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Author: rich.sanidad Story: One Blink Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-DH Status: Completed Warning: Character's Death, Extreme Language Reviews: 7 Words: 56,312
Once the car carrying his relatives was out of sight, Harry turned away from the window, still shocked that Dudley, of all people, had bid him a proper goodbye. He was not particularly surprised at Uncle Vernon’s laughable attempt at a farewell, and he was not even disappointed in his Aunt Petunia’s indecision and eventual refusal to acknowledge he was her sister’s son, but his cousin’s apparent change of heart was something else altogether. Time would tell if he would ever get a chance to see if it amounted to anything. Harry shook his head and ran down to the sitting room. There was a time when he enjoyed being here alone, revelling in the freedom of being able to do things the Dursleys prohibited him from enjoying. Knowing he was about to leave the house, never to return, he had the notion that he should have felt wistful or philosophical about his departure. But the truth was that he felt nothing of the sort. Actually, he barely felt anything at all towards the house. He could just as easily have been standing in a pub somewhere and he would have felt the same as he did now, eager to see his friends and get on with planning the Horcrux hunt. He knew Hermione had a much better head for this sort of thing, but he had been unable to sit idle during his stay. The Dursleys had ignored him since he arrived, leaving him to suffer alone with his thoughts—thoughts he’d put in a Pensieve, if he could. His memories of Dumbledore’s death left him depressed and numb. It was almost like kneeling by his beloved headmaster’s body all over again, but without Luna to save him from his inertia. Whenever he finally shook himself out of it, he would look at the clock on the wall and find that perhaps an hour or more had passed. But that wasn’t the worst of it. He could not think of Dumbledore without thinking of Bill as well. And when he did, he would find himself reliving the funeral in his mind, watching his adopted family mourn the loss of one of their own. Guilt would squeeze his heart, adding to the great burden he already carried. Inevitably, the vision of the funeral would fade, to be replaced by the only memory that haunted him even worse than that of Dumbledore’s death. He may have been closer to the headmaster than to Bill, but he was even closer to Ron and Ginny. It was torture to find himself in the hospital wing again, frozen in place, letting Ginny’s sobs wash over him, weakening his knees with each mournful sound. And when the memory ended, he would find himself drenched in sweat and breathing heavily. It was after these episodes when he was at his most determined, when he would try to make some progress on how to attack the Horcrux quest, driven to find a way to finish it before anyone else died. If he were to be honest with himself, he did not hold out much hope of getting it done quickly enough for that to happen, but he tried not to think about it if he could help it. He was tired of letting his depression weigh him down. He wanted to act. It had not taken him long to pack the items he thought he would need the most in a rucksack. In addition to some necessities, he had packed his Invisibility Cloak, the Marauder’s Map, the fake locket, and a shard of glass from the mirror Sirius had given him. But perhaps most importantly, there were also four rolls of parchment upon which he had scribbled notes for finding each of the missing Horcruxes. The notes mainly consisted of guesses and speculation, but it made him feel as if he was really doing something, rather than wasting time while waiting for this day to come. He could not wait to review his ideas with Hermione, but first he needed Moody to collect him. As if on cue, there was a knock at the door. Harry hurried over and threw it open to find that Moody had brought company. The old Auror had also brought Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, Mr. Weasley, Tonks, Remus, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Fred, George and Mundungus Fletcher. After explaining to Harry how Pius Thicknesse had effectively blocked most magical forms of transportation for taking Harry away from Privet Drive, it had taken them over ten minutes to get him to acquiesce to the decoy plan and donate some hairs for their Polyjuice Potion. “I still say this is madness,” said Harry. He crossed his arms and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen as his friends began donning different clothes to accommodate his likeness. “It’s not like we’ve got a choice, Potter,” said Moody. “It would be even better if we had at least one more decoy, but...” “But what?” Everyone looked around furtively, trying to not make eye contact with anyone else. “What happened?” demanded Harry. “Did someone get hurt?” “Quite the contrary,” said one of the twins. Harry thought it might be Fred, but he could not be sure, especially now that the Polyjuice Potion had completed his transformation. “Thanks to Fleur...” began George. “... there are two less Death Eaters for us to worry about,” finished Fred. “I don’t understand,” said Harry. “Fleur’s gone... rogue,” said one of his doppelgangers that he thought was Hermione. Harry furrowed his brow in confusion, and Hermione continued in response. “No one’s been able to make contact with her since the funeral. But