My Knight, My Harry by Leonheart666



Summary: Taken From Chapter 34 of Deathly Hallows - The Forest Again. Ginny reflects on the one man in her life. PARTNER TO "MY ENDINGS ARE NEVER HAPPY."
Rating: R starstarstarstarhalf-star
Categories: Post-DH/AB
Characters: None
Genres: None
Warnings: None
Challenges: None
Series: None
Published: 2007.11.26
Updated: 2009.04.28


Index

Chapter 1: My Knight
Chapter 2: My Harry
Chapter 3: Lost Again
Chapter 4: Anywhere You Go


Chapter 1: My Knight

Author's Notes: Written as a partner to "My Endings Are Never Happy", taken from Deathly Hallows - Chapter 34.


Have you ever had this feeling that there is someone watching over you? Someone who would give their life to save yours? Someone who would selflessly come after you when you’re in pain or on the brink of death itself? Yet that someone doesn’t even acknowledge you exist and love him?

I’m sure most people have. The feeling is incredible, knowing that that someone will always hold you in highest regard and always come to your rescue.

But then he destroys you himself by not noticing the one thing you want him to see.

Take my life for instance. When I was ten years old, I met the boy of my dreams. Admittedly, at ten years old, it could have been any boy. But very few boys have the impact that this one boy had.

It wasn’t romantic. Far from it, actually, he was simply lost and needed help from my mum, but that’s not the point. One look at him and I was a goner, lost to the monster of love.

He was almost my height, despite being a year older, so you can imagine how small he must have been. And thin too, almost to the point where he could be described as scrawny. Most girls probably wouldn’t (and didn’t) look twice at him, but I did, because there was something about him.

He had this mass of jet black hair lying atop his head, sticking out at odd angles. He’d kill me if he heard me say it, but he looked almost like a peacock trying to attract a mate. It worked, that’s for sure. I was attracted instantly.

Under the hair were these piercing green eyes. They were so sweet and innocent, but powerful at the same time. They captivated me right away, and I couldn’t help but look into them, try and catch their attention so they might turn their gaze on me. Still, I think if they had looked into mine, I might have died. They really were that amazing.

He was possibly the cutest thing you could have ever seen, lost, confused, in a different world to what he was used to. But there was confidence about the way he talked. His voice was a joy to listen to. I think I could have sat and listened to him talk all day long and well into the night, before falling asleep into his embrace.

It’s a childish fantasy, I know, but I was a child after all.

The year after I met him was plagued with thoughts of him. There was no hope for me, though, he was an eleven year old boy, and he didn’t want relationships. Worst of all, I was his best mate’s little sister. Ron would have killed him.

I remember having a glimmer of hope at one point. Mum got a letter from Ron, stating quite clearly that Harry, the boy from the platform, was his best friend. The joy this brought me was huge. I couldn’t believe my luck. There I was, thinking of ways to attract his attention when I went to school next year, and Ron had already done all the work for me. Now, it was just a matter of winning him over.

In my head, my first year was going to be amazing. I’d learn tons of things about magic, make loads of new friends, and possibly even catch a certain boy. Yes, Harry was definitely part of my plans.

But it all went wrong. He came over the summer before my first year and I couldn’t even talk in front of him. It was so embarrassing, but every time he entered the room, I’d do something stupid, like stick my elbow in the butter dish, or knock the contents of my breakfast flying into the air.

Really smooth, don’t you think?

But I was completely hung up on him. It was part of my plan, to get him to be mine. Saying that, nothing else went right that year, so why should this.

The Chamber of Secrets. I don’t like to think about it. Not that I can help it much, the damn thing just won’t leave me. I wish I could be free of the terrors that I had that year, but I can’t.

I thought I was going insane. Every day, I wrote in this diary, my only friend in the castle, and it wrote back. I’d tell it everything, especially things about Harry. But sometimes, after I wrote in it, I couldn’t remember what I did next. There was this blank spot in my memory where I could have been anywhere. Then I’d wake up, and I’d be somewhere but not remember how I got there, and I’d be covered in something or another. Rooster feathers, water, even blood.

When the school caretaker’s cat was petrified on Halloween, I was scared. I couldn’t remember where I went that night. Apparently I wasn’t at the feast, so I could have been anywhere. My brothers all thought it was because I was a cat lover, but I was upset because I thought it was me who almost killed it.

Then the attacks kept happening. Colin Creevey, a boy in my class, was attacked when he went out to visit Harry after a Quidditch accident. I should have been in bed, but one of my dorm mates said I wasn’t, so I might have done it again.

When Justin was attacked, I knew there was something wrong. I couldn’t remember what I was doing again. I started to wonder what it could be. Then it struck me. The diary always seemed so interested in the Chamber of Secrets, and what it was doing to the school. It didn’t take a genius to work it out. I tried to get rid of the diary by flushing it down the girls’ toilets on the second floor.

The next couple of months went smoothly. Well, almost smoothly. Two shocking things happened on one of the worst days of the year, Valentine’s Day. I say one of the worst days because when you don’t have someone you can be all lovey-dovey and cuddly with, it’s miserable.

That and I demonstrated that I am definitely insane.

I sent Harry a singing valentine, and the stupid dwarf-cupid-thing sang it in front of a corridor full of people! I was so embarrassed. Also, at that moment, I decided I was never going to write songs.

So there I was, embarrassed so much by the dwarf singing that ridiculous song, when I saw it. In Harry’s bag was the diary. Riddle’s diary. How he’d got his hands on it I couldn’t fathom, but he had it and that was all that mattered. What if he figured out how to use it? All the things I told it, and Harry would know it all. He’d know all these girlish fantasies I had about him and me running away into the sunset together, hand in hand, or snuggled up together in a nice cosy bed, or us kissing each other gently every now and again.

No, he couldn’t know, I had to get it back before he figured it out, providing he hadn’t already. That night he was in his dorm the whole time, so I couldn’t do it right there and then, but I knew it had to be soon. Trouble is it was tough finding a time when no-one was there. Finally, I settled for one of his Quidditch practises. I managed it the day before the Quidditch game, not nearly soon enough. By that time he’d surely have found out all my secrets. Still, it had to do.

The match day was horrible. Hermione was the next victim, along with another girl, and people were saying they didn’t see me at the match. I didn’t know what I was doing, as usual, and it just scared me more. I remember thinking that I had to tell someone, and who better than Harry, who probably knew everything about me anyway.

I was all set to tell him everything as soon as he walked back into the common room after the match. Then he came in, and all the courage I’d built up faded to nothing. I couldn’t do it. One look at his dejected face, normally so happy and full of life, and I think It would have been easier to kiss him than talk to him, which let me tell you, would never be easy.

No, I couldn’t lay more stress on his shoulders. So I waited. I waited a full three weeks, and then I plucked up the courage to tell him and my brother, Ron.

I was about to come out with it at breakfast, when the idiot Percy jumped in. there was no way I’d talk in front of Percy. I was barely ready to talk to Harry and Ron, let alone another of my annoying brothers. So I ran. I ran up the stairs and found the only thing that could console me.

And I don’t remember anything else after that. Nothing at all. It’s just a blank part of my mind. Days could have passed for all I knew. But eventually, I came around, and the sight that greeted me was amazing.

Harry Potter, the boy of my dreams, smiling down at me, a sword in his hand. My heroic saviour, my knight in shining armour. It wasn’t the typical view that a young girl gets of a brave man who would risk his life for her, with a white horse, helmet and castle, but at least I definitely knew he would risk his life for me.

He was covered in blood, from head to toe, his and some that was a deep green in colour. He was visibly sweating, his hair plastered down onto his forehead. It’s possibly the first time I’d seen it almost tamed.

My eyes travelled down his body, and landed on his arm, which he was holding with his other hand. Running down it, racing the blood and the sweat, was another liquid, copious in its amount of pouring from a large wound.

Poison.

My saviour, my knight, my Harry, had been struck down in the effort it took to save me. He was going to die for me. It wasn’t a girlish dream, it was real.

And I suddenly realised I didn’t want that dream anymore.

I didn’t want my Harry sacrificing himself for me. I wasn’t worth that. I wasn’t worth him even coming down to that disgusting place and working up a sweat, let alone death.

But he was going to.

My memory blanked out again. I don’t think it had anything to do with the diary this time. I think my whole world had crashed down around me, and wiped everything from my mind. I didn’t see what happened in the few seconds I spaced out, but the next thing I knew, Harry was standing before me, holding out his injured arm to help me up. I took his hand gently, determined not to hurt his wound.

But the wound was gone.

In the short time where I forgot to use my eyes, Harry had healed his wound. He was going to live. I’d have jumped on him, but I was so afraid he was going to hate me for what I did. I remember stammering some things which even I didn’t understand, let alone him. And he comforted me.

Harry Potter comforted me.

I grabbed his arm tightly as we walked out of the large tunnel together. I didn’t want to let go of him. I was scared, not for my life, but for his. I thought I’d lost him.

