Eventually You

The party was winding down.

The twins had Apparated home sharply after 'testing' a new product on Colin. Ginny wasn't sure exactly what it had been, but it had definitely been pink and furry. He had hurtled around the kitchen and living room in a manner almost scarily reminiscent of Pigwidgeon with the... whatever-it-was firmly attached to his nose while the twins and Harry had fallen about with laughter, being absolutely no help as she pried her best friend free. Thankfully Colin had rapidly seen the funny side, and was able to give the twins a rather detailed and decidedly helpful review of the carnivorous critter as she had cleaned up his bitten appendage. She had even giggled a little herself at the rumpus, despite a niggling feeling that 'testing' on Colin had been Harry's idea - the dark-haired boy had never truly liked either of the Creeveys. The twins were far more likely to pick on Ron, or occasionally Charlie.

Speaking of Ron, he had rather swiftly gotten very drunk and given a stirring rendition of the Muggle song 'Lovestruck' to a half-disapproving, half-amused Hermione before she had persuaded him into going upstairs to "sleep it off". Ginny sincerely hoped that they were only sleeping. She loved her brother and Hermione dearly but... her brain simply refused to deal with such thoughts.

Remus had bid her a quiet farewell a few hours ago, claiming tiredness from the full moon three nights ago. Moody had left at the same time, and although he had sounded thoroughly put out that his two new recruits were engaging in gaiety and not looking for Dark wizards in the kitchen cupboards, the youngest Weasley was sure she had seen the old man crack a smile or two. She almost could have sworn to a slight chuckle from the old man when Tonks, loitering in the kitchen doorway beside Remus, had leaned close to the ex-Marauder as if to share a secret, but instead had spilled her Butterbeer down herself. Ginny had always suspected that Moody was a good sport underneath all the shouts and suspicion.

Now, well past the witching hour - an expression which had always made Ginny smile, it really showed how little Muggles knew - and she was sitting on the back doorstep watching the moonlight play across the surface of the pond, ornate silver on obsidian. It was quiet now, only Harry and Tonks still up - all the others had come and gone. It had been a hectic, fun-filled evening, with pretty much everyone she knew appearing at some point or other - even Bill and Fleur had popped in to bestow greetings and pleasantries before heading off back to their flat. Ginny remembered her promise to go down there at the weekend to help with the never-ending wedding plans and heaved a sigh. Not that Fleur wasn't lovely, it was just that she had the unerring ability to make Ginny feel like a rather grubby street urchin.

"Wotcher, Gin," said a familiar, cheeky voice and the redhead felt a second weight settle onto the aging wooden step beside her.

She smiled out into the garden. "You do realise how old that catchphrase is, don't you? I think you need a new one, Tonks."

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the now strawberry-haired Auror shrug. "Wouldn't be me if I didn't say it, now would I?" She suddenly seemed to become aware of their surroundings, and whistled. "Blimey but it's nice out here - even nicer in the dark than in the... not dark."

Ginny laughed, an honest smile lighting up her bright eyes. "Yes, it is. I just love it out here at night. It's always so quiet..."

"Quiet-loving? You? Come on, Gin - you're as bad as those brothers of yours!"

Ginny's eyes glittered in the moonlight, lending her young face a mischievous air. "I may be, but I'm also the only girl and that gives me the right to be different, wouldn't you agree?"

"Well, I'd say so," Tonks chuckled, and Ginny sneaked a look at her. She remembered Harry confiding in her that when Tonks looked like that - smiling and redheaded - she reminded him of Ginny a little, and a small smile crept unbidden onto her features. Tonks caught her, however, before she could turn back to the vista. "Whatcha smiling at?"

"Oh, nothing. Just something Harry said years ago... But I don't want to talk about him, not now when it's so nice."

"Still not talking, then? Really, I never did work out what happened with you two - that first year I knew you two it was all good. Then wham!" Tonks smacked her hand on her knee for emphasis, "And it's still the same now."

