No Longer.
H/G. PG-13. One-shot.
There was always this stupid bet between Fred and George that Harry was aesexual, or gay. Fred was convinced Harry would be alone forever; but George thought he would be happier with those of the male sort. After Ginny went out with him, they never spoke of the bet again. Fred told Harry when he visited the Burrow before seventh year that he was never to be alone in a room with Ginny again or he would give him much more scars with more anger than Voldemort would be able to handle. And George glared at him a few times. They warmed up to him, of course, because they liked Harry. A few days after that, he left.
Around seven in the morning, Ginny's door burst open and her mum was shaking her awake, yelling about Ron, Harry, and Hermione. She called the Order, dad came home, and people came over. As if they didn't expect it. Ginny went about her business, making herself breakfast. They had said goodbye to her the night before. She told her parents this. Her mum started crying. Remus patted her on the back, but Ginny could tell she hadn't been the only one expecting it.
She was sitting at the Quidditch pitch late one night, looking up at the stars. It was a little cold because it was almost April, but she was bundled up in a Gryffindor scarf and a Weasley sweater. She stood up, getting ready to go inside. She heard a few distant yells, and wondered who was out past curfew. Damn, she was going to get detention. She stayed in the shadows, working her way towards the castle. The yells got louder, though, some of them frantic. There was a scream. Ginny paused, then broke into a run towards the crowd by the entrance stairs.
Hagrid was yelling. McGonagall was holding Neville and Luna back, yelling. Ginny broke through two sixth years that she only knew by face, entering the center of the circle. Hermione jumped on her, crying hysterically. Harry had blood on his hands, and Ron was still.
The rest of the night was a bit of a blur. Madam Pompfrey gave people potions, McGonagall asked lots of questions, and the students were talking about all of it. Ron was unconscious, and Pompfrey didn't know what was wrong with him.
Early the next morning Ginny came to visit. Hermione was sleeping her bed, and Ron was still unmoving. Harry was standing by the window, looking out over the Quidditch pitch. He looked up when he saw her, his eyes dark. "He's dead," he said in a flat voice. "I killed him."
Ginny knew of whom he spoke. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and the bandage on his side was stained a bit with his crimson blood. "He's never going to hurt us again," Harry said, a flicker of emotion in his voice. Ginny set her hand on the windowsil. His shoulders shook. "Bellatrix Lestrange - she's dead, too. And Wormtail. We killed all three of them, Ron and I."
Ginny swallowed. She brought her hand up and touched Harry's shoulder. He was only seventeen years old, and seeing the raw humanity in his eyes, feeling how he had aged years within the past year, smelling the smell of blood, potions, and dark magic on him broke her heart. She stepped closer to him, slowly wrapping her arms around his torso. Harry tensed, but then he drew her close to him, putting his hands in her hair and squeezing her shoulders to his chest. Ginny could hear his heart beating against his chest, and she closed her eyes as he cried into her hair.
A/N: written in about 10 minutes. thoughts?
