A/N: :winces as reviewers from Fairy Tales Just Aren't For Me glare: Hey, I have a very valid reason why! Good news is it isn't a writer's block. It's an, uh, typing block. I know what to write...just not how to write it without it sounding like a two-year-old wrote it. But this one-shot has been on my mind ever since Forever Yours. I kept stopping because I would get a little misty-eyed and wonder what the heck did I just write?
But anyways, I like what came out and decided I would post it. And yes, I know, very angsty. Very unlike me as I'm a fluffy sort of person but hey; some angst is good once in awhile, right? Makes it more dramatic and heart wrenching...hope you all like this story as much as I loved writing it (with many misty-eyed moments and almost crying me. Yes, I'm a loser but I was a bit depressed since I was listening to a sad song).
Summary: Ginny Potter was kidnapped for a month before Harry Potter found her and witnessed her death. Living in agony, he relives moments he spent with her and his guilt for putting her life in danger. But is she really dead? ONE-SHOT. Angsty and a bit of a happy tone at the end of the story.
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters.
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I Will Always Wait For You
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Harry Potter stared coldly at the casket in front of him, ignoring the brisk, harsh winds as they blew against his already frozen figure. He didn't need to cold air to feel cold; he already felt numb and empty.
They were lowering the casket now. A sob broke out from the already weeping crowd assembled there on that October day. Molly Weasley stood near the front of the crowd, watching as the casket was lowered into the space where it would be for eternity. In the cold, cold ground. Forever. Another sob came erupted from her throat and Harry flinched at the anguish filled in it.
He had caused it. She would deny it forever, say it wasn't his fault, but he knew, deep in his heart, he had caused this pain to be brought up onto her. If it weren't for him, she would be alive.
Harry felt someone squeeze his rough right hand and didn't have to turn to see who had tried to offer comfort. Hermione had been doing the same gesture every now and then, whenever she thought he would collapse with grief and sorrow.
Ron was standing by his wife's side and had his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, as if he let go, he would lose her too. Silent tears were coursing down his cheeks and he stood perfectly still.
It was much like Harry's composure, except Harry was stiff and rigid, his face severe. His jet-black hair was tousled looking, from the sharp gusts of wind. It looked as though someone had run their hand through it…
The redhead cocked her head as she looked up at him, with a mischievous look in her eyes. She took a step closer to him, effectively having him backed into a wall. He stared down at her, his eyes filled with desire.
She whispered at him, her voice low, "Harry dear, is that nervousness I see in your eyes?"
He leaned forward, his lips brushing her cheeks before settling near her ear, before whispering, breathing gently against her, "Harry Potter is not frightened of a challenge, darling."
A quirk of an eyebrow before a whispered, "Really?" She then had her hands behind his neck, pulling him towards her in a kiss.
He responded quickly, losing himself in her. But he was still aware of slender fingers expertly threading through his hair, combing it with his fingers. Her cool fingers would meet with his scalp and keep moving around, massaging his head.
Even when they went on a small "break", he wouldn't let anyone else run their hands through his hair. It was her thing and she would only be allowed to do it.
The crowd was beginning to depart, murmuring words of comfort to one another. Some people braved the still not moving Harry Potter and patted his shoulder in a reassuring way before leaving. He continued staring into the hole where his wife was to be buried into.
Colorful leaves gently fell to the ground, twirling as they landed gracefully on the green grass. It was a beautiful sight to witness yet Harry took no notice to anything but the casket, his eyes were attached to it.
"It's a bit chilly," Hermione said quietly, her brown eyes peering into her best friend's face, looking for some type of emotion. There was nothing but hardness and a detachment that had never been there when he was with the beautiful deceased woman.
Harry didn't respond but continue watching the casket, another blast of cold air striking against him.
"Harry…" Hermione said, touching his arm hesitantly. He stiffened even more and she quickly removed her hand, a faint tinge of pink coming onto her face as she looked away.
"C'mon, mate," Ron said, clearing his throat, moving forward a bit. "We – We can go to 'Mione and my flat. You know…just…talk…" he trailed off, his ears flaming red at the hopeless case.
"She'll never talk again," Harry said suddenly, startling the two. His voice sounded hoarse, as if he wasn't sure how to use it. "She'll never smile again, never laugh again, never cry again…why should we be privileged to do so while she's dead?"
Hermione looked at Harry, her eyes full of compassion and sympathy. Harry didn't want to see her brown eyes…her wanted to see another's, the one's that used to stare at him with love and affection.
He nipped at her neck and she arched her neck, closing her eyes and her breaths coming back in sharp gasps. Her hands were in his hair, as usual, yet he still felt the thrill and comfort.
She giggled, sending shocks through Harry. She asked in a soft voice, amusement laced in each word she spoke, "Aren't you suppose to be helping me study my Charms test tomorrow?"
Harry stole a kiss off her soft lips, his green eyes dancing. "Yes, and we are studying Charms." He nuzzled his nose in her neck. "Seeing if you can resist the charms of Harry James Potter."
