My Choice

Harry Potter sat in the grass and gazed out at the small valley that housed the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. He had been sitting there for most of an hour but to him it seemed like forever. It had been two weeks since he had left Hogwarts, the school of magic that had been his home for seven years, and it had been almost a week since the celebrations had finally died down. Everyone in the Wizarding World had celebrated the second defeat of the Dark Lord Voldemort, well almost everyone. Harry hadn't. He hadn't because he knew there was no victory to celebrate. Voldemort hadn't been defeated, not really. Just like sixteen years ago, he had merely been temporarily driven from his body, and, just like sixteen years ago, it had taken the death of someone Harry loved to do it.

This was Harry's last day at the Burrow. Tomorrow he would leave and, together with Remus Lupin, the last survivor of the band of friends known as The Marauders, search out Voldemort's hiding place. The Dark Lord was weakened from the loss of his body and now was the time to hunt him down and destroy him before he could find a way to get his body back.

That had been their mistake the first time. When Harry's mother's sacrifice had driven Voldemort off, no one pursued. Everyone had hoped that he wouldn't come back, but no one took the responsibility to make sure. Harry was only a baby then but now he was grown. Now, he would make sure that the thing that had killed his parents, killed so many of his friends, and killed Albus Dumbledore would never return.

The final attack came at the Hogsmeade rail station, just as the students were preparing to board for the journey back to London. Harry had been one of the last students to leave the castle, wanting to say good-bye one more time to the closest thing to a home he had ever known. He had just walked through the great iron gates, with Professor Dumbledore at his side, when the attack began. Even in the bright summer sunlight, they could see the flashing of curses as Death Eaters attacked the students. Dumbledore immediately began to run when Voldemort appeared before them.

"Professor Dumbledore," the Dark One had hissed, "at last, we meet again."

"Tom," was the Headmaster's calm reply.

Voldemort grinned, his lipless mouth pulling up at the corners revealing short pointed teeth.

"I've come here personally, to kill you... You and little Harry here."

"You will not harm Harry Potter," again Dumbledore's reply was calm and matter-of-fact.

"Oh, yes, I will. The only question is: who shall be first?"

"I will not permit you to harm one of my students, Tom Riddle."

"That is not my name!" the man/snake hissed. "I am Lord Voldemort!"

"No, you are Tom Marvolo Riddle, a lonely boy who was undeservedly cast aside by an unfeeling father."

"You will not mention that Muggle in front of me!" Riddle screamed. "I have had my revenge against him and now I will have it against you and that Potter whelp!"

"Harry has never taken action against you, Tom. It is you who attacked him. You have no cause to harm him, and I will not allow it." Harry was amazed that the Headmaster could stay so calm. Harry himself was shivering with rage and horror and terror at facing Voldemort again.

"I WILL HAVE MY REVENGE!"

"No."

"Stand aside, you old fool! Your time will come soon enough."

"No."

Harry knew that, one way or another, Voldemort would try to kill him. He wouldn't allow Dumbledore to die in his place, as so many others had. He had lost too many people to want to see another die as well. Dumbledore stood before Harry with his arms spread as a shield. Harry ducked low, and was under and away before Dumbledore even realized he was moving. Harry took two steps before his foot caught on an exposed root and he fell.

As the ground rushed up to him, Harry heard Voldemort cry in triumph, "Avada Kedavara!"

Harry braced for the impact of the curse, but none came. He turned his head to see Professor Dumbledore caught in mid-air as green light flashed around him. In a heartbeat, the light was gone and Dumbledore's body fell. Harry stood shakily and faced the grinning spectre of Voldemort.

"How touching," he sneered. "And now for you... AVADA KEDAVARA!"

It was happening all over again. In his mind, Harry saw himself as a baby, lying in his crib, as Voldemort cast the same curse at him. The green light flew at him, surrounded him, coated him in death, but never reached him. With a crash, the curse struck back at its caster. A soul-wrenching scream split the air. It felt as if a miniature tornado whipped around Harry, he could feel the hatred contained inside it. The wind pulled at his hair and dust stung his eyes as the resurrected body of Lord Voldemort crumpled to the ground. Harry couldn't bear to look at it; instead he was drawn to his fallen Headmaster.

Albus Dumbledore lay composed, as peaceful in death as he had been in life. Harry cradled the body to him and hot tears fell down his cheeks. He had let it happen again. He had let someone he loved die in his stead. Anguish broke over him as he screamed his pain to the world. The sounds of conflict awoke him from his misery. People were still fighting at the station. They didn't know that the war was already over.

