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Author: Jai-kun Story: Neither Can Live Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-DH Status: Completed Reviews: 6 Words: 23,072
The rest of the day passed in such a flurry of activity that Harry, later, could not sort one event from the other until after the wedding. The only thing to stand out was a very loud argument in French. Fleur's mother could not seem to understand why the wedding had to be held at the Burrow, and was, by all accounts, rather abusive toward the home and the family that comprised it. Fleur had got so angry at one point that, as she tossed her nearly white-blonde hair, Harry could have sworn that feathers floated to the ground. The row calmed down only after Fleur's mother swept away in a dignified huff, and Bill whisked Fleur into the house to cool down. In the end, Mrs. Weasley was inexplicably more cheerful, but still quite frantic to get the wedding preparations just so. Harry's mind soon became a blur as he helped raise the canopy, set chairs around the garden, and generally help out. To anyone else, this might have been an imposition. To Harry, he found it a good distraction against the flashes of long red hair at his peripheral vision, flashes that always seemed to disappear whenever he tried to catch better sight of them. The work was physically tasking, but mentally he could let his mind wander, and he threw it to the thought that had been lingering on the edge of his consciousness since he'd first stepped foot back in Privet drive. There was something to it, he felt, something that would become a great help in his fight against Voldemort, something that would even be an advantage. So he drew upon his mental faculties to find the thought, remember it clearly once and for all. As he did so, his mind wandered more than ever. Remembering the looks on Ron's and Hermione's faces when he told them he would not need them to come to the Dursleys' with him, since he wouldn't be staying overlong. Remembering Charlie's friendly concern about him and Ginny, remembering the dream of that morning, and the warmth it caused in his belly when he was awake. Annoyed, he pushed these thoughts of friendship and happy times away, trying desperately to grab onto that thought. They seemed to be preventing him from catching it, however, and the poor last gnome he found had traveled quite a distance in his frustration. Finally, there was nothing left to do other than get ready for the wedding, and he found that he had a sense of trepidation at the prospect of witnessing this happy time. In the bathroom, futilely combing his hair, the feeling that he had was out of place in this happy home once again overcame him. He closed his eyes, breathing in deeply; he could simply leave now. Apparate away and get on with his quest, finish things once and for all. By the time they realized he was gone, it would be too late to follow him, and they would be safe. He looked into the mirror, looking into his own face and hating what he saw. The mirror whispered, "She's waiting, you know.”. After a moment, he set his comb down, straightened his robes, and sighed; one more time with this family, one more normal, happy occasion. One more chance to see Ginny… He glared defiantly at the mirror, daring himself to force the thought away, then nodded when he didn't and left the restroom. * * * * * Bad idea, this was a bad idea. Why did I think this obviously bad idea was ever a good idea? Harry fumed at himself as he the wedding wound on. He did not mind that the ceremony was rather long, nor was it tedious. It was a pretty thing to watch, and the center of the ceremony, Bill and Fleur, were radiant in their happiness. It didn't even bother him that Gabrielle blushed as she passed his seat. It was that Ginny was there. And she was beautiful. And he could not take his eyes off of her. The words washed over Harry, unheeded, unheard, bringing mental images that he found himself clinging to: his mother and father standing together, hand in hand, facing each other with bright smiles, Sirius standing by their side. How had it been for them, to marry in a time of war, to know that the greatest Dark Lord of an age was out there, and that the future was bleak, and to still want to share each other's lives? He found himself, to his shame, vaguely jealous of his own parents, who allowed themselves that. His jaw clenched as his eyes rested on Ginny, who was in turn watching her brother. A lone tear tracked down her face, and Harry had to look down. He couldn't do it. He wasn't brave enough to risk her, to risk anyone. It would kill him to hear that she was hurt or killed simply because she was attached to him. The thought that plagued him all summer buzzed in the back of his mind, but he was sick of the mental chase. He thought, instead, of his friends, and how close he was to