~*~ Four Months Later ~*~
Arthur slammed his fist against the table, anger coursing through his veins, blood rushing to his head. Everyone hushed, leaving the gentle tinkle of glass to conquer the piercing silence rattling the room. “I DON’T CARE WHAT YOU THINK IS SAFEST! MY DAUGHTER IS OUT THERE ALONE AND WE HAVE ABANDONED HER!”
“Arthur, I understand, but–”
The window remained slightly open, icy winter air creeping through, casting a bitter cold around the room; the last embers of the fire long gone. It was heading on 1:00am, and there was only the moon to shed a dim glow. She felt like the only person alive on the whole planet. Ginny craved the reassurances from her friends saying everything would be alright, but she knew they wouldn’t lie. She prayed for a word from her family, from the Order. But there was nothing.
It was a dark, empty void that she needed to be filled –with words or a gesture– but they weren’t there. She drank in the lonely silence that left her hollow; the darkness continually threatening to engulf her, though she forcibly declined, not letting it succeed, not until they came back.
The silenced gnawed at her insides, it hung in the air, never leaving.
Ginny was left alone and no one dared interrupt the never-ending daze she seemed to be constantly in. Looking into her eyes was like looking into the eyes of the dead – hers were soulless… empty… lonely.
She had been a fighter, but a fighter no more; the pain had prevailed. Months she had spent looking, searching for even a fragment of hope, but she had lost faith right after Voldemort had–
She had promised herself this was the last night, the last letter, after 102, all left not responded.
You told me if I ever needed help you’d be there for me. But it’s been three months. Where are you? I need you, all of you, my family, and you’re not here and let me tell you it’s shitty. You’re all selfish and idiotic, because if you think we’re winning this war without the Order you’re insane. You’re nowhere to be found and things are getting worse.
“Harry, what is it?” He licked his lips in anxiety, heart pounding in every limb it dared.
“Ginny.” His voice hoarse he repeated, “Another of Ginny’s letters.”
“Harry, you know you can’t respond.”
“No, Arthur was right! This is Ginny we’re talking about–”
“Harry, we know how you–”
“NO YOU DON’T!” His scar pulsed, his hand leapt up instinctively, but he ignored the pain. Eyes followed him as he stood up and walked away. Before reaching the doorway, he craned his neck over his shoulder to face everyone who was watching. “I’m going back for her and I don’t care how many of you disagree. We should’ve done this a long time ago… we never should have left her in the first place.” Then he faced forward and walked out, his chin tilted upward in confidence, he would face the odds to get her back.
His quill scratched against the parchment hastily. “I’m coming Ginny, I’ll get you out of there.”
I’m coming. H
There it was, all the lights switched on as the room bleared with light. She tapped the tips of her fingers against the armchair, impatient. Her body sprung alive with its usual zest, a fire blossoming, travelling at a million miles an hour through her blood stream. The cogs in her mind turned as she tried to fit the pieces of the puzzle. Passion blazed behind the lids of her eyes.
Ginny swung into the dormitory, her friends leapt in surprise. Grins spread across their faces. “Ginny Weasley.”
“It’s about time.”
“Don’t I know it.” She winked, feeling drunk with happiness, the effect from an overdose of hope. “Spread the word. Ginny Weasley is recruiting people for the DA. We need to fight. It’s time to end this war.”
Creeping stealthily under the invisibility cloak, Harry took the stairs, crossing the corridors to get to the Owlery. He had promised he would send a message once he arrived. One to the Order. One to Ginny.
The Shrieking Shack. 3am. Don’t get caught. H
One minute felt like a lifetime. Twelve hours felt eternity.
Ten to three, Ginny would come soon.
He mustn’t have heard the faint creak of her footsteps. Her eyes fixated on his dark figure as his shoulders rose and fell with each breath he took.
Harry glanced at his watch. 3:00. His brows furrowed as he contemplated the endless possibilities. Anything could have happened and it would be because of him.
She caught his eyes in her reflection on the mirror. And then they were two people, staring into the depths of each other’s eyes.
Her fiery red hair cascaded down her shoulder, a waterfall framing her face. “Ginny…”
She ran to him, locking her arms around his neck, she pressed her face into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. One hand rested on her back, the other entwined in her hair.
She gazed up at him, unable to tare her eyes away from his. “I would slap you if I didn’t want to kiss you so much.”
He smiled; it was a smile that reached his eyes. “And you have every right.”
So he kissed her, no lack of certainty. They pressed their foreheads together.
“Where have you been?” She whispered pleading.
“I promise to tell you everything, but afterwards, when the war is finished.”
“Harry you can’t know for certain whether–”
“I do. This is it Ginny. This is the beginning of the end.”