His stomach churning with revulsion, Harry lifted the body of the Dark Lord and slung it over his shoulder. The path to the train station was well worn and downhill, and Harry strode onto the platform moments later. Curses flew around him as he walked plainly out to the center of the wide wooden platform. Almost at once, everything came to a standstill. It was deathly quiet as Harry shrugged the corpse off his back and allowed it to fall across a heap of trunks being used as a barricade. Voldemort's head lolled limply back and his red eyes stared up at the sun. Some of the younger students screamed, and the sound of it all but drowned out the popping noise of surviving Death Eaters Dissapparating away. Their leader was gone and they needed to find alibis.

The celebrations began as the Hogwarts Express pulled into Kings Cross Station. The relieved parents of each student to leave the train would cheer at their good fortune. Molly Weasley was standing on Platform 9 and ¾, a handkerchief twisted into a tight knot in her hand. When Ginny spotted her mother, she leapt into her arms and both women wept for joy. Ron was crushed into a tight hug, to be joined by a blushing Hermione when she approached. Harry held back, he could feel no joy in this victory, knowing too well the price that had been paid to gain it. When Molly saw him standing alone on the platform, she released her own children and went to him with open arms, but something stopped her. Looking into the stricken face of the young man who had not spoken a word since before leaving the castle grounds, she halted. She knew she had no comfort to offer him, and that he wanted none. Instead she laid a hand on his shoulder and spoke softly to him.

"Come, Harry. It's over now. It's time to go home."

Harry wanted to scream, to make them hear that it wasn't over yet, but he couldn't. Dumbly, he followed as Mrs. Weasley led the small group through the barrier and to a Ministry car waiting to take them all back to the Burrow.

Mr. Weasley did not come home that night. He wasn't able to return until late the second day. The Ministry was in an uproar, everyone was shouting and no one was listening. The only thing that could be agreed upon was that Harry would receive the Order of Merlin, First Class for his second defeat of the Dark Lord. Harry refused it. Remus came to visit the next day. Harry expected a long discussion about how he needed to accept the awards and praise for what he did not do, because the people needed to express their joy and relief, but it didn't come. Instead, they talked about the fight that still needed to be waged.

As they walked down the lane that ran in front of the Burrow, Remus told Harry what he knew and what he suspected.

"Dumbledore's sacrifice might have destroyed Voldemort's body again, but it didn't kill him," Harry said hollowly.

"Just like before," Remus finished. "But we can't repeat the same mistakes we made before. We can't just hope that Voldemort stays gone. We know he is still out there, and we know he won't stop until he returns again."

"Unless we stop him."

"Yes, Harry, unless we stop him."

"But how?" Harry asked. "If he doesn't even have a body, how can we find him? And if we do find him, how can we kill him?"

"We know how he survived before, and where he hid. We can start there, at least"

"When do we leave?" there was no question between the two that both would be going.

"In a week or two," came Remus' answer. "Let things settle down a bit here, and we need to gather up all the information we can."

In the days that followed, very little was learned. The Death Eaters that escaped had all found alibis of varying strength to show that they were not at the scene of the attack. The Death Eaters that hadn't, all claimed to be under the Imperius curse. It was up the Ministry to sort out who was telling the truth, Harry was confident that none of them were, and punish those responsible. All of it was a waste of time, Harry knew. The people ultimately responsible were the ones who had not pursued Voldemort the first time, the ones who had celebrated a temporary respite instead of working for an ultimate victory. Harry would not make that same mistake. He would not give Voldemort another chance to return.

Harry hadn't told anyone he was leaving. There was no point to it. They would just try to argue him into staying. 'You're too young,' Molly would exclaim. Hermione would say, 'It's not your responsibility. Let the Ministry handle that.' But Harry knew it was his responsibility, and he had to go. He would leave them a note in the morning before going to meet Remus in London. He would leave tomorrow and he had no idea when, or even if, he would return.

So caught up was he in his thoughts that he didn't hear any footsteps approaching. The first thing he noticed was a shadow falling across him as Ginny sat down on the grass. He looked over at her and noticed that she was wearing her school robes. This struck him as odd, usually in the summer all the Weasley children would dress in Muggle clothes. It was just more comfortable than the hot woolen robes they wore at school. Then he looked in her eyes and saw something there that he had never seen before. It was a look of sad determination. A look, Harry imagined, that she also saw in his.

"So," she began, "you're leaving tomorrow." It was a statement and not a question.

