Chapter 3

Harry sat quietly in the Gryffindor common room, staring intently at the crackling fire in front of him so that he could almost make out all its component colors. Beside him, with her body pressed up against his and her head resting on his shoulder, Ginny gazed into the flames with as much intensity. He held her hand possessively in his, resting them on his lap, while his other hand closed around the hand she laid on his upper arm.

The Weasleys had taken up beds in the dormitories of the younger students who had been evacuated from Hogwarts while the students who had stayed to fight slept in their own dormitories. Ron and Hermione had headed up the seventh year boys' dormitory together, and Harry had no doubt that his two best friends were sleeping in the same bed. Harry and Ginny sat in silence in the deserted common room, neither of them feeling the need to break it.

The events of the day seemed to replay in the dancing flames in front of Harry. He had joined Ginny, Ron, Hermione, and the rest of the Weasleys in the Great Hall that morning. After he'd had his breakfast, Ginny and his two best friends had taken him to the hospital wing, where a Healer from St. Mungo's had tended to him. Madam Pomfrey took over around lunchtime and made him stay until late afternoon. He was released with orders to "Rest, rest, and rest" (Madam Pomfrey practically harassed Ginny, Ron, and Hermione to make sure that Harry did just that).

After getting out of the hospital wing, Harry had found himself being dragged into a discussion about what to do with Riddle's body. It was a pretty simple decision, but the discussion took too long for Harry's liking because of the annoying (in his opinion, at least) arguments of the several self-involved Ministry officials who had participated in it. The Ministry officials, who Harry was pretty sure had gone into hiding during Riddle's reign of terror, wanted to burn Riddle's body and forget that he ever existed. Harry had no problems with burning the bastard's body, but he thought that forgetting Riddle's existence would be very much like forgetting the lives that had been ruined and sacrificed in the war against the dark wizard. Kingsley and McGonagall agreed with Harry and in the end, it was decided to burn Riddle's body (along with those Death Eaters whose bodies weren't claimed), but to erect a tomb so that people would realize that he was just a human being and not the seemingly invincible creature that everyone had feared so much.

Ginny, who had gone with Bill and Dennis Creevey to inform Dennis' parents of Colin's passing while Harry was in the discussion about Riddle's body, had not returned by the time it ended. While Harry understood Ginny's need to help Dennis Creevey, a part of him still felt resentful that she had left his side, even for just a few hours. Seeing the dead bodies in one of the classrooms on the ground floor did not improve his mood, but when Ginny finally returned with Bill well after dinnertime with such a defeated look on her face, Harry immediately forgot all his resentments. He felt stupid for feeling resentful that she had left him for a few hours when he had left her for months without any idea of his whereabouts and what he was up to. He felt stupid for resenting her actions when he would have done the same thing if he was in her place. If something had happened to Hermione, Harry would want to be the one to inform her parents—

Harry felt a pain in his chest at the thought of losing his two best friends—for he knew Ron would be lost without Hermione. Thinking back to all that they had been through, Harry's stomach turned to ice at the realization that he had, several times, almost caused his best friends' deaths. It wasn't just Ron and Hermione either. There was Neville, and Luna, and Ginny—

Ginny. He didn't think he would have been able to handle it.

Harry turned his head slightly to gaze down at her. He noted the way her hand fit perfectly in his, the way her body warmed him more than any fire ever could, the way her soft hair felt against his cheek, and the way the firelight danced in her eyes. She was more beautiful than any angel in heaven. In his mind, no one could ever compare. No, he would never have been able to bear it if he had lost her.

He tried to shake his gloomy thoughts away. There had been enough loss without him dwelling on the what-ifs. He thought of the bodies he had seen that afternoon, all wrapped in white sheets that belied the disaster that had fallen over Hogwarts. Black would have been more appropriate. There had been too much loss. Too many deaths had happened around him.

Cedric, who only wanted to bring glory to Hogwarts; who had helped him along during the Triwizard Tournament.

Colin, who had fought even when he was not supposed to; who had idolized him even when he shouldn't.

Dobby, who had saved his and his best friends' lives; who had been so loyal to him.

Fred, who had fought, and laughed, to his very last breath; who always managed to bring laughter in every situation.

Remus and Tonks, who had fought for their son and yet left him behind. Tonks, with her clumsy ways and her eternal optimism. Remus, who had been a mentor, a friend, and a father-figure to him.

Sirius, who was never given a chance at a normal life; who had escaped Azkaban, and later on the safety of the Order headquarters, just for him.

