Harry Potter A Story Previously Untold

The simple fact was that Ginny Weasley had had enough of Harry Potter. There was nothing else to it, and although it saddened her that her first love had slowly faded, there was no denying that there was no longer any spark or passion. Ginny had tried, multiple times, to reignite what they once had. There had been the romantic getaway (to France, of all places), that had concluded with Harry apparating back and forth between the hotel and work, and Ginny growing more and more frustrated at spending a romantic evening on her own. After that, Harry had attempted to make it up to her by taking her out for dinner, but after stilted conversation and a near-argument over whether or not to have dessert, they left with a silence between them that seemed to stretch forever.

And the silence only seemed to continue. For almost a month after Ginny had given up trying, the pair endured meals together where barely a word was spoken. Ron and Hermione would invite them over for dinner and they would make their excuses. Other friends from work would pop over, family would want to get together and they would just stay well away. If the walls of their small one bedroom flat could talk, they wouldn't; instead, preferring silence over speaking the great loss of love that was slowly unfolding between them.

It expanded, pushing the two bodies further and further away from each other, until one Sunday morning Ginny looked across the table at Harry eating his toast, crumbs sticking in the stubble on his chin and The Daily Prophet in his other hand, and she was surprised to realise the didn't feel the usual pull. When in love, even the ugliest of moments are seen as beautiful. You love that person more than anything, and something as little as toast crumbs can make you feel squishy inside at the sight of it. Ginny felt none of this, however, and she slowly lowered her cup of tea and stared at the green eyed man who she had known for the majority of her life.

It was over. She hadn't spoken it, and she felt as if she would need to speak to someone before she could totally commit and talk to Harry about it, but she felt it had ended a long time ago and it was only now, in the harsh light of the morning, that she truly realised she no longer had feelings of love for Harry Potter. She felt sadness overwhelm her then, and she stood without warning to leave the room. Her breakfast sat uneaten on the table and Harry didn't even glance up at her leaving; it was confirmation enough.

When she was upstairs in their bedroom, she sat on the bed and felt the tears prickling. Glancing around at their photos, she smiled. There was no reason to regret what they had shared together; portraits of happy faces, the smiles more prominent as the years progressed after the war. They had loved each other dearly, and for a long time at that, but perhaps their time together had naturally come to an end. Grateful as she was that it had ended this way and not in some cheating scandal type way, Ginny still felt a pang at having to talk both to Harry and to their respective families about it all. But then, maybe on another level, they already knew what was coming.

Tears fell down her cheeks as she contemplated what was to come; moving out, finding a place of her own and starting again. At 24, she was still only young, but just the thought of starting all over forced more tears down her face. Her age only made her feel worse; her friends were already on their way to having their first child and yet Ginny would be moving out and finding her way – this time without Harry by her side. Wiping them away furiously, she took a deep, shaky breath. She could do this. If growing up with brothers had taught her anything, it was that she was stronger than every single one of them. Add to that the trauma of the war, _losing _a brother and the clean up that followed, she was pretty sure this wasn't going to beat her. Ginny sniffed to herself and shook her head.

It was a Sunday morning and they had nothing planned. Looking at how much she had accumulated over the years, she eyed up her two suitcases and knew it wouldn't all fit; her clothes wouldn't even fit in the two. Hermione would have to be called upon to help and she knew some of what had been going on between them – Ginny had taken to seeing her friend for lunch once a week where she could vent. Through work, though, Ginny had made a close friend who she knew she could count on; perhaps even stay with.

Ginny had met Ella only a few weeks after her start at the Daily Prophet as Quidditch correspondent. She had been offered a spot on the Holyhead Harpies, however chose to put it off for a year to focus on her job at the paper. Now that she was 3 years into her job, she often thought about taking the offer which was renewed each year; the one thing that kept her at her desk was her passion for the job. She trained and played Quidditch often, occasionally even with the Harpies or Ella, but for the moment she enjoyed watching the matches and writing about them. Ella was another Quidditch correspondent, being forced to quit playing the game professionally when she permanently injured her wrist; being seeker, there wasn't much she could do.

The two women had grown close quickly and were often seen heading out to lunch together or in the pub on a Friday night. The difference in looks between the two girls always amused others that worked with them; Ginny's pale skin and flaming red hair looked the complete opposite to the dark tones of Ella's skin and her super short, chocolate brown hair. A colleague would often joke that they were as close as sisters but looked nothing alike. For every freckle Ginny had, Ella had smooth, blemish free skin; her parents, of Mexican descent, had fortunately passed on good genes.

They eventually got to a point where Ella knew everything about Ginny and vice versa. The Weasley had often gone to Ella when her and Harry had started having problems and even stayed with her one night when things had hit a particularly rough patch. Ginny, in turn, knew all about Ella's problems with her ex-girlfriend who had cheated on her for at least a year. The pair were inseparable, their own problems forming the base of a strong friendship.