The rest of the year passed without incident, and my first year was over. Only, it didn’t feel like it was. Perhaps it’s because I didn’t remember half of it.

So summer came, and I was sent back to the Burrow with nothing but my brothers to keep me company. I didn’t have the one person that I wanted to be with me. Harry Potter was not there.

So many times, I picked up a quill and started writing some sort of letter to him. But thank you didn’t seem to work, and anything else I was too scared to put quill to parchment, let alone send it off. So I didn’t send him anything.

I got my hopes up a little too much when I was thinking that he might write me a letter. He didn’t, I got nothing from him either. I consoled myself by saying he was having the same trouble that I was, and couldn’t put what he wanted to say into words.

I was deluding myself. He didn’t like me, and I shouldn’t hold my breath for him ever liking me. My second year basically flew by in a haze of hope and disappointment, because the boy who saved my life, and nearly died to do so, didn’t have the courage to ask me out.

He wasn’t going to ask me out, that much was simple. My third year he had the perfect chance, but no, he was all strung up on Cho to do it. Because she’s beautiful, a good quidditch player, smart and makes guys fawn over her as soon as she walks into a room, and I’m none of those things. I’m this little, ugly, freckled unpopular girl who has six brothers all likely to hex the bits off any boy who touches me. Who’s going to want that? Certainly not the amazing Harry Potter.

He got turned down by Cho to the Yule Ball. I shouldn’t feel happy really, I should’ve been sad for him, but I really felt so happy. I thought perhaps he’d ask me, but no, I had to say I was going with Neville. Then again, Ron shouldn’t have suggested it. Harry should have. Harry didn’t want to go with me, and he never would.

So in my fourth year I had to take action and get over him. He didn’t deserve me. I’d become good friends with Michael Corner since the Yule Ball, and I finally found a boy who had the courage to ask me, and get over his stupid pride. I instantly accepted.

He and I were never going to be perfect. It was my first relationship, and I was strung up on Harry. Still, I did my best. I tried my hardest to get over this stupid crush on Harry, which I’d had for too many years. I wanted to live my life, and I was going to.

When Michael kissed me, it wasn’t what I was expecting. All the girls in my dorm had talked about first kisses, how they were so special, but this didn’t bring any emotions to me at all. No, in fact, it made me feel downright miserable. It wasn’t Harry that had done it. It was Michael Corner, who would never give his life up for me.

When Michael dumped me it was such a relief. I could breathe again. Being in the wrong relationship isn’t fair on either of you, but I didn’t have the bottle to end it. Finally, when he had a go at me for beating Ravenclaw at Quidditch, I snapped, and left him. He went off to comfort Cho, who had messed up her chances with Harry.

Why could my ex and his ex get together, but not me and him?

So I tried again. This time it was my turn to go for it, not like with Michael, where he did everything. I went for Dean, one of Harry’s mates. He wasn’t Harry, not brave, gorgeous and all around amazing, but he wasn’t bad.

And I led it. I instigated everything. From starting the relationship, to first kiss, I did it all. Thing is, he had this annoying habit of trying to help me with everything I did, like I was disabled or something. I didn’t need the help, and I didn’t want it. Eventually I snapped with him too, and he became the second victim of Ginny Weasley.

So I went back to Harry. I and he had become such good friends over the months, especially when he had fallen out with Ron or Hermione, or they fell out with each other. But I never expected what happened next.

We finished the Quidditch match, the last game of the season. I was seeker, and I’d won the game for us. Unfortunately, Harry wasn’t even there to see it. He was in a detention with Snape. But we won, and we were partying in the common room, when everything went deadly silent.

I knew it had to be him coming. I waited, ready to erupt with everyone else. When the portrait hole opened, and he stepped in, the noise was deafening. But I tuned out of it. I ran forward and jumped into his arms.

And he held me closer than Michael or Dean had ever done. I found it amazing how his arms seemed to wrap around me exactly right. And slowly, I watched as he leaned forward and kissed me.

I was in shock, and didn’t respond for a second, but then I was kissing him back in earnest. This was what a first kiss should have been like. Tender, loving, and amazing. I could actually feel the love, which I could never do with anyone else. It was perfect.

Unfortunately, the next month flew by, and before I knew it, we were in battle. Harry had gone off, leaving me worried sick, and then the huge fight broke out, leaving our headmaster dead.

I could feel the loss that Harry felt every time I held him. He was broken, defeated. It was horrible watching him moping around, with no sense of direction.

Then, at Dumbledore’s funeral, he dashed my hopes.

He ended it.

Said that he had to or I’d be in danger. He never thought that no matter what, he had feelings for me, and it didn’t matter if it was open or not, I was in danger. No, all that mattered was that he felt guilty. I could have hit him. I could have cried for weeks. But I didn’t, I held strong, somehow.

My knight was gallantly riding off into battle once again.

Yet I knew he’d come back to me.

After all, he was my Harry.

A/N: sorry about the cheesy ending, but I thought it necessary. Cheesy endings are always necessary. a second chapter will be on the way soon. thanks for reading, hope you come back for more.

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Chapter 2: My Harry

As I watched my boyfriend’s retreating back, I only had one thing on my mind. And I think I’ll always remember it.

Come back to me Harry. I’ll wait forever, but please come back to me.

I couldn’t stop my mind from wandering to the worst possible thoughts. I had no doubt that Harry would definitely come back to me, but in what state was another question. Physically, I didn’t care. He could come back after being mauled by several hippogriffs and I wouldn’t leave him. I’d take him back no matter how he looked when he came out of it at the end.

Mentally, I knew Harry could never come home without scars to his mind. No, he was going to come back in bad condition mentally. I tried not to imagine myself after the Chamber, but it still haunted me even four years later. What sort of horrors would Harry see on his quest? It didn’t bare thinking about.

No, it could be a lot worse than mental or physical scars. When I next saw him, he could be motionless, pale, those beautiful eyes staring blankly into nothingness, turned cold and grey. What would I do if there was nothing left of him but an empty shell, a corpse with no life?

Worst thing was, it could easily happen, and I knew it.

Still, this was Harry Potter, and Harry Potter is no ordinary boy. The Boy Who Lived. The Chosen One. Perhaps there is something in those names that the papers keep giving him. I only hope they will keep calling him The Boy Who Lived when the dust settles.

But in the end, I’ll just keep calling him My Harry.

As soon as the funeral was done, everyone was taken home. Harry returned to Privet Drive, where he would be abused by his relatives as usual. I however, was going to go to the Burrow, where I would be looked after. Guilt didn’t help how I felt at that time.

Things were being planned all over the house. Firstly, we had the wedding to be planned, which was my mother’s department, but that didn’t stop her trying to rope everyone else into the equation. The major Order members could be seen plotting something as well, and in the short time I managed to eavesdrop, I knew it was to do with Harry. The final thing was a complete mystery to me. Ron got home, and almost locked himself in his room for the first week of summer. When Hermione came to the house, she too took to emerging only to use the bathroom. Of course, that’s all we found out. I think dad had an idea, but nobody else knew a thing, not even me.

The first thing to come to fruition was Harry’s rescue attempt. I was told my job, which was to make sure everyone got in safely and wait at home like a good little girl. I hated it, I didn’t see why I couldn’t go with them, but it was apparently too dangerous for little old me. Of course, the fact that I warded off an army of Death Eaters with only a group of five people helping fell on death ears. I was still too young, and it tore me apart.

So I was stuck at the Burrow, waiting for the first people to arrive. Ron should have been first, with Tonks, but his Portkey appeared and no-one was on the end of it. The same thing with Dad’s. The three of them, and Fred, could have been killed that night, and we wouldn’t even know. We wouldn’t find a body, they could have been anywhere. And it would leave our family destroyed.

But despite this, I was desperately waiting for the next Portkey, and my love. My Harry. He wouldn’t be long now. He and Hagrid would have made it back fine, I knew it.

And as soon as the thought came into my head, a bright blue flash could be seen. My heart fell, as the hairbrush came first, seemingly with no owner, but slowly, the forms of two people started to emerge and my heart skipped a beat. Seconds later, Harry was sitting on the floor of the Burrow, and I was dancing internally with joy, thanking some sort of spiritual being that graced us with such fortune. With a pang of guilt I realised that there was meant to be six people and there was only two. Still, nothing could betray my happiness now that my love was back

People flooded back into the house, and I barely paid attention to any of them, all my focus was on Harry. It wasn’t until the announcement of Mad-Eye’s death that I was brought back to my senses. However, it wasn’t the man’s death which perturbed me the most, it was the fact that it could have been any of them. It could have been my Harry who had been killed and never found. The very thought, even now, makes me shudder.

Harry’s birthday came about quicker than I expected, and I was fretting constantly about the fact I’d not been able to go out and get him something. He would understand, no doubt about that, but that’s not the point. The point was, it would look like I’d forgotten it. So I invited him into my room.

