"If I don't get something to eat right now, I'll bite off Harry's leg!"

At first, when three hooded figures burst into The Burrow, we were all frightened and whipped out our wands. But when one lifted hers to reveal a head of bushy brown hair and another tried to hug Mum, the atmosphere changed completely.

"Ronnie!!" Mum cried. "Ohh, my Ronniekins is home!" Fred and George snickered as Ron turned as red as his hair, which we could see now because his hood had been knocked off by Mum squeezing the daylights out of him.

Hermione shook the snow off of her cloak and looked at my wand. She smiled. "Sorry about that, we didn't want to be recognized,"

There was still one more hooded figure. Of course, I knew who was behind the cloak. I just didn't think I could face him, not now, not after all that had happened. And, sure enough, when Harry Potter showed his face and those green, green eyes . . . tears ran down my face and I pushed out the door.

There's a little place that I often go to when I'm upset. See, we live near a forest, and I used to go exploring in it. One day, I found a little clearing, where lilies grew and fairies danced. A small, glistening blue stream ran through, and I hid underneath a big willow tree. This is where I felt my magic the most.

I sat down and cried, hard and long. I cried for losing Harry, for betraying him. I cried for leaving Draco, for letting him stay alone at Hogwarts. I cried for Dumbledore, as well. I needed someone's wisdom, and I didn't have anyone's.

When I finally looked up, I was startled to see Draco sitting next to me.

"Wh-What are you . . .?" he put his finger lightly to my lips to silence me, and then replaced his finger with his own lips. We kissed briefly, and then I burst into tears once more. He held me in his arms while I shed tears of loss and love. And eventually he just held me.

I heard a small crunch and looked up. All I saw was his face, hurt, angry, confused . . . Harry's face.

It stumbled out of sight. I heard gasps, screams, and a loud bang. I caught one last glimpse of Harry, his emerald eyes filled with pain, before the world went black.

I awoke in darkness, broken only by a single, eerily glowing wand. I could barely see my own hand. Although this could be because it was tied to the other behind my back.

The light flickered upward for a second, and I would have gasped if it weren't for the fact that a rag tightly covered my mouth. Instead, I glowered into the inhuman face of Lord Voldemort.

"Awake at last, Miss Weasley."

It wasn't a question. His red slits that took place of true eyes were filled with a deep, burning hatred. His thin lips formed into a cruel smile.

"Wormtail! Start a fire! Miss Weasley must be feeling . . . cold,"

If I had been able to speak, you would bet that I would be on my feet, shouting about how he was the cold one, about how much I'd like to set him on fire . . .

But of course I couldn't, and the fire was a help. Now I could see the scenario in front of me.

There was a thin, rat-like, balding man, who must have been Wormtail, cowering at Voldemort's feet. He was weak, obviously. Probably the way Voldemort expected everyone to be like.

Harry was tied to a broken gravestone, his eyes boring into me with . . . I couldn't tell you. Oh, yes, we were in a graveyard somewhere. It was creepy, and you could almost feel the spirits rising around you.

And, seemingly free, Draco Malfoy stood beside me. No ropes bound him, but he did not run, or apparate. Perhaps he knew that if he tried, he would be killed.

"So . . . Potter. We've met many times in these past few years, have we not? Alas, I have yet to finally reach my goal. You know what it is, of course."

Harry didn't seem himself. Instead of passionate and ready to fight for himself and for the ones he loved, he seemed resigned and ready to give in. He nodded. Voldemort paced around the graveyard before speaking once more.

"Do you know the full contents of the prophecy?"

Harry did not look up, but nodded again. Voldemort paused.

"Tell me." He demanded.

And this time Harry shook his head.

Voldemort frowned. I don't know why; he can't have expected this to be so easy. I mean, obviously the prophecy was very important. I had just realized that it must be the one that broke in the Department of Mysteries. But how could Harry know the contents?

The hated wizard pulled out his long, yew wand and pointed it at me. "Tell me," he threatened. "Or you'll never see the girl again."

At last, Harry looked up. Those beautiful eyes were filled with bitterness as he spat, "Kill her, then,"

No! I thought. But Harry's head was back down. My eyes filled with tears. But . . . how could he hate me that much?

Voldemort advanced on me. Holding his wand up high, he hissed, "Crucio,"

It was as though I was in a world of fire. I couldn't breathe, I couldn't see. I didn't know anything except for this unimaginable pain that overcame me. Until, at last, it was over.

Tom Riddle stood over my shaking body. And I mean it looked like Tom Riddle. The one I remember coming from the diary.

But the image only stayed a second before it flickered out and all I could see was Voldemort.

I gazed past him to look at Harry. His head was down, but I thought he might be crying.

"Malfoy!" Voldemort's cold voice pierced through the air. "Untie that rag around her mouth. Let her speak!"

I watched in horror as Draco, my Draco, bent down to heed his orders. As he finished, our eyes met, and in his I saw weakness and sorrow.

I only wished my hands were also untied so that I could have slapped him. But there were more important things now.

"Harry," I pleaded. "Harry, I love you. I thought we could never be, so I tried to move on, but don't you see? I can't move on, because I love you so much that I would die for you, and—"

But when he looked me in the eyes, I knew enough was said by only that one glance.

"I love you too," he replied simply.

It was all I needed.

"Ah, young love. Such a thing for the last moments of one's life." Voldemort turned on Harry, wand at the ready. "Potter, the prophecy doesn't matter to me now. All that matters is that you die, now. So here you are, pitiful and weak. Here is Harry Potter, the great Chosen One. And this is how your life shall end. Avada Kedavra!"

But just at that moment, the strangest thing happened. Voldemort's servant, Wormtail, jumped out in front of the wand and crumpled in the dirt.

"He still owed me his life," Harry stared at the dead body in front of him. "But it was no use."

"That is correct," Voldemort sneered. "Because this useless piece of slime didn't love you, did he now? So I'm still going to kill you."

And as he shouted the death curse, Harry found me once more. And I thought I heard him whisper something.

"I love you,"

And so two dead bodies lay limp on the ground. My eyes welled up, and Voldemort laughed. Oh, how he laughed. The iciness of it filled my bones. I shivered.

"Now isn't this just perfect," he taunted. "At last, he is dead. And I am the most powerful wizard of them all! And are you ready for the icing on the cake, blood traitor?" he turned to me. "The one who gave me the whereabouts to Potter . . . why, that was none other than your "other love", Draco Malfoy."

My head spun . . . literally. To face Draco, I mean. And I knew it must be true.

"Ginny," he implored. "I never meant to. He said he'd kill me—"

"And that I shall," Voldemort taunted. "You are of no worth to me now."

"Ginny, I love you—"

"Well I don't love you," I lied. Oh, I hated him, but that doesn't mean I didn't love him, since everyone knows that the opposite of love is indifference, not hatred. "I never loved you. I was just using you to . . . to satisfy me. For all I care, you can burn in hell forever,"

And that was the last thing I ever said to him. I never saw him die, but was taken away by a mystery hand . . .