PhoenixSong.net :: A Harry/Ginny Fanfic and Fanart Archive

Author: rich.sanidad

Story: One Blink

Part: 06: Godric's Hollow

Rating: Teens

Setting: Pre-DH

Status: Completed

Reviews: 4

Words: 5,575

Updated: May 31, 2009, 7:31pm

Printer Friendly Format

Chapter Navigation:

06: Godric's Hollow

“What are you doing here?”

From the battered old sofa opposite the fireplace, Ron’s only response was a muffled oath under his breath as he stood up and walked across the room to look out the window. Ginny turned in confusion to Hermione, who was still seated on the sofa.

“He’s... gone. And we have no idea where he is,” she said softly.

“Stupid git,” said Ron’s muffled voice from next to the window.

“Ron!” said Hermione.

“I wasn’t talking about him. I was talking about me.”

“I don’t understand,” said Ginny, who had grabbed the back of an armchair to help her remain standing.

Ron shook his head in frustration. “I—”

“We,” said Hermione.

“Fine. We should have seen this coming. After we—um... well... a couple months ago... he started acting strangely. It wasn’t that noticeable at first... but... it got worse...”

Ginny was about to ask her brother to clarify when Hermione chimed in. “Please don’t ask for details, Ginny.”

“How can you ask that of me?” she replied crossly as she turned to face her friend. “You, of all people, know how I feel about him. You can’t possibly expect me to hear you say you’ve lost him without my asking how it happened.”

“She’s right,” said Ron without turning from the window. “There are some things we can’t tell you.”

“Even now?”

“Especially now,” said Hermione softly.

Ginny eyed her in annoyance. The older girl noticed and furrowed her brow in concentration. After a couple of minutes, she began to speak.

“The reason he... abandoned us...” Hermione began, “was because he... he didn’t feel that he could trust us anymore. That’s why I feel like we can’t tell you anything. We won’t be able to face him when we find him again...”

“If we find him again,” said Ron under his breath.

“... if we betray his trust now—even if he would never know that we had done so.”

Ginny stared at her friend with a steely gaze, but Hermione remained silent. Eventually, the young redhead tried a different tack. “You do realise that not telling others will make it more difficult for you to find him—especially since you two can’t be seen in public at the moment.”

“If we’re ever going to have a chance of making things right, it will only happen if we find a way to earn back his trust.”

“And in the meantime, he’s out there trying to bring down You-Know-Who by himself.”

“It wasn’t our choice,” protested Ron.

“I don’t care!” said Ginny, her voice rising in volume. “I can’t lose him—not yet! We haven’t even—we don’t know if—”

Feeling herself beginning to lose control, she sat down where Ron had been sitting and covered her face with her hands. Hermione inched closer to her friend and put a comforting arm around her shoulders.

“At least when he left over the summer I knew he had you two looking after him,” said Ginny weakly, from behind her hands.

“We haven’t given up on him,” said Hermione as she stroked the younger girl’s shoulder. “We just haven’t worked out a way to find him again.”

“I know... I’m... I’m sorry,” said Ginny, as she brought herself under control and rubbed her eyes. “I just... I know what it’s like to have to face that kind of darkness alone.”

Both Ron and Hermione flinched slightly at the young woman’s words.

“So...” continued Ginny as she brought her head up to look at them again, “how long have you two been here?”

The two older teens grimaced. She looked at them in confusion when they did not reply immediately, and her mood progressively changed to anger as their silence grew longer.

“How long?” she repeated firmly.

“Almost four weeks,” admitted Hermione quietly.

“Four weeks!”

“It’s not our fault—”

“He’s been on his own for a whole month?”

“We tried to stop him from leaving.”

“But there were two of you!”

“It all happened so fast—”

“What happened so fast?” countered Ginny.

“It wasn’t even a duel,” Ron said morosely.

Ginny whipped her head around to face him.

Ron frowned before responding. “Neither of us had a chance to react. I don’t even remember him saying ‘Petrificus Totalus,’ but he must have, because the next thing I knew we were lying on the floor looking up at him. And then...”

He paused, clearly uncomfortable with the memory he was narrating.

“Then what?” said Ginny.

“We were... helpless...” Hermione’s voice was barely above a whisper; she sat perfectly still as she spoke, her eyes hauntingly distant. “He was pointing his wand at us... and his... his face kept changing expressions, as if he was struggling with what he wanted to do to us.

Ginny froze, her stillness in contrast to the whirlwind inside her mind.