The kiss we shared was sweet and loving, exactly as I had planned it to be. It was the perfect gift for him to remember me by. I wasn’t scared he’d find someone else; I was scared he’d forget about me when the unthinkable happened.

The next plan that came about was Bill and Fleur’s wedding. And I was a bridesmaid. I did my best all day to look as beautiful as I could, for Harry. The dress I had was simple, because of course, nobody is supposed to outshine the bride on the wedding day, and especially not when the bride happens to be part Veela. But I knew I didn’t have to outshine Fleur for everyone, just Harry. I also knew it wouldn’t be too hard to do, but that didn’t stop me from pulling out all the stops.

The plan was simple; I just wanted to dance with Harry. It wasn’t too much to ask was it? Of course, this was messed up straight away by him using that stupid Polyjuice Potion to change himself into a Weasley look-alike. Not the most romantic thing possible. It just wouldn’t have felt right dancing with what appeared to be this boy I didn’t even know, no matter if it was Harry or not.

Secondly, the wedding was ruined. You could feel the fear in the air when Kingsley’s Patronus landed in the marquee, and it rose as soon as it began talking.

The ministry has fallen. Scrimgeour is dead. They are coming.

This statement was almost instantly followed by pops of Apparation all around, some by the visitors getting away, some by the new visitors just arriving. Death Eaters.

I searched for Harry as soon as it happened. I didn’t care if I was hurt in the process, I couldn’t see Harry getting injured, or worse. I wanted to protect him.

But as I looked, I couldn’t find him. It seemed as though he’d disappeared of the face of the planet. I knew he wouldn’t have been kidnapped, nobody could recognize him as Barney Weasley. So that left one option.

He’d left on his own. It seemed we finally learned what Ron was planning at the start of the summer. None of the trio could be found.

Where they’d gone, nobody knew. Everyone managed to drive the Death Eaters away from the Burrow, and there were no casualties. But the ensuing conversation soon came around to who was missing, and my dad announced what he knew.

He told us Harry, Ron and Hermione had to go look for something, and we were not to go after them. What they were doing was going to help bring Voldemort down. However, that was as far as his knowledge went. They all asked me if I knew anything, but I was crying too much to answer.

Harry was gone, and nobody knew where. Nobody could even protect him if he got into trouble. Ok, so Ron and Hermione were with him, but they can only do so much. To say I was scared was an understatement, I was bloody terrified.

And I didn’t get my dance with him.

I didn’t hear anything from Harry for weeks. My birthday went, and no sign from him, Ron or Hermione, not even a card. Not that I expected anything, but a girl is allowed to dream, isn’t she?

And dream I did. Every night I dreamed of his return. I didn’t know where he was, what he was doing, but I just wanted him home.

Alive.

I remember just a couple of days after Bill and Fleur’s wedding, Remus turned up and told us he’d seen Harry. I’d begged him for hours to tell me where, but he said it was down to Harry to tell people. Didn’t anybody understand that I had the right just to see he was ok? Lupin’s word wasn’t enough for me; I needed to see him, to touch him. And I would be fine then.

School started, and I felt very empty as I sat with Luna and Neville on the train. Normally, Harry, Ron and Hermione would be with us, but they weren’t and it felt like there was a huge hole in the compartment. Of course, Malfoy came around, and I just wasn’t in the mood. He wasn’t happy either after he had my Bat Bogey hex for the second time in his life.

I could barely pay attention to any of my lessons. My mind simply wasn’t tuned for thinking anything but Harry. I felt so helpless. There was nothing I could do and I hated it.

All the time I’d been fighting alongside Harry. Fourth year, and I joined him to try and save Sirius in the Department of Mysteries. Fifth year I fought at Hogwarts and defended it, one of the few students that did. But now, as Harry faced his toughest challenge, I couldn’t even hold him when things got hard.

Then Neville approached me, a couple of weeks into the year. Everyone knew he was trying to make a stand, and he was being punished for it. But he wanted me to help. He wanted to rebuild the DA and fight against the intruders in the school. There was a fire in his eyes like I’d never seen from him. I’d only ever seen that spark from Harry. I could tell he was serious, and whether I said yes or no, he was going to try. I didn’t have to think about it.

We started off pretty simple. Just trying to piss off the new teachers really. Being deliberately awkward. There wasn’t really a day where we didn’t have a detention, but I and Neville always had them together, so it was bearable. Soon, we had a whole host of people on our side, fighting against the Carrows and Snape. It felt liberating to actually have something to fight for, instead of feeling stuck with nowhere to go, like when Harry left me.

The punishments were severe. I had the Cruciatus curse used on me more times than I could count, and it wasn’t a gentle casting either. They normally got someone really skilled on me and Neville, because we were the main trouble makers, but we never gave in. I actually began to enjoy the punishments, in some sick, masochistic way. It stopped the pain for Harry from welling up inside me until I burst. Instead, I burst under the unforgivable curse. Now, I see it as some sort of learning experience. I’ve felt the Cruciatus curse at its worst, not a lot can hurt much more than that.

Neville and I decided we had to step it up in order to make a real impression on the Carrows. So far, simple insults may have wound them up, but we never did anything too bad. Now however, was the time. We didn’t have much to lose after all.

We started with a true round up of people to our cause. Everyone who used to be in the DA agreed instantly, and we even managed to get some others in on the act. Soon, the Carrows had an army of fifty students, led by me, Neville and Luna, on their hands. Sometimes, an entire class would be able to gang up on one of the teachers, and that’s when they really paid. It wasn’t unusual for two Carrows to take one lesson.

But other things needed to be done too. Several things in Hogwarts were priceless artifacts, and could be put in harm’s way if the Carrows and Snape got their grubby hands on them.

I personally, had an attachment to the sword of Gryffindor, which hung in the headmaster’s office. It had saved my life when on the end of Harry’s arm, and I couldn’t let it be damaged. It was also the only relic left of Gryffindor himself. So I chose that as my target artifact. I, Neville and Luna went for it. We managed to sneak into Snape’s office at dinner and tried to take it. Typically though, with Snape being the greasy git that he is, he walked in on us.

Bastard.

The only thing that stopped us was when we came back from the Christmas holidays. We arrived back, heads held high, looking to create more mischief against the Carrows, and we noticed something was gone. Then we heard all about it from a Ravenclaw girl who was Luna’s friend.

Luna had been taken away, apparently immediately after she stepped off the train at the start of the holidays. I couldn’t believe I’d missed it. But now, we definitely missed her. It’s surprising how good that girl’s mind is when it comes to making people pay.

So we had to slow down slightly with our escapades. We didn’t stop, but we returned to how we were before, harassing people whenever the opportunity arose, and generally causing mayhem when possible. I was so happy to grow up as the sister of Fred and George. They taught me so much.

The time seemed to fly by incredibly fast. Soon, it was Easter, and I was taken home to the Burrow. I didn’t realise that this was the last time I’d go to Hogwarts. I was taken to Aunt Muriel’s, and hidden away from the world. I didn’t even get a chance to tell Neville I was going anywhere.

Once again I felt left out of everything. The mayhem we caused at Hogwarts, and the subsequent punishments, had taken away the feeling that Harry left me with. The feeling that I was indeed useless. Just a small child in a game for adults, where all the rules were designed to stop me from doing anything. I couldn’t even leave the house, or write letters to anyone. I had nothing to keep me from wallowing in my self-pity.

I’d heard nothing about Harry since Professor Lupin told us he was safe at Grimmauld Place. I was still so scared that he wasn’t coming back to me. I didn’t know whether he was alive or dead. There was nothing in the news, no rumors, no word from him. Nothing at all.

Until one day, Bill apparated in to the front room, a huge smile on his face. He said just one sentence.

“Harry’s at Shell Cottage”

Then I jumped on him and squeezed the life out of him. It was the news I’d been waiting for. I begged him to take me to my Harry, but he refused, saying that Harry needed time alone. He wouldn’t go into specifics, but I knew better than to argue with Bill. He was the oldest and most down-to-earth brother, and I knew he wouldn’t deny me unless it was necessary.

Apparently, Harry stayed at Shell Cottage for a few weeks. Bill gave us regular updates whenever he came over, but he refused to allow anyone to see him, saying Harry had wished it. I don’t know if it was the truth or if Bill knew what I did.

I knew if Harry saw me, he’d want to stop whatever he was doing and come home to us. He wouldn’t be able to stand it. He may be strong, but Harry was thrown in to this unwillingly, and he’d give anything to get out of it. His resolve could have crumbled any second, and Bill didn’t want that.

So I waited, like a good little girl, helpless and alone. I tried my best to keep myself busy, but unsuccessfully, and my mind always wandered back to those deep green eyes, and the messy, black hair.

My Harry.

I couldn’t wait until I had him back in my arms.