we’ve been discovering evidence of unprovoked attacks against Death Eaters, for which the Order is not responsible, all over the country.” “And you think Fleur is involved?” Harry asked incredulously. He could not seem to reconcile his memory of the dainty bride-to-be from last summer with the image of a reckless witch, attacking wizards in black robes. “How do you even know it’s her?” Hermione tried to speak, but could not seem to find the words. Ron stepped up and took her hand gently. Seeing him hold hands with himself was creepy, and he fervently hoped he would never see such a sappy look on his face again. “There was a message on the wall of the house where we found the bodies,” said Ron. “It was written with the Death Eaters’ blood.” Harry was horrified, and he took no effort to hide it. But his curiosity compelled him to find out more. “What did the message say?” “It said... ‘For Bill.’” * Harry exhaled tiredly, watched his breath collect on the window and then disappear. He stared blankly into the garden from the sitting room at the Burrow, not wanting to believe the words he had just heard. Although it was only hours ago that Harry had been looking out the upper window of number four Privet Drive, it felt like much, much longer. “Harry?” He turned to see Hermione, still dressed in clothes that were now too large for her, leading Ron to where he was standing. “Are you all right?” she asked cautiously. Harry could only shake his head and return to his silent vigil. His “rescue” had been an unmitigated disaster. He and Hagrid had barely made it to the safety of the protection surrounding the Tonks’s house, escaping over half a dozen Death Eaters and Voldemort himself, who apparently had the ability to fly without a broom. Once they arrived at The Burrow via Portkey, they soon discovered that some of the others had not been as lucky as them. George had lost his left ear to a Dark curse—probably Sectumsempra—and by some odd twist of fate Fred had lost his right one. George had the worse time of it, however, as Remus had been struck by an unknown curse, forcing George to fly them both home on one broom. He was not quite sure how he made it to their safehouse without further injury, but for the moment, everyone was willing to accept the miracle at face value. And then there was Moody... whose fate had caused Harry’s current state of depression. It was very difficult to accept that he was actually gone. The grumpy old Auror was such a survivor, for lack of a better term. If people like him could not survive this war, what chance did everyone else have? Kingsley Shacklebolt’s voice brought Harry’s attention back to the gathering’s conversation. “Moody was right—we needed more decoys. I still don’t know how George was able to outfly seven of them with Remus slung over his broom. Blast Delacour! I told you we should ha—” “Leave her alone,” said Harry’s unexpected voice. His tone was unnervingly calm. Kingsley turned to face him, surprise clearly etched on his face. Mr. Weasley and the twins turned to him as well. Ron and Hermione, who were holding hands on the couch, shared a look but said nothing. Ginny looked away, biting her bottom lip. “It’s bad enough we had to put as many people as we did in harm’s way,” said Harry. “What difference would one more decoy have really made? Mundungus still would have done a runner, leaving Moody to fend for himself. Another decoy would have been just another person—no, another two people—who could have been killed.” Harry turned back to look out the window. A few moments later, he was surprised to feel a hand rest on his shoulder. He was even more surprised when he discovered that it belonged to Kingsley. “I’m sorry, Harry. I didn’t mean to upset you. But Dumbledore gave explicit instructions on ensuring your safety. Just because he’s gone does not mean we’re going to shirk our duty.” He then offered his other hand with a weak smile. Harry took the offered hand firmly. “I can understand that,” he said sincerely. Satisfied that everything with Harry was settled, Kingsley turned to the others and said, “I’m going to check with Molly and Tonks on Remus’s condition, and then I had better get going. I need to do a quick search for Moody’s body before returning to the Ministry.” Mr. Weasley nodded grimly and followed his fellow Order member to the door to show him out. Everyone seemed to deflate where they were sitting, save Harry who was as tense as ever at his self-appointed post by the window. “So... how did you escape?” said Fred, turning to George. George exhaled and shook his head. “Don’t know... I guess I got lucky with which Death Eaters happened to chase after us. Unless...” He turned to Hermione. “Does the Imperius Curse affect one’s ability to fly?” Hermione’s mouth formed a small frown as she pondered the question. “I honestly don’t know,” she said after a few moments, “but I’m reasonably sure it didn’t help their flying abilities.” “There you are,” said Fred. “Karma finally smiled on him for bestowing upon me his share of luck with the ladies.” “Git,” said George. “I’ll have you know that several of Gryffindor’s finest happen to think quite highly of my romantic abilities.” “Name one.” “Well, there was that one bird after the Yule Ball.” “Doesn’t count.” “Why not?” “If you didn’t even know who she was, how do you know she didn’t just think you were me?” “Believe me, she knew.” Fred rolled his eyes, as did Hermione and Ginny. “That reminds me,” said Fred, “Mum’s going to be able to tell