The Gates
She watched from the stairwell leading up to the girls' dormitory as he made his way to the portrait hole, his wand in one hand and his Invisibility Cloak in the other. The inky blackness of night still settled on the mostly slumbering castle, and she could tell he had planned it this way. To leave in the dark, trying to spare as many as possible; it was his way. She didn't feel angry with him; indeed, she didn't feel anything at all, except a deep ache spreading from her soul. Suddenly, she knew he couldn't leave without her blessing, and she wanted to give it to him, anything to keep the hate from engulfing him.
She prayed her voice was steady. "I didn't think you'd leave without a goodbye."
It was steady, with a slight note of teasing. Her words cut through the silent common room like a cleaver, and he spun, green eyes catching the light from dying embers in the wide fireplace. She stepped from the shadows of the stairway, smiling slightly at him. Her dressing-gown was upstairs, but she didn't care. He'd seen her in a nightdress before. Lord, he'd seen her in less. This was hardly the time to be bashful.
He didn't smile at her, but dropped his cloak and stepped towards her, shoving his wand in the pocket of his black robes. "I thought it would be easier," he replied softly, meeting her dark gaze levelly.
Tears threatened her eyes, but she shoved them down into her throat. She walked to him, standing almost close enough to touch the front of his robes with her gown, and looked up at him. "Easier for who, Harry?" she asked, trying to conquer the pain rising in her heart.
He looked away, running a hand through already mussed hair. "You. Me. I just thought..." he trailed off, looking down at the floor.
She touched his arm gently. "It's all right, Harry. I understand. But, I didn't want you to leave without a goodbye," she commented tenderly, reaching up to touch his cheek.
He met her gaze once more, searching her. An arm snaked around her waist, and his Quidditch-calloused hand rested at the small of her back, pulling her flush to his form. She leaned her cheek on his chest, and they stood silently in the middle of the room, holding each other in comfort. His chin rested on the top of her head, and he inhaled, breathing in the scent of the crimson hair that tumbled in springy curls down her back. He wondered if he would ever do this again with her in his life. And, he was glad she didn't plead to come with him, like he feared she would. To watch her die at Voldemort's hands would have killed him.
She finally broke the silence. "Is he in Hogsmeade?"
He nodded. She sighed, wrapping her arms around him loosely. "Then we have to fight tomorrow." It wasn't a question.
He answered anyway. "Yes." Only the willing sixth and seventh-years were at Hogwarts with the staff now. All the rest of the students were sent home before the Death Eaters had arrived almost a week ago. July was almost here, and the time of the prophesy was upon the world. It would all end tomorrow. In 24 hours, he would either be dead or alive.
Suddenly, she looked up into his eyes. "I'll wait for you at the gates when it's over," she promised thickly, chocolate eyes shining with unshed tears.
His heart lurched, and he put his other arm around her, pulling her to him even tighter. It would be all right; she even said so right then. She had faith in him, and that made him have faith in himself. "I'll be there," he replied hoarsely, brushing his lips across her forehead.
She smiled brokenly. "I know."
They stared at each other for a moment, drinking in individual features; she memorized the flecks of his eyes, he counted the number of freckles on her nose. Then, abruptly, he lifted her up in his arms, and crushed her mouth to his, holding her desperately to his form. She yielded under the pressure of his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck, shutting her eyes tightly against the wave of tears welling behind them. He felt her mouth move under his, and he thought how wretched it must have been for his parents to live like this, wondering if each night was their last together. But, he shoved the thought from his mind, and stayed in the present, molding to her curves, imprinting her on his heart like a tattoo, to keep in the darkest of the coming hours.
Air became sparse, and their mouths separated harshly, glazed eyes opening, arms becoming looser around the other's body. Harry took a harsh few breaths, lifting one hand from her waist to cup her cheek. "I love you, Ginny." The words spilled out as he exhaled.
She smiled brilliantly, lifting her lips to his cheek. "I love you, too," she whispered, releasing his neck from her grip, and stepping away from him as far as she dared-less than two inches. "You'd better go," she murmured, eyes cast at the floor.
He nodded blindly, and freed her from his hands, sliding his fingers across her cheek as he stepped away. Turning, he went back to the edge of the portrait hole, picked up his cloak, and looked back. "The gates?" he asked, voice harsh with feeling.
