Gingerbread Man

He hadn't seen that shade of red in years. Not since before the war. He was drawn toward it as a moth drawn to a flame. Was it...

No, not his hair. It was her. She saw him from across the room and her brown eyes widened with recognition then shifted side to side. He approached her casually. She didn't blink, she only watched him approach from the corner of her eye. He nodded at her as he passed her and she followed after, giving just enough time for the others milling around the club not to know they were leaving together.

"Harry," she hissed once they had reached the small alleyway behind the building. "What are you doing here. It's not safe!"

Dangerous. It was always dangerous. He didn't answer. He only looked at her.

She lowered her voice. "The murders? Is it... you-know-who? " He didn't answer. She didn't expect him to. "I have a place you can stay. Do you want that? Would that help?"

He nodded once and she took his arm in her small hand and led him through the alleyway to another, up the stairs and to a door. Her fingers shook as she fidgeted with her keys. He took them from her and unlocked the door. Impatience wasn't a new thing for him, only intensified by the current situation. She smiled thankfully at him and let him in.

It was a small studio apartment. Grey carpet, white walls, brown sofa. Filled mostly with boxes stacked in the corners.

"I'm sorry for the mess but I just moved here... you know since..."

He didn't know and it made him nervous. She could see it in his eyes.

"It's not important now... you shouldn't be distracted by things like that... not in your line of--"

He interrupted her by grabbing her wrist. She looked into his eyes and answered his question without words. It was Ron. He was gone. Harry had almost gotten used to this feeling, but it was stronger now. The sense of loss. The bitterness. He dropped her wrist and walked to the sofa, letting himself fall into it's cushions.

"The others?" he asked.

"Bill and Charlie are gone. For a few months now. George, too." Her voice sounded strange in his ears. He closed his eyes and tried to imagine their faces. The faces he'd never see again. There were too many of them. Cedric, Dumbledore, Hermione, Hagrid... now Ron. Now half of the Weasleys. Gone. The only family that he'd ever known. He wondered sometimes if at the end of this war there would be a single face that he still knew.

Ginny came over and sat next to him. She looked nervous, uncertain how to handle Harry like this. She hadn't seen him in over a year, after all, and they really hadn't known each other that well even before the war. To his surprise he found himself leaning toward her and letting her put an arm around his shoulders.

A sign of weakness, Potter? What are you thinking?

But that was it. He was tired of always thinking. Always being strong. He was so tired just then that he didn't know if he could ever be that strong, cool, calm, heroic Harry Potter that everyone relied on, that everyone needed him to be. He just wanted to curl up in these almost familiar arms and hide. She wrapped her other arm around him and held him against her. He buried his face into her shoulder. She almost smelled like Ron if not for that faint sweetness of perfume. He'd never worn anything like that. Maybe he had worn aftershave before... but he hadn't been shaving when Harry had last seen him. He had clamped a hand on Harry's shoulder and pressed his lips together. Trying not to cry. Trying not to admit that it could be the last time they saw each other. That it *would* be the last time they saw each other.

"How?" he managed.

"You don't want to know." Her voice was quiet. Cold. She had grown up too much for a year. He pulled away enough to look at her face. He wanted to memorize it, needed to. What if this was the last time he saw her?

"It's been lonely here," she said quietly. I can't get myself to stay long enough locked away from everyone, to put my things away. To take them out of their boxes. I can't stay away from that bar. Just to see other faces, you know?"

"I know," he said quietly. He'd been the same way at first. Now just any faces weren't enough. He wanted familiar ones. Familiar anything. He'd missed his England, but even it was no longer home. It had changed too much. He had changed too much.

These thoughts were flooding his mind when she kissed him. He didn't react, didn't even respond, but her lips were persistent in their desperation. Her fingers wrapped themselves in his hair and pulled him closer. There was a weariness so deeply rooted inside of him that he didn't want to fight her. He closed his eyes and let her tongue slide into his mouth. She was searching for something inside there, but when she pulled away her expression showed him that she found it.