The girl laughed gently before pushing him off her. Her red hair spilled over her shoulders and behind her as she looked up at him, a smile on her face. She swung her legs off the couch and sat up straight.
Harry, disappointed, tried not to let it show as he sat up straight, trying to straighten his shirt and free it of the wrinkles.
The redhead rolled her eyes, catching his disappointment. She gave Harry a peck on the cheek, her lips lingering a millimeter from his cheek. "Maybe later," she whispered. "After you help me finish studying."
Harry chuckled before gazing into her brown eyes that were twinkling. "You know, I love your eyes," he said, wrapping his arms around her petite figure. "I love watching them shine, especially if it's because of me."
He watched as they held the familiar playful look in them. "Who said it was because of you, Mr. Potter? Getting a bit cocky now, aren't you?" The brown orbs laughed merrily as they stared at the smiling black-haired boy.
"Come, Harry," Hermione's soft voice said. "We need to get out of this cold weather; you'll get a cold."
"She will be cold forever. She will lie in that…that thing for all eternity, in the ground."
Hermione sighed. "Harry, she wouldn't want you living like this! You're going to get yourself killed if you keep acting like this, you know? You're making this harder than it truly is."
"Because it is hard, Hermione," Harry snapped frostily, his tone matching the chilly winds. "Do you honestly think that I can jump back up after today, with a silly smile on my face, as you are planning on doing, pretending nothing ever went wrong?"
"I am not going to pretend she didn't die, Harry."
"Yet you are going to pretend everything is wonderful, aren't you?"
Hermione fell silent and watched the Boy Who Lived continue staring at the casket, his eyes cold and distant. They held none of the happiness he had when she had been alive, there to lift his spirits. She knew if she was here, she would tell him to live his life and don't lose years in his life mourning over her.
"Is your mother still here, Ron?" Harry asked quietly.
Ron looked uncomfortable but shook his head. "No. She left with dad and…and the rest," he finished up lamely, not wanting Harry to remember the deaths of Bill and Percy.
"She left because she knows it is my fault."
"It isn't your fault, Harry," Ron said firmly. "It isn't anyone's fault. She wanted to stand by your side and no one was going to tell her otherwise. She chose to be with you, Harry, and – "
"And look where it got her," Harry finished, grimly. "Dead. Along with Bill, Percy, Hagrid, Dumbledore, Lupin…" he trailed off, too many deaths to recount and speak of aloud.
"She died with the baby," Harry said. "She died with our baby." He stared ahead, his eyes distant with remembrance. "The baby she was so happy to have…the baby she wanted so badly…"
"Harry," she said sweetly, wrapping her arms around Harry when he had his back turned, startling him. He turned and saw her looking at him, utmost glee in her brown eyes. "Guess what?"
"Err – " Harry said, a bemused expression on his face. "You're going to run away and get married with another man?"
She rolled her eyes and smacked his arm playfully. "Harry! Do you want me to run off with another man?" She smirked. "Sorry, buddy, you're stuck with me. Ever since I set eyes on you, you have been."
Harry nibbled on her earlobe. "That's good to hear," he muttered, inhaling her sweet scent. "Wouldn't want to have to go and beat up the bloke who was looking at my girl wrong."
"How heroic and noble of you," she said dryly, sarcasm laced in her words.
"What's the news you got?"
"Do you really want to know?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "You looked as though you didn't want to stop playing with my earlobe."
"It's a very sexy earlobe," Harry replied.
"What about my other earlobe?"
Harry chuckled, pulling away before putting his forehead to hers. "Tell me; what's the news you seem to be bursting with?"
She smiled and she seemed to glow. "You remember I went to the doctor's yesterday, right? Since I haven't been feeling all too well."
Harry nodded, frowning. "Yes…"
"Good news is that it isn't a disease or anything bad."
"And the bad?"
Her smile grew. "Only better news." She leaned in and whispered into his ear. "I'm pregnant."
"The Healers tried to save them both, Harry," Hermione said slowly. "But she was already so weak…the baby couldn't have stood a chance…even if she did make it through and had the baby, one of them would've died."
"They should've tried harder," Harry barked, showing the first true emotion ever since the funeral had begun. "They should've done something…they were the best Healers in the world. Why couldn't they save her?"
"They are only humans, Harry."
Harry shook his head, trying to block the words out. "No. No, no, no. They could've done something – I could've done something – there had to be something…anything that would've saved her – "
"You are only human," Hermione said in a snapping voice, trying to make him see reason. "You are only human like the rest of us."
"Oh yeah?" Harry asked bitterly. "Then why am I the Boy Who Lived, the Boy Who Survives Every Single Frickin' Time? Couldn't she have survived? The people – they make me sound as though I'm immortal – as though I am so powerful – if I was, I could've stopped her death – I could've stopped her life from leaving her – I should've tried harder – "
"'Never dwell on the things you could've done,'" Hermione recited quietly. "'Whatever is done, is done. We have made our decisions and will live with the consequences. Do not look back; look forward towards the future and what it holds for you.'"