“One moment he looked so angry, like he couldn’t wait to be rid of us... but then he’d look so... lost, like he was barely holding himself together...”

Ginny closed her eyes, willing her ears to block out what she was hearing, and yet thirsting to hear more.

“And then he started pacing,” continued Hermione. “He kept talking about what a disappointment we were, and how we couldn’t focus on the mission like he did. Every so often, he’d stop and point his wand at us again. And each time, his face looked so... pained.”

Ginny clenched her jaw and tried to shut her eyes even tighter. This wasn’t happening. She was not sitting here listening to her best friend tell her that the boy she had fallen in love with had gone mad.

“Slowly... his angry faces started becoming less frequent... I was just starting to feel as if perhaps he was going to come to his senses, when...”

Ginny held her breath.

“... when he stopped pacing.”

With every word, she could feel her heart growing heavier and heavier.

“He raised his wand one last time...”

No tears. Please, don’t let the tears come.

“His face was finally calm... but his eyes were... cold...”

Ginny’s eyes began to moisten and she put her hands over them in desperation.

“The way he opened his mouth... I thought... I thought he was going to say...”

“He wasn’t going to say it,” came Ron’s harsh whisper. “He’s my best mate... He wasn’t going to say it...”

Ginny had forgotten her brother was there. She wiped her eyes and looked over her shoulder at him. She immediately wished she had not done so. He was staring blankly out the window, a lone tear crawling down the side of his face. Ron rarely cried. Was he trying to convince Hermione or himself?

“We heard a twig snap outside,” said Hermione after several minutes of silence, her voice still weak. “Harry’s eyes and wand snapped toward the doorway of the tent, and he waited a few minutes, but there was only quiet. He looked back down at us and pursed his lips. His eyes were unsteady again... I had no idea what he was going to do... I couldn’t help it. Tears began to drip down my face. I don’t... I don’t know if he saw them... but his face softened a little... and suddenly he walked to my bunk, grabbed the enchanted bag that held all of our things and stomped out of the tent. We heard his voice mumble something, and then the curses on us were lifted just as we heard him Disapparate.”

In the silence following the end of Hermione’s tale, Ginny felt her breathing return, shallow at first, but steady. Once her breathing was more normal, she felt brave enough to try her voice.

“And then you came here?”

“Had no where else to go,” said Ron quietly. “The twins live in the middle of Diagon Alley and Charlie’s in Romania.”

He turned to look at Ginny then. In his eyes she saw the heartbreak that she herself was feeling. Out of a family of seven siblings, how could Ron have run out of options so easily? Without thinking about it, she rose from the couch and made her way to where he was standing. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face against his chest. He put an arm around her shoulders and rested his chin on top of her head, letting out a tired breath. They had tried to find comfort like this once before; it seemed like a lifetime ago.

Four weeks and two days. Of freedom. Of quiet. Of solitude. Harry was surprised at how easily the numbers came to him. Apparently, part of him did regret discarding Ron and Hermione—not that he had spared a thought for them very often since then. He first noticed their absence when he had accidentally walked into a Muggle. When he opened his mouth to apologise, he was surprised when nothing came out right away. The Muggle stared at him warily as he tried to wet his throat and speak. It was only later he realised that until that moment, he had not used his voice in over a week. Later that night as he was settling in to sleep, Harry shrugged off the experience. He reassured himself that he had made the right decision; he had been able to cover much ground since he had gone solo.

Lots of ground... but futile ground. The truth was, he was no closer to completing his quest now than before he had cast off his companions.

And now he was here. Harry had felt drawn to Godric’s Hollow since the beginning of the summer, but had not given in to that impulse until today. He had been driving himself relentlessly for weeks, but recently an inner voice told him he needed to take a short break, if for nothing else than to be able to attack his mission all the more fervently once he felt a bit less drained. There was something else to it as well, something that he could not put words to. Perhaps it had something to do with the Christmas holiday—the need to establish a feeling of home, difficult as that was away from Hogwarts, or perhaps The Burrow...

He shook his head and turned back to the ruins. He needed to shake off his lethargy and regain his fire. Looking at the words of thanks and support written on the walls of the cottage he had once shared with his parents, he could just imagine Hermione clucking at how disrespectful people could be. But he thought it was brilliant. It was just what he needed to remind himself of why he was doing this—why he was pushing himself so hard. People were counting on him. They did not want to lose their loved ones. As the Weasleys had. As he had. They were not destined to do what only he could do.

