Their small apartment, on the outskirts of a quaint little Scottish town was a five minute walk away from the countryside. She didn't know where she wanted to go, but her feet led her through the quiet streets, her sobs drowned out by the rain, pouring down from above, and within minutes she was drenched, but she didn't feel it. She ran for what felt like hours and hours, oblivious to her surroundings, but gradually, she began to slow down, and at the same time, began to feel her injuries. Her feet ached terribly, and when she looked down, she realised she was barefooted, running through a muddy field, blood leaking out several gashes over the lower half of her body. Her hands were bright red and clearly scalded, her hair plastered to her face, make-up sliding down it, following the path made by her tears.

She began to faintly hear her name being called, getting clearer and clearer, and she knew who it was.

"Ginny!" He screamed, "Ginny, I swear, it's not even close to what it looked like!" She ignored him, her pace accelerating considerably at the sound of his voice. Soon, she knew he was very close by, but she never gave up, her feet kept working, pounding through the squelching mud. She turned her head, checking how close he was, she didn't want to be anywhere near him. He was sprinting through the field, he too barefooted and no jacket, not giving up on her, chasing her until she gave in to his persistence. His appearance unsettled her; he looked almost as he did on the night of the Great Battle- minus the cuts- though the scars had replaced them. She'd promised herself never to let him go through that again; she hated to see him like that, though she kept going. Pictures of him hurt and injured seemed to be thrown at her, and after one too many images, the last of him lifeless, she lost her footing and slid to the ground.

She felt the mud envelope her as she landed in it, on her back, cradling her stomach, hoping to give her unborn child another layer of protection against the fall. Within moments, Harry was by her side, whipping his wand out, ready to heal her injuries. She groaned and tried to move away from him, but stopped as the pain worsened considerably. He knew it would hurt her, but decided that it was the least dangerous thing for their child, and he scooped her into his arms, after casting a spell to strengthen himself, and ran all the way back to their home.

She was almost unconscious when he laid her on the bed, dialling for an ambulance straight away, as they lived in a Muggle town with no nearby magical facilities. As they waited, he took a seat on the bed beside her, grasping her hand, whispering apologies to her, wishing she was conscious enough to listen. He took in her appearance properly as she lay, her hair matted and wet, her face covered in mud. Her clothes ripped and stuck to her body, revealing the small bump on her stomach, which they had only just officially announced that morning. The skin not covered in clothing was red and scalded from the hot liquids that had been poured down her. She looked a mess, and the picture of her like that made him feel like he was going to throw up.

Fifteen minutes later, there was a chap at the door and Harry called the paramedics in, worried sick for Ginny's health. He helped them as they moved her to a stretcher, and loaded her into an ambulance. They waited as he locked the front door, and jumped into the ambulance, to be with her.

"Is she going to be okay?" Harry asked, warily, something told him that she wasn't going to be out of hospital for a while. He looked at the paramedic that was working on her, hooking her up to drips and machines, but he didn't answer.

"I said," Harry repeated, "Is she going to be okay?" He was angry now; he needed to know what was going to happen to her.

"We're working hard at this moment in time to keep her with us."

"What do you mean by 'keep her with us'?" Suddenly it hit Harry like a ton of bricks. "She's not going to make it, is she?"

The paramedic turned to look at him, his eyes full of sympathy,

"We can't be sure of survival, I'm afraid, her condition is very serious, and her heart rate is extremely low." The paramedic, looked away, seemingly unable to keep eye contact, as Harry begin to sob, holding Ginny's hand as tightly as possible, mumbling her name over and over again, even though he knew it would not help.

"I'm sorry, I promise, and if you go tonight, I'll make sure I'm not long after you." He whispered to her, "I love you, Ginny Weasley, please don't go, don't leave me in this life without you. I couldn't cope with it." And though he knew it was almost impossible, he was sure he felt her squeeze his hand faintly, reassuring him that she'd make it through this, and that they'd be okay.