losing them all. He then made a decision. He would leave after the party, alone, and hope, when it was over, that Ron, Hermione, and Ginny would forgive him eventually. He closed his eyes, once again seeing his parents standing together. He willed the image to blur, to fade, but as they did he could have sworn that, somehow, they also changed, that the green and brown eyes changed places for a split second until it was gone. * * * * * Harry had congratulated Bill and Fleur, with a kiss to both cheeks for his troubles, when it happened. A space had been cleared in the garden and a wooden floor had been conjured up for dancing. Bill and Fleur were in the center, looking into each other's eyes as slow music changed from one song to another. They gave no sign of noticing. Molly's voice behind him startled him, "Harry, be a luv and dance, won't you?" He turned, putting on a smile until he caught sight of the partner Mrs. Weasley was holding. Ginny wouldn't even look him in the eye. Silence stretched for nearly a minute, with Ginny glaring at the ground and Molly looking at him, pleadingly. Finally, he nodded, "All right." Molly's smile was brilliant, and she moved them to the dance floor and let them go. Ginny's eyes were pinned on Harry's shoulder, her jaw set in much the same way Harry's had been before. The music was slow, and despite his shaking hands, it felt nice to touch Ginny again. They rocked together, slowly, in time with the music, both of them doing their best to avoid looking into the eyes of the other. "You don't have to do this you know,” Ginny whispered, her voice oddly strained. Harry did look down, then, to the top of her head. For the longest time, each individual hair captured his attention, before he managed to whisper, "I know. I... I wanted to." Ginny looked up, then, and it was like a jolt to Harry's chest. Her eyes were clear, but reddened a little. He could not, if she'd demanded it, look away. He wanted to lean down, then, and capture her lips with his, to pull her close and swear to bring down Voldemort himself, Horcruxes or no, if she would only smile for him again. He could feel his back bowing to kiss her, and could almost swear that she stretched up toward him. He hesitated. Ginny pulled away. "I can't. I'm sorry, I--" She stepped backward, her hand on her stomach, looking for the entire world as if she were about to be sick before she pushed her way across the floor. Harry didn't track her. He could only stare at the place she had been, his heart sinking. He'd almost failed her. He'd almost lost his resolve, and that was the most dangerous thing he could do. "'Arry?" Harry turned stiffly, blinking as Gabrielle Delacour's face looked up at him nervously. Her brow creased, and it occured to Harry that he must look particularly down. "If eet ees a bad time--" "No, Gabrielle." Harry smiled, or tried to, and he could see Gabrielle biting her lip. "What is it?" She paused, and it seemed she might have turned to go until she clenched a fist and straightened her shoulders, looking at Harry straight in the eye. "May I dance avec vo-- with you, 'Arry?" Harry looked back at her, blinking foolishly, watching her face redden as the song ended and a new one began. Another slow song, as most of them would probably be that night. He smiled, ruefully, and held out his hand. "Yes, Gabrielle, it would be my pleasure." * * * * * After two songs, both of which he spent with Gabrielle, Harry looked toward the fence. Hermione and Ron were waiting for him at the fence just beyond the dance floor. Ron, especially, gestured for him to join them, a cup in each hand, and Harry excused himself from a now happily smiling Gabrielle. "Harry," said Hermione as soon as he was close enough. "I saw what happened. With Ginny, I mean. I'm sorry." "I almost gave in." Even to his own ears, the words sounded grim, as if holding Ginny would have been the worst possible mistake. And it would be, if she were killed because of you, wouldn't it? Harry sighed and looked out past the fence. "Well, I think it's ridiculous," growled Ron. Harry turned toward him, blinking owlishly, and Hermione grabbed Ron's arm. "Ron, don't!' Ron gazed at Harry, then Hermione, and wilted. "It's just..." His tone broke, and he leaned against the fence, putting one large hand to his face. "I don't like seeing her like this." "I don't like doing this, Ron," spat Harry, suddenly furious. "I don't want any of this!" He gestured to the house, toward the party outside that was still full of chatter. "I want to go back there and enjoy it and not worry about how everyone I care about is in grave danger because some idiot decided a one-year-old boy was too much for him to handle!" Ron's ears were red. "Well, if you expect me to be happy watching my little sister--" he cut off, squeezing his eyes shut. "Oh bollocks," he growled and turned, flinging a hand out as