Ok. I wasn't at all pleased with the way my other version of this turned out; it was far too short, and quite frankly, it stunk. So, I re-wrote it. Hopefully I did better this time. I've left my first version of this up, so if you want to go read it and compare, feel free to do so. My love to all reviewers!
Disclaimer: I do no own Harry Potter or any affiliated characters/plots/themes. In fact, I own nothing in this one-shot except for the plot.
Warning: Angst, Character Death. If either of these things disturb you, go away. Thank you.
This is dedicated to Mocha-Java Boost and Ashyx for being there for me. Gods know I love you guys! --Hugs--
It seemed like a life time ago that he'd told her he'd liked her. And he really had.
She was something special, and he loved everything about her. Sure, he hadn't told her he loved her, but he didn't want her to run away – right? Everything she did, everything about her, was brilliant to him. The way her lips moved when she spoke, the way her hair looked once it caught the light.
The way her eyes sparkled when she looked at him.
No, she hadn't said a word about liking him. No, she didn't react the way he'd thought she would when he confessed. Quite the contrary, she'd turned and ran, avoiding him like mad for the next week. He simply put it down to the fact that he was best friends with her brother. A very over protective brother. But, if he wasn't friends with him, would she still have ran? Doubt crossed his mind. Maybe she really didn't like him. Maybe they really were meant to be friends.
The boy shook his raven locks. No. They were meant to be something more; he could feel it. Hadn't it been only a moment ago that he'd said he'd liked her, while in the confines of his mind he'd admitted to loving her? Yes, he decided, they were meant to be. Destined, if you will.
Of course she had her imperfections. No one was perfect. She had the tendency to snap, and her temper was wild, but to him, she was as close as it came to perfection. Her orange-red hair, pearly complexion and wit intrigued him. No one was quite like her. Nor, would ever be. Not to him at least. She was his.
She was his Ginny, and he was her Harry.
Well, in his mind he was hers, but somehow it wasn't like that in reality. He'd thought he'd seen a spark of romance budding between them in his sixth year, but it had obviously faded. She didn't want him. That thought alone made his life hurt, made his world feel like it was crashing down. Why couldn't she want him? Merlin knew he wanted her. The only thing he ever truly wanted, besides a family, was her. And she had run at the first sign of it.
But could he have thought it any different? He was the Boy-Who-Lived. The one destined to bring down the Dark Lord. What girl in her right mind would truly want the publicity behind that? The news articles, the fan girls, the falsehoods? No. He should have known she'd want a low-profile boyfriend. She wasn't one to jump for the lime light, and he should have seen this coming.
It wasn't like he'd asked to be a celebrity. In a perfect world, he'd be a nobody and have his parents back. All the spotlights tended to seclude him, building inside him to make him the recluse he was obviously meant to be. And without Ginny, he didn't care. After he defeated the Dark Lord, the wizarding world would dump him and he'd be left alone. Without her, none of it mattered. At the moment, falling at the hands of his enemy seemed pleasant, a vacation from the world of madness he seemed to have stumbled upon. At least he wouldn't have to worry about her. About how she was doing, what she was up to.
But did he really want to die with her ignorance of his true feelings? Did he want to leave this world with the knowledge that she didn't know how he felt? There was always a chance the he would fall and the Dark Lord would rise, what if that were the case? Could he leave the world, leave her unbeknownst to his love for her? His love.
Love. Yes, he did love her. Could he leave with everything the way it was?
No.
Coming to a quick decision, he stood up. He had to talk to her, tell her how he felt. It was now, or never really. Doubtfully he'd have this courage again, this sense of euphoria.
It was easy enough to find her, for she wasn't unpredictable. Sitting in her room, with their mutual best friend Hermione, she was talking. About… nothing. A conversation bent on seemingly trivial things, such as the latest wizarding gossip, and the local couples.
"Ginny?"
