There was a time when Ginny didn't remember the taste of ashes and snow on her tongue. Maybe in her last life. Or the one before.
Luna had an insatiable curiosity and constantly hunted Ginny for the past five reincarnations. And every time, Ginny bit her tongue and held her breath because disclosing any information about their previous cycles was forbidden. It was a small tightrope act they were balancing against fate.
"Ginny," Luna whispered, eyes downcast and demure with eyes as big and round as the moon, holding all the world's pain in the small of her smile. "You and I both know that this will be the last time. We don't have much time left. Will you be there…in the end? I saw Neville, but not you."
Ginny swallowed hard and turned away. She didn't like talking about the end. She couldn't face her like this: all her fear and madness engraved harshly on her body. Voldemort would come. Voldemort was near.
Luna said, "Will you be there in the end?"
But Luna meant, Will you be there if I die?
"I will try," Ginny said, at last, and kissed the cold skin of Luna's fingers with shaken lips.