(A/N: A shorter version of this story was originally published on the Cookie Jar over on FictionAlley. When I wrote it, months ago, I thought it was unduly pessimistic. I offer it now as a source of possible comfort.)
(Disclaimer: I make no money from this. I don't own these characters. If I did, you all know how the books would end, right?)
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A Deeper Love
by Paracelsus
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Ginny knows it would bother Ron, if Ron ever noticed it. He never has… Ginny suspects he never will. While Ginny thinks it ought to bother her too, somehow it doesn't - she simply accepts it.
Tonight is a perfect example. It's the Feast of All Fools, otherwise known as Fred's and George's birthday, and the Weasley clan is gathered at the Burrow for a celebratory dinner. The guests of honor are giving everyone else presents tonight (Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes is doing better than ever), and in general enjoying their roles as the centers of attention. No one's paying much notice to the two newly married couples at the table.
Ginny's mind goes to the photo now sitting above the fireplace in the living room. It had been a double wedding, magical in every sense of the word, held on New Year's Eve at the stroke of midnight. As quiet a ceremony as it could be, given the fame of the participants - who now sat quietly at the dinner table while someone else suffered the spotlight. Ron and Hermione Weasley, and Harry and Ginny Potter.
Ginny loves Harry, loves him with all her heart. And there's no doubt in her mind that Harry cares for her as well. Ginny's quite certain about that. His quiet smiles, his gentle embraces, his unfailing courtesy… oh yes, Ginny's sure that Harry cares for her.
As for Ron and Hermione… between them, there's a more-than-usual amount of public touching, hand-holding, kissing - mostly initiated by Ron, but Hermione occasionally starts it, too. Sometimes Ginny wonders whether all that tactile expression is really healthy. But yes, if you asked her (hell, if you asked anyone who saw them), you'd know that Ron and Hermione love one another.
And yet…
Dad's talking shop at the moment, making some comment about new Anti-Halfbreed legislation that's coming before the Wizengamot. Hermione looks outraged. "Mr. Weasley, that's totally unjust! Look at Hagrid, look at Professor Lupin, look at all the people hurt by this new law…"
"… who fought with us against Voldemort," continues Harry. "The only reason we enjoy any peace today…"
"… is because so-called 'halfbreeds' risked their lives to fight on our side…"
"… so the least our side can do, now we've won, is acknowledge them. We owe them…"
"… and Anti-Halfbreed laws are no way to repay them," Hermione concludes. "Try arguing that point, see if it helps."
When did Harry and Hermione start finishing each other's sentences? Granted, they'd been thinking in parallel for years, but when did they start talking that way?
Harry turns now to Ginny, smiling and asking if she's heard from Bill and Fleur. She nods and starts to tell her end of the table about Fleur's new job in Paris…
Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny sees Hermione reach for the rolls. Simultaneously, and without taking his attention from Ginny, Harry picks up the butter dish and sets it down next to Hermione's plate. It's totally unconscious on his part, Ginny knows.
The moment is a perfect example to Ginny's mind: they're less like two people, and more like two hands of one person.
Someone's calling from the living room, from the fireplace. Mum leaves the table to see who's using the Floo. A second later, she's rushing back into the kitchen with an anxious look on her face. "Harry, dear, it's Kingsley. Something's wrong, he's asking for you…"
Harry's immediately on his feet and into the living room. The rest of the party crowds behind him. Kingsley Shaklebolt's head is in the Floo fire, looking grim. "Dolohov's gone to ground in Lincoln, Harry. We think he may have hostages."
"Hold onto this Floo connection," replies Harry, equally grim. "I'll come right through." He looks up at his family. "Sorry I have to leave so abruptly," he apologizes (as though this hostage crisis were somehow his fault, the goof). "Go ahead and have the cake without me. Fred, George, have a Happy Birthday."
He turns to say good-bye to Ginny - and Hermione's already holding his cloak, standing in exactly the right spot for Harry to shrug it over his shoulders as he faces his wife. "I'll Floo you as soon as I know anything," he tells Ginny, his eyes only on her. "Don't worry, things will be all right. Please take care."
"I will," Ginny promises as she kisses his cheek. "Come back safely." She doesn't say Come back to me… she's not so selfish.
Harry smiles and turns to step into the fireplace where Shacklebolt's head still waits. But Ginny notices that he makes eye-contact with Hermione for a split-second just before he Floos away… Hermione the last person he looks for, the last face he sees, before he leaves to battle the Darkness again. Nothing flirtatious, nothing even the most jealous spouse could read as a sign of philandering - nothing so simple as that.
As the party begins to migrate back into the kitchen, Ginny gives a glance to the wedding portrait on the mantelpiece. Two couples, arranged as man, woman, man, woman. When the photo was taken, it had been Harry, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione. Now, looking at it, she saw that the figures had moved, as figures in wizarding photos will do. Now they were standing Ron, Hermione, Harry, and Ginny - with Hermione standing quite close to Harry, and both of them studiously looking straight out of the picture at the viewer.
Ginny knew what she was doing when she married The Boy Who Lived. She loves him for so many reasons, but not least his selflessness… she would think less of him if he hadn't left the party to save innocent hostages. In a sense, he belongs to the Wizarding World before he belongs to her. She's always known that, and she accepts it.
That knowledge has made it easier to accept other things.
For though Ginny loves her husband dearly, she's aware that for him there exists a deeper love, a stronger bond, than she could ever hope to share with him. He belongs to someone else before he belongs to her. She's always known that, too - and she accepts it willingly.
"C'mon," she now tells Hermione, "let's save him some birthday cake."