Leaving

The wedding had been average, to say the least. Everyone was guarded, watching, suspecting. The French relatives-because that's what they were now; relatives; related- had hardly been the joyous group they had been when they visited a month ago. Their pale blond hair and sharp blue eyes had still been beautiful, and their attitudes very polite, but they never seemed to relax as they had previously. But there was no question as to why.

The death of Albus Dumbledore had sent shockwaves through the global wizarding community. Never before had there been such a meeting of the heads of the wizarding countries. Every continent and every country had sent a delegate, but every country did not seem very willing to help England, though very eager to protect themselves. Limited foreign aid came to the Ministry in England, but nothing of any significance.

In the midst of this, however, Bill Weasley and Fleur Delacour had become Mr. and Mrs. Bill Weasley, and their ecstatic figures had been the only ones to truly enjoy the party, dancing and drinking as if nothing could damper their spirits.

The Weasley portion of the attendees had also been guarded. They felt the horrors of the war much more acutely than their French counterparts. The war was, almost literally, in their backyard.

Mrs. Weasley nonetheless had the emotion for her son to cry, and hug him, and hug Fleur, even. And Mr. Weasley had not smiled with quite the same true happiness since the births of each of his children, and his very own wedding. And the music had still been played, and everyone had tried, however ineffectively, to have fun.

Ginny Weasley had not been one of the guests to feign lightheartedness.

Over three months ago, Harry Potter had kissed her, and not much over one month ago he had broken up with her.

He had had his reason- however weak that reason was- and she felt that she had no right to question him about it. There was something bigger than the two of them that he needed to focus entirely upon, and she would be a hindrance, a distraction.

Ginny laughed dryly at this; she never dreamed she would be such a distraction to Harry Potter; that the Chosen One could not keep his mind off of her if she was close.

Her eyes involuntarily sought out him. He stood under a tree, Ron and Hermione on either side. They seemed to be talking quietly, planning something. Harry took a sip from the plastic cup he was holding and his eyes met hers momentarily. Ginny felt a slight jolt and quickly looked away.

In happier times, Ginny would have imagined Harry, Ron and Hermione planning some fantastic prank, or at least they would be joking and laughing, and Ron and Hermione would eye each other now and then. And she, Ginny, might come up behind Harry and wrap her arms around him, making Hermione laugh, and Ron gag. But Ginny knew that times were changing- have changed- will change much more. She had heard snatches of their conversations when they had their guards down. Passing by Ron's room, she heard voices, quickly muffled, usually followed by an unidentifiable buzzing noise.

"Should we tell?"

"I hope they don't worry..."

"Where will we go?"

"...places to stay..."

"...when?"

"...can't get caught..."

"...at night..."

She knew not to interfere. They would leave. Leave her, leave Hogwarts, leave her parents, leave their lives. She did not know why, but she knew that it would be soon, very soon. She had even expected it earlier. She thought she had accepted this, she couldn't stop them; she had no sway in an argument, but nonetheless, she felt their pending departure, and whatever they were leaving to do, weigh heavily on her conscience.

The party wound uneventfully down when most of the guest admitted sleepiness, or agreed when it was suggested that they were sleepy. In any case, everyone agreed, silently, that the party was not adding to anyone's night, and Ginny had been only too happy to see an end to the day.

She stayed outside to help her mother with the cleaning, though she hardly did much. Her mother cast eyes filled with sympathy on Ginny's downtrodden look, but knew not to ask about it. Ginny cleared off a chair and sat watching Bill and Fleur, oblivious to the absence of their guests, as they danced to the still-playing radio. Every now and then one of them would laugh, or they would kiss, and Ginny would wonder if she could ever have something like that.

She almost did have something like that, she thought as she watched Ron lead the way into the house, holding the door for Harry and then Hermione. She watched as he placed his hand on her waist as he shut the door behind himself. Hermione smiled faintly, completely unembarrassed. There wasn't time for embarrassment anymore.

Ginny followed them shortly, thinking of what her life could have been had she not been Ginny Weasley, girlfriend of Harry Potter. Or what life could have been had her brother had not been Ron Weasley, best mate of Harry Potter.

Or, even, what life could have been had Harry not been Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One.

Ginny shook her head, physically trying to shake those thoughts out of her head. It did not fix anything to dwell on ifs, and could haves, and maybes...

Ginny slept fitfully that night. She seemed somehow subconsciously aware that that night was the beginning of the rest of her life. The excuse of being the youngest, immature, naive, would not serve her anymore. The only people who had been willing to accept those excuses would not be the people with whom Ginny would be dealing in the future.

The heat encompassed the Burrow that night adding to Ginny's unrest. Ginny turned over and over in her bed, continually flipping her pillow to lay her head against the cool underside. Her covers had been long abandoned, and her night clothes, however light they were, stuck uncomfortably to her skin.

Ginny finally decided that sleeping was not presently and option. She swung her legs over the bed and automatically sought her slippers blindly with her toes, though she abandoned them in an instant as the heat multiplied inside of them.

She trod bare foot and clothed only in cotton shorts and a loose tank top to the bathroom for a drink, cursing her parents for forgetting a Cooling Charm on her room. She ran her hands under the cool water, occasionally running some down her back, a quick but temporarily effective way to cool down. After this, she padded quietly to her parents in order to ask her father to perform the charm.

