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Author: rich.sanidad Story: One Blink Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-DH Status: Completed Warning: Character's Death, Extreme Language Reviews: 9 Words: 56,312
Harry was numb. He had to be, or he would have gone mad. Even with the failed attempt at reaching an understanding with Ginny, the evening had begun with much promise, but had become a nightmare from which he could not wake. He did not know how long he had been sitting there outside of the hospital wing, the cold hardness of the castle's stonework behind him and under him. Too much had happened in only a few short hours, and his mind could barely grasp the fleeting images of terrible memories before it had to let go again, or be pulled into the growing emptiness they were creating within him. He could almost hear Ron and Ginny's screams shortly after he arrived at the hospital wing. It was horrifyingly vivid, and he hoped desperately it would fade with time. He could recall being rooted to the floor as the two siblings held each other, wishing he had it in him to walk over and comfort them, but he was barely holding on as it was with the comfort he was deriving from the hand that was grasping his. He remembered Madam Pomfrey rushing out of the hospital wing, and moments later, being pushed aside by Mrs. Weasley as she rushed to Bill's side—a few minutes too late to say goodbye. He had looked down in despair as the rest of the Weasleys followed after her catatonically, already mired in the numbness in which he now found himself. And he remembered Fleur, walking in last, her face like a marble mask, trying to maintain her dignity, but betrayed by tears rolling helplessly down her cheeks. He stood there watching them mourn, and then the same gentle pressure on his hand that had guided him away from Dumbledore's body led him back out the doors he had entered only a few minutes before. "They'll be able to see the Thestrals now," said a voice in front of him. Harry looked up from the spot on the floor that he had been staring at since he sat down. He looked at Luna, seeing her dishevelled hair and torn clothes, but not fully comprehending her presence. And then, slowly, more memories started seeping into his mind. Sitting on the grass by the base of the Astronomy Tower. Hagrid sobbing helplessly next to him, before Luna helped him to his feet. Luna gently leading him away from Dumbledore's body. Luna's calming presence in the hospital wing at the moment Bill passed on. "Why... why did you bring me here?" said Harry tonelessly. He blinked. Where had that question come from? He probably had not spoken a single word in the past hour. "Ginny would have come for you herself, but she was... preoccupied. But I knew she wanted to see you as soon as possible. She'd been worried about you all night." Harry nodded as if he had expected that response, when in fact the opposite was true. "I've treated her horribly of late," he said after a difficult pause. Luna shook her head. "Not necessarily. But you haven't been totally honest with her either, have you?" Harry stared at her. Inside, he was struggling with how Luna knew so much about him and his feelings for Ginny and whether he should try to refute her statement. "It doesn't matter now," he said, almost whispering. "I... I can't be with her." Harry looked up, expecting Luna to object. Instead, her large blue eyes were looking at him dolefully, and her mouth formed a sad little smile. They looked at each other for a few minutes. Nothing was said, and yet for the first time in weeks Harry felt as if someone understood him. "Please don't give up on Gi—" Luna's request was interrupted by the sounds of footsteps coming down the hallway. They both turned their heads in anxious anticipation towards the tapping of shoes upon flagstone. When the unexpected visitor finally turned the corner, the familiar figure of Hermione came into view. "Harry! Are you all right?" She rushed to him as she said this. "I'm fine," he replied automatically. She ignored this and looked him over. "I said I was—" "'...fine.' I heard you. I've also known you long enough to know what it really means." "Where have you been, anyway?" "With Professor McGonagall. She had a lot of questions that I tried to answer as carefully as possible. But she wants to talk to you anyway." Harry nodded. "Thanks, but she's right. She needs to hear things from me." He stood up and took a few steps in the direction from which Hermione had come and stopped. He started to turn his head to look back at the door of the hospital wing, but stopped when his chin touched his shoulder. He opened his mouth as if he were about to speak, but nothing came out. "Professor McGonagall will probably understand if you don't go to see her right