Don't Let Me Go, a harry potter fanfic

DISCLAIMER: HA! You think I own Harry Potter? Nope. Sorry to disappoint, rights still go to J.K.R. (The notion that I own the song Never Say Never is equally laughable. Rights for that go to The Fray.)

A/N: I've been thinking about writing a Song Fiction with this song, and found that this scenario would be prefect, even if nothing like it happened in the books. :D Excuse my poetic license. Everything is Cannon up until the time when Harry is getting picked up from the Dursleys' in HBP. Rather angst-y, but fluffy at the same time. I sincerely apologize for posting this, I know it could do with some work, so any constructive criticism is more than welcome. Please review and tell me I didn't neglect my other fics for nothing!

A/N2: Oh, and Lily, this DOES have another "misty/foggy window". ;)

Don't Let Me Go

Some things we don't talk about

Rather do without

Just hold the smile

Harry Potter was going through the motions, if you could call it that.

He'd plastered a brave smile on his face for the Weasleys and the other Order members, but the second he drove away in the back seat of the Dursley's car, the mask had dropped, and he'd fallen into a listless depression.

He had barely said a single word all summer to them, The only reason he left his room was to use the loo. The rest of the time, he lay on his bed, not eating, occasionally succumbing to a fitful sleep filled with nightmares forcing him to relive his worst memories. Then, he'd wake up, face covered in a sheen of sweat and tears, and repeat the whole thing over again.

Falling in and out of love

Ashamed and proud of

Together all the while

Hedwig flew in and out of the open window as she pleased, bringing back small bundles of letters quite often, seeming to want to make sure Harry wasn't lonely.

The ones from Ron, Hermione, Hagrid, and once in a long while Remus were nice, but they scooted around the subject of Harry's godfather, obviously wanting him to talk about it with them, but not knowing how to ask him to do so tactfully.

Cho even tried writing a couple of times, but Harry skimmed the letters and ignored them,

"I know how you feel…" Like hell you do. "I'm really sorry, Marietta was awful…" Yet you still hang around with her. She betrayed me. She betrayed you! "I still love you…" You never gave a damn.

You can never say never

While we don't know when

Time and time again

Younger now

Than we were

Before

There was one person, however, who's letters Harry looked forward to. Once or twice a week, Ginny Weasley would write to him. Her warm strains of comfort and cheery anecdotes brought small, wan smiles to his lips even if they didn't quite reach his eyes.

While his other letters were scattered on top of all the other rubbish that had cluttered his trunk for years, Ginny's were piled in the drawer of his bedside table to be read over and over again, until they lay quite flat, though they'd come to him rolled tightly in Hedwig's, Erroll's, or Pigwidgeon's claws.

Every time he saw Ginny's hasty scrawl, he felt as though the weight of the world had briefly been lifted from his shoulders (though it still hovered just above him, ready to crash down at any moment), and for once, he felt his age.

Don't let me go

A steady drizzle of rain made a lazy trail through the mist clouding Harry's window pane.

Harry lay on his back, his head tilted on the pillows of his bed, gazing at the dreary little droplets of water indifferently, his mouth parched and dry, lips cracked, and eyes a red to rival Lord Voldemort's, the green irises dull in luster.

As Harry's mind replayed scenes from Ministry as though they were happening in front of him, or on film, he choked back bile as the tears flooded his eyes again.

He rolled over, back to the window, and curled into a fetal position as silent sobs wracked his body.

The cat flap on his door creaked open and his aunt's bony hand shoved a tray of cold soup and stale bread through it. It clattered to the floor, some of the repulsive-looking liquid splashing over the sides of the bowl to pool on the plastic tray. Harry automatically acknowledged that it must be dinner time, though he didn't move or give any sign that he'd noticed the gesture at all. Instead, he squeezed his eyes shut, salty tears leaking out of their corners and gathering on his lashes.

Distantly, through a haze of grief, he heard the doorbell ring and Vernon's heavy footfalls seemed to shake the entire house.

Harry heard muffled tones, vaguely familiar, but he could not quite bring himself to care who was speaking. Then, a bellow of anger from his uncle that didn't faze him one bit: "BOY!"

There was no doubt in Harry's mind as to whom Vernon was addressing, but Harry's body refused to obey the robotic thoughts that told him he should get up.

Instead, he gave himself over entirely to the waves of tears that slammed into him, one after the other, still completely silent; fifteen years had taught him that any noise from him was unacceptable and not worth hearing, especially those of anger or grief.

