The Battle of Hogwarts had barely ended before the thoughts crowding Harry's mind began driving him absolutely bonkers. After it was all said and done, he undoubtedly started to fall apart on the inside. Because he suppressed his emotions for years at No. 4, his cunning ability to do so in such a crucial time were detrimental to his well-being. The Weasleys were mourning, along with many, many others who had suffered similar losses. McGonnagall was tending to school matters, and everyone else was celebrating the final fall of the Dark Lord. Though Harry knew the help was there if he needed it, he refused to bow down to his inner demons. He did that before, and despite living, he may as well have died instead. After all, he was The Boy Who Lived, twice over. What kind of man would he be if he led the world to believe that he was anything but okay?
The very least of his thoughts were what would be expected. Orphaned young but still at an unsteady age, nevertheless his indescribable capacity as a wizard, most men his age would wonder what their next move would be. Where would they live? Who all would blame him for the masses of dead? How would his life change from here on out? As if he wasn't already famous enough, this would surely fan the flames. He was a drowning in a whirlpool of thoughts, and all he wanted was a single damn millisecond of peace. Instead, he was a walking zombie.
Of course, Ron and Hermione had shown him the kind of love he was truly accustomed to. They supported him, hugged him, and assured them that they were there for him. All he needed to do was say the word. Granted, he wouldn't have to. They knew him well enough to know what he needed, but under these circumstances, the duo needed each other. After seven long years, the truth had come to light about Ron and Hermione's mutual sentiments, and just as with any adrenaline rush, the aftermath of such an awaited revelation was bound to be nothing short of whimsically amazing. Hermione assumed her new, unofficial spot as a Weasley, jumping in, as expected, to do her part and then some to help the family out with their tragic loss. It wasn't personal that Ron and Hermione were attached at the hip. If anything, it was about time... Just unconventional for Harry's sake. Nonetheless, the situation was exactly what it was. They were an item now, and if there was one thought Harry could feasibly assemble, it was sheer joy that fate had finally worked itself out for them.
At the first chance to steal away from the crowd, Harry slipped away. The castle was in shambles, and the large piles of debris in an apocalyptic scene made for easy coverage. He dodged slowly between all the wreckage, making his way down what remained of what was once a great hallway leading into the closest thing he had of a home. The Boy Who Lived, now a man, ambled drunkenly with no destination in mind. He walked for what seemed like an eternity until he could no longer hear the sorrowful wails and jubilant celebrations. It was too much for Harry.
When he found a suitable spot, he sat down next to a wall, pulling his knees to his chest. He removed his wire spectacles from his face and laid them next to his feet. Harry wiped his face on his robes, lifting what felt like a pound of dirt from his skin. It was in that moment he realized how exhausted he was in all aspects. He left his face lying on his shoulder, furrowing his brows. His ears were ringing, his chest and arms were burning with a sensation he'd never felt before, and the entire world around him seemed to be spinning. Harry knew he was completely out of earshot and sight, but he still felt too close to people. He picked up his glasses and began to run. He ran as fast as his feet could take him, almost as if death were on his heels with Voldemort leading the way. At that very thought, he stopped in his tracks.
"That's exactly what I want," he screamed aloud. "Take me! Let me die!" He turned around to face Lord Voldemort again. Harry laughed in his face. "This is what you've waited for," he bellowed at the hallucination. "Kill me!"
The words he spoke couldn't be more true. In his mind was etched a portrait from hours before. He was surrounded by his mother, father and Sirius. How he longed to go back in time and change his decision to come back to save the world. How Harry Potter, the greatest wizard of the new generation, wanted to be selfish. Only this time, if he died, he wouldn't come back and he'd have at least two more loved ones awaiting him.