away," said Luna encouragingly. The look on Hermione's face showed that she agreed with the other girl. Harry lifted his head a bit to stare at the barrier between him and the Weasleys... and then turned and continued walking down the hall to the headmistress' office. He had never felt less like a Gryffindor, but he had dealt with enough death for one night. * A few days later, Harry was squinting from the sunlight of a bright clear day, a bitter reminder that although Bill and Dumbledore were gone, time marched forward and the world had moved on. In a way, Harry might have preferred another bout of rainy weather like the one they had had a few weeks ago. Maybe fewer people—only those who were closest to Professor Dumbledore and Bill—would have shown up for the memorial service to pay their respects. It was a selfish thought, but he couldn't help himself. He hated situations that drew attention to him, and today was no different. Upon the completion of an unusual dirge by the merpeople, Professor Vector's solemn voice brought Harry out of his reverie. "It is time." Hagrid sniffed loudly and began to walk down the aisle. Professor Dumbledore's body, wrapped in a magnificent purple cloth decorated with golden stars, was cradled in his arms. Behind him, five red-headed young men and Harry aimed their wands in unison and levitated the white coffin that contained the late William Arthur Weasley. After Hagrid had shuffled down the aisle a comfortable distance, they began to follow in his footsteps. In all honesty, Harry had been quite surprised to see Percy come for the funeral, considering he had not spoken to his family since Christmas, when he had accompanied Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister of Magic, to the Burrow. As far as Harry knew, no progress had been made in reconciling him with the family since that visit. On the other hand, few things could bring a family together like tragedy. Or, was Percy only here for appearances? Harry would have to discuss it with Ron later. He certainly was not going to ask Percy directly—especially not today. With each step, Harry could not help but notice the hushed whispers and indignant stares sprinkled throughout the seated crowd. A glint of sunlight helped him find Rita Skeeter's signature glasses. In the row in front of her, a hideous black bow indicated the presence of Dolores Umbridge. He bit the inside of his cheek trying to keep a lid on his anger. This was exactly why he had initially tried to refuse the request to be a pallbearer. But when he saw the pain behind Mrs. Weasley's eyes and heard the sadness in Mr. Weasley's impassioned "Please," he stopped the words from coming out of his mouth and just nodded his head. Sighing inwardly, he lowered his eyes to a spot in the middle of Fred's back and continued to walk. When they reached the end of the aisle, Hagrid gently placed Dumbledore's body on a long white table, and then retreated to the rear of the audience. Several onlookers scoffed indignantly when Hagrid blew his nose on what appeared to be a tablecloth, but Harry smiled inwardly, knowing Dumbledore would have been touched at the half-giant's affection. Harry and the Weasley brothers then placed Bill's coffin on the ground in front of the table. As the oldest remaining sibling, Charlie led them to the first row of chairs, which had been reserved for the Weasley family. Harry had been uncomfortable with the idea of being placed with them, but had suppressed that objection as well, not wanting to make things any more difficult than they already were. He kept his eyes cast downward as an old wizard with tufty hair spoke about such things as "noble sacrifice" and "uncommon bravery." The words felt hollow to him and he felt for the fake locket in the pocket of his trousers. Losing his mentor and his best friend's brother on the same night, and having nothing to show for it stung more painfully than he could describe. It fed a slow-burning, yet intense heat at the core of his being. The growling monster in his chest that was his love and affection for Ginny was silent, replaced by this smouldering fury, barely controlled by a cold determination to finish Voldemort... at all costs. It was all he could do to sit still, and he forced himself to think of other things, like reciting the twelve uses of dragon blood, until the service had ended. In time, the old wizard completed his speech, immediately followed by final tributes from the merpeople and the centaurs. The crowd gasped as a huge bonfire appeared out of nowhere, engulfing both the table upon which Dumbledore's body rested and Bill's coffin. As quickly as it had come, the fire was gone, and where the table had stood was a gleaming tomb of perfect white stone. Bill's coffin was gone, but the old wizard calmly