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SIYE Time:8:31 on 28th March 2024
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Need
By iluvfanfics

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Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Fluff, General, Romance
Warnings: Extreme Language, Sexual Situations
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 725
Summary: Their nightmares and demons bound them together. Their love helped them to survive. Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley knew they needed each other; the trouble was in admitting it.
Hitcount: Story Total: 276962; Chapter Total: 16301
Awards: View Trophy Room




Author's Notes:
Everyone keeps saying: “Don’t add the Dean/Ginny thing! It wouldn’t be right!” In fact, most of you seem to be sick to your stomachs at the thought of it. So, I thought I would just take a few minutes and reassure you – the Dean thing WILL happen (calm down, calm down) but his appearance will be minimal. This story has focused a lot on Harry’s emotional maturity, but this is not the case with Ginny. I hope I make that more clear as we go on. She is a lot more clueless as to her feelings, and she’ll be using Dean more as an escape than anything – and because Harry is a bit of a coward. Their relationship will last longer than Harry and Cho’s did, but hang in there – Harry and Ginny both eventually come around and then it’s blissful happiness for the rest of the story (well, except for that whole Voldemort thing). Just a few more chapters to go before they are together forever, but oh, it’s going to be a bumpy ride! Thanks for the continued support and I promise if you keep reading all your Harry/Ginny dreams will come true!




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Chapter 16

Ginny watched unobtrusively as Harry flew in circles around the makeshift Quidditch pitch behind the Burrow. He was avoiding everyone again, and she had been, quite frankly, at a loss as how to deal with the situation. She couldn’t decide if he needed to hit something or have a good cry.

So much had happened since that night at the Ministry when Sirius had died. Ginny had passed out after Voldemort had possessed them both and woken up in the Hogwarts hospital wing. She’d barely seen Harry, although he had stopped by to make sure she was okay. They’d had a tearful reunion but she’d scarcely seen him since then. She mourned for Sirius with Ron and Hermione
instead of with Harry, who she presumed mourned alone.

Surprisingly, it had been Dean Thomas who had stepped up and made Ginny feel almost normal again. Ginny knew he’d been interested in her since the beginning of the year and had been waiting for him to approach her. She supposed the obvious absence of Harry had given Dean courage. She had been pleasantly surprised to find that Dean Thomas was funny, insightful and intelligent; he had a nice smile that made her feel warm inside. More importantly, he was interested in her, and his presence apparently did not upset Tom Riddle because Ginny had not had any horrible dreams about Dean dying.

She was still debating about whether or not to be his girlfriend; they had exchanged several letters on the subject, but Ginny was dragging her feet. The situation with Harry seemed more pressing as the days went by, and it was enough to focus on her best friend instead of herself for a change.

She’d left Harry pretty much alone in the week since he’d arrived at the Burrow. Dumbledore had rescued him from the Dursleys’ rather quickly this year, and they were all grateful. She had watched as both Hermione and her mother tried to make sure Harry was dealing with Sirius’ death, but neither had been able to break the icy shell that surrounded him. He’d made a big speech assuring them he was fine because Sirius wouldn’t have wanted him to dwell on things, but Ginny hadn’t bought one moment of it.

Something more than Sirius’ death was bothering him. Whatever it was, it seemed to weigh on him, bending his shoulders and slowing his gait. He was having nightmares every night – she knew because he’d been put in Percy’s old room directly across the hallway from hers. She had tried to go to him a couple of times, but the door had been locked, and he was either refusing to let her in or he couldn’t hear her through the nightmares in his head. She’d resisted pounding on the door only because she hadn’t wanted to wake up the whole house.

But it was frustrating – watching him and not being able to help him; not even knowing what he needed. She suspected he didn’t want to be nagged about it or pushed or prodded. He had several closed-door conversations with Ron and Hermione, but they didn’t seem to help much, and Hermione kept looking at Ginny with a desperate fear in her eyes. “Do something” the eyes urged, but Ginny could only shrug her shoulders in her own ignorance of how to handle the situation.

It wasn’t that she didn’t know what he was feeling. She knew all too well the pain and guilt of being responsible for someone’s death. But she hadn’t loved Michael Corner like Harry had loved Sirius. Hell, she hadn’t loved Michael like she had loved Sirius. But to Harry, Sirius had represented freedom, acceptance, his parents…so many things. All of which were now gone. And even though Ginny knew it wasn’t Harry’s fault that Bellatrix Lestrange had killed her own cousin, she expected the blame he was placing on his actions.

Ginny had come to a conclusion on how to handle things only this morning. The answer had come to her in a bright moment of clarity, and when she sauntered down to breakfast this morning, she’d met Hermione’s eyes with a determination that had her friend smiling.

The solution was easy: She wasn’t going to do anything.

It sounded simple, but it wasn’t. She didn’t intend to leave him alone, but she wasn’t going to talk a lot or get in his way either. She was going to fly with him on the Quidditch pitch, sit with him on the couch, find a way into his room during his nightmares, all without really talking to him. She would show Harry that she was waiting for him to come to her – that she was there for him whenever he was ready. She wouldn’t cover things up by making jokes and pretending nothing was wrong. She would acknowledge his pain and right to silence by joining him in it.

She’d advised Hermione and Ron to stay away for the next few days knowing that her behaviour was probably going to tick Harry off. At this point, even a reaction of anger would be something she could work with. She could understand anger – hell, she was angry herself most of the time.

Ginny stepped out from behind the trees, her brother’s broom in one hand and a Quaffle in the other. She mounted the broom and flew up to Harry, forcing him to look her way. She held up the Quaffle with a questioning look, and when he nodded, she threw it at him and backed away, waiting for him to throw it so she could catch it.

They spent the next hour playing catch with the Quaffle. The throws got wilder as they tested each other’s flying abilities. It was only when Ginny got tangled in a tree trying to catch the Quaffle Harry had thrown that he called a halt to the game.

“You can go in,” he said, trying to catch his breath. He’d been laughing at Ginny’s attempts to free herself from the tree. “I’m going to fly a little bit longer.”

