Because of You

[A/N]: Firstly, I'd like to thank you all for the kind reviews and (specifically) amazing response to Ron's speech. I know many of you were waiting (patiently) since Chapter 1 to find out the meaning behind the speech. Something built on so much anticipation is often terrifying for an author - because you've got only one chance to do it right. So, I was pleasantly relieved that it met expectations.

[A/N]2: Another long-awaited moment takes place in this chapter. As you'll see, things are drawing to a close. I (loosely) estimate it will take 2 more chapters to complete our journey. Me thinking out loud: I wonder what the response will be once the story is completed. I imagine there may be another small burst of readers, those whom steer clear of WIPs.

[A/N]3: Not my stuff, never will be. Review, review, review! Every author loves feedback and, as it would appear, I am an author.

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Harry rounded the side of the Burrow, letting his eyes sweep the garden. Many guests had begun making their way outside, some taking seats before the altar; others standing around chatting. He searched quickly, glazing over the browns and blondes until his sight settled on a particularly lanky red-head. Harry strode across the grass, wordlessly grabbing Ron by the arm and dragged him into the nearby tent where the reception was to be held later on. Once behind its white canvas walls, Harry released his friend and ran two, tightly clenched fits through his hair.

Ron watched blankly as Harry paced around the tent, clearly agitated. After a few moments, with a pathetic moan, Harry stopped moving. He faced Ron and swallowed hard.

“What is this?” Harry asked through clenched teeth, pulling the folded paper out of his pocket.

Ron feigned a look of surprise.

“My speech? You found my speech? Was it with my flask by any chance?”

Harry was clearly not amused. He threw the paper at Ron's feet with a huff and crossed his arms.

“I'm not in the mood for games, Ron. Not now. Why did you give it to me? Why did you want me to read it?”

Ron seemed to be considering his response carefully. He scratched his neck nervously and cocked an eyebrow.

“So you read it?”

Harry glared at his friend, throwing his arms into the air with exasperation.

“Yes I read it! You told me to read it, didn't you?”

“Yeah, but how often do you actually do something just because I tell you too?” Ron quipped.

Harry rolled his eyes, but had to admit Ron was right. It had been his curiosity not Ron's prompting that had led him to read the speech. He deflated a bit.

“Ron, I just don't know what's going on here. The timing… I mean, this morning… I never imagined…”

Ron sighed and reached an arm out to Harry's shoulder.

“Have things ever been easy?” he asked, quietly, giving his best mate a shake.

Harry stared at the ground.

“Besides, easy rarely means better,” Ron added, tilting his head.

“How do I know if I'm making the right choice?” Harry asked sadly, kicking idly at a clump of grass.

“Harry, you of all people know that you don't. Usually, you just go with the one that makes the least sense, because if the reasons for it even being an option aren't obvious, there has got to be something much, much deeper there. I don't know what kind of epiphany you got from my speech and I'm going to say I have no idea what kind of decision you're struggling with, but whatever it is, I know you'll do what's best. Except, this time, for Merlin's sake Harry, do what's best for you…not everyone else.”

Again, Ron was right and he'd said all he possibly could. Ron couldn't openly choose a side - he simply had too much invested in the situation. He was Harry's best man, Ginny's brother and Hermione's best friend. Admittedly, the guy could be a bit slow at times, but he wasn't completely off his block.

“But your parents…I couldn't…” Harry stammered, embarrassed by what he was even considering. He had already brought so much trouble and pain to the Weasley family over the years, just by association if nothing else.

Ron groaned and rolled his eyes.

“My parents want what's best - for you, for Ginny… they will understand. I mean, maybe not right away, but they'll see. You certainly can't do this for them.”

Harry sighed and nodded his head. After a few silent seconds he looked up and smiled grimly. Ron slapped him hard on the back.

“Good luck, mate. This isn't the first time I'm glad I'm not you,” Ron mocked, looking somber.

