A/N: I do not own Harry Potter.
Trigger Warning: This ficlet talks about attempted suicide and depression.
Ginny felt the edge of the ledge. She peered down, she could see all the grounds from up here. The forest, the lake. She'd been coming up here to think for a while. Now, she w didn't want to think anymore. Her brother was gone. She knew it wasn't her fault, but if she had just stayed put, stayed safe...
She knew Harry understood a little. Survivor's guilt. She moved a little closer to the edge wondering if falling would feel like flying. A few inches closer, the wind pressed against her slightly, her hair a red banner behind her. She spread her arms, tears starting to slide down her pale face. She tasted the salt of her tears. Tasted the cold of the wind on her lips.
"Not yet," she whispered stepping down off the ledge. She wondered if this was what strength was, looking into oblivion and stepping back. Her body shuttered from the cold as she picked up her cloak and slipped back inside the castle.