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“ Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!”
“No!”
Ginny Weasley sat bolt upright in her four-poster bed. Sun streamed through the open window and a small breeze fluttered the hangings around her bed. Her heart hammered deep into her chest, like a thousand dull knives trying to stab, but only able to bruise. She clutched her throat - trying to slow her breathing and steady her heart.
“Ginny?” a soft voice drifted through the hangings, “Ginny are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” Ginny replied back, gulping in more air.
“Are you sure? I heard screaming,” the voice said.
The hangings slowly pulled back revealing a very tired, very battered Hermione Granger. She smelled like a campfire and was covered in cuts and bruises. Her brown curly hair was knotted and sweaty. Her jeans were torn and her shirt singed, but, she was smiling. Ginny wasn’t sure the last time she’d seen a smile; she wasn’t sure she herself could smile again. Ginny pulled herself into a sitting position, wondering when she’d changed out of her blood stained clothes into clean pajamas.
“I’m quite alright, Hermione.”
Hermione frowned slightly, but her eyes were still shining, “No. No you’re not. But you will be. We all will be.”
And it all came crashing back. Harry, Ron, and Hermione returning to Hogwarts. The Order coming to fight. Spells being shot back and forth. Hogwarts crumbling from within, but also fighting back. Voldemort and his army of death swarming the castle. Fred. Remus. Tonks. Harry, dead. Harry, not dead. Bellatrix. And then Voldemort and Harry, facing each other in the Great Hall, where Ginny had eaten every meal during the school year with her friends. Voldemort falling. They’d won. The war was over.
Ginny’s heart slowed considerably as the night prior unfolded within her mind. It was over. Or was it over? How could they be sure? Was Voldemort really dead or would he come back once more? Would Harry always be looking over his shoulder? Would he carry the burden of the Wizarding World the rest of his life? Ginny knew very little about what Harry, Ron, and Hermione had gotten up to while she had been fighting the Carrows and Snape at Hogwarts. She vaguely knew that they’d been traveling the countryside hunting for various objects that would allow Voldemort to be defeated, presumably for good. But it all seemed too perfect and shiney for it to be true.
Hermione seated herself at the edge of Ginny’s bed, still looking at her with mild interest. She reached her hand forward as though to take Ginny’s had, but left it open a few inches from Ginny’s knee, waiting for permission to offer comfort. Ginny sighed and clasped Hermione’s hand, calloused, but warm. Hermione continued smiling at her silently, until Ginny couldn’t stop herself and smiled too. It was completely ridiculous. Her brother Fred had died less than 24 hours prior. They’d lost both Remus and Tonks, who had left behind baby Teddy. Several of her classmates, not even of age, had perished. Colin Creevey, a 6th year Ravenclaw whose name she didn’t know. All the Muggleborn students who’d foolishly gone to the Ministry and registered. They might have won, but they’d lost so much. And here she and Hermione were smiling in the middle of her dormitory, with the sun shining and promising excellent weather for Quidditch.
“Why are you smiling?” Ginny asked finally.
“It’s over.”
“Is it?” Ginny whispered, almost afraid to ask.
“Yes.”
“But,” began Ginny, “how can you be sure?”
Hermione smiled widely, “Oh, you’ll have to talk to Harry about that.”
Harry - the boy, who was really more of a man at this point, that Ginny had spent most of her time at Hogwarts trying not to think about. During the day it had been easy, like when the DA was planning some stupid prank to mess with the Carrows or had been saving first and second years from the Cruciatus curse. Somehow, Ginny had been able to throw all her thoughts and emotions into the task at hand. But, at night, she often found her thoughts drifting back to him. Sometimes she remembered their particularly happy, secluded afternoons last spring, when they’d just started going out. Ginny still had a hard time believing that there was a brief time when her childhood crush had liked her, liked her enough to kiss her after they’d won the Quidditch cup in their common room full of people. Other times, she imagined what heroic and noble things he could be doing. And a few times, though she was loathe to admit this, she imagined what would happen if Harry didn’t succeed -- if he’d died and Voldemort continued his reign of terror. But when these particularly unhappy thoughts wandered into her mind, she clung to her mantra: no news is good news.
