The Thaw

"Ginny!"

"It's too early."

"Gin-Gin get up!"

"Mmmph g' way. Too early." She groaned out into her pillow.

Someone was prodding her in the side and she was about to give whoever was doing it a good beating over the head.

"Ginny! Everyone is waiting down in the garden!"

Hearing her mother's snapping voice she shot up. Charlie was leaving.

She finally found her feet as she heard her mother close her door.

Ginny rubbed at her eyes blearily.

Her room slowly resolved itself.

Her sun-bleached curtains were fluttering in the wind. A stifling heat hit her the moment she had consciousness. It was boiling in her room at the top of the house.

She glanced over at her nightstand and saw that it was a quarter to eleven.

The family must have arrived!

She stood and walked to her wardrobe not really paying attention past a minimum. She was anxious to see her extended family one last time. No, she wanted to see them one more time. Not last time; just, before they all went their separate ways...

***

The preparations for the wedding had been exquisite. Weeks before the set date, preparations began. First, Mrs. Weasley periodically disappeared with Fleur, assumedly to shop for her dress.

Bill became nervous, then calm, then explosive with giddiness, then nervous again. He acted normal around Fleur but when ever she wasn't around; Ginny could tell he was cracking up.

Since "Bill was Bitten," which it was now universally referred to, he had seemed to recover quite well.

There were odd outbursts and he sometimes became angry out of nothing. His temper at those rare times was explosive. Ginny, almost satirically, thought back to the angry vela she had seen at the World Cup. Bill had become a perfect match for his soon-to-be wife.

The absence of Fleur's family thus far had finally been explained in the weeks running up to the big event.

Over dinner, Bill had finally told them what everyone had assumed.

Fleur's parents were dead.

Though her brilliant eyes remained clear and her face impassive, Ginny could tell Fleur was bothered by this. It was in the way her shoulders fell.

Fleur's grandfather and her younger sister Gabriel had arrived the next day to renewed blast of motherliness in Mrs. Weasley, apparently inspired by the new revelation.

Then came the decorating: an explosion of pink, white and gold.

Ginny thought she would be seeing pink until she died; there was so much of it.

Then there were the flowers.

There was so much life. It was such a haven from the world. The newspaper sitting on the table every morning was the only hint of anything possibly wrong in the world. The summer had been sunny, the light warm air, pleasant.

Ginny let herself fall asleep thinking of the wedding, thinking of Harry and what he would look like in his dress robes, would he dance with her? Would he kiss her again? Would she let him?

Harry arrived on a cloudy morning with Ron and Hermione.

The previous evening Ginny had caught Ron sneaking out of the house as he tripped over one of the overly large potted plants, which hadn't yet been moved out to the garden for Mrs. Weasley's ridiculously unjustified fear of frost.

"Ron?"

She heard him swear, furiously.

"Ginny, go back to bed!"

"Ronald, where do you think you are going?"

"Shut up! Not so loud! And it's none of your business where I'm going!"

Ginny whisked up a large crystal vase off its' stands effortlessly.

"You wouldn't!"

"Where are you going?" Ginny's heart was racing. There was more in it than just about tattling. It was about safety. Voldemort was out there.

Even through all the flowers which were now more abundant than dust in their house, the sparkling crystal adorned patio conjured especially for the wedding, the bright sunny days and the old oak trees darkness inevitably came and she retreated to her room, a single knowledge lingering in the back of her mind: Tom had returned.

He had relented to tell her his plans and grudgingly she had let him go, the vase unbroken. During the wedding, it had sat on a makeshift alter bearing beautiful flowers which had been miraculously spared from Ron's feet.

Ron had told her that he was going to fetch Harry and Hermione and then to visit McGonagall.

It was an "important" visit and he would "tell her later" why.

Later didn't come until after the wedding. And it had been Harry who decided to let her in on the plan, not Ron.

Ginny barely felt alive watching Fleur become a part of her family.

Standing next to Gabriel in a close fitting golden dress Ginny would never have thought her mother would agree too. And, thinking back on it, her mother probably hadn't actually seen Ginny properly when she tried on the dress in the shop; she had been crying.

Judging by the look on the dry-eyed Mrs. Weasley's face at the reception, she did not approve of the dress.

Harry, though, hadn't been able to keep his eyes off her.

She only felt his eyes leave her when Fleur and Bill's joined wands created a dazzling display. Ginny had torn her eyes from Harry then.