Suddenly, the Voldemort in front of him disappeared. This confused Harry greatly, and once again, he was stuck in a no-win situation. Back at square one. Stuck living and breathing, attempting to deal, merely surviving, while he was dead inside. It had only been hours since Voldemort's fall, and Harry couldn't fathom living the rest of his life in angst. Had he died, he would have been much better off. A rush of emotions hit the hero like a hot Hogwarts Express loaded to the gill with students for a new term. All Harry wanted was to truly let loose, and with that earnest longing, a familiar doorway made itself visible to him.
At the sight of the Room of Requirement, Harry could breathe a bit. He presumed it to be gone for good, as the last time he had seen it was when it was ablaze with Draco Malfoy on the back of his broom. Hogwarts was full of surprises, and the fact that the room survived was not a shock. He walked toward the door and entered a room full of nothing except a small, wooden chair. Nearly every time Harry had used the room, it's appearance was different, minus the occasions it was occupied by Dumbledore's Army. Once, he had passed the room in need of a quiet place to study for exams. On another occasion, he needed a place to practice his dancing skills before the Yule Ball. He had never told anyone about that time, but he remembered it just as vividly as any other. He found Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem there, and despite that being important, the most notable experience he shared with the Room of Requirement was one he would value until his untimely death, be that when it may... That one occasion was with Ginny.
Normally, the thought of the youngest Weasley brought to Harry an immense feeling of love he had never felt before. Today, in this moment, he needed her, yes... But his mind was in an inept place to give her the attention she truly deserved. Hell, he left her for a year with no verbal explanation. For that, he would never deserve her. He would forever cherish what he assumed to be their last kiss, and at the right time, he would dismiss her for good. She deserved better, but the thought of her with someone else drove him even more insane.
That's when the tears came. The floodgates opened at the vision of what could have been. In an alternate reality, Harry would have been raised by two loving, very much so alive, parents. He would have lived a life so perfectly normal, and he wouldn't have this guilt on his shoulders. He wouldn't have had to leave the love of his life, and he wouldn't have to ever see her with someone else, maybe Dean again.
"Why me!?" Harry cried. "God, why me!?" He sat in the chair and bawled so hard he could have filled Dumbledore's pensieve with liquid pain. Harry was bogged down, at his wit's end. He wished he had paid more attention in his lessons. Was there a spell for suicide? He'd heard of several Muggle ways to take one's own life, but he didn't recall the specifics. He did know he'd need a rope, and he had the chair. He squeezed his eyes and tried with all his might to relay to the Room his need. He opened them to find nothing. Nothing at all, to which caused him to cry even more.
-
"Ron! Hermione! Have you seen Harry?" Ginny asked in a frenzy. Her forehead was dripping and her robes were sodden with sweat. Her eyes were as large as galleons, and her amber locks were frizzed to no avail.
"No, Gin, we haven't seen him in about 10 minutes," Ron replied. Of course, it had been hours since Harry's departure. His repose, however, was accurate in Ron's mind. Hermione had fallen asleep in his lap, and he her hair softly, making up for seven years of lost time with each motion. Had she been awake, she most certainly would have been of more help than Ginny's brother. "I'm sure he's around here somewhere," Ron said. His eyes, too, showed signs of fatigue that had built up over the last year.
"Honestly, Ron! You call yourself a best friend! He's been gone much longer than a matter of minutes. Get your head out of your ass and you'd know just as well as I that something is awfully wrong," Ginny retorted hotly. She felt her face turning redder by the minute. It would match her hair momentarily. Instead of waiting around to argue, she spun around defiantly on her heel and stormed off.
"Think, Ginny, think," she instructed herself aloud. "Where would he go...?" She knew Harry Potter better than anyone, even Ron and Hermione, though they'd never admit it. No one knew the hours she and Harry spent together secretly. She told him the deepest desires of her heart, how she dreamed of being rich one day and spoiling her children with material things because while her parents did the best they could and she was appreciative, she wanted more for her own. She confided in Harry that she wanted to be a professional Quidditch player, but not for Chudley. (She swore him to secrecy that he'd never reveal that to her immediate older brother.) Likewise, Harry told her things he never dreamed of telling anyone else, such as the details of his treatment by his Muggle relatives and how much it scarred him. To this day, Ginny knew he couldn't stand being alone... Which made her worry even worse. Still, she couldn't think of where he may have gone to.
