|
Learning to Love | ||||
|
Category: Alternate Universe, Post-HBP, Post-Hogwarts Characters:Harry/Ginny, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Luna Lovegood, Oliver Wood, Oliver Wood, Other, Remus Lupin, Remus Lupin Genres: Action/Adventure, Comedy, Fluff, Romance Warnings: None Rating: G Reviews: 2 Summary: *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated in over 2 years *** The war is over, and Harry Potter has been removed to the 'safe house' to recover. While there, he meets a figure from his dreams, who also happens to be an old friend. She teaches him what it means to love someone and how to accept that they'll get hurt. Hitcount: Story Total: 5974 Disclaimer: Harry Potter Publishing Rights © J.K.R. Note the opinions in this story are my own and in no way represent the owners of this site. This story subject to copyright law under transformative use. No compensation is made for this work. Author's Notes: Wow, I'm finally getting this posted! This is a series I've wanted to do for a long time of Harry and Ginny spending a lot of time together and finally letting each other in. Oh, and don't worry - there is definitely a happy ending somewhere in sight, if only on the distant horizon. Enjoy!
Some acknowledgments: this story goes out to every Harry Potter fan, every Harry/Ginny shipper, every SIYE member, and especially everyone who has read, favorited, and reviewed my stories. Hearing from you is a delight every time: it's kind of pathetic, actually, how eagerly I run to my computer to find out if anyone else has reviewed. Your opinions mean a lot to me, and now that there's no more canon Harry Potter on the way, this is all we've got. Your input is appreciated, so just remember that the next time you get to the bottom of the page and it has that review box. Thank you so much to the people who say either that I'm one of their favorite authors or my stories are some of their favorites. Thank you especially to whomever (or maybe several whomevers) nominated 'Valentine's Day' for Trinket awards. I was literally speechless, and still am overwhelmed. Thank you so much. Ok, OK, enough Author's Notes, on with the show! |
|
|||
|
“Harry.” He didn’t open his eyes at first. When his mind couldn’t fall back into the dream — the glorious dream — Harry Potter slowly took in his surroundings. He knew that voice. “Hermione?” Sure enough, when he sat up, his bushy-haired friend stood before him, face expressionless. “Did I…die?” She sighed impatiently. “No.” “Then…he’s gone?” “Yes, Voldemort’s gone.” As Harry stood up gingerly, Hermione frowned. “The whole Wizarding world is peeved you didn’t ask for help. For goodness sake, Harry, look at yourself!” He had to admit she was on to something. The left sleeve of his shirt was soaked with blood, and his ankle felt numb, as if disconnected from the rest of his body. He clutched his chest against a sharp, deep pain that was there and gone again. To avoid Hermione’s reproachful gaze, Harry looked out at the golden fields that stretched din every direction. It seemed that the large willow supporting him was the only tree. “Where are we? All I remember is diving at Voldemort’s wand and everything went black.” “When we found out where you were, Ron and I managed to turn Voldemort’s wand into a portkey. We think traveling through space like that was too much for you in your current level of health.” “But then, how is Voldemort gone?” “You finished him off, Harry. The Death Eaters were closing in, and that’s when you dove for the wand.” Hermione peered for a long time into the distance, then began wading through what now appeared to be wheat. “Where are you going?” he called, struggling to follow her. “To the house.” “Which house?” “The safe house, where you’ll be staying while you recover.” “How far is it?” “Not far at all. See?” Harry didn’t just look, he gaped. A giant house — more like a palace — rose up suddenly before them. The fields dropped away, and emerald lawns appeared, spotted strategically with trees. “Go on,” Hermione urged. She pushed Harry up the marble stairs that led to a pair of giant doors. “But-” “You’ll know her,” Hermione supplied mysteriously. With that, she turned on the spot, and was gone. Harry turned helplessly to the doors. There were no handles. He shoved at one with his shoulder. “Please open?” He fell inward as the doors swung open. “OK,” he muttered, pushing himself up with his good arm. For a moment, a large foyer with smooth marble floors was lit by the sun that streamed in, but then the door closed as suddenly as it had opened. The cool, dark air hung loosely around Harry. Then it happened. It was very