Harry heard a shuffling noise to his right and turned his head. He saw a stooped figure plodding towards him and he swore at himself; he was obviously more tired than he thought if he was so unaware as to be caught by surprise like that. He forced himself into alertness and assessed the newcomer. At first he was not sure if it was a man or a woman, but eventually decided that it was probably a woman, though he was not sure why he felt this way.

She crooked a finger at him, indicating her desire for him to follow her. Harry hesitated. He was a stranger to her. Why would she beckon to him that way? She did not know who he was... did she? No one could see through Polyjuice Potion. Well... he did not think that anyone could see through its effects. Hermione would probably have known...

Harry shook his head and focussed on the matter at hand. Who could she possibly be? He searched his mind for any witches he knew that lived in Godric’s Hollow.

“Of course,” he said to himself. He turned to her and said, “Are you Bathilda Bagshot?”

The stooped figure nodded and repeated the gesture to follow her.

Still Harry hesitated. He could feel a tingling in his scar, but it had been doing that more and more lately. He only wished it would come with more visions of what Voldemort was up to. It was ironic that just as he finally got rid of Hermione’s worrying about his visions he had stopped having them.

He took one last look at the ruins of his childhood home and took a deep breath. He had not had much of a chance to... grieve? No, he wanted to see if he could... feel his parents’ presence. He imagined what the house might have looked like when it was whole. His father laughing as Harry zoomed around on a toy broomstick. His mother scolding his dad while suppressing a smile. And maybe at night he would cuddle into her arms, in front of a warm fire. There was a time once, when he had thought about having these things again, but with...

“Ginny...” he said softly and reverently.

He heard a noise that pulled his attention away from the house; the old hag was getting impatient.

“You’re not getting any younger, are you?” said Harry as he turned to follow her.

There was no response. Harry no longer felt like talking anyway.

Outside The Burrow, a mild wind was blowing around the top layer of a fresh snow. The newly fallen white blanket made a picturesque vision of the Devon countryside, but inside the magical house, its habitants were finding it difficult to enjoy the beautiful view or the spirit of the Christmas holiday. Hermione and Ron were in the kitchen having tea and deflecting a mild interrogation from Arthur, with constant interruptions from Molly. All the while, Molly was also making preparations for a late dinner; the twins had said that they would be coming later that evening after they had closed the shop.

Ginny was sitting on Ron’s bed with her arms wrapped around her knees, staring at the camp bed Harry usually slept in. All of the fantasies her mind had created for her while she was still at Hogwarts had been dashed. He was not bravely raiding Death Eater locations or covertly training an army or gaining some fantastic mystical power to overthrow Voldemort. He was almost certainly mad. And he was alone. At Christmas. Well, nearly Christmas... Regardless, it only served to intensify her feelings of emptiness. She tightened her arms around her legs, wishing she was holding him instead.

Eventually, she stood up and walked over to lie on the camp bed, hoping it would help to dispel her loneliness. Unfortunately, her mother had diligently washed the sheets, so although they were fresh and clean, they did not smell like broomstick polish or the outdoors or like any of the things that she thought of when she was near him. Frustrated, she sat up and looked about the room. Surely, he must have left something behind... but as she frowned at her brother’s Chudley Cannons posters, it soon became clear that there was nothing of Harry’s about. She breathed out tiredly. This was probably going to be the worst Christmas in history. She was about to leave when she remembered that Ron usually emptied one or two of his drawers for Harry to use when he came to visit.

She walked over to the dresser and began opening the drawers. The first drawer was filled with Ron’s pants; she immediately closed it and screwed up her eyes. She was definitely not opening that one again. The next drawer held some socks, some of which, her nose told her, needed to be put in the wash. She rummaged through a couple drawers of shirts before finally reaching the bottom one. Bingo!

She found some of Harry’s old clothes and picked at them one by one until she found his Weasley Christmas jumper from two years ago, which she pulled out to try on later. Satisfied that she had found something tangible to help her through her current ordeal, she was about to close the drawer when she noticed a pair of socks that were balled up, unlike the others. Curious, she pulled them out and unravelled the knot. She was surprised to find that something had been hidden in one of them. Reaching into the heavier sock, she pulled out what appeared to be a cigarette lighter. That was odd. Harry didn’t smoke. Did he?

Considering the recent revelation of Harry’s separation from his best friends, Ginny began to ponder how well she really knew him. As she began to relive her most vivid memories of him, her hands played idly with the lighter, opening it and pressing the button inside. However, instead of creating a flame, all the lights in the room went out and floated down into the lighter. Panicked, she clicked the button again and watched in wonder as the lights came back out of the device and returned to their original places.