Liquid wind, liquid light, beautiful sparks soft energy emerged from the tips of the wands and surrounded the two, illuminating Ginny's face as she watched. An all-consuming feeling of fullness washed over the hushed gathering of people. As she watched silver fairy wings fluttered into Fleur's face, glittering and glinting in the light. They soaked into her skin like water, making her truly shine for a moment.

Everyone was crying and applauding.

Ginny felt fear spike through her body. Then it was gone. She was being silly. Did she expect Voldemort to jump from behind the rosebushes? In the depth of her mind, she did. How could they be so foolish to think that, while people were dying in battle, they could get away with having a wedding? Ginny didn't characteristically think like that, it was just the nature of the situation.

But, still, she didn't feel right.

When Harry came up to her and led her toward the dancing. Her shoes kicked off in the grass where they had been so often s a child and no were with those of the guests, she felt vulnerable.

As though just beyond her favorite tree was a sleeping dragon.

"Just relax, Gin, its fine," Harry had whispered in her ear.

They had been dancing for a while.

He leaned closer. His mouth was drawing closer to her. She was breathing hard. He turned away. His eyes joined with hers.

She pressed a hand against his chest, pushing him away.

"I--I need a drink."

Ginny walked away, quickly. This really wasn't good for her. And she felt faint, but that must have been the heat. Surely, it was the heat.

She wanted to find Hermione. Ginny had always sought her advice. And now, her head whirling, she needed to let out some steam. It just felt odd that her heart was still.

She passed a babbling group of French women who tossed her disdainful looks, as though she was not pretty enough for Fleur's wedding party. It's not like it really mattered. Then she spotted a group of graduated Hogwarts students by the punch bowl. She whirled around and started walking the other direction. She was not in the mood to deal with that snotty Ravenclaw right now.

Then she spotted Ron and Hermione. They were dancing by the edge of the patio, looking sheepish but both wearing ridiculous grins. As she watched, Ron twirled her inexpertly and knocked her into an old man. Red, faced, he apologized. Ginny smiled and shook her head.

It was good they were happy-- even if they didn't know what they were yet. Ginny knew. They were Meant-to-be with a capital 'M.'

She sighed.

It felt almost childish, but every day Ginny felt as though she had a hole in her life, like she was waiting for the perfect man.

It was wrong to think that he even existed, wrong to think that one can ever have perfection, even in a relationship, inexcusable to be greedy enough to hope for that.

The rest of the party, she hadn't spoken a word to Hermione except causal discussion, uncomfortably by Harry's side at dinner.

Ron and Hermione left after a hasty course. They claimed to be going for a walk around the garden. But as it transpired.... Well, for another story... Ginny thought disgustedly.

She watched their backs out of sight, keenly aware she was now alone at a table with Harry and surrounded by tables and tables of distant relatives she didn't know. She felt more out of place than she ever had in her back yard.

"So, Ginny," Harry's voice seemed distant, "which one of your brothers do you reckon will get married next?"

"I suppose one of the twins... Charlie probably won't." Of course Harry would want to look forward to another wedding. It was normal--about the only thing normal left. Though, for Ginny, it was hard to think of the next time they would be united as a family. It seemed an impossibility to hope every one of her family would make it through the war. And maybe, just maybe, if she didn't think about it, it would happen. Maybe if she didn't hope for it, she would find herself sitting here ten months from now rejoicing at the defeat of Tom with all her family, all the Order, and all of her friends.

"Maybe it'll be Ron," Harry said absently. Ginny thought she saw his eyes lingering on the gardens.

Ginny nodded faintly. It was possible and Ginny hoped for her brother's sake that he would be allowed that happiness. She shifted uncomfortably. A slow song had just been struck up by the quartet and many couples were dancing. The dully happy chatter seemed to fall. Bill and Fleur had started another dance. Ginny watched as she gracefully spun around, her beautiful robes flowering out around her and her hair floating along as though it was in water. Bill was limping a little but their faces were absolutely lit. Ginny let out a heavy breath, not taking her eyes off her brother. He had been the first to be touched by the war, and here he was, still smiling. Maybe it would be okay. Maybe the monster wasn't as big as she thought it was.

Harry shifted beside her. Her silky dress grew warm at a spot half way down her leg. Harry was really too close. She turned toward him, carefully positioning herself further from contact with his leg. It really was too much to be sitting next to him at this table.

He looked at her. Ginny saw his green eyes as if they were searching hers. His mouth opened slightly as if to say something. She looked away. He never said anything.

Ginny remained stationed at her seat for what felt like another hour. Harry seemed to have lapsed into his own thoughts and didn't press for conversation. It was better that way. Once, Ginny thought about wandering off, away from Harry, but she found his silent company more comfortable than isolation would have been.