“He’s looking for you, you know?” Hermione continued when Ginny remained silent.
“Sorry, who?”
“Harry. Harry’s looking for you. It’s nearly past two. Your mum, of course, told us not to disturb you, but you should have seen Harry’s face anytime anyone walked down from the dorms. So, I came up here to check on you…” she trailed off looking guilty, “I didn’t wake you did I?”
“No,” Ginny said, “The nightmares did.”
Hermione sighed, “I imagine we’ll all have those for a while. Part of the reason I’m glad I haven’t gone to sleep yet.”
Ginny gave Hermione a scathing look, “You haven’t slept? Hermione - you’ve been up for what - over twenty-four hours at least.”
Hermione shrugged and nodded.
“Don’t make me get my mum, Hermione. That’s not healthy.”
“I know,” Hermione moaned, “But with all the excitement, how can I? Plus, Kingsley’s in a right state trying to salvage the Ministry, so I’ve been helping a bit with that. And then Ron wanted to walk around the castle…”
Ginny smirked at her.
“Oh, shut it. You’re as bad as Harry. Get dressed - I’ll wait for you outside and then we can get to lunch.”
Hermione exited the 6th year girls’ dormitory and closed the door with a soft click. Ginny rummaged through her wardrobe, which luckily had been untouched since she’d left for the Easter holidays. She found a pair of jeans that seemed clean and a cozy blue sweater, which seemed antithetical to the weather outside, but she needed some comfort. She paused before opening her dormitory door. This was it, time to face what was left of her world, time to put back the pieces, one by one, no matter how long it took.
Hermione, as promised, was waiting for her at the top of the stairs that led to the Gryffindor common room.
“You’re a mess,” Ginny told her as they began walking down the stairs together, “You can borrow any of my things, you know… Or are you going to wear those clothes forever now?”
“Why would you think that? Yes, it’s all very exciting that Voldemort is gone, but -”
“Oh no,” said Ginny, and for the first time in a long time, she found herself giggling, “Because those are the clothes that you kissed Ron in for the first time.”
Turning to look at Hermione, Ginny almost lost all composure. Hermione simultaneously looked like she’d been hit over the head with a brick and swallowed a love potion.
“How...Who...Ginny!”
And with a cackle that was a little too timid to reach a full crescendo, Ginny skipped down the last few steps and bounded into the common room, with Hermione still sputtering behind her. Ginny’s shock of being in a good mood, a mood that allowed her to laugh and tease a girl she considered almost like a sister made her forget who was waiting for her in the common room.
The common room was practically deserted, which Ginny expected it to be. Most people would have left the castle by now - either to care for their dead and wounded or to search for missing friends and family. The others would be trying to round up the few Death Eaters who escaped capture during the Battle of Hogwarts, which Ginny had unceremoniously dubbed as she drifted off to sleep earlier that morning. And those remaining at Hogwarts, well, there was no way they couldn’t be outside on a day as glorious as this - Voldemort was defeated and the sun was sparkling. However, the best armchairs in front of the fire were occupied. One, by Ginny’s brother Ron, who looked equally as battered as Hermione. And the other by the Chosen One himself.
“Ginny.”
Her brown eyes met his green and she almost couldn’t breathe again.
“Harry,” she managed to choke out.
Somehow, though she wasn't sure how it was possible, he looked worse than both Ron and Hermione combined. His hair, that had grown more wild and out of control, was matted with sweat, dirt, and blood. He was in desperate need of a shave and his face was more cut and bruise than skin. His clothes, like her brother and Hermione’s, stank of soot and ash - she wondered where they had encountered a fire during the battle. But like Hermione, he was grinning. It was a nervous smile, but a smile all the same.
“Do you, uhm, care for a walk?”