“Me too,” Ginny said. “Sometimes I just like to cruise, you know?”

Harry looked a little irritated, but didn’t say anything. Ginny let the Quaffle drop back to the ground, and they flew leisurely for another half hour. Sometimes they flew side-by-side, other times they separated. She showed him the best path to take through the wood,s and they raced each other, dodging limbs and branches at a breakneck speed.

When Harry finally landed, announcing he was going to go in for a shower, Ginny let him go. She flew by herself for another ten minutes before returning to the Burrow. Harry had finished in the loo by the time she got there so she took a quick bath and went searching for him. It didn’t take long to find him on the roof outside his room. It was nearly dusk, and she smiled briefly at him before taking a seat on the sun-warmed shingles. They watched the sun set together without saying a word.

When the sun had finally disappeared over the horizon, Harry turned to her with a questioning glance that seemed to ask, “What are you going to do now?” She smiled gently at him again and stood up, brushing off the seat of her pants as she did so. He looked up at her, and she reached down with one hand to run her fingers through his hair. When he tried to jerk his head away from her, she tightened her grip and shook his head a little before letting go and leaving the roof, not sure if she’d made her point or not.

It was 2 a.m. when Ginny was awakened by Harry’s nightmare cries from across the hallway. She’d left her doorway cracked so she could hear him, and she tiptoed across the hallway. She was grateful their rooms were on the lowest landing and far away from her parents’ room.

Harry didn’t know it, but she had borrowed Fred’s wand and placed a special charm on his door before they went to bed. He would lock it, but she could always get in.

She opened the door as quickly and silently as possible. Harry was a dark figure writhing on the sheets. Moonlight from the open window shone in and highlighted his sweaty face which was twisted in anguish.

Ginny closed the door behind her, took a deep breath and said sharply, “Harry!”

He stilled, breathing heavily and opened his eyes. Ginny didn’t wait for him to realize that she was in the room with him. She stepped closer and handed him a glass of water she’d brought with her before sitting on the edge of the bed. He gulped the water greedily and handed the glass back to her before collapsing on his pillows.

“Thanks,” he said gratefully.

“You’re welcome.”

Harry probably expected her to ask about his nightmare, but she stuck with her new rule of maintaining silence and pulled back the covers on his bed. He looked shocked when she crawled underneath them, but scooted over to make room for her as she settled herself against his side, wrapped an arm around his chest and let her head rest on the pillow with a sigh.

“Comfy?” he asked dryly.

“Very,” she yawned. “Now shut it and go back to sleep.”

“You’re gonna get caught you know,” he warned. “If your mum finds you she’ll out-screech the ghoul.”

“What part of ‘shut it’ did you not understand?” she retorted. “Besides, I can handle mum.”

Harry snorted and rolled over onto his left side. She snuggled up behind him, her breasts flattened against his back, her arm still wrapped around his chest. She could feel his heart still pounding from the nightmare underneath her hand. She didn’t ask him if he was all right or what he was thinking about. She just closed her eyes and went to sleep.

******

Ginny snuck out of Harry’s room early the next morning. She’d woken up with her face pressed into Harry’s chest and his arms wrapped around her, but had managed to escape before he woke up and things turned awkward. She took a shower and dressed quickly before heading down to breakfast.

Harry was sitting at the table still dressed in his pyjamas and reading the Daily Prophet while her mother cooked breakfast.

“Morning, Fury,” Harry said in a distracted tone from behind his newspaper.

She took a seat next to him and kicked him in the shin for using her nickname. She was pleased when he smiled faintly.

“Harry,” Mrs. Weasley pivoted from the stove, her wand poised over a pan of sausages “why do you call Ginny ‘Fury?’”

“Because he’s a prat,” Ginny answered around a mouthful of toast. She glared at Harry.

“Because she’s like a never ending tornado of fury,” Harry grinned at her mother. “I mean, you’ve seen her angry, right? Her hair lights up like she’s on fire. No one does furious like Fury here.”

Ginny put down her toast calmly before punching Harry on the shoulder. Hard.

“Hey!” Harry said, rubbing his shoulder and trying not to laugh at her. “It’s an affectionate nickname.”

Ginny mumbled under her breath what sort of nickname she’d like to give Harry, but thankfully her mother didn’t hear her.

Mrs. Weasley served Harry and Ginny their breakfast before marching up the stairs to drag Ron and the twins out of bed. They ate in silence until Harry cleared his throat.

“Um…thanks for last night. For you know, waking me up and — and staying with me.” He kept his eyes firmly on his plate as he spoke.

“You’re welcome,” Ginny said. She reached over his plate to snag the front page of the Prophet and snapped it open to read the day’s headlines.

“It’s funny though,” Harry said conversationally. “I could have sworn that I locked my door before going to bed.”

“Really?” Ginny said sweetly. “I didn’t have any trouble getting in.”

Harry gave a grunt and they finished their breakfast in silence until Ron, Fred and George clumped down the stairs and entered the kitchen still rubbing the sleep from their eyes.

Breakfast quickly turned into a noisy affair, and Ginny watched out of the corner of her eye as Harry carefully played his part. He was pretending to be okay, but she appeared to be the only one who noticed it. Even Hermione, who had come down to breakfast already dressed and ready for the day, seemed to be relieved that Harry was laughing and joking with Ron and the twins. She shot Ginny a grateful look, but Ginny pretended not to notice.

Ginny spent the rest of the day in relative silence with Harry. They barely spoke as they flew in the Quidditch pitch, went for a walk into the village with Ron and Hermione, worked on homework essays and peeled potatoes for her mother. It was only when they were degnoming the garden before dinner that Harry approached her.

“Tell me, Fury,” he said as he bent down to grab a gnome that was hiding underneath a bush, “what exactly is it you’re hoping to accomplish?”

Ginny eyed him speculatively, wondering how far she could push this conversation. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.” She snagged a gnome that had been trying to sneak past her and spun it around three times before letting it sail over the garden wall.

