Eighth Year (Drarry Fanfic)

Stolen Kisses and Broken Hearts

With a resigned sigh, Harry pushed himself away from Ginny's embrace. He felt nothing, not even a whisper of a flutter in his stomach. He finally came to realize that whatever it was he'd ever felt for Ginny before the War had ended along with it. He no more cared for her than he did Hermione.

"Harry?" The panic and fear in Ginny's voice was unmistakable. He met her gaze, his eyes resolute and clear, finally unafraid of facing the situation head on.

Ginny must've understood something from his eyes because she began to shake her head, lips trembling, a jumble of emotions flitting across her face --- disbelief, hurt, and finally anger.

Harry pulled her towards a corner, relatively deserted compared to the mosh pit in the middle of the common room. A flash of pale-blond hair suddenly caught his eye. Instinctively drawn to it, he spotted Draco --- it was getting harder to think of the infuriating prat as Malfoy --- pushing his way through the crowd towards the door leading outside.

"W-why?" Ginny's strangled voice snatched Harry's attention back. "Why, Harry?"

"I..." Harry inhaled sharply, steeling himself before he continued, "...so much has changed, Gin... I'm not the same person I was before the War. I..." he paused, letting bitterness flood through him. "I just can't give you what you need anymore. You deserve better than this. You deserve someone who will love you wholeheartedly." Harry looked up, his eyes locking onto Draco once more. "I'm no longer that person."

Harry frowned as he watched Zabini corner Draco. The blond seemed agitated, brushing Zabini away. Then Harry stiffened, breath caught in his throat, jaw clenched so tight he was positive he cracked a few molars. Rage so potent erupted in the pit of his stomach. It felt like he'd been consumed by Fiendfyre as he watched Zabini duck his head, nuzzling Draco's pale jaw down to his neck. Harry's fingers reflexively curled, digging into Ginny's arms, causing her to flinch. Harry jerked his head down, eyes unseeing even as he stared at Ginny's tear-streaked face.

"I've known..." she spoke, voice quavering. "I've known for awhile. After the War, you seemed so far away. I couldn't reach you. I'd hoped you would eventually snap out of your maudlin, which you did... You began to smile again, laugh with everyone, but you remained so out of my reach. I knew then... I just kept hoping..." she cut off, burying her face in Harry's chest, quietly crying.

"I'm sorry, Gin." Harry choked out, stroking her hair, his own emotions a twisted mess. He bent down, pressing a kiss atop her head. "I'm so sorry."

She looked up, eyes bright and wet with tears. "Kiss me, Harry." She whispered tremulously. "Consider it our goodbye."

Unhesitatingly, Harry gently cupped Ginny's face and slowly lowered his head. He softly moulded his lips against her pliant mouth, trying to convey as much remorse as he could into that last chaste kiss. A sob escaped Ginny as she threw her arms around Harry's neck, pulling him closer. She parted her lips, surrendering, encouraging Harry to take more... and give more. But Harry, pulled slightly back, thumbs caressing her jaw, and gave her one last lingering peck on the mouth. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then, It was over.

Ginny stepped back, gazing at Harry, eyes filled so much sadness and longing, but there was no anger. "Goodbye, Harry." She then whirled around and quickly disappeared amongst the crush of bodies in the common room.

Harry leaned back against the wall, rubbing his hands over his face. Fuck, if that didn't hurt. He sighed. Although he was no longer in love with Ginny, he still loved her nonetheless. Hurting her had also torn him up. Desperately in need of more alcohol, he pushed himself away from the wall, grabbing his discarded jumper off the couch. He meandered his way towards the bar but was surprised to find that Parkinson was absent from her spot. Looking around, Harry spotted her near the archway that led up to the Boys Dorms, unleashing quite a heated tirade at Zabini. Harry flinched when she whipped out her wand and nearly gouged out the skin off Zabini's neck as she dug the tip into his flesh. After a few more shouted expletives that had been thankfully drowned out by the thudding baseline of the music, she stalked away from Zabini, making her way back to the bar. Harry leaned on the countertop, eyeing her as she approached.