It's All about Soul
Harry was, to be quite blunt, exhausted. He wiped his filthy hand over his equally filthy face, not to clean it, but just to push the sweat out of his eyes. He leaned heavily on his broom and thought that if he hadn't had it with him, he may have just fallen over completely. She was asleep and Harry felt guilty to wake her, but he had to get into the common room somehow. "Pumpkin Pie," he said wearily to the Fat Lady. Halloween had been two weeks ago, but the password hadn't been changed since then. She shrieked a little at his appearance and Harry thought briefly that he must look even worse than usual. He knew there was blood on his face, his robes, and his hands. But he wasn't hurt too badly. Madam Pomfrey had wanted to take him to the hospital wing but he had refused. She had pursed her lips at him but hadn't argued. After all, she had many more seriously injured people to deal with and she was used to his stubborn ways now. The portrait swung open and Harry pulled himself through, only long habit forcing his legs to catch himself before he landed on his head on the floor. He stood up and leaned on his broom once again, glancing around the darkened room. She was there. She was there every night. She stood and walked toward him, her arms outstretched.
"Oh, Harry! You look . . .terrible."
"Thanks. I feel terrible."
"Come sit down. Or did you want to go right upstairs?"
"No. I want to talk." It had evolved into a nightly ritual, this. Even the small talk was pretty regimented night after night. He would come in from the battle looking terrible with varying amounts of dirt, sweat, and blood on his robes. And she would be waiting. They sat down on the couch nearest the fire and despite the dirt and the sweat and the blood she leaned against his shoulder, and his arm slipped around her.
"How was it, tonight?"
"Dreadful. As usual. But tonight, no one on our side died. I think Neville was hurt a little but he walked away with Pomfrey. Your family is all okay." She relaxed almost imperceptibly. "Ron said hello and he'll see you in a few days. I think he and Hermione are going to come visit." She nodded but didn't move much. It was strange being at Hogwarts without them but they had left school the year before and moved into their own places. Harry had stayed because Dumbledore thought he would be safer at Hogwarts than anywhere else, plus it allowed him to be close to the Order Headquarters which had been moved to Hogwarts the year before when Grimmauld place had been discovered and raided.
"As for their side, I think we captured four Death Eaters and wounded one other one although he got away. Voldemort showed up for a few minutes but saw that things weren't really going his way and left soon after." He rubbed his head with his free hand in complete frustration. It had been going on like this for over a year now. Battle after battle, sometimes one the day after another and sometimes the Order would take losses, sometimes Voldemort's side would take losses. There didn't seem to be any progress made in either direction.
Ginny slipped her arms around his waist and hugged him, and he felt the aches and horrors from the night slip from his mind. He could never sleep until they had talked. It somehow relaxed him and allowed him to move beyond the fighting and onto some semblance of normal human existence. Then she said the same thing she said every night before he went to his room and collapsed on the bed, trying to sleep. "Harry, it'll all work out. I know we can win this war. We just have to." Harry usually just agreed with her. He wasn't sure he believed this anymore himself, but he didn't dare say that out loud. The alternative was just too horrible to think about.
She waits for me at night
She waits for me in silence
She gives me all her tenderness
And takes away my pain.
So far she hasn't run
Though I swear she's had her moments
She still believes in miracles
While others cry in vain.
Tonight, after she made her little speech about winning, Harry didn't just make the usual agreeing noise and head up the stairs to his private room. Tonight, he really wanted to talk to her. He was hoping that some of that optimistic belief that everything was going to work out would rub off on him. "Ginny, I don't want to go to bed yet."
She looked surprised. She knew how exhausted he was. The battles always wore him out completely and besides that it was two o'clock in the morning. "Well, okay, Harry. Why not?"
"I just want . . . .I don't know. I just want to figure out why you stick around, with me, I mean. I'm a mess. I could die any night. I could get your family killed, and everything. . . ." Somehow these words were inadequate to really express his feelings of incompetence when it came to fighting Voldemort. He was supposedly the only one capable of killing him, but he rarely even saw him much less got a chance to try to kill him. He hadn't even cast a spell in Voldemort's direction in over a month - at least 20 battles.
"You wouldn't kill them. It would be the Death Eaters that killed them. I'm frightened, sure, but I have to . . .I have to fight the only way I can and if that is, right now, supporting you, well, then I'll do it." She chafed strongly at the restriction that she couldn't actually fight but she was still in school and the Order simply would not allow her to participate. However, she had told them all that as soon as she left school, she would be fighting with them and Harry knew she would.
