A/N: I feel really sad/depressed right now, so an angsty oneshot is totally in order. It's not a songfic, but I'm listening to Halo, by Beyonce on repeat, so it might be influenced by that. Could turn into more if you want.
DISCLAIMER- J.K Rowling owns Harry Potter. I own the plot.
GINNY POV-
Hurt. Anger. Despair, anguish, hopelessness, lost. Defeated.
The words, and more, that describe my very being right now.
When Harry left to fight Voldemort, during my sixth year, I truly believed that he was my soulmate, and he was going away to save me. To fight for me. And he'd come back, we'd be a happy couple, etc.
But, of course, that's not the way life works.
He kills Voldemort, then disappeared. No one knows where he's gone. There have been search parties for over a year, trying to find the Boy Who Lived, slayer of the Dark Lord.
He's gone.
I remember the day they told me. I'm quietly sitting in the Great Hall, picking at my food. Imagining him. His black hair, sparkling green eyes. The way those gorgeous eyes looked at me before he left. The way they looked at me during the Great Battle. They way I thought they would look at me forever. Full of love, care, happiness, friendship, and just…him.
I hear footsteps approaching. I look up. It's my mother, tears in her eyes, fingers anxiously twisting a handkerchief. "Mum?" I ask, alarmed. "What's wrong?"
She just looked at me. "Oh, Ginny…" she sits next to me, and pulls me into an embrace.
"Mum?" I'm beginning to get seriously worried. If another one of my siblings is hurt or…dead I don't think I'll be able to handle it. "What is it? Is it Ron?" She shakes her head. "Hermione?"
"It's Harry." My stomach clenches. "He disappeared. No one knows where he is."
I stare, uncomprehending. "What?"
"Harry disappeared. Yesterday. After Fred's funeral, he just took off. He didn't even tell Ron and Hermione. They're devastated." She speaks carefully, as if she's afraid I'll fly into a rage.
There is a moment of silence as it sunk in. He's gone, he won't come back. Not for me, for Hermione, Ron, anyone. I don't matter. I snap.
"Gone? What do you mean, GONE? Did he, did he, leave a note? Or, or, why aren't Aurors trying to find him? He's the Boy Who Lived, for God's sake, why is no one looking?" I jump up, pacing, and shrieking. "He left me!" I cried.
Ron and Hermione are sitting in front of us. Hermione looks at me with eyes full of sorrow. "He left all of us."
Suddenly, I can't handle it. I dash away, out the Great Hall, out of Hogwarts, and throw myself down under a birch tree we used to spend time together under. I bury my face in my knees and sob.
The love of my life, the man I love, the man I thought loved me, was gone. He abandoned, for some unknown quest, and never even told me.
For a year after that, I was in a deep depression. I barely ate, dropping to just over 100 pounds. I became pale, still and rarely left bed. Majority of the time I spent awake, I was either crying uncontrollably or staring blankly at the wall opposite my bed. The entire time I'm awake, one thought encircles my head.
He left me.
A/N So. I felt the need. (Yes, it's short, I know. I can't get my feeling into words at the moment). Review, please.
