Here we go. A true heroic figure is someone who grows in tragedy. Harry and Ginny are two very heroic people. One wishes he was able to move on with his life – while the other wants him to do the same – and not forget why he came back.
Remember! We live for reviews

Harry Potter and the Arts of Healing

So much had happened in both the Magical and Muggle world over the past seven years. Some seventeen years ago a young family stood up and defied the most evil wizard of the age. The results were devastating. A young Auror and his wife, a Ministry of Magic Unspeakable, were dead leaving behind their only precious son.

Their son was the target. Lord Voldemort wanted him dead. It mattered little to him that the child's parents were foolish enough to stand in his way. He would kill the man and save the woman. He would enjoy her later — after he put to rest any concerns over a silly prophesy concerning him and her child. In the end, the Dark Lord only succeeded in leaving the child scared and orphaned. The price he paid was dear. But the price he would make the surviving boy pay for the rest of his childhood would nearly drive the boy insane.

Each time he met him, Voldemort exacted a heavy price on the boy. Each time, the boy either landed in the hospital or in the depths of guilt and depression.

His parents' murder landed him in a hell-on-Earth. He was forced to live with his mother's sister, Petunia Dursley. He was forced to live where his Magical heritage was nothing more than a disgusting "abnormality." His abnormality was treated by his forced-foster family as a contagious disease and him as nothing more than a leper. To them he was a piece of filth deserving nothing but the most meager subsistence to survive, and that was all they were obliged to provide.

This was the life that produced the Boy-Who-Lived-to-Destroy-Voldemort.

This was the life that produced Harry Potter.

Harry, faced with all his demons, killed the Dark Lord in a final battle on the grounds of the first home he really knew.

Hogwarts School of Wizardry and Witchcraft welcomed an eleven-year-old Harry. For six years the very walls engulfed him with security and as much warmth as the old castle could provide. In what would have been Harry's seventh year, it was that same castle that struggled, defending the Magical world's youth against the Death Eaters' onslaught aimed at ridding the world of Half-blood and Muggle-born children. It was the same castle and grounds that wept with the blood of its defenders and attackers alike — and suffered as its very walls crumbled under magical attack. This castle fought on the side of the Light. This castle paid the high price of watching its youth, as well as many of the people who had passed through as youths, die as the world it represented ripped itself apart.

If any place had a living breathing soul, then it was this place. These were the grounds and buildings that watched a young Harry Potter pit himself against the atrocity that was once another prized student.

Tom Riddle became the embodiment of evil as he slowly changed himself into Lord Voldemort. It was he who would kill Harry and in so doing, sealed his own and final death.

The Dark Lord, drunk with the knowledge that he had finally killed Harry Potter, never knew that while Harry was hunting down the vessels where Voldemort hid pieces of his soul, Harry and his friends were also gathering the means for victory. Voldemort never expected the attack that not only ended the shadow of a life he led, but also brought his enemy back to life. His defeat along with the destruction of his Horcrux — his bid at immortality — signaled the end of the war. It also signaled the victory of the Light over Darkness.

A prophesy foretelling the war made it clear that "neither shall live while the other survives" seemed to be fulfilled. Yet it left Harry wondering what was living.

Following the end of the war, a tired and broken Harry was left with little more than lost friends and family. He could not bear the pain of the funerals he attended. He recognized that he should have been happy. He finally had the chance for a future. But the cost of the war had, for him, exacted a price that was far more than he was ever prepared to imagine. He had did what he felt was his duty to his fallen friends and the Ministry at the funerals and memorial services. Harry had even accepted "shiny medals" for leading the final battle. It was a hollow gesture for a hollow victory.

Before he was old enough to walk, Harry's parents were murdered by Voldemort. His godfather, the man falsely imprisoned in Azkaban for twelve years for betraying his parents to the Dark Lord and for killing Peter Pettigrew, along with twelve Muggles was dead after Bellatrix Lestrange hit him with an Avadra Kedavra on a rescue mission of Harry at the Department of Mysteries. Lost were his surrogate godfather and godmother, Remus and Tonks Lupin. Harry's heart jumped into his throat every time he thought of the loss of his loyal house-elf friend, Dobby, as well as his long time familiar, Hedwig. Gone were so many of his friends from the Order of the Phoenix. Dead was his mentor, friend, and protector, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Hogwarts' headmaster.

