Harry stared down at the slumped body before him. Shouts echoed around him, screams and grunts. But Harry couldn't hear them. It was like someone had turned the mute button on, and now all Harry could hear was the pounding of his own heart in his head.
He knelt down on the cold, hard stone floor. Still he could not take his eyes away from what was in front of him, his brain was moving too slowly, he couldn't work out what was happening. Unable to comprehend the immensity of the situation, instead Harry's brain was filled with little, subjective observations.
The bright red hair was spilling across the floor. It mixed with the deep red blood surrounding the body, and Harry couldn't help but wonder why all these years he had said that distinctive Weasley hair was red, when it wasn't red at all. Blood was red, very red, not the hair it stained. He touched that hair, as if to make sure it was real.
How similar the figure in front of him was to his mum, Lily Potter. This is how he would imagine her looking, back when Lily was younger. Yes, Ginny did look awfully like his mother.
Ginny.
Harry had known it ever since he had seen her crumpled stature on the floor, but only now, when he thought her name, did it process.
His eyes bulged in comprehension, and his jaw dropped open.
His heart beat faster, threatening to break out of his chest.
His hands flew to Ginny, taking her by the leg and shoulder and turning her over to face him.
At once he wished he hadn't. Her face was the last thing to move, until her neck forced it to swing around to Harry's side. It turned, and with a small thump, her cheekbone hit the stone in front of Harry.
Her face was the creepiest thing he had ever seen. Not because it was mutilated, or anything of the sort. Her face was fine, but a little dirty. Her eyes were wide, and her mouth hung open and slack. From where he was sitting, it was almost like Ginny was staring at Harry, blankly, blandly, and unseeing. Worse was that she looked almost alive, and at the same time, had the look of the undead, like an inferius.
Harry stared, repulsed and fascinated. He head hung from her neck at a strange angle, one that would have been uncomfortable for anyone still alive.
But that doesn't matter he thought she dead, so is ok.
Harry plucked uselessly at the sleeve of her robes, than lay his hand on her forehead, as if checking her temperature.
It's funny he continued to himself that I'm comparing my dead girlfriend to my dead mum. Strange how it happens that way.
Tears were not forming, to his mild surprise. His eyes were instead drying uncomfortably from not blinking and burning like they were on fire.
Harry pictured himself running around with burning eyeballs, and though it was a very funny picture, did not laugh. Lumps bigger than he thought possible were forming in his throat. It felt as though he was going to choke, but he managed to keep breathing. Or panting rather. He was breathing so heavily his chest was rising and falling several centimetres every couple of seconds.
"No."
Harry realised what he had been thinking earlier. She's dead, that's not ok, It's NOT OK.
"Not ok. Not…ok" he muttered to himself. His palms lay flat on the floor, and he leaned forward, staring at Ginny, his eyes sweeping up and down her still, limp body.
"No, way. No" He rocked back to balance on the balls of his feet, arms swinging beside him.
He turned around. The chamber was empty, the fighting taking place in the corridor beyond. No-one had seen him come in here, no-one knew.
But, Harry had seen Ginny, half an hour ago when he had left the battle under his invisibility cloak. He had crept out with the intention to destroy a horcrux, it had been so important. On the way out he saw Ginny fighting Bellatrix Lestrange, and though he had desperately wanted to help, he didn't couldn't, he didn't have time.
He was silent, pondering this. It didn't seem important anymore. Suddenly, he stood, and strode into the Hall.
"LESTRANGE!" He screamed
Many heads turned, including that of a dark woman with heavy sunken eyes and a snarling expression
"Potter! What a surprise. Didn't expect you to be here, fighting us common people" Her eyes glinted evilly as she walked toward him
"Don't touch the Potter boy" she called to the other Death eaters "He's the dark lords! Of course, however" she turned to Harry "you may need to be incapacitated first, so I can take you to him. But I'll take care of that. Cruc-"
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Harry Bellowed, beating Bellatrix to it. She looked surprised as the curse hit her, then, Harry watched the life flee her body, and she fell to the ground, dead.
The outcry from the other Death Eaters meant Harry was about to get showered in curses, so Harry whipped out his invisibility cloak and disappeared under it, moving quickly back to the room where Ginny was so they wouldn't know where he was. He pushed aside the alarm he felt at himself, promising to think about it some other, less crucial time. The unforgivable curse had just come out without thought, Harry couldn't help himself. He felt a small twinge of guilt, which ebbed away quite quickly when he remembered who was lying dead in the other room.
"Just aim anywhere!" bellowed a huge man, and demonstrated by shooting off a curse some ten feet to the left of Harry. Dodging a couple of lucky shots, Harry sped over to the open door, strode inside and dumped the cloak on the floor. He was livid, still enraged at Bellatrix.
He turned to see Ginny, still lying where he had left her, still staring at him sickeningly. Harry balled his fists to keep from screaming. His arms bulged with clenched muscle and he stood still for long seconds. Finally, the pressure bore down too much and with a dragon-like scream he released his hands and kicked a chair wildly. It hurled to the wall and smashed loudly into splintering pieces.