"Shut up," Harry whispered, his heart thumping; how many times had she recited those words to him, whenever he thought back to Sirius's death and how he could've stopped it. "SHUT UP!" His scream echoed off the trees around and birds scattered, petrified.
"She didn't know this was going to happen," Harry said. "She didn't know she was going to die fighting…she didn't bloody know – "
"She did, Harry," Ron said. "She knew what she was getting into, even when you two started out as girlfriend and boyfriend – back in your seventh year – she knew what the dangers and risks it was to be with you – yet she accepted them because she loved you. She loved you, Harry."
"And I loved her. But how does that help anything, Ron? Hmm? If I hadn't been so selfish…it I hadn't wanted – needed – her so badly, she wouldn't have been a main target…"
"You told her, Harry. You told her what it would cost to be with you. Don't you remember?"
They sat in the common room, the fire blazing and illuminating their young faces. Young faces, so young…yet one was burdened with a prophecy, the other frightened for his safety. They had seen so much…
"It isn't safe for me to feel this way," Harry whispered, watching as the light flashed off the red hair's vibrant colors, making them come alive. Her beautiful face was glowing and lit up her eyes, except her eyes were filled with a small amount of hope.
"To feel how, Harry?" She whispered. When the Boy Who Lived offered her no response but looked away, she questioned again, "To feel how? What are you feeling?"
"It is best if they aren't spoken aloud," he whispered hoarsely.
"Tell me," her voice was persistent. When he continued refusing to meet her eyes, she grabbed his chin and forcing his chin to meet her brown eyes. "Tell me." Her eyes pleaded for an answer and he felt himself drowning in her eyes, willing to do whatever she asked of him to do.
"From the first time we met here," he whispered, gesturing at the empty common room, where they had met in secrecy at night. "I felt something towards you. At first, I couldn't decipher it; it wasn't a feeling I had felt before. But then we continued meeting and then it hit me as we passed each other in the hallway. You surrounded by your friends, immersed in speaking with them. Yet you took a moment to pause and flash a smile at me. And then…then I knew.
"I am deeply and madly in love with you. I watch you whenever I can get a chance or when no one is watching, then no one will know. I watch how you reassure younger kids and give them encouragement; I've seen how you defended others from people like Malfoy. I have seen how wonderfully…perfect you can be."
There were tears in those brown eyes and continued watching him, searching him to see if it was the truth or not.
"But I can't love you," he whispered. "I can't love you because if I love you, Voldemort will find out and he'll kill you, he'll use you as means to get to me. And it would be selfish if I took you as mine and put you in danger." He turned away. "That is why you need to keep away from me."
The girl was silent, watching him before threading her hand through his, drawing his eyes back towards her. She looked intently into his eyes and whispered, "I am ready to face any danger, as long as you are by my side. I love you, Harry James Potter."
"I'm going home," Harry said curtly and left without a word, leaving Hermione to burst into tears and Ron to draw her closer to himself as they stared at the space where Harry had been.
∞∞∞∞∞
The Boy Who Lived took another drink of the Firewhiskey, his third bottle. He was sitting in the rocking chair he had made for his wife, so she could rock the baby to sleep…
"Keep them close," Harry said, his hands covering her eyes. He led her into the nursery and smiled at his creation that stood in the center of the room.
She rolled her eyes, although it went unnoticed by him. "C'mon, Harry!" she said in a fake whining voice. "Harry, let me see!"
"Not yet," Harry said, pausing dramatically before removing his hands. "Now."
Her eyes flew open, excitement shining as the brown eyes caught sight of a wooden rocking chair in the middle of the room. She gasped, a hand shooting to her mouth, covering it while her brown eyes widened.
"Harry…did you…?" She couldn't seem to form the words as she looked at her husband, her face completely bewildered. The eyes softened as she moved towards the rocking chair, her hand touching it tentatively.
"Did you make this?" she asked Harry, turning to look at him while her hand was still running over the surface, her eyes wide.
Harry smiled sheepishly before nodding. "Yeah…it might not be too good," he said quickly, wondering if he had made a mistake. "I mean, I did it without magic, the muggle way, since I thought I should put a bit of an effort in it and I – "
He was cut off when she grabbed Harry and pulled him into a tight embrace.
"I love you, Harry," she mumbled against his chest, her voice muffled by the cloak he wore. "This is the best present I've gotten for the baby. Thank you."
His hand ran along the surface, wishing to feel the coolness of her fingers as they had run atop the same surface, the first time he presented it to her. He felt tears trickling down his cheeks as he took another sip, letting the liquid burn at his throat.
The glass slipped from his hand and shattered onto the floor, breaking into many pieces. He ignored it and picked up another Firewhiskey and popped open the top, quickly drinking half the bottle.
Memories began to fly through his mind…the first time they kissed, the time she had tackled him in the snow, the morning kisses when they woke up, when she and him had got locked in a broom closet and made the best of it…
The day she died.
Curses and hexes flew around, voices screaming spells. There was screams of pain and fright; screams of triumph and victory from both sides. Harry watched it as he moved his way to the figure cloaked in black, on top of the hill where Lord Voldemort stood, observing the bloodshed.
