Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. Get it through your heads, people!
Notes: This was written at like… well, really early and really late. So please excuse my lack of grammar and stuff.
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Harry slowly brought the letter to rest in the center of the table, obviously having difficulty collecting both his thoughts and words. "I don't know why I wrote that letter, Gin. I think I had reasons at the time, but everything was so confused. Leaving Hogwarts, well, I knew it left me completely vulnerable. Dumbledore wanted me to go back to the Dursley's, but my uncle wouldn't have it. I didn't know how to protect myself. So I moved to Godric's Hollow, to the very spot where my parents had formerly lived. It gave me strength, I suppose. But I knew Voldemort would come, that was obvious. It was only a matter of time. Every night was painful. My world was full of dreams, about Ron and Hermione dying, or Dumbledore, or… or you dying. Dumbledore offered to be my Secret Keeper, but I couldn't accept. Voldemort had found about the prophecy. He knew I was the only one who could kill him." Ginny made an inquiring noise, and Harry's gaze grew distant. "The prophecy smashed fifth year, I know. But Dumbledore was the one who recorded it to begin with. It basically said that Voldemort and I could not live while the other one also lived. Only I could kill him, and he managed to figure that out just before seventh year let out. I don't know how. He knew that Dumbledore would be my first choice in Secret Keeper, and I couldn't put him in that kind of danger. Hermione was already in hiding, and Ron was already Secret Keeper for her. Dumbledore suggested that I use you." Here he paused, staring out the window, as Ginny waited patiently for him to continue. "He's very persuasive, and I knew that if he asked you that you'd say yes. Even then, you were so strong, Gin. You would never have backed down just because of Voldemort, and as soon as Dumbledore mentioned it you would have pestered me until I agreed too. So I did the only thing I could do; I made sure that you would never say yes." Slowly, he released a sigh, rubbing a palm across the light scar still etched across his forehead. "I was caught up in my fear, my hate, in my frustration and desperation. It was so hard to force myself to write that letter. It took six bottles of whiskey and three sleepless nights, but I finally came up with something cruel enough to get you away. When I finally regained my senses, I only had a few weeks to mourn the loss before the attack. So many died in that battle, I convinced myself that pushing you away was right. I didn't want you to end up like Moony, and Tonks… and Dumbledore…" His voice trailed off, as Harry fought to keep control of himself. It was so hard, to open up to Ginny and yet so hard to deny her the truth. He had prepared a lie, but the moment he had picked her up Harry had known he would not be able to lie to her. The result was forcing back tears while he pointedly avoided her gaze.
As luck would have it, the waitress arrived at that moment to deliver their drinks and take their orders. Ginny ordered chicken, and Harry merely whispered that he wanted the same. The witch left, with an odd look in his direction, but he paid no attention. It was quite a shock when a small palm suddenly came to rest over where his lay on the table.
"Harry," Ginny whispered. He looked up, slowly, almost afraid to meet her eyes. When he did, he was quite taken aback. Instead of the pity he had been expecting, or even a sort of anger or frustration, there was only sorrow in her gaze. He had fallen headfirst into an endless pool of Hershey's; warm, calm, and wonderful. "Harry, their deaths were not your fault."
He scowled. Who was she to tell him that? "The whole battle was my fault. If it hadn't been for me, Voldemort would never have attacked."
"If it hadn't been for you, Voldemort would have taken over twenty years ago, remember?"
"That wasn't me, that was my mother. She died to save me, so that I could half-kill him. I would rather her have lived."
"She died to save you, Harry, because she loved you. So did all of those others in The Battle. They died to save you, or your friends, or the wizarding world in general. If you hadn't killed Voldemort that night, wizards, and muggles, would stand no chance now. Instead, you killed Voldemort, captured Lucius, and captured or killed a number of other Death Eaters." Ginny's voice was low and soft, a chorus of soothing notes to Harry's dimmed senses. Sighing, he brushed his left hand idly through his hair.