It's all about soul
It's all about faith and a deeper devotion
It's all about soul
'Cause under the love is a stronger emotion
She's got to be strong
'Cause so many things getting out of control
Should drive her away
So why does she stay?
It's all about soul.
Harry put his head back against the couch and stared into the fire. She had said this same sort of thing before - that she was supporting him as her part of the war effort. He knew that it was more than that, though. She loved him, and not as a brother. His hand slipped around the back of her neck and pulled her head closer to his. She came willingly as he bent toward her and kissed her. He knew he was filthy and didn't know how she could stand to even be near him but she didn't protest. She withdrew and leaned her head against his shoulder again. Harry stared unblinkingly at the flames dancing in the fireplace and let them lull him into a state of near sleep. The flames were warm, but he remembered . . .oh, yes . . .he remembered that night. That horrible, terrible night. He now thought of it as the first night of the war. The first of so many that he could not count. The flames had been hot then, under the cauldron, and his blood was warm and the stone against his back was cold. He could feel the way the sharp knife had . . .
"Harry? Where have you gone?"
He jerked suddenly, realizing he was safe and warm on the common room couch with Ginny. "Oh, sorry. I think I fell asleep."
"You weren't asleep . . . .Your eyes were open. You were somewhere else, though, thinking about something else."
"I was . . .after the Tri-Wizard tournament. I was remembering the night of the . . . ." She knew the story. He didn't need to go on. "I was almost asleep, though."
Ginny smiled softly at him. "No you weren't. I've seen you fall asleep on this couch many times. You're relaxed when you fall asleep. You were stiff, terrified. You were somewhere else and it wasn't anywhere nice. You didn't want to be there." Harry shook his head. It still amazed him, how well she could read him. She could understand things about him that he had never told another person. Hell, he thought. She understood things about him that he had never even admitted to himself.
She turns to me sometimes
And she asks me what I'm dreaming
And I realize I must have gone
A million miles away
And I ask her how she knew
To reach out for me at that moment
And she smiles because it's understood
There are no words to say.
"Ginny . . .I wish . . .I wish I had your faith that things were going to work out." There, he had said it. He had admitted the thing that he felt he could never admit. "I'm not sure that I can last much longer."
"Oh, Harry. I love you so much. You are the most amazing person." She hugged him tight again, her slender arms wrapping around his neck as she planted soft kisses on his cheek and jaw. "And I see you night after night, battle after battle, never resting, never admitting how completely worn out you are." Harry sighed deeply. He soaked in her words, letting them wash over him. He never tired of hearing her tell him how much she loved him. The words fell on his tired soul like rain onto a parched piece of earth, and he let them filter through all the hard spaces and soften the ache in his heart. "Why don't you go upstairs and take a long hot shower?"
"I don't want to . . ."
"Let me finish. Then come back down here, if you still want to, and I'll rub your back, okay?"
Harry thought that sounded like heaven on earth. "I may fall asleep in the shower."
"Well, don't do that. Do you want me to come up with you?"
"No. I'll manage, I think. If I'm not down in a half hour, maybe you could come get me, though."
"Out of the shower? I don't think so!"
"All right. I guess I'll just have to force myself to stay awake." He climbed the stairs, feeling slightly more energy than he had since the battle ended more than three hours ago. The debriefing had been exhausting as usual. Then he had apparated back to Hogwarts easily enough. But the walk across the grounds and through the castle had just about worn him out. But now he had some motivation - a back rub. She usually was happy to massage his neck and rub his scar when it really hurt badly but never his back. Twenty minutes later he was dressed in a clean T-shirt and very comfortable jeans. He ran a comb through his black hair and slipped his feet into clean socks. He considered putting on his trainers, but decided against it. As he entered the common room again, he expected to see her sleeping. She still had classes in the morning, and night after night she kept him company. She may have been asleep, but she stood as he entered the room.
"Well, you look much better."
"And probably smell better, too."
She blushed slightly, although it was hard to tell in the darkness. "I didn't think you smelled bad." This was very quiet and Harry flushed, also. She sat on the couch and he sat in front of her. She put her hands on his shoulders, and started rubbing gentle circles. Harry leaned his head back against the seat and sighed deeply as she seemed to draw all the remaining pain from his body and his heart. "You know, Harry, I'm not going to lie and tell you that I think this war is going to end quickly or neatly. I think that anyone who felt that way one and one-half years ago has certainly learned differently. But I think if we give it everything we have, we can win."
"I sure hope that you're right, Ginny. I sure hope that you're right."
It's all about soul
It's all about knowing what someone is feeling
The woman's got soul
The power of love and the power of healing
This life isn't fair
It's gonna get dark, it's gonna get cold
You've got to be tough, but that ain't enough
It's all about soul.