"ABSOLUTELY NOT!" Vernon roared, sounding quite hysterical. This proclamation was followed by more quiet speech from the person or people who were evidently there for Harry.

Then - "If you don't let us, then we'll force you to!"

For some reason, the voice prodded him gently yet insistently, asking him to accept it's owner, but his mind was still incapable - or perhaps unwilling - to process who was speaking.

Light footsteps dashed up the stair a moment later, and slowed in front of his door.

"Yeah, that's it - whoops!"

A thump!, as though someone had tripped on the stairs.

This voice was different from the other he'd heard clearly, but was also quite familiar, and, he realized, both voices were feminine.

"Careful," said the first girl. There was a pause, then, "Are you…are you sure this is it?"

The voice was now incredulous and angry.

"Positive," the other replied.

"But," the first person continued, "all these locks! Surely, I mean, I knew they were horrible, but this is abuse!"

She sighed when her companion didn't answer, and a few heavy clatters sounded, someone unlocking the bolts on his door.

"Perhaps you should talk to him first."

"Okay," the first girl confirmed with some trepidation.

The second person could be heard stumping away, seeming to occasionally stumble, a trail of sheepish "oops!"-es following in her wake.

Then, a nock.

Harry tried to force his rusty voice to respond, but was only able to managed a quiet grunt that he was sure remained unheard.

"Harry?"

The door opened slowly and there stood Ginny, red hair damp from the rain, still managing to look like a goddess in a simple Holyhead Harpies t-shirt and jeans.

Harry remained silent, his tear-streaked face tucked in the crook of his arm.

"Oh, Harry…."

Ginny's voice was pained now, as though seeing the boy in his current state hurt her deeply.

Harry didn't hear her footsteps, but suddenly she was at his bed, sitting down, pulling his head into her lap and stroking her fingers through his tangle of ebony hair.

And Harry found himself crying his heart out into his best friend's sister's lap, somehow managing to vaguely process as he did so that she was now much, much more to him.

As long as she just held him for a while, he though maybe he'd be okay.

Picture you're the queen of everything

As far as the eye can see

Under your command

Harry's shaky breath filled the room sounding disturbingly like a Dementor's.

"Harry…Harry…Harry…."

He realized numbly that Ginny was whispering his name over and over again, whether trying to reassure herself or him, he didn't know.

When he'd cried himself out, he simply went limp in Ginny's arms.

She let him lay there for a moment, regaining control and steadying himself, continuing to play with the hair at the nape of his neck.

For a minute, all was still.

Finally, though, Ginny spoke.

"Sit up."

Her voice was gentle yet commanding, and Harry was glad to let her take control.

He pushed himself up, first on his elbows, then on his palms, then he sagged against the headboard, unable to will himself to do anything more.

"Harry, you'll have to work with me here," Ginny murmured, reaching out a hand to brush the last traces of tears from his pasty-complexioned face.

Ginny glanced around the room, taking in her surroundings.

Hedwig's cage was open on the desk, Daily Prophets clustered under it, the beautiful Snowy Owl hooting dolefully on top of it. Her amber eyes surveyed Ginny imperiously before seeming to nod her approval, then she fluttered over, nipped Harry affectionately, and took off with a soft whoosh of cool air out the partially-open window.

Harry's trunk was wide open, and Ginny couldn't suppress a small smirk (though her chocolate eyes were still sad) at the mess within.

The tray of Harry's "dinner" had been pushed aside when Ginny had opened the door, and the bowl of soup had capsized, splattering the murky brown stuff all over Petunia's precious wood floors.

Ginny snorted derisively. "This'll never do."

She stood to leave, and when Harry began to protest weakly, she shushed him with a finger to his mouth.

"Relax. I'm just going to get you some water."

Ginny was back in moments with a tall glass of ice-cold water, something Harry hadn't had since Hogwarts.

She handed Harry the water, encasing his other hand in hers.

When he started to gulp the water, Ginny pried the cup from his fingers, saying "Don't, Harry. Go slow or you'll be sick."

When he was done, he slumped back again, still emotionally wrenched, but much better physically. He even felt the beginning pangs of hunger.

Ginny now took the time to make note of his appearance, and "tsked" again, shaking her head in a rather Madame Pomfrey-ish manner.

"Well, this won't do, will it?" she murmured again.

Harry didn't protest when she began pulling the drawers of his wardrobe open, gathering fresh jeans, boxers, and a t-shirt.