Ron groaned and punched his arm.
“Or, lunch? Why don’t we all go grab lunch?”
“No,” Ginny said quickly, “A walk would be wonderful. It’s too nice out to stay indoors.”
Without waiting for Harry, Ginny clambered out of the portrait hole and began surveying the damage in the corridor that housed the Fat Lady. Scorch marks and crumbled walls seemed to exist every few feet. Her school, her home - just another casualty of war. She noticed a couple of house elves further down the corridor attempting to mend a shattered window. She wondered if the castle would be ready for school come September. Would she be ready?
“I still can’t believe it’s over,” Harry said behind her, “But I guess, when you see this...It makes it more real.”
“Is it really over?” Ginny asked again, still not fully believing Hermione.
“Yes,” breathed Harry, “It’s really over,Ginny. He’s gone. He’s never coming back.”
“How can you be sure?”
“I-Well, Dumbledore gave me a job to do,” he began.
“Yes, yes,” Ginny snapped impatiently, “I know that. I want the truth now.”
For all the times Ginny had allowed herself to imagine she and Harry reuniting after the defeat of Voldemort, which were unfortunately fewer than the times she imagined him dead, she never imagined it happening like this. Usually it involved the two of them not talking. She was full of joy and her heart felt like fireworks. But now, she felt as though she was going to be sick. While her body was full of a golden hum, thrilled that the world was finally safe, there was a pit in her stomach that dared not allow her to believe that Voldemort was really gone. And her heart ached for Fred and the rest of her family; for all the losses they’d suffered the last few years. And then there was Harry. A sliver of her heart felt hopeful that they’d be able to pick-up right where they’d left off last spring. But her head knew that that wouldn’t be possible. They were two different people now. And while Harry had done his fair share saving the Wizarding World, Ginny knew he wouldn’t stop until the Ministry was fixed and every Death Eater was in Azkaban.
But he’s here now, a small voice that sounded awfully like Hermione whispered.
Harry’s next words jerked her from her reverie, “I want to tell you. I want to tell you everything.”
“But,” Ginny began for him.
“But not here.”
Not quite what Ginny had been expecting, “Where then?”
“Fancy a fly?”
Again, not what Ginny was expecting, “Hasn’t the Quidditch pitch been burned to the ground?” she asked smirking a little.
“I reckon it has, but we don’t need a pitch just to fly. Do they still keep the school brooms in Hooch’s office. I haven’t got my Firebolt, I lost it when...when the Order picked me up from Number 4.”
The Night Mad-Eye died. The Night George lost an ear. The Night that Ginny cried herself to sleep, because she’d been so close to losing too many of her brothers and Harry.
“Yes. Shall we head there now? My broom’s at the burrow, so I’ll need to borrow one too.”
And the two of them strode down the demolished corridors of Hogwarts as though this was a perfectly normal thing to be doing after the dark haired wizard had defeated one of the most evil wizards that’d ever lived and the red haired witch had lost her brother. Ginny felt Harry shuffling his hands besides her. She wondered if he was trying to reach out to her, but every time she stole a glance at him he seemed to be brushing dirt and rubble from his jeans. It seemed a pointless task, really. Ginny doubted Molly Weasley herself could get the stains out of Harry’s clothes once they were all back at the burrow. Well, assuming Harry came back with them.
Of course he’s coming back , Ginny though, in again a voice very similar to Hermione’s, Where else would he go?
A few stragglers lingering in the entrance hall gave the pair quizzical looks, but no one dared approach. No one even dared speak. Still, the two hurried out onto the grounds before anyone could follow them. As the two of them started their trek towards the Quidditch pitch, where Madam Hooch’s office was located, Ginny wondered where they were keeping the bodies. For a while they’d been in the Great Hall, but if people were eating there now, they must have been moved. Perhaps they were back with their families.
But what if we can’t find their families? What if their families are also dead?
Ginny didn’t even dare think about where Fred’s body was.