Ginny sighed. "It's... complicated. And there doesn't seem any point fixing it now - we have our own lives and now I'm living away from home-"

"Oh yea... How's that going for you?" The elder girl grinned widely. "I remember my first place - real grotty and grubby - never could manage those Housework Charms - but it was great."

"Oh it is... me and Colin have such fun. It's nice for me to have a place and things that are mine - not robes that used to be Percy's or books that've been subjected to the twins... And Colin just likes being out in the world again, I think. His parents pulled him out of it after fifth year." She started a bit when she realised she had mentioned her absent brother so offhandedly, but turned back to the view, watching as clouds scudded across the moon, making the stars flicker.

Tonks nodded understandingly. "Parents have a habit of doing that, Gin. You should know."

"Yeah, I do. I really do," Ginny murmured, and she stood, walking out to the point in the garden where it began to slope downwards slightly, where the view was best and most beautiful. She heard the sounds of Tonks mirroring her movements, and stopping to once more take in the panorama. The hills seemed to stretch away into boundless infinity, melding with the star-spangled sky seamlessly. Ginny had loved this view for as long as she could remember, and had always been rather put-out that her own room on the side of the house afforded only a partial view. Back when they were younger, she and Hermione had lain out here for hours, a blanket on the dewy grass, talking about nothing and picking out shapes in the clouds. Of course, Hermione had tried to use it as an excuse for them to practice their Astronomy skills, but Ginny had had none of it. Though she would never admit it, Ginny had enjoyed those nights with Hermione - without Ron around to push her aside she'd felt as if she belonged, even in an abstract way, to their exclusive little group.

A few minutes of silence ensued, the girls watching the sky play out its nightly dance, and then...

"So?"

"So what?" Ginny raised an eyebrow, completely baffled by the Auror for what seemed like the fiftieth time tonight. Tonks had a way of being so utterly random that she lost most people somewhere along the way.

"You gonna tell me 'bout you and Harry, or do I have to grill the great brooding hulk back on the sofa? 'Cause my curiosity's lit now, I have to know."

The Weasley smiled tiredly, resigning herself to recounting the story as briefly as she could manage, knowing Tonks would cheer her up or calm her down if she got too caught up in memory. "Oh, alright... It was my fifth year, almost the Christmas break. Well I wasn't getting on with any of them - Ron, Hermione or Harry - that well, so things were... weird..." She again flicked her eyes up to the stars, recalling the ostracism from the trio once school had been back in session.

"Not getting on? And, before you answer, can we go into your toasty kitchen or something? I'm gasping for a cuppa tea and it's getting pretty cold out here."

Ginny laughed and nodded, and when a few minutes later when the kitchen door had been closed and had a pretty impressive Imperturbable Charm placed on it by Ginny - it was a rather useful charm around her family - the two girls settled themselves at the scrubbed kitchen table with mugs of steaming tea in front of them, Ginny continued.

"So, like I said, things were... weird. But not," she rushed to say, "completely unexpected. They went back to how they'd always been-"

"How's that then?"

"Oh, you know... their little exclusive group. No one else can possibly be worthy of their attention. Particularly the boys... It wouldn't have been so bad if they hadn't treated me... and Neville... and Luna like equals at the end of fourth year, at the Department-" Ginny stopped herself short - the loss of Sirius had been felt just as acutely by Tonks as by Harry and Lupin, and the event was generally not spoken of around them. It also allowed her a second or two to take a sip of tea and carefully remove all traces of bitterness from her voice.

Tonks' eyes, briefly closing at the mention of her cousin, were open now and looking at Ginny, open interest the prevalent emotion. The younger girl engaged in a mutually rueful smile, and said, "Sorry. So anyway things were kinda crazy for me at school anyway - O.W.L. year - and so I was struggling. I'm definitely more like Fred and George than Bill or Percy..." There it was again - Ginny wondered when she would stop mentally twitching whenever that name dropped from her lips. "And then there was Quidditch, with Harry in charge and manically obsessed with trouncing the Slytherins," she snorted along with Tonks, "not that we never did that anyway. So I went back to my own friends, my own life. I don't think they even notice how they treat others, at times, do they?" Not expecting an answer, Ginny flexed her fingers around her mug and continued.