Ginny now moved to the desk opposite the bed and scrawled a quick note to her friend, letting her know that she may just turn up on her doorstep later that day. In a room down the hall, she could hear Hedwig the Second hooting and she sent the letter off without a hassle. Sighing deeply, she knew it was time to talk to Harry; she had no idea where to start or how to explain her loss of feelings. How do you tell someone that you've fallen out of love with someone? Especially someone who you've shared so much with; when the pair had originally married, there had been talk of children, grandchildren – they had survived so much, and wanted so much for each other after all that had happened through their school years. It was the life that everyone wanted for them, really; her mother was always talking about wanting more grandchildren, and made a point to mention it whenever she saw Ginny. The young woman felt a pang at what her family would say, especially her mother.

"Ginny?" Harry's voice calling out to her cut through her thoughts sharply and she jumped; she had been standing in the hallway for the last five minutes, nervously biting her nails. Shaking her head slightly, she straightened up and moved back downstairs to the kitchen where Harry was washing up after breakfast. He gave a quick nod in her direction as she entered. "I've left your breakfast if you still want it? I've been called into work."

"On a Sunday?" Ginny knew she sounded exasperated but she couldn't help it; she had gotten herself ready for this and now he was leaving? "I wanted to talk; can't you do it tomorrow?"

"Talk about what? You know Hobbs as well as I do – I should have been there ten minutes ago." His manner was abrupt and Ginny felt the familiar sting of annoyance. How did he manage to irk her so much? In the beginning neither of them wanted to leave for work, preferring instead to stay at home together; now, they couldn't wait to be apart. Harry finished up with the dishes and dried his hands on the hand towel. He looked at her carefully. "Talk about what?"

It hung in the air between them; _us_. They locked eyes and Ginny was sure he knew what she was thinking. Harry hung the towel up and began wiping the bench down, unaware that he had already done so. Ginny watched him carefully, the word stuck in her mouth as she fiddled with her hands and blew it out in a sigh. "Us."

Of course he knew that it was their relationship she wanted to talk about – they had been dancing around the subject for months, using pitiful metaphors instead of actually talking like adults about it. As much as it was over, they were still a couple and neither wanted to be responsible for the act of ending it. They were both at fault for the loss they felt, yet someone would have to be the one to start the conversation; someone had to set the ball rolling. Ginny knew Harry well enough to know that it could take several years before he felt tired enough of their all-too-casual routine to say something about it. It had to be her.

Harry had sat down at the couch, his eyes focused on the table and an unreadable expression on his face as Ginny joined him. There was an awkward moment when Harry reached out to grab her hands, almost an instinct, but instead picked up a stray crumb and flicked it onto the floor. His eyes moved to her face and she smiled softly at him. "You knew this was coming."

"Doesn't mean I wanted it to, though, does it?" He replied, and for the first time in weeks, Ginny heard anger. Their arguments had all but disappeared; in a healthy relationship, a couple would argue fairly regularly, but they instead moved around each other as if participating in a well-coordinated dance. They never touched, never looked at each other for long; they were experts at avoiding each other while portraying the image of a loving couple. Harry let out a long breath. "So, what now?"

The anger now switched sides and Ginny felt her face turning red with it. "Of course – it has to come from me, doesn't it? Regardless of whether or not you 'wanted' this, Harry, you have to take some ownership. This isn't my fault." Attempting to keep her voice steady, she took a deep breath before continuing. "But I'm not saying it's your fault, either. We just. . .lost."

"Well, that's depressing." Harry snorted and looked out the window. The last of Spring was slowly giving way to the beginning of Autumn, and it was evident on the trees. The green was now outnumbered by multiple shades of orange and each morning as the sun rose, it turned their kitchen a bright colour. The colour never matched the mood, though. It seemed to mock them now; look at how vivd life could be, how beauty shone through even when the cooler hands of Fall came creeping through. The air surrounding them appeared to reject the light and instead, they sat in their own darkness, waiting for the light to find them once more. "I feel like it should be louder than this. Why aren't we arguing?"

"What is there to argue about? We've grown apart." It felt strange to be uttering the words that she had thought no more than ten minutes ago; words that they had both felt grow between them for some time.

"Do you still love me?" His words were quiet and she almost pitied him. "I. . .I know I haven't been the best husband in the world, but we used to be happy. Merlin, even referring to myself as your husband seems off now. When did we let this happen?"

Ginny cautiously ignored his first question and instead went for the slightly more loaded second one. "It wasn't an overnight thing. We stopped caring about each other, I think. Or rather, you stopped trying." Before she had even thought about it, the words were out of her mouth and into the cool air between them; she was certain she felt the anger in the room rise. Her hand came to her mouth as if trying to force the words back in but Harry's eyes told her there was no taking it back.

