|SIYE Time:23:14 on 16th December 2017|
My Knight, My Harry
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Genres: Angst, Fluff, Romance
Summary: Taken From Chapter 34 of Deathly Hallows - The Forest Again. Ginny reflects on the one man in her life. PARTNER TO "MY ENDINGS ARE NEVER HAPPY."
Hitcount: Story Total: 7883; Chapter Total: 2209
Written as a partner to "My Endings Are Never Happy", taken from Deathly Hallows - Chapter 34.
Have you ever had this feeling that there is someone watching over you? Someone who would give their life to save yours? Someone who would selflessly come after you when you’re in pain or on the brink of death itself? Yet that someone doesn’t even acknowledge you exist and love him?
I’m sure most people have. The feeling is incredible, knowing that that someone will always hold you in highest regard and always come to your rescue.
But then he destroys you himself by not noticing the one thing you want him to see.
Take my life for instance. When I was ten years old, I met the boy of my dreams. Admittedly, at ten years old, it could have been any boy. But very few boys have the impact that this one boy had.
It wasn’t romantic. Far from it, actually, he was simply lost and needed help from my mum, but that’s not the point. One look at him and I was a goner, lost to the monster of love.
He was almost my height, despite being a year older, so you can imagine how small he must have been. And thin too, almost to the point where he could be described as scrawny. Most girls probably wouldn’t (and didn’t) look twice at him, but I did, because there was something about him.
He had this mass of jet black hair lying atop his head, sticking out at odd angles. He’d kill me if he heard me say it, but he looked almost like a peacock trying to attract a mate. It worked, that’s for sure. I was attracted instantly.
Under the hair were these piercing green eyes. They were so sweet and innocent, but powerful at the same time. They captivated me right away, and I couldn’t help but look into them, try and catch their attention so they might turn their gaze on me. Still, I think if they had looked into mine, I might have died. They really were that amazing.
He was possibly the cutest thing you could have ever seen, lost, confused, in a different world to what he was used to. But there was confidence about the way he talked. His voice was a joy to listen to. I think I could have sat and listened to him talk all day long and well into the night, before falling asleep into his embrace.
It’s a childish fantasy, I know, but I was a child after all.
The year after I met him was plagued with thoughts of him. There was no hope for me, though, he was an eleven year old boy, and he didn’t want relationships. Worst of all, I was his best mate’s little sister. Ron would have killed him.
I remember having a glimmer of hope at one point. Mum got a letter from Ron, stating quite clearly that Harry, the boy from the platform, was his best friend. The joy this brought me was huge. I couldn’t believe my luck. There I was, thinking of ways to attract his attention when I went to school next year, and Ron had already done all the work for me. Now, it was just a matter of winning him over.
In my head, my first year was going to be amazing. I’d learn tons of things about magic, make loads of new friends, and possibly even catch a certain boy. Yes, Harry was definitely part of my plans.
But it all went wrong. He came over the summer before my first year and I couldn’t even talk in front of him. It was so embarrassing, but every time he entered the room, I’d do something stupid, like stick my elbow in the butter dish, or knock the contents of my breakfast flying into the air.
Really smooth, don’t you think?
But I was completely hung up on him. It was part of my plan, to get him to be mine. Saying that, nothing else went right that year, so why should this.
The Chamber of Secrets. I don’t like to think about it. Not that I can help it much, the damn thing just won’t leave me. I wish I could be free of the terrors that I had that year, but I can’t.
I thought I was going insane. Every day, I wrote in this diary, my only friend in the castle, and it wrote back. I’d tell it everything, especially things about Harry. But sometimes, after I wrote in it, I couldn’t remember what I did next. There was this blank spot in my memory where I could have been anywhere. Then I’d wake up, and I’d be somewhere but not remember how I got there, and I’d be covered in something or another. Rooster feathers, water, even blood.
When the school caretaker’s cat was petrified on Halloween, I was scared. I couldn’t remember where I went that night. Apparently I wasn’t at the feast, so I could have been anywhere. My brothers all thought it was because I was a cat lover, but I was upset because I thought it was me who almost killed it.
Then the attacks kept happening. Colin Creevey, a boy in my class, was attacked when he went out to visit Harry after a Quidditch accident. I should have been in bed, but one of my dorm mates said I wasn’t, so I might have done it again.
When Justin was attacked, I knew there was something wrong. I couldn’t remember what I was doing again. I started to wonder what it could be. Then it struck me. The diary always seemed so interested in the Chamber of Secrets, and what it was doing to the school. It didn’t take a genius to work it out. I tried to get rid of the diary by flushing it down the girls’ toilets on the second floor.
