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My Harry Heart by SaboteurVictory

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Story Notes:

I know I'm a little behind the times, but about a week before I wrote this, I read JK Rowling's "The Tales of Beedle the Bard" for the first time. (I really enjoyed it!) Then, being the cheesy, childish, romantic author that I am, this story occurred to me.

Please forgive the overwhelming aroma of cheese.

Also, I chose to put this in Harry/Ginny rather than Dark/Angsty because I felt the romance was stronger than the depression.
Chapter Notes: All characters and plots you recognize belong to the always-brilliant JKR!

Enjoy!

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You know, I really try not to be soppy, girly, or a hopeless romantic. It just isn’t like me; it sort of makes me gag. (Bill and Fleur were almost unbearable last year. )

But I realize, as I sit alone in my cold, lonely bedroom that I have not been at home for more than a few weeks without Harry in years. Ever since I was eleven years old, Harry has been there every summer holiday. We’ve even spent the Christmas and Easter holidays together, whether at home or at school. But I’ve been at home for weeks now, and nobody but me, Mum, Dad, Fred and George are here. I sometimes try to pretend like it’s normal, but without Ron and even Percy in the house, not to mention all the horrible, dark, violent things that are happening everywhere, I can’t convince myself even in my wildest daydreams.

And my thoughts always drift to him, inadvertently. No matter what I do, something reminds me of Harry. I’ve come to associate the colors green (for his eyes), scarlet and gold (for Gryffindor), black (for his hair), and blue (the color of the sky during those afternoons spent together on the grounds) with Harry Potter. Unfortunately, they are all pretty common colors, which I see everywhere, so that kind of means I’m always thinking of him.

I write him letters all the time. My diary has kind of become a collection of daily letters that I write, though I know he will never read them. Today it is raining, so I’m in a bad mood. I was listening to Potterwatch, and there were a lot of deaths listed (luckily I knew none of the people) so my diary entry is dark, like my thoughts.

I am thinking of Harry, but I’m also thinking about death. What would I do if Harry died? I have been fearing his death ever since he disappeared after the wedding, and I know that it is SO possible and SO likely that I’m trying to mentally prepare myself for the day that the headlines read: HARRY POTTER: KILLED AT LAST. It hasn’t come yet, but I dread that it will.

What would I do if Harry died?

I am in love with him, that much is certain. I decided that ages ago. Though Harry’s not my first boyfriend, (that title is reserved for Michael Corner, unfortunately) he is –my first love.” I hate those cheesy, soppy words, but it’s true. I love the way his eyes light up when he sees me. I love the way his hair flops in his face and he never even tries to control it. I love the way he laughs when he zooms around on a broomstick, like he forgets the world and just enjoys the exhilaration. I love the way he holds me, like he never wants to let me go.

If Harry died, I would lose faith in love. I have liked Harry for as long as I can remember, and just as I finally got him—and fell in love with him—he would be snatched away. I wouldn’t come out of that scenario unscathed. Sometimes, when I wake up from nightmares where Harry is dead, I go through the whole day cold and depressed and unyielding. Mum and Dad have kind of given up on managing my teenage mood-swings, but I can tell that Fred and George are just about ready to shove me out a window sometimes. But when I’m in that kind of mood, I don’t care.

It reminds me a little of the story Mum used to tell us when we were kids, –The Warlock’s Hairy Heart.” It was one of Beedle’s tales; it was about a wizard who vowed never to love, so he removed his own heart and locked it up. His heart mutated and grew hair, and the wizard became cold an unable to love. In the end, the wizard and the woman he tries to marry both die, which is rather morbid for a kids’ story. A lot of parents alter the story to be more kid-friendly, but Mum always said that you shouldn’t hide the truth of the world from children, and –death is something that happens.”

I know, now, the answer to my question. If Harry were to die, I would grow a hairy heart. (Metaphorically, of course.) I would be afraid to love again, so I would lock my heart away and hide it from the world. Dumbledore has always been right to say that love is dangerous--possibly the most dangerous power we can ever fathom. I laugh darkly at the pun that has just occurred to me.

So, pretty much, Harry Potter, the love of my life, had better not die. Because if he does, I will have, forever and always, my Harry heart.
Chapter Endnotes: Reviews would be kind of awesome. KThx :)