Disclaimer: JKR's. Not mine. Pooh.

Chapter Fifteen: The Cliffs of Ice


As the Portkey whirled through time and space, Harry grasped his wand firmly in his right hand. He was not letting go.

He finally landed uncertainly. He feet slid out from under him. He sat up, dazedly. Looking around, he saw ice and snow for as far as he could see in any direction. In the distance, there was a dull roar. Or was it his ears playing tricks on him?

The first icy blast of wind hit him furiously. It was greenish in color, letting him know it was not a natural occurrence. It knocked him to his knees. He shivered, clutching his wand to his chest, and trying to remember warming charms. His mind became frighteningly blank.

"Cal- Caler…" Harry's voice trailed off carried away by the wind. He needed to know where he was.

Slowly, he struggled to his feet, slapping his legs to keep them warm and to stop them from seizing up. He felt like he was moving through honey. His Auror gear was weakly spelled against cold, but it wouldn't stand up to anything like this for longer than five minutes. He felt cold starting to seep into his bones. He was getting sleepy…very tired.

Harry's eyes snapped open. No. He was not going to give up just like that. He sluggishly began trudging off into the wind, figuring its' conjurer must be in that direction.

He wondered why Malfoy would bring him here to die. Would he die? He was ill prepared for the cold, and already losing feeling in his limbs.

Harry was not paying attention to his footing. He very nearly fell over the cliff that came up suddenly out of nowhere. He scrambled back, eyes wide when he saw the icy churning monster hundreds of feet below him. It was the sea, white with ice, and fighting madly to claim the glacier he was clutching to desperately.

It was then Malfoy appeared.

"Funny," he drawled from behind Harry. "I wouldn't have thought the height would bother you, Gryffndor's star Seeker. Or maybe it's the cold?"

Harry, crouched on the ice, felt the adrenaline flood his veins. He spun and stood in one fluid movement.

"Go to hell," he spat, venom on his tongue.

Malfoy laughed, a cold, cruel, psychotic laugh. "Where do you think we are?"

Harry didn't answer, just leveled his wand at Malfoy's chest. Malfoy, who didn't seem to notice he was about to die, just kept talking. He was wearing a long fur robe; most likely charmed against the harsh winds he had conjured. Or perhaps they didn't affect him? Harry didn't care.

Malfoy was saying something else now.

"And Weasly? How is she doing? Is she good for a role in the sheets now and then? For I assume it's her you found me through. And she did make off with my second best cloak, the bitch. But then again, even I throw a dog a bone now and then. But anyway, Potter, back to my first question: does she still scream in horror every time you touch her? I imagine all those silencing charms-"

Harry wasn't even aware he had said the words. He saw the green light burst from his wand. He smiled, harshly. Malfoy was going to die, and Harry would leave him here to freeze into the glacier, lost forever.

But the spell never hit Malfoy. He quietly sidestepped and smiled.

Harry saw Malfoy's mouth move, but the wind carried away the words.

The silver light arced slowly, gracefully through the air. Harry watched in fascination mingled with horror. Slowly, the arc descended to touch his wrist.

And then his hand was gone.

He felt the sudden, sharp snap, felt the blood start to come. A hoarse cry burst from his throat. Harry dropped to his knees, cradling his bloody wrist. Thankfully, it was not his wand arm-he still clutched his last form of defense in his good hand, now streaked with his own blood.

A pair of well-shod feet appeared in his line of vision. Malfoy raised Harry's chin with one foot. "Pity. It'll make catching the Snitch that much harder now, won't it?" His lip curled into a sneer. Behind him, a gust of wind wound up, visible because of it's coloring, ready to attack.

Harry clenched his remaining fist. He was going to die. He was going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. A single tear slowly made it's way down his cheek.

Malfoy brought his face down to Harry's. "It's going to be odd without you around to hinder me, Potter. Leaves the path clear to Miss Weasly now, doesn't it? You're going to die, and I'm going to take her back. And there's nothing you can do about it."

Harry's eyes blazed like two emeralds. If Malfoy had ever looked into eyes with that much hatred in his life he couldn't remember it. He unwillingly staggered back a few feet, uncertain. Then he regained his composure.

"Goodbye, Potter. I've enjoyed hating you. But as they saw, all good things must come to an en-"

Malfoy was cut off by Harry's furious howl of pain and rage. With the remaining dredges of his strength, Harry lurched to his feet. He leveled his wand, a bloody stump hanging useless at his side.

Malfoy, in shock and horror, began to raise his own wand. He saw the cruel smile quirk around Harry's mouth.

"Dimitto!"