"I could comfort you, I would follow you anywhere." She put her fingers to his lips before he could protest. "I know what you said before. That it's too dangerous for me. But I'm a grown woman now, Harry. I don't... really have anything else. My... the ones that are left... they are always out fighting and I'm left here alone. I'm running out of money. I'm afraid I may have to--"

Her voice broke off in a sob. He put his arms around her and rubbed her back. It was meant to be warm, but even he could feel how mechanical his movements were. She buried her face into his chest as if searching, as she had searched his mouth, for something that wasn't there any longer.

"Please let me be yours," she whispered. "Even if it's just because you miss him."

A wave of cool electricity washed over him. Partly the loss again, partly pity for her... partly a temptation to take her up on it. He'd been alone too long. She was too warm. Something in his mind caught an old fable he'd heard in grammar school. The air conditioning was broken and Dudley was sitting next to him with sweat beading off of his rolls of fat and Harry remembered trying to focus on the teacher so that he could just forget where he was for one beautiful moment. Get lost in the story she was telling. What was it?

//Run, run as fast as you can.//

Harry chuckled aloud then. It was a strange sound. She looked up at him from his chest and he looked back down at her apologetically. He really was losing his mind, he thought, laughing like that. It was no time to laugh. But a smile had spread across her face and it suddenly seemed worth it. He was too much like that gingerbread man lately. Barely escaping, running and running... he knew it was only a matter of time before he ran into a fox willing to gobble him up. Maybe if he had her until then... Was it too terribly selfish, really, to want a companion? Even if it put her in danger?

He crooked his finger and put it under her chin, guiding her face up to his. Their lips touched. Lightly at first. Then, something snapped in him. A fire that hadn't been kindled in more than a year. He closed his eyes and pressed against her. His lips to hers, his chest to hers, his stomach to hers, his legs to hers. He pushed her down onto the couch. She wrapped her hands around to the back of his head and held him there, tongues sliding against one another like a child rubbing her hands together for warmth. The warmth was spreading through his body from his mouth and from his crotch when he broke the kiss and looked down at her. Red hair splayed in all directions, lips swollen, skin pale. It could be him if it weren't for the thick eyelashes. It could be him if not for the narrow face. It could be him. There was a piece of him inside of her. Even if it were nothing more than a single strand of DNA. It was enough. It was all Harry had.

"My... my room is safer than out here. No windows. And there's a lock." Her voice had that same raspy tone to it after a kiss. Just like Ron's did. Harry nodded shortly and stood, offering her a hand. She took it, biting her lip and not looking at him as she turned and walked into the hallway to a door. He followed her and she opened the door for him, revealing a small room with a small bed. Ginny blushed when she saw him looking in through the doorway.

"It's so small and ugly. I didn't have enough money for a--"

"No, it's fine." He began to walk past her into the room but she grabbed his arm. He looked down at her questioningly.

"I... Could you close your eyes?" She blushed a deeper red at his raised eyebrow. "I don't want you to see how ugly... how ugly the room is. I want you to picture a huge room with a lovely bed and satin sheets."

He gave her a small smile and let his eyes slid shut. Ron was there, etched on the backs of his eyelids. Something in the back of his mind told him that this was wrong. But was it so much to ask really? He'd been selfless all of his life. This was his chance to get something he wanted just because he wanted it.

Ginny led him into the room by his hand. He heard the door close and lock behind him, and then her whispering a locking spell. He barely remembered a time before paranoia had become part of daily routine... She pulled him further into the room. He let her push him down onto the bed. There was a shuffling and then she was on top of him, straddling him. Her hand brushed his neck. He winced away from the icy feel of them. The fingers... the fingers were too long. Something wasn't right.

"Keep your eyes closed, Harry..."

It was Ginny. But her voice was odd. It was too far away. His eyes snapped open. Red eyes glinted back at him. The skeletal face was cracked with a victorious smile, then opened further into a high-pitched laugh.

//Avada Kedavra.//

---

The End