with Harry in Hogsmeade, Ginny had felt such shame at her frenzy that it took her a couple of days to relay the events to Hermione. Guilt washed over her at the memory of all the things she’d screamed at Harry and she was beyond angry at herself for losing her control. She’d known beforehand that Harry wasn’t doing well and then when she finally got the chance to talk to him about it, she simply freaked out. Her own behaviour had scared her and though a side of her felt weak for lashing out at Harry like that, another part recognized the outright terror of losing him again.
Those first days were the worst because she could not bring herself to pick up her quill and write him. She lacked not only the words but also the courage to face a reply - should he choose to write one. Five days passed in anxious waiting and then on Thursday evening, long after all the other students were fast asleep in their beds, a ministry owl took her out of her sleepless ponderings and delivered a small piece of parchment from Harry. She could have anticipated that he would come to the conclusion to nobly step aside and offer her happiness without him - but it did not prepare her for the shock of seeing the words etched on the worn piece of paper in his familiar handwriting.
Ginny tried her very best to remain strong and took great effort in eating and studying and doing all of her usual activities as to not alarm Hermione. But by Sunday evening the perceptive and clever witch had nevertheless weaselled it out of her. It felt good to finally shed the tears she had been keeping at bay in the presence of her good friend and she knew that Hermione understood. Once again Ginny found herself incapable of writing a reply to Harry but she suspected that Hermione had no such difficulty as later that same evening another letter from Harry arrived.
Ginny smiled her first real smile in a week upon reading Harry’s honest words.
Gin,
I’m such a git. I deserve giant flapping Bat Bogeys attacking me.
‘You’re right about that one, Harry.’ She imagined a nervous frown lingering on his face at the thought of her famous curse.
I’ll find a way to let you know what goes on inside that thick head of mine.
Maybe I can’t do it right - but I promise I’ll never stop trying.
Ginny appreciated Harry’s approach to address the issue that had evoked her anxious rant and not the words themselves she’d shouted at him. In the end he had not taken it personally but rather as a thing between the two of them that needed to be smoothed out, and it calmed her to realize that. She knew that Harry would find a way for them to move on together.
Just give me some time to work it out.
Your Harry.
‘Your Harry.’ The words sent shivers to her spine and though she realized things were far from all right at least Harry had made the first step and for that she was grateful. With a note to herself to thank Hermione in the morning, she rested her head inches from the parchment and for the first time in days fell into a peaceful sleep.
Ending her reverie, Ginny returned her attention to the present and realized she’d been staring at her finished letter for quite some time. She got up from her place near the fire in the old comfortable armchair and stretched languidly, content at the twitching of her muscles and the memory of the victory. She looked around and spotted a dozing Hermione and quietly stepped up to her friend.
‘Hmm Ron?’ Hermione awoke with a start at the touch of Ginny’s hand and both girls blushed.
‘Sorry, wrong Weasley,’ Ginny mumbled good heartedly and could not hold back a teasing wink.
‘I must have dozed off in the middle of writing.’ Hermione carefully straightened her posture and started to gather up her belongings.
‘I finished mine.’ Ginny admitted slowly.
‘You did?’
Ginny did not miss the honest glee that reached her friend’s eyes and once again felt grateful to have her nearby.
‘Yeah… ‘ She contemplated her next words before continuing in a voice both relieved and strong, ‘up there on that broom you just forget about the world and then when you come back down sometimes … I don’t know, it’s clearer somehow.’ Ginny looked at a smiling Hermione.
‘That’s funny.’ Hermione got up from her seat and turned to the redheaded girl. ‘It’s exactly the kind of thing Harry would say.’
They went up to the girl’s dormitories and as Ginny started to yawn contently she let the relief of more than just the Quidditch victory lull her to sleep.
...
After the late night owl delivering the news of Ginny’s Quidditch victory, Harry did not lose time to start his plan of action. As he and Ron entered the kitchen, he was welcomed by Mrs. Weasley’s somewhat too casual ‘Everything all right, dear?’ followed by a knowing wink from Mr. Weasley who was standing behind his wife trying for all the world to look innocent but failing miserably. It warmed Harry to see how much they cared about him and even though he suspected they were well aware of the difficulties he was having with Ginny, their support never wavered. Harry felt a slow smile creep up and warm his cheeks as he honestly replied.
‘Yes, everything is more than all right,’ He paused and enjoyed their stunned looks at his unusual admission. ‘I think I’m going to go up to bed and get a good night’s rest.’
‘Yes, dear.’ He heard Mrs. Weasley mumble as he took the first steps up to Ron’s bedroom. As he passed Ginny’s empty room he briefly touched his fingers to her door and whispered to himself, ‘Night, Gin.’
