Here Without You

Here without You

A hundred days have made me older

Since the last time that I saw your pretty face

A thousand lights have made me colder

And I don't think I can look at this the same

The war raged. A young man, only recently turned eighteen, in a bunker on the battlefield was trying desperately to get a few hours of much needed sleep before his watch began again. He gazed idly around the room at the haggard faces of his fellow soldiers. Even with the room magically expanded, it was cramped at best. Men and women were scattered in every available space, curled up on cots and blankets on the floor. Many of them were older wizards; their children grown, they had nothing to keep them from fighting on the front lines of the war. They remembered well Voldemort's last reign of terror and had vowed to do everything in their power to stop his forces again. Intermingled with the experienced witches and wizards was a proud group of younger individuals. Most of them, like Seamus Finnigan and Justin Finch-Fletchley, had graduated only a few short months ago and had come straight to the front immediately afterward to join the fight. They knew that they would not have a life to begin until Voldemort was gone, and so they were eager to help eradicate him as soon as possible.

These soldiers realized that they were only minor players in the war. Everyone knew by now that there was only one man who could defeat the Dark Lord. The Boy Who Lived worked among them, waiting for Voldemort to show his face, biding his time until the final confrontation would end it all. They all knew that he was growing impatient.

The great Harry Potter had been summoned to the front even before he had finished school. He refused to discuss it, but his friends recognized his bitterness that he was not even allowed to graduate before his destiny called him. What made it worse was that it had all been a waste. Harry had been waiting on the battlefield for over three months now, and his archenemy continued to send his Death Eaters to their deaths while keeping himself safely hidden away.

Harry rolled over on his rough canvas cot, thankful he had thought to add the cushioning charms. Not that it helped much. He suffered from a constant throbbing pain in his scar, which he was still finding it difficult to ignore. Worse than that, however, was that Harry was haunted by the ever-increasing number of flashes of green light he was forced to witness on the front lines of the battle. He had seen his fellow soldiers and old schoolmates fall in battle, and he knew that the experience was changing him. He ran a hand through his dark hair, cringing at the thought of the white that was slowly interspersing with the black. Harry was no longer the boy who had left his friends, left her, at Hogwarts to confront the prophecy. He had become a man, determined to end this war no matter what the cost.

But all the miles that separate

They disappeared now when I'm dreaming of your face

Harry missed his friends, and he desperately missed her. The only thing keeping him sane was the fact that they were safe, far away from the battlefield. His friends had argued heatedly with him; they wanted to join him at the front. Harry knew that they felt they should protect him, even though they all knew that they could not. In the end, they had seen reason and taken positions far away from the confrontation. One of his friends was using his talents working as a strategist with the Order of the Phoenix, and another was with him, researching and developing new spells at the Ministry of Magic. But he worried most about her. She was safe within the confines of Hogwarts, protected by the ancient wards and Headmistress McGonagall.

It pained him that the best way to keep her safe was to stay as far away as possible. He had known it from the beginning, but she had never let him push her away. Harry pictured the deep brown eyes that would sparkle with life when she laughed and always seemed to be able to read his very soul. He was the savior of the wizarding world, but she was his.

I'm here without you baby but you're still on my lonely mind

I think about you baby and I dream about you all the time

I'm here without you baby but you're still with me in my dreams

And tonight it's only you and me

Harry lay back on his cot, pushing the nightmares out of his mind and focusing his thoughts on her. He knew it was the only way he would be able to get to sleep. Harry thought back to one of the last nights he had spent with her. They had met in the common room very late at night, a common occurrence at this stage of their relationship. However this evening she did not want to stay there. Grabbing his cloak, Harry covered the two of them, and they went out of the portrait hole to roam the castle. Luckily there had been no sign of Filch or Mrs. Norris as they approached the Room of Requirement. The couple entered, knowing exactly what they would find there.

They had come to the room once before in much the same way. The first time had been planned; every detail and possible problem ironed out well in advance. There had been no distractions, nothing to stop them from what they both knew they were ready for. But the first time had been new and awkward, and both of them had ended up laughing about it later. They were both too young and inexperienced to know how to fully enjoy what they were doing.