explained that it had been magically transported to the family's chosen resting place. A private memorial would take place tomorrow morning. As the wizard who had spoken so eloquently came down the dais to speak to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley, Harry's eyes fell on Ginny, who had also risen when her parents stood. He sighed inwardly, trying to quell his ever-present longing for a normal life. It was just as well that he never acted on his feelings. How painful would it have been to have a taste of normalcy and then be forced to set it aside for his mission? For that was what it was—a mission. This was not a fabulous quest based on nobility or chivalry. Nor was it a simple chore to be completed at his leisure. There was so much riding on what he was about to do. If he failed, more people that he cared about would get hurt. He could feel his rage simmering as he looked at Ron and Ginny, who were shaking hands with some people he did not recognise. The idea that those he loved would suffer even more hardened something within him. The time for childish whims was over. Harry stood up wordlessly and began walking toward the lake. The Weasleys were graciously accepting more condolences from other attendees, and he could not bear to watch. Hermione called out half-heartedly to him, but he ignored it. He had things to do. There was a noise behind him, but he did not turn around. He knew who it was. As he expected, Scrimgeour was following him. * Ginny silently stared out the window of the train, futilely trying not to think about Bill. The funeral had only finished a few hours ago, and she was still lost in a haze, reacting to things around her when necessary, but not really living. She had not shaken herself out of the listlessness that had taken her over since that terrible night, and the mood of the funeral had only served to bury her deeper into its numbing embrace. She had spent the duration of the train ride alternatively reminiscing about Bill and pretending that he wasn't really gone. Every time his image entered her mind, she was newly consumed with guilt. Maybe she should have drunk the entire dose of Felix Felicis as Harry had requested—maybe Bill would still be alive. But would that mean that Luna would have been injured—or worse—instead? Would she really swap Luna's safety to get Bill back if she could? Ginny shook her head, trying to clear it of such confusing thoughts. Was this what Harry had felt like after he lost Sirius? She had a newfound respect for him and his ability to persevere through all of the misfortune that had befallen him. It was just one more reason to get him alone for a long overdue talk. As she turned from the window, she saw Ron hunched over, elbows on his knees, hands entwined and staring at the floor. As she spared a few thoughts for her youngest brother, she realised that he had lost much of the boyish exuberance that she had always enjoyed about him. The light behind his eyes was dimmer and she wondered sadly if there was anything that would ever bring it back. "Knut for your thoughts?" she said, trying to sound casual. Ron looked up at her, his mouth not quite shaped into a smile. "Mine aren't worth that much," he said after a few moments, a sad grin barely breaking through. "Try me." "Well... I was thinking about Bill..." Ginny nodded patiently. "I was thinking..." continued Ron, "about the last things he said to us... do you remember?" "How could I forget?' she replied softly... "Nothing gold can stay," said Bill in an achingly quiet voice. "What was that?" asked Ron. "Nothing," replied Bill. But Ginny had heard him. It was a line from a Muggle film he had once seen when he was younger. He had run off into town one Saturday afternoon and sneaked into the cinema to watch it, because he had no Muggle money. When he came home, he pulled Charlie out to the orchard and excitedly told him all about it, neither aware that their precocious little sister was eavesdropping from the branches of a nearby tree. When Bill described the end of the film and how one of the characters had died—bravely, but tragically young—the two brothers made a pact to live their lives as fully as possible. When Bill had taken up curse-breaking and Charlie his love of dragons, Ginny just covered her mouth and smiled at her mother's disbelief. At the moment, her face was still half-buried in Ron's chest. She was torn between facing her oldest brother while he talked to them and hiding from the evidence of her failure to protect him. She steeled herself and turned her head towards him, biting her lip to hold in a gasp when she took in his injuries in greater detail. He looked as if he had been attacked by an animal—and in a way, he had been. She pondered the quote from the Muggle film that Bill had just spoken, and