The healers were back again. Harry turned over in bed, his head spinning with even that slightest of movements, trying to ignore them. He was sick and tired of it. Sick of people staring at him as though he was some strange zoo animal. Sick of people inquiring incessantly what was wrong with him, how he felt, and if he needed anything. True, he needed rest, and relaxation and whatever disgusting concoctions the healers were making him choke down every few hours. But he didn’t need all these people hovering around him so he felt as though he was in a very cramped elevator.
He was still injured from his battle with Bellatrix, but, as everyone should have known by now, he was no stranger to physical pain. It was emotional pain that he wasn’t quite used to yet. He expected getting used to the kind of grief he felt now was most likely impossible.
The healers were talking, whether to him or not, Harry didn’t care. They handed him a small cup of some foul-smelling liquid, and Harry gulped it down mindlessly. His entire system seemed to be functioning on automatic at the moment, leaving his brain to stew in his own mess.
It was simply impossible to remain in his body. He was full of an incessant disgust for himself, and a desire to run- to be far away from anyone and everyone who knew all the terrible things he had done, and the horrible person that lurked under his innocent and heroic façade.
As much as everyone thought he was, Harry knew he was not a hero. He was nothing more than a murderer. Voldemort had deserved a chance to live- didn’t everyone? Then again, Voldemort had been evil and terrible and he had killed Harry’s parents. Wasn’t it right for Harry to have revenge?
These arguments swirled around in his head, chasing one another through his mind in endless circles, and filling him alternately with disgust and melancholy, or righteous anger. There would be periods when the hopelessness of his life seemed to engulf him and that he would stare at the ceiling for several hours, so that by his third day of consciousness, he had memorized the pattern of cracks in the paint. It was a large rabbit.
When Mr. Weasley had spoken to Harry the day he woke up, Harry had told him he did not want to see Ginny. He was such a mess inside, and he was scared of the terrible and murderous power that seemed to exist within him. Of course, having dozens of nightmares of himself somehow harming Ginny wasn’t helping either. As much as Harry didn’t believe in divination, he couldn’t help wondering if these dreams could be an omen of the future.
People had tried to tell him that Bellatrix had been messing with his mind at the Hog’s Head. He believed this, to a certain extent. Certainly her powers of persuasion coupled with several performances of the Cruciatus Curse had addled his mind, but he couldn’t erase his self-doubt all the way.
Harry turned over in bed to stare at the wall on the other side of his room. A small bulletin board hung above a shelf next to the window. Pinned to it were several get well cards, as well as a photograph of Fred and George wearing headless hats. He could tell it was them because labels were scrawled above their nonexistent heads in what looked like Ginny’s handwriting. He wasn’t sure if he was happy or sad to know she had been in here.
The rest of the Healers had left, save for one. It was Dr. Kosenski, their leader. He was standing at a small table in front of the window, puttering around with a few bottles. He looked up as Harry shifted under his sheets and the doctor followed his gaze to the bulletin board.
“Your girlfriend did that for you,” he commented. Harry started.
“What?”
“Your girlfriend. Ginny. She was in here constantly while you were unconscious. Always watching over you. Her brother dragged her out for a coffee when you woke up,”
“Oh,” said Harry. He believed that easily. It seemed like something she would do.
“She was angry when we told her she couldn’t see you. It broke my heart to watch,” he continued casually, scribbling something on a clip board and not looking at Harry. Harry didn’t comment.
“But I know you didn’t mean to hurt her. I’m sure you’ll both come round.” He turned to leave, stowing a few potion bottles on the shelf. “Oh, and Harry?” he said, pausing and looking back from the doorway.
“Yeah?”
“She left you a letter. It’s on the bedside table,” he finished, walking out into the hall.
Harry started once again and looked around at the small table by his bedside. Sure enough, a small white envelope lay there, his name printed neatly on the front. Hands trembling slightly, Harry reached for the envelope and slit it open. Out fell a piece of parchment covered in Ginny’s neat printing.
Dear Harry,
I hope you never have to read this, because if you do, it will mean you have lost all hope. If life is all happy and dandy for you, Mr. Potter, then close this envelope immediately.
Right now, Harry James Potter, I am so angry with you. You’ve just told me that you’re leaving to track and capture Bellatrix Lestrange. WHY ON EARTH DO YOU FEEL THE NEED TO ACT LIKE SOME STUPID NOBLE HERO AGAIN!
But I’m more than angry, Harry, I’m worried sick. I want more than anything to have you sitting beside me, safe and sound and whole. This is what I was scared of all those weeks ago in the woods- that something would hurt you, hurt me, something would make me feel all those scary things again that I felt during the war. Well, guess what? All those awful fears and worries are rushing right back.
So I don’t just want to make you all guilty, cause god knows you’ve had enough of that. I want you to remember me. When the world is breaking all around you and you feel like you can’t go on, I want you to remember that I’ll always be here for you. When the pain of everything is filling you up and you feel like you’re just going to burst because it hurts so badly, think of me. Come back to me, and I can help you.
You are the most incredible guy I’ve ever met, and you’re a hero in every sense, but if you let life drag you down so far, you’ll lose everything. You have to keep going, because you have to come back for me. There is so much for you to live for, and nothing for me to live for if you’re gone. I love you, and no matter how much I hate waiting around for your heroics to be over, I understand how you feel. I do it on the understanding that you won’t forget me.
Putting it simply, I’ll always love you. Don’t ever lose hope. Even the very hardest thing can’t get you down.
All my love forever and ever-- Ginny
Harry read the letter through once, twice, three times, his eyes filling with tears as he reached the end. Ginny. His Ginny. The girl who loved him even though he had murdered Lord Voldemort. The girl who promised to love him and be there for him and be his own forever and ever. How could he have forgotten her?
He looked up from the letter, his eyes still watery. Someone was peering through his open door, only semi- illuminated in the growing darkness. Harry craned his neck, trying to see who it was. Then his bedside lamp caught a strand of bright red hair in its sphere of golden light. He knew immediately who it was.
“Ginny?” Harry whispered cautiously. His stomach swooped at the thought of seeing her again.
The figure moved into the room, smiling and crying at the same time. Ginny walked over to his bed and sat down next to him. She reached toward his face, wiping away one of his tears with a familiar hand. Harry sank into her touch, moving closer to her and gently, as if in a dream, touching his lips gently to her cheeks and eyelids, slowly kissing her salty tears away.
He knew that he would still have to talk about what had happened. He knew that when the morning came he would still have to face the world. He knew that his healing process was not yet over, but at the moment, he didn’t care.
“Are you okay?” she murmured softly, her red hair teasing his face as he continued to kiss her cheeks.
“No,” he whispered back. “But don’t stop.” Ginny wrapped her arms around him pulled him closer.
They were unable to stop after that. Ginny’s lips found Harry’s and they kissed deeply, melting against each other, their minds becoming hazy. Harry’s hands caressed every part of her body- her arms and shoulders, cheeks and hair. She felt his hair and his strong muscles under his shirt, deepening the kiss as if she could never feel it again.
Somehow, Ginny ended up in top of Harry on his bed, every part of her body attempting to meld to his as his lips moved more urgently against hers.
“You’ve found me, Ginny,” he breathed against her ear, moving aside her hair to kiss her there. He held her as close as he could, and together, the two of them fell deeply asleep.
The Hardest Thing by smiley10792
Chapter Notes: Somehow this got deleted when I first submitted it, but I never got an email saying anything about it, so I'm assuming something glitchy happened... hey, it happens to all of us.
Anyway, the pentultimate chaper is here. Enjoy! (By the way, do I look like JKR? No. 'Nuff said)