The spell hit Malfoy square in the chest. He had just enough time for a terrified expression before he shot backwards over he cliffs of ice. Harry watched with a kind of satisfied pain in his chest. He hated killing. But it had been him or Malfoy. And Malfoy was a monster.

Harry fell to his knees and with one hand, dragged himself to the edge of the cliff. The icy sea roared below him. He thought he caught a glimpse of Malfoy's white blond hair being tossed in the jaws of the monster that was the sea. It could just have been a trick of the fading light and a swell of icy water swallowed up what may or may not have been there.

He collapsed back against the ice breathing heavily. His wrist was still bleeding sluggishly now. Gasping, he tried to tear strip from his shirt to fix a makeshift tourniquet. His fingers were numb with cold. He could not manage with just one hand. Fumbling, he dropped his good hand to his side.

He was going to die here, alone and cold. He would never see Nicholas grow up, or see Ginny's child. He would never see Ginny again.

Andrew looked into Harry's eyes. "You need to come back. You need to come back alive. Ginny needs you…you need Ginny."

Ginny.

"Gin…"he moaned, lying on the ice. "Ginny…"

And somewhere, in his semiconscious, dying mind, a door opened. A vault he had kept locked up from himself for all these years.

And he saw Ginny. Ginny laughing, her beautiful red mane of hair streaming out behind her as she raced him on a broom. He saw her leaping into Ron's arms after winning the Cup sixth year. Smiling. Grinning. Crying. He saw a younger Ginny, lying cold and pale on a wet stone floor, a small black book next to her. A pregnant Ginny standing in his kitchen. Surrounded by her family in his living room. He saw her sleeping peacefully in his guest bedroom, her beautiful red hair strewn on the pillow under her head.

It was then Harry knew. Truly, really knew.

He had always known, really. Always known it would be Ginny.

He couldn't leave her.

Couldn't give up and die.

Couldn't live without her.

Now he just had to get back to her.

With newfound strength Harry picked up his head and glanced around. The wind (a natural one now) still howled, but at least the force of Malfoy's magic was gone now.

Harry hadn't the strength to Apparate. He knew he had one -just one- chance of saving himself. He stumbled and slid across the ice. His wrist throbbed and bled some more.

For what seemed like hours, he wandered, terrified that he would lose his sense of direction and plunge over the cliffs, meeting the same fate Malfoy had. The wind whipped his hair as the sky darkened.

Finally. Finally he found what he needed. He was almost unconscious. He sank, slowly but surely into the armchair, now frozen and icy.

As he felt the tug behind his navel he opened his eyes to look at the place that had almost claimed his life one last time.

And he saw, standing in front of him, a vision of him and Ginny. Her head was resting on his shoulder. Her red hair whipped in the wind. She smiled slowly, yet somewhat sadly, and blew a kiss. He saw himself give a wave, and smiled fondly.

Harry tried to get up, but was stuck to the Portkey. And before he could even call out to the doppelgangers they slowly dissolved into the wind, red swirling past him. And then Harry realized.

He had not had a scar on his forehead. And her eyes had not been brown. Her eyes had been green.


A/N: Oh my goodness, you guys, I feel so terrible for taking so long to update. I had a really bad, very severe case of writer's block, and I totally couldn't wrap my head 'round this chapter. It was just really hard to put my ideas and emotions in to words, y'know? Then onFriday I just sat down and said "I'm going to do this, I've got it all in my head and it's going to come out." And it did. Rather well, if I do say so myself. And I do.

A HUGE thanks for this chapter goes to Mary and Kay, both of whom pestered the HELL out of me to write this. It would not have worked as well without them. They got me all psyched up to write and I was like "YEAH! Let's kick Malfoy's ASS, the S.O.B.!"

So yes. Mary and Kay. Take a bow. Love ya, girls. They're the reason it's still up. I got all depressed and tried to quit, but they yelled. And hit me.

And thank you guys for being so patient. I hope it was worth it. I really tried hard. But, well, if it sucks totally, just tell me that. I'll only cry for a while.

The next chapter will be up sometime. I'm sorry in advance if it takes a while, but my muse has decided to go on vacation to Aruba. I knew I should never have told it about Butwho knows lots and lots and lots of reviews might convince it to come back early…

Oh. And by the way. I love Mary for diggin' out the ol' Latin book and looking up "I send away". That's basically where I got "Dimitto!" from, because the HP Lexicon didn't have the incantation for the banishing charm. Useful little spell, huh?

And what Harry's is trying to say when he's attempting warming charms is "Calere" which in Latin basically means "to make warm".

Annnnnnnnnnd now…REVIEW!