Chainless Soul

Chainless Soul

by Cinnamon

Chapter Nine

I curled up in a tiny ball in the snow as the sun rose, glittering off the frost that had attached itself to my body and shone like a thousand diamonds. I cried then, aching, deep tears that stung my eyes and hurt my heart as every memory I had forced from my mind gently washed over me, more clear and poignant than ever before. I remembered growing up with my large, loving family, my mother and father that had done their best to provide for us and love us and raise us right. My brother Bill coming home with wild and beautiful gifts from all over the world and my brother Charlie scooping me into his arms and swinging me around and around while I laughed and laughed every time he came home on holiday. Percy tutoring me patiently whenever I would get confused in potions and Fred and George trying to desperately cheer me up every time I was sad. Ron being the best older brother and friend I could ever have had.

Then I remembered Remus and all the nights we spent sitting up together before the fire, talking about anything and everything, and how gentle and sweet he had been with me, how I had fallen in love with his smile. I remembered that morning I had waken up tangled in his arms in the snow after we had fallen asleep together, the first time I had seen him as anything more than my best friend. I remembered the way he tasted like rain and honey.

Now, the choking taste of his blood stained my throat, the salt of my tears stung my tongue, and I had left my family in the arms of a madman.

I have never wanted to die more than I wanted to in that moment. No torture Lucius and his son could have devised would have hurt me more than what I had done myself, and I would have gone completely mad and lay there stained with Remus’ blood until the snow covered my body and I died, if there was not one last thing I had to do. One last desperate bid for absolution.

I rolled over onto my back, my lips frozen, my fingers clumsy, my eyelashes heavy with frost, and clutched the amulet that still hung about my neck. “Dreamsnake,” I whispered, and the portkey instantly transported me to the bedroom Voldemort had given me.

I was shivering as I dressed myself in another of the dresses he had made me, my hair defrosting and sending rivers of water down my back.

I was hurting, it was as if all of my insides had been bruised, and as Lucius had taught me, I went looking for the source of my pain.

I found him in the Treatment Room, bending over the sobbing body of my mother. Harry was still bound in the corner, looking exhausted and numb. His eyes flickered to me when I appeared in the doorway and narrowed, the first sign of anything besides hopeless submission flickering in his eyes. “Ginny?” he whispered. Voldemort did not hear him over my mother’s pleading for mercy.

“Mercy?” He was laughing. “Fool woman.”

I tilted my head to the side, studying him. The window I had jumped out of had been repaired, and here was Voldemort, going about his business torturing my family. He wasn’t looking for me, wasn’t grieving because he thought I was dead. Nothing. Laughing at my mother. And he had professed to love me?

The hatred I felt for him suddenly grew inside of me, crackling like lightning and burning like fire. He lifted his wand again, my mother’s eyes glowing with terror, and I shrieked, “Stop it!”

Voldemort turned. My mother’s eyes flew to the door, and she started to sob all over again. “He told me you were dead,” she whispered weakly, blood bubbling from her lips.

“No, Mama,” I whispered, staring at her in horror. She looked so much smaller and weaker than I’d ever seen her before.

“Ginny,” Voldemort said, his voice heavy with warning. “What are you doing?”

“I want you to stop. It wasn’t their fault,” I said.

He sighed. “Ginny, I told you—”

“You lied.” I walked into the room. I fell to my knees at my mother’s side. I forced a smile. “I’m sorry, Mama,” I said. “I was confused.”

She smiled up at me, reaching up with one bloodied hand and stroking my hair. “It’s all right, baby,” she said.

“Ginny. Get out of the way.” He was losing his patience.

I looked up at him, gripping my mother’s hand in mine. “Get away from her,” I snarled. “You can’t have her.”

His tone changed suddenly to that silken, soothing one he had used so often on me. “Ginny, you don’t understand. I need her. I need them all. It’s a new spell I’ve found, a strength spell. It feeds of snake venom and human pain. The more pain they feel, the stronger I become. You don’t want me to die, do you, Ginny? I thought you loved me.”

My eyes narrowed and I growled. “You made my mum cry,” I hissed. That had suddenly become more important to me than my own comfort and survival. My mother. She had forgiven me for more sins than I could even count. For being weak enough to lose myself in the monster Lucius and Voldemort had created.