By the time Ron had joined him an hour later, he had decided on a course of action. Harry had figured out a way to open up to Ginny and help her understand his inner turmoil while at the same time reaching out and trying to comprehend the burdens that she carried. He felt better now that he was more in control. He feigned sleep until Ron’s familiar heavy breathing gave way to rhythmic snoring.
Harry deeply regretted that up until now he had never questioned the full impact of his final actions in the war against Voldemort on Ginny. His own ambivalent feelings about his so-called-death and subsequent resurrection had remained a sore and - looking back on it - conveniently ignored subject with Ginny over the summer. It pained him to realize that she was still truly upset and that he’d failed to notice this. Harry came to the conclusion that at the end of the day they were both afraid of the same thing: losing each other. Tired but content he traced Ginny’s curvy handwriting one last time on the parchment and snuggled closer to his pillow before giving in to his exhaustion.
…
Ginny made her way towards the staircase with the gargoyle that would take her up into the Headmistress Office. She had received a letter from Professor McGonagall requesting her presence immediately and so she’d handed over the Fanged Geranium she was working on to an irritated Professor Sprout and exited the greenhouse with a nervous shrug to Hermione. Upon her arrival in the office, several voices rang out in greeting from the portraits on the walls. A bit taken aback at the warm reception, Ginny just smiled at the familiar face of Professor Dumbledore, whose portrait hung on the wall closest to the Headmistress's desk. For a moment, she wondered again why she'd been summoned in the middle of class, but the Headmistress soon began to speak in her usual no-nonsense tone.
‘Good afternoon, Miss Weasley.’
Ginny collected herself and politely replied ‘Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall.’
Both women remained silent for long seconds. Just as Ginny started to worry that something was seriously wrong she noticed a flicker of a smile in the otherwise cool exterior of the Hogwarts Headmistress. Her interested piqued, she squared her shoulders and bravely continued, ‘You sent for me, Professor?’
The old woman got out of her comfortable chair and Ginny instinctively held her breath. Out of the corner of her eye she caught a movement in Professor Dumbledore’s portrait and she could have sworn she saw him wink but then Professor McGonagall was in front of her with a letter in her outstretched hand. Ginny’s heart suddenly stopped in her chest at the sight of the familiar handwriting on the parchment. Her face surely betrayed the mixed emotions of excitement, bewilderment and anxiety as the Headmistress lifted her eyebrow in response in a way that took all of the usual sternness out of her posture and made her look much more like her mother.
McGonagall handed Ginny the letter and patted her softly on the shoulder with her other hand. Then, as Ginny remained fixed in her spot, the Headmistress went back to her desk and took her time to sit down before she explained in a much softer voice.
‘I received a visit this afternoon from a representative of the Auror Academy on some routine business.’ She paused to give her next words more impact. ‘Mr. Potter asked me to give you his letter as soon and as discreetly as possible.’
She sat up a bit straighter at the perplexed expression of the girl in front of her and with a piercing look continued, ‘As you may well imagine, I explained to Mister Potter that he may use our school owls to deliver his post as I am now a Headmistress and not a postman,’ she indignantly gestured to the room, ‘but he had an interesting story to justify his request.’
Professor McGonagall turned her head to glance at Professor Dumbledore’s portrait and Ginny followed her example. A serious face with deep blue eyes stared back at the two women. He nodded almost imperceptibly at the current Headmistress to continue. She sighed and folded her hands in front of her in a gesture that struck Ginny once again as motherly.
‘These are special times, Ginny.’
At the rare mention of her given name, she snapped her head towards Professor McGonagall and understood that she was not being spoken to as a student. The parchment between Ginny’s fingers was burning into her skin and she tried her best the calm the beating of her heart at the possibilities that lay within.
‘Given Harry’s special request - and we both know how reluctant he is to use his privileges - I did not have the heart to deny it.’ She lowered her head towards the desk and picked up a long, green quill.
Ginny took this as her cue to leave and turned to exit with her head filled with questions on both the Headmistress’s strange behaviour and Harry’s intentions.
‘Miss Weasley?’
She stopped in her tracks at the lowered voice of the Headmistress. Tearing her gaze off the letter in her hand, Ginny turned to look into the now impenetrable and controlled expression of the old woman before her.
‘Yes, Professor?’
‘I’m sure Mister Potter will not mind if I give you permission to clean out the Quidditch dressing rooms and pitch after the victory. You will do so tonight starting at eight.’