The Weasleys' had buried one of their own too. They had paid a high price for the war. To Harry, they had not only paid with the flesh and blood of a son, they had paid with the soul of his twin brother as well. With Fred Weasley's death came the unfathomable grief George Weasley endured. Harry had counted every person killed by Death Eaters as a mark against him for not killing Voldemort sooner.

Now that it was all over, it was just Harry. Even though his closest friends survived, they had joined together in their grief. Ron lost Fred. And Hermione had almost lost Ron and her own life. Her parents had survived in Australia under the protection of her memory charm. After the Ministry had brought them back and helped Hermione bring back their memories, Hermione's father was so enraged by the story she told them about the battle and what she had been through that he attacked Ron.

Ron had done nothing to defend himself against the attack. He did the only thing he could think of doing and told Hermione's father that he loved her and wanted to marry her. Her father became more enraged and didn't stop until he beat Ron into unconsciousness. Hermione was devastated, first by her father's actions, secondly by her shock and uncharacteristic inability to move to stop her father before he attacked Ron.

It was because of the confusion surrounding them that Harry wanted them to have time to themselves. He hardly realized he was falling back into his old pattern of pushing away those who cared most for him. He was falling back into the belief that they would be able to do better without his interference.

He knew he didn't belong in their midst as they sorted out their relationship. He didn't know where he belonged. He wanted only to belong somewhere. He wanted to be able to feel again.

Molly Weasley, the family matriarch could see Harry struggling to find himself after the final battle. She understood that her sons and daughter were dealing with a heavy burden. If that weren't enough, her precious dear husband, Arthur had forestalled his grief and immersed himself in the rebuilding of the Ministry of Magic. She had her own grief to deal with but her family came first.

Despite her best efforts nothing relieved Harry or the rest of her battle-worn family from the anguish the war heaped on them. She could tell the entire family was doing their best to put up a strong front. But it didn't take much for any of them to fall into despair. It had become more than she was willing to endure. Even though the war was over they still suffered — and Harry was the worst. She could see he was lost. But there wasn't anything she could do except what she thought was best. To her, life revolved around the family.

If there was anything that would help bring her family comfort about their place in the Wizarding world, Molly thought, it would be a sumptuous Weasley meal and gathering. And she knew just the occasion to celebrate. She would call the family together to celebrate Bill and Fleur's interrupted wedding reception.

It would be a small affair that would take next to nothing for her to plan. She could bring everyone together and hopefully bring the family back into better spirits. Unfortunately, there was nothing small about even the smallest Weasley gathering. This event was going to have to include the Delacores as well.

Be that as it may, she decided the best thing to do was to get started and just start putting her family back together. It was then that she looked out the kitchen window at her ravin haired son as he walked the property.

In her heart Molly felt as though she could almost see the weight the young man carried across his shoulders in the form of grief and guilt.

Behind the Burrow Harry walked along not knowing Molly was watching him. He had taken to walking and thinking. He thought about the future and the past. He thought about what he should do with the rest of his life. The more he thought the more he found he felt empty. He thought of the girl he thought he loved with all his heart — but there was nothing there except exhaustion. There — where his love should have been, where his tears should have been, where his joy should have been — was nothing but a pain caused by emptiness. This was not the result he expected from "winning" the war.

When Voldemort had killed Harry, he had a moment at the train station at Kings Crossing where he was allowed to make a decision to return to life or to stay with everyone he lost. There, surrounded by his parents, godfather, and mentor, Harry decided he had to go back. He needed to continue on because he was in love. He wanted more than anything to make the family he never had a reality. He wanted to come back to Ginny. He made the decision to return in a place where pain was inexistent. His return put him back into the world of pain.

Harry struggled after the last battle to surrender to the pain. He wanted it to take away what it wanted from him and leave him alone. He hoped it would leave him with enough to carry on if he gave into it.

Whatever it was, it refused to be fair — it kept taking more and more life from him. The more he gave in to the pain, the more it wanted from him, and the further away he slipped.

This is how she found him.

Ginny found Harry in pain.

Ginny passed her mother standing at the kitchen window as she walked out the Burrow's back door and saw Harry standing at the far edge of the property. He had stayed with the Weasleys after the Battle of Hogwarts. He stayed because he had no other place to go or any reason to go. And the pain had no place to go either.

As Ginny approached Harry from behind she saw that his head was bowed.

"Harry, are you okay."

Harry didn't react with his normal, "I'm fine," answer. Instead he thought about his answer for a few moments.

"No," he whispered. "No… I'm really not doing too well at the moment."

He turned to face her.