“Come off it, Ginny,” Harry said. “I know you’ve got some sort of plan going – I can see that scheming glint in your eye. I just can’t figure out what it is yet. So why you don’t just save us this silly guessing game and tell me what’s going on?”

“It’s not a game,” she snapped at him. “I’m not doing anything.”

“Please,” he scoffed. “How stupid do you think I am? I know you’re up to something.”

Ginny shrugged and went back to degnoming. “Well, if you think you know me so well, then why don’t you tell me what I’m doing? Take a guess.”

Harry stood up straight, his hands on his jean-clad hips, and Ginny fought back a laugh. It looked eerily like he was getting ready to chastise a child.

“This is about Sirius. I think you privately agree with everyone else,” he said, finally. “Even though you won’t say, you don’t think I’ve dealt with Sirius’ death and you’re hanging out with me hoping that I’ll eventually have some big breakdown and you’ll be there to catch me.”

Damn. Ginny thought she’d been more subtle. Oh well, no point in denying it at this point.

She raised one eyebrow. “Is it working?”

Harry’s face turned into a scowl. “How many times do I have to tell you people, I’m bloody fine.”

Ginny raised the other eyebrow. “I’m not just ‘people,’ Harry. Who do you think you’re trying to fool? You’re not fine.”

With a low growl, Harry spun around to grab a gnome that was just about to bite his ankle and hurled it over the wall. “I AM FINE!” He shouted as he let the gnome fly. “Why won’t anyone believe me!”

“Because it’s not normal!” Ginny shouted back. “It’s not normal for you to be fine. Sirius is dead-“

“I KNOW SIRIUS IS DEAD, GINNY! Why does everyone begin every sentence that way? I watched him die!”

Harry’s face was red but Ginny was pretty sure it wasn’t from the exertion of degnoming. Good – finally some anger.

Ginny crossed her arms over her chest and said stubbornly, “Sirius died and you think it’s your fault. It’s not.”

“That’s it?” he asked disbelievingly. “Those are your words of wisdom? ‘It’s not.’ Wow, thanks, Ginny – I feel so much better!”

“What else do you want me to say, Harry? It isn’t your fault. But I know what it’s like to lose someone and blame yourself for it so I know there is little I can say to make you feel better.”

“So what is this all about then?” Harry asked, clearly frustrated. “Why have you been my little shadow?”

“I’m not waiting for you to break down, Harry,” Ginny said gently. “I’m just trying to make a point.”

“What point would that be?” he asked wearily.

She looked down at the ground and scuffed the toe of her sneaker in the dirt. “I just…I wanted to show you that I’m here for you…like you’ve been there for me and I thought well…that you might need me...”

Harry sighed and ran a hand down his face. “I don’t know what I need, Ginny. I feel like I’m drowning and have forgotten how to swim. I can’t sleep, I have nightmares every night. And the person I would normally talk to about such things is dead – because I was so stupid. If I’d listened to Hermione or to you, Sirius might still be alive.”

“Maybe talking about Sirius, about what happened, would help with the nightmares,” Ginny offered.

A stony mask fell over Harry’s face. “I’m not talking about the nightmares, Ginny. So don’t even ask.”

Ginny hid her surprise and nodded. “Fine, but you know that Sirius wouldn’t have wanted you to be this way. He really would have wanted you to move on.”

“How can I move on, Ginny?” asked Harry bleakly. He looked up at her and for the first time she could see the depth of his pain. His eyes were haunted, and they had dark circles underneath them. “Sirius is gone.”

“I…I feel empty,” he said. “Like there’s nothing left of me. I’m so tired.” His shoulders slumped and his body sagged.

Ginny felt her heart break. She stepped forward and put her hand on his shoulder. “Then hold onto me,” she said urgently. “If there’s nothing left, you can hold onto me until you find it again.”

“I’m tired, Ginny,” Harry’s voice cracked. “I’m tired of fighting.”

“We keep going,” Ginny made her voice hard. “We keep going until we’re dead or there’s nothing left to fight.”

“Why?” he whispered.

Ginny gripped both shoulders in her hands. “Because there’s still some good in this world, Harry…and it’s worth fighting for.” She shook him a little. “And if you ever tell anyone I said something so monumentally sappy I’ll cut off your bollocks.”

That made him smile, but it still wasn’t enough. She lifted up on her tiptoes and kissed him gently on the lips. She pecked him once and then again, pressing harder this time – forcing him to respond to her. He pressed back for only a moment and then jerked his head away, confusion and despair warring together on his features. She wasn’t sure what he saw in her eyes, but he backed away, causing her hands to drop back to her sides.

“No,” he said in a low voice. “You can’t kiss this away for me, Ginny.” He shoved his hands into his pockets and took another step backwards. “If there is any good left then I can’t seem to find it. I’m sorry.”

He spun on his heel and walked slowly away from the garden towards the woods behind the house, his head bent.

Ginny let him go. She tried to ignore the whispers of Tom in her head, but even she wondered why Harry couldn’t find enough good in her to keep him going.

******

For the next week, Harry remained more aloof than ever. Ginny put aside answering Dean’s questions about their relationship one more time and shoved back the hurt she’d felt when Harry had left her in the garden a few days earlier. Deciding she had expected too much of him, she continued her silent campaign of support. A few kisses between friends didn’t make everything better, and she could hardly expect their friendship to be the sole sustainer of his will to live.

But still, she could not help but feel as if she’d been rejected. She had told him to hold onto her, to hold onto their friendship, and he’d said it wasn’t enough. It hurt because sometimes Harry had been all she’d been able to hold onto, and he had always been enough. Why wasn’t she enough for him?

The hurt she felt dissipated whenever they were alone, and Harry dropped the mask he kept up around everyone else. Then she could clearly see the pain of the burden he carried. She hadn’t broached the subject, but she was certain more than ever that Harry was dealing with something other than Sirius’ death. He’d apparently quarreled with Dumbledore. Ginny had her suspicions, but she hadn’t dared to say anything yet.