simple. A pair of women began walking down the giant staircase in the center of the hall, which was now illuminated by a strip of white light. One was a short woman with dark curls, but the other was a figure from Harry’s dream. Harry’s imagination had formed her only slightly differently. She had been wearing a long, flowing white gown when Harry had seen her. Here, the woman wore Muggle jeans and a loose white shirt. Her hair, thick and red, was pulled into a neat ponytail. Harry gasped. He knew that freckled face. “Marie, tell the cooks to prepare a true feast tonight.” The woman was speaking to her companion. She paused thoughtfully halfway down the steps. “And about the gold room, down the hall from mine…” She trailed off. Her gaze had fallen on Harry, who stood immobile in front of the doors. The woman’s mouth formed a delicate “o.” “M-marie,” the first woman said faintly, taking a step down, “would you go do those things, please?” “As you wish, miss.” The other, clearly a maid, turned and hurried up the stairs. As she went, both Harry and the beautiful woman on the stairs began moving towards each other as if in a trance. The door above slammed shut. “Harry!” screamed the woman, dashing the last few meters and throwing herself at him. “Ginny!” Harry laughed as Ginny Weasley bowled him over. Ginny clung tightly to him as they fell. He grinned. “Gin?” “Oh, Harry! I thought you were arriving later!” Ginny beamed at him. “I didn’t know you were even here! This is amazing!” Ginny pulled back, blushing. “I must look a mess.” “No!” Harry said quickly. Then, more slowly: “No. You look beautiful. You really do. I mean, look at me! I’m not exactly a handsome sight, am I?” Ginny’s eyes suddenly filled with tears. “Hey, what’s this?” Harry murmured, gently tapping her chin up. “Oh, Harry, it’s just that I m-missed you so much! And y-you went off to fight V-voldemort, and there was no news, and I was s-so scared!” Harry helped her stand. “It’s OK. I’m here, I’m OK, Voldemort’s gone.” “No, you’re not OK!” Harry was surprised by the fire in her voice. Ginny stepped back, batting a strand of hair impatiently out of her face. “Here I’ve been sobbing about nothing, and you’re hurt!” Attempting to calm her, Harry began, “I’m really-” But Ginny grabbed his good arm and pulled him away. “I’m really fine!” Harry insisted as Ginny sat him down on a bench in a side chamber. Ginny made an indignant noise in her throat and plopped herself on a couch behind him. Tucking her wand behind her ear, she gently worked his tattered gray shirt over his head. She swallowed slightly as her eyes wandered his bared back, but when she leaned towards his arm it was with a very professional air. Frowning, she ran a finger down the long gash in his left shoulder, then retraced the path with her wand. With a slight sizzle, the pink skin around the wound began to fuse, leaving behind only a thin, dark red line. Harry turned his head to inspect, but Ginny slapped his face forward again and began smoothing a cotton bandage over his arm. “You’re just making more work for yourself,” muttered Harry, but it was with a smile that he rubbed his cheek and said, “You do well for a seventeen-year-old.” “Eighteen,” Ginny corrected. When he glanced at her, she blushed and mumbled, “In August.” Harry laughed, and she looked back at his shoulder. It was nice to hear him laugh. Finally, she sat back. “I can’t heal it completely, because it’s Dark magic. Now, what about that ankle?” “That I can do myself.” “I don’t doubt it,” Ginny replied. Harry picked up a book from a nearby table and began paging through it. Ginny watched, soaking in the way he leaned close to the pages on occasion, the way the muscles in his back flexed when he shifted positions. She realized her hand was still resting on his arm. Slowly, without thinking, she ran it over his shoulder. It was warm and smooth. She sucked in a breath. Harry, who was sitting very still, asked, “What?” “Your skin is so soft…” she whispered. “So is yours.” Ginny was startled. It was unlike Harry to say anything like that. The urge to touch him again came over her, and for once she couldn’t hold back. She wrapped her arms tightly around his chest. “I’m glad you’re back,” she murmured, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. Harry was silent, but — Ginny hoped — it was a contemplative silence. She heard him sniff slightly and found herself startled for at least the second time that afternoon. Harry was not given to open displays of emotion. When at last Ginny pulled back, determined to become formal again, her right hand brushed something wet on his chest. “Harry,” she said dangerously. He