A/N: This is the sequel to The Last Enemy.


The battle had ceased, the war was over, and the world had come to an end … hadn't it? It was all a blur of tears of anger and loss and exhaustion, that was true at least. Ginny would have collapsed in a crumpled heap like the boy she loved if Ron hadn't been holding her up. Dimly she registered Voldemort talking, speaking to the defeated survivors, but her eyes remained fixed on the motionless body in Hagrid's arms.

Why, Harry, why?

How could this happen? Harry was the bloody Boy Who Lived – he wasn't supposed to die! He was meant to be the conqueror, the victor, the champion who saved the world after all hope was supposedly lost. But now all hope really was lost, because Harry was dead.

Her mind was a flood of emotions. She'd loved Harry – damn it, she still loved Harry – a petty thing like death couldn't destroy a beautiful force like love. It went beyond all comprehension, all understanding, everything else that she ever might have felt. Sure, she'd had a crush on him ever since she'd first seen him on that unforgettable day that had been the first of September. But the crush had turned into humiliation and everlasting embarrassment whenever he looked at her or someone so much as mentioned his name. And then Hermione had tactfully given her advice: Give up on him. Get to know some other boys. If he ever notices you, it won't be because you turn red every time he says hi.

She'd heeded Hermione's advice and gone out with other boys – first Michael Corner and then Dean Thomas – and withstood the humiliation of Ron telling her publicly he didn't approve her choice of boyfriends. But would he approve of Harry? The argument with Ron had been the catalyst, the realisation: she didn't need anyone's approval.

She and Harry had had a blissful two months following their first kiss, rudely interrupted by Harry breaking up with her – for her own safety, he said. She knew he was trying to protect her, she knew the kind of person he was … but she didn't agree. Didn't he think she knew what she was getting into? She'd been possessed by You-Know-Who when she was eleven. It was her own problem if she was putting herself in danger, not anyone else's.

It wasn't until after it was all over and done, when the ruins of the Great Hall were illuminated in the orange-purple haze of a new day, that Ginny, sitting at the Gryffindor table and resting her head on her mother's shoulder, saw Ron and Hermione silently get up and leave, a gap the size of a person between them as they walked. Her heart pounded. Harry wasn't in sight, but it didn't take her three goes to guess where he was. Sure, they were the ones who had been by his side all this time, and who deserved to know the truth more than anyone else, but she would have been content if he'd only included her too.

They're not the only ones, she found herself thinking furiously. Who do you think stayed behind and fought Voldemort and the Death Eaters while you three were gallivanting who knows where? Who was it who broke into Snape's office with Neville and Luna? Who is it who's been waiting for you all this time?

No. If he could postpone their reunion a little longer, so could she. Putting Harry out of her mind, Ginny worked tirelessly to help Professor McGonagall and the others bring some semblance of order to the Great Hall. It was early morning, but felt more like the second, third or fourth evening. When exhaustion set in, Mum sent her up to Gryffindor Tower and Ginny fell asleep in her bed in girls' dormitory for the first time in weeks.

She didn't dream of Harry, as she had for a number of nights that year; instead, she dreamt of Fred, and when she woke up, her pillow was wet with tears she hadn't realised she'd shed. That miraculous dawn seemed a lifetime ago, and her journey into the Forbidden Forest – so final at the time, was nothing more than another event in her life.

Awaking almost twelve hours later, when the sun was again casting dusky streaks across the sky, she lay in bed for a few minutes, just letting the weight of what had happened in the last day catch up with her. And again, she recalled the pain of losing one of her older brothers, and tried to suppress the sickening ache in her chest. There was time enough in the world to adjust, to understand. It didn't have to happen now. Right this instant, she wanted nothing more than a distraction, something or someone to help numb the awful, terrifying truths …

Without really thinking about it, she mounted the steps to the boys' dormitory. She paused behind the closed door labelled 'seventh-years' for a minute, decided there was no point in just standing there, and entered. There was only one occupant – Harry, who was sitting on the edge of his bed and staring into space. He had evidently not been up for long; his hair was tousled from sleep and there was a dazed look on his face, as if he'd been knocked silly by a Bludger. When he heard the door bang, he sprang to his feet and stared.

'Ginny,' he breathed.

She just looked at him. She wouldn't jump back into his arms just when he said her name; no, she respected herself too much for that.

'Hello, Harry,' she said coolly.

'Hi,' he said awkwardly. 'Er … is something wrong?' Unlike both Ron and Hermione, he wasn't the type who loved to argue, and she had to restrain herself from snapping at him.

'No – yes – listen –' She sought for the right words, then launched into speech. 'You know what? I understand, I really do. They're your best friends, and you've known them longer than you've known me. We're not even dating anymore, because you felt you had to break up with me to protect me or some rubbish –'

'But … I thought …'

'You thought I couldn't defend myself? I'm not that first-year you rescued from the Chamber of Secrets, Harry. Do you even know what I did with the DA while you were away? How much the Carrows tortured and made fun of people who had anything to do with you?'

'You don't understand,' he said, tone desperate.

'Then help me to, Harry.'

'It's – It's like I told Voldemort. I didn't want anyone else to die for me.'

'Don't be thick,' she said bitterly. 'You really think those people in the battle – Lupin and Tonks and Colin and F-Fred and everyone else – you think they were dying for you? Everyone who fought knew what they were fighting for. Sure, you were a symbol they could band behind, but the picture was bigger than that. They fought for peace, to get rid of You-Know-Who – all right, Voldemort – for the Muggles, for all the people who would have had to live under his regime. They fought because they knew there was something better, something worth fighting for. Why did you keep on fighting him?'

'You know,' he said. He looked badgered, confused. 'Because of the prophecy –'

'– and if the prophecy didn't exist, what would be your reason for continuing to fight?'

'Somebody has to do it – and, besides, he killed my parents.'

'Somebody has to do it,' she repeated flatly. 'You did; why couldn't I? I didn't do nothing while you were away, you know that. The DA isn't just a petty student club, full of fun and games. You saw all of us in the Room of Requirement. We never stopped doing whatever we could to help fight against Voldemort … to fight for you.'

She sat down on the bed, bouncing slightly to alleviate her frustration. Harry joined her, and the mattress sank further under their combined weight.

'I went into the Forbidden Forest,' she said slowly. 'I watched you die last night … or believed I did. And it was awful, thinking you were gone, thinking that we'd only had a few months together, because we'd both been so stupid …'

He didn't say a word, just watched her, drinking in her presence.

But now it's different, Ginny thought. We've got days and months and years – all the time in the world in which to talk …

'Harry. What you were saying to You-Know-Who. You've got to explain everything,' she threatened, punching him lightly on the arm.

A wide smile filled his face and didn't leave it for a moment. 'Oh, I will.'