“Ginny. Move. Now.” He was angry again, and with a flick of his wrist and a mumbled spell, he flung me off of my mother and then called out, “Crucio!” pointing his wand at her. I threw myself forward an instant before, landing over my mother. The spell hit me instead, and I fell back, screaming as it tore through me like liquid silver. My throat bled with the force of my screams.

“Ginny!” Tom snapped, sounding like a petulant little boy. “You’re quickly out growing your usefulness.” He raised his wand, his eyes, bearing no resemblance to Tom Riddle’s moss green now and all scarlet, glowing red, glaring into mine.

The pain was immense, but I had felt worse. The things Lucius had done to me made physical pain easy to handle, and I forced myself to my feet, though blood trickled out of the corner of my lips from my ravaged throat. I lunged at him, my hands raised and my fists curled into claws. I hit his chest and he fell back a step, easily shoving me away.

“You could have had everything,” he snarled. “I would have given you the world.” And then he raised his wand once more. “Avada Kedavra!”

Green fire shot towards me, and I felt my mother’s hands close about the hem of my robe. She jerked hard and I fell back, landing on top of her. The green fire wrapped around us both, like a black cold, sucking the heat from my body. Every nerve inside me felt like it had been split down the middle, aching with a cold fire. I had thought for sure that I would die, I could hear the soul inside me, half mine, half Tom’s, shrieking as the green magic violated and tore it apart.

And then there was calm, soothing, softness and light as the green magic drained away, as if someone had drawn it out of my body. And into hers.

My mother had taken all of the magic into herself.

I lay there on top of her for a moment, nearly dead, my soul aching, and… and feeling lighter than it had since my first year of Hogwarts. I didn’t understand.

I forced myself up onto my hands and knees, hearing Harry’s gasp as I got to my feet. Voldemort stood on his knees before me, his eyes oddly dark, empty, his lips struggling for breath. That was when I realized what had happened. The magic had taken his soul, not mine. Voldemort was as weakened by his spell as I was.

I wanted him weaker still. I wanted him dead.

I shrieked as I lunged at him, knocking him backwards, my hands curled into claws as I tore at his throat, his dark blood pumping feebly all over me as his hands weakly pushed at me. I ripped at his throat until my fingers reached his spinal cord and I could taste the copper salty blood in my mouth. Then, even though he lay dead beneath me, I wiped my teary face on the back of my hand and started scratching at his eyes, which were staring vacantly up at me, a flat, glassy moss colour. I slashed them until there was nothing left of his face but bloody shreds, and then, sobbing, I pounded on his chest with my fists, probably the only girlish thing I did to him, the only violence I took out on his body that was not propelled by the animal in me but the girl.

I crawled away from him then, sticky with his blood, and went to my mother, gathering her up in my arms and rocking her. “You’ll be all right,” I told her gently. Her lips were twisted in a tiny smile and her eyes stared up at the ceiling blankly. Her hand was cold in mine. “You’ll be all right.”

“Ginny,” Harry called. “Ginny, come here.”

I ignored him.

“Ginny!” He screamed, trying desperately not to cry. I didn’t turn.

I was distantly aware of running footsteps in the hall, but still, I did not stop to look. I was rocking my mother and running my fingers through her red hair, singing softly to her, that same lullaby I had sung when Lucius had been hurting me that had infuriated him so.

“Ginny. Oh god, Ginny, oh my god. What have they done to you?” Someone whispered, before taking me into his arms. My mother slipped from my lap and I started to fight against him, desperate to pick her up from the floor before she got dirty. “Shh. It’s all right, it’s all right,” he whispered, stroking my bloody hair. “God, Ginny, how long has your mother been dead?”

I stiffened in his arms and then jerked away with all my strength. I didn’t look up at him, I crouched over my mother and stroked her face gently. “She’s not,” I said. “She’ll be all right.”

Harry was there suddenly, kneeling on her other side. Someone else stood behind him, but I didn’t care, I didn’t look. My mother’s skirt was riding up and her slip was visible. My hand was shaking when I tugged it back down, and Harry grabbed my hand that was still stained with drying blood. “Ginny,” he said very gently. I wonder where he got his strength from. If I was him, I would have been a mess. “Go with Lupin. We’ll take care of this.”

“Remus is dead,” I said dully. “I killed him.”

“God,” the man who had held me breathed. “Ginny. Sweetheart. No.” He pulled me against his chest again, cradling me and whispering, “I’m all right, I’m fine.”

