Artist: Ray LaMontagne
Song: Hold You In My Arms

Just a random little songfic that came to me on a long car trip home. Enjoy. Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me.

HOLD ON FOREVER

The rain pounded the windows, drumming louder and louder in the dark recesses of the house. The others had left hours ago, left to find you. But I stayed, because if you were alive, I knew you'd come here. Come home.

Voldemort was gone. We knew that much. The Dark Mark over the Burrow exploded into violent, brilliant blue fire before vanishing into the chilly night air. It was the most beautiful sight I had seen in my life. The rain started soon after.

"Ginny," Ron said softly, grabbing my shoulder, "Harry's not back yet."

"He'll be here," I fought indignantly, "he said he'd come home."

"Ginny, you know he might not be-" Ron paused unable to say what he was really thinking.

I didn't answer my brother, he didn't know. You were still alive. I knew it. The others left in search of you. Could be hurt, they said. Unable to get home, they thought. So they left. But I waited, because you were coming home.

When you came to me with your bad dreams and your fears
It was easy to see that you'd been crying
Seems like everywhere you turn catastrophe it reigns
But who really profits from the dying

From the darkness you appeared out of nowhere. Battered and beaten, you stumbled towards the house. You were home. Forgetting shoes or a coat, I ran out into the rain to greet you. To throw my arms around you. To celebrate your victory.

I ran to you, but you didn't smile. You didn't take me up in your arms and kiss me. You were crying. I had never seen you cry.

"He's dead," I pleaded with you. I wanted to rejoice.

"Others are dead, too," you countered. You wanted to wallow. So I let you. Holding you in my arms, you wept. Wept for the dead. Wept for the living. Wept for yourself.

"But at least he's dead," I tried to soothe.

"There's nothing good about killing," you sobbed, "even when it's an enemy.

When you kissed my lips with my mouth so full of questions
It's my worried mind that you quiet
Place your hands on my face
Close my eyes and say
Love is a poor man's food
Don't prophesize

As the crying subsided, you needed warmth. I wanted to ask how. I wanted to ask why. I wanted to ask when. But you needed something greater than words.

As we stood in the rain, the earth around us melting, you kissed me. I couldn't deny you a kiss. I wanted my love to heal you. To make it all better. To make it all go away.

Desperate and hungry, you kissed me. Like a man wandered in from the desert, you drank me in and swallowed my love whole. All you could take and more, all I could give and more.

And the fear left us. The anxiety. The uncertainty. The hopelessness. They all left us in the glorious moment out in the rain.

But when I had given all I could, when you took all I had. The hurt. The anger. The hate. It all came back.

"Can't let it go," you fought. "Never let it go."

So now we see how it is, this fist begets the spear
Weapons of war, symptoms of madness
Don't let your eyes refuse to see, don't let your ears refuse to hear
Or you ain't never going to shake this sense of sadness

"I killed him, because I hated him," you explained. "Not because I thought it was noble. Not because he was evil. But because I hated him. I hated all he took from me. And I wanted him to die."

I didn't know what to say. You would be a hero for you had done. Every man, woman, and child would owe you their lives and their freedom. But you would be ashamed of what you had done. Because you did it for all the wrong reasons.

"You rescued us all," I beseeched, "you saved us from a fate worse than death. Don't let this destroy you. Don't let guilt take away all the good you've done."

"No better than him," you avowed. "So I deserve what I got."

I searched your eyes from some hint of what you meant. But a voice behind me answered my question.

"Ginny," Ron said, his voice solemn and deep, "what are you doing out here?"

"Harry," I said matter-of-factly. Ron thought it was a question.

Behind Ron, Moody stepped out of the darkness into view. He carried something in his arms. Something big. Something heavy. Something dead.

"It was too late, Gin," Ron explained. I finally saw what Moody was carrying.

Your glasses were missing. Your hair messy as ever. Blood, your blood, washed away in the rain, leaving your sickly pale face clean again.

I searched for you behind me. You had just been here. Just kissed me. But nothing was there.

"He's dead," Ron said, dissolving into tears.

Moody set you down in the melting earth. Without question, without hope. I took you in my arms. And vowed never to let you go.

I could hold you in my arms
I could hold on forever
And I could hold you in my arms
I could hold forever