"So we were heading towards Christmas, like I said. Me and Colin were, like... study buddies, I suppose. We were doing all the same subjects and I didn't see Luna often enough for her to be any use, although she's very good if you were ever stuck on your Divination. It was the last Hogsmeade weekend, and - as usual - I was notably excluded from the 'Dream Team'," her tone on that phrase managed to make the nickname sound like a profound insult, but she didn't care to correct herself or apologise. "I met up with my friends and we - the four of us - headed off. Luna took Neville off to some obscure shop somewhere and I hung out with Colin in the Three Broomsticks until..." she shifted uncomfortably, "Well, you know what happened. You were there."

Tonks' expression was one Ginny thought she'd never get used to seeing on her friend's open, perpetually cheerful face. It was grim now, as she took a drink from her mug. "Yeah, Gin. I remember."

They both remembered, vividly, the attack on Hogsmeade that day. How the Death Eaters had Apparated all around, terrifying students, staff and public alike, and how they had trampled and cursed all in their path. How students had been caught in the crossfire, Dennis Creevey among them.

Both allowed the silence to creep in, much to Ginny's distaste. It wasn't the friendly, trustful silence she had immersed herself in outside earlier. This was what she referred to as 'War Silence'; the type where no one wants to talk because there's nothing to say to make it better or escape the issue. Well, she thought, I don't want any more of it. The War's over now.

She set her mug back on its coaster, noting absently that it was almost empty. "We... got back to the castle, and things were... horrid. Harry was tearing himself up - it was all over his face - and Colin was... are there any words? But with all the times people had turned on him before, Harry just... shut down. He started yelling at anyone who came near him - it was like the summer before fourth year again, back at Headquarters, only worse. Even Ron and Hermione weren't able to handle him..."

Ginny broke off to finish her tea and take the two newly empty mugs over to the teapot for more, her back to her friend. "He didn't see how much everyone else was hurting. He never has, and I know that's what makes him Harry but for GOD'S sake, Colin's brother had died - he should have at least tried to care for once. I don't think any of us were asking that much for him to just-"

She sat back down heavily, forcing her Weasley temper back under wraps. This was why she didn't talk about Harry and fifth year, she got all riled up and he didn't deserve this strong a reaction - not off her, anyway.

"Gin? You ok?" The gentle voice caused her to snap back to the present, to Tonks and the Burrow's warm kitchen and its steaming tea.

"Oh, sorry. Again. So Harry - it's always all about Harry, isn't it? - he was just... awful. Really, he was. And then, one day," she shrugged, "he went too far."

Ginny looked at her, openly puzzled, and gave an extremely short and eloquent verbalisation of said confusion: "Huh?"

She smiled, despite the sombreness of their discussion. This crazily cool girl could always raise her spirits, even during loss and heartache and confusion. As she started to explain, however, her smile receded into the grieved, bereft look of all those who'd fought on the front line in the Wars. Her voice was slow and lacking its usual vibrancy as she said, "Colin came downstairs two days after the attack. He was going home with Dennis' body that afternoon. He came over to the fire in the Common Room; Harry was sitting there, Ron and Hermione were talking quietly, keeping an eye on him, and I was looking for Trevor with Neville. Colin came in and went and sat by the fire too, and Harry just... looked at him. This... silence went on forever, and eventually Colin started to talk. Just about Dennis, like people do when they're grieving. About little things, you know?"

Tonks nodded, her eyes sad, her demeanour subdued.

"But Harry snapped after a couple of minutes. Went off on one about how he couldn't hear that, that he felt bad enough, why was Colin saying all this, blah blah blah... As usual, Harry couldn't just let Colin do what he wanted - needed - to do. Preferred to sink down into his own pain, I'd wager.

"But shouting at Colin was going too far, and Ron and Hermione were in too much shock to react. But I wasn't," Ginny's face was dark and foreboding, her eyes seeming darker than usual as she narrowed them, "No, I wasn't afraid of him at all. I never have been."

