PhoenixSong.net :: A Harry/Ginny Fanfic and Fanart Archive

Author: legobean

Story: Harry Potter and the Toll of Destiny

Part: 14: Twas the Night Before Christmas

Rating: Teens

Status: WIP

Warning: Sexual Situation

Reviews: 20

Words: 10,854

Updated: October 6, 2007, 5:41pm

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14: Twas the Night Before Christmas

Disclaimer: I'm starting a new club. It's the I Don't Own Harry Potter Club. The great news that everyone can be in it! Well, everyone except J.K. Rowling. That's right Jo, you're not invited, Ha! You'll just have to console yourself with your millions of dollars. The rest of you can be in my new club, because you, just like me, don't own the rights to Harry Potter. And you, just like me, aren't making a profit from this story. Announcements on the first meeting are T.B.D. Until then, enjoy this new chapter of my very unprofitable story!

Sunday morning dawned and Harry awoke with nervous energy. Ginny had returned the previous night, but she had not spoken to him. He had been in his room with the door closed, but he had known when she arrived and heard her come up the stairs. He had expected her to knock on his door, but the knock had never come. He had wanted to go and apologize but found the words lacking. Besides, he didn't really know what he was sorry for. He wasn't sorry she hadn't been able to risk her life in the war. He wasn't sorry that she hadn't seen the horrible things he'd seen. He wasn't sorry for not imposing his depressing presence on her in the years after the war. The only thing he was really sorry for was that the experience had hurt her so much. But, as everyone kept reminding him, he shouldn't apologize for the war; it wasn't his fault. Well, not exactly his fault, but he had played his part in it.

As he lay in bed trying to figure out what to say, he heard her make her way to the loo. Her quiet footfalls on the hardwood were almost unperceivable compared to the obnoxious noise her bothers all made when moving about the house. Bill and Fleur would be coming today and so would George. Gorge was going to be sharing his room, while Ron and Hermione stayed in Ron's attic abode. The kids would all be sleeping in a magical tent in the attic that he and Mr. Weasley had managed to get put up and properly arranged the previous evening. Fred was spending Christmas morning with Katie and her father and would be coming over in the evening for dinner.

If Harry didn't talk to Ginny soon, the house would be full, and he didn't know when he would be able to manage it. He decided he would give it a shot after breakfast and see if he could get her alone.

***

After breakfast, Ginny found herself assigned the task of hanging the garland and fairy lights in the sitting room. She got this task every year, and she had come to dread it. It always reminded her of just how alone she was. Decorating the tree was a fun task, because they did it as a family. It had become even more fun in later years. Now that all the kids were qualified wizards they would take turns trying to transfigure the most elaborate ornaments. She smirked to herself as she thought about what Harry might be able to actually do if he wanted to show off.

She wasn't exactly sure what to think about Harry at the moment. She knew he was trying to share with her yesterday when he showed her that awful memory. He didn't understand that seeing it invoked the terrible feeling of loneliness that she had felt her whole sixth and seventh years. The Quidditch final had been her last game, and futilely, pointlessly, they had won. They had won the cup while all the people who really mattered to her were off fighting a war. She had poured her soul into playing a game, while Harry was supposedly pouring his soul into fighting evil. Except actually he wasn't fighting evil, he had been at the bloody game, and instead of making her year and celebrating with her, he had pretended to be Ron.

She giggled a bit, as she thought about having to test and see if it was really Ron from now on whenever he caught a bug that made his voice sound funny. What she really wanted, what she longed for was to be with Harry again. To have control of his heart again, the way she once had briefly. It had taken the death of his mentor to wrestle it away from her last time, and she vowed if she got possession of it again, she would not let it go.

It had taken months back in school, the little glances shared between them when Dean wasn't looking for her, to know he had become interested. She thought it was something else at first. She had been so blatantly obvious about her feelings for so long and Harry had ignored her, that when she started to catch him staring at her, she thought she must have sprouted horns or something. It was weird, really. The moment they had shared the Easter eggs in the library was the first time she had any hint that Harry saw her as more than just a housemate, or worse, a sister. He had run his hand absently over hers in the library, as she suggested that he use Fred and George as a distraction to talk to Sirius. She had shrugged it off as her imagination, even though her skin tingled where he'd touched her for two days afterwards.

After that moment in the library he actually started listening to her, valuing her input even. It was almost like her prayers had finally been answered. He was treating her almost as an equal. He even let her talk him into accompanying him to the Department of Mysteries. She knew she was glad she had gone, but looking back and seeing the memory of Harry's face when he realized she'd been hurt was dreadful. It was like someone had stolen his best friend. She hadn't been that surprised. Harry always cared a little too deeply about his friends and not enough for himself. Whatever she thought Harry may have been feeling in that moment was wiped completely from him by the death of Sirius. Sirius's death had brought the return of brooding, angry Harry. That Harry that thought he was too dangerous to be around people, and that Harry always seemed to be getting crushed by the weight of the world.

She and Michael had broken up by then, and she was glad of it, because it meant that if Harry had been feeling something she could act freely on it, but when they returned to school all the walls were back in place. Ron had teased her and Harry on the way home from school that year about getting together. It was her most ardent desire, and she was shocked to learn, it really was what Ron wanted as well. It was his rather boorish attempt at matchmaking. He'd been so angry when she announced her intention to accept Dean's affection, but she needed someone and the list of candidates was short. She'd needed someone who told her she was pretty, and smart and that she mattered. Harry wasn't qualified, even if he felt those things, he'd been incapable of reasonable conversation after their terrible adventure.

