09 March 2002

Hermione was so happy and still so surprised to think of Harry and Ginny together, let alone see it, that it wasn't until the day was almost over that she noticed that there was tension between the two of them. And not the good kind. It certainly wasn't obvious, but, thinking back later, Hermione saw little signs.

They were affectionate, but neither of them looked totally comfortable with it. Ginny smiled, but subsided into a moody silence every once in a while. While this seemed like normal Ginny behavior at first, it wasn't normal for her to pick at her food. And Harry kept glancing over at her as if he wasn't quite sure how she would react to the things he said.

And perhaps Hermione would have just chalked this up to normal, beginning of relationship discomfort, but the end of day was so strange that it made everything else seem strange.

Both Ron and Ginny were not in the room when Harry leaned forward urgently. He'd obviously waited until they were gone.

"Listen – you've got to make sure that the book you saw me buy—"

Hermione clapped her hand over her mouth in horror. It seemed like so long ago that she'd seen Harry at Flourish and Blotts that she hadn't even remembered… and neither had Ron. And, thanks mostly to the twins, nearly all the Weasleys knew that Harry had purchased it. "Damn. Harry, I'm so sorry. I didn't know."

"That's fine, but I don't want Ginny to hear about the book. I think she—"

"Think I what?"

Ginny stood in the open doorway to the private room, an unreadable expression on her face. Hermione would have laughed at the way Harry paled and then flushed bright red… except it wasn't funny. And Hermione couldn't help but notice that when Ginny sat beside Harry again, she did not reach out and hold his hand, even though they'd held hands the entire day.

"What about the book?" Ginny said bluntly.

"Er—"

"You never answered me, you know," Ginny said almost accusingly, looking straight at Hermione. "Who wrote the book? I want to know. I want it to be stopped."

What is she talking about? Hermione looked at Harry; he appeared to be just as confused as she felt.

"You're the one who told me about it," Ginny said aggressively. "And Harry already agreed that I could help him stop it from getting published. You never answered me. Who has written the book about – about M-Malfoy Manor?"

"Oh!" Harry said.

"What are we talking about?" Ron asked, walking into the room following a levitated tray piled high with sandwiches. Hermione briefly wondered if the food was meant just for him, or if he was going to share. "I got corned beef, just for you, Gin," Ron said, smirking.

"Oh, thanks, Ron," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. Her lips twitched, but she looked too tense to really find the comment funny. "And we're talking about the book that someone is writing about Malfoy Manor—"

"That Sennet bitch," Ron interrupted viciously, face immediately darkening.

Hermione saw that Ginny jerked a little, and clasped her hands tightly together. She pretended like she hadn't seen it.

"Sennet," Harry said thoughtfully, narrowing his eyes. "I wonder if she's any relation to—"

"The Lestranges?" Ron interrupted. "Because she is. She's Rodolphus and Rabastan's little sister, I found that out while I had routine work at Azkaban; she'd been visiting Bellatrix and Rabastan."

Something cold and dark flickered over Harry's face as he and Ginny exchanged a glance that Hermione simply couldn't read. It really brought home the fact that Harry had killed people at Malfoy Manor. Not that Hermione thought there was anything in particular that was wrong with that. The situation had obviously been dangerous, and, frankly, Hermione had agreed with Remus that in those days, stunning enemies wasn't the best idea. But up until that point, Harry had staunchly held on to his unwillingness to kill.

But then he had, and Hermione had to admit that she wondered what lengths Harry would go to stop that book from being published. And also, whether he would do it for himself or for Ginny.

Or both.

Ron must've caught the look on Harry's face as well, for he pulled Harry away, muttering something about having a conversation between two blokes. Hermione thought he might be telling Harry about the deaths of Bellatrix and Rabastan, and how the Weasleys had orchestrated it, but she couldn't be sure.

"Well, that was nice," Ginny muttered.

Hermione felt almost at a loss as to how to relate to Ginny now. She was… different. Before Malfoy Manor, she had been bright and talkative and warm. Ginny had had that same gift that all the other Weasleys had in that she'd made Hermione feel like part of the family, complete with the teasing. But after Malfoy Manor, she'd been a completely different girl (though she'd still treated Hermione like she did the rest of her family: distantly).

