Summary: Anywhere you go, let me go too.


The sun had just begun to rise over the hill where Harry sat, alone, lost in his thoughts, as a light breeze rustled through the trees, making his hair even more untidy than usual. Below him, the small village of Godric's Hollow was just beginning to awaken to the new morning; the faintest trail of white smoke was rising from one of the chimneys of the small inn where he was staying. He felt his stomach rumble with hunger and knew he should head back to see what he might be able to find for breakfast. Yet Harry felt rooted to the spot where he sat, watching the village below, his eyes wandering every so often to the small graveyard at the very bottom of the hill, wondering how many others like his parents rested there because of Voldemort.

The sun became brighter overhead and Harry had to squint his eyes against it. Despite the breeze around him, Harry could already tell it would be a warm day; a tell tale sign that June was quickly moving into July. He wondered to himself how it had been a year since he had left the Dursley's and set off with Ron and Hermione at his side in search of the only way of defeating Voldemort – by finding and destroying his remaining horcruxes. It was a year that had not been wasted, and yet Harry couldn't help but want it back.

Harry thought of Lupin and Tonks, and about Teddy, who would only ever know his parents through the stories and memories of others, just as Harry had. But Harry knew of no one who could tell his godson what his father had been like when he was younger. He knew that Teddy's grandmother would tell him stories of his mother, but all Harry had to offer of Lupin were the memories he'd gotten from Sirius, from Snape, or from his own experiences. Harry would make sure Teddy knew how hard and how bravely his parents had fought against the Dark Arts and how they had worked to protect them both. Harry wished Sirius was there to guide him through this, but remembered with a sharp pang of guilt that it was his own fault that Sirius was gone.

His thoughts turned to Fred and how his loss had been the most difficult of all from that night. It had happened so fast, all Harry really knew was that one moment Fred had been dueling Death Eaters and having a laugh with Percy, and in the next was gone. Harry doubted he would ever really know what had caused the wall of the castle to crumble or where the curse that had killed Fred had come from, and maybe in a way that made it a little easier, the not knowing. The hard part of Fred's loss had only just begun; letting go of the shock and denial of a great loss to begin healing, being able in time to laugh and joke again, learning to live again, and George would have to learn to find his way alone while always, Harry assumed, feeling as though half of him was missing.

It was a feeling that Harry, too, had grown used to feeling. There hadn't been a time growing up when he couldn't remember feeling as though part of him was missing, and it had only seemed to grow more intense each time he lost someone he was close to. But instead of taking the time to grieve and heal, he had always just pushed on, storing everything up inside of him and using it only when he needed reminding of what he was fighting for. He doubted he would have been able to defeat Voldemort without those memories.

So he had returned to Godric's Hollow after Fred's funeral to give the Weasleys time to grieve and heal on their own. Harry's own healing would come in time, he knew that. He had made peace with Cedric's death, although he still felt largely responsible for it. But then again, how could he have known that the Triwizard Cup had been turned into a portkey? And how was he supposed to have known that one of Voldemort's loyal Death Eaters had escaped from Azkaban and had been impersonating Professor Moody the entire school year?

He had even been able to find closure in the death of Professor Dumbledore, and no longer held any hatred for Severus Snape. He wasn't sure how he could given that Snape's love for Harry's own mother had greatly come to outweigh the hatred he held for Harry's father, and without Snape's bravery, Harry was quite sure that he and Ron and Hermione would still be searching for the remaining horcruxes, imprisoned, or in all likelihood, dead.

And now the only losses he had left to make peace with were those of his parents, James and Lily, and Sirius. Although, he doubted he would ever fully make peace with Sirius's death. If he'd have been able to practice Occlumency as Professor Snape had tried to teach him, he wouldn't have seen Sirius being tortured in the Hall of Prophecy. But he hadn't been able to close off his mind, and had rushed off to save him, only to find that none of it had been real. And not only had he put himself in danger, he'd put others in danger as well, and wasn't at all surprised when Sirius had come to save him, because he and Harry were both brave and noble and stupid in that characteristic Gryffindor way.

And his parents. James and Lily Potter had died to save his life. And he had intended to die to save the lives of so many others. He was grateful for the life they had died to give him, but for the briefest of moments, as he had walked into the forest, Harry found himself wanting death if only to be reunited with them and to have that connection that he had never truly known. And he wondered if he would ever really be able to make peace with their deaths. He could press on and go forward, that he knew, he'd done it so many times before. He knew that his parents' sacrifice had been rewarded and that they had both been avenged the day that he had finally defeated Voldemort, but part of him still felt hollow and empty, and he doubted whether or not that feeling would ever truly go away.

