I disclaim.
--
For Poets
Because only they truly know
the beauty in which the world
does not posses.
--
Author Notes: Hey everybody. I was going through my old journal type things (they weren't really diary-worthy, but they had have finished and stupid poems and things jotted down from fanfiction to remember and stuff), and I found a poem type thing that reminded me of a H/G relationship. Yeah. : Read on, if you will.
In my eyes,
You're the only one that matters.
You're all I need,
All I want,
even in tatters.
--
Ginny sighed, and looked out the window again. It was always raining lately, wasn't it? And Harry was off again, on some mission to save the whales...world, whatever. Ginny wasn't mad at him, per se, she just... missed him, entirely too much. And she wasn't usually so selfish, but...
Where was he, and why hasn't he written to her - at all?!
She wasn't mad at him, per se, she was just angry, and frustrated, and- and- and-
Ginny sighed again. Why was Harry such a good person? And Ron! How dare he just steal into the night, like an owl with a delivery! Hermione was gonna get it for letting them - and knowing her, probably giving a halfhearted attempt at stopping them, but actually agreeing with them - go. In the middle of the night. Ginny was one of the moderately well-tempered ones in the Weasley family, but then again, the whole family was mad at them!
Stupid hero Harry. Ginny frowned at the window when it fogged after a sigh. She leaned her head on the cold window. Stupid loyal Ron. Wouldn't it have been easier to just... leave when her family wasn't asleep? Stupid smart Hermione. But then she sighed a fourth time. Ginny had been awake when they left. Wide awake, and staring at this same window.
--
You're the only one that knows me,
The only one that sees.
What would I do without you?
--
She'd seen them quietly, slowly walk away from the Burrow, dreading what they had to do, but determined to do it all the same. Harry had closed the door, gently, glancing back at it, sadly, and closed his eyes briefly. Probably thinking about whatever they were going to do. Ginny thought bitterly. Why hadn't he told her? Why hadn't Ron told her? Hell, why hadn't Dumbledore told her? Maybe she would have known something about it. She'd known Voldemort when he was sixteen. She knew how he thought, what he was most likely to do - he'd become Voldemort before he was seventeen! It was his pseudonym, an anagram of his name, wasn't it? Ginny had had his soul poured into her. Well, not literally, but figuratively! And figurative language was highly becoming these days, so that had to count for something! Ginny was used to being left behind, but not this time. She just.. she just couldn't take it this time.
She'd had a taste of the- the- the freedom he gave her, the smirk that was hers, she had just- just- just let him go. Why did she let him go? What had been going through her head, anyway? Harry couldn't take me along, She thought slowly. He couldn't take me along because... because he wouldn't be able to concentrate... he'd be too worried about me. He couldn't take me along because... because he didn't want anything to happen to me... She closed her eyes, just as Harry'd done the night before. He knew she was awake when he left. He'd seen her in the window.
Harry had seen her, knew she was there. He had looked at her with those big emerald eyes, haunted by death, and about to be haunted by more experience and terror than anyone could have guessed. He had looked at her, and his eyes, his face, his body language had asked, "Wait for me?" And as he had looked at her, Ron said something. Harry looked over at him, and then back at Ginny, regretfully. He turned to leave. Ginny's eyes were wet, tired, and sad. But when he looked back at her, one last quick glance, her eyes looked horrible, and beautiful. But she was whispering something, something she knew he'd hear, even though he was ten yards below her, through a window. She whispered one word, and he heard it as clear as day.
"Always."
Harry smiled brilliantly, not thinking about the fact that he might not come back, and Ginny smiled back, knowing he needed all the good thoughts he could get.
He hadn't thought it then, but Ginny thought it now. He might never come back, and she might never see him again.
--
Who would we have been?
What would we do?
You're like an anchor, a pin
to hold me together.
--
Ginny let a tear slip out of her eye. She'd let him go, because he needed to go. She'd let him leave, because he needed to save the world. Ginny laughed, a tearful choke of a laugh, but a laugh all the same. She laughed because Harry would want her to be happy, Harry would want her to laugh, and Harry would need her to be happy when he came home. When he came home. He would be broken, he would be weak, and he would be exhausted, but he would be home. Harry needed her to laugh, because he wouldn't be able to. Harry needed her to be happy, because he would be hurt and unable. And she would. Because Harry needed her to. And if that's all that she could do to help him, then she would laugh to the best of her ability.
It would never get easier to accept that he might not be back. It would never get easier. But it would get easier to laugh. He wouldn't want to come home to a house that thought him a dead person. He wouldn't want to come home to a house that hailed him a savior. Even if he was. She would treat him as if he'd never been gone. As if he'd never saved everyone else's world. She would treat him as if he wasn't tired, and as if he wasn't delicate - because he wouldn't want to be - and as if he couldn't get dissuaded from being paranoid.
It would never get easier to accept that her brother wouldn't be the same. It would never get easier to accept that Hermione would be closer to both of them than ever, and that they wouldn't need her. Because even though Ron and Hermione might have learned to live without Ginny, Harry wouldn't be able to. She knew that he would think and pray about her, hope that she was safe and whole. But Ginny knew - she knew - that she could never be "whole" without Harry at her side. She'd known since she was eleven that she was in love with Harry Potter - even though she thought then, that it was teenager-love.
It wasn't.
She could never stop loving him. She refused. And if there was one really obvious thing about Ginny Weasley, it was that she was more stubborn than a mule.
Whatever a mule was.
--
In my eyes,
You're the only one that matters,
The only one that cares.
And I can't help but admire you
For ignoring all the stares.
--
Ginny knew that Harry would never leave her unless he was dead. And Ginny knew that Harry wouldn't die unless he wanted to. He would fight his heart and soul out, and then when he came home, bruised and inhuman, she would give him her heart, and her soul, and then he'd stay. He'd be needed here, and Harry wouldn't leave people who needed him unless there was a dark lunatic on the loose. And once he defeated Voldemort, there wouldn't be a dark lunatic on the loose, because without their leader the death eaters would be easy to catch, and Harry wouldn't be needed to do that. He'd be able to come home, and fend off reporters, like normal celebrities. Not that Harry was a normal anything, but that wasn't the point.
Ginny was confident that Harry would -somehow- defeat Voldemort. She said defeat instead of kill, because Harry was unable to kill. That was what made him Harry. Harry Potter was a good person, and while Ginny loved him for it, sometimes, it was a right pain.