"Then won't we have lunch to worry about?"
"You maybe. I'm planning on eating a school lunch, as awful as I've heard they are. Bye, Harry! Have fun!"
Harry climbed aboard and started searching for an empty compartment. While making his way from one car to another, he saw some people that caused his heart to skip a beat. The Weasleys… He didn't even glance at the majority of them really; he was staring at one very special person. Ginny. She was looking very shy and was crying seeing her brothers go. Harry smiled at the thought; he remembered her crying a reality ago and chasing after the train when it was leaving.
Harry then overheard her ask about seeing the Neville Longbottom before he got on the train.
He didn't see it when she turned to look his way when he was lost in some deep thoughts. He remembered he wasn't the ruddy Boy-Who-Lived anymore. Sighing sadly he moved his way down to the next car.
He would still wait for her. If she was still the same person that is.
Ginny was crying and laughing goodbye. Her four brothers were leaving for Hogwarts. She was going to be alone for a year at the Burrow. She looked at the train cars and soon saw a young boy around Ron's age with messy black hair and bright piercing green eyes go from one car to another. He was deep in thought and while looking her way, was not actually looking at her she thought.
But… for some reason, she had a weird connection feeling like she knew him from somewhere. Slowly she gave her attention back to her brothers. She had this feeling that she was going to meet him again one day. He sure did have dreamy green eyes.
But something would have to be done with that hair, that's for sure. Hadn't he ever heard of a brush or a comb?
Now where's Neville Longbottom…? Ah. "Hello, Neville. You're looking well today."
Neville dropped his trunk with a loud thunk and approached Ginny Weasley. Sigh. This came with the fame, he knew, but he needed to keep up certain appearances. Especially in public. "Why, hello there, Ginny. Thank you. I'm looking forward to going to Hogwarts," he said, kissing the back of her hand.
"You certainly are a charmer, Mr. Longbottom," Mrs. Weasley said to the boy holding her little girl's hand.
"How could I not be to a special girl like you have, Mrs. Weasley?"
"You're sweet, Neville. Here. I brought you something for the long train ride. You do like brownies, right?"
"Absolutely adore them," Neville beamed as he saw some members of the press looking around the platform for a photo opportunity. They noticed him and cameras started to focus.
Harry had a good look at the entire byplay with Longbottom and the Weasleys. What the hell had just happened? Eyes wide, he slumped down in the seat, his trunk still in the middle of the compartment, blocking anyone else from coming in. He watched out the window for a little longer as both Ginny and the stuck-up kid, wait… no, he was right - the stuck-up kid seemed to have a conversation. A civil conversation. Neville was smiling as was Ginny.
What the hell was going on? Neville was just a few steps away from being a goon! Surely his Ginny would know that and see that. After all, his Ginny…
That was when it hit him. His Ginny. Tears began to well up, jockeying for position to be the first one out and down his face.
That wasn't his Ginny. His Ginny was gone. Six and a half months ago she was taken from him. Sure he now had a new old family, but she was part of his old new family. The family business was starting to confuse him so he simply shuffled them all into a family category.
It didn't help. His Ginny was gone. He was in a different dimension. He had parents and siblings here. Ginny Weasley was alive here. But she wasn't the same Ginny Weasley he'd known. Right now she was acting so smitten she could have kittens (or whatever was the bloody magical equivalent Harry rationalized).
This Ginny was different.
It was as simple as that. She was different. It was a different dimension. His Ginny was gone.
The train lurched and slowly began to build steam as it headed out of the station.
For over an hour Harry just sat there with a stunned expression on his face, the occasional tear streaming down is face. He remembered the good times he had with the Weasleys and how it had brought him closer to Ginny. He remembered her bad poetry a few months before… Voldemort's demise. He remembered her laugh.
But more than anything, he remembered the girl who saw him and knew she wanted him.
And that girl was gone.
It would not be right to force this new Ginny into assuming that role of his late fiancée. She was gone and he needed to accept that.
But more than anything, he remembered the girl who saw him and knew she wanted him.
And that girl was gone.
It would not be right to force this new Ginny into assuming that role of his late fiancée. She was gone and he needed to accept that.
Tears ran freely down his face and had been doing so for more than a half hour. He hadn't cried like that in months, not since the night he'd had to bury his love.
He'd wanted to take up with his Ginny right where he'd left off. But this new Ginny was not the same.
This Ginny was different. It was as simple as that.
A part of him grew angry. He wanted to lash out at anything. At her. Was it possible that the youngest Weasley was nothing more than a deluded, amorist-using, infantile, immature, snotty, hotheaded little fangirl? (1)
No. That wasn't it. At least, not entirely. That wasn't fair to her either. He didn't even know her. And that was the problem. He needed to let his Ginny go and not put all his hopes on this new Ginny. If something were to happen in the future, then so be it, but the way she was gushing at Longbottom that seemed like a distant supposition.
It was time. Standing, he watched the countryside whiz past through the window. His right hand over his heart, his left holding onto the slightly swaying railcar, he lowered his head onto the window, looked out and said, "Goodbye, my heart. My love. I will see you again when the time comes for me to end my stay here on Earth. Until then, know that I loved you with all my heart. But now I must move on."
He hadn't meant to say it out loud, but he did anyway. It was time to move on. He'd had to tell himself that if only to set it in motion. It was time to move on. Ginny would have wanted him to do it.
After a proper mourning period, of course, he smirked at the thought. Mourning was over. It was time to move on.
For several more hours he sat there in comfortable silence. The clackity-clack of the train going over the rails almost lulled him to sleep. He would have gone had his door not suddenly opened.
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