Mum and Dad, who had fought Riddle till their very last breaths; who had died so that he could live and fulfill his destiny.

And many others who would have lived had Harry surrendered himself much sooner. But it wasn't really his fault, was it? He had not known that he was a Horcrux right away. Riddle was the one to blame… Wasn't he?

But he, Harry, had convinced Cedric to take the cup, he had fallen to Riddle's trap in the Department of Mysteries, he had recruited Colin to the D.A., he had befriended the Weasleys, he had—

No.

It was all Riddle's doing…

Wasn't it?

"Do you think everything's my fault?" he asked, finally voicing the question he had been asking himself since…since he wasn't quite sure how long.

Ginny pulled away from him, taking her warmth with her, and met his gaze. The comfortable silence that had enveloped them since everyone else left the common room was gone. His question hung in the air. Her brown eyes bore into him. He could not be sure whether she was angry, concerned, exasperated, incredulous, or anxious—maybe she was all those things at the same time. He waited for her to say something.

"Do you really think that?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.

"I—I don't know," he replied truthfully, staring at their hands on his lap. "I—I just—" he wanted to think that it wasn't, but there was a part of him, a dark voice that wasn't his, that said it was. "I don't know," he said in a defeated voice, not knowing how to articulate what he really thought.

"Well, I know," said Ginny. Her voice was fierce, but her touch was gentle as he lifted his chin up so that he could look into her eyes. "None of this was your fault."

She spoke in barely a whisper, but her eyes showed how much she meant her words. He wanted to believe her. He really did. Hell, he had kept telling himself that it wasn't his fault.

It wasn't.

But the dark voice was stubborn.

"Cedric was killed because of me," he said, sounding almost angry.

"You had no idea the cup was a Portkey," she told him calmly.

"My parents gave their lives to protect me."

"Your parents did what any parent would. They would not have stood by while Voldemort tried to kill someone they loved more than life itself. You would have done the same thing."

"Colin wouldn't have fought if he hadn't been in the D.A."

Ginny closed her eyes for a moment, her brows furrowing at the thought of her friend. Harry immediately felt guilty for bringing Colin up. He opened his mouth to apologize, but she spoke up again.

"Colin," she began, taking a deep breath. "Colin was a Muggle-born. He would have died under Voldemort's reign. He preferred to die fighting than to live in hiding. He was a true Gryffindor." She looked Harry in the eye, "He learned that from you."

It was starting to sound like one of the arguments he had with himself. Only this time, this time the voice of reason was Ginny, and her whispers were becoming louder than the dark voice in his head.

"Fred—"

"Fred," said Ginny, her breath hitching. "Fred fought for what he thought was right, for what is right, for what our parents had taught us since we were young. Fred fought for a world where everyone could laugh freely without the threat of some dark 'lord' hanging over their heads. Fred never believed in anyone else making his decisions for him. Nobody could have made him fight if he didn't want to."

Ginny fixed him with a stern, almost angry, glare. "Do not insult my brother by thinking you had somehow forced him into fighting a cause he knew was right."

"What about Remus and Dora!" he said loudly, angrily. He realized a moment later that he was not angry at himself but at Ginny for saying that he had insulted Fred.

Ginny was unfazed by his outburst. She stared defiantly at him. He looked sheepishly down at his hands, somehow feeling stupid. She snorted humorlessly, but her voice was gentle as she spoke.

"You already know it, Harry," she said. Harry looked up at her, knowing what she was going to say next.

---

"I didn't want you to die," Harry said. These words came without his volition. "Any of you. I'm sorry—"

He addressed Lupin more than any of them, beseeching him.

"—right after you'd had your son…Remus, I'm sorry—"

"I am sorry too," said Lupin. "Sorry I will never know him…but he will know why I died and I hope he will understand. I was trying to make a world in which he could live a happier life."

---

"Remus and Dora," began Ginny, "were fighting for the loved ones they had lost to Voldemort—for her father, for his best friends. But most importantly, they were fighting for their son, for Teddy's future. They had as much reason to fight as you, Harry."

"What about Sirius then?" he challenged Ginny. "I know that his death was my fault. He came to the Ministry because of me."

"Harry, Sirius loved you, of course he would come after you. You would've done the same thing too—hell, you did do the same thing. You came to the Ministry because you wanted to save him."

"Only that turned out to be a trap," Harry spat angrily. "Voldemort was baiting me and I was stupid enough to fall for it. Sirius wouldn't have died if it weren't for my stupidity. You can't deny that, Ginny."

