Disclaimer- I don't own Harry Potter, and I wish I was making money, but I'm not.

Monuments and Melodies

Chapter Four- Broken

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Her gaze followed him out of the room, her brown eyes watching as he walked through the door and clicked it shut. Ginny looked back to her tea, and put it down gently on the end table beside her. Snape had told her not to leave the bed, but she got up again anyway, back to the sunlit window. She looked down at the devastated London ghetto once more, with its muddy streets and broken windowed buildings. It was not an area in which she would like to live.

Ginny did not like it here. She never had. It was dark and dreary, holding too many memories of friends and family she did not want to think of. It was too painful. They were not here, but she was and some part of her felt guilty for being so unhappy now. Hadn't her survival been a gift, or was it a curse?

All Ginny wanted to do was to return to the cottage, to be greeted by Neville, for him to make all the hurt go away, to make her forget the horrible things they did to her, to make her love him.

Because she did not love him. In fact, she didn't think she ever had.

And she hated herself for it.

But Neville was dead now and there was no comfort. When she had told Snape she felt awful, she had not been lying. It wasn't even the physical pain that jabbed at her, but the ache, the sheer ache that blanketed her like pins and needles, that ache from something missing, the loneliness ringing in her chest. She could taste the sobs as she swallowed them, and the moisture stinging at her eyes diffused like rainwater overflowing the gutter. Her knees broke, her back sliding down the torn wall paper. She pulled her legs up, as if to bring some sort of relief, but it never came.

It never would.

He had taken everything she had wanted, everything she cared about, everyone she cared about. He made sure to empty her heart time and time, so he would be the only one inside it. And he had been successful. She had a great passion for him, greater than her feelings for Neville or Harry had ever been. But it was different sort of fervor.

She hated him with all the force her heart could muster.

"Damn you, Tom…"

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After leaving her alone, Severus went to the bathroom downstairs, easily finding the bottle of healing slave Poppy had described. He dashed some water on his head, and then dabbed some of the "Madame Mildred's Healing Cream for Cuts and Scratches You Probably Wouldn't Have Gotten If You Were Just More Responsible," cringing as the salve stung at the cut. Digging through the medicine cabinet once more, he found some bandage and covered the mark, hoping to prevent any infection.

Making sure the cloth was in place, Severus returned to the kitchen. He supposed he should begin the pain relieving potion he had developed for any discomfort after the Cruciatus Curse. Merlin knows he needed it, probably Lupin too, but Ginny needed it most of all. She had been through a lot more, more than most were ever asked of. And though she seemed better and was grasping reality, he knew she was in a great deal of pain.

As he reached down into one of the lower cabinets to pull out a cauldron, someone spoke behind him.

"Here,"

Severus turned around to see Lupin, a cup in each hand. He held one out to Severus, who took it.

I don't know how you take it, so I didn't put anything in it."

"I drink it plain," Severus said.

Lupin took a seat at the table, "Good, then,"

"Where's Potter?" he asked.

"I sent him upstairs to get some sleep." Lupin replied

"You look like you could get some too,"

"I'm not tired,"

Severus looked around vacantly for a minute, not sure what to say.

"Thank you," he said finally, holding up his cup and taking a sip. The werewolf nodded.

"You looked like you needed it."

And he was right. Severus did look bad. He thought so himself after seeing his haggard reflection in the bathroom mirror. His face was gaunter than usual, his cheekbones jutting out and his coal black eyes framed by blue- black sacks. He was paler too, and his hair greasier and crusted with the blood he had yet to wash out. He had not showered in at least three days, too busy with Resistance business. Severus looked worse than Lupin, which was saying a lot.

