Too Hard to Let Go
"Harry Potter is dead." Ginny didn't even listen to the rest as the magnified voice rang through the grounds, slicing open every soul and pouring out hope with four little words. Their hope, their reason for fighting, their symbol of strength, and so much more to her, was gone forever.
Before she could fully comprehend this idea, she heard two loud shrieks, and Ron and Hermione rushed past her. She watched their backs for half a second as they ran in front of her down the front steps, then seemed to come to herself.
"HARRY!" she shrieked, even louder than the other two, and ran out after them.
The sun was rising, casting a rosy glow over the battlefield, which had been mostly cleared of bodies in the interim between fighting.
Ginny ran, full-out, overtaking Ron and Hermione in her desperation to get to Harry. The message seemed to have dawned on everyone else, as they were all crowding in the doorway, on the steps, or else flooding down the steps behind Ron, Hermione, and Ginny.
Slipping across the bloodstained grass, Ginny continued to run. She could see Hagrid ahead, cradling something in his arms, and realized, with a lurch in the pit of her stomach, that it was Harry's body.
There were screams and yells around her, outcries of fury and despair. Many had stayed in the doorway to castle or on the steps, but a few were running down them, running toward the Death Eaters, Voldemort, Hagrid, and Harry. Ginny felt someone by her, nearly brushing her side as he ran past. She turned her head without stopping or slowing down. Neville was rushing by, a wild look on his face.
Yards away from Voldemort and his followers, all those who had ventured from the castle stopped dead, nearly at the same time, as if an invisible barrier was keeping them away, creating a No Man's Land between themselves and the Death Eaters.
They stood there, Ginny, Ron, Hermione, Neville, all of the D.A., and a few others, staring into the cold, hard faces of Voldemort and the Death Eaters, as Hagrid looked at the ground, sobbing piteously.
Ginny could just see Voldemort saying something to Hagrid, though she couldn't make out what it was, and next moment Hagrid was laying Harry down on the grass at Voldemort's feet. It made Ginny sick to see.
Voldemort was speaking again, telling them all how Harry was a coward, but again she did not listen to the words. She stared, transfixed, at the body on the ground, never taking her eyes off him, as if by staring hard enough, with enough feeling, she could bring him back.
As she continued to stare, she felt some of her will to fight, will to survive, leave her, and at the same time, she was sure she felt something snap inside her, perhaps her heart, perhaps her spirit—whatever it was, it was a tangible feeling, and one she couldn't bear.
Ginny felt Neville move beside her, and knew in an instant what he was about to do. Without thinking, she reached out and grabbed his arm, keeping him from rushing forward toward Voldemort.
Neville stopped and looked down at Ginny in slight surprise. "Wha—?"
"Let me do it, Neville."
Neville, comprehending, nodded at Ginny, who strode forward purposefully, not running or yelling, just striding forward, a confident look on her face and fire in her eyes.
Voldemort watched in mild amusement and surprise as a beautiful red-haired girl strode toward him, leaving the comfort of their side of the field, and moving across No Man's Land toward him. She really was brave, he had to give her that. And quite pretty. It was a shame he'd have to kill her once she got too close. But he was curious. He'd see what she had to say first.
Her confidence never wavered with every step she took, every foot closer to Voldemort she came. Something had broken inside of Ginny at the sight of Harry's body, and it had taken away all sense of fear.
She came within two feet of Voldemort and stopped, her hands on her hips, glaring at him with all the confidence in the world.
"How dare you? How dare you talk about him like that? Harry was twice the wizard you'll ever be, and dead or alive, we will continue to fight for him."
Voldemort looked amused, impressed even.
"Well, well. Such a big mouth for such a little girl. I would take care, if I were you, to watch the words I spoke to Lord Voldemort."
Ginny laughed in his face. She couldn't help it. She wondered, for the briefest of insane moments, if he'd been this arrogant as a student at Hogwarts. It wouldn't surprise her in the slightest, and although she was perfectly aware that he could extinguish her life with a flick of his wand as easily as he could extinguish the flame of a candle, all she could think was that his arrogance irritated her.
"Better a big mouth than a big head. At least I don't fancy myself a lord or anything of the sort. You know what I think? I think you're a common murderer whose head really needs to be deflated. You think you're a big shot for killing people? You think you sit on a throne on top of the world because you've taken lives? That doesn't earn you the respect you seem to think you deserve with that name you've given yourself. It only earns you enemies. Enemies who are willing to fight to the death for those who have earned our respect, like the wizard lying at your feet whose own feet you're not worthy to touch."
Voldemort's laugh started quietly, deep inside his throat, then gained volume as he threw back his head and laughed aloud. While his head was tilted back, Ginny drew her wand.
No, Ginny, shut up, shut up!" That was all Harry could think through Ginny's speech, as panic rose inside him. He wanted desperately to yell, to move, to give some sign, subtle or not, that he was alive, that she should be careful. That mouth was bound to get her in trouble one day.
Just, please, Lord, don't let it be today, he prayed silently.
"Such insolence." Voldemort drew his own wand. They faced each other warily, the most powerful Dark wizard in the world, and this fiery, passionate, sixteen-year-old girl.
Ginny could feel her heart pounding. Some of the fear was returning, now, when she knew she could be dead any second. No. She wouldn't be. She refused, blatantly refused, to die. She had to live for her family, for her parents who had already suffered so much loss, had to win this battle, both to finish the job for Harry as well as to avenge his death. So much hung on this moment. And Ginny raised her wand.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Two voices screamed, two jets of green light shot through the air
"NOOOO! GINNY!" Harry launched himself off the ground and ran toward her, abandoning all pretense, not caring who saw him, not caring if Voldemort killed him now. He'd heard both their voices. Who had won, who had won? He knew the answer even in the split second before he saw her.