She opened her hand and stared at the magical object. Where did Harry get it? And why didn’t he bring it with him? Granted, it didn’t seem to do much. But, it wasn’t as if it took up very much room or was very heavy. She turned it over in her hand, looking for any markings or clues that could tell her how he might have come by it when it surprised her again.

“Ginny...”

She dropped it in shock and stepped back as a bluish ball of light came out of the lighter or light put-outer or whatever it was. That was Harry’s voice. If she could be sure of anything at the moment, that was it. Where did that ball of light come from? Before she could react, the glowing sphere flew into the middle of her torso. She was about to scream when she realised that somehow, by some miracle, she now knew where Harry was.

Without another thought, Ginny ran as fast as she could down the stairs, taking them two at a time. She fell, trying to stop at the first landing, when she noticed that Ron and Hermione were no longer in the kitchen, but in her bedroom, sitting on the bed. She picked herself up from the floor and ran into the room.

“I know where he is.”

The startled pair looked at her, mouths agape.

“How?” said Hermione cautiously.

“This,” said Ginny as she held up the cigarette lighter.

“The Deluminator?”

“Is that what it’s called?” The young witch then proceeded to describe what happened to her in the upstairs bedroom as her companions’ eyes grew wide in disbelief.

“So where is he?” asked Hermione.

“I can’t really explain it... I just have this image in my head...”

“I don’t know...” said Ron sceptically.

“But Dumbledore gave it to you,” said Hermione turning to him. “Why would you doubt it?”

“This is yours?” asked Ginny.

Ron ignored her and faced Hermione. “I always said he was kind of barmy.”

“Ron, you’re wasting time!” said Ginny, her voice rising. “We need to get to him right away!”

“How can we do that when you’re the only one who seems to know where he is—and you also happen to be the only one who can’t Apparate yet?”

Ginny’s face reddened in frustration. Her fists were balled at her sides. She was about to blow up when Hermione cut in.

“Can you show us how you did it?” said the bushy-haired witch. “Just to convince Ron that it’s real?”

Ginny’s eyes stared at her, while her menacing posture still threatened Ron. Deciding that she had no other option, she brought up her right hand, flicked the top of the Deluminator open and clicked on the button. Another ball of bluish light floated out of it. It was about to drift towards Ginny when Ron suddenly jumped off of the bed and pushed her out of the way. The ball of light fluttered into his torso; his eyes seemed to take on a glazed look for a moment, and then resumed their normal intensity.

“You stupid git!” yelled Ginny from the floor.

Ron turned to Hermione and said, “Come on. You can side-along with me.”

She took a moment to look forlornly at Ginny, and then stood up and took his hand, letting him lead her down the stairs.

“No! No! NO!” said Ginny, scrambling to her feet.

She rushed down the stairs, through the sitting room and out the back door. Three or four paces from the house she looked around wildly, trying to locate the traitorous pair. When she heard a soft pop several yards to her left in the paddock, she knew she was too late.

“DAMN IT!”

She was about to blast a nearby tree with her wand when she was interrupted.

“You should not be out here alone,” said a voice from off to her right.

Ginny whipped around in shock at the unexpected voice.

“You!”

Harry moaned and tried to turn to his side. He could not remember the last time he had been in this much pain. How could he have walked into such an obvious trap? And he did so without backup. Idiot. Whatever their shortcomings, at least his friends would have been able to help fend off the attack. Friends? He had not thought of Ron and Hermione as such in many weeks. What was going on?

Must be the blood loss, he thought dryly.

He hated to admit it, but the trap had been cleverly set. Hiding Nagini in the body of Bathilda Bagshot was brilliant, although how the snake had been able to see through his disguise was beyond him. Maybe it didn’t know it was him. Maybe it had been instructed to just kill anyone who seemed to take an interest in the old Potter residence... not that it mattered now. The potion would be wearing off momentarily.

He opened his eyes to look out the window, knowing that what he saw could possibly be his last memory.

The moon was waiting behind a slow cloud. Snow covered everything. And the house across the street was decorated with Christmas lights.

There was a time when he hated the Christmas season. It was just another opportunity for the Dursleys to emphasize how much of an outsider he was. Then Ron and Hermione had come into his life, and suddenly the holiday ceased to be a vehicle of misery. At another thought of his friends, Harry reached a moment of mental clarity that he had not had in weeks. What had he done? Because of his foolishness, he was going to die in Godric’s Hollow as Voldemort had originally intended all those years ago.