The elder girl cut in. "So you two just had a row? That it?"

"It wasn't just a row," Ginny stressed, "It was a fight. I'd had enough of his attitude, of being pushed aside, of school, of the War - I was fed up with everything, and I probably went a bit overboard. But he... said some pretty vile things too. Things he should never have said, about my friends and my past and that stupid crush from when I was little... It got so fierce that Hermione ran to McGonagall to get us to calm down and stop."

Tonks whistled. "Wow, musta been some fight, huh? Getting a teacher..."

"Well, yes it was," Ginny couldn't help but grin. "It was kinda funny, too - McGonagall thought she'd be in for a relatively quiet stretch once the twins left, you could tell. Almost giddy with glee at the prospect - but then she must have seen me and Harry and thought 'Oh no...'"

The giggles soon became full-force guffaws at the image of Professor McGonagall conjured up, and when they finally regained control of themselves, Ginny was feeling much better, and she could tell Tonks' curiosity was satisfied. Their chatter continued onto safer topics - what new looks the elder girl was considering, Quidditch, and recollections of the funnier moments from the night's festivities.

"Well," said Tonks, eventually draining her tea and getting up, "That's me done in. Thanks for a great chat, Gin - sleep well, won't ya?"

"Of course. You too, Tonks."

"'Night," she called as she left the room, Imperturbable Charm now gone from the door, leaving it ajar.

"Yea..." Ginny murmured, staring into her tea meditatively. Memories had surfaced as she had told the story, swirling through her head, etched into her mind as surely as her words had been etched into Riddle's diary. Even the chatter of the last half hour had failed to silence them all, to her chagrin.

"You're so selfish! Can't you see anything going on around you? Are you so busy being the Boy Who Lived that you don't care who you hurt along the way?"

"Yea, maybe I

am selfish! Think that if you want... but at least I'm strong enough to fight - I'm not just some girl too weak to protect herself from a stupid book!"