"Harry Potter," the snakelike man said coldly, turning around to look at Harry with red eyes. A smile twisted at his face. "What a pleasure to see you."
Harry's wand hand shook with rage as he glared with hatred at the man before him. "Where is she?" he asked in a deadly quiet voice. When he received no response, he bellowed, "WHERE IS SHE?"
Voldemort chuckled, sounding quite amused. "She?" He asked innocently, although the look in his eyes were anything but innocent. "Whoever do you mean, Harry Potter?"
"You know damn right who I mean!" Harry yelled. "You kidnapped her a month ago; you took her and I want her back! Give her to me!"
"Tsk, tsk, Harry, you sound as though you are a whining child," Voldemort said, his eyes glinting maliciously. "Where are your manners? I thought that Mudblood lover Dumbledore would teach you to respect your elders, boy."
"Tell me where she is," Harry said, his voice shaking with repressed rage. "TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!"
Voldemort laughed again. "Impatient young fellow, aren't you?" he asked. "Very well, very well." With a wave with his wand, a woman appeared next to his feet, her red hair acting as a curtain to conceal her face. "Is this the girl you want?" Voldemort sneered.
Harry ignored him and looked at the woman, who was limp and not moving at all. There were bruises on her arms and she looked battered. He tried to control his racing heart as he stared at the redheaded girl, who was so full of life and was reduced to this.
"What have you done to her?" Harry demanded Voldemort, his accusing eyes turning to the cruel man. "What did you do to her?"
Voldemort merely stared at Harry, a triumph look in his eyes. "What did I do? Why," his lips curled into a merciless smile; a cruel smile, "I only inflicted the Crucituas Curse on her..."
"You practically killed her…" Harry said numbly, his eyes still focused on the body of his wife. "YOU GOOD AS KILLED HER! LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE!"
Voldemort laughed cruelly and the woman began moving, moaning in pain.
Harry made a step forward but Voldemort held his wand threateningly at the woman. "Don't move, Potter," he drawled out softly. "Or your wife dies at my hands."
"Harry?" The woman moaned and she lifted her head weakly. Emerald eyes met brown eyes and the brown eyes filled with tears and pain. "Harry…it is you…but it can't be…"
"Shush, I'm here," Harry said, not taking his eyes off his wife. There were scars and bruises all over her beautiful face and her lips were caked with blood, all chapped. "I'm here and you're going to be all right."
The brown eyes flashed dangerously. "Get…away…" she gasped out. "You…it's…your fault…I was kidnapped…all your fault…all the pain I went through…all…your…fault…"
"No, you can't – you don't mean that, you don't," Harry said desperately, all the while wishing she would stop the accusations; he could feel his guilt pumping feriously in his veins, ready to engulf him in its clutches.
"You're the reason he kidnapped me!" the woman screeched, although it hurt her to say those words. "If I had never married you, I would be safe! It's your fault they've done this to me! I hate you!"
"No…" Harry whispered, his green eyes filling with pain. "No, you don't mean that…"
The redhead nodded furiously, emitting a soft moan of pain. "I hate you, I hate you, I HATE YOU!" she repeated furiously. "It's all your fault! Everything is your fault!"
Harry made a step forward and Voldemort cackled. "Is Potter feeling a bit hurt?" he mocked, smirking. "Is she hurting you? Don't worry; I'll put an end to your little heartache, Potter." He raised his wand and said, "CRUCIO!"
"NO!" Harry screamed but the woman – whose eyes had widened in fear – was hit with the petrifying light, successfully hitting her and making her head hit the ground with a soft thump. She twitched on the floor before, suddenly, her twitching body became an inert body…
"No…"
The rocking chair's legs hit the floor in a rhythm, pounding against the floor every time Harry went forward or backwards. He went faster and faster, and the pounding became more intense, faster and harder.
It is my fault, Harry thought, oblivious to the fact he was rocking madly, tears streaking down from his emerald green eyes. I should've had her better protected; I should've been there to protect her…
I should've been at the safe house when they attacked and kidnapped her.
The redhead woman, four months along in her pregnancy, frowned at the two-floor house as Harry showed her around the rooms, trying and failing to put on a cheerful face.
"I don't like it here," she said when the tour ended. The frown was still on her face as she looked up at her husband. "I don't feel safe here at all."
"Trust me, you're safe," Harry said, chuckling. "We've got this place protected; you'll be much safer here than back home. I know you might miss the drawing room but you can make the best of this house."
She shook her head, a defiant expression coming onto her face. "No, Harry, I mean it. I'm being serious here; something just isn't right. I'm just getting an…off feeling."
"Sure it isn't coming from the baby?"
Brown eyes flashed and they held no amusement or the usual sparkle. "Harry, stop it! You are taking this far too lightly!" she lowered her voice, "And I don't like the idea that our Secret Keeper is someone we don't know."
Harry frowned. "Look, it is safer this way. Voldemort will probably go after one of your family members and won't think of attacking a low-class Auror; it's perfect and you'll be safe, my dear, and all's good."