"For Merlin's sake, Ginny, you're worthless," she thought to herself. "Why didn't you think of this before!?" Across the way, she spotted George. It was a long shot, and even though he may not be in the best state of mind to be reminded of how he came to be involved with the Marauder's map, it was her only hope. George may not even have it, but at this point, it was her only hope.
She approached her brother, pulled him to the side and got straight to the point. Even if Lord Voldemort was dead for good, Harry wasn't eliminated from danger forever. She didn't know what troubles he could face, but Ginny knew without a shadow of a doubt that he needed her. She could feel it in her gut. After explaining this to George, a pang of what Ginny assumed to be a stinging reminder appeared on his face, just as she predicted. He stood quietly and shook his head.
"I'm sorry, Gin... I don't have it. And to be quite honest, I have no idea where to find it. I will say he looked fine. I saw Harry walk off about an hour and a half ago toward the great hallway where Snape assembled you guys —"
"Exactly where did he go? Who was he with? Why didn't you go after him!?" Ginny rattled off a million questions in a shrill tone. "Does nobody give a damn about the man who saved all of our asses!? First Ron, now you!"
She didn't wait for a response. Again, the fiery red head stormed off and broke into a sprint. She ran at a pace that could have rivaled the speed of a Nimbus 2002. She stopped only when her legs physically couldn't carry her another centimeter and her chest hurt from running. Quidditch had been cancelled that year, so she wasn't in stellar shape as she normally was. She fell down on the floor and began to sob, not realizing exactly how in sync her and Harry's hearts really were. The small worry knots she had in her stomach had become tumors, and she knew with every passing minute, Harry was falling further and further into his own grave.
Ginny closed her eyes and propped up on the very same wall Harry had. She said a small prayer, something Harry had told her about ages ago. Muggles believed in a force greater than magic known as God. Supposedly, if you ask sincerely, you'll receive. She didn't know if she believed it, but she was willing to try anything. Ginny knew Harry's mother was of Muggle descent, and maybe if she prayed to this god, it would accept her plea on behalf of Harry's mother's family. For all she knew, Harry could be planning to flee, if he hadn't already. They had once talked about fleeing together. Harry's lone wish was to lead a life that no one knew his name. Instead, tonight, he became more famous than ever, and the possibility of his flight became more real to Ginny at the realization of that.
She was a sensible girl, and the little time she had spent with Hermione had taught her some very valuable Muggle tricks. She knew she'd have to calm down in order to think more clearly. She occupied her mind with what was before her, taking in what was left of Hogwarts. Classrooms were no longer recognizable. The hallways were bleak, and the girls' and boy's loo rooms were demolished. Still, she clung to the happy thoughts that the place had given her. Most of all, she reminisced about her times spent with Harry. During his sixth year, the two snuck off together like down this very hallway at 2 a.m., giggling the entire way, hidden under his Invisibility Cloak. They carried their brooms, and no sooner than their feet hit the grass outside, they struck out to the Quidditch pitch. They played for "practice" that night, but in all reality, it was more for keeps. She recognized how much they had in common, and Harry came to appreciate Ginny for her lovely personality. Furthermore, Ginny believed that was the exact night she fell in love with the Potter boy, and she tried to tell him in a roundabout way when she had the chance. As soon as they returned to the castle premises under the cloak, she grabbed his elbow. He turned to face her, and when she had the chance, she blew it. Instead of speaking her piece, she broke into tears. Harry didn't ask questions. Ginny was emotional, always had been since the Chamber of Secrets incident, and he assumed this was just another episode. So he wiped her tears and held her close. He kissed her forehead and held it there, and she let out a small whimper of regret. That feeling crept up on her now; how hard it was to just say three simple words then would be easy as pie now, if only she could find him.