Things came to head at the end of the week. Harry was like a taut string waiting to be snapped, and Ginny had finally lost her patience with him. She joined him on the roof outside his room where he often went to watch the sunset. They sat in silence well after sundown and Ginny found she could not bear the silence any longer.

“You know, the Daily Prophet has been saying you are the ‘Chosen One,’ she began firmly. “Mum, Dad, everyone – they all say its rubbish. But I -” she looked at him out of the corner of her eye, “I think you’re more important than they know.” She hugged her knees together and spun around on her bottom to face his profile.

“Anyone who’s got a prophecy written about him has got to be,” she said softly. “Whatever your fate or your destiny is, it’s tied up with Voldemort somehow. And if you refuse to face it, to accept it, all that’s great and good in this world will be gone.”

“I’m not ignoring anything,” Harry said through gritted teeth. She watched as his hands, highlighted by the light streaming in from the bedroom window, clenched into fists.

“No? Then why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” Ginny challenged. “I’m not stupid, Harry. Something else is going on.”

“Of course something is going on, Ginny,” he snapped back. “My godfather is dead.”

“Something more than that,” Ginny insisted. “Why won’t you just tell me?”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” Harry stood up and climbed back into the window. She followed him and darted around him to stand in front of the door, her chin raised defiantly.

Harry stopped a few feet away from her, his jaw working furiously. The look in his eyes didn’t scare her. She’d seen worse.

“I’m not leaving until you talk to me, Harry,” she said quietly. “Tell me what is going on. We’ll find a way to fix it, I promise.”

“You can’t fix this, Ginny,” Harry said sharply. “No one can.”

“We can,” she insisted. “If you’d just talk to me-”

“I don’t need to talk, Ginny! I don’t want to talk! Not to you, not to Hermione, not to anyone!” Harry was shouting now, the strain of the last few weeks finally snapping his temper. “Just leave me alone!”

“Why?!” she shot back. “So you can wallow in your own guilt and misery! Not likely! You need me around to kick some sense into you!”

“I don’t need you!” Harry roared.

His words stung and Ginny recoiled visibly. He seemed so certain that Ginny wondered if he’d ever really needed her. She had always thought they needed each other, but maybe she’d been the only one. Maybe he’d been humouring her this whole time.

“Fine,” she choked out. “I’m not enough for you. I get that. But someone somewhere has to be enough to help you, Harry. I just hope you find them before you push them all away.”

Harry’s face looked immediately stricken as if he’d just realized the effect of his words, but Ginny found she didn’t much care. She just wanted to get out there and retrieve what was left of her dignity. She felt behind her for the doorknob and wrenched it open. She didn’t stop to look back nor did she trust herself to speak again. She slammed the door behind her, convincing herself that she’d imagined Harry’s hoarse voice saying, “Ginny, wait.”

She walked quickly across the hall to her bedroom and shut the door behind her, before she slumped against the wood and slid down to sit on the floor. She brought her knees up to her chest and rested her forehead against them. She’d been fooling herself, probably for a very long time.

"Why would Harry Potter ever need you?" Tom whispered in her mind. "He’s stronger and better than you and always has been. He’s not tainted like you are."

Tom was making a lot of sense lately, Ginny thought dryly. She screwed up everything. People died around her and if they hadn’t yet Tom would probably kill them eventually. Even her family was a little scared of her. Why indeed would Harry need her? She couldn’t even help him when it was obvious he needed help. She wouldn’t have been so mad if she hadn’t been so sure she needed him.

"I am the only one who will ever need you, my dear."

*******

Harry knew he had messed things up in a particularly dramatic way. Ginny had been only trying to help him, her usual perceptiveness cutting through his bullshit, and instead of confiding in her like he longed to do, he’d pushed her away.

Except this time he had pushed her too far. She’d been quiet and distant the next day at breakfast and by lunchtime, Harry was dismayed to find that she had left for a weeklong visit to stay with Colin. He tamped down the jealousy he felt at the thought of someone else, even Colin Creevey, consoling Ginny after he’d hurt her feelings. But Ginny was tough, and she probably wouldn’t need consoling. In fact, she’d probably punch Colin if he tried.

He cursed himself for forgetting that, despite her tough exterior, Ginny was insecure on the inside. He supposed he was the only she’d allowed to see just how vulnerable she was, and this made what he’d said even worse.

Because of course he needed her. Who else could ever understand? He’d wanted to tell her about the damn prophecy from day one, but he’d been afraid. Talking about it made it more real, and he’d been content to suffer alone. But then Ginny had started following him around, flying with him, watching the sunsets with him – all without saying a word. It’d been damned annoying, but only because he knew she was right. He’d found himself wanting to crack – to tell her everything, and this had only made him angrier. So he’d lashed out at her, and it had made things worse.

Now she was gone, and he couldn’t even apologize. If he’d been hard to get along with before, the weight of the Sirius’ death, the prophecy and Ginny’s absence combined to make him downright unbearable. He hadn’t realized how much he depended on her being there until she was gone. The Weasleys were beginning to feel the strain of putting up with his moods – he’d actually caught Arthur and Molly whispering furiously at each other in the kitchen that morning and even Ron and Hermione had banded together in the wake of Harry’s mood swings.

It turned out that Ginny had been right all along. He didn’t need people asking him if he was all right all the time in order to feel cared for – he had only needed her silent presence.

The week passed by at an agonizingly slow pace. Harry got little sleep between the nightmares about Sirius dying and Voldemort possessing Ginny or himself. He’d never been so scared in his life as when he’d watched Voldemort take her over; he’d seen the temptation in her eyes, and it unnerved him. He’d also seen the pain she was going through and as he’d just been through it himself, he had known what it felt like.

Harry discovered that he was rather ashamed of his behaviour. He’d been rude to the Weasleys, and pushed Ron, Hermione and, especially Ginny, away – when he’d promised that he would always be there for her. He was aware of how Dean Thomas had stepped up to comfort Ginny in his absence, and even though he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about this development, he was glad that someone had been there.