She frowned, not looking convinced. "Who is the Auror?"
"Some guy named Chris Rollings. He has a family; three kids – one of them a baby – and a wife. He won't go betraying us; he knows how it is to go protecting a family."
"Still…" she said, looking hesitant. "I'm just worried for my baby's safety."
"Our baby," he corrected gently, kissing the top of her head. "Don't worry; I wouldn't let anything happen to you or our baby."
She sighed, admitting defeat. "All right, Harry but promise me one thing: today, after work, go check up on the Rollings family. Please?" she pleaded when she saw the frown on his face. "Just to make me feel better."
Harry sighed but nodded. "All right. Speaking of work, I got to." He kissed his wife. "I love you."
"I love you too…" she whispered before he Disapparated for work.
Harry Apparated in front of the Rollings' house, closing his eyes and inhaling the air. Work had been rough and he just wanted to go home and relax and spend some time with –
The emerald eyes snapped open as the smell of smoke hit the young wizard's nostrils. He saw before him a house that was black with soot and that there had been a fire that had been put out. All the windows were broken open and the door was creaking, only a few hinges holding it.
Harry moved forward swiftly and entered the house, seeing destruction everywhere. Curse and hex marks were marked on the walls and he made his way through the small house.
He stopped when he made it to the family room.
All crouched in a corner was a family of four, their lifeless eyes staring back at him. A man was lying in the middle of the room, face down, but clearly dead. His clothes were thrown and there were scars on his body.
Harry gently moved the body over to look into the face and was met with his worse fear: the face that met his eyes was none other than Chris Rollings, as he had seen some photos of the jolly looking man.
Without another word, he Apparated immediately to the safe house, pleading that she was safe and hadn't been hurt. His quiet prayers were not granted as he stared at the damaged house before him.
It was still standing but there were hex marks on the outside of the house, as though someone was trying to blast their way through. The door was wide open and Harry saw that the vase they had placed in front was on the floor, shattered into a million pieces.
Harry's stomach fell to what seemed to be an abyss; it kept falling and falling, making him feel sick as he looked at the house in front of him, the house that clearly had been attacked…
He immediately entered, swallowing at the lump that had entered his throat. There were hex marks everywhere as well and the picture frame that had been up was now laying broken on the floor, the glass broken as though someone had trampled on it. There were hex marks on both sides of the wall, meaning that the person being attacked had fought back.
Harry continued on, moving as though in a dreamlike state. He moved through the small house, into the kitchen where pots were thrown everywhere and the tablecloth ripped down onto the floor as someone probably had slipped and grabbed hold of it.
The stairs leading up were littered with debris, the person throwing things at her attacker as she tried hastily to make an escape. Harry went up the stairs numbly, feeling as though he were in a trance. He saw out of all the rooms, only one door was closed. Feeling dread fill him, his hand came in contact with the doorknob and he squeezed his eyes shut before throwing it open.
He felt as though someone punched him in the stomach and was repeatedly doing so as he looked around the bedroom, his emerald eyes wide.
Destruction was everywhere but it was obvious what had happened. His wife had tried escaping through the window, which was still opened, but had been caught before she could leave. There were shoe marks on the ledge, indicating this to the young Auror. A wand lay broken on the floor.
But the worse part was the message written in blood red, above the bed. A message he would never forget or remove from his mind:
GINEVRA POTTER IS IN OUR POSSESSION. SHE WILL SUFFER FOR YOUR MISTAKES, HARRY POTTER.
"All my fault…" Harry mumbled, rocking faster and faster, the tears coming faster, blurring his sight. "She died because of me…the baby and her…oh, Merlin, she's DEAD!"
He downed another drink, relinquishing the burning sensation he felt as the liquid seeped down his throat. He wanted that pain, deserved the pain. He deserved all the shit that he could get, for letting her down.
For breaking his promise.
He watched her, his breath ragged and harsh as he sat in the bed. The moonlight shone on her, casting a glow on her, her red hair shining silkily as he lay across her pale shoulders. Her face was peaceful and a slight smile on her face as she dreamed, unaware of the demons haunting the Boy's Who Lived dreams.
He continued watching her, his breathing slowing down in pace before returning to normal, his heart calming down from its furiously beating pattern. She was safe, next to him; it was just another nightmare…
But what if the nightmare becomes a reality? Harry found himself thinking. What if I do lose her to Voldemort or his Death Eaters?
He stared at her, his green eyes soft with love and affection for the woman lying beside him. He touched her cheek gently with the back of his two fingers, caressing the softness of her skin.
"I promise I'll never let anything to you," he whispered softly, the tears prickling at his eyes. Who could keep such a promise at a time like this, with the war going on? How could he make such a promise, more or less keep it?
"I promise I'll try my best to keep you safe," he amended, wishing he could do his previous statement. Yet the world wasn't so kind and favorable to him. All he could do at the moment was watch her and hold onto the moment…
"Ginny…" he moaned, his voice full of anguish. He let out a howl of pain, of distress as he sat still in the rocking chair he had made for his deceased wife, the pain tearing at his heart, clawing at it viciously, ruthlessly.
