Author: Lilly

Title: Together for Just a Moment

Pairing: Harry/Ginny

Summary: As Harry struggles to find any solid ground in a post-war world, he drags himself to the edge, and it'll take certain redhead to bring him back.

A/N: (SPOILERS FOR DEATHLY HALLOWS) My first HP story, as promised. I haven't ever published anything HP, but I'm hoping this one is some good! The rating is mainly for the theme, but it doesn't get too bad. Please R/R!

Together for Just a Moment

Harry gazed out the window from his dormitory window. The rain pelted against the window, and he stared, transfixed, across the horizon. The wand in his hand was slipping from his grip. His Dark Magic textbook had fallen from his lap and landed in a heap on the floor. He was leaned against his bedpost, his silent tears streaked down his face.

Two weeks and three days. It had been two weeks and three days since Voldemort was killed, since the wizarding world was finally relieved of the Dark Lord who had cast fear over it for so long. Downstairs, a feast was scheduled in the Great Hall, and the school was gathered to celebrate the lives of those lost in the final battle, and the victory against evil that had been waged ever since Harry was an innocent, unmarked and uninvolved baby. He signed heavily. His friends were down there, laughing and smiling and enjoying the company of one another. They were celebrating freedom, and the lack of fear, the disappearance of the feeling of uneasiness that had haunted all of them for so long. And here he was, The Boy Who Lived, the one they had fought for, contemplating suicide.

It would have been easy to give him up to the Dark Lord, and spare hundreds of lives, spare the pain and suffering. But for one child, for one soul, they had battled on for hours, finally commencing when the lord was brought down. And for sixteen years previous, they had fought, too, hundreds had died so he could live. To thank them, he was about to take his own life, something that, if done years previous, could have saved many people from death, a death they had accepted and met for him. Again, a silent tear trickled down his cheek. Even though all he wanted was company of his friends, he knew they could never understand. They both had loving families back home, people to fall back on. They never worried about what they would do when school ended, but he did. Because his seventh year, a year he had spent mostly on the run, was about to end, he knew that he would need to figure out his life afterwards. He had missed most of his last year at the place that had given him a reason to live, and now, he was justifying leaving as a reason to die.

Harry had been thinking about it a lot recently. He knew that he had friends in high places, that he would have no problem finding a place to stay. He was worried about what he was going to do with the rest of his life once he left Hogwarts.

For Harry, Hogwarts had started as an escape, from the Dursley's and the Muggle world. He left behind his old life of neglect and hatred for a new one with a glorious prophecy that awaited him. Here he had went from a nobody, from the punching bag of the neighborhood to a boy who held with him a treasure, a title that carried with it hope for the future. He entered the world of the wizardry, where he learned in seven years how to be a fighter, how to survive and save the world that had taken him in. He made new friends, who filled his world with joy and made every day worth getting up for. He met inspirational professors who taught him the skills they knew to better prepare him for the future- though he wasn't sure he knew what that future would be- and educate him in the aspect of wizardy. And he had played Quidditch, a sport he had immediately fell in love with, for when the escape from his old life wasn't enough, and all he needed was a rush, something to provide a utopia for him to get away to when he needed to forget the world around him. For at least a while, he could fly, he overcame all laws of human nature and soared high in the sky, the wind in his face, where for just a little while, he was untouchable.

His eyes settled down on his trunk. Inside were his Quidditch team robes, which he hadn't taken out in ages. He hadn't gotten a chance to play this year, since he'd been on the run for the past six months. He ached to put them on, to feel powerful again, to know that he wore the colors of a tough, undefeatable force, the Gryffindor team. They were his friends and teammates, the people who motivated him during the game, when everything mattered. And now that his life had taken this turn towards a post-war world, he felt that he needed that motivation, that support more than ever.

Even though he had always feared for his life, he had always had to worry about Voldemort and Death Eaters and what kind of crazy turns his life would take next, he felt as if he always had support, from his friends, from Ron and Hermionie, and from Dumbledore. The combination of the loss of Dumbledore, and his friend's lack of understanding, left him feeling utterly alone and empty.

He knew that his friends tried. They really did. But of course, they weren't in the place he was- he was spirally down a path of self-destruction, where he thought too much about the past and future, and not enough about the present. He worried about what had really happened to Voldemort- about what he could have done to avoid the many deaths that had devastated the ones he loved, about his army and what was still left of it, and about the choices he had made and whether or not they were the right ones. And he worried about the future- about what he'd make of himself, how he'd find any sort of solid ground without day to day classes, without the structure that had begun to define his life. School had been a dream to him, where every day he was surrounded with people he loved and who loved him. To be taken away from that would be too much for him.

