Chapter Seven

Whispers of the End

"Cowards die many times before their deaths,
The valiant never taste of death but once."

Shakespeare (Julius Caesar, II.ii.32-33)

Ginny sat alone in the living room at the Burrow, staring at the fire. She still couldn't believe what had happened the week before. It was almost surreal. Voldemort was gone.

Eight years after his return, after eight years of war, he was gone. For good this time; she saw it happen. Harry had done it and Ginny had borne witness to it all.

Ginny thought back on the events of one week ago. How Harry had run after Voldemort, and how she had run after Harry, with Ron and Hermione close on her heels. There were a lot of details missing from her memory of that final confrontation, and everyday since then she tried to make some sort of sense of it all.

Panting, Ginny tried to keep up with Harry, but he was simply running much faster than her. Her ankle was still hurting slightly from the fracture earlier that night; Hermione's healing spell had helped greatly, but there was still a great throbbing of discomfort. She watched Harry's raven hair disappear around a corner.

No! a voice screamed in Ginny's mind, and she tried to run just a little faster. She wouldn't lose him--she couldn't.

As she huffed around the corner, her heart clenched up and she gasped for air. Where was he?

Coming to a stop, Ginny looked around, wide-eyed. "Harry," she whispered, her voice harsh. Unsurprisingly, there was no answer. Ginny frowned and took a step forward. Jetting an arm out, her fingers grazed the rough, stony walls and she looked in through a doorway.

At the sight of the empty room, Ginny sighed out in frustration and then quickly froze, her ears perking up. She'd heard something, but it was quickly lost as Ron appeared in the hallway looking at her with wide, alert eyes.

"Where is he?" he asked urgently.

"Shush!" Ginny snapped, her ears searching for a hint of the noise she had heard a moment ago. She took a few steps in the direction she thought the noise had come from, yet, all she could hear was someone running toward them and then a slight 'oomph!'

Hermione had apparently run into Ron's back. Snapping her head around, Ginny confirmed what she heard. Hermione shot a confused look at Ginny and opened her mouth. "Where's Ha--"

"Shush!" Ginny used her arms this time, gesturing in a fit of urgency. She'd heard the noise again. Leaving Ron and Hermione where they were, Ginny continued down the hall briskly, only semi-confident she now knew where the noise had come from.

Holding her breath, she approached a large door to the right. She only briefly took notice of the intricate carvings on the frame of the door before placing her palms on the harsh wood, and pushed.

A thick green light fell on her face, and Ginny instantly knew she was in the right place. Squinting past the light, she could make out two forms facing each other, their wands pointed straight out as though ready to attack.

Clutching her hand fiercely to her mouth, Ginny swallowed deeply. That was new. She hadn't remembered that light or those silhouettes before, and she felt nauseous. That green light was perhaps what disturbed her the most. It was the harsh green of the Avada Kedavra Curse: a sickly colour.

Ginny shut her eyes as tightly as she possibly could, trying to wipe that colour from her memory. She'd seen it too often during the war, and to have seen it with Harry standing right there had been terrifying.

Ginny brought her knees to her chest and tried to remember what had happened next. Failing miserably, she groaned in frustration. It just wasn't coming, no matter how hard she thought about it. Ginny knew she should be happy with just remembering one more fact about that night, but she couldn't content herself with it. For some reason she couldn't explain, it felt important to remember it all tonight, and she was extremely frustrated when she found she still couldn't remember everything.

Her fingers digging into her legs, Ginny thought back on the next piece of that night she could remember.

Ron and Hermione were in the room that was completely filled with green light now. They were all there, wands out, staring at what was happening before them, between Harry and Voldemort and the green light. Ginny didn't know what to do, but she was there, ready to help Harry in anyway she could.

It was then that Harry opened his mouth and shouted out a spell Ginny had never heard before. Her eyes opened wide as she waited for something to happen.

When nothing did happen, Ginny frowned and focused on Harry. His shoulders seemed to slump and his wand lowered slightly.

Suddenly, the green light changed.

It was no longer the sickly colour it had been, it morphed into a vibrant shade of green, one that seemed to exude life. It was an earthly, comforting green.

Just as suddenly as the colour changed, a sharp white light burst forward through the centre of the green light. Ginny flung her arms over her head as the force of the light threw her roughly to the floor.

The white burst of light was gone in a flash, taking with it, the green.

When Ginny lifted her head, her eyes immediately searched out Harry and found him almost immediately. He was still standing in the centre of the room, but he was standing alone. Voldemort had fallen to the ground, and for all appearances he was dead. Ginny wasn't sure how she knew, but she felt in her heart that he was dead.

Lifting herself onto her elbows, Ginny tried to call out Harry's name but found she couldn't. It was as though her throat was sewed shut.

Ginny took a deep breath in her seat at the Burrow. She was trembling. The next bit of her memory of that night was the most vivid, and had been so ever since she woke in St. Mugno's. It was also, perhaps, the most terrifying.

Harry's wand slipped out of his hand and clattered to the floor. A moment later, his knees seemed to give out and he fell, unceremoniously, to the ground.

