Mention of a past Ginny relationship and one sided Ginny/Harry.
Disclaimer: I do not own any of the things you recognize from the Harry Potter books they are the property of J.K. RowlingI have created this story without the motive of creating a profit, all I own is a cat and even that is debatable.
Song of the dead
The war had dragged on for years. Children newly induced to Hogwarts could not remember a time without war. Without death. Their battles had even slipped through to the muggle public through the media. However, even though the world as a whole is blind, they know what will come. For they have faced it before, had seen the never ending cycle.
He stood there, on the battleground; all around him corpses were piled. The mist and gloom almost hid him completely from searching eyes. It didn't matter though, a smile cresting her lips as she staggered to her feet. She had searched for him often enough now she knew what to look for. He was as still as death. Rising mist appearing to swallow him: the epitome of a phantom. After every battle she sought him out, looking for the shadow of a man; the man who had once brought her so much heartache. The smile dropped off her face, every instinct screaming something was wrong. Quickly she glanced round. Nothing. Frowning she stepped forward. He didn't turn round, didn't even acknowledge her presence.
"Harry?" Her quiet voice seemed too loud, too gentle with the harshness of reality surrounding them.
For a second she sees the boy, the youth she fell in love with. The man lifts is head, turning away from his upraised fist. Vaguely she realises it's dark with blood. Even without him turning round, she knows his expression. Her footsteps have halted, eyes boring into his back; searching for answers she already knows she won't find. After what seems to be an eternity he finally turns round. It breaks her heart. She didn't realise she still had one. He looks just like he did back then: lost. There's more to it than that though, she sees the lines in his face, the pain and endless, endless grief in his eyes and above all… disbelief.
"It's over." The whispered words hang like tomb stones in the air between them. His eyes expressing what his face does not.
For a still second she just stares. Her mind finds the information incomprehensible. With a sudden rush she understands. It's finally over. The last of the death eaters has fallen – there simply are no more to fight. There will be no more death for her. No more battles to fight. No more, simply no more. She's smiling; she realises from somewhere far off. Realises she's dancing with glee. Then she sees him and she comes back to herself. His face is the same porcelain facade it has been for so long the others can't remember him without it. Her heart breaks a little more. She understands. Facing her now is the weapon, the-boy-who-lived. Not Harry. Never Harry. He isn't allowed to be anything less - anything less than what they want, what they need.
His eyes betray him, cool green specks in the growing darkness and in their depths she sees the chaos. "It's over." He can't believe it. For what is he without war? He became a soldier for them, became their hero and their martyr. He became what he needed to be. To complete the mission – for Albus and for them. He became a fighter, though he was one already. He grew up fighting, surviving and now he need only live. He doesn't know how though, knows it's too dangerous for him to learn. He is a weapon. He is made for killing and death, he fought the danger and now the only threat left is himself.
She knows he isn't sane, isn't who he used to be and never, ever can be again. He isn't the boy she gave her heart to, is not the boy who cared so much for people. He doesn't love her anymore, she isn't certain he ever did. Slowly he raises the bloodied fist again, salutes her and with a sudden rush of power. Vanishes.
Turning her head up to the blackened sky, she lets her tears fall. She understands. She can't help but wonder if Voldemort had really died that day, if the Death Eater's had been killed… would he have lived? Would they have lived? She doesn't know and so all she can do is cry, safe in the knowledge that is truly, truly over. They have won.
Fin.
The time it took me to write this was about three hours, so hopefully I haven't made glaring mistakes. It's almost amusing that I ended up writing about Ginny; I always thought their relationship occurred rather fast. So it's probably obvious when I say I never really liked that pairing.