Disclaimer - I don't own Harry Potter or anything related.
Author's note - This is just a little look into Ginny's head during the Final Battle. I know, it's random and it's not that good. But, whatever, I just felt like writing it.
You know when you stare at something for a long time, you're eyes start to tear up, occasionally actually falling down your face, earning you strange looks from everyone around you?
I like to think that moments like that are allowing you to cry for everything you've lost, everything you were too scared, or too brave, to cry for at the time.
I don't need to stare at anything. I have reason to cry, and I'm sick of being brave.
Fred is gone.
Tonks is gone.
Remus is gone.
Even Colin Creevey is gone.
I can't look at Fred's body, I just can't. To see him like that, vulnerable, his wide, blank eyes staring at nothing, unmoving. Gone. It's just too much.
I've always been the one to hold in her tears, never to show weakness, never to cry in public.
That's changed.
Sure, Fred used to tease me, but I was used to it, I grew up with it. Being the only daughter in a family with seven kids usually gets you teased.
No, it's now six kids.
Well, not really kids anymore. But you get it.
I can't imagine what I must look like to everyone else.
Ginny Weasley, the girl with the nasty bat-bogey hex, the blood traitor, Harry Potter's little fangirl, Harry Potter's ex-girlfriend, Ron's little sister, Bill's little sister, Charlie's little sister, Percy's little sister, George's little sister, Fred's little sister. No, not Fred anymore. But you understand. I was never just me, for the first few years of Hogwarts, it was always one of those titles, well, not Harry Potter's ex-girlfriend yet. Still just the little fangirl.
I remember, back in first year, when I wrote Harry that Valentine's poem. Boy, was that a disaster! Fred teased me about it for weeks. There's no more Fred to tease me about it anymore.
Wiping my eyes with my sleeve, I hear someone approaching me.
Ron. I don't think he's ever even seen me cry before, well, not counting me as a baby, but I doubt he remembers that.
Sitting down next to me, he glances at me hesitantly.
I understand. It must be pretty awkward for him, sitting on the floor, in the middle of a room filled with crying or dead people. Next to the sister you've never seen cry, the brave little girl you had become so protective of. But things were different now. They were different and, no matter how much we would try to deny it, they could never go back.
I turn to him, my face streaked with tears. He slowly wraps his arms around me awkwardly and I cry into his shoulder, wishing that things could be different. That there was never a Voldemort. That he wasn't still out there, waiting for Harry.
No one has seen Harry for a while now. For a moment, I wonder if I ever will see him again.
Sobbing harder, Ron starts to gently rub my back, still awkward. How was he to know how to comfort his sister, who had never needed, nor wanted, his help?
Have you ever felt so sad that you felt as though you were about to die? Although, if Voldemort wins this, that might be the case. But that's not the point.
I quickly thought what it would be like if I were the one dead, not Fred. Would anyone care? Quickly as they came, I push those thoughts out of my mind.
I don't know what's going to happen, all I know is that it's going to be different. Forever.