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Chapter Two – Ginny
As Good As Dead

I still don't really know why Harry broke up with me. I mean, I know why – he doesn't want me to end up like Dumbledore did. The poor guy must think that everything he touches is dead within a few months. First, Cedric was killed the night of the final task. Then Sirius was killed fighting the Death Eaters that had lured Harry there with the sight of his dying Godfather. And, most recently, Dumbledore was slain, as well – the one person that he had left to defend him, the one person he knew would always help him.

I can appreciate that he cared about me so much that he wouldn't want me dead, but the truth is, we're probably all going to die anyway. We were all there, fighting the Death Eaters. There's no way they won't report to V – Vold – Voldemort who was there. We're as good as dead, with or without Harry.

I guess that's not true – without Harry, Voldemort would have no reason to be coming into Hogwarts School anyway.

But the point is, I understand that he wanted to keep me safe, but it's not doing me any good. Really. I'm dying here without him anyway. Doesn't he realize that either way, I'm dead?

Ever since Dumbledore's death, nothing has been the same. And I don't just mean me and Harry – Hermione has been crying all the time, Ron hasn't been afraid to hold her, Harry has been silent, I've been withdrawn. Mum is suddenly horrified that she'll lose us all. Bill and Fleur aren't completely all over each other anymore. Even Fred and George are a lot more somber. They don't bother to dress in their neon green dragon-skin robes. They don't even annoy us by Apparating into the rooms at random points in time to scare us all.

Besides, they know that if they did, we'd probably whip our wands out of our robes and curse them before they had time to apologize.

That's the sad thing about our way of life right now – we hear a loud noise and we suddenly feel like we need to defend ourselves. Sometimes, as I lie in bed, I can still hear the curses being cast at each other, the cries of victims being hit, the tearing of flesh, the trickling of blood, the howls of pain. I see people falling over, my friends getting hurt. And I still remember the horrible moment in my life when I was told that Dumbledore was dead.

Sometimes I have nightmares about that night. They're so terrifyingly real, and each time I come closer and closer to my end. Sometimes I get so close that someone has actually shot the Killing Curse in my direction, but I wake up before it hits me.

And in other dreams, I am so absorbed in my own fighting that once the Death Eaters are gone, I look around and realize that everyone's dead. Hermione, Ron, Bill, Neville, Luna, everyone. And then I see Harry running towards me, calling out my name, and he drops to the floor, too. I run over to him, turn him over, put my head to his chest, and feel that there is no pulse. He is dead, too.

When I wake up, I want to run into his arms and have him hold me, have him stroke my hair and whisper that it's ok. I want him to kiss me like he used to. But I come to my senses and realize that he's not here – he's still on Privet Drive with the Dursleys. Maybe someday he will be here, but I'll be too afraid to run to him anyway.

Who ever thought that the death of one man could cause so much horror, so much heartache, so much change in so many ways?