So then imagine my horror when Bill turned up and said Harry had left. He’d just disappeared with a Goblin, Hermione and Ron. Merlin knows what they were doing. A Goblin would suggest Gringott’s but exactly what, was a mystery. Bill knew nothing about it apparently, and had only advised Harry to be careful with the Goblin.

Another couple of days of anxiety passed, when I felt a burning in my pocket. Neville was trying to contact me using the secret coins Hermione developed for the DA. I looked at the message.

“HARRY’S BACK, WE’RE FIGHTING”

I rushed to Fred and George, the only people in the house with me, and showed them straight away. They didn’t say a word, but grabbed their wands and got in contact with mum and dad, before grabbing me and heading for Hogsmeade.

We apparated directly into Aberforth’s pub, the Hog’s Head, and walked straight into the passageway leading to the Room of Requirement. Behind us, the air was filled with pops as others apparated to the pub. They all followed us along the passageway, wands drawn, stern looks on their faces.

I felt uplifted with the support that people were showing Harry. The fact that they had received the message was a mean feat, as I expected most to have thrown their coins away or spend them. But no, everyone here supported Harry, and was willing to die for him. Like he’d nearly died for so many people before.

I stepped out into the Room of Requirement, and there he was, standing before me. It wasn’t romantic, but like the first time at the train station, and when he saved me down in the Chamber, there was a huge sense of attraction towards him that no-one else would have ever seen.

He was covered in blood and boils where some previous heroic act had obviously made its mark. But like every time I saw him, he looked determined, and I knew this was the end of it all. He was going to finish it. And he was going to live through it.

Because he was My Harry.

He was asking about something to do with Ravenclaw, I didn’t really listen to the conversation too much; I was too concentrated on him. However, when Cho stood up to show My Harry to the Ravenclaw common room, I stepped in. Luna was the perfect candidate, not Cho Chang. Luna wasn’t going to attempt to steal Harry from me for a start. And Harry had less chance of being taken willingly with Luna. I couldn’t deny Cho’s beauty, and Harry’s attraction to her before. I wasn’t worried, but taking precautions.

When Harry left, we began to start talking strategy. Other people flooded into the room, members of the Order, who had received the message from Fred and George.

It seemed like and eternity before Harry came back, in the meantime I’d been told off by mum almost as many times as I had by the Carrows. Finally, Harry came to my rescue, as he normally did, and announced it was time to fight, to the cheering of the crowd. Everyone crowded out, and I tried to follow, but I wasn’t allowed. Too young, again. I was fighting Death Eaters when I was 14, but I’m not allowed to now I’m 16. That’s logic for you.

So I was left in the Room of Requirement, waiting, with Tonks and Neville’s Grandmother. Not the most pleasant experience of my life, and I was bored stupid, but at least I was safe. Of course, I was worried sick about Harry, who was out there fighting.

As soon as the thought crossed my mind, he came back in to us, and told me to leave. I don’t know why, but I was just happy to go out to the fight. Now I could go out there and prove how strong I really was, prove that I could fight and survive, and I wasn’t some silly little girl who needed protecting.

I stuck around with Tonks, because she told me to. She said mum would kill her if something happened, so I had to have her as an escort. I didn’t mind, Tonks was actually confident enough to let me out. I think if it wasn’t for my mother, she’d have let me go out alone.

We started by firing spells from the top floor. It wasn’t easy to pick out some of the small, ant-like targets and hit them spot on, but I proved I could do it when my first shot hit a green-light-firing Death Eater and he crumpled to the floor. Still, I and Tonks were limited in our movements, so we had to move. And there was only one way to go.

Down to the battlefield.

Tonks told me to watch out as we went, but soon shut up when I stunned a Death Eater who was dueling with Michael Corner. He shot me a swift smile, but I didn’t repay the favour, I was too concentrated on the battle.

I hoped beyond hope that Harry was ok. I didn’t see him anywhere, I could only assume he was still much higher up in the castle, doing whatever he had to do. I didn’t have much time to look for him, but the thought fuelled my emotions until I reached a stunning frenzy. Soon, Death Eaters began to realise how much damage I was doing to their ranks, and me and Tonks were pinned down by four of them.

Me and Tonks nodded to each other, and fired off two stunning spells, which hit their mark and the targets fell to the floor hard. A third stunner was shouted from somewhere over to my left, and I saw Remus rushing to his wife’s side. As the third Death Eater dropped, I heard the worst two words.

Avada Kedavra.

I turned towards the voice quickly, to see if I was going to die. But I wasn’t the one to receive the killing curse. It was aimed right at Tonks, and she couldn’t move. She was frozen in fear. I shouted as loud as I could, but nothing happened, as the green light streaked towards her.

I saw someone moving like the wind past me, and launch their body in front of Tonks. The green light hit Remus directly above his heart, and he was blasted back by the force, and lay there, unmoving. I rushed to his side, tears starting to flood my eyes. The battle had almost stopped for me. I only cared about my former professor now. He was gone.

Was this the fate for Harry too?

I heard a wail of fury and turned in shock to see Tonks racing after the Death Eater, who was laughing manically. The two of them left my sight and disappeared, racing into the night. I saw a singular flash of green, then silence. I knew someone must have been killed. I moved towards where they were slowly, and saw Tonks lying on the ground in a heap, no life moving behind her eyes. I bent down slowly, and closed her eyes so she could rest in peace.

I barely heard Voldemort’s call to put a halt to the battle, until he mentioned Harry’s name. He wanted Harry to give himself up to him. He wanted Harry to die. I felt helpless once again. Harry was being called out by the darkest wizard to ever have lived, and I couldn’t even find him to tell him not to go. No, I was helpless. I did the only thing I could do at the time. I pointed my wand at Tonks’s body and moved her over to her husband, then, with a feat of magical power I didn’t know I had, I lifted the two of them easily and levitated them into the Great Hall.

I saw the rest of my family huddled together in the centre of the hall, and presumed they were wondering about my death. I wasn’t with them, so they didn’t know what was happening. I slowly put Remus and Tonks down, and saw what my family was huddled around.

Fred was lying on the floor, pale, with eyes closed. His face was still pushed into a smile, like he was still laughing, like he always did in life. But there was no life, just a cold chill, which you’d never associate with a Weasley twin.

My whole world fell apart. I ran over to Bill and grabbed on to him around the waist, and cried into his shoulder. I felt his arm wrap around mine, and felt someone else stroking my hair.

Now that I was closer, I could properly see and hear everything. Mum was wailing, her body spread across Fred’s protectively. My dad knelt next to her, a hand on her back, the other stroking his sons face, silent tears falling down his own. Percy knelt on the other side of Dad, and was sobbing uncontrollably, but no tears seemed able to fall. He seemed to have cried himself out. Charlie sat at Fred’s head, a hand gripped in his brother’s hair. George had completely broken down, slightly apart from the body, he sat with his arms around his knees, and I could hear him muttering his twin’s name over and over. Bill and Ron were the ones who were holding me tight. I could hear them both crying, but they seemed too concentrated on me to be able to grieve properly.

I raised my head to the enchanted ceiling a let out a huge, grief ridden scream. The sound came as no shock to the other people in the hall, it wasn’t the first that had been sounded tonight. I screamed in agony until my lungs gave out, before turning my head away and pushing Bill and Ron off me.

Before I knew what I was doing, I was running. No-one protested, nobody said a word about me leaving. If they did, I didn’t hear it anyway. I couldn’t hear anything, everything had gone numb. My body had gone into autopilot and had carried me out of the Castle and into the night.

I stopped at the bottom of the stairs leading into the grounds and fell to my knees, sadness once again overcoming my body. Soon though, my tears had dried up. I couldn’t cry any longer.

Nearby, there was a great cry of pain, startling me out of my thoughts. I stood shakily and meandered over to where the noise had come from. Immediately, I wished I hadn’t. The sight that greeted me nearly made me throw up.

A girl lay spread-eagled on the ground. Her leg was broken, twisted at a funny angle away from her body, and blood stained the front of her robes. She looked no more than fifteen. A rebel fighter, who’d disobeyed the rules to fight for what she had believed was right, and paid the ultimate price.

I stepped over to her slowly, careful not to scare her and put any additional strain on her frail self. Carefully I knelt beside her, and she turned her head towards me. “My mother, have you seen her? Is she ok?” Her voice was diminishing, as though it was sapping her of all her energy.

“I’m sure she’s fine” I replied, brushing a strand of auburn hair off her forehead.

“I want my mother” she whispered softly. My heart broke for her. I knew nothing of this girls mother, but the carnage around me left little hope.

“It’s all right,” I said gently, “It’s OK. We’re going to get you inside”

The girls eyes widened, a look of pure fear taking over. I watched as she clearly tried to shake her head, but couldn’t move enough to complete the action. “but I want to go home,” she whispered to me, her voice breaking again. “I don’t want to fight any more!”