So she'd dated Dean. He was nice mostly. A little on the handsy side for her taste, but oh the sensations in her body seemed to make her forget. She certainly never complained. It made her forget many things those first few times. He was seventeen, and he'd told her he was in love with her. It was a sentiment she had been unable to return despite her best efforts. She assumed a little exploration of her anatomy was probably natural. It felt incredible at times, but it never excited her, it never made her need more, it always made her wonder if it shouldn't be just a little better. What really made her excited was catching Harry watching her. More and more during her fifth year, she found Harry's eyes resting on her, sometimes absently, sometimes intently watching her, but like never before he always knew she was there. It was a problem, really. She was trying to study for her OWLs, she already had a very affectionate boyfriend she was constantly trying to fend off, or at least pretending to, and she didn't need Harry distracting her. So, she'd conducted a test, and placed herself and Dean in a shortcut she had followed Harry through several times on the way back from Quidditch practice. She had stopped Dean and pulled him into the secluded corridor, and she had kissed him fiercely. The look on Harry's face when he and Ron had found them told her what she needed to know. She had to find a way to dump Dean Thomas, and fast! Unfortunately, she had inadvertently thrown a huge wrench into Ron and Hermione's relationship.

Dumping Dean had proven to be more difficult than she had anticipated. He really had been an excellent boyfriend, and he had done nothing to warrant her breaking it off. She and Harry had spent a wonderful Christmas here that had nearly killed her because she was still with Dean, and three separate times she had thought Harry was going to make a move, and would have if she'd been available. So she'd gone ahead and ditched Dean because, of all things, he'd tried to help her through the portrait hole. It had to have been the worst most transparent excuse ever, but she needed out. Then, when it finally happened with Harry, it was amazing. There had never even been any words between them. It had just happened, she looked into his eyes and she knew he belonged to her. She had attacked him coming through the portrait hole after the Quidditch final, and he somehow knew it was time. The kiss was like nothing she had ever felt before. She'd kissed a lot of boys by then. Dean, Michael, Neville, just a peck on the cheek, but it was the first time she'd ever tried kissing a boy. Heck, she had even swapped saliva with Martin Andrews, but Hufflepuffs were definitely not her type. Whatever had made her think that was a good idea, she'd never quite managed to work out. Somehow Martin never made the list when she was engaged in girl talk with Luna.

The next Christmas decorating session had been hell. Pure hell, she had thought when she and Harry got together that she had found her soul-mate, not that he had exactly been missing. She had known his approximate location for most of the previous six years, but still, once they were together she assumed it would be a permanent arrangement. It hadn't really been work, but she endeavored to make their time together so wonderful that Harry couldn't bear to be without her. Then that greasy bastard killed Dumbledore, and Harry had slipped through her fingers. She had been so angry. At first she wasn't so much angry with Harry as with dark wizards everywhere, but then she'd found out how much of an arse Harry intended to be in their breakup. He wasn't just not going to snog her anymore, he wasn't just not going to hold her hand in public, he was actually going pretend she didn't exist for the rest of the war. Harry didn't talk to her, he didn't write to her, he even went so far as to ask her family not to talk to her about him. She'd had to nearly castrate Fred to get that little tidbit of information.

Then at Christmas, an unmarked package had arrived for her. She was obviously suspicious at first. It wasn't a good time to be accepting gifts from strangers. Since she was unable to detect anything wrong with it, she'd had her dad inspect it. He declared it free of curses, so she opened it to find a beautiful onyx and amethyst ring set in a silver band. With it had been a note.

Sorry I can't be there. I hope someday I make it up to you.

H.

That was it, that was the whole note. She recognized the handwriting, it was clearly from Harry. She'd thought about the ring all day, tucked tightly in her pocket. Then after her parents had gone to bed, she'd pulled it back out and looked at it again and cried. She hadn't heard anything about Harry since August, and on Christmas Day he had sent her fourteen words. It had been enough, an apology and a promise. It wasn't until after she'd put it on that she had sorted out that the ring was enchanted. It wasn't until much later that she had worked out what it actually did.

She didn't realize how close she'd been to crying until Harry walked into the room and said something. "What was that?" she asked, keeping her face turned away from him.

"This looks amazing, Ginny. You are really terrific at this."

"Oh, yes, well, lots of time to practice. I'm sorry; I'll be back in a minute." She kept her head down as she pushed past him and stumbled up the stairs. She hadn't really had a single truly happy Christmas with no regrets since she was nine. Everyone had been home, and they hadn't yet met the Boy-Who-Lived. Somehow, Harry always seemed to enjoy Christmas no matter what. Someday she would have to ask him his secret, because she used to really love Christmas. It took her over an hour to compose herself, before she came back down to help her mother prepare lunch and promised to bake some Christmas biscuits after lunch.

When the biscuits were finished, she had started to help her mum with dinner preparations. They would be having goose tomorrow so tonight they were having lasagna, salad, two types of vegetables, and chocolate pudding.

As she was stirring the pudding, Harry came in and gave her a pained look, but she ignored it as best she could and soon he was gone helping the four blondes in the family up the stairs with their luggage, while Bill piled packages around the Christmas tree. It had been decided this year that presents would be opened around the tree, as there were too many grandchildren about to make sure the presents were properly delivered and not fought over.

So it was that they had sat down for dinner, with Harry and Ginny sitting next to each other. The room had been expanded and so had the table, but it was still a tight squeeze and Ginny was trying her best to keep her leg from being pressed up against Harry's. It was entirely too distracting. The family talked idly about anything and everything. The five children had bombarded Harry with questions about whether the various rumors they had heard about him were true. Some of them were, some of them weren't, but all of them embarrassed Harry. He had almost completely withdrawn from the conversation around the table, before her mum had threatened to send the children to bed without pudding if they didn't stop. George took up the gauntlet at that point and told them tale after tale of Harry's heroics, some more true than others, until George suddenly got a very bad cramp in his leg and was forced to leave the table.

After the plates were cleared and cleaned they gathered around the Christmas tree to listen to the wireless. Celestina Warbeck was warbling as Fleur pantomimed to the song lyrics, as had become her holiday tradition.

Hermione dragged Ginny bodily into a corner and whispered fiercely, "What is wrong with you and Harry?"

"I'm just having a hard time with him at the moment. He showed me that horrible memory yesterday, and I don't know, it's just hard being reminded that he was intentionally excluding me from his life," Ginny replied quietly.

"Ginny, you have to get past this if you want to be with Harry. He loved you, and he needed to protect you."