She simply nodded, and gave him a small smile. He grinned slightly back, turned, and left the common room without a backward glance.
Ginny gasped quietly, finding her way to an overstuffed chair, and collapsed. She stopped her futile attempts to hold back her tears, and her cheeks were soon flooded with pain as dawn crept along the horizon.
~*~
It was in this chair that Hermione found her friend, staring out the window as the sun began its ascent in the sky. The light blues and purples of dawn shimmered in her bright hair, the whites of her eyes as red as the curls cascading around her. She was pale, but her face was set, unheeded by the dried tear tracks on her cheeks. Hermione wrapped her dressing-gown around herself more tightly, and walked out into the common room. She knew why Ginny was up so early. Harry was gone.
"Ginny?"
She turned at the sound of her name, ears adjusting to the lack of silence. Her eyes met Hermione's, and her resolve nearly fell to pieces. She didn't want to think about Harry; he was alone, fighting some wretched thing that didn't deserve to breathe, and she couldn't help him at all. Looking into the eyes of one of his oldest friends, Ginny wanted to cry. What were they without him? What could any of them do if he wasn't around?
She shook herself mentally, gathered her wits, and tried to smile at Hermione. "Looks like a lovely day. Can't wait to get outdoors and experience summer," she rattled on, turning her eyes from Hermione's gaze.
Hermione could see the fragility in Ginny's demeanor, and she wasn't fooled. She didn't want small talk today, and she wasn't going to take it. "Ginny, stop it." Her voice was hard.
The red-haired girl continued on. "Would be a great day for Quidditch, if it stays like this. Ron will want to play, even if we can't--- "
"Ginny, don't be ridiculous. I know what happened. Harry's gone and we have to fight today," Hermione interjected harshly, going over to Ginny's side. "He is gone, yes?"
Ginny was silenced. She nodded shortly, biting her bottom lip. Hermione closed her eyes, and sighed. "I thought it would be today," she muttered to herself. "He was detached from us last night, and then he hugged me before bed. I knew what was up."
An abrupt exhale shuddered from the other girl, and Hermione looked down to see Ginny hugging herself, staring with glassy eyes out the window. The older girl wound an arm around her friend's slim shoulders in comfort, feeling oddly different from Ginny at the moment. At least Ron was going to be with her to the last moment today. Ginny had to wait for conformation of Harry's life or death apart from him.
"I wish..." Ginny drew a shaky breath. "I wish I could be with him."
Hermione patted her shoulder. "This is his fight. He needs to do this alone," she replied softly.
"I know. I understand that. I just wish I could be there to help him, to take care of him." Ginny gave a curt, bitter laugh. "Hell, I'd try to kill Voldemort for him. It's not like I don't have the experience."
Hermione squeezed her shoulders tighter, knowing she was speaking of the Chamber of Secrets and the adventures in the Department of Mysteries. Even after all these years, only Harry and Ginny knew the full extent of the happenings in the Chamber, and Hermione had never wanted to ask. She felt a dull ache as she gazed out into the reddening sky, and suddenly she could feel Ginny's pain acutely. "I wish I could help him too," she found herself saying. "He's been like the brother I've never had. I'd do almost anything for him."
Ginny looked up, chocolate eyes full of agony. "He said he'd meet me at the gates when he was done."
Hermione nodded, noting the choice of words. 'Always when, never if.'
Ginny swallowed, trying not to cry again. Her eyes still burned from earlier this morning. "Don't let me leave the gates until you think there's no hope. Promise me, no matter how late, you won't let me budge from those gates until you think it's hopeless." Her voice was thick with the effort to get the last few words out.
Hermione's throat closed, and she pulled Ginny up into a warm hug, nodding gently. "I promise," she whispered, petting the wild curls as Ginny buried her face in her shoulder, heaving dry sobs full of grief. Hermione could barely control her own tears.
There were steps from the directions of the boys' stairway, and both girls looked up to see Ron scramble down the stairs, eyes and hair wild, dressing-gown belted haphazardly around his bare waist. He saw his two favorite girls watching him silently, and swallowed. "Damn prat left, did he?" he asked as lightly as he could, heart plummeting at the sight of his sister's distressed face.