Harry breathed heavily for a few seconds, trying to master his anger. Then he realised: oh shit, I just gave away my position…
Sure enough, shouts were nearing the door, dangerously close. So, with a burst of speed he snatched up the cloak from the floor, took hold of Ginny and disapparated.
Harry looked around at his new location. He was standing in his study in his London home. He sighed and swallowed hard. From his left hand the invisibility cloak slithered to the ground in a heap. In his other hand was still clutching Ginny's arm, the rest of her lying on the rug Harry was standing on.
He dropped her, taken aback as if having just seen her. Suddenly he didn't want to touch her. She was dead. DEAD. Harry backed away from her. She's a corpse. My girlfriend is a corpse.
His anger now gave way to panic. He backed up till he felt his desk behind him, and gripped it.His wide eyes searched the room, looking for answers. What the hell was he supposed to do? How was the war going to go on, now Ginny was dead? How was anyone's life going to continue, Ginny was dead!
Life suddenly seemed different now she wasn't there. It didn't seem right, like Harry was reading his life as a book, but the pages had become jumbled and he couldn't figure out what was going on anymore.
Now the tears finally came. Harry slid down to sit leaning against the hard wood of his desk, drawing his knees up and resting his head on them. His body shook with suppressed sobs; cross eyed he watched the tears trickle to the end of his nose, then land with a tiny splash on his knees.
There he stayed till he remembered something. He wiped his cheek with the heel of his palm, stood and turned to his desk. The top draw slid open smoothly, and Harry pulled a tightly folded piece of parchment that sat on top of the drawer's contents.
With trembling fingers he opened the note carefully, and read what he had written.
Ginny,
This is something I wrote for you, I hope you like it.
…Well here goes nothing
Ginny.
My first, my last, my everything.
You make life more beautiful.
Because things are brighter when you enter the room
Clouds flee the sky just so the sun can shine on you
And most importantly
You fill me with something I never felt before.
Not love, because words cannot come close to describing it.
But, because there is no other way to say it.
Love will have to do.
I love you.
And even more, I like you.
Light of my existence
The air that keeps me living
The universe is all contained within you
Because you are everything.
You are all there is, and ever will be.
Ginny.
…
…
Sorry if it's rubbish. But it has a message, right?
Love Harry
Harry crumpled the page in his fist and cast it aside bitterly. Pushing himself up with a groan, he stood and walked to the doorway. He lingered there a second, gazing intently at Ginny's body. Then, as though taking orders form an invisible commander, turned abruptly and strode from down the hall.
It was a nice house, the floors boarded with mahogany wood, and the walls boasted many pictures of important witches and wizards, who were now all watching Harry go by with concern. Harry saw from the corner of his eye a weedy old man from a portrait in his study enter one of these pictures, and whisper to it's occupant. The lady he spoke to shrieked quietly and rushed from her frame to inform others.
Harry continued until he reached a handsome door, and turned the shining gold handle. Inside was a large for poster bed, decorated in maroon and cream. Around the walls was a Dresser, two cupboards, two identical bedside tables and a Vanity.
Harry went to the far side of the bed, where the second bedside table stood. It was simple, dark wood with three draws, and sported a reading lamp, tissues and three books piled on top. Harry went to the bottom draw, and pulled it open. He discarded the contents if it on the floor beside him (more books, his wand case, some wand polish and a buffing cloth).
He pulled out his wand from his pocket and lightly drew a circle in the bottom of the draw. In response the wood popped up like a trapdoor, and Harry pulled from the fake bottom a little box.
Harry sat back up on the bed. He studied the little box dejectedly. It was small enough to fit easily in his palm. It was blue leather with gold trim, and rounded edges.
Sighing, Harry used his thumb to flip the box open. Inside, on a bed of white velvet, sat a delicate gold ring, a row of diamonds set into the top. It glinted mockingly at Harry in the golden light that spilled from the window. To him it seemed to smirk at him, its teeth sparkling transparently at him.
Anger coursed through his blood once more. He wrenched the ring from its case and threw it hard against the Dresser, then threw himself from the room. The ring bounced along the shining wood, coming to rest in the centre of the floor. The halls echoed with his screams.
Hermione sat crouched in the master bedroom, wearing a pair of latex gloves. She turned the ring that she had found on the floor between her thumb and forefinger. Though she had never seen the piece of jewellery before, she knew exactly what it was, Harry having described it to her many times. It was sad, she thought, that the beautiful ring would never be used.
A tear slipped from the corner of her eye, which she brushed away determinedly. She can't cry, not now. She was on a crime scene, with the Magical Crime Detection Squad. MCDS. Still, she didn't really believe that he was killed by death eaters. The doors and windows were locked, the house was undisturbed, and it was impossible to apparate into by anyone but its two inhabitants.
He had loved her so much, perhaps it was too much to handle.