"It's just so hard. Knowing that he doesn't trust me to take care of myself the way he trusted you and Ron."

"That isn't what he was doing. We all served a purpose in the war, Ginny. Especially you; haven't you figured that out yet?"

"What are you talking about? They wouldn't let me do anything," Ginny said a little too loudly causing several people to turn her way.

After they had gone back to whatever each of them were doing. Hermione whispered, "Don't let this linger. You need to talk to him."

The concert ended shortly after that, and they broke out the decorations. They put the family favorites on the tree, and then they each sat down with an ornament in front of them to Transfigure. The children all picked an adult to help them with their idea since they couldn't do the magic themselves. Each of the children instantly picked Harry, but Chantelle, being the youngest, got the honor.

Ron went first and Transfigured his ornament into a tiny hippogriff that snapped at your fingers if you got closer than the very end of its hanger. Arthur went next and made a Muggle fire engine with working lights and a siren that was eventually silenced, as it was quite annoying, but the children all thought it was brilliant. Bill went next and turned his into a Sphinx that would occasionally roar at people as they walked by the tree. He hung it too close to Ron's hippogriff, and they fought briefly before being separated. Next it was Juliet's turn and, with her mother's help, they soon had a bright white Abraxan flying at the end of a tether. They continued all around the room until it was George's turn. He made a glass ball in which different Weasley Wizardly Wizbangs kept going off. Chantelle was next. She whispered her idea to Harry, who shook his head. Chantelle looked disappointed as she whispered something else, and Harry turned bright red but nodded. He waved his wand around for a few seconds and whispered a complicated string of syllables, and the ornament grew into a slightly larger glass ball and filled halfway with water. Three towers with what appeared to be grandstands popped up in the water, and while they watched, a miniature re-enactment of Harry rescuing Gabrielle and Ron from the lake during the Triwizard Tournament appeared. The three teens were dragged out of the lake and the tiny blonde form of Fleur kissed the tiny black-haired Harry on the cheek. And the scene reset and repeated.

"Wicked!" exclaimed Ron.

"Ah, 'arry! It is magnifique! She makes Gabrielle tell that story every time she comes to visit. Eet is her favorite." Fleur gave a startled Harry a tight hug and told Chantelle. "What do you say to 'arry?"

Chantelle motioned for Harry to bend down so she could hug him and whispered. "Thank you, Mr. Potter. It's perfect."

"You can call me Harry. We're friends now, right?" Harry asked the tiny blonde girl.

Chantelle looked ecstatic in her joy. "Yes, of course, Harry. Thank you!"

"Why don't you try, Uncle 'arry?" Fleur asked her.

"Uncle Harry," Chantelle repeated automatically.

Harry nodded at Fleur. "Thanks, but that isn't necessary. Just Harry will be fine." He bent down to Chantelle. "Why don't you go put that on the tree?"

"Non," Fleur answered. "One way or anozure we are not letting you out of the family." She cast a meaningful glance at Ginny before she went over and sat back next to Bill.

Chantelle went over and placed her ornament on the tree, giving the hippogriff a wide berth, and then instead of returning to where she had been sitting on the floor, wandered over and crawled into Harry's lap. There were several knowing smiles around the room that disconcerted Harry before Arthur announced, "Harry, why don't you do yours next? I don't think anybody wants to try and follow that."

Harry waved his hand and conjured a glass bubble, and then he closed his eyes and concentrated for a moment. The bubble flashed white, then red, then green, and then went clear. Harry looked at it, and then asked Chantelle to go put it on the tree.

The minute she picked it up, the air inside swirled into a mist and an image full of lights appeared. She immediately started giggling.

"What is it, Chantelle?" Bill asked.

"It is our parlor. I can see our tree and Gigi," she answered.

"Let me see," Bill asked.

She obediently took him the glass ball, but when he touched it the image swirled and changed. He frowned at it. "It's the Burrow, and we're all here," he said waving his hand and watching himself wave back inside the bubble. "What does it do, Harry?"

"It shows the exact room that the holder associates with their childhood Christmases as it looks currently, unless the room has changed too much or changed owners," Harry explained. "That's why it doesn't work for me; I don't have a place in mind."

"Why not?" Harry Weasley asked.

"I didn't celebrate Christmas until the age of eleven," Harry responded.

Ginny's heart clenched in her chest. How could somebody who could make something so wonderful and perfect have had such a dark childhood? The familiar anger she felt whenever she heard anything about Harry's childhood returned, and she instantly felt the need to protect him.

"You never had presents?" the young Harry and James coursed in unison.

"We've talked about this," Hermione answered them in a reprimanding tone. "Harry was an orphan. You know that. We're his family." The two boys knew better than to continue the conversation once their mother used that tone, and Ginny saw Harry shoot Hermione a grateful smile. The two boys did drop the subject, and the small globe continued through the group.

Hermione gasped when it was her turn to hold it. "How could you do this, Harry? You've never been to my parents' house."

"It doesn't use my magic; it uses the magic of the holder to create the image. I only used my magic to create the device."

"But you could use this to spy on anyone. I mean, I see my parents."

"Yes, well, technically you could if you knew how to make one. But certain types of wards can block it. But, you can get the same effect from a crystal ball, you know, if you believe in that sort of magic." Harry shot Hermione a crooked grin.

Ginny and Ron both snickered.

"But you have to be a Seer," Hermione protested.

"Oh, well then congratulations, Hermione; you're a Seer," Harry teased and the room broke into giggles as she frowned at him.

"To my wife, the Seer!" Ron cheered.

Chantelle rescued the ornament from Hermione turning it back into her own parlor and hung it on the tree. "Hello, Gigi." She waved and then wandered back to Harry's lap. She snuggled into him, and he put his arms somewhat awkwardly around her.

The decorating continued until everyone had their turn. Chantelle had quickly fallen asleep nestled in Harry's arms. Fleur had come to take her, but as she was already in her jammies Harry offered to take her up to where the kids were staying.

"I think you've made a new friend, Uncle 'arry," Fleur said teasingly.

"Really, Harry will be just fine," Harry replied, his discomfort plain to see.