us apart now. Wearing each other’s Christmas jumpers won’t be enough anymore.” “We could make some new ears to cover the holes,” offered George. Fred brightened up at the thought. “Yeah... we could use the same stuff we used to make the Extendable Ears.” “Brilliant!” said George. “The new ones might help us hear all sorts of things...” “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” “Let’s take the other ones off!” “A quick Diffindo should do the tr—” “Stop it! Stop it! STOP IT!” The twins followed the source of the interruption and saw Harry slumped against the wall. His shoulders were moving up and down, a sign that he was breathing hard. They were about to say something, but were stopped by Ginny’s seething glare. “What’s going on?” said their father as he re-entered the room. “I heard shouting.” Fred and George avoided making eye contact. Ginny tipped her head in Harry’s direction. Arthur’s heart felt heavy as he crossed the room. “Harry?” “I... I’m sorry, Mr. Weasley... for everything.” The Weasley patriarch placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder to try and calm him. It may as well have been an anvil for the weight of the burden that he was feeling at the moment. “No one blames you, lad...” Mr. Weasley said softly, “... for anything.” Harry shut his eyes tightly. Inside him, a battle raged between his feelings of unworthiness for the Weasleys’ kindness and the knowledge of his true role in the war, bestowed upon him by the prophecy. He nearly revealed the contents of the prophecy and his mission of the Horcruxes several times over. It felt wrong that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley could not know exactly why their family had to sacrifice death and mutilation for the greater good. The room was dead silent for several minutes. Even Fred and George recognised the gravity of the situation and retired to the kitchen lest they say something else to upset their friend. Harry might have stayed as he was the entire night, had it not been for Ginny, who had cautiously approached him and taken his hand into both of hers. Mr. Weasley looked kindly upon his daughter, and went upstairs to see if his wife needed any help with Remus’s injuries. When he finally noticed what she had done, Harry’s eyes stared at their hands for a few moments before lifting up to look at her eyes. The brilliant green that Ginny had grown to love seemed to have been replaced by a dull green-grey. She could have drowned in the sorrow and self-loathing she saw in his eyes. With gentle pressure, she pulled him from the window to sit with her on the loveseat next to the one occupied by Ron and Hermione. As they stared at the fire, everyone seemed to recognise that words no longer had a place in their world that evening. * It took a few days for things to settle down at The Burrow, but even then, Harry could not help but feel ashamed every time he looked at either of the twins. Although they did their best to reassure him that they bore no ill will towards him, their trademark humour could not overcome his guilt over the fact that the Weasleys had been harmed once again because of him. And although they had received word that Remus would make a full recovery, Harry was now too deep into his guilt to be easily swayed by frivolous humour or flippancy. Bill’s death continued to loom over the household like a dark cloud, and each day became a practised exercise in avoiding Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. Their behaviour towards him had not changed; they were still supportive and generous to a fault. But their eyes told a different story, especially Mrs. Weasley’s eyes. Her deepest fear had come true—and had nearly been repeated twice over during Harry’s rescue from Little Whinging—because of the prophecy. Harry just could not find the courage to make eye contact with either of them anymore. Today, however, he had the feeling that he was not going to have any say in the matter. He would just have to grin and bear it when they wished him a happy birthday. He sighed to himself as he neared the kitchen, futilely hoping that he would be able to just eat his breakfast and retreat to the paddock or some other place with little or no fanfare. His hopes were dashed when he turned the corner and saw a small pile of presents next to a plate full of toast and sausage. “Sleep well, Harry?” asked Mrs. Weasley. “Erm... yes, thanks.” Harry could not help but notice that her smile did not quite reach her eyes. “Arthur asked me to pass along his birthday wishes; he had to get to the office early today. We’ll wait for a few of the others to join us before doing presents, all right?” “Sounds great.” Harry forced a smile, hoping she would not notice how much effort it was costing him. He sat down and began munching on a piece of toast. “Happy Birthday, mate,” said Ron flopping into the chair next to him. “You could at least wait until his mouth wasn’t full of food,” commented Hermione as she took the seat across from her boyfriend. “I hope you have a wonderful birthday, as well, Harry.” Minding his manners, Harry waited until he had swallowed his toast before replying. “Thanks.... to both of you.” Hermione gave him a warm smile in appreciation as Ron devoured his third sausage. “Would you mind starting with the small box on top?” asked Mrs. Weasley as she cooked some eggs. “It’s from Arthur and me.” “Sure,” said Harry, although he would have rather not received a present from them. Nevertheless, he picked up the