the thought that he might not have much longer to live slammed into her with stark brutality. She shut her eyes tightly to hold back tears. Surely, he wasn't preparing to say goodbye. Madam Pomfrey could heal him... couldn't she? "You know, I'm not afraid of what's going to happen next." "What are trying to say?" said Ron forlornly. "I won't lie to you. I don't think I have much time—" "Don't say that!" cried Ginny, turning slightly towards him. "Please... now is not the time for arguments." Ginny buried her face into Ron's chest again. "All right then, I'll start with you," said Bill, making eye contact with Ron. "It's just as well that you're the only brother here. I don't think anyone else would be able to handle this as well as you." "What are you talking about? Charlie should be here instead of me—you two..." Bill shook his head. "No. There are some things he can't handle as well as you. You've grown into your own man now—a strong one—and I need you to show that strength now." Ron sighed as he lowered his gaze to his brother's chest. Several moments passed. Ginny loosened her hold on Ron as she heard his heartbeat slow. When he looked back up to meet Bill's eyes, his lips were pressed together tightly, but his eyes were steady. "Thank you." Ron nodded once reluctantly. "Get on with it." "Mum and Dad... the rest of the boys—especially Percy—they need to know... You need to remind them that... that I knew what I was getting into when I joined the Order—that I accepted the risks. They need to know that even at this moment, I don't... I don't regret anything." Ron nodded, but his resolve was threatening to fail him. "And there's something else I need to say to the two of you." Despite her desire to avoid looking at him, Ginny turned to Bill and said, "Us?" "Yes... I missed quite a lot of you two growing up the past few years... and since I've come back I've been trying to work out how to be a part of your lives again." He paused to take a deep breath. "It's been difficult because you two have been here at Hogwarts, but also because neither of you are anything like the runts I left behind all those years ago." Ron seemed to stand up straighter as if to emphasize his ever-increasing lankiness. Ginny suppressed a smile, but tightened her hold around his waist. "Each of you has a wonderful opportunity for something that I won't have." "Bill..." "Please, Ginny, let me finish." His eyes found Ron's again. He took another deep breath and said, "You need to tell her." "Wh—" "Don't play at being thick—not now... please, not now." Bill's breathing was becoming more laboured. Ron pursed his lips tightly as he looked downwards. He closed his eyes and took a couple of deep breaths of his own. "Ron." The young man looked back up at his brother. "As brilliant as she is, she's still not sure about how you feel. You need to let her know. Make the most of the opportunity I'll never have with Fleur... understand?" The strong façade Ron had been putting up finally crumbled. As he nodded, acknowledging his brother's request, hot tears rolled down his cheeks. He did not bother wiping them away and tightened his hold on his sister. "And, Ginny..." The youngest Weasley only buried herself further into Ron's chest, shaking her head as she did so. "Ginevra." Bill's voice was firm, and for a moment Ginny thought that he had stopped getting weaker. But when she turned to look at him, she almost drowned in her disappointment. His eyes were tightly shut and his breathing was quicker and shorter than it had been earlier. "Bill!" He took a few more breaths and then opened his eyes again. "Sorry. The pain is getting worse." Ginny was crying freely now, all pretence of strength forgotten. "In a way you were wrong about Harry..." Bill's voice was raspy and strained. "What do you mean?" Ginny finally let go of Ron and stepped closer to Bill, taking his hand into hers. "He's actually better than everything you imagined when you were younger. Don't give up on him... You two could be so good... together..." "Bill, please... hang on a bit longer. Mum and Dad—" "Tell Fleur..." "Bill, please..." "... I..." And then he closed his eyes forever. Ron shouted something. And then Ginny was yelling too, pleading and begging to ears that no longer heard her. Ginny wiped her eyes as she finally resurfaced from the memory. She looked away as Ron did the same. She was just thinking that she could not imagine ever being able to relive that night without crying when a stoic Hermione entered the compartment. "That was my last patrol," she said wearily as she flopped onto the space next to Ron. "The Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws are scheduled to cover the rest of the trip." Ron nodded absent-mindedly. The three friends sat in silence, until Ginny noticed Ron sit up