Saturday finally rolled around and Harry woke up feeling refreshed after a nightmare-free night. He dressed quickly and bounded down the stairs to the kitchen where Mrs. Weasley was making breakfast.

“When does Ginny get home?” he asked casually, sitting down at the table.

“She got home earlier this morning, dear,” Mrs. Weasley answered distractedly. “She ate at Colin’s house before she came and went for a fly.”

Harry didn’t wait to explain to her where he was going. He sprang out of his seat and rushed for the back door, his feet breaking into a run towards the Quidditch pitch. He slowed when he got to the edge of the grass marked off for the pitch and spotted Ginny looping lazily in the sky. He thought briefly about grabbing his Firebolt from the shed but contented himself to wait for her on the ground. He settled himself on one corner of the field, propping his arms up on his bent knees.

Eventually Ginny descended and walked slowly towards him. He could tell by the look on her face that she didn’t really want to talk to him but wouldn’t or couldn’t ignore his presence. She stopped in front of him and looked down at him, waiting for him to speak.

They eyed each other for several minutes. Harry was unsure how to begin, and Ginny was certainly not going to make the first move. He watched as his continued silence convinced her that he had nothing good to say and her face turned suddenly harder, secure in her belief that he didn’t need her or their friendship.

He panicked when he realized she was turning away to leave. “No, wait!” He pushed himself up to his knees; one hand reached out to grab her wrist. She looked back at him angrily and opened her mouth to speak.

“Wait,” he repeated. “Please, Ginny – I just -” his voice faltered, and he looked down at the ground. He had no idea how to begin.

He felt a tug and looked up to see her trying to free her wrist, but he tightened his grip and pulled her closer while moving on his knees. He let go of her wrist, but only to wrap his arms around her waist and pull her even closer. He rested his forehead just beneath her breasts, his face buried in her stomach.

And he inhaled.

He had always loved the way Ginny smelled. It was flowers, treacle tart and broomsticks. He was so busy inhaling that he didn’t immediately notice her struggle to get away. He tightened his grip and held on.

“I’m sorry,” said Harry, his voice muffled against her belly. “I didn’t mean it. Of course I need you, Ginny. I need you so much. You’ve no idea how much…” his voice broke and he inhaled again, trying to stop the lump in his throat from surfacing. The past weeks had been too much, and he had gone too long trying to grieve on his own.

“I want to tell you everything,” he said, “but it’s hard to talk about it. It makes it more real somehow and I’m not sure I’m strong enough to deal with this.”

He felt her small hand come down hesitantly to run her fingers through his hair.

“I don’t think anyone could be strong enough to deal with what you’ve gone through,” she said finally. “But, Harry -” her fingers twisted in his hair, and she pulled up his head so she look down at him. “That’s what you have friends for, you twit. To help you deal with things.”

Harry nodded, not trusting himself to speak. Ginny fell to her knees and they embraced, his arms around her tiny waist, her arms around his neck; Harry’s head on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered in parseltongue. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, that I pushed you away, and that I let you think I didn’t need you.”

“You have to let me be there for you too,” she said fiercely. “This isn’t a one-way friendship.”

He nodded. “I know, I’m sorry.”

“You’re forgiven,” she grumped. “But will you tell us what’s going on now?”

Harry nodded again. He buried his face in her neck trying to replace the words of the prophecy Dumbledore had revealed to him with the scent of her skin and the feel of her hair surrounding him.

But no matter how hard he tried, the words still swirled around in his brain. They tortured him while he was forced to think about what he would eventually have to do.

*******

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches…born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies…and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will power the Dark Lord knows not…and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives…the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"

Harry finished reciting the prophecy for Ron, Hermione and Ginny and held his breath as he waited for their reactions.

“Well,” Ron swallowed. “I guess we’d better figure out how you’re going to defeat him, aren’t we, mate?”

“We’re with you, Harry. We‘ll help you,” Hermione insisted. She smiled bravely at him.

He smiled at both of them, grateful for their never ending support. “Thanks, guys.”

Ginny had remained oddly silent, and when he looked past Ron and Hermione’s shoulders, he saw her standing as if she was frozen in place, her eyes locked on his. She had a hard, blazing look on her face as she stared at him, and he could almost feel the force of her gaze searching his innermost thoughts.

Ron and Hermione turned to look at her, both clearly waiting for her to say something encouraging. She remained silent though, her eyes focused on Harry.

Ron shifted uncomfortably and turned back to Harry. “Er…wonder what it means though? ‘The power he knows not?’”

Harry reluctantly pulled his eyes from Ginny’s. Ginny eventually turned away from the discussion and stood stiffly, facing the window. Her arms were crossed protectively over her chest and Harry wondered, not for the first time in his life, what she was thinking? He was a little surprised that she hadn’t said something, but then he wasn’t sure what he would have said if someone had dropped a bomb on him like he’d just dropped on the three of them.

Mrs. Weasley called them to dinner just as Harry was getting weary of analyzing the prophecy. He sat next to Ginny at the table, but she remained unresponsive, even when he hooked his foot around her ankle. The fact that she didn’t push him away and allowed him to capture and hold her bare foot between his own reassured him a little bit, but then she disappeared after the meal and he didn’t see her the rest of the night. He refused to ask Hermione where she was, even though he caught her shooting him sympathetic glances a few times.

It wasn’t until he was almost asleep that night in his room that he heard the door open and soft feet pad across the floor to his bed. He wasn’t surprised, nor was he nervous about who was entering his room. Ginny was the only one who could get past the wards he’d secretly placed on the door. He was more impressed by her than irritated because he couldn’t figure out how she’d done it.

He smiled sleepily to himself when he felt the mattress dip and small arms slide around his waist from behind. A petite form pressed against his back and hugged him, her face pressed between his shoulder blades, her legs tucking themselves naturally behind his own.

“Harry,” she breathed. “Are you awake?”