He hadn't realized he'd spoken until she turned to look at him, her eyes wide with anxiety. It didn't appear that she was looking forward to a conversation between them. That thought felt like a blow to the head with a hammer, but he plowed through. He had to tell her.
"Can I… er… speak with you a moment? In private?"
Nodding dumbly she stood up, leaving Hermione to contemplate the sudden awkwardness between them. He led her outside, behind the family garden, where it was almost impossible to be caught and overheard due to the heavy magical spells on it to prevent things like breakage and theft.
"Harry…" Her voice caught in her throat and she stopped her whispered protest. She was shaking, he noted, and her eyes downcast. It was his fault she was feeling like this, but he couldn't help but continue on; she had to know. She had to know how he felt about her. That he loved her.
But he couldn't find the words, couldn't find the right phrase to make her love him. What would he do if she didn't feel the same way? If he got it wrong? Oh Merlin, his courage just deserted him.
Actions spoke louder than words, didn't they? An idea sparked in his mind, and an ounce of his courage returned, temporarily. He had to do it, now, before it deserted him again, like he knew it would.
He reached up and put his arm around her waist, effectively drawing her nearer… a mere breath apart. All attempt of protest was halted as his mouth possessively took hers, tongues intermingling. She murmured softly into his mouth, tongue flicking across his as she thoroughly took him in. That act alone told him that she loved him, felt the same needs as he did. His courage regained and he concentrated fully on his task.
Her scent was intoxicating and he breathed in deeply as they paused for breath, staring into each other's eyes. How he could get lost in those eyes!
He could see the longing etched onto her face, could see what she wanted and lowered his lips to her neck, blazing a trail from her jaw to her collarbone. She gasped and he felt her soft body tense against his, her fingernails digging into his back, leaving long trail marks. Breathing his name huskily, she cupped his chin gently and returned his lips to hers, wanting to taste him again. She bit into his upper lip, gently reminding him that she could be possessive as well if she desired to be.
His passion ignited within her, and he let her feel all his lust. All his craving for her, his need; his want.
A hand snaked its way up her shirt into the hollow of her back, coming to rest between her shoulder blades; she arched her back against it, pressing into him even more. Where his skin met hers a fiery, electric feeling was numbing her, and she loved it. How he made her feel this way she never knew, but all too soon it ended as pulled away, licking his lips to extract her every taste.
He thought back to the letter he had received that morning from Mad-Eye. How they'd march into battle tonight, how his death would either be tonight, or it wouldn't. Destiny played a cruel hand. He'd only just gotten her, how could he leave now? But at least she'd know his feelings; she knew now didn't she?
A reminder later, in words. He'd tell her later that he loved her, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. That the thought of a life without her seemed bleak, and shallow.
But for now, he had to leave.
"I have to go."
Those words stung her, and broke the elation she had been experiencing. The moment that she had been dreading had finally come; he was truly leaving.
"Now?" She whispered, trying not to cry. She only just got him; it was her fault for that she knew. If she'd only told him, if she'd only forgotten her stupid pride and told him. But there'd be a next time… Harry would defeat Voldemort, she was sure of it.
He nodded and kissed her one final time, trying to convey all his love for her into one simple act, one searing moment. Once more he broke the kiss, whispering, "I'll come back for you" into her ear before leaving and not looking back.
It was his job to leave, although he took no pleasure from the prospective war ahead of him. He was the Boy-Who-Lived, and it was a job, not a passing fancy that anyone could take up at will. If that were the case, he'd have been gone long before now.
"You-Know-Who's dead!"
The cries of jubilation rang out through the night, the cheers settling in for good; the war was finally over. For good. It was true, the Dark Lord had indeed been killed, at Harry's own wand, but Harry himself was no better.
As he lay, a pool of his own blood engulfing him, he reminisced about the moments that he and Ginny had shared. His love for her, and in the end, her love for him.
His heart was trying to remember her laugh, her smile, everything he ever knew and loved about her was coming to mind as the Medi-Wizards and Witches rushed about. He realized he never told her he loved her, and it broke his heart to know she'd never know the most important thing about him. If only he'd told her, in words, and not just actions. Around him, he could hear the laments of the dying, and the wails of those who loved them.