Ginny felt all the air rush out of her body as fear invaded her. Not even bothering to try to get to her feet, Ginny crawled on all fours across the stone floor.

As soon as her hand touched Harry's arm, she knew something was horribly wrong. He was cold… so cold.

Ginny started to breathe heavily, her eyes fluttering around, as though trying to find something in Harry to assure her. She found nothing. Harry's eyes were closed, his face etched with an expression of pain, and when she hurriedly turned him on his back she realised he wasn't breathing.

She felt a sob rise in her chest. It can't be, she thought wildly. Don't be dead. Please, Harry, don't be dead.

Putting the palm of her hand on Harry's cheek, Ginny sucked in a struggled breath. He was so cold, and his body was disturbingly still. A strange feeling invaded her brain, and Ginny found she couldn't breathe. She felt some sort of sickness take over her, but it wasn't natural. There was magic in the sickness, and Ginny tried to turn to find out who had thrown a spell her way.

Yet, before she could, Ginny collapsed onto Harry's chest and slipped into unconscious.

Still shivering, Ginny's hands tightened around her teacup, grasping for the warmth it was emanating. She winced slightly at a sudden pain in her hand, but kept a sturdy grip on the mug. Her left hand had been cut to shreds while she was imprisoned. She hadn't realized it at the time, but the skin had been broken and torn almost to the bone because of the figures she had traced on the stone floor in an attempt to hold onto her sanity. It was also the one part of her physical body that was proving resistant to healing.

The week since her rescue had not been what Ginny had expected. She hadn't expected to be rescued in the first place, but that was beside the point.

No. Ginny had imagined it would be like the week following the Chamber of the Secrets incident. She figured she would be overwhelmed with nightmares, and that she would just feel wretched all over.

However, this week hadn't been like that at all. In fact, it hadn't seemed as though anything had happened at all; it was as though it had been a normal week, aside from the obvious ramifications of the Final Battle. Her imprisonment seemed more like a dream than anything else. The only remnant of it, besides her hand, was she had been unusually cold and had to have a fire going and have blankets covering her at all times.

Ginny had spent two nights in St. Mugno's before returning to the Burrow to be properly mothered by her mum. Outwardly, Ginny resisted this coddling, however, on the inside, she was secretly comforted by it. Molly had been in her element, fussing over her daughter's every movement. Ginny had been confined to her bedroom for a day before convincing her mother to let her wander the house, a house that seemed to be deep in mourning. She hadn't been allowed out of the house at all until earlier that day.

That morning, Ginny had woken up very early and quietly dressed in simple black robes. After four hours of staring out of her window in deep thought, she had gone to Parvati Patil's memorial service.

It would be the first service of many.

Ginny couldn't help but go. She felt it to be a responsibility of hers. Hermione had confided that she, Ginny, had been the inspiration, so to speak, for the attack; how could she not go to every single one of the memorial services of those who lost their lives in the battle.

They had given their lives so that Ginny, and the other prisoners, could be free. Some of the prisoners had died during the collapse of the dungeon, but most had survived and were currently recuperating in St. Mugno's.

Ginny had gone to Parvati's memorial service and sat in the back row, in the corner, and watched as Parvati's family and friends grieved. She watched the man she had learned was Henri, Parvati's fiancé, give a eulogy in broken English and it had nearly ripped Ginny's heart in two. Yet she didn't cry a tear throughout the service. She had wanted to--she still wanted to--but she couldn't. It was as though her tears were blocked.

Ginny hoped she would be able to find that release before the next day, when she would go to Michael Corner's memorial service.

Suddenly, the fire flamed up, spitting green flames high. Ron ambled out of the fireplace, quickly followed by Hermione.

A moment later, Harry walked out of the fireplace as well.

"Hey, Gin," Ron greeted her. "All right?"

Ginny nodded absently. "Yourself?" She barely heard his reply, though, her focus was pulled directly to Harry. It was the first time she had seen him since her rescue. Shifting around the room uncomfortably, Harry was avoiding her eyes like a champion.

"All right, Harry," Ginny heard her voice scratch out.

A grunt was all the response she got.

"What are you doing here?" she asked.

"I have to have a reason to see my favourite sister?" Ron teased.

"I'm your only sister, you prat."

"Same difference."

"We just had a meeting at Grimmauld Place, and we thought we'd stop in and see how you were doing," Hermione explained as she plopped down on a chair.

Ginny didn't really want to talk about how she was doing and decided now was as good a time as any to change the subject.

"Hermione," she said, turning towards the brunette. "How are things going with Malfoy? Have they set a trial date yet?"

Hermione's brow instantly furrowed, and Ron swore from across the room and glared at Ginny.

"What? What happened?"

"Nothing," said Hermione. "That's the problem. He's in a holding cell for the moment, but the Ministry is not taking this lightly."

"The Minister of Magic and his son are being held as supposed Death Eaters," spat Ron angrily. "No, they're not taking this lightly at all. Especially since most of them are bloody Death Eaters or Death Eater supporters themselves. Bastards."