Ginny turned back to him, plopped the clothes on the end of his bed, and said, "Come on, Harry. Get up."

At a stern look from her, Harry pushed himself up into a standing position, his knees cracking painfully, legs stiff.

She took his hands in hers and surveyed him critically, but quite fondly, and sighed again.

Brown eyes met green, chocolate and emerald, and for a moment, they held. Harry found himself cradled in her gaze, and reluctant to let the moment of perfect, electric understanding go as Ginny broke eye contact with him, an almost pained, regretful expression etched in her features.

"Go take a shower, Harry," she commanded simply.

Harry nodded, gathering the clothes in his arms and trudging to the bathroom.

Once inside with the door locked, he stripped off his sweaty shirt and stepped out of his jeans, then stumbled into the shower, almost collapsing when the hot water pounded onto him. He felt all his muscles clench painfully, then relax blissfully in almost the same motion.

Harry had no idea how long he'd been in the shower, only getting out when he noticed the warmth of the water beginning to be edged with cold.

I will be your guardian

When all is crumbling

Steady your hand

It was awfully good, Harry reflected absently as he stepped into the hallway, to be wearing fresh clothes.

He re-entered his room to find Ginny sitting on his freshly-made bed, stroking Hedwig's feathers. Harry's beloved owl was settled on her shoulder contentedly, giving a muffled coo every now and then.

The mangled mouse for which the bird had obviously been expecting praise was still precariously balanced on the windowsill.

"Perhaps we should just leave it there…it'd give my Aunt a fright," Harry suggested, gesturing towards the poor creature with a brave attempt at a grin.

Ginny's head shot up, and she gave a weak giggle.

"You reckon?" she murmured, barely audible, and got to her feet.

Hedwig took flight, startled by the sudden movement, and was sure to cuff Ginny's head a bit indignantly.

"Yeah," Harry said, clearing his throat nervously when he realized his voice was hoarse. "Yeah, I do."

Ginny stood right in front of him now, eyes never wavering from his face. She reached up instinctively to flatten his wet, rumpled hair, then seemed to notice what she was doing and stopped mid-motion, dropping her hand regretfully.

Her face tinged with a dim memory of the infamous blush that used to adorn her cheeks at the slightest embarrassment.

I made Ginny Weasley blush, Harry thought with an odd form of ferocious satisfaction. Something I haven't done in almost two years!

The beautiful girl in front of him cleared her throat hurriedly, then asked, "Are you ready to go?"

This time, it was Harry who turned a shade reminiscent of the Weasley hair.

"Erm…no. I'm not packed."

Ginny smiled. "Yes, you are. Lupin came to check on us while you were in the shower. Simple packing charm made things a lot easier," she added with an impish grin.

Downstairs, Remus and Tonks sat in a somewhat tense silence with not only the Dursleys, but each other.

"Ah, Harry!" Remus exclaimed rather loudly, clearly glad for the distraction. He stood and strode over to the boy, placing his hands on Harry's shoulders and scrutinizing him carefully. Finally, Remus enveloped him in a fatherly hug which Harry returned gratefully, but rather awkwardly.

"How're you holding up, Son?" he asked as he pulled away.

"Better, now," Harry said quietly after some consideration and half a glance at the girl by his side.

"Whotcher, Harry" Tonks chirped predictably, but something in her smile was forced, and he noticed that her customary shade of bubblegum pink hair was rather more dull than usual. He also noticed the worried glance that Ginny shot at her and the covertly guilty one Remus bestowed upon the pretty little Metamorphmagus.

"Right, well, I'll get your trunk, then we'll be off," said Lupin, jumping at the chance to get out of the room.

As Remus hurried upstairs, Ginny seated herself on the couch next to Tonks, pulling Harry down next to her.

A moment of silence that stifled the air around them into an uncomfortable thickness ensued, then Ginny said, "Well Harry, are you going to make introductions? Your…er…family -" she spat the word disdainfully - "didn't seem to find it necessary."

Harry took a moment to marvel at both her bold comment and the shade of puce it had seemed to turn his uncle before replying, "Sorry 'bout that, Gin. They don't have the best of manners," in what he hoped was a light, conversational tone of voice.

Harry paused again to enjoy the effect of this comment on his "family". Vernon turned a darker purple, while Petunia on the other hand seemed to turn a shade paler. Dudley just shrank back, determined to become invisible, and failing the feat miserably, but Harry noticed the way he looked at Ginny - with the sort of hungry longing he might survey a particularly large hamburger with - and he didn't like it one bit. He glowered at his cousin threateningly, and the whale-like boy cowered, whimpering piteously.