"We shall see, won't we?" Fleur smirked and gave him a wink. She leaned down bussing both her daughter and her friend on the cheek . "Happy Christmas, 'arry."

"Happy Christmas, Fleur."

After Fleur went up to bed, Ginny watched him. Something in her stomach knotted as she looked at the young girl Harry cradled in his arms. Some irresistible force was flashing images of little red-headed girls with green eyes in front of her, and as hard as she tried to make them go away, the images became clearer.

George stood up and announced, "Well, roomy, don't say out too late. I want some pillow talk." George winked at Ginny, and then turned to share a look with Harry.

Ginny walked over to him. Perhaps it was time to offer an olive branch. "Is it possible to be jealous of a three-year-old?" she whispered.

Harry nodded. "Sure, if they're Weasleys. These kids have a great life. I really tried to find time to talk to you today, but it was impossible. I have something for you, and I want to give it to you now, because I don't want it to get lost in everything tomorrow." Harry gently adjusted Chantelle in his arms so he could fish an envelope out of his robes.

Harry handed Ginny the red envelope with her name on it surrounded by a large heart made up of much smaller hearts. Her heart thudded viciously in her chest as she took the envelope. Harry got up from the couch, cradling the young girl in his arms and whispered, "Happy Christmas, Ginny."

She wanted to respond, but her voice was caught in her throat and letter was burning her hand. Harry walked out of the room and headed upstairs to deliver Chantelle to her bed. She stood silently for a moment while he retreated and then flew to the couch to tear open the envelope. Her heart sank as she saw the front of the card was emblazoned only with the words 'Happy Christmas'. However, once she opened the card her heart swelled as several pages fell out, filled with Harry's messy scrawl.

Ginny,

I'm not quite sure what's wrong with me, I don't know why I ruin everything. However, the problems between us are not your fault, they're mine. I know you think I abandoned you during the war, and while I didn't get to see you much or spend time with you, I want you to understand why I needed things the way they were.

I didn't have a happy childhood. It was miserable for the most part, but I survived. I never had any real friends or even knew what a companion was until I found out I was a wizard when I was eleven. It wasn't terribly easy for me to make friends. Most people were scared of me, or only wanted to be around me because I was famous. There were exceptions though, and I had the two best friends I could ever ask for to teach me the value of friendship.

Many people came into my life after that, and I came to value all of them in their own way. For someone who spent the first eleven years feeling like they had been abandoned and forgotten, it was difficult dealing with all the new people who genuinely cared about me. I had no way of dealing with the emotions brought on by the casual acceptance of my first friend's family. They provided me with my first Christmas presents, my first experience of the interaction of brothers and sisters, and most memorably, my first hug. The first person who ever hugged me was your mum, after your brothers rescued me from Privet Drive, knowing full well they would get in trouble. It was a very confusing summer for me; I couldn't understand how your mum could be so nice and care so much about me, when she didn't even know me. I had almost an entire family treating me like I was an equal; the only exceptions were Percy, and you.

I am truly sorry that I lacked the capacity to understand your feelings when we met for the second time. Had I known, I would have tried harder to make an effort to reach out to you. But I couldn't understand how anyone could feel intimidated by me, and even though Fred and George told me you had a crush on me, I really didn't understand what that meant. I wish I could have made you feel more comfortable around me, so that we could have been friends. I know now that I missed out in taking so long to get to know you.

The events later that year shook me more than I've ever admitted. It was a bad year for me. Since I didn't really know you, I didn't recognize the signs of what was happening to you. I was focused on myself and feeling sorry for myself, because everyone thought I was a crazed maniac intent on killing my friends. I should have found a way to help you sooner. When Riddle took you into the Chamber, I felt like I had lost something, but I didn't recognize it for what it was until later. Someone was hurting a member of my family. It was my first experience with that feeling, and that, more than anything, led me down to find you. When I learned that I was the cause of the attack on you, the guilt crushed me. I spent that summer alone, a grim reminder of my past life. I felt I had screwed up so badly that the only real family I had ever known would not want me around.

However, when the summer ended, things finally improved. In fact, it probably turned out to be probably the single best year of my life. I finally figured out what really happened to my parents. I found out that I had a godfather and made friends with one of my parents' other best friends. I know plenty of bad things happened my third year, but nothing could compare to the hope I felt after I found out the truth about Sirius. I hardly remember you from third year. I felt that you probably hated me over the whole Chamber of Secrets mess. Frankly, I wouldn't have blamed you, since Voldemort used you to get to me. I was happy that Ron and I were still friends, but thought the rest of you would never forgive me, an attitude that Percy made abundantly clear was rooted in reality.

Then the oddest thing happened, your family insisted that I come with them to the Quidditch World Cup. I know they were polite to me at Diagon Alley, but really didn't expect that I would ever get invited back to the Burrow for an extended stay again. It was such an amazing relief to find that all of you had moved past the business with the Chamber. I remember nearly everything about that first night back at the Burrow. Meeting Bill and Charlie for the first time, the table fight, but also how you smiled and blushed at me. You didn't run away, you treated me like I was normal. That is the first memory I have of you acting like yourself around me. There isn't a specific moment that made it special really, but it's one of my favorites.

Fourth year was a terrible time for me. The whole tournament was a fiasco, really. I had to come to terms with the realization that Ron and I might not always be friends. It was a terrifying time. Hermione has said that you were frustrated because I didn't notice you. I did notice you. Your quiet confidence that I would succeed in every task gave me strength. Very few people believed that I was a good enough wizard to make it through the tournament, but you never wavered in your support. It meant a lot to me. Alternatively, when I needed a date to the Yule Ball, I did not ask you. It was in no way intended as a slight, I thought long and hard about asking you, but I think if I had it would have made it worse. You were the sister of three of my very best friends. I would have asked you only as a friend, because I didn't really know you very well, and I wouldn't have assumed you'd be interested in anything else. I would not have tried to be more than friends with you, until I thought your brothers approved, and I think this would have only hurt you more. Going to the ball with me as a friend would have also been a disaster, because I was a terrible date. I wasn't ready for that experience, and unfortunately, Parvati, who has been a very good friend to me over the years, paid the price and had a terrible time. I am still embarrassed over my behavior, but I really didn't understand what the ball meant to you or to her.