“I know,” I whispered back, not trusting myself to speak with a full voice. “It’s going to be all right”

I took her hand gently in mine and squeezed comfortingly. The girl moved her mouth again, as if trying to saying something else, but I shushed her, not wanting her to expend more energy. I whispered soft words of care into her ear.

Behind me, I heard the flick of a cloak, and my head spun around quickly. But nobody was there. My eyes screwed up as I scanned the night for a sign of anyone. My thoughts were brought back to the girl when I heard a great rattling breath. I spun back around, just as the girl stopped moving, her eyes rolled to the back of her head.

My heart broke, but I couldn’t cry. I’d done too much crying tonight. Slowly, I closed the girl’s eyes and said a soft goodbye, before lowering her limp hand across her chest. I stood and pulled out my wand, ready to do the difficult task of delivering the girl’s body to anyone who wanted it, if there was anybody left for this girl. I couldn’t help but think it might have been better for the girl to have no relative to collect the body. She’d be happy where she was now.

Slowly, I walked with the girl’s body floating carefully in front of me. I climbed the stairs, and entered the castle once more, making a bee-line for the Great Hall. As I walked in, no families ran to me, desperate to see their daughter. Nobody moved, except the small cluster of red-heads who looked in my direction. Slowly, I guided the young girl down to the edge of the room, and laid her out on the floor, quickly bending over and placing her arms across her chest as a last show of respect.

Then I broke, and ran back into the embrace of Bill, who welcomed me back with open arms. I listened as he whispered to me about great deeds, making the Weasley’s proud, and becoming a mature young woman.

It seemed like an eternity passed, before Neville, my partner in crime, came walking up to the family. He apologized for interrupting, but said he had to tell us all something. Eight tear stained faces whipped around to his, which looked close to breakdown too. He stumbled over the words before he managed to spit out.

“Harry’s gone to him, I saw him walking to the forest. He tried to lie to me but-“

The rest of his sentence was cut off by my screaming. I fell to my knees, gripping Bill around the legs as tight as I could and screamed to heaven.

My Harry had walked to his death.

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Chapter 3: Lost Again

The floor of the Great Hall was cold, perhaps simply because of the stone in the middle of the night, or maybe because of Death hanging around the large room, marveling at his work. I could almost see a thin, hooded figure, looming over me, skeletal hands thrown to the side as he laughed maniacally at my despair.

I felt a shuffling of bodies around me. Bill had disentangled himself from my arms without me noticing, and now knelt down right in front of my face. I felt Ron’s body press against my back as he wrapped his arms around me comfortingly. My other brothers stood about me, looking at me piteously. I could imagine all of them with tears running down their faces, either from their loss of Fred, or the new revelation.

Harry had walked to his death. Everyone knew it. He was just seventeen years old, whereas Voldemort was the strongest wizard alive today. We all knew it was over, and that My Harry wouldn’t be coming back, but nobody wanted to say it. Silence surrounded the group, as each of us imagined what could be happening to Harry right now.

My own thoughts were mixed. I’d given up on him coming back as soon as Neville had told us, but hope filled me still. Hope that it would be quick and painless. Hope that Harry had died without suffering, and that he’d been strong, standing upright, fighting, and not begging for mercy. It would be how Harry would have wanted it.

I don’t know how long I stayed on the floor, but I didn’t feel like moving in the near future, if indeed at all. My life was over now that Harry was gone. I had nothing left.

I remember an image that flashed in front of my eyes. It wasn’t one I could forget easily, that’s for sure. Harry’s face, looking up at me, blank and lifeless, a small amount of blood trickling from his nose. His green eyes without the usual sparkle they had when turned towards me. His black hair sticking out at odd angles, even more messy than it normally was.

After that image flashed through my brain, I reacted on impulse. My hand found my wand in an instant, and pulled it out slowly. My arm moved up, and pointed at its target.

I had pulled my wand on myself.

I knew the words I had to say. Two, simple words. I’d even heard them multiple times that night. I opened my mouth to say them, staring down the shaft of a loaded wand. But my mouth was dried up, and the words wouldn’t come. Finally, after an eternity, a hand rested on my forearm, bringing it down, and the thin piece of wood was slid out of my fingers.

Bill looked me dead in the eyes as he tucked the wand into his belt, saying: “Harry wouldn’t want that, Gin, you know it”

I nodded slowly. He wouldn’t. He’d want me to be strong, and hold my head up high, remembering him, but not losing myself over him. We’d never talked about what might happen, but I knew instinctively, he’d want me to go on living for him.

I stood up purposefully, surprising Bill and Ron into letting go of me. I brought my arm up and wiped my face clean of tears, before looking over to the door. He was out there. Had it happened yet? Were they still fighting it out? Or had Harry ran, leaving his destiny behind?

No, the last one wasn’t an option. It would never happen. Harry wasn’t the type to run from trouble. Harry was the type to stand up and face danger, no matter how great, and overcome it, so he could return to those who loved him.

But this time, danger might be too hard to overcome.

It felt like an eternity, waiting for any news. Twice I steadied myself to leave the room, but was stopped by Ron before I’d made the first step towards the door. I’m not sure what he thought I was going to do, but there was no way I was going to be leaving the family if he could help it. So I gave up and stayed where I was, determinedly not looking down at Fred’s body.

I don’t know how long it was before a cold, sickening voice reverberated around the hall, magnified hundredfold from outside the castle walls. It penetrated the air over the sobs, catching everyone’s attention with its words.

“Harry Potter is dead. He was killed as he ran away, trying to save himself while you lay down your lives for him. We bring you his body as proof that your hero is gone.”

I heard every word, but only the first four mattered to me. The rest simply stabbed sharply at my ears as my world crumbled around me once more. I could feel everything inside me break in that instant. My body simply stopped, and the world went black as it hit the floor.

I was unconscious for just a few seconds, but when I awoke, the entire family had gathered around me. I felt someone propping my head up, whispering soothingly into my ear. The words, however, got lost somewhere between my eardrum and my brain, because I heard none of them. All that mattered was seeing the proof. I started to sit up, but a forceful hand held my shoulder in place.

My father’s concerned face swam into view, and I discovered it was he who owned the offending arm. I moved to knock it away, but it wouldn’t budge, causing me to give him the darkest look I could muster. He faltered, I think stunned that I’d done that to daddy, but at that moment I didn’t care about my family. In the second that his grip slackened, I broke free. I looked around at everyone’s faces.

No-one I looked at seemed to understand by their expressions. They looked at me with pity, and I could almost see them asking me to sit down next to them. It wasn’t until I got to Ron’s face that I found someone who knew what I was going through.

Ron looked older. Rather than the exuberant eighteen year old man he was, I saw someone who’d seen more pain than many adults. Fred’s death had hit him hard, but now he’d lost more. Harry had basically been a brother as well, and minus the black hair, could have easily doubled up as Ron’s twin, like Fred was to George. He was feeling exactly what the twin was feeling, and it showed on his face.

The look he gave me wasn’t pity however. It was determination. Rather than shaking his head and forcing me to stay put, he held out his hand for me. I took it firmly, and was hauled to my feet, the two of us ignoring the protests of the red-heads around us. I vaguely heard Ron mutter a quick apology to them all, before he tightened his grip on my hand, and the two of us ran from the hall together, closely followed by a crying Hermione.

We were beaten to the grounds by just one person. As we rounded the corner, a piercing scream filled the air. I gasped as I heard Professor McGonagall break down and bawl at the top of her lungs. It could only mean one thing.

We flew through the entrance hall and exited the castle, stopping precisely next to our teacher. All of us dropped to the floor in agony at what we saw.

Before us was a flood of Death Eaters, all standing across the lawns which had mercifully been completely cleared of bodies. I don’t think the carnage would have mattered in my world though, as at the front of the pack stood Hagrid, and in his arms was My Harry

Hermione broke the silence first with her scream of anguish, which was closely followed by Ron’s. Mine came some seconds later.

“Harry, HARRY”

I bellowed as loud as I could. It couldn’t be true. My Harry wasn’t allowed to die. He was much too brave, strong and brilliant for death to claim him. No, he wasn’t dead, he was just sleeping. It was all a hoax to lower our moral, to try to hit us where it hurts. In an hour’s time, Polyjuice would wear off, and we’d find the corpse of some other brave fighter who’d lost their lives and been forced to turn into their hero. It was some cruel joke.

“HARRY!”

I screamed again, and heard a laugh coming from the other side of the lawns. I could feel Voldemort’s dark stare on me, a sick smile playing across his face at my pain.

The doors to the hall were now full with people, all entrapped in a deadly silence, looking at the sight before them. At the front was my family, all with a fresh wave of tears running down their faces. They all stood behind me and tried to pick me up, but I was dead weight, determined not to move from this spot.

“HARRY!”

People around me seemed to snap out of their trances at my call. Shouts were heard through the entrance hall. I heard calls for their hero and friend, mixed with shouts of disgust and insults towards his killers. From our ranks, a boy made a break towards the throng by the forest, running with all his might, wand waving madly through the air. In seconds he had been thrown to the ground by a disarming spell.

