I Saw My Lady Weep

Chapter 17: ... It's Empty, Empty Cage.

Hermione Granger found that she had to almost sprint up the stairs to keep up with Ginny. It wasn't all that a surprise; Hermione had always been more bookish than athletic, and if there was one word that could describe Ginny Weasley, it was athletic.

So it was that she arrived at Ginny's bedroom just in time to have the door slammed in her face. From behind it Hermione could hear Ginny heaving long sobs. "Ginny!" Hermione knocked, gently. "Ginny, it's Hermione. Can I come in?" Without waiting for an answer, Hermione stepped into the room.

Ginny was lying flat on her bed, crying into her pillow. She didn't seem to notice Hermione's entrance, for when Hermione sat next to her on the bed and stroked Ginny's hair, Ginny shied away. "Ginny... are you going to be all right?" Hermione asked.

"He was right..." Ginny cried. "I forgot him."

"Who, Fred? No you didn't, Ginny. None of us has." Hermione continued to stroke Ginny's hair, trying to get the younger girl to calm down.

Ginny huffed. "I haven't spared a thought for Fred in weeks."

"Why do I doubt that?" Hermione asked. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You probably think of him all the time."

"I don't. I really don't. I mean... Occasionally I'll think of something he said, or I'll see something and think he'd have enjoyed it, but I'm not really thinking of him." Ginny sat up and wiped at her eyes.

"So you have been thinking of him after all. Just because you're not dwelling on Fred doesn't mean you've forgot him. It just means you're living. There is nothing wrong with living."

There was a knock at the door, and Harry entered. "Ginny, are you okay?"

Ginny wiped at her eyes again. "I've been better. Harry, I'm sorry... I just..."

"No, it's okay," Harry said. He waved a hand, seemingly dismissing all concern. "George was drunk, yeah? I don't think he meant what he was saying." He turned to Hermione. "Are you okay?"

Hermione nodded. She was hoping Harry's presence would calm Ginny and make her realize her feelings were real and appropriate. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was just worried about Ginny."

Harry nodded. "So, Gin..."

Ginny was staring at the ring on her left hand. She twisted it around her finger in a loop, and then turned her attention to Harry. "You don't think he was right, do you? That we've moved too fast?"

"No, Ginny... I think..." he began.

"Because I think he might have been," Ginny blurted out, interrupting whatever it was Harry was trying to say. "I think we might be moving far too quickly." She took the engagement ring off and stared at it. The inscription glittered bright enough to be read by all three of them.

Still staring at the ring, Ginny reached for Harry's hand. He took her hand in his and gave it a comforting squeeze. "Gin..." Before he could say anything more, she pulled his hand toward her and dropped the engagement ring into it. She curled his fingers around it, then let go.

He opened his palm. His eyes began to film over with tears as he stared into his hand.

"Ginny, don't do this! You don't want to do this!" Hermione begged. Her eyes were tearing up.

"Harry, I do love you. I will always love you. I haven't stopped loving you. We just... need to wait. Right now, I can't... I can't be engaged right now. It's not the right time to be thinking about getting married. Not right now. Not for me. I just need a little more time, all right?" She finally looked into his eyes. There was a pleading look in them.

Harry's mouth moved, as if he wanted to say something. Tears were flowing from his eyes freely now.

"Please, Harry..." Ginny begged.

Harry stood, still staring at the ring. "I don't know what to..." He swallowed, visibly. "Er... If... If this is what you... what you really want... I... Um... I will always love you, Ginny. If you could..." He turned toward the bedroom door, dropping the ring into the pocket of his blue jeans. "You waited a year for me. I owe you the time you need, after what I put you through."

Harry stepped through the door and turned. "Ginny... I..." He began. "Nothing... Nothing I guess. I'm... I think I should leave. I love you, Gin."

It was only then that he seemed to remember that Hermione was there. Hermione met his gaze and held it for a moment, and in that moment there was a depth of pain and loss and confusion that Hermione had never before experienced. "Harry...?" Hermione whispered.

