Author Note: Hello! Quick one-shot about the aftermath of the war. Hope you like it!
May 3, 1998, 2:38 AM
Everything was quiet. So much that Gunny's ears were ringing as she slowly dragged herself up the destroyed staircase on her way to Gryffindor tower. After the incessant screams, spells, and falling stone, the early-morning emptiness seemed eerily silent.
Rubble littered the halls along with bits of tapestries, paintings, and suits of armor. The few paintings left on the wall were devoid of occupants. Patches of dark liquid are splattered everywhere, and Ginny tried not to think about them.
The Great Hall just now was bad enough. All those bodies lying there, so still, most wrapped in extra bedsheets. Her own dear brother among them, his red hair messy, face white, a ghost of a smile on his lips. Percy, eyes wild and desperate, clutching Fred against his chest, calling his name in vain. And beside her brother, more familiar faces, frozen in death.
Colin, white and tiny.
Lavender, horribly mauled.
Professor Lupin and his wife, their hands outstretched as though to grasp one another. What would become of little Teddy now that they were gone?
Jeremy Braithmore from fifth year.
Allene Creswell.
The list went on.
Ginny closed her eyes and tried to block out the feeling that she would wake up and it would be all right, because she knew it wouldn't. Pretending would only delay her pain, not erase it.
"But we won."
Her voice echoed back emptily.
Empty as the ragged hole in her heart. Her tears were gone for now, leaving her eyes sore and her throat dry.
She climbed over a smashed statue and arrived at her destination, too tired to think straight. The fat lady was gone from her portrait, but as Ginny wondered dejectedly what to do next, the portrait hole door swung open automatically.
Inside the common room, everything was normal; so normal, in fact, that it looked out-of-place compared to the rest of the castle. The fire in the grate crackled merrily, unconcerned with the terrible things Hogwarts had seen.
Ginny sighed and turned to climb the stairs to the girls' dormitories. The fire popped loudly behind her. She jumped, catching her breath as a soft whimper echoed the fire.
She spun around, her wand out, nerves on fire once more. "Who's there?"
Nothing. The common room was empty.
Then, another whimper.
She crept across to the fire, heart racing, and peered around the sofa.
"Harry?"
The skinny black-haired teenager lay curled in the middle of the sofa, his robes twisted around his legs, glasses askew, asleep. As Ginny stepped forward, she noticed he was shaking.
He flung out a thin wrist as though to ward off an invisible foe. "Ron, no! Don't do it! Luna, you have to run! He'll catch you!" A tear leaked out of his pinched eyes and slid across his cheekbone.
Ginny knelt in front of him, slipping his wand out of his robes, and wiped the tear away, gently kissing his forehead. "Harry, wake up."
The boy started up, eyes wild, fumbling for his wand. "Stay away!" he rasped. "I won't you hurt them!"
"Harry!" Ginny ducked his flying arm, "Calm down! It's only me, all right? It's Ginny."
He let out a dreadful, shuddering sigh and straightened his glasses, accepting his wand from her outstretched hand. "Merlin, Ginny, you gave me a fright. Here, come and sit." He patted the sofa, and Ginny scrambled up beside him.
"You were having a nightmare, weren't you?"
He rubbed his eyes under his glasses, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hands. "Yeah. I'm sorry for scaring you, Gin."
"You want to tell me about it?"
He shook his head. "Nothing to tell. Just Voldemort again." He laughed bitterly. "Even after he's dead I can't get him out of my head."
"Thank you, Harry." Ginny murmured softly.
"Sorry?" He looked startled.
"Thank you for everything you did to win this war, though you being dead tore me up inside. After all that, no one's going to begrudge you a few nightmares. If the person who defeated Voldemort didn't have nightmares, I'd think they didn't have a heart. But I know you do." She reached out and rested her hand on his jumper, over the spot where she could feel the unsteady beating.
His breath caught. "Ginny, I-" he shook his head, swallowing.
She wrapped her other arm around his neck, pulling his back. "Shh. No more talking tonight, all right? It's over, and we won. We won."
He turned to her, his face crumpling, and pulled her into a desperate embrace.
She found her own tears returning, the raw ache throbbing inside her chest, and she hid her face in his shaking shoulder, her strength gone.
They'd both lost so much.
But for now, they had each other, and that was enough.