Ginny was startled by what she saw. Harry's face had the look of a tortured soul. His emerald green eyes were rimmed with red and surrounded by dark circles. His skin was pale and hung from his face as though he had never known happiness. Even his normally unruly hair could not bring itself to show signs of life.

"I just can't stand it anymore. I just can't. I'm sorry I caused all of this…"

Ginny took another step towards him when he turned and Apparated away.

"You are not getting away with this, Harry James Potter."

****

He went back to Grimmauld Place and locked the doors. The Floo connection was closed and wards were put up to stop Apparition. Kreacher, Harry's surviving house-elf, had been instructed to keep the outside world from bothering him. Kreacher had done as he was instructed quickly and put up safeguard after safeguard to protect his master's privacy. He had placed wards, Confundus charms, and many other house-elf defenses on the house.

Harry had never redone the Fidelius Charm on Grimmauld Place, so anyone who knew of the house would still know where it was located. However, because Kreacher had placed so many defenses on Harry's house, it would take days for anyone to even be able to stand on the same side of the street as the house without the Confundus proving to be too strong for them.

Ginny, on the other hand, was not one to wait on anything, much less for Harry to pull himself out of his self-imposed exile. She knew that she might have to wait, but waiting while he was at the Burrow was the best she could tolerate. She felt his pain and tried everything she could to comfort him. They walked the grounds together in comfortable silence. Even though she could see the storm clouds of this coming tempest in his eyes, Ginny allowed Harry time to sort his feelings, guilt, and sorrow. She thought the time would come when he would start to open up to her.

Instead, he ran. As soon as he did, she knew she was going to have to do something to bring him back.

She vowed to herself she wouldn't stop until she brought him back to his senses. No matter how painful the emotions Harry was experiencing, running away was not the solution.

She was pretty sure where he went. Though the Burrow had been an escape for him from the rest of the world, the only place he could escape from the Weasleys and her had to be Grimmauld Place. If Harry was there, she knew he would put up a fight to stay there and keep others out.

She decided because of that that breaking through to Harry would need more of a direct approach. It would take all of her flying skills to break through to him.

Ginny immediately came up with her plan and decided nothing was going to stop her. She was going to find him and bring him back.

She ran into the house and borrowed Ron's Deluminator — the gift that Dumbledore bequeathed to him. She needed to extinguish all the lights surrounding Harry's house in an effort to hide what she was going to do from any Muggles. Ginny then ran to the shed to get her broom. She needed it and a great deal of luck. What she found was better — Harry's Firebolt was still there.

After she Apparated to Grimmauld Place the effects of the Confundus took effect. Disoriented and confused, she stumbled. The charm worked to first make her forget where she was going, and then why she was there.

She fought to overcome the effects. Stumbling, she made it to the other side of the street. It was then that she heard another "pop" of Apparation.

Standing on the far side of the street from Harry's house, Ginny and her best friend Luna Lovegood discussed the validity of Ginny's plan.

"You know, Harry may just want to be left alone," Luna said. "He's just finished killing Voldemort. And he may be looking for a bit of a rest from everything."

Ginny looked at her friend. She knew Luna meant well.

"Luna, what are you doing here? How did you find me?"

Luna continued as if Ginny had said nothing.

"Harry's a very complicated person. I think he's a bit too complicated for his own good," Luna said in her dreamy voice.

"He's not going to get better by running away. I'm here to help him realize that and bring him back to heal. He's not going to 'get away from it all' in there," Ginny said.

"Or do you mean he's not going to get away from you in there?" Luna asked.

Ginny could feel the heat rise on her face. She felt hurt. Could Harry really not want her? Could Luna be right? Could her plan be a selfish attempt to get Harry back into her arms and nothing more?

"But then again, you know Harry better than anyone else. Except for Hermione, of course, since she spent a whole year with him on the run," Luna said.

"Do you see Hermione here?" Ginny asked. "Besides, she is in no condition to help Harry. She has Ron. They are helping each other…as best they can.

"I need to get on with this," Ginny said, closing the door on any further discussion on what and why she was there.

"One thing I'm not clear on..." Luna said. "What am I doing here?"

Ginny huffed at her friend's total lack of reality.

"Luna, I asked you that when you first got here. But, as long as you are here maybe you can help me."

Luna's protuberant eyes opened wide.

"Oh, yeah, I went to the Burrow to ask if you wanted to go with me to Diagon Alley. My father wanted me to check on a Crumple-Horned Snorkack that was spotted there. Your mother said you and Harry were walking around the property. Since you weren't there, I just thought of you and Apparated. And here I am."