But in the last few months, she'd changed again. Her eyes had life in them again; she didn't seem to be an ocean away, lost in her own private misery. She didn't hunch in on herself, but held Harry's hand with ease.

Still. Maybe it was because her face showed more emotion than it had in years, but Hermione got the feeling that Ginny was annoyed with Harry for some reason, and he was frustrated by it, but trying not to be. Hermione glanced over at where Ron and Harry spoke in quiet voices, and felt another surge of incredulity at the fact of Harry and Ginny together.

"I'm amazed that he lets himself be with you," Hermione said thoughtfully. Whatever his issues were, Harry had been deeply affected by the events at Malfoy Manor; it was frankly a surprise that he would allow himself to be around her, let alone fall in love with her.

"Why?" Ginny asked sharply.

"Oh," Hermione said. "You know how Harry is – he doesn't feel like he deserves you. He thought Ron was going to—"

"He thinks he doesn't deserve me?"

"Er," said Hermione, at a loss for words. Was this a surprise to Ginny?

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The moment Hermione told her that Harry honestly, truly believed that he didn't deserve her, Ginny rage flashed through her so intensely that it frightened her. How dare he?!

"Excuse me," she said to Hermione. "I have to go to the loo."

She got up and walked down the stairs again, and opened the small door, locking herself in. Everything made sense. Harry's unwillingness to push her stemmed from his own stupid guilt complex. And he had absolutely no reason to ever think that he didn't deserve her. It offended her on a deep level that she didn't really understand. She was furious and she didn't know what caused it.

Until she remembered. The memory came upon her without warning, sucking her down, and it was so real that she could almost smell the charred remains of the bodies Harry had left behind. The scars around her wrists felt like they bled and oozed anew.

They stood facing each other. One of them looked smug, the other completely blank and glassy-eyed. Ginny was so far beyond terror, that she felt numb and didn't care, except that the look on Harry's face told her that it was finally happening. Voldemort was using his weapon, and she felt sick, but it was working.

However he was assaulting Harry, Ginny could see his shoulders slump. But then his face crumpled, and he bowed his head, and she felt a sharp, stabbing pain in her gut. "No," she croaked. Harry couldn't hear her, though, she knew. Or even if he could, he still hunched over, as though he wanted to disappear.

Voldemort's smile widened.

She repeated the word no over and over again, but neither one of them heard her, she didn't think. Maybe she wasn't even saying it out loud. "No, no, no," she chanted. Through the numbness, she hated the defeated look on his face, and the horror. After Lucius Malfoy had begun his masquerade, she didn't think she could feel things like that anymore…

"This is your fault," Voldemort said with relish. He was not speaking to Ginny, but he'd never bothered to, not much. Ginny was just the weapon to be used against Harry.

"Yes," Harry said, almost absently. "Yes, I know."

Don't let him win! Ginny wanted to shout, but somehow she'd lost the ability to speak. She curled tighter around herself, hugging her knees. Her stomach hurt from Nagini, and she focused on that. She coughed, and her hand came away covered in blood.

"Ginny…"

She looked up at Harry. He stared down at her hand as though he had never seen a hand before. She knew immediately that she had missed something important, because determination was back on his face. Don't let him win. Please.

"I have to do this," he whispered. "It's the only way I can protect you. Swear to me you'll run. Get out."

She shook her head from side to side. His words were bleak, almost devoid of emotion. Her stomach curdled, and she had to look down, certain that Nagini had coiled around her again. But the snake was gliding along the far wall, watching the proceedings with an all-too human look in her eyes.

"Tell Ron I—"

"Don't let him win, please," she whispered.

"He already beat me. I don't have a choice," he said, voice firm. A muscle in his jaw jumped uncontrollably. Briefly, he closed his eyes. "Kill the snake, if you can, and then he'll just be a man," he said cryptically. His entire face had a spasm and he turned around. "Do it, Tom."

"You dare--"

"Does that really matter?" Harry said in a loud voice, moving to stand right in front of her. "Just do it."

Ginny watched Voldemort's lips move; she was completely frozen, incapable of doing anything. A jet of green light arced out of his wand, and she heard Harry sigh as it hit, and he was thrown backward, landing heavily on top of her.

