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Ginny is good at getting over things. Not just good, she’s great, to the point that one might consider her a professional in the subject. She gets over things like it’s nobody’s business. A quick outburst of emotions (necessary), followed by a period of questionable and slightly self-destructive behaviors (unavoidable), and then she’ll go about her day until a sudden realization strikes her: that it doesn’t matter.
It really doesn’t.
Whatever “it” means. A bad match, a poor grade on her assignment, or a rejection from someone she’s spent most of her life being in love with. There’s just so much more to worry about when the school is being overtaken by terrorists, led by a megalomaniac dictator who would want nothing more than to see her crush’s head presented to him on a plate.
“It’s okay, Ginny. Harry’s kind of emotionally constipated anyway.”
Cho tries to comfort her, and though Ginny is unsure about the soundness of her assessment, she accepts it. She wants to say that maybe Cho only feels that way about Harry because of how they started, and that Harry doesn’t know what’s best for him, because she would’ve treated him better. She wants to think that Cho was a good girlfriend, because she’s her friend and it’s weird to compare yourselves like that, but on nights like this when she’s alone in her bed, staring at the ceiling with a heartache that refuses to go away – it’s hard not to spiral into these ugly thoughts.
(She feels the anger coming, and she doesn’t know where to direct it.)
***
These days she’s cool about it. She doesn’t broadcast her heartbreak to the world, but if someone asks her how’s it going with Harry she’s not shy to talk about it. She doesn’t flinch when she hears news or incident reports around the country (someone broke into Gringotts?), and when it’s her turn to get on Potterwatch she doesn’t think about how her brother and Hermione and to that extent Harry might be listening. (She hopes they do, but she doesn’t speak with the thought that they might be, somewhere on that wild goose chase of theirs, tuning in to the show.)
There are still moments when she cannot breathe. Retroactive jealousy is a disease and she feels it every time she looks at Cho. Harry told her he’d like for them to remain friends – did he say the same thing to Cho? Were they able to remain friends? She doubts it. There’s a little daydream she sometimes indulges herself in when the day becomes too hard to get by. Harry back at school, greeting her with his old goofy smile, and they could keep on acting as if nothing has changed, even though she knows that would never happen and they can never be friends.
It’s alright. It doesn’t matter. Ginny knows she’ll eventually forget. She’s always been so good at getting over things. There will come a morning when she wakes up, a strange sense of clarity washing over her, and she’ll realize that the fever has broken. The sound of his name will lose its meaning, the life she once dreamed with him will be tucked away, and she’ll finally remember how it feels to breathe again.
And wouldn’t that be the worst of all.