"Oh…my…God…" came a soft gasp from the doorway and Harry saw Hermione standing there, hands covering her mouth as she saw Harry in his state. His grip on the half full bottle slipped and it crashed with the other, the liquid seeping on the floor of the nursery.
"Her-ma-knee," Harry said, his focus on the bushy-haired woman in front of him wavering as he tried to stand, his knees all wobbly. He used the armrest of the chair to support his weight as he stood to his full height. "Wha' ooh doin' 'ere?"
"What am I doing here is making sure you – oh, I knew I should've came early, damn Ron!" Hermione said, the horror and sadness still evident in her eyes as she looked at the wrecked Boy Who Lived. "Harry, you can't go drinking like this – "
"Harry can do whatever he wants!" Harry interrupted, his voice slurring as his eyes rolled a bit. "He saved you all! He keep fighting Voldy for you all, to keep you all safe! Don't he deserve some frickin' happiness?"
"Yes, you do," Hermione said sadly. "But to go drinking like this in your condition – " She lifted her wand and pointed it at Harry, muttering the Sobering Charm. The Boy Who Lived blinked a few times before his gaze turned narrow as he glared.
"I wanted that pain, Hermione," Harry said. He shook his head. "I don't care anymore. You can't tell me what to do." He glared at her, his eyes turning hostile. "Get out of my house. Ginny's sleeping right now; she's tired – "
"Oh, Harry," Hermione moaned. "Harry, Ginny's dead – "
"Shut up!" he snarled. "Just shut up! She's not dead; she and the baby are sleeping and you just want to take them away from me! Well, YOU CAN'T TAKE THEM AWAY FROM ME! I WON'T LET YOU!"
"Harry, stop – "
"LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE US ALONE!"
"She's dead, Harry, please, stop, please be reasonable, listen to me, she's gone, you can't keep – "
"GODDAMIT, HERMIONE, SHE'S ALIVE! SHE'S SLEEPING RIGHT NOW AND WILL BE IN A BAD MOOD IF YOU WAKE HER UP!" Harry was breathing heavily now and suddenly he fell to his knees, face in his hands.
"She's not dead…" he moaned, his voice muffled by his face. He lifted his tearstained face to look at Hermione. "She's not dead," he repeated numbly, his voice full of agony and pain as he tried to reassure himself.
The two stared at one another, both of their eyes filled with sadness. But one set of emerald green eyes was filled with raw pain as he felt the full force of the truth as it hit him like a slap in the face.
"She can't be dead…" he said softly, blinking furiously.
"I'm so sorry, Harry," Hermione said, her voice full of regret. She moved to him and kneeled beside him, her face full of worry and concern for her emotional out of control best friend.
The two friends sat on the floor, letting the grief envelope them both, feeling the absence of the presence most needed, most wanted. Hermione embraced Harry, holding him as he let the sobs rack his body, wishing the gnawing feeling would leave him already.
Wishing the pain would leave.
A loud pop was suddenly heard and both heads snapped up. There was a pounding of footsteps as someone clamored up the stairs hurriedly, making there way around the floor.
"Hermione!" Ron's voice was held, coming out strangled. "Harry! Where are you two!"
"In here!" Hermione called back, frowning at the tone of her husband's tone, the tone of fear. "In the nursery, Ron!"
Ron appeared in the nursery in a matter of seconds and his face was pallid, the freckles standing out. His eyes were wide as he said, "Some Death Eaters were found at a deserted manor by one of our investigation teams. They're doing battle right now and an Auror said he saw a prisoner in the basement – " Here he stopped, swallowing deeply before continuing.
"He says he saw Ginny."
Harry felt as though Ron stabbed him and he stared at him with wide eyes, couldn't believe that Ron would say something like that to him. After all the crap he had felt – all the shit he went through – he just came and said – that lying, son of a – that bastard –
Hermione snarled at her husband, "Ron, shut your mouth!" she shot a worried look at the obvious furious Harry. She snapped her eyes towards her husband, glaring at him hatefully. But he saw the tears in her eyes as she patted Harry's back soothingly.
"Hermione, I'm not lying," Ron said desperately. "The Auror said he swore he saw her before he got attacked by a Death Eater and had to fight. They're guarding the basement like their lives depend on it!"
Ron and Hermione stared at each other, Ron's eyes wide and Hermione's full of concentration as she searched her husband's eyes for the lie, for the cruel joke he was playing on Harry.
There was no amusement, only sincerity. She could see it.
"Is Voldemort there?" Harry asked suddenly, causing both of them to turn to him. His voice was hoarse with emotion as he spoke. He lifted his eyes and Ron stared into dead green eyes. "Is that bastard there, Ron?"
Ron swallowed deeply. "Yes," he whispered. "He's there. Some Aurors are trying to hold their own against him from the last I've heard." He swallowed again. "He's playing with them before he kills them."