The floor of the loo was uncomfortable, but Ginny kept her head on her knees, not unaware that she was in the same position she had been when Harry had died. Died. She hadn't imagined that. It had been real. Little snippets of knowledge came to her – it probably had something to do with the prophecy Ron had told them about when had been clear that Harry wasn't coming back. Maybe even the—

But that didn't matter.

Ginny unclenched her jaw, realizing that she was grinding her teeth. How could he possibly blame himself? she thought. It made no sense. He hadn't had a clue what was happening. And when he did find out, he not only meant to die to protect her, but he got her out of there. What more did he expect from himself?

A knock at the door startled her out of her thoughts.

"Ginny? Are you in there?" Hermione asked softly.

"Yes, I'm just finishing up," she said, tapping the faucet with her wand to turn on the water.

But instead of opening the door and exiting the bathroom, Ginny continued to stare down at her hands. Hermione's voice just made everything worse. Because she could hear the other witch talking about Harry's saving-people complex, even though Ginny had overheard that half a decade ago.

The fact of the matter was that Harry blamed himself for far too much. He blamed himself for Sirius' death. He blamed himself for Cedric's death. He blamed himself for his parents' death. And yes, Ron had explained long ago that Harry's destiny had intertwined with Voldemort's destiny.

And Ginny understood how Harry might feel culpable in these deaths, even though it hurt to think about. But the fact that he held himself responsible for her being raped and brutalized made absolutely no sense. And even if he had felt like it was his fault, the very fact that he had died to protect her made it simply ludicrous.

She'd watched him take the Killing Curse in order to protect her. She'd felt the weight of his body slam against her, and push her backward into the ground. There was no way that his irrational sense of responsibility – his saving people thing -- could possibly follow him beyond that.

How could he possibly think that he didn't deserve her? He'd died for her.

"He can't possibly feel guilty after that," Ginny whispered, staring at her reflection.

He can't possibly feel guilty. Maybe he feels some lingering sense of responsibility… but only because you were so screwed up when he saw you again…

It was like she was hearing about the battle at the Department of Mysteries all over again. Harry had ridden in to Sirius' rescue even though Sirius had been completely safe, ensconced at Grimmauld Place. Hermione had said that Harry had blamed himself then, and probably still did. Harry wanted to save everyone because he felt personally responsible for what happened to those he cared about.

And what if she'd been right? What if Harry was only paying attention to her, and caring for her, because on some level he wanted to show that he really had saved her from Malfoy Manor? What if he just wanted to prove to himself that even though she'd been raped, she could still—

Ginny had the horrible image of Harry, thinking that he had to put her back together, piece by piece. And what was worse was that she had been feeling better, coming to terms with what had happened to her. What if his part in helping her heal had been done not out of love and caring, but because he felt like he'd been the one to shatter her in the first place?

She flung open the door. "I'm not feeling well," she said dimly. "I'm going back to Hogwarts."

If Hermione tried to stop her, she didn't know. But the numbness these thoughts had evoked soon gave way to incredulity. There really was no explanation. Harry couldn't possibly feel guilty; he had to know that he'd gone above what anyone would have expected of him. He'd taken the Killing Curse for her, in order to protect her. Surely that was absolution enough?

Hogsmeade retreated in the distance.

"Ginny, wait!"

Hermione had obviously wasted no time in telling Harry that she was leaving.

Harry sounded angry, but Ginny herself was much too angry to care overly much. Too many thoughts were swirling around in her head, and all of them led to the same, horrible conclusion. Everything Harry did and didn't do was out of a misguided sense of pity. Bile rose in her throat, and it made her keep walking up the path.

"What the hell have I done?"

His words stopped her in her tracks, and she was instantly aware of how close they were to the place where her life had changed. This infuriated her even more, until it felt like she was on the crest of a wave. And she didn't even care if it was about to drown her.

You're out of control, a small voice warned her. She ignored it.

Ginny whirled around, planting her feet firmly in the path. A very small part of her was grateful that they were totally alone, but she almost didn't care if any of the other students find out. How dare he… how dare he…

He stopped. His cheeks were bright red, flushed, but wariness settled in his eyes. "Just tell me what I did, Gin. Whatever it is, I'm sorry. I—"

"You can't fix everything!" she shrieked at him. "You don't – you can't even—" But words failed her as they always did, and she didn't even know what she wanted to say to him.

