Somewhere a Clock Is Ticking

Ginny flattened down the bed cover, smoothing the imagined creases out. She couldn't keep still. Glancing through the bedroom door and into her small flat, she sighed. The ruins of her half-hearted attempt to make dinner, still burnt and still smelling, remained in the kitchen sink. Somehow she didn't have the heart to perform the simple spell to clean them, nor to return them to their proper place.

She fluffed up the pillows once more before straightening up and wandering out of her bedroom. Without looking back, she turned the light off and aimlessly meandered into the space her furniture now filled.

Nothing had changed in the three minutes she was away from it. She would have preferred to face a Hungarian Horntail, rather than this desolate living room.

The calendar pinned next to her over-flowing desk revealed it was a Saturday in April. A black, shaky circle drawn around the Sunday next to it with nothing written inside demanded all her attention. But she didn't need reminding.

The clock chimed the hour. It was well into night and still the thought of sleep had yet to cross her mind.

There were no sounds coming from the street below, despite what day and time it was. Only last week she had happily gone to sleep listening to the last, half arsed songs that floated up and through the charms on her windows. But it was no Muggle street and its people were probably at home with their families. Spending the night with loved ones. But here Ginny stayed, all alone.

Her parents had invited all their children to the Burrow tonight, but she had declined. Tomorrow morning she didn't need their solemn faces, writing over the happy memories she had. The winter nights playing chess at night with Ron, the summer days with Charlie, secretly playing Quidditch, the Twins playing tricks on Percy, a sweeping hug from Bill...

The cold of the window felt good against her burning forehead. A strangled sob misted the glass.

Before she was truly left alone with her thoughts, there was a knock on the door.

Gently pulling the tears from her eyes, she made her way over to the doorway. Her wand was firmly in her grip. She wasn't expecting anyone.

But it was Harry. The grip on her wand loosened only slightly.

He stood there silently, leaning on the frame for support and staring at the ground. When he did finally look up at her, she wished he never had.

His eyes were dead.

"Can I come in?"

A moment's pause.

"Of course, yes."

She moved to the side, taking his arm and guiding him in, talking nonsense. Anything to distract herself from the expression hanging over his face. There wasn't even a joke about not asking the secret question to each other, but jokes inside the Order were few and far between.

His voice was hoarse and strained as he answered her questions dully.

Turning around from closing the door, she expected to see him collapsed on one of the chairs, kicking his feet onto the coffee table - like he had done every other time he was here. But instead he was standing there, staring at her.

"Have you been crying?"

Ginny swallowed and smiled. "Nearly."

He nodded thoughtfully.

Nothing else was said for a few moments. She felt uncomfortable, not at all sure why he was here, or what she ought to do. Feeling slightly despite, she wished he hadn't come, knowing that this would be how she would remember him. Lifeless and cold instead of laughing and alive.

Still he did nothing.

"Would you like a drink?" she asked quietly, finally breaking the awful silence. "I don't have much. Just tea and this weird orange drink... I think it was here when I moved in, actually..."

Her voice had faded away beneath her. Without a word, he had walked up to her, so close that she could see the faint scars on his jaw, so close she could almost feel the heat and the pain radiating from the one on his forehead. But he didn't touch her. They just looked at one another.

So this is what it would have been like.

There were butterflies rippling in her stomach. She truly didn't know why. Harry wasn't that kind of person to her, not anymore. He hadn't been for years.

And then he began slowly stroking the hair off her face. First out of her eyes, tucking it gently behind her ears, then off her shoulders, trailing his fingers through it and down her back. She watched him, wanting to cry even more, feeling the hard skin of his fingertip run over her freckles. He smiled, but it never moved his mouth. She watched a small sparkle return at last to his eyes.

When he leaned in and kissed her, she wasn't naïve enough to be surprised. But somehow the softness did, even when he eventually deepened it.

She had no idea how long they stayed like this - together but never really touching each other - until he finally broke away. But he didn't move apart from her, he stayed just as close; his forehead leaned against hers and his body so close. Now she could really feel the uncomfortable warmth of his scar.

Her eyes tried to find his. They were screwed shut as he bit his bottom lip.

"You're tired, Harry," she whispered, stroking his face. "You need to sleep."

He ignored her. "You know I always loved you, Ginny."

She closed her eyes. This wasn't what she wanted right now; she couldn't handle anything at this moment. Not from him. Not again.

"You don't mean that, Harry."

His eyes were open when she finally looked at him. There was something flickering beneath them. Hurt.

"I don't." He made an odd choking noise and his eyes scrunched up once more. "But I do. It's strange, Ginny. I don't know what I would do if you weren't here. I don't know where I would be if I wasn't here now."

Ginny sighed, knowing that it was too late to hold onto the memories she had of him. "C'mon."

Picking up his limp hand, she pulled him through the unusually tidy flat and into the bedroom. Harry didn't put up any fight or resistance until they stood right next to the bed. It was then he let go.

She glanced back at him. He was staring at her unnaturally neat bed.

"I just wanted to see what it would be like," he murmured, eyes flicking onto hers. "What we could have been..."

Then it all seemed to dawn on her. He hadn't come here tonight to look for love, of any kind. Something settled in her chest and she had no idea what it was. But it made her kiss him briefly and make him look at her.

"I love you too, Harry."