Only when she completely settled down did she hear it. Her prayers to this God creature didn't work exactly. She may not have done it right, praying, but something worked. She heard another person's cries. It was faint, but she had spent time enough with Harry during his bouts of nightmares to know his cries. She shot to her feet and began to walk in hopes of getting warmer to his cries. Oddly, they didn't seem to be neither softer or louder. This frustrated Ginny greatly. She took a deep breath and resisted screaming out loud and stomping her feet like a child. She put her hands around the back of her head, interlocking her fingers, and closed her eyes. Every fiber of her being longed for Harry in more than one way, and when she opened her eyes, nothing short of a miracle was before her: the Room of Requirement.
-
His sobs were clear as day, and she bolted to the entrance. The sight in front of her made her fall to her knees.
"Harry James Potter, what happened!?" Ginny screamed. She managed to push herself up to her feet once more and ran to his side. She knelt down beside him and laid his head on her lap. Before her was a battered and beaten man, almost unrecognizable. She'd seen him briefly after his showdown with Voldemort, and he didn't look this way then. She began to wonder if a some desperate Death Eater had attacked him, tried foolishly to finish off what even the Dark Lord couldn't manage. His hair was tangled and matted. His glasses were on one side of the room, his wand on the other. There were blackened spots on the wall that Ginny couldn't distinguish the cause of. Blood streamed from his busted nose and lip, and his face as a whole was bruised to the point of a purple hue all over. "Harry," she muttered out through a cracked voice. Tears streamed down her own face. "I knew something was wrong. I've been looking for you everywhere!"
"Ginny," he said almost inaudibly. "I'm sorry." His body shook, bouncing as though he was trying to cry but couldn't. "I just wanna go!"
"Where? Where do you want to go?" Ginny asked. She took off her robe and began to wipe the blood from his mug. Sure, she could have used the Tergeo spell, but doing it by hand felt more personal...
She had so many questions, but whatever he was willing to give at the moment, she'd take it instead of prying selfishly.
"Nowhere," Harry explained, shaking his head. "I want to go, Ginny. For good. I want to go!"
She froze at the sound of these words. Ginny looked around the room and thought she understood. She stripped down to her undergarments, making a pillow for Harry's head by balling up her robes. She gently laid his head down and went to his wand.
"Prior incantato," she whispered, afraid to see the result. Meanwhile, Harry kept muttering to himself, and only the phras "want to go" was understandable.
Sure enough, the last spell casted was one of the Unforgivables, Avada Kadavara. It all made sense now... He wanted to die. How exactly he thought the curse would work on himself, she wasn't sure, but the effort alone worried her.
She rushed back over to Harry and lifted his head. She pulled him with all her might over to the wall and propped him up. She hustled back to her robes, fidgeted in them, and found her wand. "Episkey. Ferula. Tergeo. Vulnera Sanentur," she whispered, along with other healing spells. She didn't know what the extent of his injuries was, but with every small evidence of harm disappearing, she lightened a bit. He seemed to be coming around a little, and after about five minutes of repeating the spells, he gave an indication that he was in an okay state of mind.
He smiled weakly up at the beautiful young woman he fell in love with many years ago. She returned his smile and pulled him closer to her. She wrapped her arms around him his neck, and he exchanged with her a small bout of nose kisses. Ginny knew then he was okay, at least physically. That was a practice he initiated one night in the forbidden section of the library, and since then, he did it on random occasions.
"Harry, I've been looking for you, I swear... I knew you weren't okay! I asked George and Ron and Hermione and I searched what's left of this dreadful-looking campus now and I just knew you weren't okay. I know what you tried to do and I need you to promise me that you are not going to "go" anywhere! You left me once. It was temporary. I know you didn't have a choice, but this, on the other hand, was! I cannot live a life without you permanently because —"
"I know," he responded, cutting her off in mid-sentence. Tears stung his eyes. He desperately wanted to explain. He looked away because meeting her gaze would push him over the edge. He wouldn't be able to hold back the tears and words that he knew needed to come out. Just like always, she deserved it, more so now than ever. She just found him half dead, and truth be told, if she were to work things out with him, she'd have to help fix him for the rest of his life. It was unfair to her, and he knew that he would have to give her his all. Time and time again, she'd spared him, and as much as he wanted to explain in the moment, he couldn't. He was overwhelmed with embarrassment, and he needed Ginny like never before.