“I am now, Fury,” he said. “Did you want something?”

“Yes,” she whispered. She shifted so that her lips hovered behind his ear, her warm breath raising goose bumps on his neck.

“I just wanted to tell you that I know you are going to beat that bastard.” She fell silent. Then: “Do you know how I know this?”

He shook his head slowly.

“Well, it’s not because that damn prophecy says you can, although it does say that if you read it carefully. I know you’re going to do it because you are you. You’re Harry Potter, the good guy, and you deserve to win. And because if anyone gets to wipe that smug smile off that snake’s face it ought to be you. You can do this because you’re strong enough – because it’s the kind of man you are. Not because of some silly prophecy made by that bat Trelawney.”

A warmth washed over Harry as her words sunk in. Ron and Hermione’s reactions to the prophecy had been perfect--he couldn’t have asked for a better show of support or for better friends. Friends who were willing to help him fight Voldemort. But neither of them had gotten what Harry himself had only just understood: He didn’t want to beat Voldemort because it was written in the stars or prophesized before his birth. He wanted to kill him because the git deserved to die, and because he’d taken enough from Harry already. Even if there hadn’t been a prophecy -- Harry would still want to take the bastard down.

Only Ginny had understood this. Once again, she’d demonstrated that she knew him better than he knew himself.

He turned around so that he was facing her. He lifted a hand and brushed his knuckles across her cheek. A shaft of moonlight shining through the open window highlighted her face, and he could see the same hard, blazing look on her face that had been there earlier in the evening.

“Stay.”

He meant it to be a request, but it came out like a demand. He didn’t want to be alone right now.

She nodded, the hard look on her face being replaced by a look that was almost…tender. “I’ll stay,” she confirmed.

He sighed and wrapped one arm around her waist as they both settled into his pillow. She shifted around a few moments, trying to get the blankets spread over both of them.

“Comfy?” he asked, once she had settled against him, her head next to his on the pillow. He could feel his eyes drooping heavily.

“Yeah,” she yawned.

She said something else, but Harry didn’t hear her before his eyes closed all the way. And he slept.

*******

Ginny awoke slowly, trapped in the comfortable haze between sleeping and waking. She felt safe and protected and knew that the immeasurable strength wrapped around her was Harry. They’d gone to bed facing each other with Harry’s arm resting lightly around her waist. At some point in the night, he had pulled her closer and wrapped both arms around her. His face was nuzzled in her neck, the deep breaths he was taking an indication that he was fast asleep. She smiled to herself and pressed her cheek back onto the crown of his head, his messy hair tickling her nose. She could feel his mouth pressed against the skin of her neck, his chin resting on her collarbone and the soft puffs of air as he exhaled through his nose.

She dozed for a few more minutes, content to let Harry hold her, but the need to stretch her cramped limbs and visit the loo eventually overwhelmed her and she opened her eyes.

And looked straight into the face of Molly Weasley.

Ginny had no idea how long her mother had been standing there watching her daughter and practically-adopted son snuggle in the bed, but if the expression on her face was any indication it had been long enough. Ginny knew the wards Harry had placed on his door expired every morning at 9 o’clock so her mother must have come upstairs to wake them for breakfast. She was sure the last thing her mum had expected was to find them in bed together.

She met her mother’s eyes with what she hoped was a defiant expression and tugged at the iron-like grip Harry had around her. “Harry, wake up,” she muttered. “C’mon, let me go.”

Harry’s only response was to pull her even closer into his body and nuzzle further into her neck. He mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like, “Just five more minutes, Gin,” and his steady breathing returned.

Exasperated and now a little embarrassed to be caught in such a situation by her mother, Ginny gripped Harry firmly by the shoulders and shook him. Hard.

“Hey!” he protested, lifting his head from her neck and looking up at her blearily. “What’s the big idea?”

“Harry, let go of me,” she said urgently. “We have to get up.”

“Okay, okay,” he grumbled, loosening his hold on her and turning over to grab his glasses from the nearby nightstand. “But you didn’t have to shake me…”

His voice trailed off when he put his glasses on and saw who was standing over them, her lips pressed into a thin line and her hands solidly on her hips.

“M - Mrs. Weasley,” he stammered. He sat up so fast he nearly threw Ginny off the bed. “Ginny and I were just -- well, it’s not what it looks like-”

“I expect both of you downstairs to breakfast in twenty minutes,” Mrs. Weasley interrupted icily. “And we will be having a discussion about this,” she waved a hand towards their still-partially entwined figures on the bed, “afterwards.”

She stepped past the bed and strode out the door, pointedly leaving it open behind her.

Ginny struggled with the covers and sat up next to Harry. They looked at each other and swallowed nervously.

“Well, shit,” Ginny finally said.

“Yeah,” Harry agreed. “Shit.”

Breakfast was a quiet affair as neither Harry nor Ginny felt much like talking. Ginny was too busy planning reasonable arguments in response to what she was sure would be a scathing lecture from her mother. Harry, she suspected, was trying to figure out how to make it through the rest of the day without being kicked out of the house. He didn’t know her mother as well as she did -- Molly Weasley wouldn’t kick him out. She might make him sorry he lived there, but she would never kick Harry out.

The meal ended too soon, and Molly set a curious Ron and Hermione to cleaning up the dishes before she stalked into the living room. Harry and Ginny followed meekly behind her. After they’d entered the room, Molly took out her wand and cast an imperturbable charm on the door and windows. She pointed her finger at the couch which Ginny and Harry sunk onto, and she stood facing them, hands back on her hips.

“Now,” she began dangerously. “Which one of you is going to tell me the truth about what I saw upstairs? How long has this been going on?”

Ginny took a deep breath to begin, but Harry beat her to it. “Ginny was just helping me, Mrs. Weasley. Sometimes, I - I have nightmares.” He swallowed heavily, and Ginny could tell the admission had cost him.

“She can hear me - me screaming and comes in to wake me up. Sometimes we just fall asleep talking, that’s all, I swear.”

