Harry Potter Oneshots and Headcanons

After The Battle

Black faded to white and then to grey, as his eyes fluttered open. Staring blankly at the tall ceiling was all he could find the energy to do and as he brushed his matted hair from his eyes he sighed. His sight was blurred from sleep and fractured by the slither of cracked glass in his spectacles. It didn't matter; he didn't want to see.

Panic struck him when he woke; just like he thought it would. At the uncertain crossroads between sleeping and waking, Harry had felt a rush of anxiety and terror as the vision of Voldemort forced its way into his head. As he squirmed, the white face twisted and faded until it finally disappeared in a scattering of ashes and wind. The vivid red eyes plagued his eyes for a few seconds after, until he was left staring at the ceiling; a feeling of deep emptiness left behind.

It was a strange feeling. Everyday of his life he'd had bad things happen. Ever since he could remember, he had suffered abuse and struggled through bullying. And after that had finished, and a glimmer of hope had come to him, he had the weight of everyone he knew's expectations thrust upon his back. The world had been on his shoulders for what felt like an eternity and now it had been snatched away and all at once he felt too light, too empty and too free.

He didn't like it.

Is that selfish? He thought. He didn't want Voldemort to come back or anything, or want to have his old painful life back, he just didn't want to feel the gaping hole that was bleeding in his chest; where his anger and anxiety had been. It had been there so long it had become a part of him but now it had been ripped away and the wound was bleeding. There was no Voldemort. No death eaters. No friends.

Friends.

For a moment, his heart was in his throat as flashes of green light invaded his memory and the echoes of terrible screams ripping through eardrums surrounded him. He wanted to tear at his hair and cover his ears but he didn't. He's learnt to live with pain and flashbacks and he wasn't going to give in now. It was hard and he bit his lip as faces appeared and turned to dust; faces of everyone he'd killed. Or got killed. They'd died defending him but to Harry that was the same thing.

He squeezed his eyes shut and exhaled slowly, searching for something he loved to drown out the things he hated,  and then Hermione and Ron were in his mind. He remembered seeing them, talking with them after the battle. They were safe and together and, with that knowledge, Harry's heart grew stronger.

When he opened his eyes, the world was not as dim. His glasses were still cracked and dirty, and his throat was still sore and dry, and his hair was still covered with dust, but it didn't matter so much anymore. All his life he had been forced to change. Since he was a baby, things had been chaotic. Never had Harry had a simple life and never had he been allowed one. But now he had the chance to live one, or near enough. It was a scary prospect and he wasn't quite sure how it made him feel but he supposed the Butterflies in his stomach and the beating of his racing heart were a good sign. A sign that things would change but this time for the better.

A sniff startled him. He sat up and it was as if a light was shone on him from all directions. Ginny smiled through tears and Harry opened his arms. She walked to him slowly, her movements careful. Her arms wrapped around him and his around her, and neither one of them were sure who was holding who; or who needed to be held. Harry closed his eyes and pressed his lips to her forehead, feeling the warmth of her skin heat his soul. Ginny was what he needed. Even if the world changed beyond compare, he'd still have Ginny.

The reason behind her tears was something he didn't know and something he didn't want to ask. Whether to not spoil this moment or because he didn't want to know, he wasn't sure. Something told him it was because of Fred but Harry didn't want to consider that right now. There would be time for grief but now was not the time, he thought, strangely enough.

Cool fingers found Ginny's chin and pulled it upwards gently. Her porcelain skin was bruised purple and stained red, scars that would surely heal. Harry did not care. He thought she was beautiful and a thousand scars, mental or physical, would not deter him.

I love her, he thought, and it frightened him. It was something he had not said to her before and suddenly he felt foolish. Why hadn't he? It had always been there, he was sure she knew too, but the time had never been right.

The rubble and dust that surrounded them and the sleeping bag they were seated on wasn't there, and if it was they couldn't see it. All that existed was them. Harry and Ginny. Ginny and Harry. He looked at her teary eyes and smiled as she wrapped her own hand around the one he had placed against her cheek. He'd come so close to losing her, he realised, and the time was now right to tell her.
"Ginny," he said.
"Yes, Harry?" She asked, her voice sweet but strained.
"I love you."
And as he saw her eyes light up and her freckled cheeks flush, he had a feeling, just a feeling that with her, everything might just be okay.

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Finally, I've published an update! I've spell and grammar checked quickly so sorry sorry if it isn't perfect, I hope you like it!!! Thank you so much if you are still here and reading :) I love you all. x