The green eyes narrowed dangerously and Harry said, his voice deeper and harsher; "He's mine. I want to be the one who causes him pain, the same way he did it to me. I want to torture him with the same curses that were inflicted on Ginny. And I want to kill him with the same curse he killed Ginny with."
"Harry, she's not – "
"Shut the hell up, Ron," Harry said quietly. "I don't need to hear this crap right now; if this is your idea of cheering me up, you're doing a pretty shitty job at it, all right?"
"Harry," Ron said and Harry's head lifted to stare into Ron's eyes. "I swear to you, this is what I heard and I don't think he would have a reason to lie to us." Ron peered into Harry's eyes, both friends looking into each other's eyes.
"I swear Harry, I'm not lying. He said she's alive and being held prisoner."
"B-But," Harry swallowed, his mouth going dry as his heart began to pick up speed, beating a rougher rhythm against his chest. "But the body – the funeral – we saw her, Ron, we saw her body – "
"We think there might've been a very strong Polyjuice; in death, the potion wears off in a month and the person returns to their original state. So," Ron turned sickly green. "They're digging up the grave and inspecting the b-body."
Harry's hand gripped his wand tightly as he looked up at Ron, his eyes filled with awe and amazement. "She's alive," he said, barely believing his own words as he spoke them. A ghost of a smile fluttered on his face and his eyes shone a moment with something resembling to happiness.
"She's alive…" he repeated, his voice disbelieving yet filled with hope. He stared with wide, astounded eyes at Ron, still not believing those words. Those two simple words that made such an impact on him, an impact that brought bliss.
Harry suddenly leaped up and his friends saw the fire burning in his eyes, saw the way his posture was stiff and rigid. His hands were clenched into fists before he grabbed Ron at the collar and growled, "Where? Where are they?"
"A manor at the outskirts of Scotland," Ron answered. "Seems their next plan was to attack the Hogwarts train so – "
"I don't care," Harry growled, his eyes dark with pure hatred. "They've held my Ginny hostage and probably used the Crucituas Curse on her. I swear I'll kill them; they'll wish they never messed with Harry Potter or his wife.
"They. Will. Pay."
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
Everywhere, battles were being fought as men and women fought against each other, fighting to their last breaths. Both sides took causalities; both sides won a few before moving onto the next battle, barely being able to feel victorious for winning.
Harry Potter stood in the midst of it all, fighting like a mad man as he made his way to the large house. Death Eaters would attack him, determine that he not take another step in the direction but, in his rage, Harry would blast them off their feet, knocking the wind out of all of them. He used his wandless magic and fists, feeling triumph flare inside of him as he caused them pain for whatever they did to his wife.
"AVADA – " A Death Eater cried at him but Harry was quicker in saying the words to the feared Killing Curse. The Death Eater hit the ground limply and did not rise again.
A flicker of a smile lit up the young man's face as he looked at the fallen man. "You should never go against a man who just found out his wife was being held captive by Death Eaters," he chastised.
He continued on his way, making it into the house and leaving the fray behind him. The screen door slammed shut behind him and Harry made his way steadily through the house, as if he owned it and wasn't breaking and entering.
"Hey!" a voice came from the kitchen as a man saw Harry pass by. He and his friends stood from their positions sitting in the chairs and raised their wands at him. The man cackled. "Harry Potter; it will be our pleasure to bring about the defeat of you."
"I think you have something of mine," Harry said mildly, forcing himself to keep the rage out of his voice as he stared in mock politeness at the four men. "And I am quite determined to get her back, you see."
"Get him!" the man shouted and variety of spells were shot at the Boy Who Lived, who simply laughed coldly as the spells bounced off an invisible shield protecting him.
"Good one; want to see a few of mine?" In a few seconds, all four of the cloaked men lay dead on the floor, their expressions frozen in fright and surprise as their lifeless eyes stare at the ceiling above them.
Harry made his way to the door on his right and saw the stairs led down below to darkness. He held his wand in front of him while he made his decent down the stairs, keeping his senses alert and wand at the ready.
His feet finally hit the bottom of the floor and he took a step forward. He muttered, "Lumos," and light came from his wand, casting a light around. He moved it from left to right, at first seeing nothing before he saw a figure lying next to the wall, the moonlight streaming from the high above window onto her young, bruised face, her eyes closed.
Harry felt his heart clench and his knees buckle but he managed to steady himself before making his way hesitantly to the figure, his heart pounding furiously with hope and fear of disappointment.
"Ginny?" he choked out and the figure's head slowly moved from the way and brown eyes met tear filled green ones. The brown eyes had been fierce but had immediately softened when she saw her husband.
"Harry," she said, smiling softly.
He was by her side in an instant, cradling her. He freed her from the chains binding her to the wall and held her in his arms, kissing her hair and burying his face into her hair as he stared lovingly into the brown eyes of Ginevra Potter.
She was bruised, like the fake Ginny had been, and looked to be in pain but her eyes were alit with joy and happiness as she stared into Harry's eyes. Her red hair was dirty and rough, clinging to her face yet Harry never saw anyone as beautiful as he saw her to be.
