14Her face was void of any emotion. She was hugging her mother tightly, who's face was bathed in pain.
She needed to cry, to laugh, to scream, to lash out. Anything, but do what she was doing now. Because there was one thing he knew, one thing he was sure of, is that if you kept everything bottled up, something was bound to go wrong. Whether you went mad, became bitter, or destroyed your soul.
She needed to break, and he was going to help her whether she wanted him to or not.
He was worried that she hadn't cried yet. Hadn't even screamed. Her face was blank, her eyes hollow. He couldn't see any emotion there, any pain. And that scared him.
He knew she was trying to be strong. Strong for her family. But she was so into the role, so immersed in it that he was afraid that she would never be able to get out. He was scared that she had dug herself into so deep, that not even he could save her. That no one could.
He had been watching her for the past two days. Her movements were robotic, and she never stopped moving. Her body was there, but her soul was elsewhere. She didn't stop, and when she saw him, she would run. And it was driving him mad.
He knew why she ran. And that's what hurt him the most.
She knew he could break her. But she didn't want to break. She couldn't. It wasn't an option: it was an obligation. She couldn't let her family see her pain. She had to be strong: for her mother, her father, her brothers. She had always been the strong one. Unbreakable they say she was.
That is, until Harry Potter had come into her life.
At first, he had made strong and independent Ginevra Weasley retreat into her shell. She was always twitchy and nervous around him. She would always stutter and blush. That's when she realized he was trouble.
No one had made her act this way before; it just wasn't natural. She was scared, scared of what this boy with dazzling emerald green eyes did to her.
And she honestly had no idea what to do.
Where was her Gryffindor courage? Where was that fiery attitude? Where did Ginny go?
But in time, she learned to control it. She was able to control her actions, and wouldn't be seen gazing dreamily into his endless green eyes and blushing beet-red because of his heart-melting smile.
And then, well, you know the story. They became good friends, joking, laughing, and the occasional row. She found herself falling in deeper, no matter how many boys she dated. She couldn't control that. Long ago she had learned that you just couldn't control love. But of course, she didn't know it was love at that point.
Then they became a couple; a couple in love. She wasn't going to lie to herself: she loved him. She had realized that after two weeks of them being together. And even though he never said it, she knew he loved her too. The looks, the caresses; she knew that was his way of saying it. After all, a single action spoke more than a million words. They were blissfully living a dream, letting themselves be ignorant to the war, to the deaths, to Voldemort. Until one day reality came crashing down on them, knocking them off balance in the form of the death of Albus Dumbledore.
This was when he had truly broken her.
He had made her cry, made her feel miserable. He had made her weak, and that was something she could not afford to be. Because she was Ginevra Weasley, fiery and strong. Never broken, never shattered.
But he had gone and made her hurt like she had never hurt before.
She hated love. Despised it. If it had brought her this much pain, then to hell with it! She promised herself that she wouldn't fall in love again. Not with Harry, not with anyone.
But, how could you fall in love again when you had never actually fallen out of it?
When she saw him again in the Room of Requirement, the emotion came back stronger then ever, making her tremble with the intensity of it. It had been too long since she had last seen him. Too long since she had last talked too him, and far too long since she had last kissed him.
She cursed herself internally. She was suppose to be stronger, she was suppose to have forgotten love. Forgotten him. But as much as she tried, she couldn't forget how wonderful it was; how beautiful, how amazing. She couldn't forget his kisses, his eyes, his smile. She couldn't forget him.
And looking into his eyes, she knew he hadn't forgotten either.
"Ginny, you can't run away forever."
She didn't say a word to him, only started walking away briskly. He grabbed her arm gently, making them both shiver at the contact.
It really had been far too long.
"Please Ginny. Let me help you."
She couldn't afford to look into his eyes, so she stared at the wall in front of her.
"I don't need your help," she said stiffly, trying to free herself.
His grip tightened, and he shook his head. He wasn't going to take any of this.
"Please," he pleaded, "you can't keep everything bottled up like this."
When he saw she refused to look at him in the eye, he sighed, sounding hurt and frustrated.
"Damn it Ginny, don't you see?" he blurted out, making Ginny jump slightly. "We're worried about you! Please," he said, tugging her arm gently, "Look at me Ginny."
She twitched her head towards him a little, and he smiled to himself. It was a start.
"You don't need to always be the strong one. You don't always need to be the one who everyone leans on. You can lean on someone too Ginny; it isn't a crime," he said softly.
She closed her eyes tightly. She wasn't going to. Not now.
"But my family...they need me and..." she started off weakly, not knowing exactly what to say next.
"They are going to be fine. As fine as they can be."
"But Harry, they need me to be strong. They- they need me to be strong..." she repeated, shaking her head.
He sighed, "No Ginny. They need you to be okay."
"But I am okay," she protested weakly, trying to convince him of it.
But truth be told, she was trying to convince herself as well.
"No," he told her firmly. "You're not fine. You haven't cried yet Ginny! Or shouted. Or done anything to vent out. Please," he said pleadingly. "We're all worried about you."
She shook her head, fiercely, trying to ignore the bubbling in her stomach, the knot in her throat. She was not going to cry.
He grabbed her other other arm and pulled her to him, forcing her to face him.
"Ginny," he said, lifting her chin so he could look her straight in the eye. "Break."
And she broke.
She started sobbing uncontrollably, clutching onto Harry for dear life. It had been building up for two days now; all this pain and agony seemed to have been set free at Harry's go, and she couldn't stop it. She was surprised when she realized didn't want it to. These pent up emotions had been weighing on her, plunging her heart. She tightened her grip on him as her knees gave away, and he hugged her tighter so that she wouldn't fall. Stumbling, he led them onto the couch behind them. He heard her muttering incoherently as she cried, and he rubbed her back, trying to sooth her pain and grief.
After what seemed like an eternity to Ginny, she somewhat stopped crying. Looking up at Harry, she smiled weakly.
"Thanks."
He smiled, "Anytime."
She hugged him tighter, tears still silently falling down her pale face, albeit not as much as before.
"Harry?" she asked after a few minutes of silence.
"Hmm?"
"You're a git."
He chucked quietly, "That I am."
She looked up at him, a hopeful expression on her face. "But you're my git right?"
He smiled at her, sincerity shining in his eyes. "Of course."
She smiled, pushing her face into his chest.
"Never let me go Harry," she whispered.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Author's Note: Hmm, well that's my oneshot. What do you guys think? You might have read a similar story like this, because I know I have. It was a TonksRemus one, and it inspired me to write this one. The little bugger wouldn't leave me alone, actually. I hope you enjoyed this, so please review! I appreciate feedback: good or bad. (:
Do you guys mind checking out my story Confessions? It's humor mostly. Thanks! (:
Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter (these things get annoying to write after a while). Really.