Author's Note: This story is about how I believe Ginny would have reacted if Harry had been killed by Voldemort during the attack on Hogwarts in Deathly Hallows.

Warning: Contains Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows spoilers.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the Harry Potter content in this story; all rights belong to J.K. Rowling. Any content in bold was derived from either Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince or Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Time is not something to be treated lightly. We must make the most of the short amount of time we are here. If we are not careful, our time will waste away until we have nothing left.

The pain was more than she could bear, nothing she'd ever experienced in all of her years. She was wise, yes, but not wise enough to know when to let go.

Ginny sat through the funeral and watched his corpse be lowered into the ground. She had hoped it would not come to this. He was dead, the only love she'd ever had…was dead. He'd left her in order to protect her from Voldemort, and yet it seemed Voldemort had still been able to harm her. He had taken the one thing that mattered most. And she hated him for it.

Regretfully, she remembered the night she fell in love with Harry Potter.

Harry looked around; there was Ginny running towards him; she had a hard, blazing look in her face as she threw her arms around him. And without thinking, without planning it, without worrying about the fact that fifty people were watching, Harry kissed her.

She felt a slight tear roll down her cheek. The memory was painful enough after he left her, but now she would never be able to even see him again. He was gone…forever. Why did he have to be so heroic? And why did she have to love him for it? Her heart caught as her mind defiantly relived some of their best moments together.

"You'd think people had better things to gossip about," said Ginny, as she sat on the common room floor, leaning against Harry's legs and reading the Daily Prophet. "Three dementor attacks in a week, and all Romilda Vane does is ask me if it's true you've got a hippogriff tattooed across your chest."

Ron and Hermione both roared with laughter. Harry ignored them.

"What did you tell her?"

"I told her it's a Hungarian Horntail," said Ginny, turning a page of the newspaper idly. "Much more macho."

"Thanks," said Harry grinning. "And what did you tell her Ron's got?"

"A Pygmy Puff, but I didn't say where."

Ron scowled as Hermione rolled around laughing.

She was sobbing now, her tears beyond her control. She just wanted to run outside and scream at the top of her lungs. She was angry now, partially at herself, partially at Harry and partially at Voldemort. Why did he have to come into her life only to leave it so soon. It wasn't fair. Such an act should be illegal. Once again memories plagued her, but this time they were not pleasant.

A much smaller and warmer hand had enclosed his and was pulling him upward. He obeyed its pressure without really thinking about it. Only as he walked blindly back through the crowd did he realize, from a trace of flowery scent on the air, that it was Ginny who was leading him back into the castle. Incomprehensible voices battered him, sobs and shouts and wails stabbed the night, but Harry and Ginny walked on, back up the steps into the entrance hall. Faces swam on the edges of Harry's vision, people were peering at him, whispering, wondering, and Gryffindor rubies glistened on the floor like drops of blood as they made their way toward the marble staircase.

"We're going to the hospital wing," said Ginny.

"I'm not hurt," said Harry.

"It's McGonagall's orders," said Ginny. "Everyone's up there, Ron and Hermione and Lupin and everyone -- "

Fear stirred in Harry's chest again: He had forgotten the inert figures he had left behind.

"Ginny, who else is dead?"

"Don't worry, none of us."

"But the Dark Mark -- Malfoy said he stepped over a body -- "

"He stepped over Bill, but it's all right, he's alive."

There was something in her voice, however, that Harry knew boded ill.

"Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure…he's a -- a bit of a mess, that's all. Greyback attacked him. Madam Pomfrey says he won't -- won't look the same anymore…"

Ginny's voice trembled a little.

"We don't really know what the aftereffects will be -- I mean, Greyback being a werewolf, but not transformed at the time."

She forced herself to not relive the memory. In truth, Bill was all right, but that didn't make the memory any less haunting. She felt almost ashamed. Here she was, worrying about the scars of her older brother, when the love her life was dead. Her brother would be fine, Harry would not. He would never be able to go home, and she would never be able to see his face again. Oh, what she wouldn't give to be able to see his smiling face one last time. Life is cruel and death is selfish.

"Ginny, listen…" he said very quietly, as the buzz of conversation grew louder around them and people began to get to their feet, "I can't be involved with you anymore. We've got to stop seeing each other. We can't be together."