“Take care of her,” Sirius said wearily. “C’mon, Harry, we’ve got to free the others… And tell them… tell them about Molly.”

I started to sob brokenly at my mother’s name, and Remus, the man who held me so gently against his chest, tightened his arms around me and rocked me tenderly.

He lifted me easily into his arms and carried me from the room, and I clung to his shoulders, whimpering and crying. He brought me to the room I had used, laid me gently on the bed, and pulled my clothes off gently, wrapping me in a blanket. I was too numb to help.

He knelt before me, pushing my sticky hair out of my face. “Ginny,” he said firmly. “I’ll be right back, I promise. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”

I didn’t even really hear him, I was still crying. He swore softly and kissed my lips very gently. “I promise,” he repeated, and then he left. Probably to check on the others.

I sat there numbly on the bed for a long time, staring at my bloodstained hands. I didn’t know who to mourn first, myself, or my mother. I looked up only when Nagini appeared at the door, watching me with her timeless eyes. She came inside and I knelt on the floor, gathering her up in my arms and lifting her onto the bed. I curled up in the center of the bed and she coiled herself around me protectively. I fell into a restless sleep a few moments later, still stained with blood and tears.

Remus returned a while later, closing the door carefully and carrying a bowl of warm water and a cloth. I woke up the instant he stepped into the room, watching him with stinging, dull eyes as he glanced first at my bloody face and then at the snake that lay twisted up around me. Nagini watched him as well but apparently judged him harmless. She lay her head back down.

He didn’t speak as he knelt beside the bed, gently washing the blood off of my face, and neither did I. He washed the blood off my hands and arms as well, and then my neck and chest. Only when the water was crimson with blood did he finally say anything. His fingers were stroking the dark mark on my arm.

“What have they done to you, Ginny?”

“Who?” I asked dully.

He glanced at my face quickly and then back at my hands before going back to trying to scrub the blood and bits of skin out from under my fingernails. “Harry told us what happened in there. To Voldemort.”

“I killed him.” My voice was toneless. I was staring up at the golden canopy.

“Harry said.”

“I killed you too.”

The cool cloth paused and then resumed gently scrubbing. “Ginny, you didn’t kill me. I wasn’t dead.”

“I tore you apart.”

“But I wasn’t dead. Sirius was back at the cabin waiting for me, I had come to check to make sure that Voldemort was still in this building. We were going to sneak in and rescue you today. I saw you jump and I followed you. You attacked me.”

“Lucius taught me how,” I said quietly. “He taught me how to kill.”

He glanced at me sharply. “Lucius Malfoy?”

I shuddered, sucking in a gasping breath. “He hurt me,” I whimpered.

Remus glanced away and cleared his throat and then continued. “You attacked me and then you left, and I healed. I heal fast, remember? Then Sirius found me and helped me back to the cabin. This morning, we came to rescue you.”

I didn’t say a thing, still staring at the canopy, wrapped in Nagini.

He touched my face, tilting it towards him, and I trembled, fighting tears. I didn’t want to start crying again, because I didn’t think I’d ever be able to stop. His hand was still resting on my cheek, and his thumb was stroking my lower lip absently. “Ginny…” he whispered helplessly. “I’m so sorry I didn’t find you soon enough. I looked. That night they took you, I searched all over. They had masked their scent so I didn’t know who they were, but I found your blood and the silver arrow. I went mad, Ginny. I went to Dumbledore and told him that you were gone, and he promised to look for you but said it wasn’t going to do much good. Werewolves go missing all the time like that, trained to fight for the American pits.”

I shivered. “I thought you didn’t even look for me. Draco said you were glad I was gone.”

“I wasn’t,” he swore. “We all searched for you. I went to your family and told them that you were missing. I told them you were a werewolf and it was my fault, and that someone had taken you. They helped me search, but we didn’t know where to look. And then… and then, while I was with Dumbledore, Snape came and told us that he’d seen you with Voldemort at this hospital, and I ran to your family, I was going to tell them. Sirius wouldn’t let me though, he didn’t want them to worry any more than they already were, and we started planning how to get you out. But we weren’t fast enough, I’m sorry. God, I’m sorry.”

“I tried to be brave,” I said, whimpering and breathing heavily, fighting the urge to cry. “I tried. But… but he raped me, and then he said… that… I was as good a whore for him as I was for you.” My voice broke, but I didn’t cry. “And then he hurt me more.”