Things started changing in the way I thought of you during my fifth year. I finally got to spend more time with you and saw what a wonderful friend you are. I was honestly shocked to learn that you had 'given up' on me. I was just coming to terms with what it actually meant to have a crush on someone. Unfortunately, the object of my crush was the wrong choice. I couldn't give Cho what she needed, and honestly she didn't have what it would have taken to stand beside me. I liked her, but it didn't matter, the relationship was doomed on so many levels. I got my first glimpses of a person I really wanted to know better at Christmas when you came to make me stop brooding, and at Easter when you helped me with my desire to talk to Sirius without prying into why. I didn't realize how much my feelings for you were changing until you were injured in the Department of Mysteries. It was just your ankle, but it hurt me as much as the injuries to Ron and Hermione. You had put yourself at risk for me, and you had been injured. I think I would have realized how much your getting hurt bothered me and why, if it hadn't been for Sirius's death. After that, it was hard to think of anything but how alone I once again found myself.

I never thanked any of you for your help in the Department of Mysteries, or for helping me deal with Sirius's death. I know I'm awful to be around when I'm grieving, but thank you for being there for me.

I don't know if you know this or not, we never talked about it, but Hermione is pretty perceptive and she may have told you. I was jealous of Dean Thomas. Bitterly jealous. Every time I saw the two of you together, I wanted to hit him. It was torture watching the two of you together. The day we stumbled across you in the hallway, I was glad Ron yelled, because if he hadn't, I probably would have said something I would have later regretted. When you did break it off with Dean, I had no clue what to say to you. I had no idea how Ron was going to react, and I was scared. To this day I have no idea what happened after the Quidditch final. I know I had never wanted anything more than I wanted to kiss you, and it was like I pulled you to me. It's slightly embarrassing to write this, but it was probably the greatest moment of my life. I had never felt what I felt in that moment before, and I have never felt it since.

It's the cycle of my life however, that whenever things go well, something bad happens to ruin it. My three weeks with you at Hogwarts were the happiest times I can remember. It was a moment out of someone else's life. The feelings I had were completely foreign to me. When Dumbledore was killed on the Astronomy Tower, I kept thinking one thought the whole time: Please let us both get out of this so that I can see Ginny again. My guilt when he died but I lived was overwhelming, even now it eats at me. In a moment of danger, I was afraid of dying. That had never happened to me before. I've long accepted that it is my fate to die. I strove to stay alive long enough to kill Voldemort. It was my sole focus after Sirius's death, and before you came along. Being with you had made me want to live, even more than I wanted to win. It was dangerous to the entire wizarding world and extremely unfair to you. If I lost my nerve and ran away from the fight with Voldemort, you would have had to live in a world of tyranny, and you would have been in love with a coward. I couldn't let that happen. So, I broke off our relationship. Not because I wanted to, but because I had to. I had to go and face Voldemort, and I had to be willing to die when the time came.

Every day after I left you, I faced another bleak depressing day of war. I watched my friends die. I watched allies lose hope and switch sides. I don't remember all of it yet, but in the few memories I do have, I saw horrors I can't even describe. Only one thing drove me to finish it in the end. I wanted you to live in a world without Voldemort. I needed you to survive the war, so that when he was gone you could have a life. It was what I thought about when I tried to shake the horrors in my mind to try to get to sleep. It was what made me get out of bed in the morning. If I stopped, you could never be free. If you had been allowed to fight beside me and been killed, I'm not sure I could have gone on. If Voldemort somehow figured out that it was that easy, your life would have been forfeit, and that's why I never wrote, and why I forced you to stay away completely.

You asked me to write you a card and tell you what you meant to me. I defeated the most evil wizard in history, and I did it almost entirely for you. Yes, I wanted vengeance for my loved ones he had already killed. Vengeance has always burned within me when I've fought Voldemort, and I've no doubt that when we finally had it out, I felt the anguish of everyone I've lost. But every day when I woke up and looked for a reason to keep fighting, vengeance isn't what gave me the will to keep going. The reason I had to win, the reason I worked as hard as I could, was Ginny Weasley.

I know you hated not being a more active part of the war. I am very sorry that it hurt you, but I will not apologize for making sure you survived the war. Better warriors than you died in the battles of this war. It had to be for something. When it was over there had to be someone I loved left unspoiled by the filth of war. If I had been killed in the final battle and taken Voldemort with me, I would have at least known I had made the world safe for you.

That, Ginny Weasley, is some small part of what you mean to me.

Happy Christmas,

Harry

***

Harry marveled at a child's ability to be picked up, carried up three flights of stairs, held in one hand while he transformed her bed and placed her into it without waking up. Harry woke ready for battle when the floorboards creaked outside his room. He wished at some point in his life that he had trusted the world so much to sleep so soundly. Easy sleep was a luxury he'd wished immensely that he'd known, but in the dark, when you close your eyes, is the time that memories get their revenge. He'd been watching Cedric die in his dreams for twelve years now, Sirius for eleven and Dumbledore for ten. It didn't even bother him when he woke up from those nightmares anymore. But one had been bothering him for the last month and it was making sleep difficult. Lately when he tried to sleep, he saw the falling form of Charlie Weasley, and himself striking down a row of Death Eaters while cradling Charlie's body. Hermione had not yet given him back the memory of Charlie's death, so he did not know if it was real. But it felt real every night for the last ten nights in a row. Very real.

It was with much trepidation that Harry finished brushing his teeth and stepped into the room he was sharing with George.

"Harry! I thought you weren't going to make it. Snogging my little sister, were you?" George asked as he shot him his best impression of the evil eye.

"Hardly," Harry laughed, "I was tucking in your niece."

"Not to criticize, Harry, but isn't she just a wee bit young for you?" George raised an eyebrow at Harry.

"She's three," Harry said disgustedly. "And we're just friends."