Hermione cleared her throat, and nodded. "Yes, Harry has gone."
Ron took a deep breath and sighed, looking much older than his 18 years. "All right, then. Looks like we've got a gang of Death Eaters to kill, eh girls?"
Ginny let out a half-laugh, half-sob at his words, and rushed across the room to embrace him, Hermione on her heels. He held them both in silence, rocking them slightly as morning arrived in full-force, and the tower came to muted life, all persons realizing the day had come as they trooped down the stairs, finding the usual friends together without their fourth.
~*~
Ginny slipped her wand into her pocket, watching smoke curl up to the clear night sky from the smoldering ruins of Hogsmeade from the gates of her half-destroyed school. Bodies littered the ground as far as she could see, and she was glad to see that most with swathed in black robes: Death Eaters, gone to the hell that awaited them. She had no pity for them; they chose the path of power, greed, evil, and she could feel nothing but hate for them.
But, as her eyes traveled the ground, she did feel anguish. She saw the crumpled form of Neville, dead in a blaze of glory; he took out MacNair. Colin was not far off, his usually bright eyes blank with death. Snape was by the lake; Dean was about 20 yards from her. Padma Patil, Professor Sprout, Susan Bones; All these good people, dead. She wanted to cry, but she had nothing left to give.
It had been a wretched, dirty fight that started in mid-afternoon, just as the temperature hit its highest. Death Eaters stormed the main part of Hogsmeade, and all the remaining wizards and witches at Hogwarts marched into battle, ready to fight to death. Dumbledore had disappeared from the ranks as the enemy neared the gates, and Ginny could only feel relief as he passed her. His bright blue eyes had reassured her, and he melted away from sight; he had gone to help Harry.
It began with a Death Eater-advantage as the enemy tossed every curse imaginable at the students and staff. Many were lost at the beginning, but that only made the survivors more determined. Blood was spilled with reckless abandon; Ginny couldn't think of the first hours without wanting to retch.
The tide began to turn in their favor by nightfall, after Professor McGonagall had declared the death of the headmaster, and the students became outraged. Who knew how she found out; Ginny didn't want to know. It had only increased her concerns for Harry triple-fold.
It had only been a little while after that when victory was declared, and the surviving Death Eaters surrendered. She had been rushing over to Hermione at the end when Draco Malfoy, as he was being taken away by a few Aurors, screamed at her: "The Dark Lord may be gone, but at least he took Potter with him!"
She had thrown a Stunning Spell at him before any Auror could stop her, and it didn't seem like anyone had minded. His words were ignored by everyone, and Hermione told her to forget him. Harry was fine, and he'd be back in no time.
That was almost two hours ago. Ginny bit her lip, and looked out towards the almost-leveled town, searching through the thick smoke for the tall, lanky form she loved so well, and saw nothing but smoke. Her heart plummeted. What if Malfoy was right? What if Harry had sacrificed himself to save the world from Voldemort? She couldn't live in a world without Harry. She didn't want to.
A hand touched her shoulder, and she winced. Someone had tossed a hex at her, and it had nicked her shoulder, causing massive bleeding and irritation. She didn't want it to be touched. She didn't want anyone touching her other than Harry.
"Ginny, I must have you come back to the castle. Madam Pomfrey must look you over. Your shoulder is dreadful." The tired, pained voice of Remus Lupin echoed next to her, and she sighed inaudibly. How must he feel, waiting for Harry? The only Marauder left since Sirius' death two years ago, Harry had fallen into his care. Harry loved the man as much as he loved Sirius, and Ginny was close to him because of her relationship with Harry. Was he worried? Had he lost hope?
"Ginny." Hermione was with him. Ginny turned, and saw her standing a bit behind Lupin, supporting a pale, bloodied Ron. She looked tired; her hair was covered in blood, her face was cut. She looked like she needed a long bath and a day's worth of sleep. "Listen to Remus. You look wretched."
Lupin pushed on her shoulder gently. "Come now, Ginny."
Silently, she let herself be led, pushed ahead by Lupin. She felt hollow, numb. They wanted her to leave the gates; they thought he wasn't coming back. Hermione even thought so. She wanted to die. Let the blood spout from her wounds; she didn't care anymore.
