HPFC Character Diversity Boot Camp
Character – Ginny Weasley
Prompt – Tears
Tears do not come easily to me. I am stronger than most people give me credit for. This year, the tears have been appearing much easier. For Harry. For Hermione. For Ron. Three of the people I care about most in the world and I have no idea where they are. For Mum, For dad. Two people who raised me to be who I am today and they are worried to the point of exhaustion about getting all of us through this war unscathed. For Bill. My eldest brother, bitten by a werewolf, although luckily, he isn't a werewolf himself. For Neville. The boy who is currently keeping me strong, covered in bruises and cuts for standing up for the younger kids. For Luna, who didn't come back to school after the Christmas break. For all the first years that were oh so excited to come to Hogwarts in the summer, only to be tortured and beaten to satisfy the evil nature of our resident Death Eaters. Tears even appear for Percy, my brother who abandoned us for power and money.
Hogwarts has changed dramatically in the months since my sixth year began. The Carrow siblings are ruthless with their punishment, they make Umbridge look like the kittens she kept pictures of. Headmaster Snape is rarely seen away from his office, not that many see this as a bad thing. The other teachers try to help us, they try not to send us to the Carrows if they can help it, and we behave in their classes.
I miss Harry so much it's like a constant stomach ache. The only time it lessons slightly is when I can help the other students, or when I talk back to the Carrows. I draw strength from the fact that Harry would never have backed down and taken their rubbish, would never have stood by and watched then use the cruciatus on first years. Neville has been a tower of strength, although he has paid dearly for his actions.
My tears, which come when I least expect them now, are salty on my lips as I lie here in my bed. I wonder where Harry, Ron and Hermione are, what they are doing and hoping they are keeping safe. I pray every night that he will come back to me whole and healthy, but with each passing day of silence, the hope dies a little inside. Sometimes as I lie here, I feel his eyes on me, as though he is watching me. Call me sappy, but that's the way I feel. I know It is impossible, I know that he most certainly has better things to think and worry about than me but the feeling remains and I am comforted by it.
I wonder to myself if Ron and Hermione have admitted their feelings for each other yet. I hope they have, because I believe they are all stronger together than apart. It has been obvious to a lot of people that the two are made for each other, and I wonder, have they realised it too.
The stars twinkle at me through the window and I gaze at the moon. Somewhere, near of far, Harry could be looking at the same moon right now and I smile to myself slightly at the thought. When we first got together at the unforgettable quidditch party, and for the weeks following, girls attacked me left right and centre, accusing me of being with him for his fame, his money, his looks. While I admit, his looks are an added bonus, none of these reasons are mine. Harry is unbelievable selfless, he is thoughtful and kind, he had a good sense of right and wrong and he can make me laugh. He's shy and downright awkward around girls, but to me that just makes him all the more lovable.
Sometimes I think back to our early years at Hogwarts and I cringe. My hero worship of the boy who lived is embarrassing. It wasn't until my third year, when I saw him come out of the maze with Cedric that I realised Harry Potter wasn't, and isn't, the boy who lived. Harry is just Harry, my shy loveable Harry.
My mother once told me when I was a little girl that when I grew up, I was going to marry the boy who lived and have lot of little babies. It makes me chuckle now when I think about it. Because of how right and wrong that is. In essence, I hope to marry him. But if I do, I won't be marrying the boy who lived. I'll be marrying Harry Potter.
And now the tears that come easily start to fall again because I have no idea if that reality is possible anymore. I don't know if I will survive the upcoming battle, because I know there will be one. I don't even know if I will survive the school year. I have no idea if Harry will live to defeat Voldemort, he might not even be alive now. I refuse to believe he is dead, I would know, in my heart I would know. And of course, if he was dead, the death eaters would spread the word quicker than Rita Skeeter can write a lie.
Hermione, the sister I never has is out there with him and my brother. Will she survive this war? I have no doubt that she is one of the best people for Harry to have with him. Between them I believe they can survive anything. I dream of better times when I sat with Hermione gossiping and giggling about the boys. When she helped with my homework. When I helped her with her hair.
Ron, my brother with whom I am closest to, out there somewhere with his best friends and I have no idea where. I know they need him with them, to keep them together, to keep them remembering who they are and remembering better times. Without him, the two of them will likely fall into a stupor, Hermione with her books and Harry will tart brooding uncontrollably. I remember when we were kids, Ron was always the one that had time for me, he would play games with me, help me steal the twins broomsticks and help me get them back for whatever stupid prank they had pulled on me.
As my tears fall, and I wonder and hope for a better tomorrow, I feel that Harry is thinking of me wherever he is, and I hope beyond hope that he knows I think of him too.