"Uh-huh. Careful with that one, Harry; she's part Veela, you know." George snickered.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Didn't you hear? Veela charm doesn't work on me."

"Yes, I did hear. What about red-head charm? Isn't that what Potters are famously susceptible to? How are things between you and my darling sister anyway?" George asked.

"Muddled," Harry answered.

"What's the problem? You don't fancy her anymore?" George asked in what ended up being a very accusatory tone.

"It's not that. We just have a lot of baggage between us now." Harry didn't really want to talk about this with George, but he also really didn't want to go to sleep very badly, and at least it was a distraction.

"What kind of baggage can you really have? She's wanted you to come back ever since you left."

"I think that's part of it. She waited a long time to have her conquering hero return, but I'm a bit of a disappointment as heroes go. She resents the fact that I didn't want her fighting beside me. And, even if that wasn't an issue, I don't know if she should be spending her time around me anyway. I'm not the person I used to be."

"Yes, you are a real disappointment in the hero department. Good heroes allow their friends to use them for publicity. What do you mean you're not the person you used to be? You are the same Harry Potter that killed the Basilisk and saved our dear sister aren't you?"

"Not really."

George looked at him like he had a third ear growing out of his forehead. He flicked his wand at Harry and muttered, "Levicorpus."

Harry was jerked out of his bed and was hanging by his ankle. "George? What do you think you're doing?"

"I have received recent intelligence that you are not the real Harry Potter. I have captured a fraud. Now tell me, what have you done with the real Harry before this gets messy?" George demanded.

"Knock it off," Harry suggested firmly, as he muttered the counter-curse and crashed head first into the bed.

"Well, if you're not Harry Potter, then who the hell are you?"

"I'm still Harry, I've just seen things I shouldn't have seen, and done things I shouldn't have done," Harry explained. "Nox," he muttered, turning out the light, and rolled over on his bed to face away from George.

"Harry," George said patiently. "We all did things in the war we would have preferred not to have had to. We all saw things we didn't want to see. We all wish it hadn't been necessary. I personally am glad we had you, because I suspect all of us Weasleys would be dead if it weren't for you." When Harry didn't answer, he continued. "Don't make Ginny pay because you think she deserves someone better. She wants you."

The room was quiet for a few minutes. "Although, personally, I think you should come down to the beach resort with me. You and I could do pretty well strolling along the beach. With my good looks and your fame, we could clean up."

"George."

"Yes, Harry?"

"Don't make me curse you."

"Night, Harry."

"Good night, George."

***

Ginny had been lying on the couch crying for forty-five minutes before she finally decided to move. They weren't tears of sadness. They were the tears of someone who had been loved too much all at once and couldn't take it anymore. She felt awful and vile, and so completely warm and excited all over. How could she have ever been mad at Harry for leaving her behind at Hogwarts? Why had she spent the last nine years being angry that he forced her to stay out of the war? It suddenly seemed so stupid and petty and immature that she had wanted Harry to want her fighting at his side. His words had cut her and healed her while she had read them. She realized that she had been unfair to him pretty much the entire time she had known him. Of course he didn't know what her crush had meant; he'd spent his whole life with Muggles who hated him. He hadn't known love, or blind affection, or even infatuation. If Ginny had hated him and hit him and starved him, he would have understood her perfectly, but love, childish and silly or perfect and true, was beyond his comprehension. Why hadn't she got that before?

Ginny jumped off the couch. She suddenly very badly needed to see Harry, but she couldn't let him see her like this. First, she needed to clean herself up, and then she was in terrible need of a wardrobe change. Unfortunately, none of the clothes she'd brought with her were going to do the trick. She didn't really have anything at home either, but she would make do with what she had. Ginny walked out the front door and Apparated back to Ron and Hermione's. Racing up stairs, she pushed her way to the back of her wardrobe where she kept her most intimate outfits. At the very back was the only real piece of lingerie she owned. It really seemed a needless commodity, being that she hadn't had a boyfriend in nine years, and now that the moment was here, she found her wardrobe lacking the tools she needed. She grabbed the silk chemise off the hanger and hoped that it was shorter and sexier than she remembered. She went to the top drawer of her dresser and dug to the back until she found what she was looking for. She'd always had a pair of knickers that were "the pair" she was going to be wearing if she ever decided to let a man -- she giggled -- to let Harry,get far enough to actually see them. She quickly stripped out of her clothes, wishing she had time for a shower, and put on the "the pair." They were unique, mostly in that they were practically non-existent. She tossed her bra on the floor and slipped the chemise over her head. It wasn't perfect, but unless she wanted to Transfigure it, it would have to do, and she really didn't have the time. It was late and she needed to get Harry out of his room as soon as possible. She didn't want him to be too far asleep when she woke him. She went to the bathroom and almost started crying again when she saw her face, her makeup was absolutely ruined. She quickly cleaned the makeup off her face, and went to work reapplying only what she needed for tonight. She brushed her hair as quickly as she possibly could, grabbed a dressing gown and headed back down stairs. She could not believe she was going to Apparate like this, it would be so embarrassing if she got Splinched, but oh, the sacrifices one makes when they are in love, and desperately in need of kissing and hopefully groping.

Ginny Apparated into her bedroom at the Burrow, and took a few seconds to catch her breath and to relax her features into an expression that didn't look like she had just spent the last twenty minutes running around like a mad woman. The door squeaked slightly as she pushed it open and walked as quietly as she could over to Harry's room and knocked gently on the door. Frustratingly, there was no answer. Harry slept as light as a feather unless he was having a nightmare. Why did he have to pick tonight to be a sound sleeper? He probably couldn't hear a thing over George's snoring; it sounded like there was a very large drain sucking a very small amount of water in the next room. She sighed and turned the knob gently and pushed the door open. Ginny crept in as quietly as she could and put a hand on Harry's shoulder. She squeaked as Harry grabbed her wrist and threw her on the bed with his elbow across her throat. It took him only a second to recognize that she was not a threat, and he moved his elbow whispering, "Ginny, what the hell...?"

"Late night sexcapades, you two?" George asked from across the room.