Ginny was falling, crumpling to the ground, a mass of red hair cascading around her. Her piercing shriek met his ears and cut him deeper than any knife
Harry? She wasn't even sure how the thought was able to form in her mind. But she thought it. She thought his name in the instant before her life vanished, and in that same instant saw him running toward her. She felt an instantaneous pain so severe she never would have dreamed it possible.
What had she done? She should have waited, fought when it was time. She should have—
Darkness engulfed Ginny Weasley, and she breathed for the last time.
POTTER?POTTER?! So he had survived after all. Voldemort made a mental note to punish Narcissa later. He raised his wand. Potter was running, paying no attention to him. He could finish him now and be done with it.
But he stopped himself. No, no this was better. Let him see his little girlfriend's broken body. Let him suffer first. There would be time to kill him in a few moments.
He watched Harry's retreating back with mounting, unsuppressed glee. Watched him kneel on the grass by her body, heard him cry out and watched the tears pour down his face. This was better than he could have hoped for.
Harry threw himself on the ground next to her, turned her over and gently pushed the strands of hair off her face. He tried desperately to stem his tears because he could barely see Ginny through them, and he had to see her. He had to see her.
A despair as he had never known, not even when Sirius had died, seeped through him as his tears cleared and he was able to see Ginny's face, beautiful even in death, her eyes staring blankly up at him.
"Ginny…no…" A fresh wave of tears flooded his eyes, as he closed them and lay his head on Ginny's stomach. He wondered vaguely why Voldemort had not killed him yet—he had a clear shot—but in truth, he did not care.
Sitting up, he wiped his eyes furiously and pulled Ginny into his lap. He just wanted to sit there and hold her, hold her for all eternity.
But there was something he knew he had to take care of first. He heard the footsteps advancing behind him, slowly, quietly. He looked down at the dead girl in his arms, and his despair slowly changed to an anger so fierce he wasn't sure his body could contain it. He heard Voldemort approaching behind him. Slowly he pulled his wand from his robes, and then turned his head a fraction of an inch, so he could see Voldemort's position.
He carefully lay Ginny back on the ground, promising himself it would only be for a moment; then, without getting up, he tightened his grasp on his wand, turned around, and let all the anger toward the man who had taken so many innocent lives burst out of him, flow through his wand, and hit the man who, in life, had been known first as Tom Riddle, then as Lord Voldemort, and now would be simply be a murderer with a headstone.
Voldemort lay still, the Killing Curse having taken effect. Bellatrix had been right—he had really meant it this time. And, without thinking, he shot the same spell at the snake, who had been writhing on the ground, and she lay still as well, and all the pieces of Voldemort's soul were gone at last.
Yells and cries erupted around him and back at the castle as everyone streamed around him, across the field, toward the body of the finally vanquished enemy.
But Harry did not join them. He faced Ginny, slumping again on the ground, and pulled her back in his lap, cradling her in his arms.
He shut out the noise around him, shut out the rest of the world, so that he heard nothing. He closed his eyes so that he saw nothing but darkness, and he felt nothing but Ginny in his arms.
And then he cried silently, so as to keep his pain to himself, a private event between him and Ginny.
Before long, though, he felt the presence of people standing near him. He ignored them at first, but when they did not go away, he finally forced his eyes open and looked up into the shocked, grief-stricken faces of Ron and Hermione.
Hermione had her hands over her mouth. Ron looked simply dumbfounded.
"Harry, you're—you're alive, oh, thank goodness, but Ginny…Ginny…"
Hermione hugged him, then knelt down, looking at Ginny through tear-filled eyes.
"I—thought we'd lost you, mate. You're okay…" Ron gave him a kind of absentminded half-hug. "But Ginny—" his voice constricted. "First Fred, now Ginny…" And Ron began to cry, too.
The three of them knelt on the ground, their arms around each other, Ginny in Harry's lap, all three crying fervently and ignoring the rest of the scene.
"I'll—I'll go get Mum and Dad," Ron sobbed. He got up to leave, and Hermione went with him.
Harry looked down at Ginny again, and stopped himself crying long enough to talk. As far as he was concerned, it was just the two of them out there.
"Ginny, I'm so sorry. So many people, so many people have died for me, and you're the last person I wanted to do that. I love you, I always will, always."
It was nearly impossible to keep the tears at bay, and harder than he would have thought to find the right words to say to a corpse. So he simply sat there and held her until Ron and Hermione came back with the rest of the Weasleys, so many of whom—no, all of whom, had suffered for him in some way, shape, or form.
And here he was, holding the body of another member of their family, another member whom he had led to her death.
"Mrs. Weasley—Mr. Weasley—I'm so sorry…" Mrs. Weasley burst into tears, Mr. Weasley tried to comfort her, and George, Percy, and Ron looked as though they didn't know how to handle another loss. Especially George, who looked like he was about to break down for good.
"Come on, let's—we have to get her inside," Mr. Weasley said in a strained voice.
"I'll carry her," Harry volunteered instantly, not ready to let go of her yet.
And as he got up off the ground and made his way back toward the castle with Ginny in his arms and the other Weasleys and Hermione behind him, he knew he would never be able to let go of her, and that he was carrying the body of the girl he would have married, the girl he would love for the rest of his life.