Never
I was hallucinating. That had to be it. My vision and my hearing were just messed up because I had been in a battle. There was no way this was happening. It was impossible.
Harry.
Was.
Not.
Dead.
My vision told me he lay limp in Hagrid's enormous arms. My hearing told me Death Eaters were proclaiming, "The Boy Who Lived is dead!" But my mind told me it couldn't be right. He wouldn't have left me. He would never. He…he loved me too much. Right?
Suddenly, I was aware of the silent tears that trekked down my cheeks and on the bridge of my nose. I was crying! I hadn't cried since a bet I had made with Fred and George when I was six! Ginny Weasley did NOT cry.
Okay, maybe I did. No matter how many times I wiped away the offending salt water from my swollen eyes, it refused to leave. What would Harry have said if he saw me right now? He would say, "Ginny! Don't cry! It's all going to be ok," and then would've gathered me in his warm arms and hugged away the sorrow.
But he would never again do that. Never again would I laugh at one his jokes. Never again would I tell him all about the irritating teachers. Never again would I complain to him about my homework. Never again would he offer to help me with it. Never again would we go for a midnight broom ride on the Quidditch Pitch.
Never again.
I felt a new wave of sorrow come over me. It was unbearable, this one. Sharp, fiery pain shot through me. I seemed to shut down. I could no longer comprehend anything. I was stuck in my mind, swimming through emotions and thoughts that tangled together and formed a net. And I was trapped in it.
"Remember when…"
"How will you go on?"
"He didn't choose this."
"Why did he do it?"
"He left you!"
"…he loved you."
I was startled out of my trance by the last thought. He had never told me that he loved me.
Never. Such a strong five-letter word. I had never told him exactly how I felt about him. Never told him I liked him since I was ten years old. Never told him he was an incredible person. Never told him how he always made me laugh. Never told him how he always made me feel better. Never told him I liked his messy hair and the way his glasses were always slightly askew. Never told him that he made my heart race impossibly fast. Never told him that I would've died for him. He had died for me- for us, both the Muggle and Wizarding World- though.
But most of all, I had never told him I loved him.
And now I never would.