Hermione and Ron were about to follow when Ron let out a strangled noise of surprise. "Bloody hell," he breathed.
"Ginny, come back." Hermione's voice was high, desperate, and full of tentative hope.
Ginny whirled around, searching the smoky gloom. A lone figure was walking from the ashes of Hogsmeade, something torn and ragged in one hand, and a wand in the other. He was tall, lean, shoulders hunched with fatigue. A breeze floated by, and some of the smoke lifted, and the group could see his ragged, messy head of hair as he halted, staring right at them.
The breath left her lungs, and she clutched a hand to her throat, gasping for air. Ron was shaking his head, Hermione was on the verge of tears, and Lupin was shaking so hard Ginny thought he would fall. She stepped away from his hand, and went out into the open, willing herself to breathe. "Har...Harry?" she whispered, heart pumping wildly.
The man looked at her, and dropped his ragged cloak. "Gin?" he croaked.
A loud cry of joy left her mouth and she ran towards him, ignoring all the aching bones in her body, watching him come towards her slowly, pain etched on every facet of his face. She knew he was hurt, and she knew he had suffered. She didn't care; he was alive.
Harry swept her up in his tired arms as soon as she was in reach, silent tears running down his cheeks. She flung her arms around him, clinging to his shoulders, feeling him breathe against her. Sobs poured from her as she kissed him on his cheek, his chin, his nose. His knees buckled, and they fell to the stained ground, wrapped up in each others' arms, too tired to care who saw or how much they were hurting.
Ginny cupped his face in her hand, and met his blurry gaze. He smiled crookedly at her, and touched his forehead to hers. "I'm here," he stated, voice rough with unshed tears.
She kissed him gently, wiping away his tears with her fingertips. It was the first time she had seen him cry openly since Sirius' death, and she wanted to make it better for him, knowing how he hated to be emotionally vulnerable. "I know. I knew you would be," she replied with a voice just as cracked.
His grip tightened around her, and he rocked her as she kissed away his tears, eased his pain. They sat sprawled on the ground as midnight came and went, and the smoke cleared from the ashes of battle.
She watched from the stairwell leading up to the girls' dormitory as he made his way to the portrait hole, his wand in one hand and his Invisibility Cloak in the other. The inky blackness of night still settled on the mostly slumbering castle, and she could tell he had planned it this way. To leave in the dark, trying to spare as many as possible; it was his way. She didn't feel angry with him; indeed, she didn't feel anything at all, except a deep ache spreading from her soul. Suddenly, she knew he couldn't leave without her blessing, and she wanted to give it to him, anything to keep the hate from engulfing him.
She prayed her voice was steady. "I didn't think you'd leave without a goodbye."
It was steady, with a slight note of teasing. Her words cut through the silent common room like a cleaver, and he spun, green eyes catching the light from dying embers in the wide fireplace. She stepped from the shadows of the stairway, smiling slightly at him. Her dressing-gown was upstairs, but she didn't care. He'd seen her in a nightdress before. Lord, he'd seen her in less. This was hardly the time to be bashful.
He didn't smile at her, but dropped his cloak and stepped towards her, shoving his wand in the pocket of his black robes. "I thought it would be easier," he replied softly, meeting her dark gaze levelly.
Tears threatened her eyes, but she shoved them down into her throat. She walked to him, standing almost close enough to touch the front of his robes with her gown, and looked up at him. "Easier for who, Harry?" she asked, trying to conquer the pain rising in her heart.
He looked away, running a hand through already mussed hair. "You. Me. I just thought..." he trailed off, looking down at the floor.
She touched his arm gently. "It's all right, Harry. I understand. But, I didn't want you to leave without a goodbye," she commented tenderly, reaching up to touch his cheek.
He met her gaze once more, searching her. An arm snaked around her waist, and his Quidditch-calloused hand rested at the small of her back, pulling her flush to his form. She leaned her cheek on his chest, and they stood silently in the middle of the room, holding each other in comfort. His chin rested on the top of her head, and he inhaled, breathing in the scent of the crimson hair that tumbled in springy curls down her back. He wondered if he would ever do this again with her in his life. And, he was glad she didn't plead to come with him, like he feared she would. To watch her die at Voldemort's hands would have killed him.
