"Ginny?"
She looked up at her mother's face. Molly Weasley had poked her head through the door and had a very somber look on her face.
"It's time," she said, holding back tears.
Ginny nodded determinedly and carefully stood up. She was wearing the black shoes her grandmother had left her, and as she stood up, felt as if she was about to lose her balance. The young woman kept her composure, however, and reached down to smooth the wrinkles out of her mother's old black dress. Everyone had insisted that she purchase a new one for the funeral, but Ginny had her mind set on this one.
The youngest Weasley walked slowly out of the room, eyes looking straight ahead. Her mother followed, kerchief in hand.
Ginny's fingers started to unconsciously toy with the single charm on her silver bracelet. It was a miniature ballerina, and her most prized possession.
She walked down the stairs and in to the room adjacent to the entryway.
There was a small group of people who were there already, mostly family and close friends. Ginny could see Ron sitting in the corner, with a face of stone. Hermione had her head bent and her eyes were shut tightly.
Ginny walked to the front of the room, and stood behind a beautifully carved wooden podium. She looked out at the small crowd, and spotted Albus Dumbledore standing in the back.
Her eyes threatened to water as she looked away from the old headmaster. She blinked profusely and then began to speak.
"I wasn't going to come today," she began.
The entire room turned their sorrowful faces to look at the new widow.
"I guess I couldn't accept it. I still don't. He was there for me, my entire life. Someone to talk to. He comforted me when things got rough. He understood me. This man was my best friend in the entire world."
She paused to take a steadying breath.
"He was so kind. He never thought of himself, and he only wanted to ensure everyone else's happiness. So unselfish. He was so upset that so many people suffered, and all in his name. He risked his own life to save those he hated."
Ginny held back a small sob and then continued.
"I guess I'm just waiting for him to come back. Just walk through the front door and brighten up my day. He always knew exactly what to say in order to cheer me up. He wanted me to succeed. He wanted me to be happy. You know, he always had these funny little inspirational quotes he would recite to me?"
Dumbledore gave her an encouraging smile, and she kept talking.
"Anyways," she said, shaking her head to dispel the tears, "He said to me 'Ginny, to love and to be loved is to feel the sun from both sides. If I die, I want you to move on and love someone else, just so they can have this wonderful feeling.' And d'you know what I told him?" she asked in an angry tone.
The room looked at her with great attention.
"I told him to shut it."
Ginny said her last sentence as if it was some kind of sick joke. Tears were forming in the corner of her eyes, and the pressure of holding them in was just too much.
"Well, baby, I'm not going to love anybody else," she said, looking sorrowfully at the coffin to the side of the room, just under the window, "But I want you to know, Harry, that I know exactly what you meant. And now that you're gone, there isn't any sun anymore. And I don't like the feeling of night."
She looked up at her mother's face. Molly Weasley had poked her head through the door and had a very somber look on her face.
"It's time," she said, holding back tears.
Ginny nodded determinedly and carefully stood up. She was wearing the black shoes her grandmother had left her, and as she stood up, felt as if she was about to lose her balance. The young woman kept her composure, however, and reached down to smooth the wrinkles out of her mother's old black dress. Everyone had insisted that she purchase a new one for the funeral, but Ginny had her mind set on this one.
The youngest Weasley walked slowly out of the room, eyes looking straight ahead. Her mother followed, kerchief in hand.
Ginny's fingers started to unconsciously toy with the single charm on her silver bracelet. It was a miniature ballerina, and her most prized possession.
She walked down the stairs and in to the room adjacent to the entryway.
There was a small group of people who were there already, mostly family and close friends. Ginny could see Ron sitting in the corner, with a face of stone. Hermione had her head bent and her eyes were shut tightly.
Ginny walked to the front of the room, and stood behind a beautifully carved wooden podium. She looked out at the small crowd, and spotted Albus Dumbledore standing in the back.
Her eyes threatened to water as she looked away from the old headmaster. She blinked profusely and then began to speak.
"I wasn't going to come today," she began.
The entire room turned their sorrowful faces to look at the new widow.
"I guess I couldn't accept it. I still don't. He was there for me, my entire life. Someone to talk to. He comforted me when things got rough. He understood me. This man was my best friend in the entire world."
She paused to take a steadying breath.
"He was so kind. He never thought of himself, and he only wanted to ensure everyone else's happiness. So unselfish. He was so upset that so many people suffered, and all in his name. He risked his own life to save those he hated."
Ginny held back a small sob and then continued.
"I guess I'm just waiting for him to come back. Just walk through the front door and brighten up my day. He always knew exactly what to say in order to cheer me up. He wanted me to succeed. He wanted me to be happy. You know, he always had these funny little inspirational quotes he would recite to me?"
Dumbledore gave her an encouraging smile, and she kept talking.
"Anyways," she said, shaking her head to dispel the tears, "He said to me 'Ginny, to love and to be loved is to feel the sun from both sides. If I die, I want you to move on and love someone else, just so they can have this wonderful feeling.' And d'you know what I told him?" she asked in an angry tone.
The room looked at her with great attention.
"I told him to shut it."
Ginny said her last sentence as if it was some kind of sick joke. Tears were forming in the corner of her eyes, and the pressure of holding them in was just too much.
"Well, baby, I'm not going to love anybody else," she said, looking sorrowfully at the coffin to the side of the room, just under the window, "But I want you to know, Harry, that I know exactly what you meant. And now that you're gone, there isn't any sun anymore. And I don't like the feeling of night."