AN: Hi guys, so I've been writing recently for the QLFC competition and this week's prompt was Ginny. I've always wanted to shed some light on what their relationship was like outside of this story, so I chose to wrote a prequel of sorts. So here it is! I hope you like it, I'm not sure if I'll do more with this story in future but it's a story I wanted to share and make sure you guys could read.

The War had ended. It was over. Life, invariably, went back to normal. Ginny Weasley just wasn't aware of how normal things were going to be. She'd always imagined that after Hogwarts she and Harry would settle down, that he'd be there more than ever, that they'd laugh, play Quidditch and have the kind of life her parents had always given her. The one, she knew, he'd always wanted.

At least, that's what they'd said.

Then had come the Aurors. It started as long days at training, putting in the extra effort to make sure that everyone knew he was there on merit and not just because of the scar on his forehead. Ron was with him, told her that they were all doing it. So she let it go. That was the start.

Besides, she couldn't say much. The Harpies kept her busy, training and then matches, there'd be whole weeks they didn't so much as see each other. He came to her matches at first. But then he became an actual Auror and weekends were a luxury he could no longer afford. There was always someone. A dead witch was found tied up underneath a bridge in Oxford, a tortured husband and a wife worried sick about him, and so many more.

Ginny found herself resenting the dead.

They at least got his attention.

"It's his saving people thing," Hermione tried to reassure her. "He'll be fine. He just needs to get through the worst of it. You know what Harry's like."

"Closes down, shuts people out," Ginny had muttered darkly, tearing up the tiny pouch of sugar she had poured into her coffee. Muggle London was easier to hide in. "Yeah. I know."

"Have you tried —"

"Talking?" She'd lost count of how many nights he'd passed out, too tired to even eat anything. "Yeah."

"And nothing?"

"He says he'll try, and he does. I know he does."

"But it's not enough?"

"We always said we wanted to be like mum and dad," Ginny remembered. "A family. He always wanted a family."

Only he had one, just not with her. The dead had him in the day and his godson at night. Sure, Harry had missed Bill's birthday, Ron's even, but he never once skipped seeing Teddy. Every night. Seven o'clock, even if it was only for a few minutes. More than once, she'd gone to Andromeda's before him to make sure she saw him. He always thought it was because she cared about Teddy, that made him smile and so she could never tell him the truth.

The days came and the days went. The hope for change that Ginny imagined never materialised. Why would it? Harry was a hero, he'd been the Boy Who Lived for so long, how could he be anything else? He saved people and when he couldn't do that, he made sure they got 'justice' — as if it meant something. They were still dead and she was still alone.

"We should go away," she said one evening, on the rare occasion that he was actually home before she banished her glass of wine and headed to bed. The work came with him, of course, an open file sat discarded on the table beside him. Ignored but never out of reach.

"Away?"

"Yeah, on holiday. You never got to go abroad, did you? We could go somewhere, me and you." Her heart broke. "And Teddy, if you want?" Is that what she'd come to? Using an infant to see her boyfriend?

"That sounds nice," he smiled. Every time his lips pulled upwards, her heart skipped a beat, as though everything in existence felt okay, just for that brief moment. "I'll have to get time off —"

"Then get it."

"And you've got the new season."

"We've got a week off coming," Ginny lied. "It'll be fine."

"I'll try, I promise. I just — there's a lot on," he gestured to the open file and the overwhelming chasm that had opened up in her chest over the last few years seemed to yawn ever wider.

"Someone'll cover."

"I know, I know." Harry snapped. Ginny felt herself stiffen against him. "Sorry. I'm sorry, I didn't mean —"

"No, it's fine." She forced herself up, trying not to look at the photos on the wall. Memories of times when they'd both been smiling, which at that moment felt like artefacts of a life she wasn't living. "I'm tired. It's fine. I'm going to bed."

"Gin —"

"I said I'm fine!"

They never went on holiday. He tried turning up to her games more, it was nice, while it lasted. Eventually, Ron left the Aurors, saying he couldn't put up with the hours. She hoped that would inspire Harry too, but all it did was tear him from her even more.

"Ron left!"

"I'm not Ron," Harry said, his voice tired and his eyes downcast. She had tried bringing up her brother's newfound happiness in the shop for what felt like the millionth time. Dinner sat abandoned on the kitchen counter, long gone cold despite the heating charms she'd put on it when Harry was late home. "I'm not. I can't leave, Gin. I can't."

"Why?"

"There's barely any of us as it is. We're already stretched too thin. People are dying."

"And you don't have to save them, not anymore! You've done enough, Harry."

He didn't say anything. That was the worst part. He didn't even say anything.

"You've done enough," she tried, taking a step towards him, her hand reaching out for him. Slowly, he took it, moving more like a wounded animal than the boy she'd fallen in love with. The Harry she knew was still in there wouldn't just hide from his pain, he'd kick and scream and yell that things weren't fair. He fought for things, so why couldn't he just fight for her?

"Dumbledore told me once, that I'd have killed Voldemort even without the prophecy," Harry said quietly, still unable to look at her, his stunning green eyes fixed firmly on the edge of the kitchen counter. "He reckons, it's 'cause of what he did to my parents. I guess it was, but it didn't turn off. I can't switch it off, Gin."

You can try.

She should've said it. She wished she had. Maybe things would've turned out differently. Maybe, if she'd confronted him then, instead of comforting him and holding him as tears poured down his cheeks, maybe, things would've worked out. He continued to drift. So did she. He tried, she could see it, but trying wasn't enough.

She had given up on him, on their happy ever after, when she knew enough was never going to apply to him. There would always be an excuse, another murdered girl, another missed anniversary or wedding, another long shift and a bed that wasn't slept in. Then he came around, he told her what she wanted to hear, told her she was beautiful, funny, and perfect, and she listened. All the while pretending the words flowed from Harry's face. McLaggen was there. Harry wasn't. Until, of course, he found them.

Then came the Prophet's stories, the Ministry ball and the absolute cow that was Daphne Greengrass.

Ginny Weasley had fallen in love with a hero — she knew that — she just never expected him to stay one.

AN: This is a short prequel story written for the QLFC prompt of 'Ginny' as a main character. I decided to use it as a precursor for my story 'Days to Come', which you can check out if you like this. I wanted to give some perspective on the conflict before this story, how it all goes wrong for Harry and Ginny and why Harry needed that shock to realise what was going wrong for him.