Sighing, Harry stood and dusted himself off. He started slowly back down the hill toward the inn, finally unable to ignore his rumbling hunger anymore. He paused at the bottom of the hill for a moment at the graves of his parents. They had been only three years older than he was now when they had died, and then remembered that he had been ready to die before even turning eighteen, his own life sacrificed to save his entire world, just as the lives of his parents had been sacrificed to save his. He felt the breeze pick up and rustle his hair momentarily and smiled to himself. He had always been proud to be their son, and knew that they would be proud of him. Their sacrifice had not been made in vain; he had become a man of incredible personal strength and perseverance and had learned what it was to love enough to die for others.

He turned away as the wind died down again and started back toward the inn. He was grateful that he was able to make it back without running into anyone. He didn't feel up to much conversation at the moment and was content to just enjoy as much peace and quiet as he could find.

He didn't, however, expect to find someone waiting for him when he returned.

Ginny stood at the foot of the staircase talking softly with the innkeeper. They both turned their heads as Harry walked through the door and his eyes locked onto hers. He noticed that the normal softness, warmth, and mischief had been replaced by something steely and cold, no doubt leftover from losing Fred.

As Harry passed the two to start up the stairs, Ginny followed, and Harry heard faint whispering as they passed down the long hall to his room. He had grown used to others whispering behind his back; he'd had to endure it since he first entered into Hogwarts. It was not something, however, that Ginny had ever really had to experience. He glanced back at her and saw that she still held her head high, and if she heard the whispers that followed them through the halls, she didn't seem to acknowledge them.

Harry unlocked the door to the room and let Ginny inside first. He closed the door behind him after following her into the room and stood frozen in the center as Ginny moved toward the window. He watched her for a moment before he spoke.

"H-how did you know I was here?" he asked quietly.

"Hermione figured it out." Ginny answered sharply. "You could have told us you were leaving."

"I –" Harry started but stopped short. Something in the look Ginny flashed him told him that it was pointless to argue, and whether he argued or not, she was completely right.

"Why, Harry?" Ginny asked, and the sharpness that had been in her voice only moments ago had faded.

Harry found himself sliding his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "I guess I just felt like I was in the way."

Ginny looked him over as her jaw dropped in pure exasperation. Where did he come up with such rubbish? "Oh that's just bloody ridiculous and you know it! Mum is in hysterics, Harry, and when Ron's not with Hermione, he just sort of mopes about the house. Dad's been looking for you since last night, and quite frankly, I could curse you into next year."

Harry was tempted to look anywhere in the room but at Ginny, but couldn't quite bring himself to tear his eyes from hers. "Your family needs space, and I need to be here. You don't –"

Ginny held up her hand to him and Harry went quiet. "Don't tell me I don't understand, Harry; I don't want to hear it. I understand a lot better than you think. You lost something important to you years ago and now you have to find a way to move on from it."

It was Harry's turn to look Ginny over. Why was it that everyone else always seemed to know more about him than he did? He opened his mouth to speak but found that the words he wanted just weren't coming. Ginny's eyes softened as she crossed the room and took his hands into hers.

"We all lost someone because of him, Harry. Every single one of us did. But we need you." she paused and looked down at their entwined hands and smiled briefly. She was glad to know that smiling was something she could still do. She looked up into his eyes once more and marveled at just how green they were. "I need you. And you need us. I'd have thought that you'd have learned by now that you don't have to do everything alone."

"Ginny …" Harry's voice broke as he turned his eyes away from hers.

"You have to learn to let us – me – in, Harry, or you're no different than him." Ginny answered him quietly.

"Him?"

Ginny inhaled a deep breath and closed her eyes before popping them open again and exhaling. "Voldemort."

She didn't flinch when she said the name, and was glad when Harry didn't look at her in complete shock like so many others would have, even though they had all seen Voldemort fall at Hogwarts. Harry swallowed the hard lump in his throat and stood there silently. Once again, she was completely right.

"I am a real prat, aren't I?" he asked with a small smirk.

"You can't help it. It's habit by now." Ginny answered him as her arms circled around him. "But I love you anyway."

Harry leaned forward and swept his lips slowly over hers. "I love you, too."


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