19 Years and Counting (DISCONTINUED)

Episode 1: Uncertainty

Ginny sat at the table in the dining room at the, currently, very crowded, Burrow. Keeping her eyes down, she scooped food onto her plate and ate it in complete silence, trying not to draw any attention to herself.

No one could know what she had been doing just before her mum had called her down for dinner. She tried to act like she was done with him and after a while, she had gotten used to the idea that he didn't love her. After a year of not knowing what had happened, after thinking he had died, after all the fame and swarming people, tears, grief, Fred... Ginny had realised that Harry really didn't love her like he used to but she had more important things to worry about anyway. He had seen too much and was different; she needed to hurry up and get over it... but did she?

That's why she cried in the first place. She was fighting her own internal dialogue- a hopeless battle, really. Days turned into months fighting the grief that plagued her when surrounded by people, or a person for that matter, who were supposed to help her. She could hardly blame Harry or anyone in her family; they all went through what she did and more. Ginny knew that. Because he was there, within arms reach, but so distant. She couldn't have him. And no one could know that she still cried over it or hoped that it was just until everything blew over.

So, she sat at the table in the seat across from Harry, surrounded by her family and friends, praying to Merlin that her bloodshot eyes weren't as obvious as she thought they were.

She finally managed to bite her lip and look up at the group, just for her eyes to fall on Harry. Again that nagging feeling of blame and grief tugged aggressively at her broken-down mind forcing her to immediately look back down to her plate of cold potatoes and vegetables like the pathetic thing she thought she was. Not even able to look at him let alone in the eye.

A dark, rough, ache fell upon her chest, causing it to tighten up; knowing he was there, knowing he stopped such horrible things from occurring, and yet some still did occur. Knowing the hot tickle at the back of her eyes all too well, she managed to gulp down the tears, shakily saying, "Mum?"

"Yes, dear?" Came Molly's kind reply. The war had hurt her, more than most; Ginny could see it in her once glowing and ever-caring eyes. The brown irises still held the same essence, caring and kind, but they didn't quite hold the same warmth that they once possessed. Through it all, she defended her family and friends fiercely, like the fiery Weasley she was, but she was a fantastic actor. Ginny had heard her crying to Arthur, dad, one night, about how she couldn't save one of her children, how she let them all down by losing him. Nothing anyone could say could ever stop the guilt that tortured her motherly soul.

"I'm done, absolutely stuffed." Lies, she was somewhat starving but she knew she could eat a couple bites and then get out of it. While she knew it was unhealthy, she couldn't stand eating because even opening her mouth was hard to do without some abstract, traumatising memory coming to haunt her once again. "Can I just go upstairs, now?"

"Don't you want to stay for dessert?" Molly asked, furrowing her brow, "it's pumpkin tart."

"No thanks - it sounds delicious but... I'm good." Again, lies. Molly could see it, but knowing she didn't have the strength to argue with her daughter to stay at the table, she gave in.

"Alright, then," Molly said in a defeated tone, "we'll have plenty of leftovers if you change your mind, dear."

"Thanks, mum."

She quickly moved to get up from her seat and hesitated for a second when Harry twitched and made eye contact with her. She quickly looked away and hurried upstairs. "Honestly, Ginny, get a grip girl, " she gritted to herself, transferring her words to her mind, he... but he twitched, didn't he?