This time she had surprised him with the request to visit the room. Upon entering, Harry saw that everything was much as it had been the first time. The familiar double four-poster bed with red and gold curtains stood in the middle of the room. White taper candles floated here and there around the ceiling of the room, and Harry could hear music playing somewhere very faintly. He watched as she waved her wand and lit the candles and then turned to the door to apply the complex locking spell that would keep all but the most determined witch or wizard away. She took his hand and led him slowly to the bed, her brown eyes aflame with passion as they locked with his. Harry's head spun as he looked at the beautiful, sensual woman that he loved so much and wondered what had happened to the schoolgirl he had thought her to be.

He lay down on the soft bed, and she crawled on top of him, pressing her athletic form up against him. Her hair glowed in the candlelight as it cascaded down around his face. Harry grinned at her and ran his hands slowly down the sides of her body, finally gripping her back to pull her closer. She leaned down to grab his mouth in an ardent kiss, and his thoughts dissolved until there was nothing except the two of them, their hands and bodies exploring each other in a closeness that made Harry think his heart would explode when it was over.

The miles just keep rolling

As the people leave their way to say hello

I hear this life is overrated

But I hope that it gets better as we go

Harry awoke the next morning with a smile as he remembered his dream from the night before. Putting on his glasses and getting up out of bed, he grabbed one of his old black school robes out of his satchel and threw it on. Harry walked across the room and went into the bathroom to throw water on his face. He would need to be fully awake once he went outside to keep watch. He glanced up at the mirror for only a split second, trying to ignore the fact that he looked older than his father had when he died. He ran his hands quickly threw his hair, knowing it was useless to attempt to tame it. Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket and headed for the door of the bunker.

He was stopped by the sound of his name being called across the room, and he turned to see the intimidating figure of Kingsley Shaklebolt waving at him. He was walking toward Harry with a rather plain-looking witch who seemed to be talking very quickly.

"Harry!" Kingsley said as he stopped in front of him. "I'd like you to meet one of our new recruits. This is Esmerelda Higgencrump. Esmerelda, this is Harry Potter."

"Oh, of course, of course!" exclaimed Esmerelda, positively bouncing up and down in her excitement to meet The Boy Who Lived. Harry's forced smile turned into a wince. There was nothing he liked worse than meeting members of his extensive fan club who were twice his age. It was embarrassing to say the least.

"It's nice to meet you," Harry said politely, offering his hand in an attempt to get away quickly. Esmerelda shook his hand but then seemed to forget how to let go.

"Oh, it's my pleasure! I never would have thought when I volunteered I'd get to meet the great Harry Potter," she gushed as Harry tried to slip his hand out of her tight grasp. "Should have known, I should. Of course you'd be here..."

Esmerelda continued to ramble until Harry jerked his hand away in a swift movement. "Well, I've really got to be going," he said, looking at Kingsley for assistance. "It's my turn on watch and I'm going to be late."

"So sorry, Harry," Kingsley said. "Be careful out there. It's been pretty quiet the last few days, but you never know."

"I will," Harry said. He pulled his wand and strode out of the bunker, walking quickly down the road to the watchtower. He climbed up the ladder, magically magnified his glasses with a swift "binoculus" charm, and settled in for a long day of scanning the horizon for Death Eaters, giants, or whatever other mad creatures Voldemort decided to send at them that day.

I'm here without you baby but you're still on my lonely mind

I think about you baby and I dream about you all the time

I'm here without you baby but you're still with me in my dreams

And tonight girl it's only you and me

That evening a strange calm settled over Harry as he lay down to rest. Voldemort was coming for him, and it would happen very soon. He was not as scared as he thought he should be. Sometime in the past three months he had managed to resign himself to his fate. Recognizing the truth of the prophecy had been impossible to do while he had still been at Hogwarts. He had been constantly surrounded by people that he loved, and accepting the truth meant admitting that once he left he may never return. Harry thought that he was prepared for that possibility, until he fell in love with her.

He could still remember so clearly the day he had left. She had met him on the Quidditch pitch after dinner as he had asked. Harry had given her no warning, telling himself it was better for her not to worry about him until after he was gone. In truth he had been a coward. Harry knew that he would not be able to refuse her if she tried to talk him out of going. He should have known better.