Ginny nodded and looked back at her mother. “That’s all it is, Mum, honest.”

Molly looked sceptical. “You two seemed awfully familiar with each other,” she said harshly. “The way you were sleeping-” she broke off and flushed, but Ginny couldn’t tell it was from anger or embarrassment. “What on earth were you thinking?” she demanded. “Keeping your relationship a secret from the rest of your family?”

Harry and Ginny looked at each other in confusion.

“Mrs. Weasley,” Harry began doubtfully. “Ginny and I are just friends.”

“We’re not in a relationship, Mum,” Ginny piped up. “We’re just really good friends.”

“Good friends don’t sleep together in the same bed!” her mother shrieked back at them. “You expect me to believe that you two are not together? I saw you!”

“Honest, Mum,” Ginny insisted. “We’re not dating.”

“Really, Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said firmly. “Ginny and I are just friends. Really good friends,” he stressed.

Molly apparently believed him because she looked shocked and took a step back. “I don’t understand,” she said. “I saw you – you were wrapped around each other. What kind of friends behave that way?”

Harry hesitated so Ginny took the opportunity to explain. “Mum, Harry and I well…we just,” she shrugged, “we’re really close.”

“We’ve, uh, we’ve got a lot in common,” Harry added. Ginny could almost see him willing her mother to understand the thread that connected them.

Her mother lifted a hand and rubbed at her forehead in clear frustration. “I still don’t understand.”

“We both still have nightmares,” Ginny said abruptly. “It helps to share them -- with each other.”

Molly gazed at them searchingly and then slowly nodded. “Okay, I think I get it. But Ginny, Harry, sleeping together like that -- it’s not appropriate.”

They both nodded.

“We’re sorry Mrs. Weasley,” Harry said. “It was an accident and won’t happen again.” Molly took a deep breath and pressed a hand to her chest.

“Okay,” she said quietly. “Ginny, I’ll be discussing this with your father. I’m sure he’ll want to talk to both of you.”

Harry stiffened, and Ginny tried not to roll her eyes. “I understand, Mum.”

“And both of you will be helping me around the house today. Harry, you’re to degnome the garden. Ginny, you can start by gathering the dirty laundry from all the bedroom hampers.”

As far as punishments went, Ginny figured they’d gotten off pretty easy. After Harry had finished the garden, the two of them had to clean and organize the attic. While Harry scrubbed the bathroom, Ginny returned downstairs to fold the laundry she’d washed earlier.

She was just folding the bath towels in the kitchen when Harry came downstairs. He leaned against the doorjamb and watched her. Although she knew he was there, Ginny was lost in her thoughts and didn’t speak right away. The conversation they’d had earlier with her mother kept running through her head. Her mother had been so certain that Harry and Ginny were a couple. Was that what everyone else saw when they looked at them? Was that what had kept Dean from making his move all year?

“Do you think my mother is right?” she asked suddenly.

“Right about what?”

“About us,” she gestured between them with a washcloth. “About our friendship not being normal.”

Harry sensed this conversation was more important than Ginny’s simple question. It hadn’t surprised him all that much when Mrs. Weasley had assumed they were a couple. He didn’t know anyone else who behaved like he and Ginny did. So no, they weren’t exactly normal.

“I think our friendship is normal for us,” he said carefully.

Her forehead wrinkled at the obtuse answer. “What does that mean?” she probed.

He shrugged. “I’m not sure. But Ginny, you know that we are,” he paused, searching for the right word, “unusual.”

“Okay,” she conceded. “But why?”

Harry didn’t have an answer for that. Something, perhaps an answer, was swirling on the edge of his brain, but it wouldn’t register. He just knew that she was…important.

“I don’t know,” he said finally. “But you’re my best friend.”

“It’s more than that,” she said quietly. “Isn’t it?”

He remained silent. He wasn’t ready to have this conversation with her. Not because the idea scared the hell out of him, but because he was certain that if he pushed, even a little, Ginny would run the opposite direction and they would never get back what they had. He’d rather have her this way than none at all. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure he and Ginny could handle much more.

“It has to be, doesn’t it? I mean, you’re best friends with Hermione, and you don’t sleep with her. Why are we so intense?”

Harry felt like he was standing on a precipice. The trouble was that if he jumped, he wasn’t sure he could ever get back up. He didn’t want things to change, but he still wanted more. It was a paradox.

“We’re connected,” he said hesitatingly. “On a deeper level. I don’t know why it’s always so intense between us, but I think that’s just who we are. It’s how we work. I couldn’t be that way with Hermione because, well…we work in a different way. But you, Ginny, you’re different. You’re more. You get me, more than I get myself.”

He walked towards her, took the towels from her hands and set them back down on the table. He ran his hands down her arms and grasped her hands. “Know what I mean?”

She nodded slowly. “Maybe. I’m just…confused.”

“Why? Why now? We’ve been close for a few years now; you’re just now questioning the oddity of our relationship? ”

“It’s just that…well, I hadn’t realized how other people saw us. It’s a shock. I guess I’ve never thought past it.”

“How is that possible?” Harry asked, amused. “We’ve made out for bloody sakes.”

Ginny blushed. “You promised not to bring that up anymore.”

“Sorry,” Harry grinned. “It’s just that I’ve learned to laugh about it.”

“Well, I haven’t,” she thumped him on the chest.

He captured her hand and pulled her closer. Leaning down, he brushed his lips across her cheekbone. He pulled away and looked down at her. He kept her hand on his chest with one hand and snaked an arm around her waist.

Ginny looked up at him, confusion written on her face. Harry struggled with himself internally. He could very easily show her what he suspected could exist between them. It would be simple enough to demonstrate the attraction that always simmered beneath the surface. But they had been down this route before, and it hadn’t turned out well. His hands cupped her face.

“What do you want me to say, Fury?”

She swallowed. “I just want to know what you want.”

Harry knew he had to lie. He could tell she was scared enough by this conversation. What would she say if she knew the secret desires he harboured? He had to lie to her. He’d been lying to himself since his third year, this shouldn’t be any different.