Harry and Ginny’s first sight of the Quidditch pitch almost broke Ginny, almost. She fought hard against her tears that threatened to spill over. Her throat was on fire and it felt like she was swallowing stones as she tried to keep her breathe under control. The stands, well, what remained of the stands, were blackened from enchanted fire and other parts were still smoking. Ginny wondered again whether the school would be ready come September. Ginny could feel Harry tense up besides her. She could already hear his mind whirring as he tried to take blame for the damage to their beloved pitch. Instinctively, her hand reached for his. Ginny was almost surprised at how familiar this felt. His hands were still unnaturally warm, still calloused. Ginny felt Harry’s thumb stroke the back of her freckled hand.
Without speaking they moved towards Hooch’s office, whose door had been blasted off its hinges. Harry squeezed Ginny’s hand twice and moved into the small, dark office. Miraculously, the office wasn’t destroyed. It seemed the door had been blasted off due to a rogue spell, rather than malicious intent to ransack it. Ginny hovered by the entrance, while Harry sorted through the school brooms. A few moments later, Harry handed her an older Comet 220, but held onto the far worse-for-wear Shooting Star. Without waiting for Harry, Ginny strode out onto the pitch, mounted her broom, and kicked off.
For a moment, a brief moment, but a moment nonetheless Ginny’s mind was wiped wistfully blank. She forgot about the bodies strewn across the castle and the grounds. She forgot about being tortured by the Carrows for the last year. She forgot about Tom. It was just her and the sky and one of the terrible school brooms. A few moments later, Harry pulled up besides her.
“When’s the last time you were on a broom?” asked Ginny, trying to think about the last time she had been - definitely before the Easter holidays.
“Last night,” Harry said, “Or early this morning?”
“Dive bombing Death Eaters were you?” asked Ginny, almost grinning.
“Er, no. Not quite.”
The two hovered in silence for a few minutes. Ginny thought they should have brought a snitch or a quaffle. She found that her hands need something more to do than grip her broom.
“Where’s Tom?” Ginny finally asked.
“He was moved early this morning to a secret location that only Kingsley knows. We’re, uhm, we’re still trying to figure out what to do with it,” Harry replied.
Ginny nodded, “And how did you do it?”
“Oh, I’m not sure, Kingsley handled all the details and logistics, he just let me know after -”
“No, how did you...finish him?” Ginny finished lamely, still not sure that was the right choice of words.
“Well you saw,” said Harry, “Er, I really didn’t do anything, I - ”
Ginny’s sigh interrupted him, “Only you Harry.”
“What?”
“Only you could defeat the most dangerous, most powerful dark wizard of all time and not take credit for it,” Ginny did actually grin now.
“Well I had a lot of help,” Harry said indignantly, “I couldn’t have done it without Ron, Hermione, and Neville, and, er, you.”
“Me? What on earth did I do?”
And Harry told her. He told her about her diary she kept when she was 11 not really being a diary at all (which Ginny had always suspected), but a bit of Tom’s soul, a Horcrux. He told her about the others - the six other bits of soul that Tom had ripped out of his body and hidden in objects; the ring, the locket, the cup, the diadem, and the snake. He told her about Dumbledore destroying the ring and his maimed hand. He told her about stealing the locket from Dolores Umbridge. He told her about the endless camping and Ron leaving. Ginny wanted to be angry with her brother, but found herself understanding. She found herself wondering if she would have stayed or if she would have left if she’d been invited on their adventure.
Harry told her about going to Godric’s Hollow. About Ron coming back and destroying the locket. About visiting Luna’s father. Ginny’s fingers tensed against her broom handle as Harry told her about their night in Malfoy Manor, about Hermione being tortured, about Dobby saving them, but losing his life in the process. Harry told her about breaking into Gringotts and about freeing the dragon. About Ron and Hermione destroying the cup. About the fiendfyre in the Room of Requirement destroying the diadem. Ginny smirked when Harry told her about saving Malfoy.