Ginny looked at her friend and decided she wasn't going to tell her anything was impossible. Instead she thought she'd make the best of the situation.

"Here's what I need you to do, Luna: if something goes wrong you have to make sure I get back home–or if need be, St Mungo's."

Ginny sighed and knew there was nothing holding her back from putting her plan into motion. She wanted to help Harry. She needed to help him after all he had been through. She needed to help him after all she had been through.

She mounted her broom, took a deep breath, and was about to kick off, when Luna grabbed her shoulder. Ginny flashed her eyes at her long-time friend anticipating an excuse for her not to continue.

"Good luck, Ginny," Luna said. "He'll be glad when he finds out you were the one to bring him out."

Ginny kicked off and gained altitude. Her plan was to fly straight into the front door with enough momentum to break through the Confundus Charm, while somehow keeping the broom from going too fast and killing herself when she hit the door.

She turned herself toward the door when she reached the right height and distance. She wiped her palms on her jeans to ensure her grip. Her heartbeat was quickening and beginning to pound in her ears. "This is it," she thought to herself.

She began her dive into what would one day become known to the Quidditch world as the Weasley breakout.

Because of her steep dive, she sped towards the house at two-hundred fifty miles per hour — faster than the firebolt had ever been clocked. At that speed the houses were nothing more than smears along her path. She hit the first alarm ward that sent a bolt of magical energy at her. She only made a small adjustment; at that speed, any major adjustment could put her through a wall. The spell the ward fired was intended for something going much slower than Ginny, and it missed her. She hit the second and third wards that did the same as the first, and they both ended in the same result: they missed.

Ginny smiled knowing that she was almost there. She thought she only needed to break through the Confundus. She was wrong. Kreacher had also installed an entry shield that she hit head-on.

The Firebolt's broom handle shattered on impact from the tip to where she had her grip. Her impact apparently collapsed the shield since she kept moving towards her goal.

The Confundus charm kicked in as she thought about reaching the door.

"Oh my god," she thought. "What the hell am I doing?"

For the briefest of moments, Ginny had forgotten why she was hurling herself at a door. She knew at this speed she would die if she didn't change direction immediately. Somewhere in her mind another thought fought to make her do something no one else had thought possible on a broom. She stopped. She dropped her speed from one-hundred fifty miles per hour to nil almost instantly. She had been slowed by the shield charm that left splinters in her hands — but she was still going fast enough to have made herself into a very big mess on Harry's door.

Her stopping point was only the slightest bit off target — a margin of error she didn't expect when the front six inches of her broom disintegrated. She was too far from the door to be able to reach it and avoid the effects of the Confundus.

Due to all of the wards being collapsed, however, an alarmed Kreacher had come to the front door and pulled it open. He stood with his mouth open as Ginny hovered motionlessly at the door.

He bowed low, his ears flopping to the ground.

"Mistress would like to enter," Kreacher said.

Ginny looked at the elf and knew she needed to do something. She was unable to think clearly or remember anything other than she needed to do something. She lowered her broom to the doorstep and dismounted.

Kreacher rose and stepped aside while beckoning her inside. She remained in place, still not sure what she should do; so much of this was against her better judgment. Her mother had taught her and her brothers not to go into strange houses. But, she also knew that the answer to a question she could not remember could only be found behind this door. What the question was didn't matter — she needed to move forward.

As soon as Ginny touched the façade, the Confundus was cancelled. As she moved through the portal her mind cleared, and she remembered who she was there for and what she was doing.

Kreacher knew that the red-haired young woman before him was about to take his master away again. To him, she was a threat and a blessing. He had to protect his master from the throngs of people wanting a piece of the Boy Who Lived, now the Man Who Died And Lived Again. He knew his master should have a life filled with the activities of a young man. His master should have the freedom to live and love as a young man. These things meant little to the old elf, but he knew they meant something to his master. Even if his master could not bring himself to live in the freedom he won for the entire world, Kreacher would protect him until he was ready.

Yet, there was this girl, his "Wheezy" as his master's other elf, Dobby, used to call her. She was here to take the master away. She might also be here to bring her master the freedom he so truly deserved.

"You may not stay here," Kreacher said to Ginny.

"I must see Harry, Kreacher," Ginny said, "and I must see him now. I am very concerned about him and want to know that he's well."

Kreacher sighed. He looked up at the young witch. "Master is alive and well," he said. "He is not wanting visitors and has told Kreacher to express his regrets for not being able to entertain."