She finally broke the silence. "Is he in Hogsmeade?"
He nodded. She sighed, wrapping her arms around him loosely. "Then we have to fight tomorrow." It wasn't a question.
He answered anyway. "Yes." Only the willing sixth and seventh-years were at Hogwarts with the staff now. All the rest of the students were sent home before the Death Eaters had arrived almost a week ago. July was almost here, and the time of the prophesy was upon the world. It would all end tomorrow. In 24 hours, he would either be dead or alive.
Suddenly, she looked up into his eyes. "I'll wait for you at the gates when it's over," she promised thickly, chocolate eyes shining with unshed tears.
His heart lurched, and he put his other arm around her, pulling her to him even tighter. It would be all right; she even said so right then. She had faith in him, and that made him have faith in himself. "I'll be there," he replied hoarsely, brushing his lips across her forehead.
She smiled brokenly. "I know."
They stared at each other for a moment, drinking in individual features; she memorized the flecks of his eyes, he counted the number of freckles on her nose. Then, abruptly, he lifted her up in his arms, and crushed her mouth to his, holding her desperately to his form. She yielded under the pressure of his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck, shutting her eyes tightly against the wave of tears welling behind them. He felt her mouth move under his, and he thought how wretched it must have been for his parents to live like this, wondering if each night was their last together. But, he shoved the thought from his mind, and stayed in the present, molding to her curves, imprinting her on his heart like a tattoo, to keep in the darkest of the coming hours.
Air became sparse, and their mouths separated harshly, glazed eyes opening, arms becoming looser around the other's body. Harry took a harsh few breaths, lifting one hand from her waist to cup her cheek. "I love you, Ginny." The words spilled out as he exhaled.
She smiled brilliantly, lifting her lips to his cheek. "I love you, too," she whispered, releasing his neck from her grip, and stepping away from him as far as she dared-less than two inches. "You'd better go," she murmured, eyes cast at the floor.
He nodded blindly, and freed her from his hands, sliding his fingers across her cheek as he stepped away. Turning, he went back to the edge of the portrait hole, picked up his cloak, and looked back. "The gates?" he asked, voice harsh with feeling.
She simply nodded, and gave him a small smile. He grinned slightly back, turned, and left the common room without a backward glance.
Ginny gasped quietly, finding her way to an overstuffed chair, and collapsed. She stopped her futile attempts to hold back her tears, and her cheeks were soon flooded with pain as dawn crept along the horizon.
~*~
It was in this chair that Hermione found her friend, staring out the window as the sun began its ascent in the sky. The light blues and purples of dawn shimmered in her bright hair, the whites of her eyes as red as the curls cascading around her. She was pale, but her face was set, unheeded by the dried tear tracks on her cheeks. Hermione wrapped her dressing-gown around herself more tightly, and walked out into the common room. She knew why Ginny was up so early. Harry was gone.
"Ginny?"
She turned at the sound of her name, ears adjusting to the lack of silence. Her eyes met Hermione's, and her resolve nearly fell to pieces. She didn't want to think about Harry; he was alone, fighting some wretched thing that didn't deserve to breathe, and she couldn't help him at all. Looking into the eyes of one of his oldest friends, Ginny wanted to cry. What were they without him? What could any of them do if he wasn't around?
She shook herself mentally, gathered her wits, and tried to smile at Hermione. "Looks like a lovely day. Can't wait to get outdoors and experience summer," she rattled on, turning her eyes from Hermione's gaze.
Hermione could see the fragility in Ginny's demeanor, and she wasn't fooled. She didn't want small talk today, and she wasn't going to take it. "Ginny, stop it." Her voice was hard.
The red-haired girl continued on. "Would be a great day for Quidditch, if it stays like this. Ron will want to play, even if we can't--- "
"Ginny, don't be ridiculous. I know what happened. Harry's gone and we have to fight today," Hermione interjected harshly, going over to Ginny's side. "He is gone, yes?"
Ginny was silenced. She nodded shortly, biting her bottom lip. Hermione closed her eyes, and sighed. "I thought it would be today," she muttered to herself. "He was detached from us last night, and then he hugged me before bed. I knew what was up."
