**Disclaimer: All characters, plots, locations, etc. belong to J.K. Rowling. No copyright infringement is intended with the posting of this story.**
The darkness was easy. Comfortable was a good word for it. It was empty and silent, a welcome change from the din of the Gryffindor Common Room. The floor felt slightly sticky, like someone had slipped juice on it long ago, and the sickly sweet smell of human sweat hung dankly in the air.
I had thought I was cold. I remembered being cold, wet even, but I could no longer feel it. There had been voices too, two voices. One was familiar, the voice of someone loved, but I could not place who it was anymore. The other was new. I had never heard that voice before, but its words were so familiar that I could have sworn I had heard them every day for months.
My ears registered a sudden cry of pain, followed by the metallic scent of blood. But before I could fully comprehend them, they had both disappeared. In fact, all smell was gone, replaced by a delicious absence.
It was easy to stay here. I could feel myself slipping away, but every moment I slipped I felt a little better. I'd spent the whole year feeling alone because… why? Why had I been alone? What had happened this year?
All I could recall was a little black book. Nothing else. The book held feelings of terror, but why would it? It was only a book. Books were friends, I reminded myself. They taught me important things and gave me excuses to talk to my brother and occasionally, to get a glimpse of Harry.
Harry. I didn't remember much from the year except him. Actually, I didn't remember him during the year either. I remembered everything from last summer, however.
The first time I met him had been bad enough. I'd cried like a baby because all my brothers were going to Hogwarts and I wasn't. My embarrassment had not registered until later, when the Hogwarts Express was long gone and I was alone back at the Burrow. Crying in front of Harry Potter was not acceptable. He'd seen so much hardship in his life; it was incredible he was emotionally stable.
The second time had been no better. A month before I was set to go to Hogwarts, to see Harry all the time, I'd screeched into the kitchen, madly looking for some lost object or another, which Mum informed me was on the house pet, and I find myself looking into a pair of bright green eyes.
Only someone who had met Harry would understand the novelty of his eyes. It's not just that they are beautiful, although they certainly are. His eyes have something in them. Kindness shines through, of course. There is a slight sparkle that represents his sense of humor. A ring of dark green around the middle shows his past, and little freckles of brown on the edges make him seem brave and strong, but also show his temper. But the true glory is in the innocence. All it takes is one look into those eyes to know that he doesn't have a clue how special he is. The way his eyes smile at people he likes or glare at those he despises show that he considers himself to be just like everyone else, even though he so clearly isn't.
I ran from those eyes. I spent a month hiding from them. They frightened me. The wisdom in Harry's eyes gave me the idea that he could see everything, and that scared me. I didn't want him to see everything. I didn't want him to see how I felt about him because if he knew, so would all of my brothers. But if Harry knew, then he would know that I just couldn't stay away from him, and in my eleven year old mind, that was not the type of thing you told a guy.
During the year, something different had bothered me about his eyes. I'd had a secret, something that I had not wished Harry, or anyone, to know, but I couldn't remember it anymore. It must not have been important.
I tried to return to the present, but the voices were gone. There wasn't even a sound of breathing. Wiggling on the ground, I realized I could not feel a ground beneath me. There was nothing.
I was completely alone.
Just me, Ginny, with nothing. There were no voices, no smells, nothing to see, nothing to feel. But the emptiness was no longer comfortable. I had the sinking feeling that something important was happening. Time crawled, and it felt like death was spreading slowly through my veins. Pump pump pump. For the first time, I managed to wonder what was going on.
I wished there was something there with me. Anything, even the floor, would have done, but what I craved the most was human touch. Warmth would have been reassuring, not that I was cold. I was just… nothing. I, and everything around me, was the absence of being.
Just as I was beginning to feel fear creep up into my stomach, a sudden pain ripped through me. It went directly through my heart, which began to beat ferociously. My pulse quickened dramatically, and the back of my mind registered that this was normal, that what had happened before had been bad.
Another round of pain gripped me. Going straight through my brain, it brought back all the memories I had forgotten. The year came back to me. Tom Riddle and the diary. Having a secret I didn't want anyone to know, especially not Harry and Ron. My classes returned, and the little bit of magic I had actually retained scattered over my head. But one thing hit the inside of my head like a racing broomstick.
The attacks on the muggleborns. Me.
My body slammed against a hard, unforgiving ground. Wetness crept over me, and I registered coldness. A shiver went down my spine. The scents of water, dirt, sweat, blood, and worst, death, accosted my nose. My mouth was dry and hollow, tasting faintly of blood.
Curiosity gripped me. What had happened? I felt like I had been reborn, only I had never died. I could hear my heartbeat strong in my chest, and for some reason it frightened me. What would I see when I opened my eyes? Would the voices be there? Would they be angry?
More importantly, would I be hurt? There would be punishment for what I did, what Tom forced me to do. That was certain. I would be expelled, but that seemed like a lesser punishment at the moment, because I had a feeling death was waiting all around me.
I clenched my sweaty palms and squeezed my features. My back arched involuntarily off of the floor and a shiver went through my entire body. I almost wanted to go back to the safety of the darkness.
The darkness was easy; living was hard. But if there is no hardship then there is never anything good. I made up my mind.
Licking dry lips, I opened my eyes and left the darkness.
The first thing I saw was a giant snake.
