Who: Harry & Ginny What: Somewhere to spend the night. Where: Ginny's flat. When: Thursday night. Warnings: TBD? Status: In progress.
They'd kept Ginny overnight at the hospital to keep an eye on her because of her concussion, not letting her get much rest for fear she wouldn't wake up. It wasn't until the next day that she'd found out about everyone; George, Bill, Fleur. It had been enough to almost break her again, and it probably would have if it weren't for the support of her family. They'd all ended up around Bill's room, clustered together, praying for him to wake up, crying over their losses. It was comforting but at the same time, it was too much; watching them all worry, watching them grieve, seeing Fred. Ginny needed space, she needed to be able to rest. Was that greedy or selfish? She wasn't sure, but it was true.
It had only just occurred to her that she could finally go back to her flat. The people who had been hunting for them were both dead, and presumably that meant she didn't have to hide anymore. So she'd gone back to her flat, which had been empty for months. At least the spells had kept the dust off, though it did have an odd, un-lived-in feel to it, even if it still looked like home. Ginny had only been home for maybe fifteen minutes before she saw Harry's question. The answer was obvious. Of course he could come. It was almost sad in a way. Harry had never seen her flat before, seen the home she'd made for herself. In the past she'd envisioned him coming home, knocking on her door and sweeping her up in his arms... it wouldn't be like that though. But he'd be here, and just having him there would be better than any dream.
Changing finally out of the clothes she'd worn into battle and something more comfortable, Ginny paced around her flat as she waited for Harry to come. She'd tried to sit down on the couch moments before, but she couldn't. She just couldn't. There was a mirror right across from it, with pictures in the crack around the edges. She could see bright red hair everywhere; George with Fred, Bill with Fleur... it was too much. How could they be dead, they couldn't be dead!
Tired and drained, Ginny moved to the kitchen instead, pouring herself a glass of water from the sink and just staring out the window as she sipped at her drink.