Ginny turned away from him and stared silently at the fire. For one horrible moment, Harry thought that she had agreed with him. It was one thing to think that he was responsible for Sirius' death, but completely another to know that someone else, especially if that someone else was Ginny, thought so too.

"Remember what Dumbledore told me after you rescued me from the Chamber?" she began calmly. Harry felt a cold shiver run down his spine at the mention of her ordeal during her first year. He did not understand why she had brought it up, and in such a calm voice. "I had been so sure that it was all my fault—"

"It wasn't your fault Ginny," Harry said fiercely. "Riddle was using you," he reminded her.

"I know," she replied. "But I'd been stupid enough to believe all the things he said to me. I'd been stupid enough to trust him."

Harry opened his mouth to argue, but Ginny quickly cut him off.

"But then Dumbledore told me that—" she paused, and then looked at Harry. "Don't you remember it? What he said to me?"

Harry wasn't quite sure what she meant. Dumbledore had said many things that night.

"He said that I wouldn't get expelled because—"

"Because older and wiser wizards had been tricked by Riddle," said Harry, finally remembering Dumbledore's words.

"Exactly," Ginny said simply. "You were only fifteen then, Harry. Voldemort, Tom Riddle, whatever his name is—he was an expert in manipulating people. Anyone could have fallen into his trap. Just like anyone could have trusted that diary. After all these years, I realize that now. I was too young and too innocent to distrust him. And you—you didn't know that he could manipulate your connection to his advantage. The two of us—we were just being manipulated and we fell for it because we didn't know enough. I know it sounds pathetic, but it doesn't. Like Dumbledore had said, older and wiser wizards had been hoodwinked by Voldemort."

Harry stared open-mouthed at Ginny. He had never looked at things that way. But maybe, he thought hopefully, maybe she was right. Falling into Riddle's trap wasn't his fault, just like being manipulated by that diary wasn't—definitely wasn't—her fault. Still, it did not stop him from thinking—

"I wish I'd known enough," he said, feeling inexplicably ashamed.

"I wish I did too," agreed Ginny.

Suddenly, Harry didn't feel so guilty or so alone about being guilty anymore. Ginny knew what it was like to want to change something she couldn't. And slowly, she was helping him accept that. But he still couldn't stop himself from doubting his blamelessness.

"What about Dobby?" he asked in a small voice. He was starting to feel ridiculous about what he was doing. Shit, he already knew it wasn't his fault, but he was having a hard time accepting it. He had been so used to wallowing in his guilt that it seemed easier than accepting that he wasn't to blame for anything that had happened.

"Dobby was free to do anything he wanted. You gave him that freedom. He chose to help you. It was that evil Bellatrix woman who had stabbed him. And," Ginny paused for a moment, the firelight dancing in her eyes as they bored into his, "you wouldn't have been able to save Hermione if he hadn't come."

The truth of Ginny's statement hit Harry like a huge wave. He remembered Hermione's screams and Ron's tears. That night at Malfoy Manor could have easily been the worst moment of both his best friends' lives. Ginny was right. He would always, always choose Hermione—

But that made it even more painful. That he had to choose. That he had to pick one.

"It wasn't a choice, you know," Ginny said softly, interrupting his dark musings. "It wasn't like Bellatrix Lestrange held you at wand point and made you choose. If she had, I know you would have given your own life," she added in a humorless tone. "And that is exactly why Dobby chose to help you. You would have laid your life for someone other people thought was inferior to them."

Harry stared at Ginny, surprised and at the same time not surprised that she had guessed his thoughts so easily. She gave him a small but warm smile that somehow dispelled some of the darkness that had settled over him.

"By fighting for you, Dobby was also fighting for the future of his race," she told him, and he suddenly knew it to be true.

He remembered standing with Ron, Hermione, Bill, Fleur, Luna, and Dean around the grave they had dug for Dobby. He remembered marking Dobby's tombstone: "Here lies Dobby, a free elf," it had said. Dobby was free. Dobby had chosen to help him.

As Harry's memories brought him to that night at Shell Cottage, a questioned slowly formed in his mind. "You—you knew about Dobby?" he asked Ginny.

"I knew what Luna told me," Ginny replied simply.