if to knock away a Bludger, and stormed away. Harry made to follow, but Hermione grabbed his arm. "Harry, please don't." She looked at him imploringly "It's hard. Ginny's been... I know, Harry," she said, stopping his angry retort, "I know you're hurting, too, even if you won't say so. Just let me talk to him, OK?" Harry said nothing, but relaxed, and she patted his arm. "I'll be back. We'll be back. OK?" He nodded, and she went off to find him. Harry could see them ahead, speaking to each other, just along the fence, well out of earshot. He turned his attention to the party, watching Fleur and Bill, his face already scarred by the war, dancing, looking deep into each other's eyes. Bill's features were softened, and Fleur’s, when she spun into view, were rapt. Transfigured by their happiness, it was as if, to them, there was only each other and the music. Nearby, in a similar state, were the eldest Weasleys, Arthur and Molly, looking into each other's eyes as if it were the first day they had seen each other. Arthur's lips moved, and Molly blushed and hid her face in his shoulder. After a short time, she turned her head, resting her cheek against her husbands shoulder, eyes closed, smiling peacefully. Harry pulled his eyes away, only to find them resting on Hermione and Ron, his two best friends (of three), and watched as Hermione pulled Ron into her arms and rocked him, slowly, the smaller witch somehow comforting the taller wizard. A lump rose in Harry's throat, and he swallowed heavily. And then he made his decision. He made his way, as quietly as possible, to the house, smiling and nodding almost automatically. He avoided small talk as politely as possible where he could, politely excusing himself after a few moments where he couldn't. He was in the house and up the stairs faster than he anticipated. He opened his trunk and grabbed his broom, making a small bundle of his darkest clothing to take with him. Looking out the window one more time at the party below, he turned away, vowing in his heart of hearts that no one would pay for the fight he knew he had to fight. Harry moved as silently as possible down the dark stairwell, careful to avoid the squeaking step on the way. He silently opened the front door, stepped through, and closed it as quietly as he could. He was halfway down the path when he heard the voice behind him. "Running off then, Harry?" Harry turned, wand in hand, to find Ginny glaring at him from next to the door, where she had been leaning against the wall. She, too, had her wand in her hand, but it was not brought up defensively as Harry's was. "Put that thing down, Harry." She pushed off from the wall, looking slightly off balance. "Or do you fancy a bit of a duel?" She stumbled further from the wall, putting her wand up. Harry noticed the tip of it wobble. Harry's wand arm dropped to his side. The next words out of his mouth were possibly not advisable, but the sheer surprise of the situation caused him to blurt them out. "Ginny, are you drunk?!" "So what, " she hissed, narrowing her eyes. "My brother is marrying... he's... If I can't drink now, when could I?!" She wobbled and raised her wand again, pointing oddly to the left. "I'm not going to fight you, Ginny." "Oh no," she crowed, glaring daggers. "Wouldn't do to get beaten by a girl, now would it?" She narrowed her eyes, centering her wand on him with a sudden steadiness that almost made him bring his own wand back up. "Maybe it would knock a little sense into you. Show you that I'm not as helpless as you seem to think me..." Harry frowned, "I don't think you're helpless, Gi-" "You don't, do you?" She cut her hand across the air, a motion which made her stumble slightly. "'I can't be with you, Ginny, because the big bad heir of Slytherin might try to hurt your tiny, frail little red head!'" Her voice was high, nasally, mocking, and Harry's frown deepened. He opened his mouth to retort, but a different voice cut him off. "What's going on out here?" Harry and Ginny both spun, to see Ron and Hermione peering from around the corner. "We were looking for you, Harry," said Ron, looking both embarrassed and confused. "Where'd you go?" Harry began to answer, but Ginny cut him off with a glare in his direction. "Harry was just leaving, Ron. Seems I'm not the only one he thinks is helpless." Her mouth curled into a sneer. "Or maybe he just can't be bothered with anyone else." Ron looked surprised, gazing at Ginny, then at Harry. "You were going to leave?" Hermione's mouth was pressed into a thin line, and her eyes widened, a look of reproachful fear in them. "I don't think you lot are helpless!" Harry shouted furiously, both with Ginny's words and that his plans to leave quietly had fallen apart so completely. "It's just that... Look, Voldemort," Ron flinched and Hermione tutted, "isn't after any of you, he's after me! I don't want anyone to