small box and opened it. Inside, he found a battered, gold watch. “It’s tradition for a wizard to receive a watch when he comes of age,” she explained. “That one belonged to my brother Fabian. We would have bought you a new one, but—” The rest of what she wanted to say was lost when Harry engulfed her in a warm embrace. Although he usually kept his emotions in check, it was quite difficult to do so at the moment. He did not know how he survived the Dursleys, who were polar opposites of the generous people in whose presence he now found himself. He tried to ignore the fact that he would be leaving them soon. “For once, it looks like Mum’s on the receiving end of one of her signature hugs,” said Ron. Harry smiled sheepishly at Mrs. Weasley as he released her. “Ignore him,” she said to him. “You’re family. It’s what we do for each other. All right?” He was spared from having to reply when he heard Ginny’s voice call to him from her bedroom. “Harry? Could you come in here a moment?” His stomach flipped at the sound of her voice. As much as he tried to tell himself that nothing was ever going to happen between them, he could not help the fact that part of him still very much wanted the opposite. Lately, he had spent almost as much time avoiding her as her parents to spare himself the torture of being so close to something he could never have. He could almost choke on the irony of it all. Not wanting to keep her waiting longer than necessary, Harry excused himself and cautiously made his way into her room. As he walked in, he mentally noted that for as much time as he had spent at the Burrow over the years, he had never been in there before. He was not surprised to see posters of the Weird Sisters and the Holyhead Harpies’ Gwenog Jones on the walls. If anything, he was surprised that there were not more Harpies posters up, given how well she held her own when arguing Quidditch with Ron. Across the room was a window overlooking the orchard, and underneath it was a desk. Ginny was leaning on the desk, looking outside. He paused when he reached the threshold of the doorway. He barely breathed as he took in the sight of her. She was wearing a simple but pretty summer dress, and her hair cascaded luxuriously down her back. He daydreamed for a moment about taking her into his arms and running his hands through her hair. But he quickly shook himself out of the dream, reminding himself of the need to rid the world of Voldemort as soon as possible. “You wanted to see me?” said Harry hesitantly. Ginny did not turn around. “I couldn’t think of what to get you...” “S’all right,” Harry mumbled. He shoved his hands into his pockets, and wondered why the tops of his trainers suddenly looked so interesting. “You didn’t have to get me anything.” “I was thinking,” she continued, ignoring his comment, “it shouldn’t be too large, so you can take it with you while you’re chasing after Tom.” Harry looked up and stared at her, trying to hold his composure. He supposed he could try to feign knowledge of what she was talking about... No, she deserved better than that. “Were we that obvious?” he said as he shook his head, mainly to himself. “Not necessarily. But I’ve become quite an accomplished Harry Potter observer over the years. I don’t think it was obvious to anyone else but me.” She turned and smiled warmly at him. Harry felt himself starting to melt inside, but he ignored it and returned to frowning at his shoes. He had the feeling he was not going to like where this conversation was going. He, Ron and Hermione had tried very hard to slip away as much as possible to discuss the Horcrux hunt without anyone noticing. Harry had always wondered if they were really being as sly as they thought they were. It seemed to him as if everyone knew, but no one wanted to talk about it. There were a few occasions when it seemed as if Mrs. Weasley was about to do something to keep them busy rather than allow them to meet, but then Ron would whisper something to her, causing her to shake her head and leave the room. Harry had yet to get a clear answer from Ron on what he was saying to his mum to keep her out of the way. Lost as he was in his thoughts, Harry did not notice that Ginny had crossed the room and was standing very close to him until it was too late. “So... about that gift,” she whispered. Her face was only a few inches from his, and her hands were on his chest. Harry suddenly had a very good idea of what his gift was going to be. His heart leapt at the thought of being able to fulfil the small daydream he had just had, but his mouth had other plans. “What about Dean?” Ginny leaned back and looked at him in confusion. She blinked a couple of times as she tried to clear her mind. “What are you talking about? Dean and I broke up months ago. I thought you were quite aware of that fact. Didn’t you notice how I spent less time with my friends and more with you and Ron and Hermione? Didn’t you notice how I always tried to wait until after Ron and Hermione had gone up to bed so we could be alone for a bit before going up to bed myself?” “But, I thought...” “Yes?” “Never mind... I guess it was a mistake.” Ginny’s eyes widened. “You were spying on us on the train!” “I-I wasn’t... spying.” Ginny said nothing, and her rising temper was bringing out her resemblance to her mother. Her hands were no longer on Harry’s chest, but on her hips. “What would you call it then? Observing? Eavesdropping?” “I-I was just walking by. I didn’t hear a thing.” “Obviously, or you would have