“I am happy with the way things are right now,” he said carefully. “I don’t want anything more than you have to give.” Okay, so that wasn’t exactly a lie.

Ginny nodded and stepped back to the table where she resumed folding the laundry. “Okay, great,” she said.

Harry let his hands drop back to his sides. “Are you happy? With us?”

“Of course,” she said. “You’re my best friend.” She smiled at him, but he fancied he could see something in her eyes that he didn’t understand. He massaged the nape of her neck and kissed her on the temple.

“So, it’s agreed then,” he murmured. “We’re best friends, who have this weird, odd friendship that allows us to sleep together, kiss occasionally, and fight like cats and dogs.”

“Right,” she smiled again, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Harry tossed and turned that night, trying to find a comfortable position in which to sleep. The conversation with Ginny kept running through his head. Had he done the right thing? He WAS happy with the way things were, but he’d be lying if he said he didn’t often need something more. He’d been able to tide himself over with the occasional friendly kiss and hug, but now that Mrs. Weasley was on to them, the amount of affection he showed Ginny would be scrutinized.

He threw back the covers and sighed loudly. His mind was going in circles and he couldn’t get the look on Ginny’s face out of his head. Making up his mind, he got out of bed and silently made his way across the hall to Ginny’s room.

He opened the door slowly, flinching when it creaked a little. Hermione was in a bed on the other side of the room, and he didn’t want to wake her. He padded in his bare feet to Ginny’s bed and sat down on the edge of her mattress. She rolled over onto her back and he wasn’t surprised to find her wide awake.

“Hey,” he whispered.

“Hey,” she whispered back.

“I couldn’t sleep,” he confessed.

“Me either.”

“Budge up.”

“What if Hermione wakes up?” she hissed, but she moved over anyway and lifted the covers for him to slide underneath.

“She won’t,” he assured her. He settled himself on her pillow and she lay down next to him, her head pillowed on his arm.

“My mum is probably going to catch us again,” she whispered.

“I won’t stay,” he whispered. “I just wanted to tell you something.”

“What?”

Harry faced her on his side. “I’ve been thinking about our conversation this afternoon. And I’d like you to ask me that question again.”

“Why?”

“Because I have a better answer,” Harry said. “Now ask me again.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Fine. Why is our friendship so different?”

Harry ran his fingers across her cheekbone. “Because you and I -- we fit. Like puzzle pieces. We understand things about each other that others can’t understand.”

Ginny nodded slowly. “Yeah. I get that. But what about the kissing thing? I don‘t kiss any of my other friends. Don‘t you think that part is weird?”

She shifted so that her back was pressed to his front, her head tucked underneath his chin. Harry wrapped his arm around her waist and spooned her from behind.

“You’re a part of me, Gin,” he said directly into her ear. “I don’t know when it happened or why, but I can’t imagine what life would be like without you. And if I’m affectionate with you and can’t stop myself from touching you it’s because you’re my other half, and I can’t live without you.”

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed. She turned her head and kissed him on the jaw. “Thank you.”

“Does that answer your question?” he said, nuzzling her nose with his.

“Yes,” she whispered. “But it still hasn’t explained why I need you so much.”

Harry‘s heart lifted. It wasn’t often that Ginny admitted to needing him. Usually it was the other way around.

“I’m scared, Harry,” Ginny said. “Scared that we aren’t going to make it through this thing with Voldemort. Tom -- he shows me things -- horrible things.”

Harry’s fingers tightened on her hip. “What sort of things?”

“Things that will happen if Voldemort takes over,” she admitted.

Her admission was so matter-of-fact that it startled him, and he was reminded once again that he wasn’t the only one with a constant connection with evil. Ginny put up with Tom more than she ever talked about.

“They won’t come true, Fury,” he whispered. “I promise.” He hugged her tighter and buried his face in her hair. “I promise. I’ll get him.”

“We’ll get him,” she corrected. “We’ll get him together.”

He nodded, and they were silent for a few minutes. Then: “I’m scared to death of living without you,” Ginny said in an almost inaudible tone. “Why is that?”

Harry couldn’t believe she really didn’t know or at least suspect the depth of her feelings for him. She was more clueless than Ron had been about Hermione.

“Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” he said. “You’re mad about me.”

Ginny giggled and quickly clamped a hand over her mouth. She lifted her head slightly to make sure that Hermione hadn’t stirred. When no movement showed on the other side of the room, she rolled over to face Harry. His hand settled back on her hip. Ginny leaned forward and kissed him softly before pulling back and smiling brilliantly at him.

“I AM mad about you, you git. Now go get in your own bed before we get in trouble again.”

“One more kiss,” Harry wheedled, grinning at her. He rolled onto his back and tugged her with him until she was laying half on top of him. She looked down at him, her hair falling on either side of his head.

“Prat,” she whispered.

Harry slid a hand around her neck and caressed her jaw line with his thumb.

“C’mere,” he whispered. He tugged her head down and captured her lips with his own. The kiss was soft, sweet and short, but Harry felt it down to his toes.

Ginny pulled back and gazed at him with an unreadable look in her eyes. She looked confused again and Harry wondered if he’d gone too far.

“Harry-” she began in a whisper, but she was cut off by a loud huff from across the room.

“Excuse me,” Hermione said in a loud voice. She sat up and glared in their direction. “This is all very sweet but do you think you could save it for oh, I don’t know, DAYLIGHT!” She flopped back down on the bed and pulled the covers over her head.

Ginny snorted and pushed herself off of Harry who got up and walked to the door. Before he opened it, he turned back to say goodnight. Ginny was sitting up in her bed, watching him go. The moonlight was shining through the window and it highlighted her face. Harry didn’t think he’d ever seen her look so beautiful.

“’Night, Fury,” he whispered.

“Good night, Harry.”

Harry left, shutting the door firmly behind him. He snuck back to his room and crawled back under his covers. He was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

The next day, Ginny agreed to be Dean Thomas’ girlfriend.
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