She said, with an oddly twisted smile, "It's for some stupid, noble reason, isn't it?"

"It's been like…like something out of someone else's life, these last few weeks with you," said Harry. "But I can't…we can't…I've got things to do alone now."

She did not cry, she simply looked at him.

"Voldemort uses people his enemies are close to. He's already used you as bait once, and that was just because you're my best friend's sister. Think how much danger you'll be in if we keep this up. He'll know, he'll find out. He'll try and get to me through you."

"What if I don't care?" said Ginny fiercely.

"I care," said Harry. "How do you think I'd feel if this was your funeral…and it was my fault…"

She looked away from him, over the lake.

"I never really gave up on you," she said. "Not really. I always hoped…Hermione told me to get on with life, maybe go out with some other people, relax a bit around you, because I never used to be able to talk if you were in the room, remember? And she thought you might take a bit more notice if I was a bit more -- myself."

"Smart girl, that Hermione," said Harry, trying to smile. "I just wish I'd asked you sooner. We could've had ages…months…years maybe…"

"But you've been too busy saving the Wizarding world," said Ginny, half laughing. "Well…I can't say I'm surprised. I knew this would happen in the end. I knew you wouldn't be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort. Maybe that's why I like you so much."

But what about me, she thought to herself, Why couldn't you have been happy with just me? Why did you have to be so noble?

She sobbed. She knew he was so noble because it was who he was and that it's his destiny to fight Voldemort…was his destiny. Why does destiny have to be so hateful?! Why does destiny have to steal my happiness every time I think I've found it? Well…this time…I'm making my own destiny.

She knew there was no way possible she could bring him back from the dead, but that's not what she wanted. All she wanted was to be with him and, damn it, if she couldn't be with him in this life, then she'd be with him in the afterlife. The plan already forming in her mind, she began to run. As she ran, more memories played throughout her mind.

"You're underage!" Mrs. Weasley shouted at her daughter as Harry approached. "I won't permit it! The boys, yes, but you, you've to go home!"

"I won't!"

Ginny's hair flew as she pulled her arm out of her mother's grip.

"I'm in Dumbledore's Army --"

"A teenagers' gang!"

"A teenagers' gang that's about to take him on, which no one else has dared to do!" said Fred.

"She's sixteen!" shouted Mrs. Weasley. "She's not old enough! What you two were thinking, bringing her with you --"

Fred and George looked slightly ashamed of themselves.

"Mum's right, Ginny," said Bill gently. "You can't do this. Everyone underage will have to leave, it's only right."

"I can't go home!" Ginny shouted, angry tears sparkling in her eyes. "My whole family's here, I can't stand waiting there alone and not knowing and --"

Her eyes met Harry's for the first time. She looked at him beseechingly, but he shook his head and she turned away bitterly.

Running faster and faster, she could now see the lake. Oh, how she hated this place, the cause of her torment. But what she hated more was herself. Her mind, it seemed, desired to be traitorous.

"No!"

"No!"

"Harry! HARRY!"

Ron's, Hermione's, and Ginny's voices were worse than McGonagall's…the crowd of survivors took up the cause, screaming and yelling abuse at the Death Eaters until --

"SILENCE!" cried Voldemort, and there was a bang and a flash of bright light, and silence was forced upon them all. "It is over! Set him down, Hagrid, at my feet, where he belongs!"

…"You see?" said Voldemort…striding backward and forward right beside the place where he lay. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

"He beat you!" yelled Ron, and the charm broke, and the defenders of Hogwarts were shouting and screaming again until a second, more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more.

"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the castle grounds," said Voldemort, and there was relish in his voice for the lie, "killed while trying to save himself --"

Ginny snapped herself out of the memory full of lies. Harry was noble, he would have never done such an egotistical act. At last she made it to the lake, the place where he had taken her after that first kiss, the place where they talked for hours. The place where he'd first said he'd loved her. The place where she would forget it all. She stood by a willow tree, not noticing a single Black Rose resting at the base of the tree. Slowly, she raised her wand to her temple with a shaking arm and whispered with a weak voice, "Avada Kedavra."

Her body sank to the ground and, still with tears trailing from her eyes, she was dead with the Black Rose as her only memory.