dove for his shirt. “It’s nothing, Gin, I-” But something was whistling in a desk drawer. Smirking, Ginny removed a crystalline lie-detector, not unlike a Sneakoscope. “There, it’s not nothing. How many more cuts do you have?” “Four,” Harry muttered. Ginny clucked angrily. “Three are here-” He pointed to a spot below his ribs. “But they’re all very small.” “And the last?” In response, Harry turned to face Ginny. A single long, wide, bloody gash extended across Harry’s chest from right shoulder to left hip. Ginny gasped. “See?” Harry swore. “I’ll heal this one myself. Damn, I knew I shouldn’t-” “No!” Ginny looked livid. She grabbed the hand that was reaching for Harry’s grey shirt. “But look how you reacted! I don’t want anyone to have to endure-” “No, no, no!” If it had not been Ginny, Harry could’ve laughed. She stood before him, red in the face and eyes swimming with tears, stomping her feet like a temperamental child. “Oh, Harry, it’s not because of how it looks. I mean, in part it is, but it’s because it’s you, and you’re hurt, and I…I feel like I’m hurt too, and it’s — it’s so confusing!” She burst into tears and buried her face in her hands. Deciding his wounds could wait, Harry buttoned the dirty shirt and pulled Ginny gingerly to him with his right arm. “Let’s take a walk,” he whispered, feeling her small, fragile form pressed against him. She nodded. As they wound through the blossoming cherry trees behind the house, Harry and Ginny seemed content to walk in silence. Hands tightly clasped, faces turned to the sun that was warm — not too hot — and the intensity of their previous conversation finally wearing away, they began to really comprehend that they were once more in each other’s presence. Harry glanced at Ginny, heart swelling. They hadn’t been alone together in so long…too long, since at least before Dumbledore’s funeral. Ginny, feeling Harry’s eyes upon her, returned his smile. “So, how’ve you been?” she asked casually, swinging their joined hands. “Same old, same old.” “Fighting Voldemort and all that?” “Yeah. And you? How long’ve you been here?” She shrugged. “A year, give or take a couple weeks. Once the big battles started breaking out, St. Mungo’s started testing seventh years at Hogwarts. Hermione thinks I have a natural aptitude for Healing,” she finished proudly. Harry grinned at her. “You can add it to your list of other amazing talents.” Ginny scoffed. “Like what?” He stared into the sky as if pondering her question. “Being an amazing at Quidditch, being incredibly funny, being a great friend…” He glanced at her cautiously. “Not questioning me when I broke up with you.” She didn’t meet his gaze. “Your reasons were stupid, Harry. Noble, but stupid. But it was your decision to make.” They fell into an awkward silence. They’d reached that subject again: their break-up. It was as if an unspoken agreement to not mention it had just been breached, and the following moments were brittle and uncomfortable. Ginny finally spoke, her fingers slipping out of Harry’s. He snatched almost hungrily at them, but she was already running ahead. “I have to show you something.” Bemused, he followed her more slowly. He suddenly came round a particularly large tree and, with a gasp, realized that they’d walked straight into the center of a heavily wooded area. A waterfall tumbled down a cliffside into a sparkling pool at Harry’s feet. Ginny sat, cross-legged, upon a ledge halfway up the cliff, grinning down at him. “What is this place?” he called up to her in wonder. “It’s my secret grotto.” She bit her lip, gazing serenely at the waterfall splashing not five feet from her. “I came here when the war got to be too much. Now it’s over, though, so I just come here when I have nothing more to do.” Smiling, she looked back to Harry. “It’s not that often, though. I thought you might like it.” “It’s incredible!” Ginny jumped nimbly to another ledge below her, then onto the soft forest floor. “I’m glad you like it. But we really should be getting back to the house.” Harry watched carefully as they exited the grove, but he couldn’t find any specific point where the clearing ended and the perfect lawns began. The noise of the waterfall had long since faded. All that could be seen was that abnormally large tree. “Ginny-” he began, turning to face her. She turned, her foot caught on an object embedded in the ground, and she fell, arms flailing. Harry was too far back to catch her, though he leapt forward vainly. She made a soft noise at the impact, but Harry saw her head hit a rather large, sharp rock, and his heart leapt to his throat. “Gin, oh God, Ginny!” he moaned, falling to his knees beside