“Hang on,” said Ginny, shifting on her broom, interrupting Harry for the first time, “You said there were seven horcruxes, but you’ve only mentioned six, well five, but I was there when Neville killed the snake...unless, the seventh was in Tom?”
Harry grimaced and clenched his hands around his broom, looking anywhere but at Ginny. This was why Harry asked her for a fly. Whatever he was about to tell her, Ginny knew, didn’t sit well with him still. Ginny was surprised he’d gotten this far. Or perhaps, he was hoping she wouldn’t notice his omission.
“After Voldemort called his Death Eaters back, I, er, I watched Snape’s memories.”
“What? How did you get Snape’s memories?”
“He gave them to me, right before he died.”
Oh.
Ginny coughed. Her butt was starting to hurt from sitting on the school broom for so long, but she wanted to hear the rest of Harry’s story. And she had a feeling if she got him out of the air, she wouldn't hear it for a while.
“Go on,” Ginny prodded.
“Er, right. So I took Snape’s memories to Dumbledore’s pensieve and, well, he was always on our side. Well, not always, but he turned spy after Voldemort went after my parents. He, erm, well, he apparently was friends with my mum when they were kids and...loved her.”
“Ew,” said Ginny, trying to break the uncomfortable energy, “He’s still a arse though.”
Harry just stared at her.
“Oh,” Ginny clapped her hands over her mouth, her broom falling a few feet, “That was horrible. He’s, well, he’s dead. And I - oh, I’m sorry.”
Harry shook his head, chuckling a little as Ginny brought her broom back to his level.
“No, you’re right. He was horrible to us. But, he was on our side. Anyway, from Snape’s memories I learned...I learned…”
Harry trailed off and looked towards the Forbidden Forest, as though asking all the creatures living inside for the strength to say what he needed to say next. Ginny wanted to reach out and touch him, provide him with some comfort, to remind him that it was just her and she’d never judge him for what he was about to say next. But, she also didn’t want to startle him. He seemed to be in his own world. He eventually took a deep breath and turned to face Ginny. His green eyes bore into her brown ones and even Ginny, who’d never been comfortable with eye contact, couldn’t look away. It was like he needed her eye contact to allow him to say what he said next.
“I was the seventh. I was the Horcrux he didn’t mean to make.”
Ginny gasped, but Harry didn’t leave any room for her to say anything.
“His soul was so unstable, from being split so many times, after he tried to kill me, a bit of his soul latched onto the only living thing in the room. That’s why I could hear his thoughts, see him, sometimes.”
Ginny nodded, but couldn’t bring herself to ask the next question. Luckily, Harry answered for her.
“So, I went to the forest to, er, die. I walked past you, you know? In the invisibility cloak. You were helping someone. I wanted to yell, let you know I was there. But, I knew if I did that, I couldn’t, go on.”
Ginny nodded slowly. She remembered being out on the grounds, assisting the injured. What if he had called out to her, told her what he was planning on doing? Ginny was sure, even now, that she wouldn’t have let him. She would have clung to him; she would have used every ounce of strength in her small body to keep him there. But where would they be now if that had happened? Did that make her a coward, not wanting Harry to do what must be done? She thought back to that moment, as she was helping the 7th year Hufflepuff who just wanted to go home, when she felt as though she was being watched, but no one had been there. Of course it had been Harry.
“I saw my parents too. Dumbledore left me the Resurrection Stone, you know from The Tale of the Three Brothers? So they walked with me, to face him. I put my wand away and showed myself.”
“And then you waited to die,” finished Ginny, “But you didn’t die. You’re here,” Ginny began flying circles around him, as though she was checking his vitality.
Harry smiled at her, “Want to know what the last thing I thought of? Before I died?”
“But you didn’t die, Harry.”
Harry shrugged, “Do you?”
Ginny paused. Harry’s last thoughts before he died? That seemed incredibly private, like something Harry should hold onto until he met death again - hopefully not for many years. Why should she, little Ginny Weasley, deserve to hear these sacred thoughts? But, she found herself nodding - her curiosity getting the better of her.
