Chapter 15

Let all be Well

Ginny's Age: 16

There will be no more houses, he said. All Slytherin, all the time. I suppose that also meant no more muggle-borns. Muggles would become lower than house-elves. And blood-traitors? Ginny knew she was a goner. Why even try?

Ginny had spent months fighting the Carrow's. She risked death and faced injury. But what was it for? It seemed that they were merely holding down the fort until Harry came. Until Harry came to save Hogwarts. To save the wizarding world.

Harry couldn't do that any more? Harry was dead. There was no use trying. Ginny's knees hit the ground. She sat back on her heels, allowing her head to flop forward, her back hunched.

She couldn't live for Fred. She couldn't live for Harry. She couldn't live for the freedom of human kind. Why live?

Ginny's head snapped up from her abyss of hopelessness as Neville tripped past her. He shouted something about not surrendering. So did Ron. Stupid boys. Didn't they know it was over? Bow down to Voldemort or die. Those were their choices now. Peering up through a curtain of hair and blurred vision, Ginny watched as Neville's head burst into flame.

Lucky, she thought. He'll die quickly. He won't have to watch his beloved world deteriorate.

There was commotion. Loud sounds. Footsteps. Battle cries. What was going on? They were fighting. Why? Didn't they see how it was?

Give up! Go home! Flee to Siberia; it's your only hope!

Neville stopped blazing. He pulled something shiny from a charred rag on the ground. The sword! So that was what Snape did with it! Ginny pulled herself into a crouch. Neville… he… he chopped off the snake's head? If he was going to put up a last hurrah, he was going to chop of snake's head? What the hell? Was he confunded? Crazy? Too many Cruciatus Curses?

Ginny heard people storming towards the castle.

"Why are they fighting?" she whispered.

Hermione gazed pathetically at Neville, who had begun shouting battle cries. "We're all just going to die," she whispered.

Ron pulled out his wand, smiling at his sister and friend, "Well," he stated, "I don't know about you, but if I'm going to die, I'm going to take out as many Death Eaters as I can on the way, hmm?"

"Why?" Ginny asked. "Why bother?"

Ron shrugged, "Harry would have."

Ginny's heart smacked against her rib cage. Who was she to let Harry down? Seizing her wand, she jumped to her feet. "For Harry!" Kreacher shouted the same thing as he stabbed a kitchen fork into a Death Eater's ankle.

The jets of light were indistinguishable from each other. Though she was vaguely aware of blasting Goyle through a window, she couldn't exactly tell what was happening. She remembered her attempt at fighting Bellatrix Lestrange, along with Hermione and Luna, but being pushed aside by her mother.

That moment revealed so much of her mother that Ginny so often overlooked. Her mother had gone through two wars, raised so many children, been a member of the order, taken in Harry as another son. She fought and killed and cried and lost. She did a lot more than knit sweaters and cook dinner. She was a strong and empowered woman—a woman not to be messed with. Bellatrix Lestrange learned that lesson in the most difficult way imaginable. And though Ginny did not approve of killings, she has a hard time feeling sympathy for the witch.

"Go, Mum!" Ginny shouted. I am my mother's daughter, she thought. And bloody hell, that's a really great daughter to be.

Smiling, Ginny spun around. She cast several more curses, artfully dodging several others. A bit of black caught her eye.

Was that?

Oh, no, it couldn't!

Merlin!

Merlin, Dumbledore, Harry!

Harry Potter!

T'was around that time when Ginny passed out. Or, if she didn't pass out, something close, because Ginny was certainly not of the current mental capacity to comprehend Harry's discussions with Voldemort. After all, Harry was dead.

All that Ginny saw was Voldemort fall, and Harry stand tall.

There was a moment of silence. Of comprehension. And then a roar of utter jubilation.

Small and light on her feet, Ginny was the first person to reach Harry. Wrapping her arms around his waist, she clung for dear life. That's what Harry had given her, life.

Other crowded around Harry, grabbing and hugging, eager to celebrate with their savior. Because of this, Ginny was almost positive that Harry could not tell that she had been hugging him for nearly a half of an hour. He'd have said something if he knew. After being pushed aside by an overly exuberant Hagrid, Ginny made the rounds of the Great Hall before settling onto a bench beside her mother.

"Mummy," she said.

"You've been very brave, Ginny," Mrs. Weasley replied.

"So have you Mummy," she whispered, nuzzling against he mother. "Thank you for saving me from Bellatrix. Thank you for… for raising me to be the way I am."

"Oh, honey," Molly stroked her daughter's hair. "I just helped, it's you who made you so wonderful."

Sitting quietly for several moments, Ginny spoke, "It won't be the same. Without Fred."

"No," Mrs. Weasley answered. "It will never be the same. But that doesn't mean it has to be bad. If we started crying, I can picture Fred up there, trying to hit us with Tickling Jinxes until we smiled."

Ginny giggled.

"Umm, Mummy?" she asked tentatively.

"Mmm hmm?"

"What do we do now?"

"Right now, you sleep. Would you like me to take you home, or would you like to head to Gryffindor Tower?"

"I think I'll sleep here tonight. I've missed it." Though the day was just beginning according to the sun, it felt like night-time to Ginny.

Kissing her mother, she wandered toward Gryffindor Tower. Instead of heading toward her own dormitory, Ginny veered the other way, toward the boys'.

Carefully pushing the door open, she stepped inside. Harry laid on the bed nearest the window. He'd even left his shoes on. Ron and Hermione took another two beds of the room. Their arms stretched across the gap, hands drifting apart as they fell into deeper sleep. Ginny smiled; at least Ron wasn't as stupid as he looked. He did get the girl.

With the little strength she had left, Ginny dragged a rocking chair from the corner, over the Harry's bedside. Scrambling into it, she curled into a ball. Instinctively, her hand found Harry's.

"Thank you, Harry," Ginny whispered. "You've done it again. I'm sorry it cost you so much."

The small girl settled into herself whilst attempting to free her mind. There was much to think about. Her family was falling apart, so many had died, Hogwarts was crumbling, there was a definite possibility of Ginny not having a seventh year, and Harry. There was a definite possibility Harry would never be the same.

At the very least, there would be months before he stopped blaming himself. Many more months would follow before he would figure out what to do with his life. He'd recently acquired an orphaned godson that he was ill equipped to care for. He had no place he could call his home without hesitation. And even after he had it all figured out, he might sink into guilt, depressions, and nightmares for the rest of his time on earth.

Ginny knew that they would not rush into each other's arms the next morning, declaring undying love. In fact, if she remained by his bed when he awoke, it would be a very awkward situation. It would be weeks at the very least before they began a relationship again. Perhaps, they never would. Yet Ginny chose not to care. The boy that Ginevra Weasley loved had left for a year, with no word of how his day was, if he was well, or if he was dead. Ginny felt that she was entitled to these few hours of carefree bliss.

If only for that day, let all we be well.

Disclaimer: Haven't you read today's headlines? I now own the rights to Harry Potter after having not owned it for the past decade or so of its existence.

A/N: THE END! That was fun! I'd always sort of wondered, not just what Ginny's view was, but what was she doing when he was fighting Voldemort or winning a tournament? Was she standing perfectly still, hanging on his every word? No! She was thinking and feeling and breathing and shifting her feet and whispering to the people next to her! That was very fun. Sorry to everyone who I was rude to for abandoning my story. I'm sorry; I wasn't really serious. I hardly ever am. Not true—I can be very serious when I need to. Remember, even when this story is five years old, still review! I'll check my e-mail forever, I promise! Stay tuned for whatever I'm up to next.

THANKS FOR STICKING WITH ME!

Love, Mebmarker24