Harry Potter Breaking The Chains

Harry smiled a sad smile and stood up. "Thanks, Gin," he said as he held a hand out to her. She took the proffered hand and was hoisted to her feet. "Come on. I think that's enough for tonight. Let's head back up to the common room before people start to wonder where we are."

"Ok Harry," she said. A mischievous glint appeared in her eyes as she asked "Am I allowed to walk down the hall with you? Or might that tip people off about our secret meeting?"

"Oh don't be silly," Harry replied with a straight face. "If anybody asks we can just say we were snogging in a broom cupboard." He held the door open for her, his countenance never faltering.

She stared at him with her mouth hanging open for a second before regaining her composure. "In your dreams, Potter," she retorted playfully.

"I wish. I'd kill for dreams like that." Harry responded flirtatiously, throwing in a wink for good measure.

"I don't know what to do with this new side of you. I mean, Harry Potter flirting shamelessly… what is the world coming to?"

Harry playfully pushed her in the shoulder, sending a cheeky grin her way. She returned the attack by dropping a shoulder into his side. They good-naturedly bantered back and forth all the way to the common room.

.....

That night Ginny had a lot to think about as she laid in bed staring at the canopy. She had decided to call it an early night to collect her thoughts, so she was alone in the dormitory with Em cuddled up to her side, purring contentedly as Ginny stroked her black fur. A lot had happened the past couple of days. First there was Harry. Well it was really all about Harry, she amended herself. She couldn't believe what she was seeing when he first walked over to them on the platform at King's Cross. That was definitely not the Harry Potter that she had last seen a couple months earlier.

For one thing, he was wearing clothes that actually fit him, muggle clothes that fit him. He always had wizarding clothes that fit, but his muggle clothes were always ridiculously large and baggy. The difference was astounding. But it was more of what the fitting clothes were showing off that really made the difference. This was not the scrawny boy that had first captured her heart four years earlier. This was Harry Potter, man, with muscles and all. And his hair… He had always had adorable hair that would never lie flat on his head. It was boyish and added to that innocent boy-next-door image he had. That image was long gone. The dark locks of hair framed his face, and for once he wasn't desperately trying to hide the scar on his forehead. His hair reached to about his shoulders, and it added to his new look wonderfully.

She just couldn't help the reaction that he had on her. Her heart skipped a beat, and her jaw dropped to the ground. If not for the scar on his forehead and his brilliant green eyes, she might not have recognized him. She looked into his eyes expecting to find sadness and emptiness in the emerald depths; instead she saw a mischievous glint there as he signaled for her to keep quiet. Definitely not the boy they had left a couple months back. That boy was depressed and moody and looked as if he was in the company of dementors. This man, Harry Potter, was full of life. The way he approached them and completely caught both Ron and Hermione off guard was priceless. She had told him she didn't think she'd laughed that hard all summer, but in reality, she wasn't sure she had ever laughed that hard. And with brothers like Fred and George around, that was saying something.

She hadn't been sure what to expect of him, really. They had been writing back and forth to each other all summer, of course. But they had never really spoken much in person. And she wasn't sure how he'd really be in person. He always sounded like he was doing well in his letters, but it's a lot easier to pass yourself off as fine in a letter than it is in person. Her fears appeared to be ungrounded as he seemed even better than normal.

When Ron and Hermione had finally come back to their senses and greeted him properly, she had paused, unsure of how to greet him. After all their letters she felt like she was being reunited with an old friend, but he wasn't really an old friend. The only time he'd ever hugged her was in the Chamber at the end of her first year. She wasn't sure if she should hug him or just say hi or shake his hand or what. But he had solved that for her.

When she threw his arms around his neck and took a breath of air as he held her close, she had gotten a flash of déjà vu, as though she had been in this position before. It was a feeling of familiarity. She shook off that feeling though. It was silly, really, to think that she had recently been in his arms. She hadn't seen him in months, and she hadn't gotten a hug from him in years.

When they finally got moving, he had offered to take her trunk. She felt bad for him as she accepted his help. The trunk was really heavy. She really didn't want to have to lug it around, and he was most definitely stronger than she was, so she didn't feel too bad about it. But he hadn't struggled with the trunk at all. And he had even managed to get it into the overhead compartment on his own. Last year Fred and George had teamed up to accomplish that feat. She was impressed, to say the least.

When they finally sat down in the compartment they had quickly fallen into conversation. She began to tell her story of Diagon Alley. As she started to tell him about her savior, something in her mind seemed to click. All of a sudden that feeling of déjà vu made sense to her. Harry was her savior. She didn't know how, but she was sure of it. He was the same height, same build, same hair except for the color. Different eye color, but the panther's eyes had been green and not just any green, but his green. Em's eyes were similar to Harry's, but as she thought back to the panther, she could tell that those weren't just like Harry's; they matched Harry's exactly. That couldn't be a coincidence. He had probably just found a way to change his hair color and eye color. She wanted to kill Neville and Luna when they barged in and ended that conversation. She was sure that it had been Harry, but she wanted needed to hear it from him. She wouldn't be getting any answers until she got Harry alone, and she didn't know when she'd be able to manage that.

She had thought a lot about her mysterious savior in the few weeks it had been since the attack in Diagon Alley. A perfectly natural thing to wonder about, she would tell herself. He was quite handsome and strong, and he had saved her life. When he had held her in his arms, a feeling of safety had washed over her. It wasn't just a physical safety, but more the feeling of safety that only a loved one in whom you had placed absolute trust could invoke. There were only three people who had ever made her feel like that before: her dad, her oldest brother Bill, and Harry.

She had felt invariably drawn to this mystery man and had not known what to make of it at the time. A part of her was glad that she felt a real spark for someone besides Harry. Even though she had dated Michael Corner last year, she had never felt herself drawn to him like she always had Harry. He was the first boy to show an interest in her as a woman, but she had never really felt strongly for him, and even when she was with him, Harry was never far from her thoughts.

It always made her wonder about her true feelings for Harry. Did she love him? Was it really possible to know that when she barely even knew him? She could never really tell why she felt the way she did about Harry. Sure she could give quite a list of his more redeeming qualities, but it didn't really explain the pull that she felt. She had been attracted to him the first time she laid eyes on him, the scrawny 11 year old at King's Cross station who didn't know how to get to platform 9 ¾. It was his eyes that did it. When she looked into his eyes, everything else had melted away.

When she felt that same pull toward this stranger, it had definitely given her some food for thought. It was like a breath of fresh air for her. She loved Harry dearly, in one way or another, but she had become sick of pining over him over the years. Yet she could never really shake her feelings for him no matter how hard she tried. To finally feel that same attraction for another man had given her hope that even if things never worked out with Harry, she could still be happy.

Then that boy had to go and muck it all up again. Of course she felt a pull to this stranger because he wasn't a stranger at all. He was Harry. She must have somehow known it was him on a subconscious level. How she knew this was beyond her, but it was the only explanation she could come up with.

....

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