Ginny twisted her glass in her hands, thinking about her inevitable trip back to Hogwarts in the fall. She drained the last of the contents. With much resignation, she placed the cup on the table perhaps more heavily than necessary.

Harry looked at her for a second. "Let's get more punch."

Ginny half nodded and stood, accompanying him across the garden. Walking next to him, she decided was much worse than sitting next to him. Ginny could feel her mother's eyes on her. Was she dreaming about the next wedding? Ginny didn't know. She didn't care.

She noticed it was growing dark. A beautiful sunset had blossomed to the west. She felt glad the affair was almost at a close and she would have to endure wearing the shoes what now hurt like hot razors for only a little longer.

Before they had returned to their seats, they were blocked by a ring of people. Bill was standing in the center, thanking everyone for coming. It has been wonderful, he said. Shaking hands, and hugging all around, he announced his and Fleur's departure.

People queued up to say their separate goodbyes. Mrs. Weasley was at her son's arm, crying again, and Ron and Hermione were nowhere to be seen.

Ginny started back to her station at the table after saying goodbye to her brother.

"Ginny! Wait!"

She stopped, feeling Harry's thin hands grasping hers and turned to face him.

"Gin, meet me back here later tonight, after everyone has gone and your family is in for the night..."

"Why?"

"One last thing, before we leave," Bill's voice boomed over the crowd and silence fell again. "I know that today has been a slice out of heaven for me, and it's hard to believe that we still have a war to win, but we do."

"Bill, dear, this really isn't the time--" Mrs. Weasley interrupted, patting her son's arm.

"No, mother, its fine." He paused, then said louder, "Just incase I don't get the opportunity again, I just wanted to say to Harry that we all have faith in him. That we all know, in the end, he will be the one to defeat You-Know-Who." Bill had made his way over to Harry and plucked him away from Ginny's side. He looked back at her as he was ushered into the center of the onlookers.

Everyone was clapping. It was odd, really. Harry looked very deeply, grimly touched. He had strong resolution in his eyes.

"And, mate, if I ever have a son, I hope that he can be like you."

The guests had left. Bill and Fleur would be away for a time. No one knew when their honeymoon ended and their mission began. But regardless, they wouldn't be seen for months.

The garden was empty of last minuet stragglers and the cleaning had begun. The expensive array of vases and other decorations, the garden canopy, it all had come down. Various plants still littered the yard in their bare containers.

Mrs. Weasley had said they had done enough cleaning up to be doing for one night.

Most of the tables were still out. Guttering candles were licked by the slight wind that had picked up after sundown, and Ginny was still outside. She had gratefully changed from her dress shoes hours ago.

She shifted under her favorite tree, feeling mostly relaxed.

Her eyes fell shut against a renewing northern wind. The horizon was now a deep blue and the sky was darkening. Ginny tried to make herself happy about seeing Harry in such a private way, and every rational thought said she should be happy, but she found she just didn't care.

The dance meant next to nothing in her mind. The hand on her back was nothing more than a clammy heat. She didn't feel like she was pressing herself into a beautiful soul, she had felt as though she was toughing a shell, a hollow body. She reflected blankly, sitting out in the night.

It wasn't as though she didn't like him. She did. She was almost sure. She was just hesitant, and, well, a little wary towards him.

Above her the heavens stretched out for what seemed like an eternity. Blue puffs of cloud gently made their way through the sky hiding and releasing the stars that now seemed so close. Darkness consumed her and Ginny fell into a deep silence she couldn't shake, one that consumed all traces of her emotion and left her mind devoid of all thought. Feelings hit her with such force and complexity of which was offered no explanation. First it was sadness, anger, then, confusion, and then emptiness.

She broke from the trance when the leaves on the over-grown tree beside her house rustled, letting the moonlight play on her face. Thoughts started ripping through her, so fast that she could hardly know what they meant. She tried to find some sort of meaning when, after Ginny had lost all sense of time a voice invaded her mind.

"Ginny."

She looked up. It was Harry. She willed herself to smile, but she just couldn't. She just looked at him, sadness etched in her eyes.

He took her hand and led her to nearby table, the last with a lit candle. She flinched.

He pulled a chair for her and then sat.

Ginny watched his face. His soft profile threw his face into harder, golden shapes. Ginny studied his constant form through the changing light.

Silent moments ticked past on the wind.

One particularly hard gust extinguished the flame.

Ginny looked away.

She could sense he was composing himself, readying himself for something.