"It still hurts." He pointed out, though somehow the childish comment didn't sound at all juvenile, considering the circumstances.
"Life hurts, Harry, get used to it." She offered him a tiny, nearly non-existent grin, but it still somehow cheered Harry's gloomy attitude. He offered a miniature smile back, rather tentatively.
"I didn't want to tell you all that, you know. It feels weak, confessing to all of the emotions. It's almost like I can't control myself, or something equally pathetic." His smile was quickly replaced with a grimace, and he slipped his hand away from under hers subconsciously.
"It's not weak to show emotion, it just shows that you're human. If you could go through all of that without feeling guilty or depressed, then I'd be worried." She withdrew her hands from the table as their food arrived, laid carefully before them before Alice bustled away. She offered the witch a parting thank you before focusing on Harry once more. She could tell that he was still feeling awful, for the piercing emerald stare had been directed at the fading sunset. "What else is bothering you?"
"Ron."
The one word answer was enough, and Ginny immediately found herself blinking back tears. "I haven't been allowed to visit him. How is he?"
"Hermione told me to stop coming after I… after she found me in there once. She really wants to revive him, but its taking her ages to work out the spell." He blinked back tears, feeling yet another onslaught of complete guilt. "I hope she figures it out."
Ginny nodded awkwardly. "Is she… Is Hermione supposed to be working on that? I mean, it would be valuable information, but I thought the ministry's priorities are… different."
"Yeah, she's working with Moody on it. Ron could have information on Lestrange, which is their reasoning for working it out. Hermione would work on it with or without ministry approval though, you know her. She feels terrible for arguing with him, she somehow thinks that it's her fault that he got captured." His voice cracked on the last word, and he suddenly glanced down, surprised to find his meal before him. "I'm not all that hungry."
"Neither am I, not anymore." She twirled a lock of flaming hair around one finger. "You asked me why I kept the letter."
"Yeah," Harry jumped at the chance to get the subject away from Ron. "Yeah, I did."
"I suppose it was for my own stupid reasons. I wanted to prove to myself I could forget you, hate you just as much as you seemed to hate me, and all that. I kept it with me all the time as a sort of reminder. I'd see an article about you in the paper, or hear Fred and George mention you; and I could just touch it and remember that I promised myself to forget." She shrugged, glaring severely at her chicken. "I don't want to forget anymore. That is, not all of it."
Harry smiled, though a touch of sorrow lined the creases of his lips. "Those aren't stupid reasons at all, Gin. It was all for the best, I suppose. Enough people were lost in The Battle, in the war altogether; maybe our selfish reasons protected each other." Ginny remained silent as she picked idly at her food. Harry could tell that something about what he had just said had upset her, but she didn't seem willing to tell. "Something the matter," Harry questioned.
She looked up, a wayward strand of hair falling over her eyes. "What about after it was all over? You could have explained all this to me two years ago, why wait so long?"
He scowled down at his chicken, directing an accusatory glare at the mashed potatoes as if it was all somehow its fault. "Thanks all the same Ginny, but I was too busy to hope for ending up in St. Mungo's. I don't much enjoy being hexed, auror or no."
She laughed, the musical quality flitting lightly around the room, as if longing to be set free; released into an open meadow of golden flowers. Harry shook himself mentally for the thought, pushing back from the meal in sudden dislike. "Come on, let's go for a walk. It's too nice an evening to waste inside."
He stood, offering her his arm after tossing the appropriate amount of galleons on the table, and a rather large tip. Ginny stood after him, but she didn't take the offered arm. Instead, she lifted the letter from the table with three slender fingers, and tossed it carelessly into a nearby fireplace. They both stood in silence, reminiscing as the flames slowly licked away the last remnants of the horrible barrier.
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Well, that was bloody awful. Hope you all don't hate me too much, but I was idea-less, and I wasn't sure if I was going to have enough time to write this later. No guarantee's on another chapter for a while, though I'll try to have on by Sunday. Until then, please review!!!