Author: Vache the talking, soup-eating cow
Angst/Drama
Summary: Harry has found all the horcruxes but will he have the courage to face what lies ahead.
AN: Ok now we are with Ginny and Harry, I think I will get a lot more reviews this way. Sorry for the extremely long delay, I was knitting an extremely long scarf (about 15 feet long.) Just kidding. Anyways, I suck at dialogue so sorry about pretty much the whole story. Then again George Lucus stinks at dialogue as well and Star Wars is an international best-selling cult-favorite.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize because there is not a single original idea on this planet. Song belongs to the Stevie Nicks. Everything Harry Potter belongs to either Rowling or WB, not that it matters.
Just like the white winged dove...
sings a song ...
Sounds like she's singing...
whoo...whoo...whoo
Just like the white winged dove...
sings a song...
Sounds like she's singing...
ooo...baby...ooo...said ooo
And the days go by...
like a strand in the wind
In the web that is my own...
I begin again
Said to my friend, baby...
Nothin' else mattered
He was no more...than a baby then
Well he... seemed broken hearted...
something within him
But the moment...that I first laid...
Eyes...on...him...all alone...
On the edge of...seventeen
Just like the white winged dove...
sings a song ...
Sounds like she's singing...
whoo...whoo...whoo
Just like the white winged dove...
sings a song...
Sounds like she's singing...
ooo...baby...ooo...said ooo
I went today...maybe I will go again...
tomorrow
And the music there it was hauntingly...
familiar
And I see you doing...
what I try to do for me
With the words from a poet...
and the voice from a choir
And a melody...nothing else mattered
Just like the white winged dove...
sings a song ...
Sounds like she's singing...
whoo...whoo...whoo
Just like the white winged dove...
sings a song...
Sounds like she's singing...
ooo...baby...ooo...said ooo
The clouds...never expect it...
when it rains
But the sea changes colours...
but the sea...
Does not change
And so...with the slow...graceful flow..
of age
I went forth...with an age old...
desire...to please
On the edge of...seventeen
Just like the white winged dove...
sings a song ...
Sounds like she's singing...
whoo...whoo...whoo
Just like the white winged dove...
sings a song...
Sounds like she's singing...
ooo...baby...ooo...said ooo
Well then suddenly...
there was no one...left standing
In the hall...yeah, yeah...
In a flood of tears
That no one really ever heard fall at all
Oh I went searchin' for an answer...
Up the stairs...and down the hall
Not to find an answer...
just to hear the call
Of a nightbird...singing...
come away...come away...
Just like the white winged dove...
sings a song ...
Sounds like she's singing...
whoo...whoo...whoo
Just like the white winged dove...
sings a song...
Sounds like she's singing...
ooo...baby...ooo...said ooo
Well I hear you in the morning...
and I hear you...
At nightfall...
sometime to be near you...
Is to be unable...to hear you...
my love...
I'm a few years older than you...
are (I'm a few years older than you) my love
Just like the white winged dove...
sings a song...
Sounds like she's singing...
ooo baby...ooo...said ...(repeat)
Ginny shouted a well-chosen spell at Nott and whipped her brow with her sleeve as she watched his fingers melt together into a pair of brilliant green fins. Good, one down only about a million to go. She sighed.
She knew that this was it. The fight that would end it all. Judgement day, when Harry or Voldemort would die. Ginny did not know how she knew this. Women's intuition did not cover it. She knew it as she knew she was breathing. There was no denying its validity.
Finally, Harry could get some peace. Ginny imagined Harry's life without all the responsibility and tension. After the war Harry would get married and have a big family, overcompensating for his own childhood probably. They would all have those brilliant green eyes and play outside without the fear of being cursed into smithereens. Harry's laugh would lose its dark bitterness. Would he walk straighter with the weight of the world taken off his shoulders?
Now, however, was not the time for thoughts of a future. If Ginny was not completely focused, if she could not find Voldemort, if she lost her courage and failed. No, she could not risk betraying hum again. When Harry received as much as a paper cut, she felt as though she had her own arm amputated. Renewed with determination, Ginny charged ahead weaving around dueling couples and ducking stray hexes.
Flashback
It was one of those spring days that surprise you. It was one of the first warm days of Ginny's fifth year. The sun was shining and it was not in the least bit windy. And, to make the day even more perfect, it was a homework free Saturday.
Ginny was under the tree by the lake, feeling Harry's chest move up and down as she leaned against him. She loved how close he was to her. His steady breath softly blowing her hair. His broom-callused hands gently caressing her skin. It was practically nirvana.
"After this is all over, what are you going to do?" she blurted before she could stop herself. Completely ruining the moment in her opinion.
Harry switched his gaze from her hair to the lake where he had seen his father all those years ago. It was sometime before he answered, but surprisingly he did. "I don't know. Never really thought about it. You know, after the war," His fingers absentmindedly strayed to his own mop of hair. "I guess be an auror. I mean that's what I'm good at. Its just, I've always wanted kids…"
"What would you name them?" Ginny asked intrigued.
"Never really thought it through much," Ginny understood, he was more concerned with making it through the week, "How about you?"
"A healer," she answered promptly, "I have a debt I need to pay to society. I was so close to killing all those people, so I guess I should work at fixing other people's injuries and mistakes. You know guilty conscience. But yeah, kids would be nice."
There was a comfortable silence then, "Ginny, you know last year, how you told me that I could talk to you about Voldemort, did you mean it?" she nodded her head. "I'm really scared. I mean Voldemort, he takes everyone and everything I care about. I keep looking over my shoulder trying to make sure I am still safe. I don't want to even want to talk to anyone, they might disappear and I would be alone again…"
Ginny understood. Words were dangerous. All the words she poured into that diary. They were artfully stolen from her. She was used. He tricked her, found her weaknesses and exploited them. She almost killed Harry all because she could not keep her big mouth shut. No, it was definitely better to be quiet. Don't let people in on what you are thinking or how much you care. Blend in. There is only a handful of trustworthy people in this world.
Harry broke her out of her reverie, "And Dumbledore says it will be me who has to kill him. No one else can. I feel like I am just waiting for my fate, to be struck down by Voldemort. I am just a sitting duck, with everyone waiting for me to do something that is impossible."
Ginny was surprised that Harry decided to share this with her. Yes, she knew that Harry was destined to be the one to kill He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, but no one had really told her, she was not even aware that Harry knew his supposed future. Besides that, Harry chose to confide in her his feelings, not Hermione, not Ron, her.
"Harry," she laughed, "It's not impossible and no one is expecting you to do anything on your own. Its everyone's efforts that will kill him, not just the final blow. He doesn't matter what Dumbledore is telling you. He has been trying to tell me some prophecy about me for ages. It doesn't matter what some seer says. Prophecies are so unspecific that it could be about anyone at any time. It's our own choices that create our future, not some hocus-pocus and trances. Its all of our responsibility to stop the Dark Lord, not just yours." Reassured, Harry leaned in to kiss her on the lips. Those were the most logical, beautiful words he had ever heard.
AN Again: That was a long chapter (for me.) Don't expect it again. Love reviews. Flames make me cry because they prove I can never be a paperback writer, but send them anyway. I love how much effort goes into writing compliments and complaints. Usually I do not review so I understand if you don't.