He had let everyone down. Sirius. Dumbledore. Bill. Ron and Hermione. Ginny.

Harry felt himself deflate at the thought of her. Although he had steeled himself for this journey, there was always a part of him that longed to be with her. To wrap his arms around her and lose himself in her touch. Her hair. Her scent. To know what it was like to truly give his heart to someone. And now he would never get that chance. He was about to close his eyes when he heard a sound.

“Harry? Are you here? Harry?”

Was that Hermione?

“Harry?”

That was definitely Ron. What were they doing here? They weren’t prepared for this; he had to warn them about Nagini.

“S-snake...” he croaked out.

The pair rushed over to him and knelt by his side.

“Is it him?” asked Ron.

“No,” said Hermione. “Not unless he recently took some Polyjuice.”

Harry tried to nod his head.

“Is he all right?”

“Not really. It looks like he’s lost quite a bit of blood, but he’s still trying to communicate. I wonder wh—”

“AAAAARGH!”

“RON!”

Harry looked up, terrified. Nagini had bitten Ron in the leg and he was clutching the spot tightly.

“Confringo!”

Hermione’s Blasting Hex narrowly missed the large snake and ricocheted around the room, causing her to shove Harry aside just as it finally landed in the area they had just occupied. At least it had caused the snake to retreat for the moment.

This was going to end badly—not that it was going well before they showed up. Where did his wand go? As he fumbled around for it, he saw the snake preparing to strike.

Harry was at the pinnacle of helplessness. He would have rather died alone than be forced to watch his best friends murdered before his very eyes. He was about to make one last attempt to get to his feet when a purple spell erupted from the doorway, blowing Nagini right through the window. All three of their heads snapped from the window to the doorway to identify their rescuer. Harry was horrified to see a figure in a black robe walk into the room... followed by Ginny.

“No...” he said weakly. And then everything went black.

Harry woke up feeling very disoriented. The first thing he noticed was warmth. Someone had thrown a blanket over him.

“I think he’s awake.”

“Quick, wake up Ginny.”

Ron and Hermione. What were they doing here? The last thing he remembered was... Oh. Right. Images started playing in his head as he recalled the battle in Bathilda Bagshot’s house. Somehow they had come out alive. All of them. He groped around for his glasses aimlessly, hoping one of them had been considerate enough to leave them somewhere nearby.

“Here,” said a soft voice as he felt the familiar frames of his glasses placed into his hand.

Damn. She really was here.

He clumsily slipped his glasses onto his face and tried to sit up. He immediately regretted it.

“Easy there. We’ve given you three doses of Blood-Replenishing Potion.”

Harry tried to nod and regretted that as well.

“Merlin, you’re thick.”

“I’ve been saying that for years,” said Ron’s voice.

Harry finally got his glasses on and looked around. Ginny sat at the foot of his bunk, looking him over with an attentive eye. Ron and Hermione were sitting on the sofa. The lanky redhead was stretched out with his head tilted back and his feet far out in front of him, while the bushy-haired brunette was curled into a ball at his side.

Harry was glad to see his friends alive and well, but he had the odd feeling that someone was watching him. He turned towards the kitchen area. Standing in front of the stove was a figure in a black robe. The hood was pulled down, revealing a head of long, silvery-blond hair.

“F-Fleur?” he croaked out.

She looked up and Harry had to stifle a gasp in his throat. Her flawless beauty was now marred by numerous scars. The most striking one ran down one side of her face, interrupted only by her right eye.

“Yes, it ees me. You are lucky that I came prepared with some potions.”

Harry tried to speak, but could not find the words. Fleur raised her head, her face reforming its familiar expression of superiority.

“You do not like my scars?”

“I don’t like scars in general.”

The corner of Fleur’s mouth turned up in a half-smile and she nodded as a sort of salute.

“She’s right, you know,” said Hermione. “You are extremely lucky.”

Harry bowed his head in defeat and turned back to the sofa she was sharing with Ron. In a quiet voice, he asked, “What happened?”

“Right after Fleur blasted the snake out the window, we grabbed you and left,” said Ron as he sat up. “Good thing, too. As we hid behind the corner of a nearby house we saw a group of people in black robes enter the house. We think one of them might have even been You-Know-Who himself.”

Harry blanched. He really was fortunate for their arrival.