get hurt--" Ginny's wand pointed at him again, "How many times do I have to say it?! I'm not some helpless child; I can handle myself as well as any of you!" Ron, in the meantime, had also exploded, though his wand was still put away. "Hurt? What about you? We don't want you hurt, you great prat!" Harry looked between them, then at Hermione, imploringly. Her eyes were shining, and she said, in a soft voice, when Ginny and Ron had run out of steam enough for her to be heard, "I can't believe you don't believe in us, Harry." Somehow, that was worse than Ginny and Ron yelling at him. He gritted his teeth and ground out, closing his eyes, "It doesn't matter! I'm going, and I'm going alone!" He looked through reddening eyes. "You two deserve to be happy," he cried, motioned toward Ron and Hermione who were, indeed, holding hands as they stood squared off against him. "You deserve to spend time together, not to be traipsing off to who knows where and facing who knows what and possibly dying before you should!" He turned to Ginny, and his voice got quieter. "Ginny, I... I don't want you to have to... I don't want to lose you." He felt his eyes getting hot. "I couldn't bear it, if something happened to you because of me... Please, understand." "I understand all right," Ginny hissed. "I understand that you'll take them, but you'll leave me behind, again. I understand that you'd rather be with a French strumpet like Gabrielle than with me!" All conversation stopped. Ron made a choking sound, and Hermione whispered, slightly mortified, "Oh, Ginny..." "What," Ginny growled and looked between the three of them, eyes narrowed. "What're you gawking about?! I saw it!" Harry sighed, closed his eyes, and said, as calmly as he could, "Ginny... Gabrielle is twelve... she's no threat to you, she never could be." Instead of having a calming effect, his words had quite the opposite. Ginny's face crumpled, and she thrust her wand at him and screeched, "Erumpo chiroptera! Nothing happened. It was as if, instead of the expected results, Ginny had instead stopped time. Ron, Hermione, and Harry were quite still, staring at the end of Ginny's wand, which, despite the fact that she had cast the Bat-Bogey Hex to great effect many times, hadn't even released a spark. Ginny's lip trembled, and she began to pant. Shaking her wand experimentally twice more and still producing nothing, she looked at Harry, her face a mask of despair, and ran off, toward the woods and out of sight. Hermione's voice was soft, as if she still could not believe it. "She shouldn't be alone." "She'll be all right," Ron said, sounding bewildered. "She needs time, is all... still, that's never happened before..." Harry stared at the spot where Ginny had gone out of sight, his mind working. In all the time he'd known her, Ginny had never failed to cast a spell that he'd ever seen. His concern was interrupted by Ron's hand on Harry's shoulder. The grip was tight, and Harry could tell the only thing reigning in Ron's temper was what had just happened with Ginny. Hermione, beside him again, also regarded him with fierce eyes. "Now let's get one thing straight," Ron growled in a voice that brooked no argument. "We told you we were coming with you, and damned if we won't. If you try to leave without us, we'll find you." "But--" Ron tightened his grip. "All that rubbish you said about not dying before we had time, Harry? Well, we feel the same about you! Don't you get it?" He squeezed harder, and even shook him a bit. "Quit acting like you're alone, because you're not, understand?" Harry looked at Ron, and then at Hermione, whose eyes were narrowed, daring him to refute them. Finally, his shoulders slumped. "If you two die, don't come crying to me." He smiled, but his eyes ached and his heart trembled with terror. Hermione reached forward and gripped his hand, smiling sadly. "I didn't get saved from a troll just to have you rid of me that easily." Ron's face was still stony, but he had let go of Harry's shoulder, which had been going numb. "Think about what I said," he muttered, looking toward the trees where Ginny had run. Harry's eyes followed Ron's. "Is she going to be OK? Should we look for her?" Hermione's voice was watery, but Ron shook his head. "What could possibly go wrong here?" A/N: It's FINALLY complete! Many thanks to my loverly pre-betas, Tzigane, Kimiko, and Oklina for encouragement, support, and chairs to the back of the head to get me moving. Also, many thanks to Tanaxanth, who keeps me in line when all I want to do is push the story out and let you see it with commas willy nilly (yes, that's a word!). Thank you for your patience. The incantation for the Bat-Bogey Hex is not mine. I borrowed it, with permission, from Starsea, who wrote/is writing a wonderful story called Watching for Wolves at the Sugar Quill.
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