Was It Ever Meant to Be?

Chapter One: As Pathetic as Ron

Ginny opened her eyes as the scent of bacon filled the air. She poked around for some clothes, which was rather hard, as almost all her stuff was packed. She finally decided on a green tank top and a pair of faded blue jeans. Hermione was already up, "Probably to get some last-minute reading done", she thought, as she stood up and began to get dressed. Tomorrow was their train ride to Hogwarts, and Hermione had to patrol the corridors as part of her prefect duties. Ginny was also a prefect now: her mom was so happy, she bought her a broom. A Firebolt, just like Harry's... Harry...he popped into Ginny's head again, as he had almost every day. Ginny tried to stop thinking about him, but it was hard not to, after their sudden breakup at the end of last term. He had said it was dangerous. Since when had she cared about danger? After all, she had been at the Ministry with him two years ago... and wasn't it her who had done Tom Riddle's bidding? True, she had almost died, but still, she had faced Voldemort once, and she could do it again! She had loved Harry since she first saw him at platform 9 3/4 six years ago. "Some things were just meant to be", she said decidedly to herself, "And this is one of them." Suddenly, Ginny knew what she had to do. She grabbed Pigwidgeon, picked up some parchment and a quill, and began to write...

* * *

On the other side of the house, Harry woke up to the sound of a whistling teakettle. The smells of sausage and flapjacks drifted in through the crack under the door of Ron's room. He sat up, and fumbled for his glasses. Ron was still fast asleep, muttering something under his breath: Harry couldn't help but listen. "Mione... I lo-" But Harry couldn't hear the rest, as an owl had just hooted loudly. He scrambled to the window and opened the latch. Pigwidgeon, Ron's tiny (and extremely annoying) owl sat on the windowsill, a letter clutched in his beak. Harry was just staring at the unrecognizable handwriting, wondering who would be writing to him, when Ron woke up. "Wazzat?" he asked sleepily, spotting the letter in Harry's hand. "Dunno." said Harry, as he began to tear open the thick, white envelope. Soon, he wished he hadn't opened it at all. It read:

Dear Harry,

I don’t know what to say. I can’t believe you don’t see the connection between us, and to even think of skipping school this year, just to look for Horcruxes and basically your death? How could you leave and not take me?!?! After what happened to Dumbledore, how can you say that it’s your destiny? After all, he even said that love is the one thing that He Who Must Not Be Named doesn’t understand? Doesn’t that mean anything to you? Don’t you get it: as long as you love me, I will be safe. Please, just give me a chance! I promise I’ll be safe. I’ll do anything, Harry! I love you, can’t you see? I thought you were better than this, but maybe you’re just as pathetic when it comes to women as Ron. I thought I knew you.

Sincerely,

Ginny

Harry gaped at what he had just read. He couldn’t believe his eyes.

* * *

Ginny, now fully dressed, walked sleepily down the stairs to the Weasley's kitchen. After mumbling a hello to her mother and kissing her father on the cheek, she sat down and heaped generous helpings of bacon, eggs, and flapjacks onto her plate. As she started to wolf down her breakfast, Harry appeared in the doorway. 'Please don't sit here... anywhere but here' she prayed, but - much to her dismay - Harry took the seat next to her. Ginny now found it hard to eat because of Harry's messy black hair blowing in the small breeze issuing out of the stained-glass window, his gorgeous green eyes staring at her... No, STOP! She'd promised herself she'd gotten over him. She stood up, cleared her place, and went back upstairs. But she hadn't gotten far before…. Pop! Harry, seizing the moment, apparated upstairs to corner Ginny. He had to talk to her. Sure enough, in a few moments, a flash of red hair came streaking around the corner. "Ginny!" said Harry "I'm sorry I hurt you. I didn't... I mean I'm sorry... I wish we could, but it's.... difficult... I.... you wouldn't be safe... it just wouldn't.... work out." Ginny was silent for a second, then let out a sob and pushed past him to her room. Harry heard a door slam shut, and more unstoppable wailing floated out of Ginny’s bedroom door. What had he done? Maybe he was as bad with women as Ron was.

* * *

Later that afternoon, Harry was discussing this with Ron over studying for next years homework (Hermione’s idea, of course), when Ginny appeared, looking thoroughly disgruntled. “I-“ stuttered Harry, but was stopped in mid-sentence by one of Ginny’s famous Weasley glares. Ron and Harry stared at her for a moment, Harry giving Ron an ‘I-told-you-so’ look, and went back to their books. Ginny took the seat farthest from Harry, and reached for the teakettle. Harry, wanting more than anything to make up with her, tried to pour her tea for her, but instead missed. Tea spattered all over Ginny’s new green tanktop and the table. She stood up; fuming mad and soaking wet, and began to scream. “LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE, YOU GIT! YOU ARE – BY FAR – THE MOST INSENSITIVE WART I’VE EVER HAD THE MISFORTUNE TO MEET!” and with that, she stormed off, leaving the two boys at still sitting at the table, staring in disbelief.