The next couple of months went smoothly. Well, almost smoothly. Two shocking things happened on one of the worst days of the year, Valentine’s Day. I say one of the worst days because when you don’t have someone you can be all lovey-dovey and cuddly with, it’s miserable.
That and I demonstrated that I am definitely insane.
I sent Harry a singing valentine, and the stupid dwarf-cupid-thing sang it in front of a corridor full of people! I was so embarrassed. Also, at that moment, I decided I was never going to write songs.
So there I was, embarrassed so much by the dwarf singing that ridiculous song, when I saw it. In Harry’s bag was the diary. Riddle’s diary. How he’d got his hands on it I couldn’t fathom, but he had it and that was all that mattered. What if he figured out how to use it? All the things I told it, and Harry would know it all. He’d know all these girlish fantasies I had about him and me running away into the sunset together, hand in hand, or snuggled up together in a nice cosy bed, or us kissing each other gently every now and again.
No, he couldn’t know, I had to get it back before he figured it out, providing he hadn’t already. That night he was in his dorm the whole time, so I couldn’t do it right there and then, but I knew it had to be soon. Trouble is it was tough finding a time when no-one was there. Finally, I settled for one of his Quidditch practises. I managed it the day before the Quidditch game, not nearly soon enough. By that time he’d surely have found out all my secrets. Still, it had to do.
The match day was horrible. Hermione was the next victim, along with another girl, and people were saying they didn’t see me at the match. I didn’t know what I was doing, as usual, and it just scared me more. I remember thinking that I had to tell someone, and who better than Harry, who probably knew everything about me anyway.
I was all set to tell him everything as soon as he walked back into the common room after the match. Then he came in, and all the courage I’d built up faded to nothing. I couldn’t do it. One look at his dejected face, normally so happy and full of life, and I think It would have been easier to kiss him than talk to him, which let me tell you, would never be easy.
No, I couldn’t lay more stress on his shoulders. So I waited. I waited a full three weeks, and then I plucked up the courage to tell him and my brother, Ron.
I was about to come out with it at breakfast, when the idiot Percy jumped in. there was no way I’d talk in front of Percy. I was barely ready to talk to Harry and Ron, let alone another of my annoying brothers. So I ran. I ran up the stairs and found the only thing that could console me.
And I don’t remember anything else after that. Nothing at all. It’s just a blank part of my mind. Days could have passed for all I knew. But eventually, I came around, and the sight that greeted me was amazing.
Harry Potter, the boy of my dreams, smiling down at me, a sword in his hand. My heroic saviour, my knight in shining armour. It wasn’t the typical view that a young girl gets of a brave man who would risk his life for her, with a white horse, helmet and castle, but at least I definitely knew he would risk his life for me.
He was covered in blood, from head to toe, his and some that was a deep green in colour. He was visibly sweating, his hair plastered down onto his forehead. It’s possibly the first time I’d seen it almost tamed.
My eyes travelled down his body, and landed on his arm, which he was holding with his other hand. Running down it, racing the blood and the sweat, was another liquid, copious in its amount of pouring from a large wound.
My saviour, my knight, my Harry, had been struck down in the effort it took to save me. He was going to die for me. It wasn’t a girlish dream, it was real.
And I suddenly realised I didn’t want that dream anymore.
I didn’t want my Harry sacrificing himself for me. I wasn’t worth that. I wasn’t worth him even coming down to that disgusting place and working up a sweat, let alone death.
But he was going to.
My memory blanked out again. I don’t think it had anything to do with the diary this time. I think my whole world had crashed down around me, and wiped everything from my mind. I didn’t see what happened in the few seconds I spaced out, but the next thing I knew, Harry was standing before me, holding out his injured arm to help me up. I took his hand gently, determined not to hurt his wound.
But the wound was gone.
In the short time where I forgot to use my eyes, Harry had healed his wound. He was going to live. I’d have jumped on him, but I was so afraid he was going to hate me for what I did. I remember stammering some things which even I didn’t understand, let alone him. And he comforted me.
Harry Potter comforted me.
I grabbed his arm tightly as we walked out of the large tunnel together. I didn’t want to let go of him. I was scared, not for my life, but for his. I thought I’d lost him.
The rest of the year passed without incident, and my first year was over. Only, it didn’t feel like it was. Perhaps it’s because I didn’t remember half of it.
So summer came, and I was sent back to the Burrow with nothing but my brothers to keep me company. I didn’t have the one person that I wanted to be with me. Harry Potter was not there.
So many times, I picked up a quill and started writing some sort of letter to him. But thank you didn’t seem to work, and anything else I was too scared to put quill to parchment, let alone send it off. So I didn’t send him anything.