But nothing could compare to the sorrow that welled in his heart, spilling out into his darkening soul.
Just as he knew his love was returned, it was taken away. But he had done his job; the Dark Lord was dead. He could die in peace, he could truly leave the world knowing it was safe. But could he leave her? Did he even have a choice?
He never regretted her, only hoped that she didn't regret him.
His world darkened and came to an end with her face being the last thing imprinted on his mind. Truly, it was the only way he'd have wanted to go; with her being his last coherent thought. At least he had loved, at least he had that one small taste of her before going into battle. A taste, nothing more, wasn't at all desirable, but it was better than nothing.
He had loved her. He had had her. In one moment, it had all been taken away. With his last ounce of breath he summoned a nurse nearby who rushed to do his one last request.
Mail. For her.
She hardly ever received letters, and this was exceptionally forboding. A black owl with white splashes across it's feathered chest arrived for her at midnight; the time of true darkness. It held two letters for her, one from Harry – for she could recognize his messy scrawl anywhere, and one from what appeared to be the Ministry. Deciding that she'd read Harry's later, she broke the wax seal and sat down on the edge of her bed.
Broken, her heart torn, she let a sob escape her lips. Her mind hardly registered what she was reading as the first line of the letter chanted through her mind.
We regret to inform you that a Mr. Harold Potter died today at 11:50 PM.
It was a standard letter, magically automated to be sent to the deceased's most loved person. It went on about the cause of death, the cutting spell, and the fact that all his registered belongings be sent to her. A tear traced it's way down her cheek as she fought to regain her composure.
Instead of trying to understand what the Ministry letter said, she ripped open the letter from Harry. A small fact, barely even recognized, alerted her brain. While her name on the envelope was in Harry's hand, the letter was neatly composed in small print; someone else had written it.
Ginny,
I'm dying. There's not much else really, but I know I can't be saved; no matter what the Mungo's lady says. I've lost too much blood already, I can see it all; it's everywhere. I'm scared Gin, I really am. I don't know what death will be like, especially without you.
I just want you to know Gin, that I love you. I never got to say it, but it's true. You were my whole world, and in one moment, it's all gone. Don't ever forget me, please.
I'll love you forever.
Harry
She bit her lip to keep from crying, tasting salty blood, tears streaking her unmarked face. He was gone. Dead. Why had fate taken him away from her? Why had she denied her feelings for so long? It wasn't because he was Ron's friend, no matter how much she tried to tell herself it was. She'd been scared. She'd been scared that she was just a one time fling, that once he'd gotten her, she'd be dumped as though she hadn't mattered.
No, Harry wasn't like that. Harry had truly loved her.
She got up, running to the bathroom and grabbed the first thing she saw. Life wasn't worth it, not without him. His face now haunted her, and she knew she would lead a half-life without him. Without him, nothing mattered. Nothing could take his place in her heart, and now, it was empty. A void that could never be filled without his taste, without his love.
Bitterly thinking of how one minute, one sweet moment, could change everything she dragged the knife across her wrist and let the blood spill out across her arm, savoring the pain. The crimson liquid leaked out of the hairline cut and spread, gravity taking it with her.
Arm numb, she could feel the darkness taking her. Taking her away from here. To Harry. She welcomed it, embraced it, succumbed to it. As long as it led her to him, she didn't care where it took her.
Her heart broken, she could feel her soul spiral towards the darkness, her body left to endure the ravages of time.
Yea, ok. It was still cheesy... But hey, what can I say? I like cheesy. Cheesy can be good, on occasion. Mmm Cheesy.
Hope you liked it enough to review it! Constructive criticsm is welcome, but no flames please -- I hope it wasn't horrible enough to deserve a flame. I know my grammar is really bad, and if you want to point out where it was particularly atrocious, feel free.
Love you all!