Closure

Title: Closure
Author: ragdollangel
Disclaimer: They aren't mine (although I wish they were). All hail JKR.




Closure


She climbed up the stairs, slowly, wondering why exactly she was there. It had been 5 years. 5 years since he’d broken her heart. He hadn’t spoken to her since, and she had tried her hardest to move on. Only, she wasn’t sure if she really had.
That was why she was here, she told herself. She needed closure.


---

She was sixteen and in love- or so she thought. He was the school playboy, but somehow seemed more than a little interested in her.
Or so she had thought.
They would meet in deserted hallways and dark broom closets, outside of which he refused to acknowledge her presence. And unlike his other conquests, no one ever knew what the littlest Weasley was doing with the son of a Death Easter.
He was never kind, rarely gentle. But it was those moments- when he used to look at her- like she was the only one in the world- that she lived for. She knew him by heart, and her feelings depended on his. She was very quiet when he seemed upset, and smiled when he was in one of his top-of-the world moods.
He never called her by her name. Never actually said much to her at all. Sometimes she was afraid that one day he would simply forget about her. That one day she would simply cease to exist for him. But still the midnight rendezvous’ continued.

---


She reached his front door and stopped. She didn’t need come here. There were other ways of doing this. She almost turned back and left.

Wait- she told herself –you came all this way, you might as well go in. He probably won’t even remember you, and you can convince yourself that you were just a blind naïve little girl, and he didn’t deserve even being remembered.

No, he didn’t even deserve being remembered.



---

It was just before he left Hogwarts that it happened. He had insulted Harry, who responded with a particularly barbed retort. Eyes glinting dangerously, he had leaned towards Harry and told him.
“Guess who’s been fucking your fan club, Scarhead?”
Harry just stood there, unbelieving at first, then stunned and hurt when he saw the truth written on her face.
He had laughed at them malevolently, turned and walked past her, unseeing and uncaring.
She had never seen him again.

---

He had done well for himself, as far as she could tell. He was rich, popular, and hadn’t lost any of his amazing good looks. His picture was always in the tabloids, his arm around a beautiful girl, his reputation as a womanizer firmly established.

So why was she here?
Closure, she reminded herself. She needed to do this. Didn’t she?
She reached out and knocked.

She heard a muffled oath and the sound of a boot being thrown against the door. She took a deep breath and knocked again.

A minute later the door opened, and she found herself face to face with the boy who had never quite left her thoughts.
His white blond hair was messy, as if he’d been running his hands through it repeatedly. His eyes- still that unfathomable gray.

He looked at her. A young woman, red-haired, freckled and curvy, with big brown eyes. Not beautiful… but interesting.

There was a long pause. She tried to say something, but couldn’t.
She simply stood there, and waited.

He finally opened the door wider, his face unreadable.
“Come in, Weasley.”



---



She sat there quietly, not sure where to begin. He hadn’t asked her why she came, and she wasn’t very sure if she remembered.
He had looked at her curiously once or twice, then went back to his desk where he grabbed a half scrawled manuscript and started writing furiously, muttering to himself.

She took a deep breath and spoke.
“Harry asked me to marry him.”
No- she thought –why on earth did I say that? Why do I have to tell him anything?

He stopped, and turned around.
“Really?” he asked. “Fancy Saint Potter having enough brains to do that.”

This was not going well. Why were they talking about Harry? And what was it that she was going to say anyway? Her hands were shaking, and she got the annoying feeling that he, on the other hand, was completely at ease.

“Stop it,” she said childishly. “Stop calling him names, stop being so bloody stuck up all the time.”

He raised an eyebrow.
“Well Weasley, since I’m not the one who showed up uninvited, I really don’t think it makes a difference what I say.”
He smirked, scrunched up a sheet of paper and threw it in the general direction of the wastepaper bin. He missed.
“But surely you didn’t drop by just to tell me that you’re marrying Potter?”

“I’m not marrying Harry”, she said slowly.
She blushed and then continued hurriedly. “But I don’t want to talk about that now. That’s not why I’m here.”
Her voice trailed off and she stared at her feet uncertainly.
Why was she here?

“While we’re still young, Weasley” he drawled, “If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t know why” she suddenly burst out “There you go. Are you happy? I have no idea why I’m here or what I want to say. All I know is that I could have married one of the nicest boys I’ve ever known, but I turned him down. Why? I don’t know why. It’s because of you, and I don’t expect you to understand. You can’t really blame me though, can you? I was only sixteen, and these things are kind of hard to get over. And I know you don’t care but I don’t want you to keep hurting me even though you’re not there anymore. I just need some closure.”
She stopped, out of breath and kicked at the carpet sullenly, refusing to look at him.


