So tell me you love me
- The Weeknd, Wicked Games
Breathe life
She stands, haltingly close to him, as her brother's name is read out. Words of condolence are followed, by the speaker – she hasn't looked up to see who it is – and by people she doesn't even know. His hand finds hers, and she grasps on tightly.
Her heart is weak inside her chest. The speaker moves on, and another name is read out. It is another blow to her chest, knocking the air out of her lungs. People she knew have died, no longer breathing, talking or living. She's never understood the rules of death more blurrily than now.
Who decides who gets to die and who gets to live by just a hair? It's not fair, she thinks, and she holds his hand ever tighter.
When it's over, when she has to space to move and breathe, she turns around to him. "Harry," she starts, and it's all in his name. She chokes a little, and her vision becomes uncertain through thick tears.
He hugs her, and she sobs into his chest. His arms are strong around her, his own wet cheek in her hair. She hates this whole situation – the past three days have been worse than hell – but him holding her stops time.
"It's going to be okay," he says; and he speaks with certainty. "You're safe-"
She interrupts him. "But they aren't, Harry. They're dead. They don't even know if their deaths were worth it." Ginny sobs again, pulling away and wiping her face on the sleeve of her robe.
Harry looks at her almost sternly. "Don't say that. They know, Gin. Of course they know. And they're safe now, you know this." He speaks now with hesitancy. Maybe he's not sure about anything anymore. He just knows that it's over and life will continue and everyone just needs to learn this. But maybe he's torn – in completely different directions – just like Ginny is.
They stand, almost awkwardly for a long time. Between these two, nothing is resolved and almost everything is different. Feelings might not matter now, though they've stayed unchangingly there, within his chest and her chest, and his heart and her heart.
He looks at her, seeing Ginny Weasley properly. She looks so sad, so crumpled up, like a discarded piece of parchment.
He says what he thinks she should hear, because he's sure, with everything going on, no one has said it yet. "I'm so, so proud of you. You know, Fred is too."
She smiles, just a little bit, through her tears. He realises that he's only seen her cry a few times before. "I think you already know I'm proud of you, Harry."
Harry reaches out an unsteady hand, and he grips hers, seeking the comfort he knows she'll always give.
Gaah. This is all over the place, I'm afraid. I MIGHT when I come back from holi-holiday next week do a Romoine one, but idk. Review?