She couldn’t do this. Not with everyone else here.
Ginny ran past everyone. She bumped into many tearful people, some she didn’t even know who they were, but she paid no attention to them.
She kept running.
And she never wanted to stop
Ginny Weasley staggered down the dirt road. There was nothing behind her or in front. She had to try and forget the events that were in her past, and didn’t want to think about but she had no future. Ginny knew she could live without him; the only one she had ever loved: Harry James Potter.
His name caused her to flinch every time she read it in the paper. His name was everywhere but the story was the same all the time. Boy Who Lived Dies Defeating Dark Lord, read the latest gossip filled newspaper. Ginny couldn’t stand it anymore. She had put on a brave face for far too long, but underneath her smile, she was in heartbreaking pain.
Each tear drop that fell caused a cloud of dust to rise from the road as she kept running. Her head dropped slightly but she forced herself to keep going. The bottoms of her feet were swollen and red from walking. Ginny could still remember the only other time she had been so tired of walking and running.
It had been a sunlit day at the Burrow when fear didn’t control their every move; they had been able to roam fields and garden freely. Harry had taken her down to their secret pond behind the large oak tree out in the back garden. He had set up a picnic for them both. All day they had kissed and chased each other; happy to feel the suns rays on their faces and the wind in their hair.
She cried out in pain just thinking of him, and sunk to the ground on her knees. How could she go on without him? She couldn’t but the solution was simple. She couldn’t live with him, but in death they would be together. She pulled out the long, slender piece of wood from her pocket and stared unfocusedly at it. It was the only way she reasoned madly.
Ginny centered the wand on her chest, over her heart, determined to finish it now. She was about to recite the dreaded words that had ended Harry’s life over a year ago when someone took her by surprise.
“Miss?”
The words broke the silence and Ginny glanced up, startled. She couldn’t believe her eyes. There in front of her, where dirt had rested a few moments ago, was a small pub, The Green Dragon , the sign read that swung in the slight breeze.
A man with a short, white beard and a large, bulging belly stood there with a concerned expression on his face.
“Perhaps we could talk about this before you do something you’ll regret, Miss,” he said, taking her hand in his and pulling her gently towards the pub door. “My name is Blenkinsop Waterbut by the way.”
She didn’t know how she came to tell this man her story. He seemed nice enough. He was a large fellow with a stomach that jiggled like jelly when he moved, and a cheery smile that never seemed to disappear, until she told her story to him.
“Miss Weasley is it?” asked the man again.
He held out a chubby hand and she took it timidly. He resumed his place behind the bar as Ginny sat gloomily on one of the stools in front of the bar.
“How ‘bout the house special’s, Miss Weasley?” he asked cheerfully.
She nodded glumly and put her head in her hands. Her wand was burning a hole in her pocket, willing her to finish was she started; to kill herself and be with Harry again.
Blenkinsop poured her a large and dirty looking mug of bright red liquid. Blenkinsop passed the mug to her and she gulped down the drink noisily.
“Want to talk ‘bout what you were doing out there, Miss Weasley?” he questioned as she placed the now empty mug on the counter.
“You don’t want to hear that Mr Waterbut,” Ginny said, her voice barely a whisper.
Blenkinsop took her mug and began cleaning it with a dirty rag, his eyes trained on the mug.
“Sometimes the only thing you can do is talk,” he said quietly; she sighed loudly but began talking.
“Harry Potter was my whole life, Mr Waterbut. We were to be wed next spring, but instead we just had the funeral and there is no wedding,” she cried, her tears falling on the dusty counter.
She fiddled with her engagement ring as she talked about how the wedding was going to be perfect. She had already picked out which flowers would decorate the back garden. She had even bought her wedding dress already.
They talk all night and into the early morning. As morning approached, Ginny felt as though the burden of the world had been lifted off her shoulders; she felt rid of the guilt she had been carrying round for the past couple of months. She felt guilty because she hadn’t been there to help Harry fight. He had said he didn’t want her to get hurt. She didn’t care about getting hurt, all she wanted to do was help him.
After she finished, Blenkinsop handed her a few tissues and she took them gratefully. He checked his watch.
“Maybe you should stay the night, we have a spare room upstairs, you wouldn’t have to pay at all, free of charge,” he said politely.
“I don’t think so, I should go,” she said.
Her words were slightly slurred, and her vision was slowly going as well.
“Miss Weasley, I really think you should stay, you had one too many to drink,” Blenkinsop said calmly, helping her to her feet.
In a matter of moments, Blenkinsop had helped her upstairs and into a spare room. He left her after showing her where the bathroom was, and giving her the key to lock the room.
Ginny surveyed the room curiously. The bed was neatly made with gold coloured sheets, a blanket, and pillow cases of the same colour. The bathroom was extremely white with a bath with yellow towels hanging on the edge; the lavatory also had a shower, toilet and a sink with a mirror that hanged above the basin.
She examined herself in the mirror carefully. She had shadows underneath her brown eyes which were red from crying.
She didn’t have anything to change into. She simply folded back the blankets and sheets and lay in the bed, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster.