Harry blinked his eyes multiple times, making sure that the reflection of the tears and the moonlight weren’t playing tricks on him. He was sure that delirium had struck him, that his sanity was slowly melting away as he stared into Ginny’s open eyes once more.

Just a muscle reflex, he thought to himself, nothing more than that.

“Harry?” her voice called out, faint and small, but there. He shook his head again, sure he was dreaming, sure that any second now, he would wake up to find himself holding her dead body again. But she smiled at him, and she pulled on his shirt again, and he suddenly realized that this was real…that she wasn’t dead, but still alive, lying in his arms and looking up at him as if he had shaken her awake from a deep sleep.

“I don’t understand,” Harry said to her, and now more tears were falling, but from joy. He was staring at her in awe, unable to suppress his emotions any longer. He swept her into a kiss, sobbing as her lips connected with his. He tasted her again in his mouth, the sweet taste of strawberries and happiness filling his entire body with happiness.

“HERMIONE!” he called out, “RON, COME QUICKLY!”

“They left?” Ginny asked, and Harry laughed at her, “Why would they leave me?”

“I was a bit distraught, Gin,” he said, “Guess they couldn’t handle me in such a state as I was in.”

“Why’d you get yourself all worked up, Harry? And why the Hell are you bleeding?” she asked him, clueless. He looked at her awkwardly, and she shrugged at him.

“You don’t remember what happened to you?” he asked her, and she looked up at the sky. Closing her eyes, Harry could see that she was racking her memory. He wished she would think with them open…he wanted those eyes to stay open forever. Also, after she had mentioned it, his torn side had started hurting again.

“Narcissa did something to me,” Ginny said, “She told me to…to…God, Harry, what? I’m way too tired to think right now.”

Harry laughed again, utterly amazed at all of this. He could her footsteps approaching from behind, and glanced over his shoulder to see two figures, running at him and his girlfriend as if a Basilisk was chasing them.

“We heard you scream Harry,” Hermione said, her breath coming in gasps, “What was it you…” but she stopped. She noticed that Ginny was awake and alert, her arms wrapped around Harry’s neck as if she had merely fallen asleep in his arms. Ron was at a loss for words. He sunk down onto his knees and grabbed his sister’s hand. Kissing it gently, he moved in and planted one on her cheek as well.

“You scared the Hell out of me, there,” he said, and tears were falling from his eyes, too. “Don’t you ever do that again, d’you understand me? Mum’ll have a fit.”

Ginny chuckled, and then cried out in pain. She clutched the side of her ribcage, and Harry sat bolt upright. Ron backed off as Ginny let out another gasp of pain. Harry slowly lifted her shirt up to see if he could spot anything that was causing the pain. He gave a small groan as his eyes befell the great bruise that had formed on her body. Below her fifth rib, which appeared broken, the blood had gathered and caused the skin to turn a dark shade of purple. A gash sat below it, probably caused by the impact with the ground or a rock that had sat below where her body had fallen. Harry shifted his hands so that they were nowhere near that side of the body. She cried out again, louder this time.

“NO!” she said, “NO! Put your hand back there, please!”

Harry did as she asked him to do. Placing his hand gently around her back, he resumed his original position. She was sweating in agony, looking up into his eyes and pleading with him to make it go away.

“I was fine a minute ago,” she said, “What the Hell is causing this pain now? I…ARRGHH!!!”

Her chest gave another painful throb. Ron took her hand, and Hermione moved in to look at her again. She looked up at Harry, who was feeling completely helpless, upset because he had no idea what to do. Hermione, however, had made a careful observation.

“Harry,” she said, “Move your hand away from her again.”

“But,” Harry replied, “she just said it hurts her when I…”

“Just do it!”

He did so without hesitation. Ginny cried out again, and Harry cooed to her softly. She lashed around.

“Put it back on!” she screeched, “Put it back on!”

“Harry,” Hermione said, “Place your hand directly on the bruise, okay?”

“Won’t that hurt her more?” Harry asked, “I’ve had plenty of bruises before Hermione, and usually, I don’t want anyone near them.”

“Yes, well I don’t think this is an ordinary circumstance, Harry,” Hermione crisply said to him, “First of all, she should be dead, not bruised. Second of all, I’m fairly certain that my theory is correct. Now, for the sake of your girlfriend, would you please put your hand on that bruise?”

Shaking his head, Harry did as he was told. Ginny’s breathing eased. Her eyes opened again, bright and calm once more. The tears began to subside.

“Don’t move that hand, okay?” Hermione said, “Not until we can figure out a way to move her.”

“What just happened?” Harry asked, and Hermione smiled. Ron looked up at her, too.

“I love you,” he said to her, and kissed her lightly on the lips. Hermione, blushing, thanked him and then looked back at Harry and Ginny.

“I don’t think that you two are an ordinary couple,” she explained, and the two looked at each other, than back at her.

“What do you mean by that, exactly?” Harry asked.

“Well, we know that you survived that Killing Curse because of Ginny’s love for you,” she said, and Ginny’s brow furrowed.

“Explain it to you later,” Harry told her. Hermione, nodding continued.

“I think that you, Harry, in turn, have the same ability over her,” she said, “Apart, the thoughts that you have of one another keep both of you safe from any deadly danger. Together, I think that, when one of you is wounded, the other can use the power of the heart to heal you. Don’t you see what I’m getting at?”

“Well…” Ginny started, “I’m kind of…no, I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

But Hermione could see that Harry did. In his fifth year, Dumbledore had told him what power he possessed that Voldemort did not. Now, he understood it in full. His ability to love cancelled out any harm that he or his followers tried to do to him or someone else that shared the same feeling for him. As long as he loved Ginny, or Ron, or Hermione, they were all safe. Weren’t they?

“This can’t be completely right,” Harry said to her, “If my ability to love can save Ginny’s life, then why couldn’t it save Sirius? Why couldn’t it save Dumbledore? I loved both of them, too….just in a different way.”

“I…I don’ think it works all the time,” Hermione said, “I think that it only works if it isn’t time for that person to go yet. It works when that person has something more to give. When Ginny’s time or your time comes, the power won’t work anymore.”

“Sirius had more to give,” Harry said, “And Dumbledore had more to teach me. I could have known so much more had he been around to help me.”

“Sirius had been dying for many years, Harry,” Hermione replied, “No one noticed it, not even him, but he was. Think about it. Other than you and Lupin, he had no real friends left. His youth and soul had dried up in Azkaban. He wanted to see James again, to relive his life in happiness. His time had come and past, and when he left, he was able to leave a flame in you that will be there forever. He taught you what you needed to learn from him…the love of a relative or guardian.”

“And Dumbledore?” Harry said.

“He knew that you were ready,” said another voice, and this time it was Ginny’s and not Hermione’s. “He knew that you were prepared for this. He gave you the tools, and it was time that you figured out how they worked and used them to your advantage. You were able to go into battle because of everything he had given to you. Now, you are ready to fight Voldemort because of everything he gave to you. It was his time too, Harry. He knew that.”

“Snape said he pleaded with him to take his life,” Harry replied, and Ron nodded.

“Based on what the girls just professed, he probably did,” he said, smiling. Harry looked up at the sky. Tonight, it had happened. For the past few months, in his healing and preparation to save his friends, Snape had taught him new spells and made him more powerful than he could have ever imagined. Tonight, he became the man needed to wield those powers. Last year, before the cave and the night of Dumbledore’s murder, he had realized the true meaning of a prophecy. Now, he knew he had the ability to fulfill it, to walk into the arena with his head held high. His support surrounded him now, ready to fight and die with him, if need be. He had it all…love, loyal friends, and the knowledge of what was the right thing to do. Those were things that Voldemort would never have. Nodding, he looked down into Ginny’s face. Leaning in, he kissed her once more.

“I love you,” he said to her, and she nodded.

“I know,” she replied, “I love you, too.”

“I’m sorry if I ever hurt you,” he said, “I promise, it’ll never happen again.”

“I know,” Ginny exclaimed, “I knew from the beginning. But I do have one thing to say to you.”

“What?”

“I hope you see now what an idiotic move it was to dump me in the first place.”

“Yeah…it was pretty dumb. Er...by the way, now that we know that you and I touching each other can heal our wounds...can you...”

"Oh...yeah."

And she placed her hand over the cuts on his sides. The pain began to die down slowly, and then disappeared, though the cuts still stayed there.

“Ahem.”

Ron interrupted them. He was standing up, looking down at all three of them.

“Sorry to break up the little lovefest, philosophical speech session,” he said, “But might I remind everyone that we are supposed to be at war? Ginny, your free will is locked up somewhere in that house, and we need to find it so that you aren’t listening to the demands of some 100,000 Death Eaters. Also, if we find Mad Eye Moody and he ends up being in some kind of foul mood or something, you don’t want to be doing anything he asks you to do, either. So…who’s up for some manor-scouring?”

“Does it look like I can move?” Ginny said.

“I’ll stay with you,” Hermione answered, “The boys can go find things in the house that we’ll need for the rest of our journey.”

“Might I mention the fact that if Harry leaves, my pain returns full throttle?” she asked. Harry kissed her cheek lightly.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, “Just concentrate on me, okay? Picture my hand on your side, and I promise, the pain won’t come back. I’ll think about you too, alright? That way, through thought, we’re still together.”

“If that pain comes back, you’re dead,” she told him. Smiling at her, he gently slipped his hand out from under her. Hermione, with her legs crossed, created a pillow for Ginny with her lap. Harry kissed her one final time, and then left with Ron. He kept his eyes on her until they got to the corner of the manor. Then, she was out of his view.

They retraced their steps up to the top of the tower, where Draco and Narcissa’s bodies were sprawled across the floor. Stepping over them, Harry looked at the floorboards to see if any of them were standing up, seemingly messed with in order to help hide the box in which Ginny’s free will sat locked away. Nothing was there. They left the room quickly and moved onto Narcissa’s bedroom, searching for anything funny there. Ron went to check the living room. Harry went to the upper area of the house.

There was a door that Harry could see led to the upper tower of the castle. A giant padlock bolted the handle shut. Pointing his wand at it, he said, “ Alohomora!” to open it. Nothing happened.

“Bombarda!” he cried. Again, nothing.

“HARRY!” Ron called, “HARRY!”

He came up to him, a piece of paper in his hand.

“Found it in the top drawer of Narcissa’s nightstand,” Ron said, “What’d you ‘spose it mean?”

Harry read the words over in his head. It was a small poem, two lines that he assumed would come in useful in some way to gaining back what they wanted.

“Unwillfully given, but willingly hidden, the secret remains unseen.

The servant created, the will kept, these words alone the key.”

Instantly, the door flung open. Something was slung into Harry’s arms. It was a small box, the lock open. Harry eased the lid up, and the shadow of something escaped. It skipped down the hallway and out of sight. Ron turned to give chase, but Harry extended his hand to stop him.

“Let freedom find its owner again,” he said, and motioned for him to climb the stairs up into the tower. Ron nodded, and climbed up the stairs right behind his friend.

Once in the tower, Harry went directly to the desk. There were multiple papers stacked there, and he began to flip through them, searching for something that would help them in battle. Ron, meanwhile was looking at the wall.

The Malfoy family crest was there, along with family heirlooms and sorts of the same category. There was a skull that sat on the top of the dresser in the corner, and along with a photo of the three Malfoys. Ron grimaced.

“Ugly people,” Ron said.

“Get over here,” Harry called to him, his voice anxious. Ron turned around and looked down at the papers that Harry was staring at, wide-eyed. His hands were shaking as he began to explain to Ron what the scribbling of names and locations meant, for it was in Parselmouth, and no doubt written by Voldemort himself.

“They’re orders,” he told him, “Specific orders on what to attack and when to do it. All of these…” he pointed to the top of the list… “are names of places that have already been destroyed. The ones on the bottom are what will soon be attacked.”

“This is good news, then, Harry,” Ron told him, “We know where they’ll strike now. We can get to those places and stop them before anything happens.”

“It would be great,” Harry replied, “But there’s one thing that isn’t.”

“What’s that?”

“They’re moving on Azkaban tonight,” he said, “The specific orders go into detail of how to do it. All of those who were captured at Hogwarts are to be locked into their cells at midnight.”

“And then?”

“They set fire to the prison…those inside…they…”

He couldn’t go on.