FIC--Preparations

[ficsbydeenas]

Title: Preparations
Characters: Ginny
Rating: PG13
Summary: He's stubborn, noble, irrational, focused and strong-willed. He's…he's Harry. I once had a crush on Harry Potter the Boy Who Lived but now, I think I love Harry James Potter. No titles. No labels. Just Harry.
Words: 609
Author Note: Ginny just kept tapping me on the shoulder, annoying me until I wrote this. It's unbetaed, so all mistakes are mine. Please let me know if anything is terribly wrong.

Preparations

The view outside my window does nothing to distract me from the thoughts and memories that happened in the last two months. With a groan, I give in and go over them all again, knowing that nothing will change, nothing I want will matter and that nothing I want will have any sway.

The train ride after Dumbledore's funeral was the longest of my life, even longer than the one after my first year. I tried to tell myself that I was fine; I knew why he'd broken up with me and I was actually expecting it to happen. Nothing perfect in life lasts, that much is true, and those weeks with Harry were just that. They were full of innocence and risk all at the same time. It was wonderful; neither of us had ever been that happy. And then, it all went to hell.

I thought I had my emotions under control and that my "strong face" was firmly in place. I was wrong because once I got inside the compartment, and before Luna joined me, I broke down. Sometimes, when I least expect it, the soft, emotional girly side of me comes out and I cry. Thankfully, it doesn't happen all that often and usually not in front of any one. I've cried with Hermione and Luna, but that's all. To everyone else, I was the strong one.

But damn it! Why did it have to end like this? Why can't the world and everyone in it allow him to have happiness for more than a few weeks at a time? It's just not fair!

I told him secrets not even my best friends know; he told me about growing up in that hell-hole; I filled him in on the things that I went through my first year; he told me about the prophecy but wouldn't go into more detail than that. We touched, we kissed, we explored, we brought each other to the precipice of pleasure in those quiet stolen moments that never seemed to last long enough. I want all that back. I want to hold him and rub his back as he tells me the last bit of secrets he's holding. I want to hold his hand as he figures out what the next step is. I want to be there for everything he's going through, but he won't let me.

He's stubborn, noble, irrational, focused and strong-willed. He's…he's Harry. I once had a crush on Harry Potter the Boy Who Lived but now, I think I love Harry James Potter. No titles. No labels. Just Harry.

And like a fool, I'm letting him go.

Not that I have a say in the matter. Dumbledore and Riddle made that choice for him long ago and it appears he's following it. If I was a mere eleven months older, I'd follow him to wherever it was he's planning to go. He hasn't specifically said as much, but I can see the signs. He, Ron and Hermione speak in whispers and always have their heads together, conspiring, planning all under Mums' nose. The other day, I got something out of him that I know he didn't want to admit and his pitiful attempt at covering his tracks only told me what he had said was the truth. He's never been able to lie to me.

I heave a heavy sigh and turn around, hearing conversation down at the bottom of the stairs. I don't need to strain to figure out who's down there. I make a hasty decision that I hope turns out the way I want it to.

It is after all, Harry's birthday.