her. There was no response. Desperate, he scooped her carefully into his arms and ran. The house seemed so big, the end of this side would never end… But then he too fell as Ginny had before him. His feet caught each other beneath him, and they both went sprawling. Dazed, Harry began to sit up. Then, it struck him. Ginny was laughing. He rolled over to stare at her. She lay inches from him, her whole body racked with giggles. Tears streamed down her face. She was actually laughing. “Oh, that was brilliant!” she moaned. “Why, you little-” He threw himself at her, tickling her, poking, pinching, and otherwise causing slight discomfort to every bit of her he could reach. “OK, Harry, OK!” she shrieked, grabbing his hands and pulling them past her shoulders so he couldn't reach her stomach. Harry grinned down at the redhead. She was beautiful. “You have to admit that was amazing,” Ginny panted, letting his hands fall. They slid almost unconsciously to her shoulders. For a long moment, Harry gazed down at Ginny in an almost unconscious daze. He felt more attracted to her than he ever had. His right hand flowed in remembered patterns up her neck, over her cheek, tracing her jaw bone, till it found its place behind her head, tucked in her folds of red hair. They both leaned in simultaneously, Ginny’s lips parting slightly, Harry’s breath coming raggedly. Their lips touched, and the last two years dropped away. Pure, overwhelming, incredible ecstasy soared through Harry’s veins. Kissing Ginny, his Ginny…Not even Quidditch could compare. He ran his hand across her cheek, wanting only to feel her, wanting only to know she was really there, that this was really happening. He vaguely wondered that she was an even better kisser than he remembered. He pulled back sharply, breath coming heavy. Her chest heaved against his. “Harry?” she asked quietly. “I can’t, Ginny. I swore to protect you.” “Yes, but Voldemort’s gone.” Her eyes begged him to accept that. “But there are still Death Eaters, and other dangers. I don’t know what I would do if something happened to you.” She was silent for a long while, then she murmured, “It’s your decision. I don’t really give a damn about being hurt if it’s for you or anyone you care about, but if you really think that distancing yourself from me will protect me, so be it.” They stood awkwardly, neither meeting the other’s gaze. “We should get back to the house,” Ginny finally mumbled. “There’s going to be a big feast tonight. Everyone’ll be there…I was kind of hoping you’d be the guest of honor.” Their gaze met again, and Harry struggled to push down the electric shock. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.” “Well then.” “Yeah.” They walked quietly for the rest of the journey around the house, up the steps, into the front hall, and along the many corridors and stairways to their rooms. Ginny murmured a soft “I’ll see you downstairs, then” when they reached her room. She turned to open her door, but Harry, about to enter his room just down the hall, called out to her. “Hey, Gin.” She looked up. “Harry?” “I just...” He walked closer. “I really, really don’t want to have to distance myself from you. I mean, it’s been hell without you these last couple of years.” Ginny smiled sadly. “Maybe you just need a couple days to get over the shock of Voldemort being gone.” “You sound so convinced.” “Harry, I got over you, but I never gave up,” she said softly. “Then suddenly you came back into my life two years ago and wanted me to give you my heart. And I did. I feel something for you, Harry, that I’ve never felt for anyone. If it takes you a little while to let me in, OK. I can wait. But Harry, I’ve been waiting. I would die for you. Sometimes really caring about someone is accepting that they may get hurt and that that’s inevitable.” She shrugged. “It scares me every time you get hurt. I’ll never get over that. It doesn’t mean I’m going to push you away, though.” Harry stood blinking in the dim hallway a long time after Ginny had gone into her room. A/N: Definitely room for sequel, don't you think? Don't worry, I have this already planned out. There are a few more chapters I'll be shooting your way as soon as possible (though after August 1 I'll be writing DH stories). See you then! Also, I'm taking a random poll: which of my stories are you most anticipating the sequel for? This will help me in deciding which chapter to write next. OK, I swear this is my last note: does anyone want to beta-read for me? I think I had someone beta for me once, but it kind of fell apart. Can't hurt, right? Thank you for bearing with me through my impossible Author's notes. |
| Reviews 2 |
|