“It’s Neville Longbottom, my Lord!” A female voice shouted above the crowd.

Neville dragged his body back up to his feet, staring down the darkest wizard of all time, all thoughts of dying seemingly driven from his mind. I watched in wonder, although heard nothing of the conversation they had. I heard a roar from the young boy, a scream to raise the moral of even those dwelling deeply in sorrow for their loved ones.

“DUMBLEDORE’S ARMY!”

The crowd cheered once more, but I didn’t join in. Instead, I watched as Voldemort flicked his wand. Seconds later, something fell into his hand. With a second flick, the boy in front of him stood rigid, whilst Voldemort himself placed the school sorting hat on his head. With a final wrist movement, the hat burst into flames, and Neville’s screams filled the grounds, his head covered in flames, with no way to defend himself from the torture.

Commotion broke out everywhere, and time seemed to blend all into one. Roars of fury and pain came from the forest. Voldemort’s concentration fell, and Neville was freed from his torture. In his hand, a silver sword gleamed as he slashed it through the air at the snake on Voldemort’s shoulders.

What happened after I failed to see, as a mass of bodies converged together and blocked my view. I pulled myself to my feet to try and see my friends, but was stolen by the tide of bodies flooding through to the great hall. The last I saw of the outside was Hagrid searching frantically, screams of “Where’s Harry” over the dull roar of the battling crowd.

In the hall, the fighting was already intense, almost out of control. Every able-bodied person was involved on one side or another. Centaurs barged in, bows and arrows at the ready, cutting a path with shots and hooves. House Elves joined shortly after, brandishing large carving knifes skillfully, killing mercilessly. I myself found myself up against Bellatrix Lestrange, alongside Luna and Hermione. It was easy to see why the older woman was highest in Voldemort’s ranks. Her dueling skill was sublime, and she held the three of us easily. Just moments after I’d fired a stunner at her; I saw a jet of green light pass by my right ear, missing me by centimeters. I fell back, eyes wide with fear, when a body flung itself in front of me and took over the fight.

I’d never seen my mum this angry, even at the twins after a major prank. I saw in an instant that she wasn’t battling to stun, she was going to kill.

The battle was furious, and I sat in awe, completely forgetting that I was in the centre of a bloody fight. I positioned myself against the wall of the hall, leaning against it to catch my breath, thoughts of the sound of death rushing past my ear moments before. I’d nearly paid the ultimate price in this battle, like Fred.

Mum’s duel went on for a good few minutes, and I couldn’t tell which would win until seconds before it happened. Lestrange became cocky, and nothing infuriates Mum more than cockiness. Well, other than losing a child and nearly having another die right in front of her. I’d seen it before, as I watched a battle between Sirius and Bellatrix just two years previous. Sirius became cocky, and he’d been killed just seconds later.

I’d never imagined Mum killing someone before. Looking at her at that moment, I thought there was a huge possibility that she was going to do anything in her power to end that woman’s life. She never did anything illegal throughout the battle though, despite dueling to kill. Finally, she overcame Lestrange with a hex straight underneath the Death Eater’s guard. Lestrange was blasted back against the wall behind her, landing with a sickening crunch, her limbs splayed awkwardly as her bones broke.

The crowd broke into a roar as Voldemort’s right hand fell. The man himself let out a piercing scream, before blasting three teachers clean off their feet and out of the battle. He pointed his wand at Mum.

I raised my arm and cried out as she turned. I knew she was dead, and no curse had even been said yet. Voldemort was irate, and Mum was the cause.

Above the din of the hall, a blissfully familiar voice called out. A shield was formed between Voldemort and Mum, as the man’s curse was released and instantly absorbed into it.

I knew the voice immediately. But it couldn’t be real. Harry was dead, his body outside, probably trampled on when the masses of Death Eaters came running into the Great Hall. But it was his voice. At first, I thought I’d misheard, and it was another boy’s voice I’d heard. But it was so similar. Then I decided I’d heard what I wanted to hear. But then, how did the shield get there?

The answer was revealed seconds later, as My Harry pulled off his invisibility cloak and stood facing Voldemort, his face determined. I caught a glimpse of his eyes burning brightly, but somehow looking void of emotion. The concentration reflected deep within his soul, as he faced his destiny.

The two warriors began circling around the hall, never moving their eyes from each other. I’d have tried to grab Harry’s attention, but I was too shocked to move. I could feel the power of the two of them reaching a climax. As they circled, cold despair followed Voldemort, and warm hope tailed Harry.

The two talked, but it was nonsensical to nearly everyone in the hall but them. The talk of wands, and Harry’s confidence in the knowledge that he possessed was correct and would keep him alive, seemed to build my hopes up. I knew nothing of Wand Lore, but I knew it was a powerful thing, and that it had played a huge part between the two men before me in the past. Perhaps the fact that Harry knew everything Voldemort didn’t made me feel like I might end up with my boyfriend back, alive, at the end of this last battle, because I felt strangely calm, although the rest of the hall was on tenterhooks.

The sun rose and shone through the enchanted ceiling of the hall, casting the battlefield in a faint orange glow. A ray of hope perhaps, in humanity’s minute of need? Symbolism aside, it triggered the battle, as two wands came rushing through the air.

From one side of the room: a jet of green light; from the other: red. The two met, marking the perfect centre of the circle of people, the circumference of which the two had been pacing moments before. Whether it was the sun’s light, or sheer force, a huge column of fire erupted up from the point of contact. It was a freak of nature the likes of which no-one in the hall had ever seen. Nobody knew what was to come, except me.

I was on my feet and ready as everyone drew a collective breath and held it. As the fire in the centre of the room faded to nothing once more, I saw Harry jump into the air and catch a small bit of wood in his hand. Opposite him, Voldemort was blasted back, sliding on his back until he came to rest: dead.

I was the first to react, running towards Harry screaming in delight. Seconds later, the entire room converged on the hero of the wizarding world. I reached out and touched his shoulder, but he was pulled away from me by the masses of bodies who wanted to touch the “boy who lived”. But that didn’t matter, I got the first touch, and I was sure I’d get the last.

***************

The next few days were torture for the entire family, but I think if anyone bore the brunt of the pain it was me. Preparing for a funeral isn’t an easy task, even when you have a dozen people on the job. The tears flowed freely down the cheeks of everyone at the Burrow as they worked, even the ever-strong Harry Potter, conqueror of evil. I don’t think anyone managed to say an entire sentence without choking on the lumps that had permanently lodged themselves in our throats.

What made this torture even more unbearable was the one who was supposed to be making everything right. Harry had been moping around the house, visibly worse than the rest of the family put together. When confronted about it, he’d storm out of the room, claiming he was fine. We all knew what it was. It was Harry being Harry, a guilt-ridden, moping, over-sensitive, emotional, stubborn prat. Of course, everyone looked to me to fix him, but how do you fix something that’s not broken? This was Harry, and there was nothing to fix.

That didn’t stop me from trying. Harry being so downhearted was almost as tough to handle as Harry running off on whatever duty he had to do last year. He might as well be locked away in his tent again. He hadn’t kissed me once since returning, nor had he talked to me properly either. I didn’t know where I stood with him.

The only thing I could do was wait, if he wouldn’t talk to me. Knowing Harry, he’d concocted some sort of excuse to pin all of the blame on him. Perhaps after the funerals, he’d find a way to forgive himself.

So I waited, and Fred’s funeral came and went, followed by Remus and Tonks’s. Nothing changed in him, and I knew he was still tearing himself apart from the inside.

It was clear that he was being consumed by all the emotions that were swirling around his brain. He’d not eaten anything since the battle. None of the family had before Fred’s funeral, but afterwards, they’d managed to return to some sort of regular pattern, but not Harry, he seemed content to starve. I spoke to Ron, who told me Harry had been lying awake in bed every night, not moving to feign sleep, but his eyes wide open, staring into the black, completely unaware of Ron watching him closely.

The efforts of his best friends had gone to waste. Ron had tried to entice him into some of Harry’s former hobbies, but when even flying couldn’t bring the boy out of his shell, my brother gave up.

Hermione of course, tried the academic approach. I knew before she’d opened her mouth that it wouldn’t work, but I’d let her try what she wanted. After just six words, Harry had jumped up out of his seat and gone up to bed, locking the door behind him. I didn’t tell Hermione that “Harry, I know you’re blaming yourself” was the most tactless thing she could have said, but I think she worked it out.

So it was left to me, but I had no clue what he could want from me. That had to be the mark of a bad girlfriend. I felt frustrated. This should have been easy, I was meant to know him inside out. I’d followed his every move for the past six years. Yet now, at the time when he needed me, I was at a loss for what to do.

I watched him from across the paddock at the Burrow. He’d gone outside to get away from the family, instead of shutting himself in his room like he normally would. Instead, he’d sunk down next to a tree, head in his hands, and sat motionless from there on.