"Ginny, I know this is going to be hard. And I'm not saying I will make it through, but I want... I want to know you are going to be there on the other side. For me, for us, for a future..."

He looked down at his hands.

Her heart was clamoring. She felt a sudden anger boiling in her. Hot resentment that she couldn't explain directed itself at him. Why was he saying this? They had called it off. There was no point. She didn't need him toying with her dreams right now. She could barely think of next week. How could she begin to hope for a next year? How could she hope for a new life? It was unfair. He was being unfair.

"Ginny?"

"No, Harry. This is selfish! If you want to be together in the future, fine, but we both know we can't now. It wouldn't be right. It isn't right. And all I have felt for you over the years has been ripped from me again. And you want me to do that again for you? Why are you saying this to me?"

"Ginny, I just want you to promise."

"You could have had that promise years ago."

"And I want to promise you."

Ginny stood up.

"I can't."

Harry stood up quickly and pulled her to him. "You can!" His lips sought hers fiercely. She twisted out of his grip and ran back up the hill to her bench.

She really couldn't do this. She didn't even want to talk to him. It would be easier if she didn't even have to see him. He had just broken up with her not three weeks ago, after Dumbledore's death. And now, in three days, the trio was going to set off to find Voldemort on their own. She wasn't allowed to go no matter what protest she made to her mother. Professor McGonagall was to become their secret keeper. The three would become invisible to the world at the end of the week and no bit of powerful magic short of anything on the new Headmistress herself could allow anyone to find any trace of them. She was the only one out side of the trio that knew this. Harry had confided in her earlier this summer and it was unbelievable that he was asking her back after everything he had said--

"...it would be hard. Ginny, I know it will be hard, but I will write all the time, and--" he had come up the hill. She glanced at him. His eyes looked wary and he kept his distance. His voice sounded so hopeful and pleading.

"No."

"Why?" Harry asked in a small voice. "I just want to know there is a future. Don't you understand that I need something on the other side of this?"

"No," Ginny said in a small voice. "It means nothing! You will be gone and Harry, there were other reasons we ended it, remember? I think it is best if we don't-- for now. If you wrote me and I had another one of those attacks," she trailed off... "I could be very dangerous to you." She stood up, shaking her head determinedly. "Hell, knowing what I know, I already am."

"It's not a question of writing you! It's about knowing that we are still us, no matter what, even if it's not official. It's about knowing that you still love me! Ginny I need that!" Harry looked away from her towards the ground with a very pained expression.

Ginny didn't know what to say. Honestly, she wasn't sure if she did love him. All those years of pining hardly amounted to true love. And their talks were never anything spectacular. He never let her in. He never let his guard down. While they were dating, something just didn't feel right. She felt empty--felt, like someone else, like she wasn't alive. She had felt--alone.

"I can't." She said, finally. She didn't know why she was being unfair. This whole discussion seemed so impossible. It was something she just needed to fight.

Without another word, he turned and walked back toward the house, leaving Ginny. Sitting where she used to dream those childish dreams of the Legendary Harry Potter, she wondered if she still felt anything for him, and her thoughts were taking in the impossibility of it all being what she truly wanted. When it came down to it and she saw past the glory, she saw him as a brother. There was just so much left in her that he could never touch. She needed someone that fit her more perfectly than he had, someone more opposite of who she was.

Slowly Ginny made her way to back her house. At the table she and Harry had shared she absolutely intended not to stop until she noticed something sitting beside the candle. It was a box. She picked it up, shaking slightly. She cracked it open and saw a simple ring in the light of the moon. She took it out, fingering it slowly. It was silver and very smooth, on the inside the words "a promise" were engraved in a italic script.

Ginny felt sick. Since he had left, she had been strengthening her resolve to move on. Now, she didn't know what she wanted.

She looked at her house, quiet, sitting innocently beyond the front gardens. Harry was somewhere in there. What was he thinking? Her eye was drawn to the light emanating from her kitchen. She gasped, all feeling plummeting to her feet. Next to the door, a tall cloaked figure flicked his wand repeatedly at the door handle. Fear shot through her body.

Her chest heaved as she made her feet move quietly and quickly to the other side of her house.

Her head felt heavy with a rush of blood. The wards wouldn't hold for long. Her family could be asleep. Harry, especially, was in danger.

Once she was around her house, her heart pounded in her ears as she through caution to the winds and bolted out from under the trees towards her house in a straight line for the front door. It let her in quickly and she screamed for her dad at the top of her voice slamming the front door closed.

At that moment, there was a loud bang of a spell hitting the back door.