Harry shoved Ron playfully then headed for the opening of the tent.

At the last moment, he turned back to face his friend. He sniffed loudly and wiped away at pretend tears.

“By the way Ron, I never realized you had such a way with words. Your speech was truly touching. You and Luna must really connect intellectually.”

Ron's face flushed.

“Yeah? Well, maybe one day I'll actually be able to deliver it, eh?”

Harry flashed Ron a rude hand gesture before turning and continuing out of the tent.

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Harry was almost positive that what he was about to do was a huge mistake, yet somehow doing the right thing had never gotten him very far. Some of his greatest triumphs in life were caused by making mistakes, breaking the rules and being somewhere he wasn't supposed to be. Still, his insides seemed to curl as he walked, as inconspicuously as possible, across the backyard and in through the backdoor of the Burrow.

The kitchen was still quite busy, despite the fact that many guests had moved outdoors and Harry hoped the remaining bustle would distract anyone from his presence. He silently thanked Merlin as he moved quietly passed Mrs. Weasley, who was bent over a large, bubbling pot, stirring rapidly with a long, wooden spoon. He continued silently through the sitting room, then began the slow trek up the stairs to the second floor landing.

Harry's feet felt as though they were strapped to cinderblocks and the sheer force needed to drag him self up each step was exhausting. Everything in his rational being was telling him to turn around and just leave things the way they were - everything except his heart. Every piece of his heart was pressing him forward. And that was just it. The underlying truth that had brought him to this point in the hallway was the fact that his heart was still in pieces. He was not whole. He had not been whole for a very long time.

He reached the landing much faster than he would have liked and inevitability pressed heavily down upon him. He crossed the hallway, gathering his nerve and with a deep, steadying breath, knocked forcefully on Ginny's bedroom door. Almost immediately a familiar voice called out.

“Who is it?”

Harry swallowed. He could still turn around and pretend he had never knocked. He could still race back down the stairs and act as though he had been in the kitchen the entire time. He could, but he wouldn't.

“It's Harry,” he answered, resting his forehead softly against the door.

There was a pause before he heard the muffled padding of feet moving across the floor. He straightened up and swallowed hard. The door opened just a crack.

“Come in.”

Harry rested his palm against the door and closed his eyes. He heard the sound of Ginny moving back across the room. He paused and silently savored what he knew would be the last few moments of any semblance of normalcy, the last moments before his life was once again upheaved and thrown into disarray.

With a few final deep breaths, he pushed the door open slowly. He wasn't exactly sure what he'd expected, but the sight before him definitely was not it.

Ginny was sitting on her bed in her wedding dress, surrounded by the billowy, white fabric of her train. Her knees were tucked under her, hiding her legs from sight. Her hair was pulled up into a bun of sorts, but unruly strands had escaped and now hung limply down to her shoulders. Her eye makeup was smudged slightly and two faint lines of black streaked down her cheeks. Her left hand held something rectangular and shiny which she brought quickly to her mouth.

“Ginny! Your brother's been going crazy looking for his flask! How the hell did you…?”

She shrugged.

They'd been together almost two years and she still never ceased to amaze him. Momentarily, Harry forgot all about the situation at hand as he tried to figure out how she could have possible acquired Ron's flask over the past few hours. His thoughts were broken when the youngest Weasley noisily cleared her throat. Harry looked at her, trying to meet her eyes, but she avoided his stare.

“You'd better hurry,” Ginny said stiffly, picking at the sequins on the bodice of her dress.

He offered a puzzled expression, but felt his mouth instantly dry up. She glanced at him and sighed.

“She left. She's gone. Or, she's on her way, I guess.“

Harry chewed the inside of his cheek nervously and shifted his weight from one foot to the other. His eyebrows were making funny up and down movements. Ginny expelled another exasperated sigh and snapped the flask closed.

“Hermione, Harry! Don't play stupid, because I'm certainly not.”

