He straightened up and, after checking to make sure his robes were in place, picked up his Firebolt broomstick and walked down the hall to where the rest of the team waited for him. They all greeted him cheerfully, confidently. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna slaughter them, Harry!” Ron said, grinning. The wind had been so fierce outside that his red hair was now a chaotic mess, though he didn’t seem to mind one bit.
Katie Bell, Demelza Robins, Ginny Weasley, Jimmy Peakes, and Ritchie Coote all echoed him, and Harry privately applauded how relaxed they were, even Ron, who was usually a nervous wreck before a game. They obviously thought the same as he did about the Hufflepuff team and their new Keeper.
As the crowd began to cheer outside, the team lined up and prepared to march onto the field. Ginny sidled up to Harry with her broom slung over her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Harry. It’ll all be over soon enough, and I think I might have spied some mistletoe back in the common room...” she hinted, grinning slyly.
Harry grinned back. Christmas was so far away, no one had even begun decorating the castle. Leave it to Ginny to invent some mistletoe. “If I can find it, I’ll definitely see you there. Ginny...” He felt odd, as if there were something important he should say now...
Ginny leaned up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. The feeling was completely forgotten as he looked into her beautiful blue eyes. “I love you,” he whispered.
“That’s just a preview of the mistletoe,” Ginny said, smiling wickedly as she pulled away. A few snickers came from the two Beaters, Peakes and Coote, but the rest of the team looked very unsurprised.
Taking a deep breath, Harry led his team out onto the field. The blizzard was still raging furiously, and Harry found he could barely see the stands through the heavy curtain of snow ” strange for that time of year ” much less the tiny, darting Snitch. Guess we’ll just have to live with it, he thought grimly.
He shook hands with the Hufflepuff captain, who seemed to be very worried about the weather conditions. While grasping Harry’s hand, he even felt bad enough about it to mutter, “Be careful up there, Potter.”
Harry was surprised, but answered, “You as well.”
They parted, and Harry, brooding on the Hufflepuff’s fateful words, climbed onto his broom and waited for the shrill sound of Madam Hooch’s whistle. After a moment’s hesitation, it came, and the game began.
It was doomed from the start, for both teams. None of the players could see more than a few feet in front of themselves, and kept smashing into each other. At the first opportunity Harry got, he called a time-out and told his team, “Be careful out there. We don’t want any of you to crash into the stands or something because you can’t see through the snow ”” He looked at Ginny, and once again an inexplicable feeling of unease came over him. “Just ” watch out. Don’t fly too fast, and you should be okay.”
The game resumed, with both sides scoring minimal points. The snow grew thicker and thicker, the wind colder and colder; soon it was all Harry could do to hold on to his freezing broom. The sweat froze on his brow, and his teeth chattered involuntarily against the cold. He almost fell twice, but managed to hold on, nearly forgetting about the Snitch in his effort to stay up in the air.
But then, a few minutes later, he spotted the little gold ball. He raced after it, at the same time trying to follow his own advice and slow down. His hand was inches from catching it... when he heard the crowd concealed by the blizzard make one loud, collected gasp.
He looked around, temporarily losing the Snitch. And he saw her. Ginny was no more than four feet away from and below him in the air; she had slipped off her icy broomstick and was clinging desperately to it with only one hand. “Harry!” she screamed as she spotted him.
“Ginny!” He flew down to help her, reaching out with his left hand. “Hang on ””
But to his horror he was too late. Ginny lost her grip and fell with a piercing scream. “Ginny!” Harry bellowed, flying down as fast as he could, flattening himself against the handle in his hurry. A single thought, almost a prayer, raced through his mind, over and over: Oh God, oh God, please, not Ginny, oh God, please, please let her be alright...
Another gasp came from the crowd, who could apparently see all that was happening, and Harry’s heart lurched when he heard a sickening thud below him. Ginny...
“GINNY!” Harry hit the ground and quickly found her body. She was stretched out on the cold, frozen dirt of the field, red hair flowing behind her head like a bloody sea. There was a long cut on her forehead, and one of her arms was twisted crookedly...
Her eyes were closed. Harry desperately felt for a pulse and was relieved to find it, even though it was very faint. He grabbed her hand. It was icy cold, and he futilely tried to warm it between his. “Ginny, please wake up, please be alright...”
A crowd began to gather around them, and somebody called Madam Pomfrey, but Harry heeded none of them. He wiped the accumulating snow off Ginny’s face and hands, but she didn’t respond. “Ginny, please wake up, you promised, we’ll meet under the mistletoe, remember? Wake up, get up, please, Ginny...”
Madam Pomfrey was not a cruel woman, but she didn’t believe in giving false hope before she had inspected her patient thoroughly, so Harry was left to wait outside the hospital wing for most of the night. Knowing Harry and Ginny had been very close to each other, however, the school Healer told him how she was doing as soon as she’d been able to verify her condition. From the drawn look on her face, Harry knew it wasn’t good.
She told him Ginny had a broken arm, but he’d known that already. She said that all her outside injuries had been healed, but she was now in a coma. The Healer didn’t know when she would wake up... Harry was told to wait a month, but if she hadn’t regained consciousness by then, she might never wake up.
Never wake up. Those three words haunted Harry. Over those first days, nothing Ron or Hermione could do would bring Harry out of his shocked fear of losing her. Ron himself, being Ginny’s brother, felt much the same. It was left to Hermione to find a way to console her two friends.