An abrupt exhale shuddered from the other girl, and Hermione looked down to see Ginny hugging herself, staring with glassy eyes out the window. The older girl wound an arm around her friend's slim shoulders in comfort, feeling oddly different from Ginny at the moment. At least Ron was going to be with her to the last moment today. Ginny had to wait for conformation of Harry's life or death apart from him.
"I wish..." Ginny drew a shaky breath. "I wish I could be with him."
Hermione patted her shoulder. "This is his fight. He needs to do this alone," she replied softly.
"I know. I understand that. I just wish I could be there to help him, to take care of him." Ginny gave a curt, bitter laugh. "Hell, I'd try to kill Voldemort for him. It's not like I don't have the experience."
Hermione squeezed her shoulders tighter, knowing she was speaking of the Chamber of Secrets and the adventures in the Department of Mysteries. Even after all these years, only Harry and Ginny knew the full extent of the happenings in the Chamber, and Hermione had never wanted to ask. She felt a dull ache as she gazed out into the reddening sky, and suddenly she could feel Ginny's pain acutely. "I wish I could help him too," she found herself saying. "He's been like the brother I've never had. I'd do almost anything for him."
Ginny looked up, chocolate eyes full of agony. "He said he'd meet me at the gates when he was done."
Hermione nodded, noting the choice of words. 'Always when, never if.'
Ginny swallowed, trying not to cry again. Her eyes still burned from earlier this morning. "Don't let me leave the gates until you think there's no hope. Promise me, no matter how late, you won't let me budge from those gates until you think it's hopeless." Her voice was thick with the effort to get the last few words out.
Hermione's throat closed, and she pulled Ginny up into a warm hug, nodding gently. "I promise," she whispered, petting the wild curls as Ginny buried her face in her shoulder, heaving dry sobs full of grief. Hermione could barely control her own tears.
There were steps from the directions of the boys' stairway, and both girls looked up to see Ron scramble down the stairs, eyes and hair wild, dressing-gown belted haphazardly around his bare waist. He saw his two favorite girls watching him silently, and swallowed. "Damn prat left, did he?" he asked as lightly as he could, heart plummeting at the sight of his sister's distressed face.
Hermione cleared her throat, and nodded. "Yes, Harry has gone."
Ron took a deep breath and sighed, looking much older than his 18 years. "All right, then. Looks like we've got a gang of Death Eaters to kill, eh girls?"
Ginny let out a half-laugh, half-sob at his words, and rushed across the room to embrace him, Hermione on her heels. He held them both in silence, rocking them slightly as morning arrived in full-force, and the tower came to muted life, all persons realizing the day had come as they trooped down the stairs, finding the usual friends together without their fourth.
~*~
Ginny slipped her wand into her pocket, watching smoke curl up to the clear night sky from the smoldering ruins of Hogsmeade from the gates of her half-destroyed school. Bodies littered the ground as far as she could see, and she was glad to see that most with swathed in black robes: Death Eaters, gone to the hell that awaited them. She had no pity for them; they chose the path of power, greed, evil, and she could feel nothing but hate for them.
But, as her eyes traveled the ground, she did feel anguish. She saw the crumpled form of Neville, dead in a blaze of glory; he took out MacNair. Colin was not far off, his usually bright eyes blank with death. Snape was by the lake; Dean was about 20 yards from her. Padma Patil, Professor Sprout, Susan Bones; All these good people, dead. She wanted to cry, but she had nothing left to give.
It had been a wretched, dirty fight that started in mid-afternoon, just as the temperature hit its highest. Death Eaters stormed the main part of Hogsmeade, and all the remaining wizards and witches at Hogwarts marched into battle, ready to fight to death. Dumbledore had disappeared from the ranks as the enemy neared the gates, and Ginny could only feel relief as he passed her. His bright blue eyes had reassured her, and he melted away from sight; he had gone to help Harry.
It began with a Death Eater-advantage as the enemy tossed every curse imaginable at the students and staff. Many were lost at the beginning, but that only made the survivors more determined. Blood was spilled with reckless abandon; Ginny couldn't think of the first hours without wanting to retch.
The tide began to turn in their favor by nightfall, after Professor McGonagall had declared the death of the headmaster, and the students became outraged. Who knew how she found out; Ginny didn't want to know. It had only increased her concerns for Harry triple-fold.