Ron and Hermionie didn't get it, they really didn't. Both of them had a future ahead of them- Hermionie had the brains to do whatever she wanted in life, and already had the Ministry after her about a job, and Ron had nailed a spot on a Quidditch team, and would soon be attending weekly practices and have stadiums calling out 'Weasley is Our King' as he played. They had family, they had others who were in their place and understood. No one was like Harry, no one was going through what he was going through, and no one felt for him like Ron and Hermionie's families felt for them, no matter how much they said they did. He had no one, especially since Dumbledore was gone.

Even her, the girl he thought about constantly. She was the quiet, sweet, witty girl who looked into your eyes like you were the only person there was to look at. He thought about her all the time, even when he was falling asleep, he dreamed of her right next to him. He knew she was downstairs as well, mourning her lost brother. He continued to stare out the window. She was everything to him. She had a way of saying nothing, and yet saying everything.

He was crying again, the front of his shirt dampened by his tears, and his nose running. He leaned his head back and ran his hand through his hair. He wondered what people would say if he was found in his room, dead. How he had always been depressed, that he was shaken up from the war, that they should have seen the signs, how sad it was that he was gone. He almost wished for this, for some sort of pity in the place of true understanding and support.

He brought the tip of his wand to his head, shakily, and glanced down at his book. He closed his eyes, the words on the tip of his tongue, death so close he could almost feel it.

"Hey Harry, are you in here?"

Harry dropped his wand, and closed the book, sliding it under his bed. He straightened his glasses, glancing back to see her coming up the stairs. "I know I'm not supposed to be up here, but everyone's worried about you, and well… Ron didn't want to leave the dinner table."

He stood up, with great effort- he had been sitting for so long- and met her at the edge of the dorm rooms.

"Ginny," he managed.

"You've been crying," she said. More of a statement than a question, he noticed. She raised her hand and wiped a single tear from his cheek. He nodded.

"I needed to get away from it all."

She traced her finger down his jaw-line, stroking his chin.

"Looks like you still do."

He nodded, and she let her hand fall back to her side.

"Yeah."

Taking the lead, Ginny grabbed his hand and led him down the stairs and into the hallways. Harry didn't say anything, but let her take the wheel, and he only followed. They walked in silence, but Ginny seemed to know where she was going, as if she had planned this out beforehand. Only after they came out onto the Quidditch practice pitch, the rain pelting down on them, did he speak.

"Ginny, we're gonna freeze out here." He shivered, the rain soaking him from head to toe. She rummaged in the brooms shed, digging out two brooms. She came up to him and slipped his robes off so that he stood there in wet trousers and a t-shirt that stuck to his skin like glue. She had already pulled her own robes off, tossing them to the ground.

"Harry Potter," she said, mounting her broom, "it's your last few weeks here. Live a little, you deserve it." She took off, smiling her cute little smile that only Ginny could smile.

He mounted his broom as well, and took off behind her. For some reason, he felt compelled to follow her off the pitch and out into the open air, where it was just him, the world around him, and Ginny, a few feet up ahead. He soared across the skies, matching her on every down stroke and every turn, feeling the wind rip through his hair and the world stop for him. For that moment, he was untouchable, and the world revolved around him.

Ginny landed in a small clearing, where she dismounted, Harry close behind. She sat under a tree, and beckoned for him to sit next to her. They watched the rain pooling outside the clearing, the lights in the castle, the birds that swooped down over the lake, and each other occasionally, how neither could seem to find the right words to say. She finally broke the silence.

"Hey, Harry."

"Yeah."

"I'm glad you didn't."

"What?"

"Kill yourself off."

He stared at the ground sheepishly. "I thought about it, Gin. I almost did it."

She was silent, picking at the wet grass. He spoke again. "I'm worried, I don't know what I'm going to do with myself once I leave here. I feel like this is all I have. And… after all this, I feel so alone, y'know?"

She was silent for a moment. Then she reached out and took his hands.

"Harry Potter, you don't have to worry about it. The future, or whatever. Live in the moment, live for now. Now, you should be happy, because the war is over, and we've won, and inside that hall are a bunch of people who care about you."

He nodded at her. "I know…"

"And you're not alone, Harry."

He looked up at her, at her soft face. Her hair was plastered onto her face from the rain, her clothes soaked through. She was beautiful, she was. Harry knew that he liked her, knew that he might even love her. At a time like this, that seemed so irrelevant to his life, though.

"I'm here for you."

He leaned over to where she sat, tilted her chin up, and kissed her. A light, soft kiss, that left her gazing into his eyes and wishing for more. They both were silent for a moment.

"I know," he finally said.

They kissed again, this time more deeply. Ginny snaked her hands under his wet t-shirt and pushed them up onto his warm, soft back. His hands found her face, his fingers tangled in her hair and his lips were on hers, her tongue locked with his and their chests pressed together, their hearts beating as one. Finally they broke the kiss, and stared into each other's eyes.

"I know."

They both took their brooms and took off again, flying back to the castle. The world stopped for them, and for a few seconds, it was just Harry and Ginny, captured in a moment together, where life became simple, what lay ahead of them didn't seem to matter, and nothing could tear them apart.