Ginny reached out to Kreacher with her Quidditch reflexes and grabbed the elf by his neck.

"Listen here, you," Ginny began, leaving all pretenses of playing by the rules of polite society. "I don't care what you say. I must see him now."

"Or what," came a voice from the darkened hall.

"You'll kill my faithful house-elf?" it continued.

Ginny released the old elf. She could almost recognize the voice. It sounded like Harry's voice, but there was something about it that scared her. His voice sounded listless and dry. It was as if all emotion had been driven away from his voice.

"Harry?" she said. Her eyes began to squint into the dark hall, looking for signs that it was him. "Harry, please, is that you?"

There was a pause that she could tell was the conflict in Harry's mind. She so wanted to rush to him and bring him back out into the light.

"What do you want?" Harry asked.

"What do I want…" she parroted. "Is that all you have to say to me?"

Ginny's hair-trigger temper reached its tipping point. Her eyes flashed. Her face reddened with the heat of a woman scorned. This was not the reception she expected. This was not the reception she was going to tolerate either.

"Don't you dare speak to me like that, Harry James Potter," she said in a deadly growl. "I risked my life to come here, the least you could do is show me some proper manners. And, I might add, show me the respect I earned."

"No one asked you to come here, Ginny," Harry said. "And as far as you risking your life and deserving respect... Well, good on you for breaking through my home's defenses. Good job invading my home and intimidating my house-elf.

"Is there anything else you'd like to do?" Harry asked. "Maybe you'd like to burn my Firebolt or my house down? What do you want here? I don't really have the time for these school-girl games."

Ginny's mouth dropped in shock.

"Ginny, please stop deluding yourself — I don't have anything left to give. I just need to be left alone. You don't want anything to do with me anymore. I don't have any love left."

Ginny felt the stinging pain of Harry's words behind her eyes. She expected some resistance to her being here, but she didn't expect this kind of assault. She really didn't know what she expected. This was actually worse than her worst-case scenario.

This was an emotionless Harry. He sounded broken beyond her worst fears. This had to be her worst nightmare. This was her very worst fear. He didn't want anything to do with her anymore.

As she began falling into her worst fears, she drew her wand, concentrated, and yelled, "Riddikulus!"

The spell caused Harry to fall backward. His head began to swell like a child's balloon. His hands started swelling too. Soon, Harry was a bouncing beach ball.

Kreacher watched in silence as Ginny defeated his last defense of Grimmauld Place. The Boggart had been soundly beaten and was trying to get back into its hall closet.

Ginny turned back to Kreacher. She gave him a look that would brook no further nonsense from the house-elf, regardless of how much Harry trusted it.

"Very well, Mistress," Kreacher said. "Master will see you. He's wanting to keep the world from disturbing him again. But you shows Kreacher you won't let him be. Kreacher will not warn you again."

The old elf was doing his best to protect Harry. He had put Harry's desires above everything else, yet she had defeated him.

"Take me to him," she said.

Kreacher led Ginny to the kitchen. From there he guided her to the basement. Ginny had been in the basement before, in her third year. They had spent Christmas here and Harry's godfather, Sirius Black, had brought her here with his cousin, Tonks, to bring up some rather old and broken decorations.

"What's he doing down here?" she asked, not expecting an answer and not receiving one. They moved to the far end of the dank basement. There a door with a mirror leaned against the wall.

"You will find Master behind the mirrored door," Kreacher pointed out.

"What do you mean? The door doesn't go anywhere. It's just leaning against the wall," Ginny said.

"Open the door and follow the hall," Kreacher said. "I will tell Master you are here."

Kreacher turned to Ginny and leered at her.

"I will also tell him you broke into his home, broke his wards, and defeated the Boggart." Kreecher snapped his fingers and Disapparated.

Ginny went to the door and looked at it. It wasn't hinged or attached to anything.

"Oh well," she thought. "I hope it's not a Portkey. I'd hate to land anywhere with this great thing next to me."

Ginny pulled on the doorknob. As she pulled, it opened up to a long hallway.

Ginny was surprised. Sirius had never told her about this place. She stepped into the hallway and began walking. The walls were bare rock, as was the floor. The ceiling was made to look flat but very high. It was lit by a series of torch lamps that lit only as Ginny approached and went out as she moved to the next one.

She heard Kreacher speaking, but she could not hear what he was saying. She did hear the response.

"Oh no, Kreacher. She's here, now?" Harry said. "I don't know if I can see her. I don't know if she can forgive me. I don't think I could stand it if…" Harry paused.