After a few minutes of massaging, her hands were pushing hard against the muscles of his back. He was leaning forward so that she could find all the sore and aching places along his spinal cord. She had also found the place on his shoulder that had been bleeding and looked it over critically. "I think it will be okay. Do you want me to heal it for you?"
"No. Let it alone. It'll heal on its own in a while."
"Yeah, but . . ."
"Leave it. I like reminders."
"Reminders? What do you mean?"
"I like the pain. It reminds me that I'm not fighting some civilized war of words. I'm fighting for my life. I'm fighting for everyone's life."
"Harry, that's . . . ."
"Sick. I know. But they're sick. They enjoy the . . . fighting. It's terrible. When our group gets together before the fight, we're all resolved. We're all looking at each other but we can see the fright in our eyes, the dread. Some hide it better than others. I've never seen . . . your dad looking scared, but I know he is. None of us enjoy what we are going to have to do. But it's different for them. When they see us, their eyes almost light up with excitement. They want to do it. They want to hurt us, kill us. And when they can make it hurt, that's even better. The Cruciatus curse is used all the time on people, supposedly just to make it easier to kill them, but I know better. They like to hear the screaming!"
"Oh, Harry!" Her hands had stopped moving now and Harry imagined he had frightened her. Good. He didn't want her to think they all went out facing some valiant fight with their wands held high in dignity. He had long ago given up belief in the fallacy that good always won merely because it was good. That belief was for people who had never seen Death Eaters fight. But when he turned his head slightly to glance at the terror and horror on her face, he was surprised. There was no terror, or horror, just resolution. "Harry, I know that the war is terrible. After all, I've lost friends and . . .come close to losing some of my brothers. But I know we have to win. And I know that you can beat Voldemort. I know it. The strength that you have is incredible. I never want you to forget that. You have the strength to fight him and beat him!" She was once again massaging the muscles of his back, and he felt some of her conviction flow through her hands into him and he took a deep breath. Yeah, he could go out and do this again tomorrow if he needed to. She expected it and he would do it. And the day after that and the day after that. Until there were no more battles to fight. And Voldemort was dead.
There are people who have lost
Every trace of human kindness
There are many who have fallen
There are some who still survive
She comes to me at night
And she tells me her desires
And she gives me all the love I need
To keep my faith alive.
After a few more minutes, he could feel her exhaustion and he pulled away and sat back up on the couch next to her. "Thanks. That felt really good." He wrapped his arms around her and snuggled her up against him.
"I'm glad."
"You know, it may sound stupid, but after every battle, when I look over the damage and the wounded and sometimes the dead, I feel so . . . .disgusted. It's all such a waste."
"I don't think that's stupid. I would be worried if you didn't feel that way. You'd almost be like one of them, or something."
"And then I think about coming back here, to you, and I have some small glimmer of hope, some happiness. 'Cause I survived and I can come here and hold you and kiss you. I'm one of the ones still standing. Do you think that makes me . . . one of them? That I'd find some happiness in . . ."
"No!" Her voice was firm. "You're not like them, not at all. You're just finding the joy under all of the sadness. You've got to be hard sometimes, Harry, like when you're going out to fight them, knowing what's coming and all, and still being able to walk out into it. But afterwards, that's when you can just be . . . happy."
"You really think that?"
"Yes." And he latched onto her belief as he slowly climbed the stairs again to his room a few minutes later. He collapsed onto his bed, still dressed, too tired to take off his clothes. He stared into the darkness for a few minutes before he closed his eyes.
Harry had thought a lot recently about himself and Ron in their second year. He didn't know why but it was the image he saw in his mind as they would get ready for battle. He and Ron, starting into the Forbidden Forest, just the two of them -- so very young, so unprepared -- knowing that they were going to be facing something really nasty - not sure what it was, but knowing it would have something to do with spiders. The spiders crunching under their feet as they walked, the scuffling of little feet against the leaves, the flashing of huge webs in the dim moonlight -- all of these had told them that spiders were definitely involved. And Ron hated spiders. They terrified him, but he went with Harry anyway. He went. To Harry, that was the definition of courage - walking into the forest with spiders. And you either went or you didn't go. There was no way to fake it. He hoped he always had the courage to go. But with Ginny at his side, he knew that he would. She gave him the strength he needed to face whatever lay ahead and to fight to come back again.
It's all about soul
It's all about joy that comes out of sorrow
It's all about soul
Who's standing now and who's standing tomorrow
You've got to be hard
Hard as the rock in that old rock 'n roll
But that's only part, you know in your heart
It's all about soul.