Harry continued, "These are Vernon, Petunia, and Dudley Dursley." He then turned to the Dursleys, smiling in a rather smug manner. "These are my friends Ginny Weasley (one of my best friends, known for her Bat Bogie Hex) and Nymphadora Tonks -"

"Harry -"

"- who prefers to be called Tonks. She's a Metamorphmagus, she can change her appearance at will. And the man who just went upstairs is Remus Lupin, one of my father's best friends. He," Harry continued viciously, "is a werewolf. Don't worry, though, quite harmless."

Harry almost achieved a true smile at the looks on his relatives faces. Ginny burst into silent snickers, her hand pressed to her mouth in suppressed mirth.

"Can't exactly say I'm pleased to meet you," she remarked once she'd calmed down, eyeing the Dursleys coldly.

Vernon seemed to have recovered the power of speech.

"Well, you little - you have the gall to - I WILL NOT TOLERATE BEING SPOKEN TO LIKE THAT IN MY OWN HOME!" And with that, the atrocious man did something even Harry never would have imagined he would do.

He strode over to Ginny, and slapped the unabashed girl as hard as he could across her face. The petite redhead didn't flinch, though tears pooled in her eyes, and she was clearly smarting.

Infuriated that Ginny did not recoil, Vernon lashed out at her again, but Harry was quicker: He whipped out his wand and directed it between his uncle's tiny eyes.

The porky man froze, going cross-eyed to keep the thin strip of wood he was being threatened with in sight.

"Don't. Touch. Her," Harry snarled, a sudden intense protectiveness rising in his chest.

No harm would come to her, ever again.

He would make sure of that.

Their world was crumbling at the seams, but he'd never allow anything even vaguely reminiscent of the Chamber of Secrets to befall her: No insult, no physical or emotional pain….And the red mark his uncle had left on her freckled cheek made him angry beyond belief.

Vernon made a strange choking whimper, and cowered from his nephew.

"Get that thing away from me, you freak!"

Harry held steady, though the childhood "nickname" made him bite his lip.

"Never touch her, you understand?" Harry yelled, temper rising. Vernon backed down, and Harry stowed his wand away again. He relaxed, but could still feel his rage bubbling just below the surface.

Ginny gazed at him, wide-eyed, stunned, but grateful.

"Thank you."

The two words were whispered so softly he hardly heard them at all.

You can never say never

While we don't know when

Time and time again

Younger now

Than we were

Before

Don't let me go

Remus came down the stairs, the trunk having been sent ahead to the Burrow, but Harry didn't look at him. He was still glaring at Vernon.

"I heard…raised…voices," Remus trailed off, taking in the expressions on Harry's and Vernon's faces, and the red mark in the distinct shape of a hand on Ginny's.

"What in the bloody hell happened?" he exclaimed.

Harry fell back into brooding silence (vaguely shocked that Remus had swore), and Ginny explained briefly, Tonks remaining mysteriously quiet and subdued from the point when Lupin had entered the room on.

Lupin nodded curtly, then said, "We'll be going. And Mr. Dursley…you'd do best not to lose your temper like that again."

The last bit was spoken in a kind of deadly calm that was more intimidating than the loudest shout.

Vernon didn't reply verbally, but nodded almost imperceptivity, his mouth pressed in a thin line. It seemed almost too much for his pride to be reprimanded for something like what he'd just done by another full grown man - a scruffy-looking wizard, no less - in his own home.

Harry stood stiffly, automatically, as Tonks and Ginny did the same.

We're pulling apart and coming together again and again

We're growing apart but we pull it together, pull it together, together again

The group stepped out into the dreary night, Remus in front, then Harry and Ginny, Tonks bringing up the rear.

As Tonks held out her arm to Ginny, and Remus to Harry for Side-Along Apparation, Harry caught Ginny's eye.

For the first time since Sirius' death, he really smiled.

Everything Voldemort tried to do was aimed to tear apart the unity of the "Light Side". And in that sense, every one of those attempts failed. Even if they were torn at one point, they pulled it together.

Over, and over, and over again.

We're in this together.

Don't let me go

A/N: Well, this took me about a month to write! :D I expect many great reviews for that. ;) Hope you enjoyed!

~PhoenixFlameGinny67