I got my hopes up a little too much when I was thinking that he might write me a letter. He didn’t, I got nothing from him either. I consoled myself by saying he was having the same trouble that I was, and couldn’t put what he wanted to say into words.
I was deluding myself. He didn’t like me, and I shouldn’t hold my breath for him ever liking me. My second year basically flew by in a haze of hope and disappointment, because the boy who saved my life, and nearly died to do so, didn’t have the courage to ask me out.
He wasn’t going to ask me out, that much was simple. My third year he had the perfect chance, but no, he was all strung up on Cho to do it. Because she’s beautiful, a good quidditch player, smart and makes guys fawn over her as soon as she walks into a room, and I’m none of those things. I’m this little, ugly, freckled unpopular girl who has six brothers all likely to hex the bits off any boy who touches me. Who’s going to want that? Certainly not the amazing Harry Potter.
He got turned down by Cho to the Yule Ball. I shouldn’t feel happy really, I should’ve been sad for him, but I really felt so happy. I thought perhaps he’d ask me, but no, I had to say I was going with Neville. Then again, Ron shouldn’t have suggested it. Harry should have. Harry didn’t want to go with me, and he never would.
So in my fourth year I had to take action and get over him. He didn’t deserve me. I’d become good friends with Michael Corner since the Yule Ball, and I finally found a boy who had the courage to ask me, and get over his stupid pride. I instantly accepted.
He and I were never going to be perfect. It was my first relationship, and I was strung up on Harry. Still, I did my best. I tried my hardest to get over this stupid crush on Harry, which I’d had for too many years. I wanted to live my life, and I was going to.
When Michael kissed me, it wasn’t what I was expecting. All the girls in my dorm had talked about first kisses, how they were so special, but this didn’t bring any emotions to me at all. No, in fact, it made me feel downright miserable. It wasn’t Harry that had done it. It was Michael Corner, who would never give his life up for me.
When Michael dumped me it was such a relief. I could breathe again. Being in the wrong relationship isn’t fair on either of you, but I didn’t have the bottle to end it. Finally, when he had a go at me for beating Ravenclaw at Quidditch, I snapped, and left him. He went off to comfort Cho, who had messed up her chances with Harry.
Why could my ex and his ex get together, but not me and him?
So I tried again. This time it was my turn to go for it, not like with Michael, where he did everything. I went for Dean, one of Harry’s mates. He wasn’t Harry, not brave, gorgeous and all around amazing, but he wasn’t bad.
And I led it. I instigated everything. From starting the relationship, to first kiss, I did it all. Thing is, he had this annoying habit of trying to help me with everything I did, like I was disabled or something. I didn’t need the help, and I didn’t want it. Eventually I snapped with him too, and he became the second victim of Ginny Weasley.
So I went back to Harry. I and he had become such good friends over the months, especially when he had fallen out with Ron or Hermione, or they fell out with each other. But I never expected what happened next.
We finished the Quidditch match, the last game of the season. I was seeker, and I’d won the game for us. Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t even there to see it. He was in a detention with Snape. But we won, and we were partying in the common room, when everything went deadly silent.
I knew it had to be him coming. I waited, ready to erupt with everyone else. When the portrait hole opened, and he stepped in, the noise was deafening. But I tuned out of it. I ran forward and jumped into his arms.
And he held me closer than Michael or Dean had ever done. I found it amazing how his arms seemed to wrap around me exactly right. And slowly, I watched as he leaned forward and kissed me.
I was in shock, and didn’t respond for a second, but then I was kissing him back in earnest. This was what a first kiss should have been like. Tender, loving, and amazing. I could actually feel the love, which I could never do with anyone else. It was perfect.
Unfortunately, the next month flew by, and before I knew it, we were in battle. Harry had gone off, leaving me worried sick, and then the huge fight broke out, leaving our headmaster dead.
I could feel the loss that Harry felt every time I held him. He was broken, defeated. It was horrible watching him moping around, with no sense of direction.
Then, at Dumbledore’s funeral, he dashed my hopes.
He ended it.
Said that he had to or I’d be in danger. He never thought that no matter what, he had feelings for me, and it didn’t matter if it was open or not, I was in danger. No, all that mattered was that he felt guilty. I could have hit him. I could have cried for weeks. But I didn’t, I held strong, somehow.
My knight was gallantly riding off into battle once again.
Yet I knew he’d come back to me.
After all, he was my Harry.
A/N: sorry about the cheesy ending, but I thought it necessary. Cheesy endings are always necessary. a second chapter will be on the way soon. thanks for reading, hope you come back for more.
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