It tore me apart to see him so tied up in himself. Every night since the battle I’d been crying, first for Fred, but that had passed shortly after the funeral. Two weeks later, and it was my boyfriend causing the tears to flow, as I saw him gradually rip his body limb from limb, followed by my heart.

I stepped out of the house to watch him a little bit closer. We were perhaps ten feet apart from each other, yet still he didn’t look up. I didn’t know whether to edge forward a little more, or keep watching from a distance.

Where I stood it was easy to see the pain his was going through. The first thing you could notice was his body shaking violently, as waves of tears converged upon him mercilessly. From the house, I could see his hands in his hair, looking gentle as though pausing as he ran them through his black locks. Closer though, his hands were a dangerous mix of red and white from the strain he put on them with his vice grip.

I took a few steps closer, yet he still didn’t look up. I was probably close enough to touch him if I stretched, but I didn’t try. I didn’t dare, but I knew I had to break him away from whatever was consuming his mind.

“Harry,” I whispered softly, not wanting to startle him in case he truly hadn’t seen me. I saw his ragged breathing stop, his sadness replaced by what could only be described as fear. He looked up at me slowly.

My heart broke at the state he was in: worse than anything I’d seen before. His eyes, usually so caring and friendly as they bathed you in their green glow, were red and bloodshot, from the combination of tears and lack of sleep. His hair was messier than usual, but it wasn’t the usual mop which looked so adorable. It wasn’t even the bloodied mess that had saved me from the Chamber. It looked like each individual hair had been tugged and wrenched at, and only the most resilient had been able to resist. His face had turned as white as some of the ghosts at Hogwarts without decent food.

I quickly took in what I could. On his hands were scars, visible in the light, which looked only freshly healed. They were mainly dotted around his knuckles, probably from being forced to pummel an unfortunate wall. Some however, traveled from his knuckles, and up his arms. I dreaded to think what he’d done to himself to get those.

“Harry, what are you doing to yourself?”

My question wasn’t made in disgust, but a kind, caring nature. I found I could speak in no other tone with someone who looked so defeated before me.

He couldn’t look me in the eyes, that much was plain to see. I saw his pupils glance up at my face, but they had settled briefly on my lips as though they had uttered a disgusting swear words to him. Then he looked down, and opened his mouth to speak, before closing it once more, words failing him. The next thing I knew, he was on his feet and making his way past me.

My arm flung out to my side to grab him as he went. My fingers settled around his arm, and he winced in pain, causing me to recoil quickly. Finally, he turned his eyes on mine, and a range of emotion swam behind them. Most prominent of all, was guilt.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, a dark look swimming across his face, before he strode away from me.

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Chapter 4: Anywhere You Go

Author's Notes: It's been too long! I'm so sorry. It's been quite a hectic year (might even be longer than that), but I'm back with a new chapter finally. If you go back and read the rest again, you'll see bits have been changed, added and improved, and all this is down to my wonderful beta Ginny Guerra, who has done such a good job. Thanks a lot.


I collapsed against the tree he had been sitting against a moment before and watched his retreating back. His steps were slow, perhaps hindered by the lack of energy from no sleep and little food. I saw his left arm raise and settle on his right, cradling it, his hand wrapped around the exact spot where I’d grabbed. His head was bowed down, staring at his feet as he walked, almost as though each step was a huge effort for him.

My own head fell forwards, unable to continue looking at my broken and battered Harry walking away from me. I placed my hands on my forehead and leaned on the floor in front of me, sobs wracking my body. I sat, making as little noise as I could whilst crying my eyes out, until he had entered the house, before I threw my head back and screamed in anguish, causing the birds to fly from the tops of the trees. I emptied my lungs and fell forward, panting slightly from the strain, before doing it again, releasing all of my emotion into these cries to whatever God there may be. Seven screams, emptying two full lungs for each one, before I collapsed forward, exhausted from the strain of everything, crying silently again.

***************

It was a full hour before I could move again, and I slowly dragged my carcass off the ground and back to the Burrow. Darkness had started to settle in around me. All of my tears had dried up: I’d reached my limit long before and had instead been shaking with dry sobs. My body protested against every movement I made, tired from the exertion from the crying, and the length of time that I had been sat on the hard ground.

Entering the kitchen, I noticed without surprise that Harry wasn’t there. Everyone else was, though, settled around the table, glum looks on their faces. They all acknowledged my presense, but said nothing. I sat at the spare seat, and a mug of hot chocolate was placed in front of me instantly. I drank in silence, not hearing anything that the rest of the family might have said.

Instead, the only thing I was listening to was the banging upstairs. The sound of someone moving, and the echoes that reverberated around the halls, pounded into my eardrums incessantly. I wanted to move, but found myself rooted to the chair. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the twins – George – had placed a permanent sticking charm under me. No, this was no charm.

This was fear.

Fear of what I already knew to be true. I was scared of the broken Harry that I’d found by the tree earlier that day. I was scared of the look of anguish on his face as I touched him. He felt more than anyone who was sat in the kitchen with me, who were all oblivious to the young man’s feelings, too tied up in their own to notice. Everyone had lost a brother, or a son, but Harry had lost so much more.

Every person who had died in this war had been a brother, father, sister or mother to this boy. Not just Fred, who I knew would be at the top of his list, but Remus, Tonks, Sirius, Dumbledore, Cedric, his parents, even those lesser known to him, like the eccentric Colin Creevey, or some random muggle that he’d read about in the Daily Prophet. Harry was feeling for everyone, because that was what he was like.

This was what made him My Harry. My Harry was caring. My Harry was loving. My Harry took everyone’s problems and made them his own. But this time, everyone’s problems were just too much for My Harry.

My Harry.

My Harry.

I bolted from my chair, any idea of being glued to it being forgotten, all fear leaving my body. Around the table, eight heads jolted up with me, snapping out of their trances. Sixteen eyes followed me as I fled from the room.

This was My Harry that was in pain. My Harry was hurting himself, beating himself up over something that he could never hope to have changed. He was broken, battered and bruised, physically, mentally and emotionally. And I was sat at a table, drinking hot chocolate, moping because I can’t do anything about it.

To hell I can’t do anything!

The aches that plagued me just a few minutes before as a dragged myself to the house had suddenly left. Either that or they’d been forgotten. My mind had become just one single thought: be the girlfriend I’m supposed to be.

I ran through the hall and tore up the stairs, breaking any records that we ever created when we were kids, with free hearts and no burdens, back in better days, setting challenges for each other to try and beat. I didn’t bother to try and think who might have held this particular record, I was only concentrated on breaking the record in ‘getting to Harry before he does something stupid’.

I burst into the only room on the top floor: Ron’s, and nearly broke the door off its hinges. Harry stood inside, turned to face the newcomer with a look of shock that would have been funny if the situation hadn’t been so desperate. I could see why he looked surprised. He’d probably been absorbed in whatever he was banging around, oblivious to the world, when suddenly his girlfriend blasted her way into the room, red faced and panting from the trip up the stairs. Yeah, probably wasn’t the most relaxing of sights. Actually, knowing how I look after exercise, it was probably downright scary.

He seemed to regain his composure pretty quickly however, and he straightened up and turned to face me before I could even get any words out. It was then that I saw what he’d been bumping around the room doing.

On the bed sat a large case, the same I’d seen so many times being hauled on to the Hogwarts Express and shoved roughly up into the luggage compartment. I blanched at the sight of this, all admonishments and rebukes dying on my tongue. I simply stared, my eyes wide, not able to comprehend what was happening. Then it clicked.

He’s leaving?

It couldn’t be! My glance flicked up to his face. His face showed the pain he was going through, and how much it was hurting him to do what he was doing. But it showed a quiet resolve, firm and defiant. He was definitely leaving.

As this thought registered in my mind, his hand moved and grasped the handle to his trunk. His eyes caught mine for a brief moment, and I saw the intensity that passed through them. The same look he’d given me down by the tree.

My mouth finally started to work, but it was all too late. As I started to formulate some sort of reason for him not to carry on with his plans, he cut me off.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, and with that, he was gone with a loud crack of apparition.

***************

I stared in shock at the space where he’d left. I don’t know how long I stood there, unmoving.

He actually left me!

I was brought out of my reverie by the sound of loud footsteps rushing up the stairs. Shaking my head, I found in myself a new sense of vigor and determination.

“No you don’t, Harry Potter,” I shouted at no-one, before bowling out of the room in the same manner I’d entered, nearly killing Ron as I passed him on the hall, ignoring his cry of “Ginny, where’s Harry? I heard someone Apparate”.

I took the stairs two at a time, barely touching each one as I raced down, all the while cursing the regime that had taken over the school last year, and how apparition lessons had been cancelled by the Carrows. Had I known the trick, I’d have popped out of existence and already been chasing my boyfriend.