Watching her walk up the hill to the pitch, seeing the sunlight glint in the fiery blaze of her hair, Harry felt his throat tighten and wondered how he would be able to tell her he was leaving. And then he saw the determined, steely look in her eyes and realized he didn't have to tell her anything. She already knew.

As she approached she had smiled at him; a bright smile that lit up her face and always seemed to be able to warm him deep inside. But she wasn't able to hide the sadness in her watery brown eyes as she faced him for the last time.

"Hi." Her voice was barely a whisper but she did not cry, and Harry knew that she was determined to be strong for him. It was so like her to know exactly what he needed. Harry couldn't believe how lucky he was to have her in his life.

"Ginny," he said roughly, his voice quivering with all the feelings that had seemed to settle in his throat. He saw the unshed tears glisten in her eyes, and his resolve snapped as he wrapped her in his arms. She was everything that was good and warm and safe in his life. There was no way he could leave her.

She clung to him as he buried his face in her hair, savoring the comfort of holding her close. He could feel her small hands stroking the back of his hair, and he hugged her tighter, like a life preserver in a rough sea. After an eternity that seemed just a moment, Ginny backed away from him slightly so that she was able to look at him. His hands rested on her waist, and Harry could feel her tremble slightly as she stared into eyes.

Reaching a hand up to stroke his face, she said softly, "You have to go."

"I know," Harry replied, his voice much deeper than he remembered it being. He was trying not to lose himself in the depths of her brown eyes. "That doesn't make it any easier."

"You don't have a future as long as he's alive..."

"We," Harry corrected quickly. In his childhood, Harry had lived in the present, as children so often do. But even as he grew to an age where his life loomed ahead of him, he had never allowed himself to dream of the future. Now he knew that he could not imagine one without Ginny. He would not be able to face having his life spread out before him without her by his side.

"You're right," Ginny said looking over at the castle. "None of us do."

They had never really spoken about the weight that Harry carried on his shoulders, the responsibility of being the only hope for a world terrorized by an evil wizard. But it had long ago ceased to be a secret, to her and everyone else in their world. This was not a choice; it was fate.

"You can do it...You will do it." Harry could tell that she was trying very hard to keep her voice from shaking. "You have to, Harry. No matter what you have to do." She was stroking his cheek very gently with the pad of her thumb. Her eyes shined as she repeated, "No matter what."

The tears that Harry had been so determined to keep away sprang to his eyes, and he looked down. There was no question what she meant. Ginny was giving him permission to leave her. Forever, if he had to.

She seemed to sense his inability to speak, so she said it for him. "You'll do everything you can to come back to me."

He nodded and brought his head back up to look her in the eyes. "I love you," said Ginny passionately. "Always."

"I know," Harry replied in a low voice. This was the way he always answered her. It was something he had never heard growing up, and Harry had never gotten used to hearing people tell him they loved him. He had never actually said the words to Ginny, but it was understood, and he knew that she did not doubt his feelings at all. And yet the idea of leaving her without saying those words aloud was suddenly unacceptable. There was no doubt in his mind that he loved her unconditionally. They had been through so much together, and Ginny had stood by him through it all.

He reached up to hold her face in his hands. This was important. She needed to hear this from him before he left. His voice choked with emotion. "I love you, too."

Ginny's eyes lit up, and she gave him a small smile. She knew how hard it was for Harry to say it out loud. His hands moved to tangle in her long, vibrant hair as they embraced for the last time. She leaned in and kissed him, a sweet, gentle kiss that he could still feel on his lips so many months later. He tried to absorb all the passion, love, and closeness the two of them had shared together. He needed to remember this; it would bring him strength in the days ahead.

Harry backed away, ending the kiss, and ran a finger down her arm to find her hand and squeeze it one last time. Mounting his broom and rising into the air, he looked back down to enjoy the beauty of her one last time. Then he had sped away into the clouds as fast as his Firebolt could carry him. What would come would come, and he would meet it when it did.

Everything I know, and anywhere I go

It gets hard but it won't take away my love

And when the last one falls, when it's all said and done

It gets hard but it won't take away my love

Harry woke up in the middle of the night with a searing pain in his scar. He could hear a voice whispering, and putting on his glasses he tried to look around the darkened room through the blur caused by the pain in his head. Sitting up only made the pain worse, and Harry lay back down as a wave of nausea rolled over him. He quickly racked his brain for the cooling charm Hermione had taught him and groped around in the dark for his wand. Finally, he pulled it out and pointed to his forehead, sighing as the icy sensation brought relief to the hot spots in his brain. Now able to sit up, Harry looked around for the cause of the whispering. There was not one other person awake in the bunker. Harry tried to make out the words, but the voice was too quiet to understand.