Harry felt sweat forming on the back of his neck. As always, Ginny was one step ahead of him. How had she even known Hermione was here? He didn't need to ask, she seemed to be reading his mind.

“I heard you talking. It was mostly muffled, but I caught enough. I had opened the door to use the loo and I heard your voice. You sounded upset, but then I heard hers and I understood. I saw you walk by and then a few minutes later she passed by my door too. She went into the loo and I waited outside the door. She wasn't coming out, so I knocked. She looked terrible. We talked… and I understood. Then, she left.”

Harry was somewhat stunned by the nonchalance with which Ginny recounted the events. Her matter-of-fact manner unnerved him more than if she had been crying or screaming. His mouth was stuck in an “O” shape as he desperately searched for words.

“You know, you aren't supposed to see the bride before the wedding,” Ginny said softly, fidgeting with the edge of her dress. “But, we aren't getting married, are we?”

Harry felt as though he had been punched in the stomach and he backed up until his body rested against the wall, needing the support. Then, he sadly shook his head, letting his chin fall to his chest. He felt ashamed. Silence filled the room as Harry grasped for words.

“Ginny, I'm so sorry.” He paused, collecting his thoughts. No explanation could possibly be adequate. Nothing he could say would ever truly be enough. Still, somehow, words began tumbling from his lips.

“You're beautiful and amazing and smart and funny. But, I offered you something I can't give. You deserve to be with someone who can devote themselves entirely to you and love you with all of their being. The truth is, for as long as we've been together, I haven't been whole. There's a piece of me missing. You filled that part of me and made me feel like the hole wasn't there. I'm sorry. I really, really, truly am.”

Harry was fully defeated and drained. His emotions were being pulled in a million different directions and nothing seemed to make any sense. Everything was completely messed up, again, and the unfairness of it all was positively infuriating. Or, at least, it would be, if he could muster the energy to even be angry.

Ginny looked at the ceiling, chewing her bottom lip. After a few moments, she shook her head.

“You never loved me, Harry.”

The words pierced Harry, causing him to draw a deep, sharp, wounded breath. She didn't say them with venom or anger, but rather with a simplicity one would use when describing the weather. He scratched his chin as his mouth opened and closed wordlessly. He wanted to tell her she was wrong. He wanted to correct her; to reassure her that wasn't the case. Why the bloody hell wouldn't his tongue work properly? Suddenly, it became clear. The truth was - he hadn't ever loved Ginny. She was right. He'd loved the idea of loving someone, hell, anyone other than Hermione. He loved being happy and feeling needed. He loved being distracted and being able to forget about the hurt. But, he had made a huge mistake. He had wrongly associated all those things with love for the person enabling him to be happy, and needed, and distracted. All along, he had been a sinking ship and now, he'd pulled Ginny down with him.

“I'm so sorry.” Harry couldn't find anything else to say. He meant it, in the most sincere way, but somehow it sounded cheap and cliché.

Ginny made a feeble shrugging motion and her eyes moved slowly from the floor to Harry. She smiled weakly.

“She's lucky, really. Hopefully this time she'll realize just how much so,” she whispered, her voice audibly wrenched with emotion.

Harry nodded dumbly, feeling sick. He had called off the wedding. Worse, he had hurt someone who had not deserved it in the least.

Ginny rose off the bed, letting the tulle of her gown fall around her. Her jaw was set stiffly as she strode across the room and grabbed the doorknob. She pulled the door open and stood back, keeping her eyes glued to the floor.

“Goodbye, Harry.”

Her voice was quiet, but firm and Harry got the message. He sighed and pushed away from the wall. As he passed her he wondered if he should hug her or kiss her cheek, but she drew back as he leaned in so he decided to do neither. She raised her eyes to his and held them for a moment. Harry wished he had something, anything to say, but his mind was blank. He walked wordlessly into the hallway and Ginny closed the door gently behind him.

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