Many thanks to michsisk for beta-ing and making it better and to Drarryiscannon for the beautiful aesthetic prompt!
These lovely characters belong to JKR. Any mistakes are mine.
You said:
Remember that life is
Not meant to be wasted,
We can always be chasing the sun.
So fill up your lungs
And just run.
And always be chasing the sun
All we can do is try
and live like we're still alive
-Sara Bareilles (Chasing the Sun)
The war had been over for more than a month, the dead were buried and the Death Eaters' trials were underway. Life in the wizarding world was slowly going back to normal as shops were re-opening, Hogwarts was being rebuilt, the ministry was licking its wounds and resuming regular business and people were beginning to heal and move on. At least, most people were.
Harry was drowning. His guilt weighed him down like an anchor around his neck. Getting up every day felt strangely like trying to swim with his robes on. He had sat through funerals and testified at trials, done his duty as the Boy Who Lived. Now he walked endless city streets without any real destination in mind and spent countless hours sitting in the decrepit remains of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, staring at the dirty walls, unseeing. Sometimes he smashed things.
Time was passing and all around him things were changing, happiness was slowly filtering back into the emotional rotation. But for Harry, minutes and hours, days and nights all seemed to bleed together as he desperately tried to feel anything besides anger and guilt. Everyone was moving and he stood still, wishing someone would see him.
Even his sweet Ginny had begun to pull away, likely tired of his constant back and forth between extreme apathy and uncontainable rage. He couldn't decide whether he was devastated or relieved if he was honest with himself. She seemed to want and need so much from him that he couldn't give right now. How was he meant to explain that he didn't know how to go on living, when it felt like his sole purpose was fulfilled, when it had been the only goal for such a long time? How could he live when so many of those who had trusted and supported him were nothing more than gaping holes where people should be? So Harry drowned and Ginny drifted away.
Ginny felt like she'd been set adrift in the Black lake in nothing but a bucket. Precariously balanced, she fought not to upset the minuscule foothold she needed to keep her from falling in. The wind raged around her, pushing her in every direction, keeping every shore out of reach. And there, at arm's length in the water, was the man she loved with all her soul. He was drowning and if she tried to save him, she might drown with him.
But what good was her life without him? She had to try. She had reached out to him, endured his anger and suffered his silence. He needed help, but she needed his love. She needed her rock to cling to, the pillar of strength he had always been to carry her through to the other side. She was only starting to realize that rocks sink when they aren't on solid ground, that damaged pillars tend to fall.
She had so many of her own wounds to heal, but somehow they paled in comparison to the thought of losing him when she had waited so long. After everything they had survived, how could they lose to themselves and each other? She refused to give up. Still, something had to change; they couldn't go on this way without shattering what love they had left into irreparably tiny fragments.
"I can't do this anymore, Harry!" she cried. "I can't do this alone!"
Ginny had apparated into his room and stood before him. The tortured look on her beautiful face cut him to his core. The sadness pooling in her eyes threatened to be the wave that finally pulled him under. He sighed, shaking his head and looking down at his feet.
"I can't give you what you need, Gin. I've got nothing left to give," he whispered brokenly.
"Please, let me help you!" she implored, "I don't want anything from you but the will to try."
"Why should I try? It isn't like I even deserve my own forgiveness, much less anyone else's. They're dead! I can't fix this!"
"But you're NOT dead, Harry! However much you might wish otherwise, you're alive and all you can do to honour their sacrifices is try to live! Let me help you!"
Ginny was frantic. She could feel him slipping through her fingers. He hadn't moved, he didn't make a sound as tears soaked his cheeks, dripping off his chin.
"I can't leave you like this. I love you, Harry! I couldn't stop loving you if I wanted to. Nothing in my life makes sense without you. I promise, we can get you help! I'll do anything, but don't give up on us…please love me…"
Her voice had become so quiet that he barely heard her last words. He could sense the desperation in the whispered plea. He still loved her, he couldn't remember how to stop loving her, but he was afraid.
"I'm so broken, Gin. What if love isn't enough?"
Ginny gently cupped his face in her hands. She dipped her face down to look into his eyes.
"All we can do is try," she begged softly.
This time, Harry did not hesitate. He took her hand, his lifeline, and gripped it tightly.
"I love you, Ginny."