He shook his head and closed the bedroom door behind him. Hermione and Ginny both jumped at the sharp CRACK that accompanied an Apparation.

"Oh, Ginny... don't you know what you just did?" Hermione stared with a look bordering on horror. "The one thing Harry's wanted most in the world is a family, and he wants that family to start with you! You just... You just... tore that away from him! Ginny..." She couldn't continue the thought.

Ginny's face contorted with sorrow. Ginny collapsed against Hermione, letting all her anguish out at once. Hermione cried silently, trying to be strong for Ginny while disconsolate herself.

She stroked Ginny's back, shushing the younger girl like she was a baby. "It'll be all right, Ginny... It'll be all right." Hermione absently wiped her eyes with her sleeve. "Everything will be fine. He still loves you, and you still love him, and in the morning you'll both realize how silly this has all been. You'll both see that this was all a big mistake."

Ginny leaned off of Hermione, letting herself collapse to the bed. She wriggled over onto her side so she could see Hermione better and coughed into one hand. "No, Hermione... I have to. Even though I... I hurt him... And I know I hurt him... I had to do this."

Ginny stood, holding herself as tightly as she could. "We just moved too fast, Hermione. I just... We both need to wait for a more appropriate time." To Hermione, it seemed that Ginny was searching for a justification. "Everything's so mixed up right now and we're all pretending things are normal. But nothing is normal anymore. So close to Fred's death and I'm thinking about getting married. That's just... It feels wrong, somehow."

"Why, because George says so?" Hermione asked, a bit more harshly than she intended. "George can get bent... I'm not ashamed of myself for accepting Ron's proposal, and I refuse to allow him to be ashamed for asking me. You should be feeling the same way, Ginny. There is nothing wrong with falling in love and wanting to stay in love."

"It's not just George, Hermione. If it was just George, I think I could chalk it up to him being a prat and let it go. I just feel... It hurt. What he said hurt. And I think it hurt so much because I agreed with what he was saying."

"Of course it hurts. I know it hurts, Ginny. It's going to take time to get over, but don't you think that you deserve to get over it? Don't you think you deserve being happy together with Harry?"

She pulled Ginny close into a hug. "Don't you think Fred would want you to be happy?"

Ginny shrugged. "Hermione, I still love him. I didn't say I want to break up with him! I just need some time..." There was a flare of light in the center of the room, and a glittering object appeared out of nowhere. It dropped to the floor as both young women, fearing an attack, ducked backward, trying to find cover where there was nowhere to be found.

Hermione recovered first. She leaned over the camp bed she had frantically upended and poked the newly arrived object with her wand. Hermione looked up to Ginny, who was only just coming out from behind the hope chest at the end of the bed. "Ginny... I think it's your ring..."

Ginny slowly approached it, only tentatively closing in order to finally pick the thing up. It was, indeed, her engagement ring. She could clearly read the lettering of the inscription. Harry and Ginevra, Always. She stared at Hermione, open-mouthed.

"I thought he put it in his pocket... Didn't he put it in his pocket?" Hermione wondered.

Ginny stared at the ring for a long, long while. "Harry and Ginevra, Always," she whispered. And without thinking about it she put the ring back on. Hermione smirked at her.

Ginny shrugged and wiped the last of the tears from her eyes. "Okay, okay... so I'm weak-willed. I love him. You're right. I can't go through with it; I can't just toss my relationship with Harry aside..."

"That's fine, Ginny... Hopefully you'll be able to tell him that before this blows up too far."

XxxxxxX

Harry stepped out of the shadowed park across the street from Number 12, Grimmauld Place. He wasn't quite sure why he came here, but he admitted to himself that, right now at least, he wasn't thinking quite straight. Harry felt empty... as if someone had grasped him by his feet and squeezed everything out of him like toothpaste from a tube.