Of course, Luna and Dean had been at Malfoy Manor too. Harry was silent for a moment. He looked down at his hands, and then—

"I was arguing with Ron and Hermione," he began quietly, not meeting Ginny's eyes, "about—" the Elder Wand, "about something. I, I was—Merlin, I was so stupid! Ron had told me about the Taboo on Voldemort's name, but I had forgotten—" in my obsession with the Elder Wand. "I said his name, and the Snatchers arrived seconds later. Before we knew what was going on, they had us tied up with other prisoners—Dean was there. Hermione made my face swell, so that I was unrecognizable, but the Snatchers still thought I was, er…me. They brought us to Malfoy Manor—"

Harry chanced a glance at Ginny. She was staring closely at him, seemingly intent on not missing a single word of what he was saying. He turned to the flames before continuing. He told her about everything that had taken place at Malfoy Manor: about Bellatrix Lestrange and the Malfoys deciding not to call Riddle until they were sure that he really was Harry Potter; about Bellatrix taking Hermione for 'questioning'; about Ron's pleas to keep him instead; about finding Luna and Ollivander in the dungeons; about Dobby coming to help them; about Wormtail's death; and finally, about rescuing Hermione from Bellatrix Lestrange but losing Dobby to a stab wound.

"Dobby died saving us," Harry said quietly. "If he hadn't come, I don't know what would have happened to Hermione," his heart tightened at the memory of his best friend's screams. "She was screaming so hard. I've—I've never seen Ron cry so helplessly. I—I can't imagine what he must've been feeling…."

Hermione's screams had gone through Harry like physical pain. But Ron—Ron must have felt worse, so much worse. To hear the tortured screams of someone he would have protected at the cost of his own life, of someone he loved quite like no one else.

Harry looked up at Ginny. Tears were starting to form at the corner of her eyes. He felt a sharp stinging in his own eyes. He couldn't help the question that was forming in his mind. He couldn't stop himself from asking. He had to know.

"Ginny," he whispered her name.

She stiffened, as though she already knew what his question would be. A lump formed in his throat at the thought of what her answer might be. He hesitated for a moment. Part of him did not want to know. It was too painful. But another part of him screamed for an answer, to know about what she had been through while he was gone hunting the Horcruxes.

"Gin, did they—" his voice started breaking, "did they use the Cr-cruciatus on you too?"

Ginny closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them again, they were burning with that familiar, defiant blaze. She turned away from him and stared at the fire. Harry did not dare break the silence, hating himself for asking the question yet still wanting an answer.

"I wasn't the only one, Harry," she said, her even voice a complete opposite of the rage and sorrow that was building up inside him.

So it was true. They had used the Cruciatus on her. When Neville first told him about the Carrows, he had not wanted to believe that they had tortured her too.

"How many times?" he asked quietly, tightening his grip on her hand.

"What?"

"How many times did they Crucio you?" he asked hotly, his voice rising.

"Wha—" Ginny tried to pull her hand away, but he kept a strong grip on it. "I—"

"You don't know?" he asked, his voice strained. "You've lost count," he said darkly. "Was it that many—?"

"I haven't lost count, okay!" Ginny said loudly over his assumptions. "I did not keep count!"

"Why?" he asked angrily.

"Why what?" she asked, trying yet again to pull her hand away.

"Why weren't you counting?" he pleaded.

"What?" she asked incredulously. Harry squeezed her hand even tighter. "Why would I—Harry you're hurting me!" she said angrily, finally succeeding in yanking her hand away from him.

Harry stared at her, and then at the hand she was massaging with her other one. He tore his eyes away from her and buried his head in his hands, clutching at the clump of hair that his fingers could reach. His eyes stung sharply, but his tears refused to fall. He could not breathe. The pain was trapped inside his chest but he couldn't seem to let it out. How stupid had he been to think that she was safe here in Hogwarts?

"I should've—" his voice was forced, his lung hurt with every word. "I should've—"

"You couldn't have brought me with you, Harry," said Ginny. "I still had the Trace on me. They would have tracked you down."

She laid her hand gently on his back and he finally remembered to breathe. He felt some of the knot in his chest loosen as he let out a dry, tearless sob.

"I was right where I needed to be," she continued. "The younger students needed us—me, Neville, and Luna. They needed someone to run to when it all became too much, they needed someone to defend them from the Carrows. The three of us—we knew you would come. We needed to keep the resistance going so that you would have the old D.A. when you finally came. I—I was fighting for you—"

"I didn't want you to fight for me!" he said in a pained voice, looking angrily up at her. He had not broken up with her so that the Carrows could torture her.

"Because I knew you were fighting for me too," she continued as though he had not said anything. "That's what we were all doing. We knew you were fighting for us—for our world." She met his gaze, her soulful brown eyes reaching out into his heart. "We were only returning the favor." Harry looked away from her and ran his hands agitatedly through his hair.

