--Beyond the Grave--
Disclaimer: Anything you recognise isn't mine – god bless JK!!!
Beta Reader: Sir Darlon – big thanks I couldn't do this without you!
Chapter 21 – Beyond the Grave
Reminder: because and evil wizard who could perform wandless magic on top of everything else was the last thing that I needed!
-- The Line Between Love and Hate --
When I had heard about Harry's power despair had coursed through me, but now it was worse because Hermione and Ron and Harry were now trying to cultivate it, to cause something to grow from the seeds of power already in place. And seeing him struggle seeing him suffer as he tried to access this power seemed in some twisted way to give me enjoyment, finally he was suffering as I had suffered, but even still the voice that I had tried to subdue still came back whispering to me, whispering that he couldn't really have killed me could he? And a part of my heart even went to him in his pain, a part that I would quite happily have chopped out given the choice but was unfortunately still a part of me.
Day in day out I followed him but still there was never a clue, never any sign that he was anything other than his own face value, and while I watched him carry on with his life, carry on without me parts of me seemed to flake away leaving nothing behind but raw emotion, anger that I was being forgotten, dismay that he could continue without me, hatred because he felt no guilt, misery because I had become a thing of the past.
Even so in the dark nights that I sat watching his bed I was almost certain that I could hear stifled sobs between Ron's loud snorts and Neville's little wheezy whistles, I was certain that had I gone close to his face, had I looked closer he would have been awake while the others slept tears in his eyes, perhaps not for the parents and family he had lost, but for the girl that was and could be no more to him.
Could this really be a healthy way to spend my afterlife? Obsessing over my death? Dreaming of victory over my murderer and all the while longing for his glance, his words and his caress.
Was it possible to love and hate at the same time?
I had often heard during my life of the thin line between love and hate, but I thought of it as a saying, a cliché nothing more. Now here I was living that cliché, that lie, convincing myself that he was evil, convincing myself he was the enemy but still desperate for an acknowledgement.
The ice that I had built around my heart, the cold that had consumed me after the memory seemed to be melting, did it matter that he was certifiably evil? That he placed my whole family at risk? That he went against every ideal, every thing that I had believed in.
Was it possible that I was gradually forgiving him, the feelings of warmth, of want and of need outweighing the hatred, overcoming the fact that he coldly and calculatingly killed me with no real motive?
He was showing grief I was certain of it, and maybe it was because of my need for something in the physical world to hold on to, a last remnant of my humanity or perhaps just a willingness to forget… but I found myself forgiving him.
[A/N – just think its right to end it here just wanted this to be a mini glimmer into Ginny before I carry on with the plot. Hope you like it and thanks for the reviews hope to update very soon however my computer is liable to explode at any moment so I am restricted with the amount of time it can be turned on so I ask that you bear with me and please review! – Silvermoonluna]