He walked across the street, hoping the door wasn't locked. It wasn't. Harry stepped inside, allowing the door to close quietly behind him. The place was a total shambles. He remembered hearing somewhere that Grimmauld Place had been thoroughly ransacked after he and Ron and Hermione had escaped, but the word "ransacked" just didn't seem to cover the reality of the situation.

Everything that wasn't nailed down had been taken, it seemed, and everything that had been nailed down looked to have been smashed. And what couldn't be smashed -- Harry ran a finger across a section of wall that had once been covered by the portrait of Walburga Black, exposing a layer of soot - was set on fire. He quickly explored the various rooms on the ground floor, finding that they were all in similar shape. Despite having hated this place, its condition made him sad, somehow.

Harry stepped out into the front hall and sighed. There wasn't much else he could do. "Kreacher! I have a job for you!" he called. In an instant, the house-elf was standing before Harry, making a deep bow. The ancient creature was dressed in a freshly pressed dish-cloth adorned with the Hogwarts logo, and seemed to have combed his ear-hair quite recently.

"Master has summoned his faithful elf. How might Kreacher serve Master Harry this even...?" Kreacher trailed off as he saw the destruction surrounding them. The tiny creature spun slowly in place. "Foul servants of the Dark Lord... look at what they have wrought in the house of my mistress." Kreacher's eyes finally landed on the burned out frame that once contained the last remnants of his dead mistress. With a howl of sadness and rage, the elf hurled himself repeatedly at the wall.

"Kreacher, stop! Calm down!" Harry ordered. The elf became motionless instantly. He was still heaving, gulping air and crying, but was no longer frantic. "Kreacher, I need your help making this place livable again. We need to get all this..." Harry gestured at the general destruction around them. "... cleaned up. I guess I'm living here from now on instead of the Burrow, and I don't want to live in a disaster zone."

"Kreacher will gladly help Master Harry repair the House of Black. Will be starting tonight, or does Master Harry wish to wait until morning?" Kreacher asked. "It is quite late, and if Master Harry will excuse Kreacher for saying, he looks quite tired."

Harry grimaced. "Tomorrow. We'll start tomorrow. Right now I want a drink. Do we have any firewhisky in the house, Kreacher?"

"Kreacher will check," the elf replied, and vanished. He was back in a moment with a small amber-colored bottle containing a deep auburn liquid and a glass. "The foul servants of the Dark Lord couldn't find the last bottle in the reserve, Master Harry. It had rolled under the racks."

Harry took the proffered items. "That's fine. I'm going into the parlor to think for a while, Kreacher. Can you make sure there's a bed in reasonable condition somewhere? Or at least a mattress that's not too bad I can kip on later?"

"Certainly, Master Harry. It is my pleasure to serve such a noble and honorable master." Kreacher bowed at the waist and vanished again.

Harry stepped into the parlor, eyeing the broken and overturned furniture. He casually kicked a smashed chair into the fireplace, and then lit it with his wand. Sitting, he poured himself a healthy glass of firewhisky and propped himself against the wall. She ended it. That traitorous voice in his head that was always delivering bad news and blame spoke in a thin, insidious voice. She wants nothing to do with you."

Harry shook his head. That's not what she said... she just needs time to adjust to everything. She still loves you; she just needs to take it slow. It sounded hollow somehow when he said it to himself. He took a sip of the whiskey, and for the first time in his life actually cherished the burn as it slid down his throat. It was a sensation other than shock and loss, and that made it good.

She's never coming back. She threw you away. She gave the ring back. Even you know what that means. He hated that voice... the voice that said it was entirely his fault when things went wrong. But he couldn't help but listen to it. I can give her back the ring. She didn't say she didn't love me... if I ask her again... Sometime in the future... When the time is right... She'll...

He couldn't convince himself. Angrily, he threw the glass into the fireplace where it burst in a shower of glass shards and flame. Don't kid yourself. You blew it with her. You hurt her too deeply...

"Brilliant. Bloody brilliant," Harry cursed himself. He took his wand out and waved it over himself, removing the glass that had sprayed out of the fireplace. Then he conjured another glass and poured himself some more.