“Closure,” he said. “There’s an idea.”
He picked at his trousers idly. “I need to get me some of that too.”

She glared at him. “Don’t you dare make fun of me”
He smiled back. “Ah, I wouldn’t dream of doing that.”

“Stop it,” she said, her voice rising, “Just stop it. You just make me so mad.”
She stood up. “I’m going.”

“Suit yourself, Weasley,” he said softly. “I never asked you over in the first place.”
He turned back to his desk and started writing again.

She couldn’t remember being this angry in a very long time. How dare he be so… be so indifferent? What was wrong with her? Why did she let him get to her like that? Why should it even matter to her what he said or did? She didn’t know. All she wanted to do was wipe that smug grin off his face, to see him defenseless for once.

She marched up to him, twisted him around and kissed him.

He was stunned at first, but kissed her back, harder, not letting her go.
She shoved him away, mortified, hating herself for doing that.

“I’m sorry,” she mumbled, shaking, her cheeks scarlet. “I’d better go”
She couldn’t believe she had made such a fool of herself. She never should have come here, ever.

He reached out and touched her arm.

“Ginny,” he said, brokenly, “Wait”

She stopped uncertainly. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t trust herself to. Not yet.
He had never called her by her name before.

“Listen to me” he continued slowly, as if each word was hard for him to say. “Just sit down a minute and hear me out.”

She turned around, her eyes averted, her fingers twisted in the ends of her shirt. All she wanted to do was run. She felt like the silly little girl she had been 5 years ago. Like nothing had ever changed.
Here she was, with the boy who had made her life miserable, and she couldn’t even turn away.

He let go of her arm and moved up closer to her.
“What makes you think you were the only one who was lonely, and wishing things were different?”

“Don’t you dare say that to me,” she spat back. “You have no idea how it feels. Everything was always easy for you. You always got what you wanted. Whoever you wanted. And you still do. You broke my heart, you bastard... and you didn’t even care.”
She was crying now, and didn’t bother to hide the tears.
“You messed me up, I cant even think straight anymore- and you? You go around with your women and your-”

“What do you mean, I don’t know how it feels?” he said, his voice rising angrily, “Do you have any idea what it feels like to be tormented by someone you would much rather forget? To see the same face every night and pray desperately that she would go away? Do you know how it feels to hate yourself and know that you deserve it?”
He stopped, and looked at her. “And the women. Ye gods, how I tried.”

She backed away.
“Leave me alone,” she whimpered. “I don’t want to hear this. I hate you, do you hear me? I hate you.”
She headed blindly towards the door, her hands shaking, her mind refusing to help her out.

“Wait!” he shouted hoarsely, “Don’t you understand? I never wanted to care about you. I tried so hard to get you out of my head… one night stands, old girlfriends-”
He paused and reached out to her.

She backed away defensively, refusing to look at him.
She didn’t need this now. She didn’t want to hear, didn’t want to know.

“Look at me,” he said, “Don’t you understand? None of them-”
He paused again.
“I hated them,” he said finally. “I hated them for being too pretty, too skinny, too soft, too perfect.”
He smiled bitterly, “Instead, I was haunted by a red haired harpy who wouldn’t go away”.

“I don’t have time for this,” she said softly, biting her lip to keep from crying again.
Without looking at him, she turned and began to run.
She ran out of the room, and down the staircase.

He rushed out behind her, yelling, angry and desperate- not caring who was listening. “Goddamnit, woman! You still don’t understand. It was you, always you. No matter how hard I tried, it was always you.”

But she kept running, willing herself not to stop, not to care. Running until she was out of sight.

He swore angrily, and walked back to his room, ignoring the curious glances.

---

She lay there, crying, not knowing exactly why she was crying. Seeing him again had done something to her. Then, as she watched the shadows on the wall, she suddenly knew why she had gone. And it had nothing to do with closure. Nothing to do with how much she wanted to move on.
She had just wanted to see him again.

And after five years, she suddenly realized that she still loved him.

---

The days passed slowly. Long, agonizing days.

She was standing outside the door again. Again, not too sure why she was there, but this time knowing it was the right thing to do.

She reached out and knocked.
She heard him swear, and there was a thud as a boot hit the door.
She knocked again, more firmly.

He opened the door, muttering, wild-eyed and annoyed. He obviously hadn’t been expecting company, and looked disheveled and -she noticed for the first time- lonely.
He stopped short and stared at her, unbelieving.

Pushing aside all her doubts and insecurities, all the nagging inhibitions from the past 5 years, she reached out and kissed the boy she had never stopped loving.

When they finally drew apart, there was a question in his eyes, and she tried to say something- but couldn’t. She looked at him, and suddenly felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff. Waiting.

He opened the door wider. This time he smiled.
“Come in, Weasley.”


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fin