"If what, Harry?"

The words hung in the air as a death sentence to all of Harry's thoughts. He was completely trapped. There was nowhere for him to go. He had to face her.

Harry turned to her with his head down.

"Look at me, Harry Potter," Ginny said. "What did I do to deserve this from you?"

Harry looked up with panic across his face. "Erm... I don't know what you mean," he said.

"Why have you cut me off? Why have you cut us out of your life? Why have you decided that we are not worth your time or effort? Why did you run away?" Ginny was about to continue when Harry interrupted.

"Is that what you think?" he said. "You think that I don't think you are worth my time."

Harry turned away from Ginny and back to the table he had been working on. He grabbed the edges and started to shake.

"Ginny, I don't think that I am worth your time," Harry started. "I can't see why you or your family would want anything to do with me. I have been nothing but trouble for you and your entire family. I'm no good for anything or anyone.

"The truth is…I think Voldemort won — he's the one who can truly move on, while I am stuck here."

Ginny's thoughts stumbled and swirled in her head. She couldn't believe what she was hearing.

"Harry, do you have any idea how silly you sound?" Ginny asked. "You know my parents have treated you like one of their own. They love you. They trusted you to take Ron with you. They entrusted Ron with taking care of you. They trusted you with me."

She walked up to him and put her hand on his shaking shoulder. "Are you truly that foolish to think that the Weasleys are so shallow to allow one of their own to suffer alone?

"Harry, what have you done to yourself that you've forgotten who we are and where we've been? Have you forgotten that you chose life for a reason?"

Ginny waited for a moment.

"Harry James Potter, I want an answer, and I want it right now."

Harry ran his hand through his hair. He knew in his heart she was right. But something stopped him from thinking she was right. He wasn't blood. He was a castaway who lived the first years of his life labeled as a freak by his aunt and uncle. He was the Boy Who Lived, left out of his culture and his inheritance. He was first a glory seeker, then a reckless attention-seeking liar, and then Undesirable Number One. He told himself his entire life had been the kind of celebrity reserved for criminals.

He turned again to face the most beautiful girl he had ever known. For three weeks she had made him happier than he had ever been. She cared about him. To her, he was just Harry. To her, he was all that he thought he was and nothing more. She was the reason he declined paradise.

"Ginny, I'm sorry," he croaked.

"What are you sorry for?" she asked. "I want to know what it is that you think you need to be sorry for because if you are wrong, I'm going to make sure I correct you."

This was becoming a lot harder than Harry imagined. First, the girl who has been invading his dreams for so long attacks and invades his house, and now she demands to know what he's thinking. She wasn't about to allow him the getaway he hoped for. Harry could only open and close his mouth before she stepped up to him and started poking him in the shoulder.

"That's right, Potter, you don't have a clue for what to be sorry for," she said. "And I'm here to tell you, you have nothing to be sorry for. You did what needed to be done. You were forced into an evil act and you killed an evil man. The world is a better place for it."

Ginny took a breath.

"But now here's the worst part," she said in a slower pace. "Even after you've won, you're going to let the ruddy bastard win by letting the memories of the war destroy you. And you are going to push away the people who fought next to you, who supported you, who died for you, and who lived for you.

"That, Harry, is the worst part. You're going to suffer because you can't allow yourself to win. You won't let us…"

Ginny stopped for a moment and looked into Harry's eyes. She felt like she could see the years of abuse and neglect Harry had endured growing up with his aunt and uncle, as well as the seven years of struggle he faced, up to the time he walked right up to Voldemort and allowed himself to be killed, weighing him down. His shoulders were slumped and his normally deep emerald green eyes were darkened. When Ginny started again, she hitched her breath.

"Harry, I won't go on without knowing if you still care."

To Harry, Ginny had been everything he thought he was fighting for during the war. He wanted her to be safe. He wanted everyone to be safe. He wanted them to be able to live their lives without the fear of a madman hanging over their daily lives. He truly loved this girl in front of him. He wanted to be able to say it to her. But, so many things stopped him from saying anything.

"Harry, come back with me. You need to heal and are expecting it to happen overnight. As you can tell, you need some help. Let me help you heal."

She struggled with her next words, looking down at her feet. "Harry, you have to want to heal. And only you can decide to heal…"

She stopped and looked into his eyes. She reached for and took his hand in her own. "And only you can help me heal."

The last of his barriers came crashing down with her words. Now he had a reason to bring himself out of despair.