Chapter 4 – Walls and Thorns
Crimson flames were sweeping away fears and hopes all the same; no dreams could survive the doom of a fire too real to be accepted. A fire which burnt more painfully than the one Harry Potter had lit in the fireplace. The flames he was gazing at seemed to go right through his eyes and to his heart. He doubted he even had a heart anymore: every day he put on a mask to fit what everyone else was expecting him to be. Defeat Voldemort…. How to defeat someone who is part of you, in one way or another? How to defeat your own death waiting by the corner? And how to defeat all the grief, all the feelings exploding inside? Harry suffered from a disease he could find no cure to: disbelief. He didn't, he couldn't believe in himself. Not after all the deaths that took place because the Dark Lord tried to destroy Harry. Maybe Voldemort wasn't even aware of the fact that he had already destroyed his worst enemy.
Tear by tear slid down Harry's cheeks, stream of bitterness held inside for too long; and no one there to hold his hand, no one there to encourage him, no one there to look at him in sympathy, no one there to care for him… or, at least, that was what he thought, for in the doorway stood Ginny Weasley, watching him as he ceased to lock away his darkest and deepest emotions.
"You shouldn't run away like that, you know… Run from us… It's no use…"
The young man shuddered and rose his head in surprise. At first, he was quite shocked, not knowing what to do, but then he quickly wiped his tears, not daring to feel ashamed, though. As if reading his thoughts, the girl said:
"You shouldn't be ashamed that you cry. It doesn't matter you're a boy. We have feelings, all of us, and you're probably the one with the greatest right to cry."
"I'm not ashamed… and I'm not proud, either. I only needed to put all my masks away for a little while… for tonight."
"How about getting rid of all those masks for ever?" Ginny asked, moving closer to him.
Harry smiled wryly. "I'm not sure it's worth it. I'm not sure anything's worth it anymore."
"Not even living?"
"Especially living. What for should I live?"
"To…"
"No." Harry jumped from his armchair and hushed Ginny with a finger, knowing exactly what she wanted to say. Their noses could almost touch now; the young man leant over the redheaded girl and whispered: "Voldemort has defeated me already…" Slowly, he took a step back, lowering his head in sadness, feeling that tears were filling his eyes again. He expected Ginny to reproach him what he had affirmed, but the girl stood still like a statue, apparently waiting for something. After a few seconds of heavy silence, Ginny eventually shook her head as to wake up from a dream and Harry rose his head again, a question lingering in his eyes.
"What is it?" the girl asked somewhat hopefully. The young man struggled inside for a moment, slightly moved his lips, trying to form a reply, but the only thing he said was "Nothing." Quite disappointed, Ginny placed her right hand on his shoulder.
"I want to help you. Please, let me do so…"
Harry felt miserable and useless. He didn't want to accept that he really needed someone to help him deal with himself.
"You can't help me." he turned his back on her. This provoked a struggle inside the girl, too. A struggle between feeling powerless, angry and disappointed. She was unsure whether to insist in helping him, turn back and leave and slip on the floor and cry. As Ginny let out a sigh, Harry realised he had upset her, so he faced her once again. Meeting her exasperated gaze, he half-smiled and made her a proposition:
"Giny… How about letting go all these sordid matters for a few minutes and do something pleasant instead?"
"Something… pleasant? What?" she asked, puzzled.
The boy gave a full smile this time and pulled out his wand. "Accio guitar!" The redheaded girl started to laugh, amused. When he had his guitar in his arms, Harry sat on the floor, beginning a half-sad, half-animated song. Ginny let herself slip beside him, softly leaning on his arm, singing herself to the melody much familiar to her.
If you want to,
I can save you,
I can take it away from you…
So lonely inside, so busy out there,
All you wanted was somebody who cares…
I didn't know that
You were so cold and
You needed someone to show you the way…
So I took you hand and
We figured out that When the time comes, I'll take you away…The lyrics of a muggles' song that Draco had once heard echoed through his mind. He was unable to sleep after reading the letter he had received from his father, so he just laid still on his bed, in the darkness, his head feeling heavy, filled with thoughts and memories he would've rather not had. Lucius was asking him to prepare for a meeting with the Dark Lord, and that meant Voldemort was doubting of him. He'd be lost if he went to the meeting, but not going would also mean peril…
