My first HarryxGinny oneshot! Yay! This story is based on a Chinese story I read in my Chinese textbook. I thought it was very sweet, so I decided to turn it into a fanfic, and since Draco's personality doesn't fit the young artist in this story, I decided to use Harry and Ginny instead...

Please R&R!

Disclaimer: Haha, you guys are funny...

--Moon

Hermione tapped her foot impatiently outside of the small, shabby apartment she shared with Ginny. She peered into the room worriedly every once in a while, but when no one came out, she sighed, ducked her head back out and coninued waiting impatiently.

It was winter. Ginny had recently caught lung disease, an evolvement of a small cold. Whenever she lay down, she couldn't breathe without pain. Her once-bright hazel eyes were now dull, her full lips had become parched and thin, and her cheeks, which had been a healthy shade of pink and full, were now abnormally pale. Her chest heaved with every attempt to breathe without suffering. She could barely talk, even.

The doctor had just come to give her a check-up. Hermione was waiting outside so as to give the doctor some privacy.

When the doctor came out, Hermione rushed to his side, babbling nervously. "Will she be all right? Is she going to live? When will she get better? Oh, doctor, tell me how she is!" She cried in one breath.

The doctor looked away before turning back to her. "She has a very slim chance of surviving," the doctor said in a low voice. "This is the worst case of lung disease I have ever seen. It now depends fully on her will to survive whether she will live or not, as medicine is now no use to her." The doctor swept away without a word.

Hermione leaned heavily against the stone wall of the shabby house. Her eyes filled with tears, and as they rolled down her porcelain cheeks, she didn't bother to staunch the flow. She slid down to the ground in a crouching position, her back still leaning against the wall, and began to sob silently into her knees.

When she finally stopped, Hermione stood up slowly and pushed open the door. As she walked in, she looked up to find her friend on the bed, propped up by pillows. When Ginny saw Hermione enter, she smiled weakly. Hermione tried to smile back, but when she failed miserably, she turned away and stared at the small, unlit lamp on the bedside table. An awkward silence ensued.

Finally, Hermione heard Ginny muttering something under her breath. "10...9..8...7...6..." she murmured as she stared out the window. Curious, Hermione followed her gaze. Out of the window was a small yard surrounded by a cement wall. Climbing over the walls were evergreen vines. Five lone leaves, which had survived the harsh winter winds and storms, swayed lightly to the rythm of the strong breeze.

"Is something wrong?" Hermione askd uncertainly, perching on the edge of her friend's bed. Ginny's dull eyes flicked over to where Hermione sat. "Those leaves," she said hoarsely. "Thos evergreen leaves; when the last one falls, I will die along with it," she sighed dramatically.

Hermione sucked in her cheeks. "Don't be silly!" She exclaimed. "And besides, the doctor said that you will get better soon." Ginny stared wordlessly at Hermione before her gaze returned to the window.

Later, the door knocked again. Hermione looked up, confused. The doctor? Again? Surely not... She stood up and opened the door. On the mat stood Harry Potter, the young artist from two floors beneath the floor of Hermione and Ginny's apartment. In his fingers nestled a single red rose. "Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, smiling. "How nice to see you!" Harry bowed slightly, smiling back. "Well met again, Hermione," he said pleasantly. "Could I see Ginny? I heard she is very sick and I decided to come up and visit her." Hermione stepped aside and let Harry in.

Ginny looked up, surprised. "Harry?" she said hoarsely. Harry smiled and sat down beside her in a small chair. Hermione stepped outside of the room to give the two some privacy.

"How are you?" Harry asked. Ginny was about to answer "Fine", but she hesitated, then grinned. "Couldn't be better," she said sarcastically. Harry grinned. He gently placed the rose in his hand on Ginny's chest. With some difficulty, she picked it up and held it to her nose, inhaling deeply and sighing. "This is so sweet of you, Harry," she said. "Thank you." Harry said nothing.

Ginny's gaze drifted to the leaves on the wall, and drew in a gasp. "Four..." she murmured, and closed her eyes.

Harry glanced out the window in alarm. "Is something wrong?" He asked. Ginny looked back at him with haunted hazel eyes. "There are only four leaves left," she whispered hoarsely. "When the last leaf on that vine falls, my life will be going with it," . Harry scoffed. "Who told you such a thing?" he asked. "No one," Ginny said. She coughed slightly before continuing. "I just have this feeling..." Harry gazed out at the leaves, frowning slightly.

Finally, he pulled out of his trance. "Well, nice to see you," he said, smiling gently. He stood up. Looking back, he hesitated, then pushed a strand of red hair behind Ginny's ear before smilng one last time and turning for the door.

That night, the wind blew ruthlessly and rain pelted down on the roof like stones in water. Ginny lay awake the whole night. She couldn't see the leaves through the rain, but she knew that they would all fall sooner or later. Closing her eyes and sighing a long sigh, she forced herself to close her eyes and fell into a fitful sleep.

The next day, on Ginny's request, Hermione opened the window and peeked ouside. Only one leaf was left. Ginny sucked in her cheeks. "A leaf is standing up for my life," she whispered, smiling. "How sweet." Hermione detected no tinge of sarcasm in her voice then.

Many days later, through much rain and wind, the leaf remained exactly where it was on the vine. From it did Ginny receive the will and hope to survive. Soon, Ginny was completely well again; well enough to lay down without wheezing in pain. She sat up, her red hair mussed, her hazel eyes bright again, and gazed out at the leaf, still hanging stubbornly to the vine. She smiled slightly.

