Disclaimer: All belongs to JK Rowling. 'Tis not worth suing me, believe me ;)

A/N: My first foray into fanfiction, so of course it rocks. coughcough. ;) Much thanks to Alex for Beta work, and more is coming soon :)

Twilight Fire

'He is burning, burning in the twilight.
He is burning, turning to face us.
He is burning, fire in the twilight.
He is burning, turning to lead us away…'

Wang Chung

There was limp red hair spread out on the white pillow, and a pale check hidden underneath the fiery waterfall. It had been a dream once, the existence they had shared, but now it was only a shadow of a memory, lost but not forgotten, hidden away in the darkest recesses of a broken mind.

Harry looked down at Ginny's face (sleeping peacefully, he told himself. Only sleeping) and felt the bitterness rush back the same way it did every time he saw her. Which was every day, so his life had been reduced to a spiraling vortex of pain and regret, anger and tears. He didn't like it, but it was sad- and true.

"Harry?" a soft voice behind him said. Harry looked over his shoulder at Hermione. She has her hands clasped together, soft lips pressed together in worry, brown eyes huge in a world weary face. Harry shook his head.

"There's no change. There's never any change. Why won't she wake up?" His voice was sad, not angry as it once might have been, and he felt a great weight settle on his shoulders. He felt stooped, old, as if the war has never been won and they were still fighting, fighting every day for their lives and the lives of their loved ones.

Harry stared down at the sleeping Ginny again, spared one glance at Hermione and left the bright, sun-lit room. He clambered down the stairs, through the lounge and out into the mid-afternoon sun, a playful breeze messing up his already disheveled hair. He breathed, long, deep, hard.

The Burrow had not changed. One would think, having survived a life-shattering war and being the new stronghold of the Order, that the place would be at least a little altered, but it hasn't changed a bit and for that Harry was glad. The world could spin off its axis and the heavens crumble, but the Burrow would stay the same, because everyone needs some constant in their lives and this was it for Harry. He would fight for it like he's fought for his life, his sanity, his love and his hope.

But Ginny is lying upstairs, sleeping as if dead, so maybe you didn't fight hard enough… the thought came unbidden, unwanted. Harry shook his head and shoved his hands into his pockets. He had tried telling himself it wasn't his fault, that the curse on Ginny had not been a side-effect of the war, but something deeper, placed on her before it began.

It hadn't worked- he still felt that jolt every time he saw her, and knew it for what it was. He still needed something or someone to blame, in order to make the curse defeatable, so he blamed himself, and spent the rest of his time searching for a cure.

"Harry? Molly's saying lunch is ready, come back in the house," Hermione said from where she was suddenly standing next to him. Harry blinked at her, wondering how he hadn't heard her approach, but she looked at him and smiled and it didn't matter after all, because she was there and it would all be okay.

Strong, capable Hermione, searching through the library every day since Ron had died, since his sister had fallen, searching tirelessly for a solution, a cause, a cure, a redemption. Intelligent, unchanging Hermione, the only one of the Trio who had survived the war, because really Harry had fallen when Ginny had. Harry looked away from her and, hands still shoved in the pockets of his jeans, hunched his shoulder.

"I'm not hungry," he said softly. Hermione sighed.

"You have to eat sometime you know, starving yourself won't help anyone and if you skip one more meal I'm going to start force-feeding you, so help me God!" she said, eyes snapping. Harry smiled, a slow curve of his lips.

"I love it when you get angry. You always look so beautiful," he said. Hermione gaped.

"Harry…what-" she said, unable to continue. Harry bit his lip.

"I'm sorry. It's just that, since Ron died, there's no-one to tell you these little things, and you always look so careworn and beaten…" he said in a small voice. Maybe once, tears would have filled Hermione's eyes at the sentiment, maybe once she would have thrown her arms around Harry and told him he was the best friend in the world, the brother she never had. Now, though, she just looked at him, looked into his glinting, tired green eyes and wondered at the irony.

"Have looked in the mirror lately? Might as well be describing yourself," she said, shaking her head.

"I'm fine," Harry mumbled, shivering in the warm sunlight. Hermione's sudden bark of laughter surprised him and he looked up.

"Harry Potter, you are so far from fine it's not even funny. Don't cite that bullshit to me. You can do it with everyone else, but don't you dare try it on me," she said, glaring at him. Harry gave her a sidelong look, but said nothing in return. Hermione sighed and began walking towards the house.

"Come and have lunch before I have to drag you back in," she called over her shoulder. Harry waited a couple of minutes, then snuck back into the house and spent the rest of the day (and most of the night) on his chair next to Ginny's bed. He dozed, once or twice, but never for long. He kept being woken up by flashes of green light.