Harry sat up straight and pulled her into his lap. He cupped her petite face in his hands stroked her cheeks with his thumbs ever so lightly. Ginny Weasley was beautiful beyond words. She always had been, even when he first saw her almost eight years ago at King's Cross. She was a little adolescent looking then, which was to be expected... But now, she looked even more stunning than ever this close to his face. Her brown eyes met his emeralds, and he was taken aback by how much she had aged in a year.
She began again. Now seemed like as good a time as any to hear what she needed to hear. "Harry. I need you to promise me —" Now, she was the one needing solace. She didn't hold a grudge for his departure before, but it did scar her in every sense of the word. Finding him in this state didn't help matters. True as it may be, Ginny did want him to promise her he wouldn't leave her because she wanted to be with him, but more than anything, she needed his word because she felt responsible for his happiness. In Harry's darkest hours, Ginny was always behind the scenes with him, making him smile when it seemed impossible. That was something she prided herself on. It brought her great joy to be his sunshine during a hurricane.
"Ginny, look... I promise. I'll give you whatever you want. If you want a house with 100 house elves and a family double the size of your own, consider it done. If you want the two of us to run away for a bit, you pick a spot. If you want me to leave you alone, I can make that happen. I promise you, I am not going anywhere without you if that's what you want. I was in a really bad place tonight, and you, as always, were my saving grace. I can't do life without you, either, okay?"
Arthur and Molly raised Ginny to be a respectable young woman, and now that Harry was okay, she felt the need to put back on her robes. She stood up to dress, and Harry kept talking. "But please... Don't make me repeat the thoughts I had tonight. All I know is that if you choose me, I'm going to be a hell of a lot of work... I know that from here on out, I will never be anything short of The Boy Who Lived. But please, Ginny, I'm begging you... Just for tonight, just with you, let me just be Harry."
He took her hand and tugged her downward. She took a seat back on his lap, and tears rolled down his face. Ginny propped her forehead on his and nodded her head. She was so selfless, much like Harry, only he didn't see it. She knew by the gist of his statement why he did what he did, and in due time, he would open up about it. For now, she decided to enjoy the moment.
She closed her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. It was over. The worrying about Harry tonight, the gloom of Voldemort's reign, the angst of what he was constantly burdened with... All of it – done. He brushed his lips tenderly against hers, and before they knew it, their breathing was in rhythm and expressing their emotions about one another had never been easier or clearer. They'd shared small kisses here and there, but something was different this time. Harry was always reserved, but the chemistry tonight was unlike ever before. He ran his hand in her hair and pulled her kindly to him.
"I love you, Ginevra Weasley," he said faintly in her ear as he pulled away from her lips. At the sound of those words, her heart stopped. For years now, she'd waited to hear them. The moment was all she ever dreamed of and more... Not because he finally said it, but because she knew he meant it. It was Harry who admired Ginny a short time beforehand. Now, she gazed at him with a look of love that no one could dream of possessing. His black, unruly hair was perfect, and his eyes glistened. His scar that so many adored for the meaning, Ginny loved because it was a symbol of who he had become.
"I love you, too," she whispered back. Ginny laid her head on his shoulder and felt his warm breath on her neck. It sent chills down her spine, and it would have suited her just fine if this entire moment could be bottled up and kept in her back pocket at all times. How lucky was she to finally have the boy she only dreamed of being with so many years ago? How lucky was she that he picked her just as much as she chose him? There would never be enough galleons in the world to buy their love, and together, they would mend each others' hearts. Together, Harry and Ginny would steal away like thieves in the night to build a life others would envy.