Suddenly the voice gave a loud crackling laugh, and Harry realized that the voice was not coming from the room, but from within his own head. The voice slowly became clearer until he was able to understand it.

"I'm here, Harry Potter," the phantom voice hissed, "do come out and play."

There could be no mistaking that snake-like voice, or the fact that only one person had the ability to communicate with Harry like this. Shaking slightly, Harry got up out of bed and threw on a cloak, pocketing his wand as he walked silently to the door of the bunker. It was time to end the war, once and for all.

He was glad that everyone was asleep; at least this way there would be no witnesses. This surprised Harry since it was not the way Voldemort usually worked. He was fond of having an audience for his torturous escapades. That could only mean that this time, Voldemort was afraid of losing. It gave Harry a burst of hope to know that his enemy was lacking confidence in this battle.

Harry scanned the horizon for a sign of Voldemort and began slowly walking up the bare hill. He was in no hurry to meet his death. Or to cause someone else's, no matter how evil and twisted they might be. As he rose farther on the hill, Harry could see him. A lone hooded figure stood on the horizon outlined by the moonlight. Harry's scar, which had started to throb more strongly as he approached, ripped open in pain. He doubled over, and gripping his wand tightly, performed the cooling charm yet again. He had a feeling it would not be the last time he would need it before the night was over.

As he approached, he could hear a voice hissing in his brain. Ah, young Harry, we meet again at last.

Fighting fire with fire, Harry sent his reply silently through the air. Took you long enough.

I see you've still not learned any manners, Voldemort said.

You can blame yourself for that, shot Harry. My parents being murdered, I wouldn't say I was exactly brought up correctly.

He had stopped walking now and stood only feet away from Voldemort. He could see the red eyes squinting with loathing at him.

"That's enough of the niceties," Harry said aloud, raising his wand a bit higher. "I'd say it's about time we got this over with."

"Eager to meet death, boy?" asked Voldemort with an evil twinkle in his eye.

"Only eager to introduce you," Harry answered smartly. He suddenly wished that he had thought to sneak up on his adversary. From this vantage point, with his back to the bunker, he would not be able to protect anyone coming up the hill. Harry could only hope that the others were smart enough to stay away.

As Voldemort raised his wand, Harry wondered briefly how the duel would actually take place. They were both well aware, after the fateful meeting his fourth year, that their wands could not work against each other. His question was answered as Voldemort cast a spell sending a giant serpent uncoiling from the end of his wand. The reddish black snake slithered quickly toward Harry.

"Evanesco!" He shouted as he pointed at the head of the snake, which was rising up to strike him. The snake's head burst into flame, and the fire spread briskly down the rest of its body and snapped out of sight in a puff of smoke. No sooner had the snake disappeared than a wall of flames shooting up higher than his head suddenly surrounded Harry. He glanced hurriedly around and seeing no exit, he immediately tried to extinguish the fire by shooting water from his wand. The flames did not abate however. Harry tried a flame freezing charm instead, and waiting until the flames showed a hint of blue, he raced through the fire to the other side.

It was obvious to Harry by now that Voldemort was not going to directly attack him, but instead send forth objects that would inflict harm. He watched as Voldemort gave an amused laugh, obviously enjoying the game of cat and mouse he had begun. Harry retaliated with a few summoning spells, which were quickly destroyed by Voldemort. The game continued for what seemed like hours, with each wizard conjuring something more potentially destructive than the last. Neither was able to gain much ground, as they were both equally powerful wizards.

There was no other way. Summoning every last ounce of courage, Harry pointed his wand at his chest and shouted, "Expecto Animus!"

Somewhere in the back of his consciousness Harry was aware of his body collapsing to the ground. He could hear Voldemort's victorious laughter slicing through the air. But Harry was no longer in his body. He was floating, moving through the air at an incredible speed. The spell had worked. Harry's soul, his very essence, was hurtling straight toward his enemy. He had just enough time to see the look of shock and recognition on Voldemort's face before he felt his ghost-like form hit something solid.