"You've been through much worse," she pointed out to him.

He would rather suffer a million Cruciatus Curses than have her be subjected to one.

"I was only here until March."

Six months! That was much too long. How many times had they used the Cruciatus on her?

Harry clumped his fists in his hair and pulled at it. He suddenly stood up and paced angrily in front of the fire. He didn't know what to do anymore. He had never remembered feeling so angry and so helpless at the same time. He loathed the Carrows for using the Cruciatus on her. He hated himself for not being there for her. He was frustrated that he would never be able to do anything about it. He wanted to torture the Carrows with his bare hands, but what he wanted more was to turn back time and prevent them from ever laying a finger on Ginny. But he couldn't do that. It was impossible. She had experienced the pain of torture.

"Stop that!" Ginny said irritatedly. "When are you going to realize that I can take care of myself?"

"I know you can take care of yourself," he retorted. Why doesn't she understand—?

"Then why the hell did you break up with me?" she demanded.

Harry stopped and in his tracks and faced Ginny. Her words felt like a slap in the face.

"You know why I did that," he said, trying to keep his voice even. "Riddle would've come after you if he knew about our relationship. We both know you were in much greater danger as my girlfriend than as someone I just happened to know. I thought this through, Ginny," he told her. "You think I wanted to break up with you?" he asked, hurt. "You think this wasn't painful to me? Because, believe me, it was. If I could have done it any differently I would have. I did what I did because your safety is more important than my happiness!"

Ginny stared defiantly at him for a full minute before turning away. "Listen," she began, looking back up at him with a softer expression on her face, "I do know why you did that. I realized that if Voldemort had known about our relationship he might come not only after me, but also after my family. I realized that you might try to come and save me if Voldemort got to me—"

"I would come and save you," said Harry emphatically.

Ginny looked up at him and nodded. "I've seen enough to know that the war is more important than our relationship. I do understand your reason for breaking us up. That isn't really what's bothering me," she admitted. "It's this," she said, waving her hand meaningfully at him. "You, acting like this just because the Carrows used the Cruciatus on me. I can handle it, Harry," she said quickly before he could protest. "I had handled it. Many people had it worse than me—Luna got kidnapped, Neville and Michael got beaten up almost every day—"

"But it's different," he argued. "You're different."

"Why?" she demanded.

Because I love you, Harry thought, but his unaccustomed tongue had trouble forming the words in his mouth.

Ginny took his silence as a cue to continue. "When you came here, you told everyone what they needed to do, but you refused to let me fight. You agreed with my mum. I've never been more insulted in my whole life."

Harry's heart broke at the pain in her voice. He didn't want her to fight because he only wanted to protect her, to keep her safe. He did not realize that he had hurt her by doing so. He sat beside her again, all anger forgotten.

"I'm sorry," he pleaded. "I didn't—I didn't know. I only wanted—" he paused, unable to come up with the right words that could say how much he needed her to be safe, to explain why he did not want her fighting.

"When—when I saw Fred die, I almost abandoned everything just to see if you were alright. Everything, Gin," he took her hand, willing for her to understand. "For one moment, all I could think about was if you were alright. I didn't care about what I needed to do anymore. And when—when that Killing Curse almost hit you, I stopped going after Riddle and went after Bellatrix instead."

Even as he said it, Harry realized how reckless he had been for doing that. He would have lost the advantage of surprise if Mrs. Weasley hadn't stepped in. But, reckless or not, going after Bellatrix would always be his choice.

"If your mum hadn't stepped in…."

"Are you saying I'm a distraction?" demanded Ginny, pulling her hand away. "A liability?"

"I'm saying that I couldn't go on fighting without knowing that you were safe. I needed to know that you at least would have a future after everything was over, that I was actually fighting for something that was worth all my troubles…."

"You surrendered yourself to Voldemort, Harry," she told him accusingly. "Did you think I wanted to go on fighting after that? I thought you had died—"

"You don't understand," he told her, rubbing his face in frustration. "That was different."

"Why?" she demanded. "Because you're the Chosen One?" she asked derisively.

"Yes," Harry said fiercely.

AN: Thanks so much to everyone who reviewed. I'm not used to writing multi-chaptered fics that aren't lighthearted, so I was pretty uncertain about this one. Your reviews made me think there might just be hope in this story yet. Thanks everyone. I know this chapter is more 'angsty' than the first two. I hope you still like it. :)

And of course, thanks to my beta, Felineyx (from Perfect Imagination).