He was washing away the blood that had soaked through my clothes and stained my belly. His fingers traced the network of scars there, scars from the molten silver Lucius had used on me more than once. His fingers were trembling, and he kissed every scar.

“You were a thousand other things to me, but never that,” he whispered, resting one hand on my bare stomach. “I’ll kill him, Ginny. I will. I’ll rip him apart.”

That’s when I started to cry. Remus only watched helplessly. Nagini glanced from me to Remus and back again and, as if recognizing that she need not guard me any longer, she slipped from the bed and went to curl up before the fire. I was still crying painfully, and Remus got onto the bed beside me and pulled me onto his lap, holding me tightly and stroking my back until I fell asleep in his arms.

I woke up a while later when there was a knock on the door and Sirius came in, watching me with something indecipherable in his eyes. “Moony, Dumbledore’s here, as well as Fudge. You might want to come help me deal with him, they’re trying to get me to let them in to see Harry or Ginny, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea yet, especially since they brought with them a bunch of Dementors.” He glanced at me and then looked away again. “We still don’t know exactly what happened.”

I crawled off the bed then, holding the blanket around me, and skirted around Remus, standing in front of Sirius. “My mum is… is she dead?” I asked huskily. I wanted the honest truth and I knew that Remus would try to sugarcoat it for me.

Sirius glanced at me again and swallowed heavily. “Yes.”

I closed my eyes and nodded faintly. “And… And my daddy? And Ron? Fred? Percy? George?”

“They’re all right. Percy and Ron needed to be healed. They’re all pretty upset, of course, about Molly.”

“Do… do they hate me?” I asked quietly.

“Ginny,” Remus began.

Sirius was still studying my face solemnly. “Harry’s been asking about you,” he said. “He’s been fighting me to let him come and see you. He’s worried.”

“You won’t let him?” I whispered. “I’d like to see him.”

Sirius shrugged. “I’m not—I wasn’t sure…” He trailed off. “Dumbledore wants to see you. And so does Snape. Word’s already spreading all over the wizarding world, Ginny. You’re a hero.” He sneered a little, and I flinched. “They seem to think this whole thing was you working undercover to kill Voldemort.”

I stumbled back a step, cringing, and again, the instinct to hurt him for causing me discomfort came to life in my veins. I wearily restrained it. After all, I had killed my own mother. I was a monster. I touched the Dark Mark on my arm and looked away.

“Sirius.” Remus snapped. “Now is not the time.”

He sighed, and touched my shoulder awkwardly. “I know. I’d better go, Dumbledore needs help dealing with Fudge. I’ll send Harry in to see you, Ginny.” He left, and Remus didn’t speak for a moment. I pulled a dress on with numb fingers and dropped the blanket, wandering over to the fire and collapsing before it, curling up like a dog. Remus watched me carefully, worry darkening his eyes, but he didn’t speak. I don’t think he really knew what to say.

I stared into the fire for a long time before the door slowly opened and Harry peered in. Remus left with one more concerned look over his shoulder and Harry came in.

“Ginny?” He called, sitting down nearby. I sat up, studying his face solemnly. He reached over and smoothed some of my hair out of my face. I flinched away from his hand. He smiled gently, soothingly. “Things are going crazy out there,” he told me. “Wizards everywhere have come, no one believes that a seventeen year old girl could have killed Voldemort. They’re calling you The Girl Who Lived.” He smiled a little.

I knew he was trying to calm me down and I also knew it must have been terribly hard for him. My mother had been the closest thing to a mum he’d ever known and he had just watched her die. “Will… Will they send me to jail?” I asked.

He sighed. “Ginny, it wasn’t your fault.”

For a long time we sat that way, our legs crossed and knees touching, not saying anything. The fire crackled and the silence was soft and aching. Every time I blinked, I saw my mother’s dead face, frozen in a smile, her eyes wide and glassy.

I squeezed my eyes shut and took a deep breath, and when I spoke, my voice was tiny. “I killed her, Harry. I killed my mum. I’m a monster, they should lock me up forever.”

Harry cupped my chin in his hand and his voice was furious. “You didn’t kill her, Ginny, Voldemort killed her. I was there; I saw. He killed her like he killed my parents, and saying you’re responsible for that is like saying I’m responsible for the death of my mum and dad, and that’s pathetic, really.”

