A Sad Day at the Burrow
Harry sat on the edge of an oversized feather bed, holding Ginny's hand in both of his. Had the circumstances been different, he would have wondered how the Weasleys had ever fit the thing into Ginny's tiny room in the Burrow, but other problems occupied his mind at that moment. Gently, ever so gently, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, as though she might break. She had always looked delicate, but these days her daintiness had transformed into brittleness. He was startled out of fretting over her condition when her flame-colored lashes flickered, then parted to reveal bleary eyes. She blinked several times before she finally managed to focus on the source of the kiss that had wakened her from her nap.
"You came." Though it was soft, her voice was as strong as ever. As much as she tried to hide it, it was the only thing that was strong about her anymore.
"Of course I came," Harry muttered, surprised. "I'm your husband, aren't I?" If the woman in the bed hadn't been so obviously ill, he would have snapped at her, but he made an effort to contain his anger. Bloody hell! Does she really think so little of me? After all these years?
A gentle smile crossed Ginny's face. "You are. And you have no idea how sorry I am that I made you marry me. But it won't be for much longer." She raised a trembling finger to Harry's lips before he could get over his astonishment and say anything. "No, listen to me. I don't have much time left, and I need to get this out. I trapped you, Harry. I knew if I told you I was…in a family way…you'd marry me. You and your hero complex. I thought you would be happy with me. Eventually."
"I was," Harry mumbled around the finger on his lips, but Ginny didn't seem to hear him. If she had, she would have known his protest for the lie it was, but she kept talking as though she hadn't been interrupted.
"Harry, I'm so sorry. But…maybe this time, you'll have the chance to do what's right for you. Not…what's right for everyone else." Her finger dropped from his mouth back to the hand-knit bedspread, and her sudden weakness made Harry realize with a start that she was actually talking about dying as though it was the only option left to her.
"NO! Gin, no, you can't die. You're not going to die. What about the family? What about me? We'll get you to Saint Mungo's. They can fix this, I'm sure they can."
Ginny smiled weakly. Still the same old Harry. "It's too late, love. Just worry about…yourself now. You can't always be…a hero." Her eyes slowly closed, and her body seemed to relax, as though she had been holding her breath throughout their conversation and finally decided to let it out in a silent sigh. Harry sat there, holding her hand, until he realized that it had gone limp and cold in his grasp.
His calm reaction surprised him. He let go of her hand, and eased out of the room so quietly that an observer who didn't know him would think Ginny was only asleep and that the slightest noise could wake her. Outside the door stood a silent cluster of people, their vibrant red hair giving them away as the Weasley clan and their loved ones. "She's gone," he informed them in a flat tone, no sign of emotion on his face. Before even his two closest friends could react, his hand closed on the wand tucked into his belt, and he was gone with a crack as the air rushed into the space he had Apparated out of. The only indication he had been there at all was the slight indentation in the bed where he had been sitting.