Just then, Hermione burst in. She looked close to tears. "Ginny!" She cried. Ginny looked up, startled. "Hermione?" she asked, slightly worried at the note of hysteria in her friend's voice. "Is something wrong?" Hermione flopped down onto the edge of the bed, panting. Between deep breaths, she told Ginny the story.

"Harry died of lung disease," she panted.

"What?!" Ginny's eyes widened. "You're kidding me."

"No," Hermione shook her head frantically. "Ron told me this morning." Ron was Harry's closest friend and Ginny's brother. "You know that leaf on the vine?" Hermione gestured to the leaf still hanging to the vine. "All the other leaves were blown away, but this one stayed on, no matter now much rain pelted it and how hard the wind blew on it. Don't you think that it's a bit strange?" Ginny looked away, biting her lip thoughtfully. She was still shocked at the sudden death of Harry. She nodded. Hermione continued. "That leaf isn't a real one."

Ginny's hazel eyes widened. "W-What do you mean?" A knot was tying itself into her stomach; tying itself, and not letting itself be undone.

"Two nights ago, the real leaf fell. That night was the night of the hardest rain and wind predicted, but Harry insisted that he go out and paint a leaf in its place. He did it under an umbrella, and stayed there all night with the umbrella over the painting so that it wouldn't get wet and wash off. That day, he got a severe cold, which turned into long disease. He died last night."

Ginny felt her limbs turn to jello, her bones to liquid. She fell back and stared emptily at the cieling. She couldn't cry; her throat was too tight, her mouth too dry. Harry? Dead? Because of her?

No.

No, it couldn't be.

Ginny sprang up and ran for the door. Hermione looked up, alarmed. "G-Ginny?" she called after her friend, but Ginny continued to pelt down the long, dirty hallway for the elevator to the main door.

When she got the the door, she threw it open and ran outside for the remaining leaf. The only way to prove to herself that Harry was not dead was to find out whether the leaf really was a painting or not. She said a prayer with every pounding heartbeat as she ran.

When she got to the leaf, she hesitated. It looked a bit flat... shaking her head, she plunged her hand to the leaf.

It was solid cement.

Green solid cement.

A painting.

That meant...

With a gasp, Ginny's legs gave way under her, and she went crashing to the ground. She couldn't breathe. Had the lung disease come back? She didn't care. If it did, she deserved it. She deserved to die. She clutched her chest, her face buried into her knees, the realization sinking in. Tears flowed freely in little rivulets down her cheeks from her hazel eyes.

Never again.

Never again would she see Harry. Never again would she see his smile, his messy hair, his comforting green eyes. Never would she feel his arms around her comfortingly. Never would she hear his soothing voice, smell his familiar scent.

Never again.

She looked up at the corner which she had turned around from the main door through blurry eyes, half-expecting Harry to round the corner and run for her, collect her into his arms, reassure her that he was very much alive.

But no one came.

Letting out a small, choked sob, she buried her face into her knees, still clutching at her wildly-pounding heart, crouching under the green-painted leaf.

o.o.o.o.o.o.o

The funeral was the next day.

Ginny was numb all over as she dressed into a black dress and shoes. She was silent all the way to the church, and no matter how much she wanted to cry, she couldn't. As she shook hands with Harry's parents, she found her throat tight, her mouth dry, her eyes empty of moisture. In the pocket of her jacket was the red rose Harry had given her.

As she walked to his coffin, she glared momentarily at the coffin lid- which was preventing her from seeing his face one last time- and layed the rose gently down on the lid.

And suddenly, the tears came.

A tear drop rolled down her cheek, down to her chin, and dripped off, landing squarely on a rose petal. Suddenly, everything went blurry. She felt her legs buckle, and leaned heavily against the black coffin. She closed her eyes. She could dimly hear voice calling to her; Hermione's voice, Ron's voice.

She opened her eyes halfway, and thought she could see- for a fleeting moment- Harry, floating over his coffin, ghost-like and pearly-white. Her eyes widened. There he was again. He was smiling; he was extending a hand to her. She tried to reach her hand out to him but found that she couldn't move. Suddenly, she couldn't breathe. She gagged. Harry's eyes reflected pure concern as he drifted closer to her. She looked up at him through half-closed eyes.

Suddenly, the suffering stopped. Ginny felt the ground leave from the tips of her toes. She was floating. She felt lighter and happier than she had for a long time. Bliss overcame her emotions, and she closed her eyes. Just then, someone closed their arms around her slim waist. It was Harry. He was smiling. Ginny smiled back. She glanced back one last time- to where people were crouching over something that looked strangely like her body- and then turned back to Harry, smiling.

The two young adults drifted up and up, both in each other's arms, their foreheads touching.

Suddenly, something hard and fast fell through Ginny.

She extended a hand out into the air, the other on Harry's shoulder.

There it was again.

Then more came falling down, beating on the earth, like tears from heaven.

Ginny smiled to herself as she and the boy of her dreams floated up and up.

It was raining...

The sky was crying. Why? Ginny was perfectly happy, and was Harry. But then it occured to Ginny and a tumble of thoughts; no one else on earth was happy, to be missing to people on the same day and night. But Ginny didn't care. She turned back to Harry, wrapping both arms around his neck and pressing her forehead lightly to his forehead and closed her hazel eyes.

Up and up, towards the clouds.

It was raining...

A/N: How was it? Plz review!

--Moon