"Yes," Harry wondered how she knew. "Look, Ginny, don't try to talk me out of this. I..."

"have to do it. Yes, I understand, Harry."

Harry continued to look at her, her face, her eyes. It was like she was someone that Harry had never seen before, like she was no longer the shy girl who giggled and blushed around him. Harry no longer knew who she was at all.

Deliberately, Ginny leaned towards Harry and kissed him. Hard. Harry, surprised, tried to pull back from her but Ginny only grasped a handful of his hair and held him in place. Harry resisted, but only for a minute. His mind raced, but his teenaged body responded to the girl in front of him. He kissed her back. His arms wrapped themselves around her and pulled her to him. Their kisses were fierce, without a trace of bashful youth or uncertainty. Harry pushed her back onto the grass and lay over her. She released his mouth and moved down. She kissed, sucked and bit at his neck, ranging her way back up to his ear. Harry gasped in pleasure-pain and pulled her more tightly to his chest. She responded by pushing him up and away from her. Her eyes were dilated and her breath came in short and rapid gulps. With trembling fingers she reached up and undid the clasps of her robes, letting it fall away.

Harry had barely a moment to register that she wore nothing underneath before she pulled him down to her again. Her mouth devoured his hungrily and her hands pulled his to her breasts. Harry didn't know what to do. This was Ginny, his mind screamed, Ron's little sister. What was he doing? But his body knew differently. This was a woman, and she wanted him. Responding of their own accord, his hands kneaded her soft flesh. He marveled at the smooth texture and contours. He bit into her neck as she had bitten his. She rewarded him with a deep moan. Her hands went to the waist of his shorts and quickly undid them. Rising up slightly she brought her lips to one of his nipples and, as he shuddered in response to her light sucking, she pushed his shorts down and out of the way. Harry felt himself being released and pushed Ginny back onto the grass. He wanted her and he had no doubt that she wanted him as badly. He pushed his mouth against hers and forced his tongue between her lips. Ginny twisted her mouth out of the way and Harry hungrily began to kiss her neck. She shifted slightly and her knees parted. Harry found himself between them. He lifted his weight and Ginny spread herself further. Harry paused, fumbling, unsure of what to do next, when Ginny again took control. Reaching down, she grasped him and guided him to where she wanted him. Slowly, Harry pushed forward. Ginny moaned. Taking this as a sign of encouragement, Harry pushed a little deeper, only to have Ginny gasp in obvious pain. Frightened, Harry stopped.

"Gin," he gasped, "are you sure? I don't want to hurt..."

Ginny gave him no time to finish. Grasping his hips with both hands, a look of fierce determination in her eyes, she pulled him down onto her as she raised her hips to meet his. Impaling him fully inside herself. Now Harry gasped, he could see that her eyes were screwed tightly shut against what was happening. He tried to stop but she entangled her legs in his, preventing him from moving. Slowly, she began to rock her hips, grinding them against his. Again, all thought left him as his body instinctively responded to her actions. He matched her movement for movement, thrust for thrust. All care lost in the act. Soon release came and he shook with climax. Harry looked into Ginny's eyes. Gone was that fire of determination. In its place was a swirl of emotions that Harry couldn't begin to fathom. She kissed him again, not the hard kisses they shared before but a soft and gentle kiss that spoke of things much deeper than just need. Harry became lost in it and was bewildered when she broke away. Ginny released her legs from his but hugged herself tightly to his chest. She buried her face into his neck and Harry couldn't tell if her breath came in gasps or sobs.

Later, when they both had regained control, they rolled apart. He wanted to thank her. He wanted to ask her why. He wanted to know what had just happened but as he opened his mouth, she silenced him with a look.

"No, Harry," she said. "This was my choice... My choice."

With that she gathered her robes around herself and fled back towards the house.

The next morning, before anyone else was up, Harry left the Burrow, maybe for the last time. He walked down the lane without looking back. He never noticed the tear-stained eyes watching him from the third floor window.

* * * * *

As Harry walked up the lane, he was surprised at how little things seemed to have changed with the passage of time. The grass still grew tall along the edges, just as it had when he had been here the last time. So much time had passed since then, and so much had happened, that Harry Potter was expecting everything to be different somehow. He ran a hand through his tangled thatch of black hair, as was his habit when he was thinking. He didn't even notice of the quantity of grey hair that was mixed in with the black. He didn't care how he appeared, after all, and some grey hair was little enough to show for all the things he had seen, and done, in the last five years.