"Dad?" she whispered, "are you awake, Dad?"

He didn't answer, and she frowned when she stepped into their room. The temperature dropped considerably. They hadn't forgotten to charm her room ever, in her memory.

"Dad?" she tried again, walking to his side of the bed. Ginny shook his shoulder slightly, adding pressure until he opened his eyes blearily.

"Ginny? What's wrong? Are you OK?" The worry in his voice increased as he woke up slowly.

"No, no, it's fine. It's just, you forgot to charm my room. I'm roasting. I can't sleep."

"Oh," he sighed, visibly relaxing. "I'm sorry, Ginny. You know the charm, don't you? You can do it. The Ministry won't bother us with so many wizards present."

Ginny nodded and left the room. She hadn't really needed to ask her father for permission, she realized, the Ministry couldn't detect individual acts of magic, or at least, they couldn't detect who had performed the magic. She frowned at herself. Why had she felt the need to ask?

Ginny walked up the stairs thinking to herself. She was so encompassed within her thoughts that she did not notice the activity on the floor below her until her path up the stairs was blocked by someone.

"Oh! Sorry!" she said in a higher voice than normal; she was startled by this sudden appearance.

She felt a hand on her wrist trying to steady her. A familiar hand...

"Harry?" she whispered, squinting at the dark face.

She heard him groan. His hand left her wrist and ran through his hair. Was he nervous?

"Harry, why do you have a backpack?" Ginny's heart started to beat faster. It was happening; he was leaving. "Are you leaving? Where are Ron and Hermione?"

He sighed and pulled her into her room, still lit by her lamp.

Ginny's heart sped still further; she had not seen him up close in so long- too long.

She waited for him to begin speaking. He had to have something to say since he pulled her into a private space. He seemed unwilling, however. It was fortunate that Ginny needed little explanation as to why he was tip-toeing down the stairs with a backpack in the middle of the night.

"Harry, do you have to go?"

"Ginny..." he still hesitated.

All that he had hidden to her during their time at Hogwarts, all that he was going to do, she saw it was on the tip of his tongue to tell her. She saw his eyes trying to reassure her, comfort her, even placate her, that there were reasons, and dangers, and sacrifices that he needed to make. He didn't want to, or couldn't, tell her outright this information, but he seemed desperate that she understand, as they had understood each other at Hogwarts.

He was waiting for her to respond, or step away from her position blocking the doorway to let him leave, but she did neither. He was leaving her, she was hardly thinking at all.

"Ginny, this has nothing to do with you," he started quietly, " I'm not... I'm not leaving because of- you. I didn't... You know that I didn't- break up with you because... I still- I still want to be with you. I just can't right now. You know that right?" Ginny nodded. She hadn't known what to think before about the breakup, but hearing him say he still liked her... She felt tears forming in her eyes and hated herself for it.

"It's for Him, isn't it? It's the only thing, it's pretty obvious you know," she smiled slightly.

"Everyone expects you to do something. I just- I just didn't think..." she looked away, not knowing what is was she was trying to say. She wanted him to take her back, and kiss her, and forget everything.

"Ron and Hermione are waiting downstairs. They're coming with me. I guess you know that too?" the smile in his voice drew her eyes to his again.

She nodded, blinking hard against the tears. Her voice seemed to have left her. "How long?" she managed, rather higher pitched and raspier than usual.

"Ginny..." he dropped his bag on her floor then, taking her hands in his. "Ginny, I can't promise anything. It could be a month, and year, ten... It could be... I- it might be never, Ginny."

Ginny let out a sob, and dropped his hands. She grabbed him around the neck. "You don't say that!" she sobbed into his neck. The heat, and their separation, and the unknown future caused her to release her tears. "Don't you say that ever! Never again! Harry, you can't- you can't leave... my parents, Hogwarts, me!" she said vehemently.

His arms tightened around her. She felt herself shuddering. Her legs were weak, and her face red, but she did not care: she couldn't care.

"Harry I need you," she said quieter, almost unintelligible.

Slowly, Harry released her from his arms. He took a step back. Ginny wrapped her one arm around her body, trying to replace his own, and covered her mouth with the other. Her eyes were wide, the tears running down her finger, splashing on the floor. Her expression was one of the utmost, the most intense denial, surprise, disbelief. Harry gulped visibly. Had she been in less shock, she would have seen how close he was to collapsing, himself. Nevertheless, he bent to pick up his backpack. He stepped into her again and pressed his lips lingeringly to her temple. Wordlessly, he stepped around her, brushing her shoulder. She turned to watch him walk out of her room.

She did not move until she heard the front door open and close softly. She ran to the window and saw Harry jogging to catch Ron and Hermione, who had started slowly down the path. Harry turned back to look at the Burrow. He did not see her watching. Before he turned back to the others, he wiped his eyes on the back of his sleeve.

Ginny shut the curtains violently. She turned to her bed and ripped the sheets over her. She suddenly felt cold. Icy air engulfed her. She wrapped the thin blanket around her still-sweaty body. She was trembling. Though, sobs wracked her body, she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.

***

After the war, when Harry's body had been laid to rest with thousands of others, Ginny realized that the Cooling Charm that had seemed so essential to her that night had never been performed.

She never again cast it.