Chasing him where, though? I had no clue where Harry would have gone, what he had planned for himself. He could have appeared somewhere in the heart of London and already been lost in a Muggle crowd for all I knew. I didn’t care. I barreled into the living room, to the only chance I had of leaving the house.

Quickly throwing some floo powder into the fire, I stepped into the green flames and yelled the first words that came into my head.

“Number Twelve, Grimmauld Place!”

As the flames whipped around me, I saw my family enter the room, before I was whisked away in a blur of colour.

***************

Under normal circumstances, exiting the Floo would have been nice and easy for me. I’d done it hundreds of times, even for simple things like Flooing to Luna’s during the summer for a day. I knew how quickly the grate comes towards you, how to position your body as you fly out so that you land elegantly instead of careering out headfirst and taking out an unsuspecting person on the other side.

Today was different however. With the torrent of emotions flying through my body, my brain couldn’t seem to process the ‘elbows in, leading leg slightly bent at the knee, trailing leg tucked in a little in a mid-step’ position. Instead, I chose the second option: career out headfirst, but fortunately avoided hitting anyone on the way out.

Gingerly rising to my feet, I wondered how Harry ever got by not being able to Floo correctly, it certainly wasn’t my idea of a fun trip. The question was quickly forgotten though, and my resolve came back. Quickly glancing around, I found I was in the kitchen of the old headquarters, and the room was absent of any sign of Harry.

Actually, the room was absent of a lot, including tidiness. The place looked like it hadn’t been inhabited for months, and as though it had been raided and forcefully abdicated whenever the last person left. The table was upturned, cupboard doors ripped off their hinges, and what I could only assume was once food was scattered casually across the floor, left to rot and fester, some with chunks missing after being taken by whatever foul creature might have taken up residence since. I took in these things, briefly thinking of what might have caused such a mess, before striding towards the door to search the rest of the house.

If anything, the living room was in an even worse state than the kitchen. Instead of being upturned and scattered, furniture had been ripped to shreds and left in tatters over the floor. Black family items were strewn around, many smashed, broken, or otherwise bent into unrecognisable shapes. Standing in the opposite doorway, the one that led to the hall, was Harry, eyes wide, his trunk discarded on the floor.

Cautiously I stepped into the room, both careful not to interrupt the already destroyed room, and Harry’s trance-like state at the sight of his house. I managed to move to within a few feet of him without him showing any sign of recognition. I stopped, and gently whispered, “Harry.”

He started, as though I’d shouted at him, and then winced at the sudden movement. Quickly his eyes darted towards me, and then he turned his head away, looking anywhere but me. I watched silently as he seemed to fight with himself, and then begin to turn away from me.

“Going to run away again, Harry?” I shouted at him forcefully. He stopped dead in his tracks, his head bowed down at the floor, looking ashamed of himself.

“You can’t run anywhere, Harry, there’s nowhere I won’t follow you to,” I said just as powerfully, making sure every word sank in. “Try it if you want, go and leave!”

My challenge was one that I didn’t really want him to take me up on. It would be so much harder for me to use Floo connections to get everywhere, with the added fact I didn’t know where he’d Apparate to. But he didn’t move. He stood stock still, staring intently at his own feet. But I had to make sure he was going nowhere. If I let up, he could run when I wasn’t expecting it.

“Go on, Harry! Run away! Run away from everything. Just try to leave me out of this. I’ll follow you everywhere you choose. Privet Drive, Hogwarts, Diagon Alley. I’ll even go down into the fucking Chamber for you!”

The last statement made my breath hitch, but I realised that it was no less true. I saw it had an effect on him too. His shoulders seemed to drop at little, probably with resignation that he wasn’t going to win. I stayed silent, staring a hole into the back of his head, not letting myself lose concentration, so if he tried anything fast, I’d be able to take his hand and he’d have no choice but to Apparate me wherever he went.

Slowly, too slowly for my liking, he seemed to relax his muscles and turn towards me. It took all of my effort to resist running into his arms, but I remembered the pain he was in when I grabbed his arm not long ago. That moment seemed like hours ago as I looked at the broken man before me. At least he wasn’t running.

“Good, now let’s sort this out like adults, shall we?” I said, lowering my tone only slightly so I didn’t scare him, but kept the authority in my voice. He nodded his head once, reluctantly, still refusing to look at me. Seeing this, I took a deep breath and my anger dissipated instantly. I took a few tentative steps towards him, but he didn’t make any attempt to stop me or leave. When I reached him, I brought my hand up and cupped his cheek gently and lifted his eyes to meet mine.

“What’s happening, Harry? Let me help,” I said as soft as I could. I could see the tears begin to well up in his eyes, threatening to overflow.

“I don’t deserve your help,” his voice was raspy from lack of use as he spoke, and my heart broke. It wasn’t the words he’d spoken; I’d probably heard him say them a million times. It was the defeat behind them. This time, he believed it more than he ever had.

It took a second for me to compose myself before I spoke again, still in the calm voice, “Please don’t say that, Harry, you deserve all the help in the world.”

“I’m a murderer,” Harry said softly, almost in a whisper. “Murderers deserve locking up with the rest of their foul kind, not help.”

Finally, the root of what was causing all his grief. I let out a sigh of relief, now that I knew what was happening in his head. Apparently this was the wrong thing to do, as he exploded in front of me.

“You find it funny, do you? I’m a killer and you find it funny! What, is that not serious enough for you? How could anyone want to be around me? I’ve killed, Ginny – Stop laughing!”

I couldn’t help myself, the sigh of relief slowly built inside me, until I couldn’t help it. It started as a small smile, before growing into a chuckle, until by the end of his spiel I was outright laughing, which only seemed to frustrate him further.

“How can you find this funny? Why are you laughing at me!?”

At this, I couldn’t take anymore. I let go of some of the emotions that had been pent up inside me and shouted “Because it’s funny, Harry!”

“How-”

“Listen to yourself,” I said, composing myself slightly, but still keeping the smile on my face, relieved that I at least had an argument against him now. “Just listen. Yes, Harry, you killed someone – Don’t interrupt me!” I stopped him as he started to open his mouth. It made me let out another small chuckle at how fast his mouth clamped shut. “You killed someone, but you aren’t thinking are you? Who did you kill, Harry?”

Harry looked hesitant, like this was some sort of trick question. Eventually, he said, “Voldemort”

“Voldemort! Harry, you killed the most evil Dark Lord to ever have existed! This wasn’t John Smith out on the street, it was Voldemort!”

Harry pulled a face, still with a look of disbelief on his face. He seemed to contemplate things for a second, before he said, “It doesn’t change the fact I killed someone, I’m no different from him.”

“No, it doesn’t change that,” I told him, and I saw the look of pure horror cross his face, as though he’d been expecting me to disagree with some amazing argument that would win him over. I quickly continued, “But don’t you see, Harry? You’re beating yourself up for killing someone evil. Do you think Voldemort ever said to his Death Eaters –” I put on a very high pitched panicky voice, “’Oh no, I’ve killed someone, I’m such a terrible person.’ No, he didn’t, and he was killing innocent people.”

I gently rested my hand on his chest, careful to avoid any injury that he might have there. He made no sign that I’d hurt him, but seemed to be looking at me as though he’d never seen me before in his life, like I was some new fascination.

“So tell me, Harry, how are you like Voldemort? You’re a beautiful person, and you did what was right, and you’re blaming yourself. You’re probably the most amazing person in the world, and you’re the only one who can’t see it,” I said gently.

It took several minutes of us standing in total silence, just gazing into each other’s eyes. Somewhere along the line, I began to cry, but didn’t break eye contact. When his hand came up and brushed away my tears, my breath hitched. Seconds later, I found his lips pressed to mine softly.

Somewhere inside me, a fire was lit, and within seconds it was a roaring inferno. I closed my eyes, unable to keep them open any longer from the shocks of electricity that jolted through my body. I gave in completely to the kiss. It was full of all the emotions we’d both been keeping back for so long. I realised that somehow his hands had become tangled in my hair; our tongues had begun to dance with each other as though trying to merge as one and my body was being pressed against his and slowly moved back towards the wall. All the while our lips moved seamlessly against each other, perfectly fitting, managing to gauge, and even predict what we were about to do next, meaning each little movement one of us made was anticipated and met with the perfect adjustment by the other, like we’d practiced this for weeks.

I vaguely recall my back gently coming into contact with the wall behind me, and Harry’s hands slipping out of my hair, down over my shoulders, carefully skimming over my chest, causing a small moan to sound in the back of my throat, before resting on my waist, where he delicately slid them up my top and onto my bare skin. My own arms snaked their way up around his neck as I reluctantly pulled away from his kiss to look into his eyes.

It was then that I finally saw it, the thing I’d been looking for so long to see again, behind the traces of doubt and worry that he still held. The spark that made those emerald orbs look so beautiful.

And it felt like I was home, with My Harry, and I’m sure he felt the same way.

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