Up ahead, at the end of a long and twisting drive, stood a ramshackle old house that looked like it had been built in spurts. Its many levels tilted and swayed so much that any onlooker would have to wonder what kept them from sliding apart and falling to the ground. A weathered sign stood in the front yard, "The Burrow" it read in a sloppy almost childish hand. Harry looked at the home with a nostalgia that was almost a physical thing, but he could not bring himself to approach it, at least not yet. Instead, he skirted the front yard and walked around the garden to the hills behind it. The grass tickled his ankles as he waded through it. He was headed, without really thinking of a destination, to the top of a hill where he could look down at the village. It was there that he had spent his last afternoon here and it was only fitting that it was also where he would return first.

As he approached the hilltop, he saw that someone was already there. It was a young woman with long red hair. The sun shining down on it brought out fiery highlights and so many shimmering colors that made him wonder why they called it merely red. He approached as quietly as he could.

"Would you like some company?" he asked quietly.

"Not especially," was the mechanical answer, then something struck. She must have recognized the voice because she practically jumped to her feet and spun around.

"Harry?" the question was filled with doubt, as if she had dreamt this scene many times before and couldn't believe it was now real.

Harry slowly nodded and watched as emotions flew across Ginny's face faster than he could identify them. He didn't know whether she would hug him or slap him. She decided on neither. Instead she took a step backwards and reigned herself in tightly.

"You've come back?"

"Yes, I reckon I have."

"Then it's done?"

Harry sat in the grass and Ginny followed suit. She gathered her legs and wrapped her arms around them.

"It's done," he said slowly.

They sat like that for several minutes. Harry with his legs straight before him and Ginny with hers hugged close.

"Things seem exactly the same as when I left," Harry said at length.

"Oh, things have changed all right. Everything's changed."

"It looks just the same."

"But looks can be deceiving."

He looked at her again, wondering. "Yes, they can."

"You came alone." It wasn't a question so Harry didn't think to answer. "Is Professor Lupin with you?"

Harry shook his head sadly.

"Then Voldemort..." she couldn't finish the sentence.

Harry looked into the deepest brown eyes he knew he would ever see. He had seen those eyes countless times, and dreamt of them even more. If he was truly going to come back, if he was to have a chance at staying, he couldn't lie to her or to any of them. He shook his head.

"I killed him," he whispered.

Her sharp intake of breath told of her shock. She reached a hand out hesitantly, as if to touch him, then drew it back.

"What happened?" she asked.

Harry knew he would have to tell this story. He would likely have to tell it several times, but he knew this first time would hurt the most.

He began, "We started our search in Albania, where Voldemort went into hiding the last time, but we found no sign of him. We began to search, not only for Voldemort but also for a way to destroy him. To get by, we hunted dark creatures for the rewards the locals would pay to be rid of them. Last fall, in Transylvania, we were researching in the library of Vladimir Vasillai..."

"The vampire?" Ginny interrupted, "I thought he was just a legend?"

"The Boy Who Lived is just a legend, too," Harry answered before continuing. "He had a huge library, thousands of volumes, all of them old and full of dark magic. It was there that we found the spell that we could use to destroy Voldemort."

"Was it...?"

"Yes, it was the darkest of magics. It was a soul stealing spell." Ginny gasped. "With it, we figured we could suck Voldemort's soul into one of us, just like he would invade people's bodies before, people like Quirrell."

"But Voldemort is so powerful, how could you prevent him from taking you over?"

"He had been weakened, we knew that. We also knew that, given time, he would conquer either one of us and then he would be far down the road to returning in full again, but there would be a window, a period of time when his soul would be completely under our control."

"But how could you destroy him? He would be inside... a part of one of you?"

"What we would have to do, during that short window, is to kill the host."

Harry looked away from her, not wanting to see her face when the meaning of what he had just said sank in.

"How did you decide which of you would do it?"

"We fought about that for quite some time. I told Remus that Voldemort hated me, he had always wanted to kill me, therefore I would be his most likely target. He would love the idea of taking over my body and forcing me to destroy myself. Remus argued that it meant that he wouldn't choose me, wanting instead, to be able to see me being destroyed." Harry looked up at the sun and blinked his eyes to clear away the burning that threatened to escape them. Ginny reached out one hand and placed it gently on his leg.

After a minute, Harry continued, "I told him that couldn't let him do it, that I had lost too much, too many people, already. I couldn't be the instrument of losing another. I would rather die than kill him." Harry took a shuddering breath and struggled to maintain his control. "He said the same things to me, and that he could never kill James and Lily's son. We argued back and forth all through the winter, all the while laying our trap."

