Chapter 2- Ginny- What He Deaerves
(I'll cry a little bit.)
'What will happen if I die?' Harry had asked her suddenly, and she had known something like this was coming since he had crushed his lips to hers in the common room.
Ever since they'd tentatively began a relationship, she'd waited, poised and alert, for his to act horrifically noble and self-sacrificing.
But of course, being Harry, he'd waited until they'd been going out for over two months, when she'd finally begun to think that maybe she'd pre-judged him; that maybe all he was worried about was Ron's reaction, to prove her right.
He would be noble and self-sacrificing, and she would love him for it.
Or maybe despite of it. (She was never sure which made less sense.)
Ginny had finally been able let her guard down, to begin to ignore the voice in her head, silky smooth like death, or melting wax-
(Riddle's voice)
-that said it would never last.
But in the end, she was right.
But right then, she couldn't just let go- leave him alone under the giant oak tree and leaves slimy with dew.
There were several possible replies:
I'll cry a little bit (a slightly cruel joke)
Everyone will miss you (the partial truth)
Voldemort will win (the whole truth)
They formed inside her like Luna's wax-paper origami, but were crushed easily under her tongue before she could even think of saying them.
In the end, she'd just kissed him, hard an fierce, to chase away both their fears.
Perhaps that was the worst response of all.
Because, in the end, she'd been wrong.
Voldemort had been defeated, and so no one cared about the single, dark mahogany coffin paraded down Hogsmeade streets; everyone was too busy celebrating.
And when it came down to it, she hadn't been able to shed a single tear.
And that was the worst part of all, because he deserves more than she can give.
He deserves more than anyone can give.