"Ron," Hermione chided. "They say there's not enough evidence to convict Draco. Lucius has already been impeached and has left office. Madam Bones is stepping in for now, thank goodness."

Ginny was stunned. "What do you mean there's not enough evidence to convict? What about his wand? Didn't they do Priori Incantatem?"

Hermione and Ron exchanged glances. "They have," Hermione said slowly.

"So what's the problem?"

"They're trying to dump it on you, Gin," Ron said furiously.

"Me?" Ginny asked, utterly confused. "How do they plan to do that?"

"You were in possession of the wand," Hermione said simply.

"She didn't use it!" Harry exclaimed from across the room.

Ginny looked over towards Harry. She was half shocked by his outburst, considering his recent silence, and half grateful for his unconcealed support.

"Of course she didn't," Hermione snapped. "And they went back far enough with Priori Incantatem to know that there were more Unforgivables used with that wand than could be muttered in one night. They're just being difficult."

Still wanting more information, Ginny pressed on with questions. "Can they do anything to me? Madam Bones is just allowing this? I always thought she was fair."

"She is fair," Hermione said instantly. "She's one of the few in the Ministry who are using their brains. If it wasn't for her, Malfoy would be back out on the streets with a pardon in hand."

Ginny let this information sink in for a moment, before her mind wandered back to her other question. "And what about me? You said they're trying to pin something on me? Can they do anything?"

Hermione averted her eyes and Ron gripped the sides of his chair so tightly his knuckles turned white. Across the room, Harry stood abruptly, walked to a window and stared outside.

"What?" Ginny asked tentatively as uncertainty filled her insides.

"They're going to try," Hermione said softly as Ron swore violently. "They can't do anything, really. It's just threats. It's not your wand and you were never witnessed using it."

"But they're going to try?" Ginny asked.

Hermione nodded and Ginny swore.

"Ginny! You're as bad as your brothers. Honestly." Hermione sighed and went back to the topic at hand. "I wouldn't worry about it; they don't have any evidence against you."

"Right," Ginny said bitterly. She looked across the room, trying to catch Harry's eye, however, he was still looking resolutely out of the window. Shaking her head, Ginny muttered, "I'm tired. I'm going to sleep. Goodnight."

"Are you all right, Gin?" her brother asked her.

"I'm fine, just tired." Frowning, Ginny dashed out of the room.

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Harry had watched Ginny retreat up the stairs with a heavy heart an hour or so ago. He'd been planted in the same chair for a good forty minutes now, doing nothing but staring at his hands, or the wall, or the dying fire. Ron and Hermione were stationed in a love seat across the room talking in conspiratorial whispers.

This was the first time in a week he'd been able to show his face at the Burrow. He'd been dealing with his own demons back at Grimmauld Place, after sleeping for approximately three days straight. He'd killed people last week. Something he'd done before, but somehow this time it felt different. He'd killed Bellatrix Lestrange. After years of wanting her dead, he'd finally killed her.

Harry snarled softly. The way he killed her was bad. The way he'd lost control like he did…. And worst of all, in that uncontrollable rage, he had hurt Ginny.

And that was unforgivable.

That was what had occupied his mind since he woke up. Well, that, and having done what he'd been set out to accomplish for years; he had killed Voldemort.

He'd served his purpose in the wizarding world. He'd fulfilled the prophecy and defeated Voldemort; he was no longer needed.

Harry didn't know whether to be elated or devastated by that.

"I'm going to the loo," Harry announced suddenly as he stood up and walked towards the stairs, ignoring the curious looks Ron and Hermione were shooting him.

He knew why he had accepted Ron and Hermione's suggestion of coming to the Burrow today. They'd offered everyday since he'd been conscious, but Harry had always declined. Until today.

He wanted to see Ginny. He wanted to apologize, to beg her forgiveness that he knew he didn't deserve. But most of all, he'd missed Ginny. It sounded sentimental as hell, but damn it, it was true.

Harry slowly made his way up the stairs, pausing on each step, trying to muster up the courage Gryffindor was so famous for. He had no excuses now. No Voldemort behind every corner. No prophecy looming over his head.

It was time to do what he should have done ages ago. No more delays. No more excuses. It was now or never.

As he came upon Ginny's closed door, Harry took a deep breath. His courage still seemed to be failing him, and he cursed himself for it. He rested his hands on the door frame and leaned his head against the door.

Bloody hell. He had defeated Voldemort; surely he could knock on a door. Even if it was Ginny's door.

It was then he heard it.

Harry strained his ears. Yes, he'd definitely heard right. Muffled cries of a struggle were emanating softly from her room.

"Ginny?" he asked as he knocked on the door. There was no answer so he tried again. When there still was no answer, Harry turned the doorknob and entered the dark room.

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A/N: Gah! It's been forever since my last update! I hope the wait was worth it. Special thanks to Julie, Ranee and Jalyn, and to those reading and reviewing! I really appreciate it. And a very special congratulations to Julie and her new baby! throws confetti