a little straighter. He made eye contact with Ginny, and she instantly knew what he was thinking. She nodded to him in encouragement, recognising the truth in what Bill had said that night. For better or for worse, he was his own man now, one that she was proud to call her brother. There was an even greater darkness looming over the horizon, and Ron would be with Harry when it came. Of that, she had no doubt. Ron looked to Hermione and swallowed, trying to steady his voice. "Can... can we go somewhere and talk?" Hermione looked at him with a confused, but curious look. But she found her voice and said, "Of course." Ron stood up, and as he made to open the door for Hermione, she made eye contact with Ginny and silently mouthed, "What's going on?" But Ginny only smiled at her and tipped her head towards her brother once as if to say, "Go on. You won't be disappointed." Hermione frowned back, but smoothed her face quickly when Ron offered his hand to her. After the couple closed the door behind them, Ginny took a deep breath... and then another one. Ron had finally found the courage to pursue his heart's wish and it was time for her to do the same. She thought about Harry's funny little smile, the one that rarely came out and seemed to be growing even scarcer every day. She thought about his integrity and how he had developed such a strong moral character despite all he had endured. And she thought about his heart and how much he tried to protect those he loved regardless of the danger to himself. She closed her eyes and thanked Bill for helping her realise how short life really was, and then she stood up and left the compartment, eager to find Harry and be the woman her eleven-year-old self always wanted to be. * Two hours later, Ginny was frustrated, tired and quite sore-footed. One of Harry's exceptional traits that she had neglected to ponder was his cleverness. Between that and his Invisibility Cloak, she should not have been surprised to find no trace of him anywhere on the train. She had spent the last hour recruiting various members of the DA to keep an eye out for their erstwhile leader when she had finally worked out why she could not find him. And after accidentally barging in on Ron and Hermione (apparently Lavender was not solely to blame for their infamous public displays of affection), she was more than ready to take a break and think of a better way to find Harry. She had just sat down when there was a knock at the door. "Ginny? It's me, Dean." She looked at the door in confusion. They hadn't spoken in weeks. What could he possibly want? "Can I come in?" Ginny nodded before she realized that Dean couldn't see her through the drawn window coverings. "Yes... er... come in." As he entered, Dean gave her a sheepish smile and then sat down across from her. Once he was comfortable, he opened his mouth to speak but froze without saying anything. Ginny recognized the look of captivation in his eyes but only offered him a wan smile. The days when she giggled inside at his affection were long gone. "Something on your mind, Dean?" she said casually, trying to draw his attention away from her. Dean shook his head a little, and she saw the glazed look leave his eyes. "Right... er... not that I'm ungrateful for the chance to talk to you alone, but should you really be in here alone—after everything that's happened?" Ginny shrugged her shoulders. "The train isn't even half full since so many students went home before the funeral. Without Malfoy to lead them, the remaining Slytherins are practically fangless. Besides, Neville and Luna are just next door. And, Ron's in the compartment next to them." "You mean Ron and Hermione?" A warm yet mischievous smile broke out on Ginny's face. "Yes, you're right. Ron and Hermione are in that compartment." "So, he finally made a move then?" "Yes. Did you barge in on them too?" Dean nodded, and they both shuddered involuntarily, after which they shared a comfortable laugh. "So, where's Harry then? I guess I can understand why he wouldn't be with Ron and Hermione, but why wouldn't he be here with you?" Ginny blinked at the suggestion. "What do you mean? Why do you think he would be in here?" "Well, he sat with your family at the funeral. And he..." Dean frowned, reluctant to continue. "Yes?" Dean suddenly looked quite uncomfortable. "Well, he's always been the one for you, hasn't he?" Ginny could only imagine what the look of shock on her face at that moment looked like. Dean broke eye contact and looked at a spot on the floor before continuing. "Before you and I started seeing each other, you told me that there was nothing going on between you two—" "There wasn't!" "Yes, I know..." Dean replied calmly. "But that doesn't mean you didn't wish it were otherwise." It was Ginny's turn to stare at the floor. She