known that there is nothing going on between Dean and me. We’re just friends.” “Friends?” Harry’s eyebrows disappeared under a few locks of hair as his eyes widened in surprise. Ginny saw a spark behind his eyes that she had not seen in a long time. “Yes. Friends. Do you have a problem with that?” she replied playfully, stepping towards him once again. “N-no... I...” The look of misery on Harry’s face as he looked away from her was troubling. He wanted this. She knew he wanted this. What was holding him back? “Harry, please look at me.” He said nothing, but tilted his face even more away from her. “Please...” she implored him. It was only a few seconds, but it felt like hours before he finally turned back to look at her. When she caught his eyes, Ginny felt her breath catch. Over the years, she had seen him frustrated and miserable, but never so desolate. “Don’t... don’t you want me to?” Ginny barely heard her own voice, for all the trouble she had getting the words out, afraid of what he was going to say. His eyes looked down at her lips, and when they came back to her eyes she saw longing now, as well as sadness. Without even thinking about it, she gently took his face in her hands and pulled him closer. Her heart began to beat faster as she closed her eyes... and kissed the corner of his mouth. Ginny pulled back, ready to round on him for turning away. “I’m sorry... I can’t.” “Why not?” she said, barely keeping her temper in check. “Because...” Ginny looked at him stoically, willing to wait as long as needed for him to explain. “Because I don’t want you waiting for someone who may never come back to you.” Harry had never been so open with his emotions and Ginny had to pause to gather her thoughts. Everything she had been worrying about since he had arrived at the Burrow was true. He was going after Voldemort. And he was not expecting to get through it alive. The thought that he would not make it was so unfair she had to bite the inside of her cheek to focus on something else. But then she saw her reflection in his glasses, and her trademark red locks reminded her of dear Bill. “Exactly,” she said firmly. “Don’t we deserve to grab some happiness while we still can?” She closed in on him again and placed her hand on his stomach. Harry reached up and lightly caressed the side of her face with the back of his fingers. She closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. “You deserve all the happiness in the world,” he whispered. He savoured being able to touch her so intimately, knowing he might never get the chance again. After a few moments, his voice came out even softer. “And you should find it with someone who’s going to live through this war.” Ginny opened her eyes and looked at him. She hated that she was causing him such misery, but she needed him to understand that she was not going to give up on him... on them. Harry stepped back and took her hands into his. He then brought them up to his face and kissed them gently, closing his eyes lest she see the wetness in them. And in that moment she fell in love with him all over again. No one else could have conveyed so much feeling—so much love—in such a simple kiss. Dean was right. It had always been Harry, and it always would be. She opened her mouth to say something but was interrupted by a knock on the door, which caused Harry to release her hands. Ron barged in without waiting for a response, followed by an apologetic looking Hermione. “There you are. Mum said that some of the Order have arrived for—” He paused when he finally noticed the sober looks on their faces. “What’s going on here?” “Nothing,” said Harry quietly. And he pushed his way past his friends to meet the guests downstairs. Behind him, Ginny had turned away from Ron and Hermione, who were starting to row, to look out the window. As she saw Harry exit the house to greet Remus and Tonks, she whispered quietly to herself so that no one could hear her. “Don’t worry, Bill. This isn’t over yet.” * Hours after everyone had departed, Harry sat on the ground just outside the back door of The Burrow. His arms were wrapped around his legs, and his chin was resting in the niche between his knees. He did not know how long he had been in this position, but he guessed it was probably too long. Finally succumbing to the evening’s chill, Harry rose from his post and put a hand against the outside wall. He waited a minute or two for the tingling sensation in his legs to stop before entering the house. Pausing only briefly at the landing outside of Ginny’s door, he climbed the stairs to the room he shared with Ron as quietly as possible. The decision he had just made weighed heavily on his heart, and he continued to turn it over in his mind with each step. It was only after he had already opened the bedroom door when he remembered that not everyone’s affairs of the heart were as difficult to manage as his. “Sorry to interrupt,” he said guiltily, as his two best friends jumped away from each other. “I-It’s all right,” stammered Hermione. “You weren’t interrupting anything.” Harry ignored their red faces and tousled clothes, and looked away to give them a few moments to gather themselves. When he looked back, they were sitting on the edge of Ron’s bed, looking at him eagerly. “What’s on your mind?” asked Hermione. Harry stared at the floor and took a deep breath. Finally, he looked back up at them and said, “We’re leaving.” “When?” asked Ron cautiously. “Tonight.”
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