Hello. Just keep in mind--this is pretty short. Not to mention, it's my first real fanfiction. I've dabbled in role-play, but have never attempted anything like this. Critique is greatly appreciated. I don't know exactly where this is going, but I plan to update it with my random spurts of inspiration.

we'll see if I can develop a story.

Disclaimer: Harry and Ginny belong to JK Rowling. Not me. 'kay?

Mourning faces—loss, heroic deaths in battle. The images were still clear in his mind. It would have been impossible to forget—the air was still laden heavy with anguish and grief.

But it was over.

The castle was full of those mourning for their loved ones—the wizarding world was standing on the close of a great tragedy. There would be a time when everything was restored; there would be a time when the wizarding world would be fair and just; there would be a time when new History books would be printed. But today was not that day.

Harry had slipped away from the crowds of people—he needed this time alone. He left the families to mourn.

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"Harry Potter—I hate you."

Before he could blink, the famous boy who lived was tackled by a quickly moving bundle of red hair. He could feel the small fists pounding at his chest. "Ginny." He grabbed the younger girl carefully and held her an arms length away from himself.

Confused, he looked down at the fraught girl—tears cut through the grime and blood that covered her face. "Ginny.." he repeated again, at a loss for words. She had stopped struggling now, and was looking lifelessly at the ground, slumped over, still sobbing.

It was one thing to see a girl cry. But to see Ginny Weasley cry was a whole different story. She was a strong girl—independent and free. And she was crying—sobbing to be more precise.

"I th-thought you were dead. You've been go-gone for so long.."

Her words cut at Harry—the desperation that defined her words disturbed him. And then, the tears he'd been holding back fell. Harry's eyes overflowed, not only for Ginny, but for all those who had died. He cried for Dumbledore and Sirius and his parents and Fred, for Lupin and Tonks and Hedwig and Snape—for all who had valiantly lost their lives in the fight.

He and Ginny exchanged no words, but they understood one another perfectly. There was something intimate about exchanging tears; something emotionally endearing that went along with something so personal. The sorrow and grief and anger he had been feeling spilled out, and slowly, and without realizing it, the space between the two was closed.

"I'm sorry, Gin." Harry's voice hardly rose above a whisper and was ragged from crying.

It had been so long since he'd looked at her—really looked at her. Harry ran a hand through her hair, relishing the feeling. It wasn't clean or shiny. Her face was dirty, and her robes were torn. But Harry wouldn't have had it any other way. Perhaps the hardship or maybe their year apart had made her more beautiful.

"Don't leave me again."

Without waiting for a response, Ginny's arms were around Harry. She sobbed into his chest--she was tired of being strong. In all the time he'd been away, she hadn't allowed herself to cry. It would have wrecked her confidence and strength. Or so she had always thought.

Slowly Harry arms responded and pulled her in close, arms wrapped tight. "I won't leave again."