“As soon as they were all inside we moved to another location and Apparated here to the Forest of Dean. Fleur tended to you and me while Hermione and Ginny set up the tent and the privacy charms.”

Harry nodded. “Are you all right?”

“Could have been worse. I was saved by my brilliant Keeper reflexes.”

Harry smiled. It really was good to have them back. Fleur and Ginny were going to be a problem though.

“But, how did you know where to find me?” he asked, suppressing thoughts of the other two for now.

“The Deluminator,” replied Hermione.

Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. “I don’t understand. All it does is put out lights.”

“That’s not all it does,” said a quiet voice behind him.

Harry reluctantly turned to Ginny. He had been hoping that what he saw earlier was an illusion and that she was not really there.

“Apparently, Dumbledore built in one more use for it,” she continued, and then proceeded to tell him how she had happened upon the previously unknown feature.

When she had finished, Harry shook his head.

“What’s wrong?” asked Ginny.

“I... I’m sorry about... this.” He gestured at himself and at Ron’s leg. “I could have got you all killed.”

“Did you really think we would stay away?” said Ginny softly. She looked at him tenderly, but he steadfastly refused to meet her eyes.

“Ginny’s right,” said Hermione. “We had to find you. We still have some unfinished business.” She subtly patted her pocket, and Harry had to resist reaching for the familiar weight around his neck. It was just as well. He did not have to bring his hand to his chest to know that the locket was no longer there.

“So... what now?” said Ginny tentatively.

Harry closed his eyes, keeping his face towards Ron and Hermione. Everyone seemed to be waiting for him to speak. Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at his two best friends. Ron had an expression on his face that said, “She can’t stay.” Similarly, Hermione’s eyes were boring into his, as if she was trying to send him the same message.

“He’s... He’s still out there,” he said, wishing his voice was not wavering so much. More softly, he added, “Nothing’s changed.”

Ginny looked at Ron and Hermione and was not surprised to see their stoic faces. Fleur appeared to be ignoring their conversation. She was fiddling with her robes impatiently, probably trying to think of an excuse to leave and plan her next venture.

“So, that’s it then.”

Harry could not even bring himself to look at her. “Nothing’s changed,” he mumbled again.

Ginny glared at him, waiting for him to turn around. But, he never did. Finally, she turned to Fleur and said, “I’d like you to take me home now.”

Fleur looked at Ginny, then Harry, and back to Ginny again. “As you wish,” she said. She unfolded her arms from her chest and began walking to the door of the tent. As she passed Ron and Hermione she lowered her head between theirs and whispered, “Take care of each other,” before finally leaving the tent.

Ginny continued to stare at Harry.

“We’ll just... er... make sure Fleur knows where she’s going,” said Ron.

Hermione hit him on the shoulder as they began to leave, but they somehow suppressed their bickering until they were out of the tent.

“You lied, you know,” said Ginny. “I wouldn’t be here if something hadn’t changed.”

She shook her head and stood up off the bed. She turned to the doorway, feeling like she wanted to say something else to him, to tell him how much she hated him right now. To tell him she wanted nothing more than to hold him and forget about the war for a while. But the words would not come.

Just as she was about to run out of the tent, she felt Harry grab her hand. She stopped immediately, waiting for him to say something. Nothing. Seconds turned into minutes. She was about to pull her hand from his grasp when he began to stroke her hand with his thumb... in the exact spot he had kissed it months ago.

Ginny closed her eyes and surrendered to the memory of their last hour together at The Burrow.

“Nothing’s changed,” Harry said softly. “Especially the important things.”

When he stopped tracing her hand with his thumb, the illusion that she was back in The Burrow disappeared. His hand dropped effortlessly from hers, and she knew that she had to go. Without another word, she took the Deluminator from her pocket, tossed it on his bed, and walked out.

Harry did not begin breathing again until he heard the pop of Fleur’s apparition. Seconds later, Ron and Hermione re-entered the tent.

“Harry—” Hermione started.

“Please... Don’t take this the wrong way... but I think I’d like to be alone for a bit.”

Hermione seemed to want to say something, but held her peace. Instead, she grabbed a blanket and draped it over his shoulders as he brought up his knees and wrapped his arms around them. As she stepped back, she gave him one last look only to see that he had not moved an inch. She turned, grabbed Ron’s hand, and pulled him out of the tent. Her boyfriend gave her a questioning look, but she shook her head. Harry was not going anywhere.

Chapter Navigation: Previous Next