The deep red cloth. Swaying to easily in to breeze drifting from one of the open windows. Unaffected by yesterday's events. How would it be, it was just a bed hanging. One of the dozens in Gryffindor tower. One of the six in the boy's dormitory. And the one that surrounded a very troubled young man. He was sprawled across his bed, eyes clothes tight, glasses missing in the unknown. And the simple stroke down his brow. The lighting bolt scar that meant so much more than it looked. Harry Potter was untroubled in his sleep, for what seemed to be the first time. I stood soundlessly by his bed, staring at the bed curtains. I couldn't bring myself to look at him, afraid to see him disappear. To be dead again. The look on Voldemort's face, the lust in his eyes that the boy I loved was dead. But could I call him that? The boy I loved, not love, but loved. Because standing there, I was killing myself. He had split it with me, and I has cried for the first time in a while. I had felt so vulnerable then, as I do now. Whenever I look at him, I know. Killing him, is killing me. My train of thought was interrupted by a sharp intake. He breathed in quickly. I needed to stay hidden, so I grabbed the cloth at the end of his bed, jumped to the floor, and covered myself. His movement subsided, and I made to remove the blanket, until I realized I was gone. Invisible. His invisibility cloak, the one Hermione had mentioned. I stroked the silky fabric, the got up, and moved to the arm chair near Harry's bed, and stayed there for as long as I could, be fore consciousness lost me as well.
I awoke to voices. Hermione, Ron, and Harry. He was up now, the bed curtains pushed back, the window closed, taking the ruffling breeze away from them. Hermione was sitting on Ron's bed, his arm draped around her, like it always should have been, Harry opposite them.
"Mum's freaking out a bit, she can't find Ginny at all, have you seen her?" Ron was saying.
Was it just my imagination, or did Harry perk up when my name left Ron's lips. Or just my mind. Probably my mind. He had more important matters, losing Lupin and Tonks, Fred. No. Fred died for the most honorable cause, and I refused to show him disrespect by lingering on tears and terrible memories. I cleared my head.
Hermione seemed to look surprised, "I'm sure Ginny would have come straight to see Harry," and she laughed at the scornful face Ron now wore, "Ronald, you irritable wart. After everything that's happened, you still feel the right to disapprove even the smallest bit of love. For goodness sake, we need all the love we can get." The she pulled Ron a little closer and the frown disappeared.
Harry was silent, brooding over a worn piece of paper. He was staring intensely at a one spot on the page, then blinked a few times. A mischievous smiled spread over his lips, and he turned to Hermione and Ron.
"Not to be rude, but could you get out. I need a moment alone." Ron stood, grabbed Hermione's hand, and wordlessly left the room, while his girlfriend glanced over her shoulder in confusion. And that was it. I was alone, hidden, with Harry.
He stood, eyes glued to the paper, he crossed the room, and stood near the chair where I sat. My heart beat out of my chest, did he know I was hidden here? Sp safe I had felt, in a pile of invisibility, but now, fear cut along my chest. How could he know? His hand stretched out, and touch my knee.
He looked up, and smiled, "Ginny, I know your there." The his had bunched, and pulled the cloak away, and he looked upon my. Bloodshot eyes, the new scar running across my cheek, my hair tangled beyond possibility. He took in all of this, and slid next to me in the chair. We were silent, then I reached up to brush away the matted ink black hair from his face. I dared myself to lean forward, press my lips to his ear, whisper the last lyrics for the poem I had wrote him so many years ago, "The hero who conquered the dark lord." Then I brought my face to his, and hovered my lips near his, so close they could almost touch his. It was his choice, I silently said, to kiss me or not. He moved quickly in, and brought his face to mine, and kissed me. Sweet, was his breath, and a trembling hand traced my new wound. It was complete bliss. The hero who conquered the dark lord...