felt like she should say something, but everything she thought of sounded awkward in her mind. "I... I really did like you..." "I know." His voice had an odd tone to it that was a bizarre mix of kindness and longing. "But there were times when you couldn't help yourself... from looking for him when you entered a room... or from frowning when you were worried about him..." Ginny continued to avoid Dean's eyes, shame putting colour into her cheeks. "And then after we broke up, the two of you started to spend more time together. I thought you were finally going to get your wish to be with him." Ginny couldn't speak. Tears started to form in her eyes, and she bit her bottom lip to hold them in. She could tell he wasn't trying to be cruel, but it didn't make his words any less difficult to hear. "I'll admit that part of me was jealous as hell. But there was another part of me that was genuinely happy for you." Ginny looked up, surprise once again dominating her features. "What did you say?" Dean gave her a small smile and said, "You heard me. You're an amazing girl, Ginny Weasley. As hard as this is to believe, I would very much like to see you happy... even if it's not with me." Ginny was touched, instantly forgiving him for the temporary torture he had subjected her to just a few minutes before. "I... I just thought you ought to know how I felt," he continued. "After losing... them... well... I realised that life is short—too short. I didn't want to chance not telling you before... well, before something else happened." Ginny looked at him anxiously. "Is there something you're not telling me?" "No, no... nothing like that. But we don't even know if Hogwarts is going to reopen in a few months. Who knows when we'll see each other again?" Ginny nodded in response. She looked down at the floor momentarily and reached over to take his hands into her own. "I'm sorry I can't offer you more than friendship." "Don't be. I'll always consider it an honour to be your friend." They looked at each other and smiled, comfortable in the new relationship they had just forged. Neither noticed the longing gaze of two bright green eyes through the open crack of the compartment door. * After a few minutes of idle talk, Dean noticed Ginny stifle a yawn. He smiled to himself as he stood up. "You'll be all right?" "I'll be fine," she said with a dismissive wave of her hand. "Stop worrying." "Can't. It's in my nature to worry about my friends." Dean smirked as he said this. "Prat," said Ginny, smiling as she did so. "Seriously, though. I'll be in the compartment across the way. Go ahead and take a kip." "How did you—" "You clench your jaw and look to the left when you're trying not to yawn." Ginny smiled warmly at him. "Thanks." "Don't mention it. See you around." It felt as if she had just closed her eyes when Ron burst through her compartment door. "There you are!" "Sorry?" Ginny sat up and rubbed her eyes. "Everyone's outside waiting for you." Everyone? Ginny's mind suddenly cleared and she jumped to her feet, hoping for a chance to talk to Harry before he was whisked away to Surrey. "Ron, please take my trunk. I need to go." "But—" "Just do it!" she said, and she bolted out of the compartment. As soon as Ginny stepped off the train, she searched the platform, desperately hoping that Harry was among the "everyone" Ron had mentioned earlier. But all she could see in front of her was a small sea of redheads. "There you are!" said her mother. "You had me—" "Sorry, Mum, but I need to—" Ginny stopped speaking when she finally saw the messy nest of black hair she had been searching for. He was heading for the barrier back to the Muggle section of King's Cross, back to those wretched people he was related to. And without even thinking about what her mother was yelling at her, Ginny began to run. As she weaved through the crowd, she could not help but wish she had her broom. If ever there was a time when she should have thrown caution to the wind to get something done, this was it. She ignored calls for her attention from friends and schoolmates, keeping her eyes on her target, who was slipping farther and farther away despite her best efforts. "Harry! HARRY!" she called out to him. While several annoyed people gave her scathing looks at disturbing their conversations, he did not turn around. He wasn't so far away that he couldn't hear her, was he? Finally, she reached the edge of the crowd. Now there was no one between her and Harry. But he had finally reached the barrier, and without turning around, without a word, without a chance to finally learn what Ginny felt in her heart for him... he was gone. Author's Note: The "Muggle film" that quotes "Nothing Gold Can Stay" by Robert Frost is "The Outsiders" (1983).
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