It's a funny thing
War. They say there's a hard life for every silver spoon but during war time, there can't be. The only silver spoons in times of war are those who don't know about it. In this case, the biggest war in the wizarding world, the deadliest battle in the history of witch craft. Ginny shuddered out a breath and dropped her head down onto her arm which was laid across her drawn up knees. She looked back down at the body beside her. No one had found them yet. All around the clearing was scorched, trees half turned to charcoal but Harry's body was completely clean. His cuts and scars cleared of blood and not a spec of ash on his face. Her fingers were still gripping onto the front of Harry's t-shirt, where his heart should be beating, slowly uncurled and slid back up to his face. Her dirty, bloody fingers marred his lips and cheeks as she stroked them against his pale skin.
Another scream of sheer desperation wrenched from her throat before she even realised it was there. The burnt, charred bodies of death eaters were strewn around them and directly in front was a skeleton still clutching a wand identical and yet so different to Harry's own. She drew in another shuddering breath between her teeth and it made her chest rattle horribly. Her eyes once again searched his face, his open, unseeing emerald eyes. It was odd to her that they seemed as bright as ever. It reminded her of how he used to freeze if he heard someone sneaking behind him, how he used to stare straight ahead and stop breathing just to listen.
He was still warm, oddly cool but warm. Her eyes closed and she let out a keening sound that was barely even human. It wasn't a physical pain, more like a reeling in her mind of all the things she'd lost. It was like she'd been slapped and her brain still hadn't worked out why her face stung, but it never ended. She just couldn't comprehend that the worst had actually come true. The moment he'd stepped into the Room of Requirement earlier that day and told them all that there was going to be a battle she forced herself to only think of situations where they both came out alive. She'd envisioned running to him once silence fell over Hogwarts. She'd vividly imagined the feel of her arms around his neck, she imagined the smell of leather, broom polish and pumpkin pie as she buried her nose into his clothes, she'd imagined feeling his arms around her back, pressing her tightly to him and the feeling of his head bowed into the side of her neck, like he used to.
Her eyes scanned the clearing, still shrieking out unintelligibly. She didn't know what to; she had no idea of her own actions and couldn't understand if this was truly real. She curled up beside his body, her hand pulling his to her chest and rocking back and fore in a foetal position. Her wet sobs had changed to hoarse rattling and desperate sucking in of air. Voices shouted and she could hear people running through the woods but she didn't care whichever side they were from. She couldn't even understand what they were saying, they were shouting though. A shrill scream and a loud curse and suddenly Ron and Hermione were on Harry's other side. Ginny didn't let go of Harry's hand, even as Hermione screamed and pulled his chest to hers, crying even harder when he didn't respond. Ron's hands clasped Harry's cheeks, staring into his eyes for a long moment before crawling away suddenly muttering under his breath. Ginny didn't bother to try and understand what anyone said, even as hands tried to pull her away, she just hit them away violently and maintained her place beside her ex-boyfriends body.
Two days later and Ginny's mother, tears streaming down her face bustled out of Ginny's room at the burrow. Ginny watched her go with glassy eyes, looked down at the plain black dress her mother had dressed her in, she played with the lace for a moment and then looked to the coffin on the lawn outside where all sorts of officials, journalists and politicians who never met harry in their lives were making great speeches about his bravery and the chance he gave them by giving his life. She felt the bile rising in her throat again for the hundredth time today. They all spoke of his courage, his intelligence and his sacrifice. His sacrifice. That was all Harry Potter was to them. She threw up again, not being able to see it coming; she ran her hand through her hair, pushing her fringe off her face as she tried to wipe her mouth. She closed her eyes and lay back on her bed. Forever more, Harry, the boy she loved, her first, her best friend, the only person she'd tell anything about herself, her saviour, would forever be some historical figure in a dusty old book that people would read about say 'oh what a brave chap' and carry on laughing with friends. They may have remembrance days but in just a few decades no one would know who he was. Nor his parents. Life for the Potters was one long sacrifice. James Potter's parents died fighting against anti-muggleborn political movements. James and Lily Potter died to save their son and Harry died to save the muggles from wizards. Muggles who made his life miserable from the age of one.
Ginny heard her mother coming back upstairs. She took her wand from her bedside table along with a photo of her and Harry from Bill and Fleur's wedding. She cast a locking charm on the door quickly and then turned her wand to her chest just as Molly rattled the door handle from outside. "Avada Kadavra."