"Shut up, George, I just needed to talk to Harry for a few minutes," Ginny explained to both of them, feeling her cheeks heating from the obviousness of her intent.

"Uh- huh, just try to keep it quiet. Harry, you dog," George muttered. "I almost believed you."

"It isn't like that," Harry replied crossly. "What's up, Ginny?" He looked rather pale and shaken in the small beam of light streaming from the door. She wasn't sure if he had been that surprised or if he wasn't feeling well. Her concern ran quite deep, but she needed to get him out of earshot of her brother.

"Can you come downstairs for a few minutes? I need to talk to you."

"Uh, sure, Ginny. Give me a minute. I need to grab some trousers; I'll meet you downstairs."

"Just grab a dressing gown, and let's go."

"Don't have one. Just give me a minute."

"How can you not have a dressing gown? How do you go to the bathroom at night?"

"Well, generally there aren't women on this floor, so it's not a problem," Harry whispered.

"Oh, all right. Don't be long," Ginny muttered. She instantly vowed to spend more time patrolling the Burrow's hallways at night, as she made her way into the hallway.

***

To say Harry was surprised to wake up with his elbow across the throat of Ginny was an understatement. He sincerely hoped he hadn't hurt her. That was all he needed, to start adding physical damage to the emotional damage he had already inflicted. He sighed as he fished around for his jeans in the dark. He finally found them and pulled them on. He stumbled around looking for his shirt and put that on too.

He was creeping towards the door when he heard George say, "Be careful with her, Harry. She'd have to be pretty upset to come in here and wake you at this hour."

"Then why were you teasing her?" Harry asked, slightly perturbed.

"Hi, I'm George Weasley, it's nice to meet you. You must be Harry Potter. Harry, you should know I tease people. It's not so much a hobby as a state of being."

"Thanks, that's very helpful."

"You're welcome. Don't do anything Fred and Katie would do."

"What's that leave?"

"Sitting and talking quietly, while fully clothed."

Harry snorted. "Don't worry. She wasn't even talking to me earlier. I suspect she wants to yell at me some more."

"Oh, fun."

"Night, George."

"Don't be out late; I want to snuggle in the morning."

"Ew," Harry answered as he closed the door.

Harry expected to find Ginny already downstairs, so he was surprised when she grabbed his hand and started tugging him toward the stairs. He followed willingly, waiting for an explanation until they were farther away from George and the room that Bill and Fleur were sharing. "What's up?" Harry asked, as she tugged him into the sitting room.

"It's about your letter, we need to clear a few things up," she answered primly.

Oh, boy, Harry thought. Another one of these 'discussions' and on Christmas Eve. Why couldn't he ever seem to get these things right?

Ginny stopped suddenly as they entered the sitting room and turned to face him. She didn't say anything but she looked at him with expectation in her eyes. Harry wasn't sure exactly what it was she was expecting so he tried to get a clue. "Um, so what did you want to talk about?"

Ginny didn't answer, but she undid the knot holding her robe closed and shrugged it off, tossing it over her dad's chair. She took a single finger and pointed straight up. Harry's eyes, however, were broken; he couldn't seem to follow her finger as he gazed upon her bare shoulders and the plunging neckline of her gown. He knew eventually he would need to breathe again, or the beautiful vision in front of him would fade as he passed out, but he wasn't quite sure how he would ever manage it. He gaped at her in the lights from the Christmas tree. She was wearing an emerald green chemise that, while it wasn't showing Harry any part of her that he hadn't seen before, was making it impossible to stop staring.

After a moment, Ginny repeated the motion with her hand, pointing to the ceiling, and Harry reluctantly tore his eyes away from her freckled chest and looked up. She was standing directly under the mistletoe. Harry really thought that this would be a good time to say something witty or clever; unfortunately, although his heart was hammering thunderously in his chest, none of the blood seemed to be making it to his brain. He wanted so badly to be able to think, and act like a goddess wasn't standing partially-clothed in front of him, but it wasn't working. The third time Ginny motioned towards the ceiling and giggled, Harry's muscles finally started to work again, although they felt like they were made of half-dry cement. He reached his hands down and put them on her waist, becoming instantly aware of just how thin the material of the flimsy piece of clothing really was, and how chilly her skin felt though it. He brought his mouth down to hers as quickly as he could as she tilted her head back expectantly. Their lips brushed together gently as Ginny's hands wound around the back of his head. She ran her fingers through his hair and gripped him insistently. The kiss maintained its innocence only for a moment and Ginny's mouth opened slightly and her tongue darted out and tempted Harry's lips. As if by their own will, his lips separated, and her tongue found its partner and began to dance. Back and forth the two tongues danced from his mouth to hers. Harry instinctively wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly as the kiss continued, seemingly without an end in sight. They had kissed before, many times, but the only one that had ever felt anything like this was the first one in the cabin, when she had demanded it.

Again she seemed to be the one demanding, and Harry decided that he needed to take more authority in their kissing, and he pulled her body up his until her feet could barely touch the ground. He sought to dominate her tongue and sucked on it as it once again made its way inside his mouth. Ginny moaned in response to Harry's sudden aggression and moved to wrap her legs around Harry's body. He was keenly aware of the problem as soon as she started the move, and that more than anything what drove him to put her back on the floor and break the kiss. She whimpered slightly and attempted to pull his mouth back down to hers as he pulled away.

"Ginny, you needed to talk to me?" Harry panted.

"I don't need to talk; I just need more kissing," she purred.

"Ginny, you look incredible, but I can feel everything through that -- that -- whatever it is," Harry pleaded.

"That's kind of the point, silly boy." She pushed him backwards until he fell onto the couch and she straddled his legs as she rose up and once again started firing kisses against his lips. He could feel the pressure of her against his chest and legs and it felt delicious. He wanted to run his hands all over her body, but he knew he shouldn't. It wasn't right what they were doing. If Mr. and Mrs. Weasley caught them like this, the way they had caught them a few nights ago, they would be much less forgiving. Just in case, he gathered his wits long enough to put a sound barrier between the floors. "Good idea," Ginny moaned as she grabbed his face and wrenched his jaw open once again, using her tongue to find his, and challenging it to duel. They kissed freely, and Harry was keenly aware that Ginny was grinding her body against his, it felt heavenly. He was lost in this ecstasy until Ginny grabbed his shirt tail and started to pull it up.