Severus set the tea down, opening the cabinets as he fumbled through them, taking out a jar of something here and a box of something there. He set the simple iron cauldron on a makeshift stand, lighting a blue fire beneath it with the tip of his wand. Pouring a blue-green liquid into the cauldron, he began to expertly add the various ingredients, taking time to look over each one carefully. There would be no room for mistakes. He flicked Belladonna into the stew; dropped two tears from a phoenix supplied by Dumbledore, and filed chopped black rose thorns into it. The substance steamed in peacock colors, shimmering in the dark kitchen and bubbling merrily in a quiet symphony. It was a dark green color now, but Severus quickly brought a small metal flask out from his robes and added the tiniest bit of the red fluid inside to the potion, turning it a silvery-purple. Muttering a simple spell under his breath, the blue flame turned to an orange red. Turning away form the counter, he left the cauldron to simmer as he took up his now cool tea and drank in a large gulp.

"How is she?"

Severus looked up, realizing that Lupin was still there, "She's better."

"Harry's worried," Lupin said like he was trying to prove a case.

"She said he would be worried."

"And he is. We all are. She suffered a great deal." Lupin pushed.

"I think we all have suffered a great deal." Severus said, the ice frosting his voice.

"She is all he has. If Harry loses her, I don't know what will become of him."

"She will not die."

"That is not what I meant. You know what I meant." Lupin said, but Severus remained silent. He looked down to the floor, picking up on the grime that had someone found its way onto his shoes.

"Miss Weasley told me she did not want to see him at this time, and I will respect her wishes. It is the least I can do," Severus said briskly, putting his cup down on the table with new vigor. As he turned to leave, Remus's voice stopped him.

"Why are you doing this? Why do you feel the need to take care of her? She's never been anything to you. Harry could help her. Harry could love her. Why are you helping her?" the werewolf asked.

Severus stared at him, something echoing in his pitch black eyes. The sadness, the melancholy was there now, not hidden anymore, "Because she reminds me of someone I once cared about, and she gave me something no one else has ever been able to do."

"And what was that?"

"Hope, she gave me hope."

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Harry lay flat on his back, gazing up at the many water stained designs that polluted the ceiling. He was trying to fall asleep, but each time he closed his eyes something would bother him- the firmness of the mattress, the harsh sunlight beaming through the window, the pillow scratching at his ears, the worry that plagued him.

Yes, he was worried about Ginny. How could he not be? He thought of her day and night, ill with reflections of her flaming hair and dark eyes. He felt her presence through the thin walls, he heard her rolling laugh ringing in his ears, and he saw her bright smile greeting him again and again. And for all this, he could not sleep.

He needed to know if she was alright. Snape had not told him anything, the sorry bastard, leaving him completely in the dark. He wanted to see her, even if she was sleeping. He had already tried, but Snape it seemed had warded the doors. And it killed him that he couldn't be with her.

She was the only other one left. Ron was dead, and Hermione was a lunatic, but Ginny, Ginny had a chance to pull through. He had never really given the attention she deserved. Even when they were dating his mind had been elsewhere, too concerned with Darks Lords and Death Eaters. He guessed that was why she had turned to Neville, and that had pained him. For all he disappointed her, he loved her. He was just busy, but now, now Harry could give her the attention she had missed. He could make up for the time he had wasted. They could heal together. He wanted to heal, needed to heal and she could do it for him.

If only he could get to sleep…

Flopping on his side, he scrunched his eyes shut as he held tight on the pillow.

It didn't work. He could not fall asleep thinking of her. Sighing he turned back to the ceiling, trying to count the scratched and marks to help him fall into slumber, but every dent and line represented her. He could find her eyes, her nose, her hair, her mouth like a connect the dots.

Soon this would all be over and everything would be back to normal. Ginny would turn it back to normal. They were the only ones left, and Merlin be damned they would make it normal again.

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A/N- I'm so glad about the amount of feedback I am getting. I wasn't expecting so much in such a short period of time, seeing as the story is centered around such an obscure ship, and for going in such a different direction than most post- wartime fics you see out there. I really love reading those long detailed reviews because sadly, it makes me feel like this story might actually mean something to people. You people have been doing such a wonderful job motivating me, and I can only thank you guys with another chapter, so here it is!