"Your trap?"

"For Voldemort. We might have found a way to destroy him but we still hadn't found him yet."

"How did you find him?"

"Voldemort was a Parcelmouth; he was always fond of snakes," Harry said.

Ginny nodded, "Especially Basilisks."

"Exactly, and so that's the bait we used. We created a Basilisk."

"But Harry, they're so dangerous, just looking at their eyes..."

"Will kill. That was actually the hardest part, making one and still remaining reasonably safe. Just as the egg was hatching, we covered our faces and burned out its eys."

Ginny shook her head. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Had Harry and Professor Lupin REALLY done this? Had they sunk so deeply into the dark?

"Using the young Basilisk as bait we went hunting again. Eventually, we found him. He came out of hiding to possess the Basilisk and, before he could realize that it was a trap, Remus cast the spell and captured his soul."

"How did you decide who would do it?"

"We wound up tossing for it," Harry said softly. "I lost. As Remus cast the spell and captured Voldemort's soul, I killed the Basilisk so he couldn't escape back into it. Then, while Voldemort was still weak and under control, I..." Harry forced himself to look Ginny in the eye as he said the last part, to see for himself the disgust that he knew she would feel, that he felt himself. "I cast the Killing Curse on Remus Lupin."

He watched her, waiting for the shock to hit her. He waited for her to turn away from him in disgust, for her to call him a murderer, no better than the thing he had killed. But she didn't turn away from him. She continued to look him squarely and her eyes didn't blink as she spoke.

"I'm glad he's dead," she said at last. At Harry shocked looked, she continued, "Not Remus, never him, I'm glad Tom is finally dead."

"But at what cost?" Harry asked.

Ginny thought for a moment, "Less than the cost if he had been allowed to live. At least Remus' death accomplished something. Think of all the others who've died because of Tom, and their deaths were pointless."

Harry continued to look at her, then, slowly, he nodded his head. That was why they had gone in the first place. Why, no matter what the cost, they had to stop him. Because the cost of letting him live would be too high.

"Why did you come back?"

Ginny's question shocked him out of his revelry. "I almost didn't. After I finished taking care of things there - taking care of Remus - I almost just kept on going. I didn't see much point in anything."

"So, why come back?"

Harry hung his head. "I did a lot of thinking about you, while I was gone, about what happened that last day. I came to realize that I didn't know you at all. All those years in Gryffindor together, all that time here in the summers, and I didn't have the slightest idea of who you really were."

Ginny looked at him solemnly and shook her head. "No, you didn't."

Harry continued, "And after what happened, that last afternoon, I needed to ask you something."

Harry didn't see the fear that came into Ginny's eyes, he just continued to hang his head.

"What?" she asked him.

"Why?"

"Why what, Harry?"

"Why did you do it? You knew I was leaving, why would you give me..."

"Harry," she interrupted, "as I said then, it was MY choice. I didn't give you anything that day. I... I took something. I took something from you."

"What do you mean?" he asked bewildered.

"I took something from you, Harry. When you left the next morning, I was pregnant." Harry just stared as she continued. "I had a baby, your baby."

Harry sat there in stunned amazement. She had a baby? It was his? All he could say was, "Why?"

"Because it wasn't fair," she answered. "I knew you were leaving, I could just tell, and I knew that it was likely that you wouldn't be coming back. And it just wasn't fair! You had lost so much already, you had sacrificed so much. Other people were celebrating, rejoicing in what they had, and all the time you had nothing. You had nothing because you had lost it all so that they wouldn't have to. It just wasn't fair that you had to go, to finish the job that no one else would, and then there would be nothing left. Nothing left of you to enjoy what you had bought for us all. So, I did what I did. I knew what would happen - I am a Weasley, after all - and I took a part of you so that, no matter what happened, a part of you would still be here. So that, in a way, you would still be here, to see what you had done for the rest of us. So that you would have some sort of future."

Harry was speechless, almost beyond thought from the power of what she had just said, of what she had done.

"It was my choice, Harry, my responsibility. You never agreed, you didn't even know, and I don't expect anything from you."

Harry just looked at her. "I have a..."

"A son. You have a son, Harry."

A smile slowly crept across his face. In a heartbeat, he had gone from having nothing to having everything. They stood.

"Come on, Harry, I think there's somebody who might like to meet."

She extended her hand to him and pulled him onward.