Disclaimer: I'm just borrowing JK Rowling's characters to make them suffer. She's okay with it, though.
ONE DAY
Harry threw his books down at the common room table. "What does he think he's doing! Who does he think he is?"
Hermione and Ron exchanged an uneasy glance. Hermione mouthed, I can't do anything here, it's up to you, and trudged up to the girls' dormitory. Ron nearly whimpered at the prospect of single-handedly calming Harry, but tried halfheartedly, "Look… Harry, Dumbledore knows what he's doing, he's just helping, you-"
"WELL MAYBE I DON'T WANT HIS HELP!" Harry heaved with anger, his chest rising and falling in an unsteady rhythm. Suddenly, he seemed to remember where he was and just how late at night it was. Still not satisfied, however, he whispered, "Maybe I don't need his help."
Ginny, who had woken from the commotion and come downstairs, said softly, "He's not giving it to you because you need it. It's his way of-"
"His way of what? Saying I love you?" Harry put on a horrible flashy false grin. "Yes, Harry, I love you, and that's why I'm taking your life and soul away."
Ron decided to wake Harry up through other, more forceful means. The redhead put his hands on Harry's shoulders. When he attempted to shrug them off, Ron tightened his hold and began to shake Harry's body rigorously.
"What do you think you're doing Harry- you think you're the one in the most pain- everyone else is half dead trying to help you along- do you take joy in watching everyone suffer, worrying about you all day all night nonstop?- or is it that you're used to it by now and you don't see how Hermione's lost at least fifteen pounds because you, how McGonagall's always peeking at the Gryffindor table, how Neville looks up with fear in his eyes every day when the owl post arrives, how Ginny cries herself to sleep every other night- I bet you don't even see what's in front of you every day, either- I bet you didn't even see the duck you transfigured yesterday, I bet you didn't see the plant you were Charming this morning, I bet-"
"Ron, stop it!" Ginny cried. Harry was sobbing desperately by now.
Ron let go, but didn't give up. Gripping Harry's chin tightly in his hand, he drew Harry's face near his own and said softly but venomously, "I bet the only face you see now is Voldemort's. I bet the only thing in your heart is Voldemort, and not Ginny." Not even flinching from the name he had so scathingly spat out, Ron left.
When Harry's tears had finally reduced themselves to a few random hiccups and a shudder here and there, Ginny escorted him up to the boys' dormitory. Seeing how he was no longer on the verge of hysteria, she said quietly, "Don't mind what Ron said. He's just crazy." She tucked Harry's blankets around him. "It's going to be okay. One day, you'll laugh like you've never laughed before." She turned to leave.
Harry just managed to croak, "Wait." She turned back around, and for the first time in months, he noticed the dulled shade of her hair and the gauntness in her cheeks. "Yes?"
"Is- is it true? What R-Ron said? About you, and crying? Every other night…" he stuttered.
She smiled, and it was that that completely snapped Harry out of it. What used to be a sunny, cheerful grin was now a sorrowful, apologetic, nearly wistful smile. "Of course not. Don't worry."
She left, returned to her own dormitory, and cried herself to sleep.
Five Years Later-
Harry stood before the Burrow- or rather, what used to be the Burrow. The house was completely blown up within the first five minutes of war. Now, however, it was a tidy two-story house. The residence had been given to the Weasleys as a reward for their services in the war. The Ministry had wanted to reward them with a huge mansion, but Mrs. Weasley had declined, saying that the family would be better off living closely knit together as they had all their life.
After a moment of contemplation, he quietly stepped towards the back of the house. He was about to enter the back screen door when something pale peeking out from the other side of the house caught his eye. It was a striking contrast amidst the bright greens, the vivid reds, and the lively yellows that completed the usual scenery. He went to investigate.
As Harry turned the corner, he saw that it was a tombstone. He tripped over an offensive weed when he saw the elegant lettering on top: Ginevra Weasley.
He could see the sky from his current position. It was blue. Why was it blue? He turned to look at the grassy ground. Why the hell was it green? He felt an uncomfortable tension building up in his stomach.
One day, you'll laugh like you never laughed before.
And he laughed and laughed and laughed, until his tears drowned him and his sorrow suffocated him and his desperation choked him and hysteria destroyed him.
AN: For everyone who doesn't understand the ending (and I'm guessing that's everyone who read it), Harry died of grief after discovering Ginny's tombstone. Ginny could have either stayed a close friend or, for Harry/Ginny shippers, they could have been in another kind of relationship- that's up to you . Please review! AND FOR THOSE OF YOU WHO KNOW MY NAME, DON'T WRITE IT IN YOUR REVIEW! I had to delete and republish my first story because someone reviewed and wrote my name.
Speaking of my other story, please read and review that one, too! It's called Delights.