Chapter Text
In a land far, far away, the crisp crunch of the snow pressing against the man’s boots is but a dim noise to his ears, easily muffled by the heavy weight of his clouded thoughts. Whimsical lights hang about the village, like fairies dancing in homes of glass, bringing life to an already lively and bustling community. Rich aromas of spices and bakery goods waft to meet his reluctantly curious nose. From a distance, he can see children holding hands, prancing in circles, books resting on the grass not far from them.
Suddenly, memories of too pristine drapery, burnt bread served in small portions, cold spaces and even colder company flash before him, and he reconciles instantly that for the person beside him who deserves a thousand shimmering lives, the one he could provide is laughably unfit.
He chooses instead to clear his throat from the overwhelming constriction building within. “Welcome home."
Harry isn't even sure she hears him until her voice reaches his ears this time, less strained but equally quiet. "Thanks. You've…we've come a long way together. I couldn't have returned home without your map and knowledge of the terrain and…well, your company."
Long way together, indeed. He starkly recalls the night they first met a month ago; he was nearly passed out at the pub, his ratty travelers’ attire dragging on the floor. In contrast, her finely stitched gown - though roughly hiked halfway up to her knees - allowed her easy passage to approach him and demand guidance back to her home. One of her many demands from him, as it would soon appear. He listened as she spoke of how a neglectful carriage had failed to pick her up while in town doing business across the country. Locals suggested that he - a troublesome albeit spatially adept traveler - could help her.
A bag of coins had clanged against the table before Harry could form the words "what's in it for me?"
Turns out, there was a reason why she was in such a rush to return home so quickly. It's the same reason why after weeks of navigating rocky territory and shady inns - all made surprisingly easy with her laughter by his side - he musters all the courage he can…
And shrugs these complicated feelings off.
"For all your talk of disliking sugar, you sure do come from a place with a lot of honey cakes." He lifts the sweet sample to his lips, sinking his teeth in appreciatively. Something to keep his mouth busy, at least.
Unfortunately, it doesn't seem to work very well. "Mmh, nice. You can really feel the corn amongst all that syrup. Good to get your vegetables in."
She sighs, her breath misting the air from his periphery.
"Honestly, I'm quite jealous." That last word chokes in his throat. "You've been stopped four times already with people offering you this. They're that excited to see you again."
"Harry - "
He can’t bloody stop himself, can he, because the next thing he knows: "I bet Prince Dean Thomas would have this waiting for you right by the kingdom doors." The intake of her breath is sharp, not so much a warning but a tense silence. "It must be in the betrothed handbook or something. 'Feed thy wife or face wrath.'"
"Very funny."
"That's why we came here, isn't it?" The reason why she was in such a rush. The reason why the ring sits on her finger, a delicate piece he’d caught his eyes tracing several times over the past month.
A reminder that she's not his, that she can't ever be his - he's a lonesome wolf, strings to his abusive aunt cut years ago, his proper language a residual to his pseudo-rich past. And she. Well, she's of the lifestyle of everything he left behind, of everything he hates.
So why does he not hate her?
He pauses at a nearby cart to pour himself some ale to mask his fidgeting.
"Harry."
Jaw clenching, he forces down his drink in burning gulps, really letting the seconds drag. "Ginny,” he mimics.
He hears her huff.
"So this is it, then. You're just going to keep evading my departure? Through flimsy humor?”
Pushing through the sharp pain her words evoke, Harry takes in a harsh breath. "There's nothing to evade. You're getting married. And based on everything you've chattered in my ear about so far, to a really good man."
"Yes…but that was before - "
Smashing the remnants of the honey cake in between his fingers, more decadent and rich than anything he's had the pleasure of tasting in his meager life, he snaps in two. "What should I say, Ginny? Don't go? Stay? Maybe your prince likes to whisper sweet nothings to you, but personally, as a mere acquaintance, I - "
Her fingers tug at his arm with unsurprising strength, forcing herself into his space. His stomach can't help but lurch at how the sunset paints her hair in ways that pedestal the lush sky only second to her attention.
"An acquaintance?” Her voice falters. “Is that all I am to you? Just…more than a stranger?"
He swallows, a chill settling low in his gut. Cruelly, he delivers the blow anyway.
"With time, acquaintances become strangers too."
Sure enough, the rageful tempest that battles its way across her fierce features is nothing in comparison to the aching realization that he is breaking her heart all the same. Like his damage was decreed collateral from the start of time, he watches her pieces shatter too.
"Well," Ginny whispers, eyes glassy, voice severe. "Allow me to speed things up for us then."
Harry doesn't turn to watch her leave. If he did, he might never stop.