Changed

She had done it again. For him.

Her hair was red now, a dark deep red, long and flowing, and tangled in his fingers. His lips caressed hers as their hands devoured each other. It was passionate and hot... and utterly scandalous.

"Harry," she moaned as his mouth made its way down the curve of her neck.

He replied with a groan as her hands slid across his backside. She pulled him against her to feel the hard length of him strain against her stomach.

"You want me," she said.

He nodded, pressing himself closer to her. "I want you now."

As he lifted her to her toes, her hands ran up and down his back before finally gripping his shoulders. He began rubbing against her, his hands still entangled in her hair. "I love it when your hair's like this." He wrapped a strand of auburn around his finger and brought it to his lips. He looked into her bright brown eyes and bit his lower lip. "I... I love you."

She instantly snapped out of her misty-like state. He didn't love her. He didn't know her. She stood flat on her feet and gently took hold of his hands. Hesitantly, she started speaking. "Harry... Please don't make this harder than it is." She took a deep breath before looking into his emerald eyes, hazed with lust. He looked at her uncertainly but she silenced him with a slim, pink-polished fingertip against his lips. She shook her head. "We have to stop."

"I don't understand." He took a step back in shock. "Don- Don't you love me?" The shy boy from the cupboard under the staircase suddenly emerged.

"I do, Harry, I do, but..." She hesitated, knowing their affair had always been too good to be true. She looked away from him and took another deep breath. She could never think straight when their gazes met. Fires would light wildly; skin burned to be touched.

But it was all passion and lust--and nothing more.

She closed her eyes in concentration and shook her head, instantly changing her hair. To pink.

She returned his heavy glare.

"Why are you doing this?" he exclaimed.

She watched as he reached towards her, then retracted his hand. He might have pushed her. Magic or no magic, she knew he was strong, but as an Auror she was also powerful. An intake of breath escaped her lips and she saw his acknowledgement of her sudden fear before she looked away. She felt him take another step away from her.

Somehow she drew the courage from inside her to face him. "Harry, am I going to change my hair to red every time I kiss you? Every time we make love?" She paused, not sure if he would answer, though she already knew the truth.

She had always enjoyed changing her hair and rearranging her features. It was a game to her as a child, entertainment to her friends, and a resourceful tool to an Auror. During those rough moments fighting, healing and mourning, she would amuse her comrades and noticed how Harry took special delight in her ability. His interest encouraged her to charm him. The pain from losing their loved ones and friends during the war was hard to dissolve, but the comfort they gave each other was temporarily satisfying. She thought nothing of it at first when, not long after they became intimate, Harry had mentioned his fetish for the color red. After all the pain they had both experienced, she was happy to please him with this simple change.

In the back of her mind she knew she had been playing with fire and with his feelings, and the guilt was building up. Seducing him wasn't deliberate as she felt the lustful chemistry between them, but it also wasn't honorable.

She saw his Adam's apple bob in his throat and noticed his fists clenched at his side. He was resisting but she knew his temper wouldn't hold back for long. She needed to say it all before she changed her mind.

With intense deliberation she began to explain. "I'm not her, Harry. I never will be. I can change the color of my hair, make myself shorter, turn my eyes to brown and put freckles on my skin, but Harry, I will never be Ginny." As she enunciated the last few words, she stepped closer to the young boy who had become a man. This was difficult but it needed to be said. It had been a long time coming. "She's gone. She... she's dead and she's not coming back."

It took her a moment to realize that tears were flowing down her cheeks. She tasted salt across her lips. He was still resisting, but his breathing became heavier as she saw him take deeper breaths to control his emotions. She lifted her hand to touch his cheek but then drew it back to her side.

"You don't love me, Harry. I'm just an illusion. I'm not Ginny, and I can't pretend to be her any longer."

With a sudden bang, Harry stepped forward and punched the wall behind her. She jumped, her back suddenly against the wall, and prepared to defend herself. She turned to him and saw him shaking his fist in pain. He had left a big gap in the wall and it was no surprise that his knuckles were bleeding. She went to look at his injury, but he shook her off.

"I don't need you."

She gasped at his words and frowned. He never needed anyone, never let anyone close to him anymore. She was his lover but nothing more She was only a stand-in for the true love he'd lost, providing temporary comfort but not genuine happiness. He needed Ginny, but what could a dead witch do to help a tortured soul on earth?

He walked towards the door, his injured right hand curled against his chest. His slouched posture almost, but not quite, hid the tears falling from his eyes. She knew his pain was not just from punching the wall. She cared for him greatly but she knew she could never replace the sweet and loving Ginny Weasley. How could she go on pretending to be a young girl with red hair and brown eyes? How could she go on imitating a person who was already dead? A sob escaped her lips and she brought her hand up to cover her mouth.

Suddenly, a large figure stood in front of her. His hand was still cut but the bleeding had stopped. His green eyes were bloodshot, evidence of hard tears escaping. He looked at her uncertainly and took a short, timid step closer.

"I - I..." he started. His gaze dropped to his injured fist, reminding her of his pain after Sirius had died. He gulped before resuming. "I - I loved her... So much... So much that it hurts." When he lifted his head, she could see her pink hair and grey eyes in the reflection of his glasses.

No, she could never be his Ginny.

"Oh, Harry," she cried, as she opened her arms and held him. "I'm so sorry."

His head rested against her chest, curled up in her warmth as she stroked his hair and his back reassuringly. They cried together, sliding to the floor, sitting against the wall. They cried for those they loved and lost, and they cried for the lives that had been forever changed.