“I thought about you. That determined look you get and…” Harry trailed off, blushing a little, “and kissing you.”
Ginny was so shocked at his words, that she almost fell off her broom.
“Your last thoughts, before you almost died, were of me?”
“Well who else would it be,” said Harry.
The air around them suddenly felt much thicker than it had when they’d first started flying. For the first time in her life, Ginny desperately wanted to get to the ground. Harry Potter’s last thoughts were of her? Of little Ginny Weasley? She couldn’t believe it. But then, she thought of those beautiful sunlit days they’d spent on the grounds for those fleeting few weeks. She remembered how happy she’d been sneaking around the castle with Harry under his invisibility cloak. She recalled how wonderful it was being Harry and Ginny. This year, her Harry had become Harry Potter again. She didn’t mean for it to happen, but it had. But, as Harry grinned at her behind his very dirty glasses, covered in cuts and bruises, Ginny remembered. He may have defeated one of the darkest, most dangerous wizards of all time, but, underneath it all, he was still just Harry. Her Harry.
“I don’t know,” said Ginny slyly, “What about all the Veelas you met on your little camping trip?”
Harry spluttered, “I-there weren’t-I was Undesirable Number One, Ginny! I had less than zero dating opportunities.”
Ginny smirked at him, trying to contain her laughter. She maneuvered her broom so that she was floating right in front of him. If she turned her head towards him, their noses would be only inches away.
“Besides,” said Harry quietly, “It’s not like I would have wanted any of them anyway. Not when you’re you.”
Ginny kept smirking.
“When we were searching for the Horcruxes, I’d, er, I’d sometimes pull the map out and stare at your dot,” he confessed.
Ginny turned towards him, her smirk turning into a sheepish smile, “Last term, they papered the walls with your wanted posters. Romilda Vane stole one and charmed it to say, ‘Desirable Number One.’”
Harry snorted.
“I confiscated it, of course. Didn’t want the Carrows to give us any more trouble. But, erm,” and now Ginny blushed, “I kept it.”
Harry grinned, “We’re the worst.”
Ginny laughed, “Absolutely disgusting, the pair of us.”
And then, without thinking Ginny closed the gap between them and kissed him. Harry seemed a little startled at first and the two of them dropped a couple of feet in the air. But, once he got his bearings he responded enthusiastically. Kissing Harry was like coming home from a grand adventure. Her heart hammered, but the adrenaline coursing through her body was a comfort more than a stressor. His hands wrapped around her waist and his chapped lips parted ever so slightly to deepen the kiss. Last year Ginny often wondered how Harry was such a good kisser without much experience. Sometimes she worried that he’d had more experience than he’d let on. But now, as the two of them floated above their destroyed, but still beloved Quidditch pitch, she knew why. Of course she couldn't explain it properly without sounding like an idiot, but she knew why.
Harry’s hands moved to her hair and his fingers wrapped around her knotted strands. Ginny’s arms wrapped around Harry’s neck. Harry’s tongue tentatively asked for permission, which Ginny more than happily granted - her stomach was full of that peculiar swooping sensation that seemed to only be triggered by flying and Harry. Ginny knew as they continued to kiss, that Harry’s story wasn’t over. She knew he had more to tell her and she knew that she’d eventually have to tell him what had been happening at Hogwarts. She knew they’d have to go back to the castle and mourn. She knew she’d eventually have to come to terms with Fred’s death. But right now, she needed to be selfish. And she needed this - this one ounce of sunshine, right now.
And after what felt like days, perhaps weeks, or even months, they broke apart. More rumpled and slightly out of breath, Harry and Ginny beamed at each other.
“What happens now?” asked Ginny.
“I haven’t the faintest idea. I didn’t really think I’d live past last night, did I?” said Harry, looking back to the Forbidden Forest.
Ginny sighed, “We’ve got time.”
Harry reached for her hand and squeezed, “Loads.”