Harry plunged into Voldemort, feeling the icy chill as his soul spread out and tried to fill up the foreign body. It was much like trying to fit into a sweater with another person, and he felt very cold and cramped. He opened his eyes and realized that he was seeing through Voldemort's eyes. Harry had possessed him.

Voldemort was screaming and trying to shake Harry loose from within him. Harry could feel the terror and maddening panic rising up within the body that they now shared. As if their minds were joined as well, Harry knew what Voldemort was going to do. He watched in horror as he started to move over toward his own body. He tried to take control of what were now his legs, but Voldemort was too strong. Harry was running out of time.

Voldemort's arm was raising his wand to point it at Harry's body. He thought of all the people he would miss, and his mind filled with a vision of red hair. His family. Mr. Weasley, who had done his best to be a father to Harry after Sirius had died even though he already had six sons of his own. The twins, Fred and George, who had taken him under their wings to corrupt him, as only big brothers could. Mrs. Weasley, who Harry knew loved him as if he were one of her own children. And Ron, his best mate, his brother. They had been through so much together. He could never ask for a better best friend.

Suddenly, Harry felt Voldemort lurch forward, lowering his wand to catch himself as he fell to the ground. "You idiot boy," Voldemort rasped. "They don't care about you!"

But Harry knew he was wrong. The Weasleys loved him as much as he loved them. He felt his heart swell with emotion, and somehow, he knew that it was making him stronger.

He thought of Hermione, whose undying devotion, loyalty, and friendship had gotten him through so many tough times. Neville and Luna, who had followed him unthinkingly into the Department of Mysteries in his fifth year and become such good friends at the end of his school career. Remus and Hagrid, who had given him knowledge about his parents and looked out for him for so long. Their love for him had ultimately caused them both to sacrifice themselves so that he could survive. He loved them all so much; he would not be here without them.

Voldemort was screaming in agony. His body was shaking fervently now, and Harry was finding it difficult to keep himself inside. But he couldn't stop. There was one thought that pushed him to keep going, one person that he was fighting for above all others. Ginny.

Voldemort's screams of pain increased to an incomprehensible level, as if his body was being burned from the inside. Harry, however, could only feel the warmth and strength of his love for the people he cared about flowing through him. He pictured Ginny, her long, vibrant crimson hair, and her smile, which could change from beautiful to impishly mischievous at any given moment. Her laughter that could cheer him even at the worst of times. Harry loved her, everything about her. He loved her in a way he never thought possible, with every fiber of his being.

Harry suddenly felt as though he was getting bigger, expanding to the very limits of the shared body. The tight feeling was increasing, but it did not hurt him. Voldemort, whose screaming had caused a crowd from the bunker to gather at the foot of the hill, seemed to be suffering unspeakably from Harry's presence. Harry knew that the love he could feel coursing through his spirit was destroying Voldemort. Dumbledore had been right; love would be the thing to save him.

Again focusing his thoughts on the people he loved, Harry pushed his spirit to the very edges of Voldemort's body. He could hardly hear himself over the screaming, but he wanted to say it out loud regardless. "I love her." His soul glowed with the thought of having Ginny in his arms. "I love you, Ginny Weasley."

With one final ear-splitting shriek, Voldemort exploded, sending bits of red-orange flame shooting in every direction as his spirit was sucked down into the ground by a tiny, dark funnel cloud. A feeling of happiness he had never known engulfed Harry, and the world exploded into such a great number of beautiful lights that he knew nothing beyond it.

I'm here without you baby but you're still on my lonely mind

I think about you baby and I dream about you all the time

I'm here without you baby but you're still with me in my dreams

And tonight it's only you and me

Ginny woke up from a deep sleep. It had been a wonderful dream. Harry had been there. A fog swirled around him and tousled his dark hair, but his bright green eyes shone brightly through the mist. He had been smiling, and Ginny was happy to see it; Harry's smile had been so rare in the past year. But as she looked at him, the man she had loved for so long, seeming so real she could almost reach out and touch him, Ginny noticed the sadness in his eyes. He had told her that he would see her again, and that she needed to be happy. Tears ran silently down her cheeks as the realization hit her. The war was finally over.