Three Saw

"He was a kind man, a good friend, and most of all, a loving husband," my brother Ron stated, tears sparkling in his eyes.

Ha! I thought. The day my late husband married me, he stopped loving me. I shuddered recalling our wedding reception.

"Harry, sweetie, may I dance just once with Draco?" I asked my new husband.

His once twinkling green eyes immediately clouded over. "But Ginny, I want to dance with you," he said, gripping my arm a little too tightly for my liking.

"Of course, but Draco's my best friend, Harry. Besides, I've danced with you the whole night. Please?" I requested, giving him my most pathetic pouty face. I understood that Harry didn't really like Draco, but Draco had long ago reformed. Why couldn't Harry see that? Hermione had--she had even gone so far as to marry him despite all those times in school when he called her horrid names and set nasty rumors off about her.

Harry's expression remained cold, but at least he released my arm. "Fine," he said stiffly, heading towards the bar.

I had my dance with Draco, and it was wonderful. After, however, I was forced to help Harry home, as he was dead drunk. The second I closed the door to his apartment--ours now, he slapped me. Hard. "That was for the dance, wench."

It took a moment for me to register what he had just done. Surely he hadn't slapped me? But the stinging pain convinced me otherwise "What?" I whispered, massaging my cheek.

He slapped me again. "Did I stutter?" he asked coldly before turning away.

I slept on the couch that night.

"He cared most of all about his beloved wife. He was always at her side. He even stopped an evil, foul man from harming her. He saved many, many lives," Ron continued, his voice starting to crack.

Once again, it was glorified nonsense. He ruined many lives, just as he had saved so many. And always at my side? He stalked me like a predator stalks its prey. He was always ready to pounce and so he did, upon my closest and dearest friend, Draco Malfoy, who had no intention of harming me.

"Harry! Please stop!" I begged, tears pouring down my face. Damn his drinking habits; his excuses. He had no reason for this abuse. I had been nothing but loving to him, the perfect wife. I cooked his meals, I cleaned the apartment, and I always helped him through his hangovers.

"Not until you admit it," he stated calmly, as if there was nothing wrong with this. He then punched me again, right in the stomach.

I fell to my knees in agony. What was he talking about? What had I done to deserve this? "Admit what?" I asked aloud, wondering what I could have possibly done to anger him.

"That little friend of yours, Malfoy, you two are seeing each other. Don't deny it!" he hissed at me, twisting my arm behind my back painfully.

What the hell was he on about? Draco and I were best friends, nothing more. "Harry, please, I'd never--"

"SHUT UP, WHORE!" he roared, interrupting me. I hated seeing him like this. I hated the way he hurt me all the time. He kicked me again before storming off. "Malfoy will pay," I heard him mutter, as he slammed the door on his way out.

* * * * *

"You killed him didn't you?" I whispered in horror, staring at my husband in a new light. I had thought him capable of many things, but never this.

"Perhaps I did, love, but that is none of your business. You'll keep your pretty little mouth shut, won't you?" he said, smirking cruelly. Where was the man I used to know and love? Where? I had married a wonderful, kind man, but he had long ago disappeared. Now I was married to a murderer.

I hesitated for a moment. Could I really stand aside and let Harry get away with this? I felt a punch hit my face and quickly decided. "Of course I will," I whispered, trying my best to keep the tears from spilling. Draco, please forgive me, I mentally asked my now dead friend. How could Harry have thought we had done anything together? Didn't he trust me? That was a stupid question, if he trusted me, would this be happening? No.

Another swing hit my chest. "Good," he said. "Then let's get ready for his funeral."

You know, I regret not stepping forward now. All the pain Harry caused me, all of it could have stopped then. But I kept my mouth shut. I hid the bruises; I never uttered one word about what had truly happened. Harry told everyone Draco had tried to rape me or some other nonsense. It tore apart Draco's family. His wife, Hermione, went crazy. Their children are in therapy. His mother, Narcissa, committed suicide. All because I kept my mouth shut.

I realized tears were about to spill out of my eyes, but I was determined not to cry at Harry's funeral, so I held them back. Ron went on, "Harry Potter was a good man until the very end. We will always remember him as not only the man who stopped Lord Voldemort, but the Man-Who-Lived." With those final words, Ron burst into tears.

I recalled the last time I saw Harry alive. He was drunk, as usual.

I couldn't stop myself from crying. "Harry, what happened to you? You used to be so... Nice." I sobbed, watching Harry intently.

After he had put me in the hospital, he still continued to hit me. He had done so just moments ago. "What happened--What the hell are you talking about? I'm the same Harry you married." He slapped me. Probably for questioning his personality. "I'm going to go now, you stupid bitch! Don't expect me back for a while."

I nodded, still crying. "Don't you love me anymore?"

Thinking back, I never heard his response. Either that or I don't remember it. No matter though, I don't care. He died the next day, after he defeated Voldemort. No one really knows how he died; the Coroner couldn't find a thing wrong with his body--not even a trace of magic left over from Avada Kedavra. I don't miss Harry. I hate him. And I'm glad he's gone. He never did me any good after we were married. I look around me and realize now that the service is over. People are standing around, about to leave. Everyone is crying or sobbing except for me. I throw back my head and laugh.