It had only been a little while after that when victory was declared, and the surviving Death Eaters surrendered. She had been rushing over to Hermione at the end when Draco Malfoy, as he was being taken away by a few Aurors, screamed at her: "The Dark Lord may be gone, but at least he took Potter with him!"
She had thrown a Stunning Spell at him before any Auror could stop her, and it didn't seem like anyone had minded. His words were ignored by everyone, and Hermione told her to forget him. Harry was fine, and he'd be back in no time.
That was almost two hours ago. Ginny bit her lip, and looked out towards the almost-leveled town, searching through the thick smoke for the tall, lanky form she loved so well, and saw nothing but smoke. Her heart plummeted. What if Malfoy was right? What if Harry had sacrificed himself to save the world from Voldemort? She couldn't live in a world without Harry. She didn't want to.
A hand touched her shoulder, and she winced. Someone had tossed a hex at her, and it had nicked her shoulder, causing massive bleeding and irritation. She didn't want it to be touched. She didn't want anyone touching her other than Harry.
"Ginny, I must have you come back to the castle. Madam Pomfrey must look you over. Your shoulder is dreadful." The tired, pained voice of Remus Lupin echoed next to her, and she sighed inaudibly. How must he feel, waiting for Harry? The only Marauder left since Sirius' death two years ago, Harry had fallen into his care. Harry loved the man as much as he loved Sirius, and Ginny was close to him because of her relationship with Harry. Was he worried? Had he lost hope?
"Ginny." Hermione was with him. Ginny turned, and saw her standing a bit behind Lupin, supporting a pale, bloodied Ron. She looked tired; her hair was covered in blood, her face was cut. She looked like she needed a long bath and a day's worth of sleep. "Listen to Remus. You look wretched."
Lupin pushed on her shoulder gently. "Come now, Ginny."
Silently, she let herself be led, pushed ahead by Lupin. She felt hollow, numb. They wanted her to leave the gates; they thought he wasn't coming back. Hermione even thought so. She wanted to die. Let the blood spout from her wounds; she didn't care anymore.
Hermione and Ron were about to follow when Ron let out a strangled noise of surprise. "Bloody hell," he breathed.
"Ginny, come back." Hermione's voice was high, desperate, and full of tentative hope.
Ginny whirled around, searching the smoky gloom. A lone figure was walking from the ashes of Hogsmeade, something torn and ragged in one hand, and a wand in the other. He was tall, lean, shoulders hunched with fatigue. A breeze floated by, and some of the smoke lifted, and the group could see his ragged, messy head of hair as he halted, staring right at them.
The breath left her lungs, and she clutched a hand to her throat, gasping for air. Ron was shaking his head, Hermione was on the verge of tears, and Lupin was shaking so hard Ginny thought he would fall. She stepped away from his hand, and went out into the open, willing herself to breathe. "Har...Harry?" she whispered, heart pumping wildly.
The man looked at her, and dropped his ragged cloak. "Gin?" he croaked.
A loud cry of joy left her mouth and she ran towards him, ignoring all the aching bones in her body, watching him come towards her slowly, pain etched on every facet of his face. She knew he was hurt, and she knew he had suffered. She didn't care; he was alive.
Harry swept her up in his tired arms as soon as she was in reach, silent tears running down his cheeks. She flung her arms around him, clinging to his shoulders, feeling him breathe against her. Sobs poured from her as she kissed him on his cheek, his chin, his nose. His knees buckled, and they fell to the stained ground, wrapped up in each others' arms, too tired to care who saw or how much they were hurting.
Ginny cupped his face in her hand, and met his blurry gaze. He smiled crookedly at her, and touched his forehead to hers. "I'm here," he stated, voice rough with unshed tears.
She kissed him gently, wiping away his tears with her fingertips. It was the first time she had seen him cry openly since Sirius' death, and she wanted to make it better for him, knowing how he hated to be emotionally vulnerable. "I know. I knew you would be," she replied with a voice just as cracked.
His grip tightened around her, and he rocked her as she kissed away his tears, eased his pain. They sat sprawled on the ground as midnight came and went, and the smoke cleared from the ashes of battle.