"I stopped trying? Me? You're kidding, right?" He stood up now, pacing around the kitchen and for a moment, Ginny wanted to hug him, feel his lips on hers; ask him to take her upstairs and forget about the whole thing. There was no going back, though. Not now that anger had been brought into the room. "Let me get this straight. I work at least ten to twelve hours a day, usually five days a week but we both know I never get a full weekend off. Then I come home, try and summon even an ounce of energy to give you the attention you deserve before collapsing into sleep and starting all over. Where, in that little scenario, did I stop trying, Gin?"

The use of his nickname for her did nothing and she stood up, too. "Excuse me? You gave up months ago, Harry, and don't you dare try and pull the 'I work hard' excuse on me – you _like _working hard. You told Hobbs that you are available whenever he needs you! Why was that, again? Please, enlighten me." Ginny folded her arms across her chest, the spitting image of her mother and she saw the change in Harry; there was now a hint of fear in his face.

"We needed the money." He said bluntly and Ginny laughed loudly.

"Rubbish! You didn't want to be around me any more, did you? You were sick of our life. How boring it must be that the Chosen One ended up stuck in some pesky flat with his high school crush; do they make jokes about it, at work? Tease you?" Her voice took a harsh turn but she couldn't help herself. Anger was coursing through her body; how dare he try and make her look like the one to blame in this. "For someone who hated the fame as a kid, I'm surprised you let it dictate you now!"

"Dictate me?" It was Harry's turn to laugh now and he left the kitchen, storming out in spectacular fashion and stomping up the stairs. Ginny quickly followed and she found him in their room, flinging his clothes onto the bed. "You think I let it dictate me? Thanks a lot, Ginny, truly."

"So, you're telling me that you didn't tell Hobbs you could work whenever he wanted you to?"

"Of course I did, but not for the reasons you're suggesting!" In anger, he pulled an entire draw out and dumped it on the bed. Ginny sat on the end and glowered at him. "Do you honestly think I got sick of our life together?"

"Yes. I do. And I think it started a long time ago, too. No matter what I tried, you didn't respond"

"What you tried? I took you to Paris!" He screamed and Ginny was sure the neighbours were listening in; she uttered a charm that would stop their sound from leaving the room. It would instead reverberate between them – accusations flying back and forth, never really landing anywhere.

"Oh, how could I forget? You spent the entire weekend flitting back and forth between there and work!" Ginny stared at him, unable to believe he even brought up their 'romantic' weekend. He seemed at a loss for what to say in reply, but instead picked up his wand and gave it a flick. His trunk flew into the room and little by little, Ginny watched Harry pack his life with her into it. When he was finished, the only things left in the room were hers; the photos of their life together he had put into an empty drawer. "Where are you going?"

"I don't know. A hotel somewhere." Like the air leaving a balloon, the room around them deflated. Anger, hurt, and pain left, only to be replaced with sadness. "You never answered my question."

Ginny looked up at him, tears pricking at her eyes for the second time that morning and she blinked them back. She knew what question he was referring to but she raised her eyebrows and asked, "What question?"

The finality with which he looked at her almost made her shiver. There was only sadness in his eyes, any trace of anger have disappeared in moments. He looked physically pained when he spoke the question again. "Do you still love me?"

The five words sat between them and they paused, the only sound being that of their breathing. The trunk sat lifeless on the floor with Harry stood next to it, poised and ready to leave; Ginny's answer to the question would push him to either leave or stay. She gave herself time to answer, wiping away the few tears that had formed and sniffing loudly. It was blatantly obvious to both in the room that she was stalling but neither seemed to care. The situation felt movie-like; the climax of a tragic romance about to come crashing down, for Ginny had known her answer to that question for months now. She couldn't bring herself to say the word, and offered up a measly apology instead.

"I'm sorry." Harry had known it was coming; as soon as it had slipped out of Ginny's mouth, he vanished on the spot, trunk in tow.

Ginny fell back onto the bed and let out a breath. Closing her eyes, she was startled to find that she didn't feel anything. There was no great sadness, no urge to burst into tears until the early hours of the morning. It felt cold admitting it to herself but Ginny only felt relief. They had been pretending for so long that it had put a strain on her and she hadn't even realised it; now there was nothing left to feel. She smiled softly to herself; it needed to happen and she felt good that it had. She did not feel heartless – they both had known that it couldn't go on forever the way that it had been, and she was not selfish for thinking about herself in that respect. Ginny felt clear-headed at the thought of moving on to new things.

The smile didn't last long, however. A flash of red hair, and a loud thump: it was Ron.

* * *

Okay, so I haven't written HP in a little while. I was getting a little tired of my usual ship of Harry and Ginny, and decided to do something a little different; Ginny and an OC. Please review and let me know what you think, any ideas etc etc. It's all appreciated! Short start, I know, but I wanted to see what people thought to begin with. Thank you for reading!


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