"What are you doing?"

"We need fewer clothes," she insisted as she tugged at his shirt without his cooperation.

"I don't think that's a good idea," Harry moaned back.

"Who asked you?" Ginny retorted, tugging insistently on his t-shirt.

"Ginny."

"Oh, God, I love it when you moan my name. Do it again." She whimpered as she wriggled on his lap and ran her hands over the part of his chest she had managed to expose.

"Please, stop," Harry begged.

"Stop? Why would you want to stop? This is wonderful."

"But we're in your parents' house, and there are a ton of people here, and we need to talk about things, and if you keep doing that I might never be able to stop," Harry said the last part very fast as he lost control of his voice.

"Oh, incentive," Ginny giggled as she bucked against him again, now fully straddling his lap. She gasped a bit as she felt his need rub against her.

Harry couldn't take anymore; he needed them to stop so he could think. He knew this was a bad idea, but it was impossible to argue with her while she was doing that. Grabbing her by the bottom, he forcefully slid her off of him, both of them gasping as Harry's hands made contact with the bare flesh of her bum.

"Why are you doing this, Harry?" Ginny pouted as he stood up.

"That's what I was going to ask you," Harry replied.

"I thought my reasons were pretty clear. Did you misunderstand something about the outfit, the midnight visit to your room, and the kissing?"

Harry winced as she said it. She was making this extremely difficult. "Ginny, it's amazing, but this is too fast."

Ginny gave a bark of a laugh. "Too fast for me, or too fast for you?"

"Too fast for us!"

"Why don't you come back down here, and we'll see. I thought we were doing fine."

"Ginny, this morning you wouldn't even talk to me, now you're acting like we've been lovers for ages. Help me understand where this is coming from."

"This morning I was mad at you for not understanding my feelings. Tonight you gave me the second-best Christmas present I've ever received and explained why you pushed me away during the war. Merlin, Harry, what you said in your letter was so beautiful, and I don't want to waste time anymore, I just want you."

Harry attacked her on the couch, his self restraint gone at her words, she wanted him, and she had forgiven him at least a little. His mind was consumed only by Ginny as he kneeled on the floor with both her legs wrapped around him as he kissed her fiercely. They were lost in their passion as if the world might end tomorrow, and this could be their only chance. Ginny had successfully wrestled Harry's shirt from him, and was whimpering slightly as his hand worked it way up her leg and under the hem of her chemise, when once again he froze. She writhed against him frantically, trying to get his mind to shut off again, and to get his hands restarted, but it was no use. He stopped and pulled back again.

"I think we should go bed," Harry declared.

Ginny grinned widely. "Really?"

"No, I mean we should each go to our own beds."

Her face fell once again. "That's a terrible idea."

"It's late, and we need to cool off." Truthfully, Harry felt he was taking advantage of her. They didn't have the whole story of his past back yet and she deserved to know the whole thing before they went too far.

"I don't want to cool off. I've never been this aroused in my whole life," Ginny pleaded.

"Why are you making this so hard? I'm trying to be a gentleman."

"I've never felt this connected to you, Harry. I think we should take advantage of it, that's all."

She had said the two words that she would not be able to work her way past. As soon as she said them she seemed to realize she had doomed her prospects. "I mean, I want to stay this connected to you. I don't want to go back to yesterday. If you had explained what was in your card the minute you got back, I would have jumped you then too. Please don't take this night from me. I'm having the best Christmas ever."

"Ginny, I want to be with you forever. But I think we should figure out just why I'm a lunatic, before we do anything we can't take back."

Ginny face was an odd mixture of rage and glee. Tears started flowing out of her eyes, and she choked. "Don't talk about yourself that way. You are not crazy."

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you, but I did spend a long time wandering around crying and doing nothing. I seemed pretty crazy."

"Stop it! I'm not crying about that. You said you wanted to be with me forever; I'm happy. Quit ruining it!"

"Sorry." He knelt before her and put his forehead on hers, and she sighed contently as she wrapped her arms around his neck. They kissed again, but while passionate, it was without the fire they had felt before.

"Are you sure you won't come to bed with me? I promise I'll behave." She grinned wickedly at him.

"Come on, I'll tuck you in," he said as he cancelled the silencing spell and put his arm under her legs and she giggled a bit as he carried her unsteadily up the stairs.

He plopped her down in her bed, but as he pulled her covers up her, she asked, "Go pull my nightgown out of the bottom drawer please."

"I thought this was a nightgown?"

"It is," Ginny giggled. "But the girls are going to come charging in here as soon as they are allowed, and if I am wearing this, there will be questions I don't want to answer, especially since nothing happened."

Harry retrieved her nightgown and handed to her. He kissed her on the forehead and made for the door, but she grabbed his wrist. "You are not excused."

"Yes, ma'am." Harry looked at her inquisitively. She started to pull the hem of her chemise up, and Harry quickly turned around and faced the opposite wall.

"Oh, please, Mr. Noble. I know you want to look." She huffed. "I swear nobody is ever going to see these knickers but me. They cost me two Galleons! I bought them in France," she explained indignantly.

The sound of Ginny wrestling into her nightgown just a few feet away and nothing between them nearly drove Harry mad. "Are you decent?" Harry asked weakly when the rustling stopped.

"Yes, of course."

Harry leaned down just above her. "You are the most beautiful and amazing woman, and this has been my best Christmas, too." He gave her a deep kiss, and she only grabbed onto him for a moment when he tried to pull away.

"Happy Christmas, Ginny."

"Happy Christmas, Harry."

Harry made his way back to his room. As he dropped onto his bed exhilarated but exhausted, George asked, "Did you behave yourself?"

"You have no idea."

George snickered, and they both drifted back to sleep, George far more quickly than Harry.

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