White Flag

White Flag

I know you think that

I shouldn't still love you

I'll tell you that

But if I didn't say it

Well I'd still have felt it

Where's the sense in that?

I promise, I'm not trying to make your life harder

Or return to where we were

A small figure sat in the darkened common room. She sat alone, but she didn't care, or perhaps hadn't even noticed. The gentle flicker of the fire warmed the room and illuminated the few people still awake. A soft gaze protruded under her long eyelashes, toward them.

Only one of them mattered to her.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived. The boy she loved. She knew every curve of his face, those strong and defined cheek bones, the softness of his lips. The way his hair fell as he leaned forward to kiss her, and how his clothes hung perfectly around his slender frame. How his eyes crinkled when he laughed, and how they could shine with sincerity when he told her he loved her too.

He was chatting and laughing gently with Ron and Hermione. Her heart twisted just looking at them. She wanted to laugh along with them, but such a thing was almost forgotten to Virginia Weasley. Move on! Move on, she told herself. Heard others telling her. Easier said than done.

I will go down with this ship

I won't put my hands up and surrender

There will be no white flag above my door

I'm in love and always will be

I know I left too much mess and destruction to come back again

I caused nothing but trouble

I understand if you can't talk to me again

And if you live by the rules of 'it's over'

Then I'm sure that that makes sense

They'd been so happy, finally getting together on Christmas day the year before. She'd never forget how he'd taken her away from the bustle of the jolly household at the Burrow, out into the snow covered garden, under one of the trees strung with fairy lights. He'd told her he'd always wanted to be with her, and looked so deeply into her eyes before kissing her so gently. It was her dream come true. Hermione and Ron had been so happy for them. Looking back, Ginny thought that perhaps the smile playing on Hermione's lips wasn't as enthusiastic as it could have been, but she didn't stop to muse on that. She was happy.

Harry cared for her and protected her like no one ever had before. He was the perfect gentleman. He made her feel special, like she was the only girl in the world who mattered.

They'd had their ups and downs, as any relationship should. Fights were healthy, and strength building. But maybe there were to many. Maybe they hit home too often. Harry saw it that way, it seemed. Just over three months ago, he had ended it. But he'd done it so gently and in such a way that she knew that she could never hate him for it. He'd told her he was tired of fighting. That they were too different. He couldn't do it anymore, it was hurting to much, and too often.

She remembered the warm stream of tears that fell as if they were still falling now. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I never meant to hurt you...

It's too late, we can't go back now. I'm sorry too, Ginny...

Followed by all clichés known to man; we must stay friends, you'll be better off without me... Except that with Harry they were so genuine. That was why she could never stop loving him.

I will go down with this ship

I won't put my hands up and surrender

There will be no white flag above my door

I'm in love and always will be

She knew it would happen, but it was a shock when it did. She knew Harry had to move on, but with her? She was my friend, she thought. She knew how much Harry meant to me.

Looking across the room, they were now comfortably entwined on the old sofa. Harry and Hermione. Destined for each other, everyone said it. I knew they would get together, I knew it, everyone whispered. No one stopped to wonder what had become of the girl who had been cast aside. Sadness lurched inside her as she watched him stroke her hair and rest his arm around her so protectively. Tears prickled in her eyes, but she would not let them fall. She couldn't look anymore.

And when we meet

Which I'm sure we will

All that was then

Will be there still

I'll let it pass

And hold my tongue

And you will think

That I've moved on

She didn't know how long she'd been staring at the fire. A good long time it must have been, concentrating on not looking back at Harry with all her strength. A soft voice at her side startled her out of her reverie.

Ginny.

Harry. She forced a smile and greeted him warmly, but reservedly. Don't ever throw yourself at a man, rang out Molly's words in her ear. As if she could anyway, with Hermione undoubtedly watching them.

A bashful smile, a gentle laugh that made his eyes crinkle in that way that she loved. She had no hesitation in making all pleasantries back at him, nothing on her face showing the rush of emotion at the painful reminder of having him so close. Chatting trivially, she allowed her mind to close to the mundane, she didn't need concentration to banter with Harry. Instead she allowed her mind to think that he was back beside her as he had been, loving her and telling her how beautiful she was, instead of discussing charms.

With one last smile, that special smile that turned her heart, he was gone. He would never know how she felt now. To him she'd always be the cheerful Ginny, happy and smiling. It could only be a good thing. Above all she wanted him to be happy, and letting him know her feelings would ruin everything. But however much she let Harry think that she'd moved on, she knew that she'd always love him, no matter what.

I will go down this ship

I won't put my hands up and surrender

There will be no white flag above my door

I'm in love and always will be

*~*~*

A short while later he watched her leave the common room. She looked warm and tired, her hair velvety and tousled and glinting in the firelight. He sighed, almost inaudibly as she disappeared up the stairs, and he felt his stomach twist with sadness and longing. It had been three months now. It was best she didn't know.