I opened my mouth to scream. Surely one of the voices would save me, they had both been male after all, and one of them must have had a wand. Howver a moment later, just as my shriek was building in my throat, I realized that the snake was dead. Its neck was twisted disgustingly; its head flopped upside down in the water. Dark red spread all over the upper half of its huge mangled body.
Relief washed through me and I felt myself relax. I turned my head to look on the other side of the weird chamber I was in.
The next thing I saw was Harry.
I probably should have been terrified that he knew my secret; there was no way he was mistaking this. However, the first thing my eyes caught was his arm.
He held it carefully against his body, palm up, hiding it, but I could still make out the gaping wound. His face was full of anguish and I wished with all my heart that there were something I could do to take away his pain. He felt the pain because of me, and he didn't deserve it. It should have been mine.
"Harry…" my tongue swelled in my mouth. "You're hurt."
His features clenched, hiding his eyes from me. "Don't worry about it," he spoke tightly. "You need to get yourself out. Follow the Chamber, you'll find Ron. I'll be fine."
Yeah, right. He looked like he was about to go knocking on death's door. Panic gripped me and I held back tears. Harry needed help, and I was the only one there to help him.
"Let me see," I begged. Before he could protest, I grabbed his arm and pulled it away from his body. Tingles went through my entire being at the feel of contact with him. He was so warm, so very alive. I wished I could wrap myself up in his arms and just stay there forever, but I couldn't shake the feeling that if I did that, I would not be aware of forever for much longer.
The cut looked even worse once it was revealed. In fact, it was a bit of an insult to call it a cut. A cut is what you get when you're trying to cut potatoes. You get a cut when you tease the cat. Harry had a giant puncture wound.
A caw came from the air, and I looked up just in time to see a brilliant red bird circling over our heads. It landed in between us, next to Harry's extended arm.
"Fawkes," Harry said, his voice full of emotion. "You were brilliant. I just wasn't quick enough." He bowed his head, almost hiding the pain on his face from me. The bird, Fawkes, he'd called it, leaned over his arm and did something truly shocking.
It began to cry.
Tears leaked from Fawkes' eyes onto Harry's arm, and I watched as the blood drew away. It soaked back into Harry's arm; skin stretching over his muscles and a tiny corner of white bone.
He flexed his fingers, which I realized I was still holding in my hand. I released him, feeling strangely empty when his skin was no longer in contact with mine.
Harry gave a little laugh. "Of course. Phoenix tears have healing powers." He smiled and looked at the bird. "Thanks Fawkes."
That did me in. He was thanking the bird. Who thinks to thank a bird? Who is so in touch with everything and so unwilling to take any credit for them that that they thank a phoenix before they think about what they've done?
I started crying. I had been through so much in the past twenty-four hours that I didn't think I could take anymore.
Sudden warmth spread across my back and shoulder and a shiver went through me as Harry wrapped his arms around me.
"It's okay, Ginny," he said, moving his hand in a circle on my back. "It's over." I could hear a smile in his voice. "It's just a memory."
That was the moment I knew.
I've often told people that it was later. Most people think it was when he kissed me in front of the whole Common Room, or when he gave us the Felix Felicis even though he was the one going off with Dumbledore. Others think that it was when he told me that he had to leave me behind, or when he was spinning around He Who Must Not Be Named in the Great Hall during the battle. My mum would swear she knew from the moment she met him, but that's such a lie.
I knew right then. With his arms wrapped around me and my head on his shoulder, it hit me. I was going to like him for a very long time. Someday, I was going to love him. Perhaps years later, I was going to marry him.
Because if, even dripping with sweat and blood and dirt, Harry could make me feel like that, that wasn't going away. Even though I'd been moments from death, he made me feel like I belonged so wholly. His words comforted me in a way none ever had before. For the first time in my life, after growing up as the only daughter, living in fear at Hogwarts all year, I didn't feel alone.
People say that someone is their hero when they rescue them, as if they worship that person. But there's another way that it works. Every hero needs someone to take care of him or her, to love him or her, to be his or hers. And in turn, that hero is theirs. Not in the sense that they have save them, even though they have, but in the sense that the hero belongs to that person in every way.
Ever since that night when I was eleven years old, I've known. And throughout every thing, I've never forgotten.
Harry Potter is my hero.
AN: And there we have it. I hope you enjoyed it, and I'm just going to take up a few more moments of your time.
1) This oneshot is part of a larger thing! It is my October 15th update for Project PULL, a writing challenge started by yours truly. For details and a full list of participants, visit my profile. For a full compilation of all PULL updates, visit the Project PULL community.
2) Okay, so the dialogue wasn't perfect. It was based mostly off of what was said in the movie, and the hug was my own touch. If it really bothers you, feel free to let me know.
3) Thank you so much to xXIceShadowXx for betaing this, even though I didn't really give you much a choice. It's nice to know that I can just shove things in your face and say, "BETA THIS," and you actually do it. :)
4) Remember what a review is? It's a chance for you to tell the author what you truly thought of their piece. Did you love it? Review and tell them why. Did you hate it? Review and tell them why. Do you wish they would stop writing and go die in a hole? Review and tell them why. Do you wish they'd done something differently? Review and them why. Review and tell my why, people.
Thanks for reading!
-Bookaholic711