"You don't think I don't know that?" he asked her fiercely. "The last three years, I've—"

"STOP IT!" she shouted at him.

He retreated into silence. Perversely, this made her even angrier. So did the placating gesture he made with his hands. She watched him lift his palms as though in slow motion, and it reminded her so much of how he'd stood before Voldemort right before he'd died for her that she saw red.

"Don't you dare pity me!" she yelled. "Do you have any idea where we are? Right now? Where we're standing?"

She watched awareness spasm across his face. His gaze fled from her face and to the road. And then beyond the road into the woods. And she knew that she didn't have to spell it out for him. Here was the place that Lucius Malfoy had lured her away; where he had fooled her, for the first time, into thinking that he was her father.

"Ginny, don't—"

"It was right here," she said. "I was here, and Malfoy was here. But you weren't—"

"If you think that I haven't thought about that – I have—"

But she didn't let him finish. "How could you have stopped it? You couldn't have! And you have no reason to blame yourself—"

"What the hell are you talking about?" he asked her. His chest rose and fell rapidly, as though he had just run quite a distance.

Is he just pretending not to understand me? Ginny thought, livid.

"If this is because you're on your period—"

Maybe it was the fact that she actually was on her period that she was inflamed even more. How dare he?! And her wand was out and she said the words before she even thought about it. Great, flapping things erupted out of his nose. A small part of her told her that it was absolutely the wrong thing to do, but she was beyond caring that this was Harry that she'd just cursed.

"After everything we went through -- you went through – I can't believe – I can't believe that you told Hermione that you don't deserve me!" she shouted.

"I don't deserve you."

She could barely make out his voice. It didn't help that he was fending off the bats. And she was wasn't sure that the pain in his voice came from the bats -- it has to be because of the bats -- so she lingered, instead of turning away.

"I keep thinking you're going to come to your senses—"

Ginny couldn't listen. So she stomped away.

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09 March 2002

By the time the last bat dripped out of Harry's nose, Ginny had disappeared. Which was just as well; Harry was furious. It wasn't so much that he wanted to hex her – even though he sort of did – but that he wanted to hex something. His knuckles were white around the Elder Wand, and seeing the copse of woods off the path where it had all started just enraged him further.

He watched her continue on toward Hogwarts until she was tiny in the distance. His stomach rolled and pitched, and he had no fucking clue what the hell was going on in her head. Harry kept trying to piece it together, but just… couldn't. He stood in the middle of the path, lucky that he was alone, because he was sure he looked like a complete moron.

A part of him regretted ending the day with Ron and Hermione. He'd meant to talk to Ginny and force her to tell him what the hell he was supposed to have done, but she'd just – just -- she makes no sense! His feet were standing on the same ground where, four years ago, she'd been taken because of him, and he couldn't believe that she—

"Oy!"

Harry turned. Hagrid was heading up the path from Hogsmeade, waving jovially with his entire body. Half-heartedly, he waved back. But he had no desire to see anyone right now, not even Ginny. Especially not Ginny, unless she came to him to tell him…

His brow furrowed. "What do I want her to say?" he muttered under his breath.

Perhaps he wanted her not to say anything. They could go on pretending that certain things had never happened, that certain things weren't truth. Anger rose up inside him again and he walked – almost ran – back to Hogwarts. It came as a surprise when he got to his rooms.

Calliope immediately ran out to greet him, and Harry felt a surge of triumph. Ginny would have to come back for Arnold, and then maybe she'd have calmed down, and she'd just know – without him having to mention it or think about it – exactly why he knew he didn't deserve her. And they'd never, ever have to talk about it.

But that daydream died when he realized Arnold was no longer in his rooms. Ginny must have retrieved him already. Harry didn't know if it made it better or worse that she'd left him Calliope. He stroked the pygmy puff, feeling angry and confused, and not knowing what had even happened.

He knew he didn't deserve her. And, really, he just wanted to go back to a few weeks ago, before she'd started being distant to him. Why did she bring it up? The guilt he generally did a pretty good job of ignoring was in full view, and he felt the full weight of it, just like he had after Malfoy Manor.

What did she want from him?