Mr. Harry James Potter and Miss Ginny Weasley - 1998
She stood in the window sill, watching as the sun slipped over the horizon. For the first time since the Founders had opened the school, all of Hogwarts was quiet. The last rays of the sun shone fiercely through the window, illustrating her silhouette clearly.
His feet were quiet as he slipped down the stairs. He had been resting all day, sleeping off the long months of fighting and terror. During those hard times, she was what kept him sane. She was the one he thought of when he needed inspiration. But now that he could finally talk to her, he was suddenly completely unsure of himself. After all, it had been nearly a year. He had broken up with her. Maybe (his throat seized up at the very thought) maybe she was seeing someone else.
Don’t be foolish, said a voice within him (one that sounded awfully like Hermione’s). You saw her face when you arrived. Remember how she sounded when she thought you were dead? Of course she still loves you. You’re the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, the Savior of the Wizarding World. You just killed Lord Voldemort. Why is that suddenly sounding easier than this?
Slowly, he walked up to her and laid a hand on her shoulder. She jumped, her hand instantly reaching for her wand (for such were the times they lived in). When she saw it was him, she relaxed instantly, giving him a quick smile before turning back to the sunset. Even in that brief moment, however, he could see that she had been crying. Of course she was crying; they all were. But it still hurt him, still filled him with a nameless fury. How dare they make her cry?
His arms slipped around her, offering the only comfort he could, and instinctively she leaned against him. Her body was cold, her clothes still torn and bloody from the battle (but she’d never looked more beautiful). He gazed down at her face, as captivated by it as he had been last summer. It had changed so much in that time. There were lines where there weren’t before, a silent testimony to the pain she endured (ironically, he was almost glad he wasn’t the only one who had changed). Her eyes scared him, though. They were focused on the distance, staring at the sun as if that could make the pain disappear, but they were empty. Her eyes had always been so alive, so full of light, but now they only contained a tired sorrow. Was she thinking the same things about him?
Her head turned to look at him and when her eyes met his they seemed to regain a little of their joy. She smiled at him, and he smiled at her, and they stood there, holding each other as the sun set on all their grief and hardship.
A/N: Thank you sooo much to everyone who has reviewed or favorited. It makes my day every time it happens. (hint hint nudge nudge wink wink) :D
Write a Review Redhead Syndrome: Mr. Harry Potter and Miss Ginny Weasley