Ginny gave the Headmistress a questioning look and turned Harry’s letter over in her hand as if it would reveal the answer to make sense of this strange situation.
McGonagall continued somewhat amused, ‘Make no mistake, Miss Weasley, even though I granted Mister Potter’s request - that does not excuse you both from following school rules. And as I’ve had the pleasure of witnessing Mister Potter’s repeated lack of regard for said rules, I’m simply taking precautionary measures.’ She returned to her work with a rare but definite smile on her face and gestured to the baffled youngest Weasley that she could leave.
Ginny stepped out of the Headmistress’s office dumbfounded and desperately curious with Harry’s letter tightly clasped between her fingers. The thought of Harry on the grounds of Hogwarts overwhelmed her mind and made it very hard to breathe. She squatted down against the wall opposite the gargoyle and felt excitement course through her at what she would find in the letter. Giving in to her curiosity she fidgeted with the parchment until Harry’s messy handwriting came clear into focus.
Gin,
I found a way.
Meet me on the pitch tonight at eight.
Your Harry.
….
A strong wind swept across Harry’s face as he took in the magnificent sight of his former home. Hogwarts basked in the light of its many illuminated windows in the cold November air and Harry imagined the students of the four houses hustle in their usual evening activities. However, tonight his mind was set on one single redheaded Gryffindor student who - if all went well - was hurrying down the path towards the Quidditch Pitch where Harry was waiting. He was clutching his Firebolt in both hands and only the tapping of his fingers on the handle of his broom revealed his nerves.
An excited flutter ran through him as he spotted Ginny’s familiar silhouette in the distance. He took a deep breath and admired her lean figure as it was accentuated in her Quidditch robes. Her step was quick and light and Harry took this as a good sign. As she passed the stadium’s entrance, her brown eyes met twinkling green ones and Harry cast his glance down unto the frozen ground, affected by this simple exchange. He gathered up his Gryffindor courage and stepped forward and bravely started the night’s happenings.
‘Ginny,’ Harry was surprised to find his voice so steady and continued, ‘I’m glad you came.’
Ginny did not answer as she took the final steps towards Harry. Her posture was open and clearly interested though Harry did not miss the slightly reserved look on her face. The ensuing silence was awkward but Harry did not let it deter his resolve. He took a step towards her and reached out to take her small hand in his. She did not flinch at this and Harry was pleased to find the first traces of a smile on her lips.
‘I’m sorry about what happened at Hogsmeade.’ Harry looked her straight into the eyes and willed her heart to listen. ‘I never meant to hurt you but I didn’t know how to tell you what I was dealing with.’ He let the impact of his honest admission linger in the air for a few more seconds and then continued more softly. ‘I never realized how much I hurt you if I turn away.’
He took another step closer so that they were mere inches apart. Ginny’s familiar flowery scent assaulted his senses and he sniffed the air unashamed with his eyes closed. When he opened them, they stared at each other for long moments simply enjoying each others presence. Ginny looked radiant with her cheeks red from the cold and the sight urged Harry on.
‘You know I’m too thick for words,’ He looked down shyly and blushed. ‘so if you’ll let me, I think I can show you what it feels like in that thick head of mine.’
Harry sneaked a glance at Ginny and could see that his words had affected her deeply. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears and the curves of her face hinted at the first traces of a smile. The wind whipped up her long hair and played around her face and he drank in the sight of her thinking that she couldn’t be more beautiful than right now.
Ginny simply nodded and joined her hand with his on her cheek and lowered their joined hands. She stared at their intertwined fingers as if they held some answers, then slowly started caressing Harry’s fingers with her thumb. Engaging his eyes she whispered, ‘show me.’
Harry smiled in relief and guided her towards his broom. When they were both seated - Harry in the front and Ginny behind - he turned to her and whispered ‘Hold on to me, tight.’
Ginny gave him a somewhat questioning and indignant look but did as requested and firmly grabbed his middle with both arms.
‘Just trust me, ok?’ He added - half in answer to her exasperation and half in answer to his own increasing nerves. Before she could retort, Harry pushed off the ground and they swiftly gained altitude until they were hovering high above the pitch in the clear dark night.
He could feel the pressure of her body on his back and the nearness of her sent chills up and down his spine. Her chin was resting on his shoulder and he could feel her every breath caress his ear. Her fingers were tucked inside his robes clutching at the warmth of his chest and it was hard to focus on the task before him when his whole body was overwhelmed by her presence. With a deep breath he whispered, ‘Let’s go!’ and then he set off with determination.