I pushed him away, angry that he would offer me forgiveness when I could not even forgive myself. “I gave her to him! I gave them all to him!” I cried, my voice thick with tears that were falling unrestrained down my face. I was pacing the room angrily, choking and gasping for breath, shouting. My voice rose with every word. “It was like there were thousands of voices in my head and I couldn’t tell what was right anymore and nothing made sense except that I was hurting and my daddy was supposed to scare the monsters under the bed away but he wasn’t there and why wasn’t he there? Because I ran away and it was all my fault and every time Lucius made me bleed, it was because I hadn’t thought my family loved me enough and it was my fault and I hate it and the voices wouldn’t stop and then everything broke into pieces again and—” I was hyperventilating, still screaming, and I couldn’t breathe. Everything started spinning and I started screaming wordlessly, tearing at the insides of my wrists with my fingernails and shrieking, falling to my knees. I started scratching at my face then, and my temples, trying to make the screaming stop, but it wouldn’t stop. Nothing would make the screaming stop, and my throat was raw with it and still I couldn’t stop. “Make it stop,” I begged, still desperately trying to breathe.

Harry was there, kneeling beside me and holding my hands away from my face, whispering soft things I didn’t catch, and the door flew open. I was too lost in whatever madness it was that had taken me, I didn’t even care that it could have been a threat. If I was an animal before, I wasn’t any longer. I was just mad. The animal part of me had run screaming into the darkest part of my soul, and the human part was too scarred and terrified to know what was real any more.

Gentle hands lifted me and turned me onto my back, pulling my hands away and stroking my temples soothingly, in tiny circles. The motion calmed me, and I gradually stopped screaming, my eyes squeezed shut and blood dripping from my arms and my face where I had hurt myself. I was breathing heavily and erratically, but at least I had remembered how to breathe.

I opened my eyes and Dumbledore was gazing down at me very gently. “Now then, Miss Weasley,” he said in his voice that reminded me of hot chocolate. Warm and soothing. “It’s all right, you’re just upset. Everything will be fine. Professor Snape is preparing you a Dreamless Sleep Potion right now, that will help.”

I whimpered and grabbed his hands. “Ron,” I said weakly. “Where’s Ron? I want my brother.”

Dumbledore’s eyes were still gentle, and he smiled down at me. “All in good time, child. All in good time. Now you must rest.” I closed my eyes wearily.

“Can you drink this, Ginny?” Remus said quietly, and I looked up. He was there as well, holding a glass of Wolfsbane Potion. “It’s still the full moon.”

He lifted my head and helped me drink it, and then he lifted me up off the floor and carried me back to the bed. Snape was there suddenly, holding another potion, and looking, as usual, cold and sour. He waited until all the people who had heard me screaming and come running had filtered out of the room at Dumbledore’s insistence, and then he did something so out of character that even I, in my disoriented, numb state, was shocked.

He sat on the bed and stroked my forehead, as if searching for a fever. Then, still not speaking, he took my hand in his and turned it over, inspecting the dark mark on my arm. I watched his face through my lashes, uncomfortable in his presence. “I knew the instant he died,” he said abruptly. “I felt it. Already, the mark fades.” He pushed up the sleeve on his robe and showed me the mark on his own arm. It was dusky rose in colour, and I glanced at my arm as well. It was lighter too.

Snape’s dark eyes flicked away, and he said in a low voice, “It won’t be easy, dealing with all of this. I’ve been there, I know. But I want you to remember, Miss Weasley, that no matter what, you have done the wizarding world a great favour. Hope that that is enough to give you the strength to survive this.”

“I’m stronger than I look,” I said quietly.

He smiled at me, the smile looking rusty, as if it had not been used often recently. “You’ve proven that already. Now drink this; I expect the nightmares will be bad for a while, maybe forever. I’ll do what I can to help. We’ll all do what we can to help.”

“Thank you,” I said softly when he handed me the potion. I drained the goblet and handed it back. Snape smiled again as I started to drift off into sleep, and maybe it was just that my eyes were blurring, but the smile seemed softer. I remember that he pulled the blankets up to my chin and tucked them in around me, but again, it may have been my imagination.

If I turned into a wolf that night, I slept through it, which is in itself saying something. While no longer painful, the transformations weren’t comfortable. Every bone in my body shifted and moved. I was so exhausted, I slept through it.