"You're alive," he murmured in her hair, stroking her tremblingly. "Oh, Merlin, I-I thought he killed you, Gin, I thought he murdered you – I saw the body, I saw them do it – saw your face – "
"Shush," Ginny said soothingly, comforting him. She smiled at him, her eyes warm with affection and love she held for him. She reached out a thin hand to touch his cheek gently, her fingers brushing against the skin.
"I knew you would come for me," she whispered, her own eyes filling with tears as she continued watching him. "I knew you wouldn't leave me here alone."
"It's my fault, Ginny. I-I left you at the safe house – shit, if you can even call if that – I should've known something would go wrong – I should've been there – dammit – dammit – " The guilt poured out of him and he cried. "It's all my fault."
"No, it's not," Ginny said gently but firmly. It seemed it pained her to speak but she continued speaking. "It's not your fault, Harry, for not predicating what would happen." A smile curved on her bloodied lips as she continued, "You're not Professor Trelawney."
Harry felt a chuckle escape him; the sound felt so foreign on his lips, coming from him who never though he would feel happiness again. But here he was, staring at his thought to be dead wife and the joy was bursting in his heart.
"Thank Merlin for that," Harry said quietly, his eyes studying her face.
Ginny chuckled before coughing violently. When she stopped, her smile was gone and sadness was in her eyes as she gazed at Harry. Her eyes drifted to her stomach and her eyes hardened. Harry looked down and his throat clenched to see it wasn't round and his eyes traveled below her…where dry blood was stained on the floor…
"They killed my baby," she said croakily. "When – When they were performing the Crucituas curse," Harry held her tighter when he heard the curse they used on her, "the baby just – just couldn't take it. The blood came and they laughed, Harry, they laughed." She choked out a sob. "They told me it was a boy, to torment me. Said it was a boy."
Harry rocked her tenderly, in the manner the rocking chair rocked. She cried and sobbed over the loss of her baby. He caught the words, "Sirius…I was going to name him Sirius…" as he continued to hold her.
When she spoke again, her voice was softer yet full of sorrow as she gazed into his eyes. "And I don't think I'm going to make it either," she said, her voice breaking as she stared at him.
Harry clutched her. "No," he whispered. "I lost you once, Ginny, I'm not about to do it again." He held her even tighter, as if he could keep the life in her if he held her tight enough. He clutched her, pleading that for once in his life, let him have something, let him keep the person he loved the most.
I only had a few moments of reunion with her! His brain screamed as he held her, both of them silent. She can't leave now, not after the month of captivity and all the pain I had to go through – she can't leave me –
"Harry, I love you," she whispered, reaching out a trembling hand, which he immediately grabbed. Her hand was cold while his hand was warm; he tried to get the warmth from his hand into hers. "I love you so much."
"I love you too, Ginny," Harry said in a strangled voice as he realized he was going to lose her – and very soon, it seemed as her voice got more distant. "I love you too."
"Give Voldemort the good ole one-two for me, 'kay?" she asked softly, her eyelids sliding closed but opening every now and then as she peered into her husband's eyes.
Harry clutched her hand tighter. "Promise."
She smiled and her eyes began closing. "Good."
"Wait for me," Harry suddenly whispered and her eyes whipped open to stare at him. He repeated, more firmly, "Wait for me, Ginny. Promise me that you'll wait for me."
"I'll always wait for you, Harry," she told him faintly, a smile in her voice. "Always." He leaned forward to kiss her tenderly on her lips and she returned the kiss weakly yet the love was evident. She lifted her hand slowly, to touch his cheek. She then ran her hand through his hair one last time before her hand fell limply to her side, her eyes closing forever.
The tears welled in his eyes again but determination came with them. He leaned down and kissed Ginny on the forehead, on a part that wasn't bruised. He watched her still face and whispered hoarsely,
"See you soon."
Harry Potter then stood, wand in hand, and made his way out of the house to face Voldemort for the very last time. For everyone who had suffered. For everyone who lived in fear because of him. For everyone who died because of him.
For his wife.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
He saw a white light as he stared ahead, blinking slowly. A figure, silhouetted by the light, held out a hand towards him, a gentle smile on her face. Her red hair was set softly on her shoulders, shining as it used to always. There was no trace of the pain she had went through and all he saw was perfection and beauty.
He raised his own hand and took the other hand into his own, intertwining the fingers together as he smiled lovingly at the redheaded woman beside him, his green eyes soft with warmth, before they continued forward.
Together.
∞∞∞∞∞∞∞∞
A/N: See, I put them together at the end, I'm not completely heartless. :dodges hurling object: Err...Well, if you have any questions, leave your email address and I'll answer you as soon as I can.
Oh and here's an answer to a question I think I might be getting:
Who won? Voldemort or Harry? Harry dies...doesn't he? ...Hmm, how to answer this...well...what'd you think what happens? LOL. :winks:
PLEASE review, I would really appreciate it as this is my first angsty one-shot and second Harry/Ginny one-shot.