…
At first, Ginny had no clue what exactly Harry was trying to show her and she was slightly annoyed at his request to ‘hold on tight’ and his apparent lack of trust in her flying abilities. However, she remained silent as he seemed to have a plan and she could always hex him later if it wasn’t to her liking. The moment their feet left the ground, she started to relax and bent her upper body closer to Harry and tucked her hands warmly underneath his robes. His unruly hair caught her attention as it stubbornly resisted the strong wind. She enjoyed the familiar scent leaning in close to his shoulder and she was beginning to forget why they were up here as the strong heartbeat underneath her fingers filled her with longing for more closeness. His whispered words ‘let’s go’ lingered on her skin and then Harry was flying like a madman possessed.
The adrenaline kicked in as the wind tugged at her hair and she struggled to hold on to Harry. She’d never seen him fly like this before and briefly wondered in between heart stopping twists and turns if he’d jinxed the broom. It slowly dawned on her that Harry’s feral tactics were deliberate. Then after ten, fifteen minutes of wild and eccentric flight she started to discern certain patterns in his movements.
Ginny had never known fear while flying on a broom but she was beginning to feel perturbed at Harry’s deranged and erratic manoeuvres. She trusted his flying skills but as he bolted in another descent towards the ground only to tug on the broom moments before they hit the ground, panic suddenly hit her. She hated feeling so out of control as they swirled in circles inches above the frozen grass. When Harry stopped the broom her panic quickly subsided and something clicked inside her stomach and her mind. She yelled out as the insight threw a new light on Harry’s strange flying.
‘This is what it feels like to you!’
Harry turned to look her in the eye and she noted uncertainty coupled with a vulnerability that shook her to the core.
‘Harry…’ She whispered, dumbstruck as she stared back at him. She was in awe at his effort and openness to share but at the same time horrified at the feelings that so fiercely took hold of him.
‘Do it again.’ Her tone was equally fierce, fuelled by her love for him and the determination to understand. ‘Show me again, Harry.’
….
Five minutes after their ascent into the air, Harry started to question whether his idea had been so brilliant after all. Ginny was holding on to him for dear life and he was beginning to think he was only scaring her, which was not an easy feat as he knew how fearless she was up in the sky. He tried to focus on his movements and could only hope she would catch on sooner than later.
However, he was unprepared for the feeling when she finally did understand his intentions after a crazy descent that nearly had them crashing into the ground. Shock and comprehension alternated on her face and the pain and the pieces of his heart responded to her empathy. She urged him on to show her again and he did.
Half an hour later the were hovering high above the pitch with the wind in their hair after a particularly gruesome move.
He turned worriedly to Ginny and took her hand. ‘Are you all right?’
She looked at him, surprised. ‘Are you?’
The both chuckled at her self-evident assessment and it felt like a relief.
‘No, I guess I’m not.’ He shook his head and squeezed her hand. ‘But it feels good to share.’ He shrugged and carefully continued, weighing his words, ‘It feels less desperate to know you’re here with me.’
Ginny took in his words and he saw their healing effect as her whole body attuned to his senses. She touched her hand to his face and gently put pressure on his cheek so that his eyes came to rest on hers.
‘Why did you bring me up here, Harry?’
Her voice had a distinct Molly-quality to it that Harry recognized both as a warning signal for trouble and a challenge to put his cards on the table. He had to get this right or if he wasn’t careful, her independent and stubborn Weasley nature would ruin his effort to heal a part of her pain as well.
He braced himself but did not break the eye contact and poured all his honesty into his next words.
‘A part of me can’t deny that I’ll always want to protect you from any kind of pain - including mine-,’ he put his hand up to stop her protest, ‘though I know you can stand your own ground…’ He lowered his hand and struggled to find the right words, ‘this is my way of showing you what it feels like in my head sometimes and that it’s time I let you be right next to me - that I’m not leaving you.’ He gestured towards their sitting position and her arm still clutching his side, ‘I want you to stick to me as much as I’ll stick to you.’
He could hear the blood rushing in his ears and the seconds it took Ginny to reply felt like an eternity with his heart out there on his sleeve.
Ginny’s face showed her emotions flickering from shock to wonder and then her face softened and she started glowing with something Harry could only describe as relief and understanding and finally her lips met his in an awkward kiss.
‘Promise?’ she whispered in a trembling voice.
They broke apart and he twisted ungracefully on the broom to turn to her more.
‘I promise, Gin.’
The strength and love he saw reflected back upon him was like a balm to his soul and he let the feeling wash over him.
‘Come here, you Chosen One.’
Her voice was teasing and endearing at the same time and it did strange things to his belly. Before he could form a reply, Ginny threw herself at him with the fierceness he loved about her and he tasted the future in her kiss.