“Harry, don’t worry,” she attempted one day. “She’ll be fine, Madam Pomfrey will find a way to wake her up...”
Harry stood and silently left the room.
November came and sped by. Harry spent all his free time in the hospital wing, staring at Ginny, who had still never opened her eyes. Madam Pomfrey had given up hope, as had many others. Harry knew the situation was hopeless, but his broken heart refused to acknowledge this defeat. He tried not to think about the very likely event of Ginny’s death, but it was hard.
He asked Madam Pomfrey, one day, whether they could get her to St. Mungo’s, if the Healers there could do anything to help her. But she sadly told him, “I’m afraid they’re too far away, and even if we were to find a way to get her there, there’s nothing they can do differently from me. The injury is in her mind, now; only she can heal herself.”
November ended, and they entered December. The days grew shorter and colder. Ginny still lay in the farthest bed of the hospital wing, her breathing shallow, with a turban of bandages wrapped around her head. Harry sat with her almost constantly. He neglected classes and avoided meals with the school, instead bringing his food to the hospital wing to eat beside Ginny.
The few times he did allow himself to mingle, his fraying temper flared dramatically. On one particular occasion, Draco Malfoy and a flock of his Slytherin friends tagged after him for an entire day, jeering and insulting him. The last straw came when Malfoy decided it would be funny to yell, “Potter’s girlfriend’s dying! Serves her right, the blood-traitor brat; I’m only disappointed that she didn’t take her Mudblood friends with her ””
Harry snapped. He threw himself at Malfoy and was able to get in a few good punches before two teachers saw what was going on and separated them. Because of the circumstances, McGonagall let Harry off, but with a stern warning that his next fight would merit a detention.
The next day, Harry was gratified to see Malfoy sporting two colorful black eyes.
After that, he withdrew from everyone. Harry stayed with Ginny constantly, practically living in a chair by her bed. Even though he knew she couldn’t hear him, he talked to her often, telling her about classes and what was happening in the castle; how everyone else was getting on, but especially how much he missed her. He couldn’t say enough of how much his heart was hurting.
Soon it was almost Christmas. Everyone else had completely given up on Ginny by now. They’d even begun to say it was “only a matter of time.” Harry hated those words, and fought against them as hard as he could, even though he knew it was true.
In an example of the black humor he had recently acquired, he hung a sprig of mistletoe over Ginny’s headboard, remembering that day, so long ago, when she had promised to meet him under her imaginary mistletoe. How he missed those days...
The month flew by, and before Harry knew it, it was Christmas Eve. He avoided the rest of the castle’s celebrations, instead spending most of the day by Ginny’s side, reminiscing about Christmases past. Occasionally he would come upon a particularly good memory, and eagerly relate it to his silent companion. “Remember that, Ginny? It was even better because you were there... If only I hadn’t been so thick, we could have spent it together... I miss you.”
One thought led to another, and soon their first kiss came to the fore of his mind. He let himself relive the moment, then found the memory was too much for him, and he broke down and cried into his hands. Ginny... I know you’re going... that I’ll probably never hear your sweet voice again... but thank you for the time we had. I love you, and I ” I’ll miss you, Ginny... He grasped her hand and rocked in his chair, quietly sobbing over what he had lost.
Her hand stirred just as the clock began to strike midnight.
Dong...
Harry felt it, thought he was just imagining through his desperate wishes, but a moment later, the hand moved again.
Dong... dong...
He lifted his tear-stained face and looked, hardly daring to hope. Ginny’s eyelids flickered once, twice, then opened. They looked about in slight confusion, then, after a moment, focused on Harry.
Dong...
A beautiful smile lifted her lips as Harry stared, wondering if he was dreaming, praying he was not. His tears dripped forgotten down his cheeks... “Ginny?” he whispered.
“Harry,” Ginny said softly. “Why’re you crying?” She lightly touched his wet face. Harry closed his eyes for a second, comforting in her touch that he’d missed for so long, then opened them and said, “They said you... You wouldn’t ever wake up... I was so afraid...”
Dong... dong...
A puzzled frown crossed her face, but after a moment she murmured, “I ” I almost didn’t. I was gone, Harry... There was a light, just like everyone always says, but I heard you... I heard you calling me back. It was a long way, but I knew... I had you to guide me. So I’m ” I’m back... Thank you...”
Dong...
“Ginny...” He hesitantly reached out and touched her face. “I thought I’d lost you,” he whispered.
Something seemed to strike her then, and she suddenly looked up. Harry did the same, knowing that he’d see the sprig of mistletoe dangling over her head. She sat up halfway and, shooting a mischievous glance upward, whispered, “Mistletoe.”
Dong... dong...
She kissed him softly on the lips and pulled back, grinning at him. “I told you I’d get you under the mistletoe sooner or later. I couldn’t break my promise, now, could I?”
A single tear of overwhelming joy and gratitude fell from Harry’s eye. And as the final peal of the bell rang out, his mind grasped the right thing to say, at that very moment in time, when the whole earth seemed to stand still.
Dong.
“Happy Christmas, Ginny,” he whispered.
She smiled at him, and he was grateful to see a trace of the old Ginny returning, as she softly answered, “Happy Christmas, Harry.”
I love you...
The End.
“Love is stronger than death, even though it can't stop death from happening. But no matter how hard death tries, it can't separate people from love. It can't take away our memories either. In the end, life is stronger than death.” --Unknown