Just some girl,

he had called her. Well, she thought, sipping her cooling tea in the dimly-lit kitchen of the house where she had grown up, I'm not just some girl, Harry Potter. I'm more than that. And you missed it.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she failed to notice that Harry was standing in the doorway, his green eyes fixed on her as she drank her tea. So caught up that when he crossed the kitchen and sat down opposite her, she almost leapt out of her seat in shock.

~~~

Harry had been sitting on the Weasleys' battered yet oh-so-comfortable sofa for an indeterminate amount of time; he had observed people's comings and goings with muted disinterest as he drank his firewhisky and coke, pleading tiredness to anyone who questioned his complete lack of any attempts whatsoever to communicate.

Which,

Harry had thought wryly, isn't a total untruth. He was tired all the time these days, just not in the way that sleep could cure. He was tired of... this. Of watching people dance and drink and joke while he trundled through his own life. Of only feeling remote and infrequent moments of joy and laughter and life - although he did admit that watching Colin Creevey nearly get his nose pulled off by first the pencil case and then Ginny had been exceptionally funny - when he knew that just around the corner lay more bleak, grey near-despair of ever finding another moment like it. He wished more nights could be like this one had, so he could somehow sustain himself through the grey times.

He had watched Tonks get up from the armchair beside the fire and follow Ginny outside, then he had heard muffled voices, the pair returning, and then nothing more. He presumed that they'd either headed back outside - unlikely if the freezing draft blown in when they had opened the door was any indication - or they had Imperturbed the door. Harry had thrown a cushion at the door to test his theory, and had been slightly ticked off when his theory had turned out correct and the cushion bounced off without making contact.

He had been sitting by the fire ever since, staring alternately into its flickering beauty and at the door to the kitchen, feeling supremely left out. It conjured up memories of fifth year, of anger at Dumbledore and Umbridge and Sirius. Sirius, Harry thought, the hurt duller but no less painful now, I wish you were here. He also remembered other things, namely Ginny. Of fleeing the library, forbidden Easter eggs in their hands and bags hitting their heads, of sitting at the table in Grimmauld Place waiting for news on Mr. Weasley, and of the memorable sketch performed in the kitchen right before his sixth year in which 'Voldie' (Ginny in a beige tea-cosy) and 'Lucy-Darling' (Tonks sporting a ringletted parody of the Malfoy hair) had plotted the downfall of anyone and everyone they could think of. An involuntary smile crept onto Harry's features at the recollections.

When the door had opened, a happy-looking Tonks bidding Ginny goodnight over her shoulder, Harry had found himself drawn to the kitchen by some unfamiliar force he was in no way used to or prepared for. He had stood in the doorway, watching the youngest Weasley staring thoughtfully into her tea, her eyes guarded and introspective. And Harry's thoughts turned back to that fateful argument of sixth year - the fight that had driven the wedge between himself and Ginny. Words tossed out in anger and hurt that still, years later, hung heavy in the air. Harry was tired of the weight.

Before he knew what he was doing, he had crossed the kitchen and sat opposite her, startling her beyond belief. She jumped, her eyes widened, and she flushed as she had when he had first known her back in his second year. But quickly, all-too quickly, she became the Ginny he had known more recently; guarded, almost-hostile eyes, her mouth set and chin lifted defiantly. She really is startlingly like Fred and George, he marvelled. All laughter and defiance.

They sat like that for a few torturous seconds, both unsure of how and why they were there. Ginny stood up to clear away the mugs, and as soon as she had left his line of sight he said, "Did you have a good time?"

A tiny pause, then she replied. "Yes I did, thank you."

"Well... good."

She sat back down, and silence reigned again. Harry, employed in musings, considered how best to start a conversation which she could not shut down with a single sentence as she just had, and was coming up blank all around. He was therefore amazed when she spoke first this time.

"I thought you'd have gone to bed by now. Everyone else is asleep or gone. Why haven't you gone home?"

"You're awake."

"And you didn't answer the question."

Harry exhaled, slowly, before he spoke. "I didn't want to be there. Not tonight. But I'm not ready to sleep yet, either."

He thought he saw understanding flash through her eyes, but the guards snapped back up, and Harry felt irritated that she was so restrained and sharp around him. The emotion must have shown on his face, because Ginny snapped, "You don't have to stay here, you know."

"I know," he shot back. "But I'm going to."

A few more moments of near-unbearable silence passed in which Harry and Ginny, had they only known it, were thinking along similar lines. Trying to pinpoint the exact point at which their burgeoning friendship had gone irreparably sour. For Ginny, it had been when Ron and Hermione had found them on the train at the beginning of her fifth year, and the threesome had told her they had 'private business' and to 'go be with her own friends'. For Harry, it had been when she had accused him of not caring during that horrible fight. The fight in which, as far as he was concerned, she had chosen Colin Creevey over him.

Both drew huge sighs, exhaling at the same time into the silent room. The synchrony suddenly seemed funny to both of them, and coupled with the tense atmosphere they had created, both let out tense giggles which persisted until Ginny smiled, rendering Harry quiet. It was the first real smile he'd received from her in years, and he'd forgotten how they looked and how it felt to be the recipient of one. He felt himself smile back, an honest - if tired - smile.

After a few minutes of stilted small talk, Ginny's face abruptly split into a leonine yawn - For such a petite girl, she yawns hugely, Harry thought with an inner smile - and stood with a graceful stretch.

"Ugh, I'm off to bed, I reckon. You alright down here?"

Looking up, Harry saw that her face was less closed off than earlier - still not the open smiling face she wore around her friends - but it was an improvement. "Yes," he said, smiling again. "I will be."

And, as she turned to the door, Harry found himself watching her leave with something like reluctance. He ran a hand through his messy hair, shook his head to clear the cobwebs, and after a few minutes alone in the kitchen, started the long trek up the stairs to Ron's bedroom, still confused as to exactly why he had gone into the kitchen, and why for Merlin's sake he felt better now that he had.