I awoke the next morning when the sun was high enough to creep across the floor towards the bed. At first, I remembered nothing of what had happened, and I stared up at the canopy above, vaguely bemused and wondering at the strange fuzziness in my mind that was an aftereffect of the sleeping potion. And then Ron spoke to me from the chair beside my bed, and it all came back to me.

“Ginny,” he called quietly.

I turned to look at him slowly, not wanting to see the hatred in his eyes that I was sure was waiting for me. I gingerly sat up, pulling my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them. “Ron…” I said huskily, studying his face. He was pale, his eyes red from crying, his hair wild. There was no hatred in his eyes, only extreme weariness.

“God, Ginny…” he said, swallowing heavily.

My face crumpled and I whimpered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I—”

He looked startled and reached one hand out as if to touch me, pulling back at the last moment and letting it fall onto the bed. “No. Ginny, no. Don’t. I…”

I picked his hand up off the bed and held it tightly. He was crying, and I whimpered low in my throat. It’s strange how quickly my priorities had changed from looking after myself to looking after those I love. I guess that’s what differentiates between human and monster. I started to cry as well, and Ron crawled onto the bed, sitting beside me. I was still holding his hand, and we leaned against each other, our heads touching. “Do you hate me?” I whispered.

“I could never hate you. Harry told us what happened, that it wasn’t your fault. I knew it couldn’t be your fault, I knew you wouldn’t do that. He told me what… what Malfoy… And Voldemort… God, Ginny, we could have lost you too. You and… and mum.” His voice cracked and he buried his face in my hair, sucking in a deep breath.

“I tried to save her,” I said, whimpering. “God, Ron, I tried.”

He nodded against my shoulder and wrapped his arms around me, holding onto me tightly.

There was a knock on the door, and Dumbledore stepped inside, smiling gently at us. He took Ron’s chair at the side of the bed. “I’ve come to see if you two are ready to go home,” he said. “The ministry’s finished taking care of things here, and your father and brothers are all ready to go. They’re waiting downstairs and, before you ask, Ginny, no, they don’t hate you. They don’t blame you and the ministry has determined that you were not acting under your own will. There are other ways to control someone’s mind, other than the Imperius Curse.”

I licked my lips, aware that they were offering me absolution for my sins and unwilling to accept it. “And… what about my mother?”

He looked solemn. “She was Voldemort’s last victim, and will be remembered as such. His last victim, that is, unless you allow this to claim you as well. Tragedy claims even the strongest and purest of us all, Ginny, but to allow your entire life to be defined by one tragedy, one mistake, is to multiply that mistake a thousand times. Regrets solve nothing and, despite how paltry the words, the sentiment is sound. Time heals all wounds, and yours will heal as well, if you let them.”

“But Professor,” I said quietly. Ron wasn’t speaking, he was just holding onto me as if he feared to let go would mean I would slip away again. I did not deserve such concern. “I killed—”

Dumbledore leaned forward suddenly, his voice very serious. “Have you heard the tale of how Harry survived his own brush with the Killing Curse?” he asked.

“His mother,” Ron said softly, “Sacrificed her life for his and invoked an ancient magic that protected him.”

Dumbledore nodded. “And so, Ron, did your mother for Ginny. When she pulled you out of the way of the curse and on top of her, she drew the power of the curse into herself, dying so that you may live. She loved you very much, child. Don’t let her sacrifice be for nothing. You will get through this, you will heal, and you will become the girl you were before all this began. Maybe not as innocent and young, and with more scars than anyone will ever be able to fully understand, but you will survive this. If you don’t, your mother will have died for nothing.”

I swallowed heavily, knowing he was right and at the same time, hating him for it. It would have hurt so much less if I could just close my eyes and stop breathing. “I don’t know if I can,” I said in a shallow voice.

“Of course you can,” Ron said fiercely. “We both can.”

Dumbledore nodded approvingly. “Now, Ginny, Lupin is waiting outside to speak to you. Come along, Ron, it’s best to give them some privacy.” He smiled at me gently and waited until Ron climbed off the bed and they walked out together.

If falling in love with Remus had been the first time in my life that I had ever felt that way, I may have doubted the reality of my feelings. However, though I may have been young, I had been in love before, and I knew, in comparison, that everything I felt for Remus was so intensely real that no matter how many years would pass, I would always love him. I had once, as a child, thought I was in love with Harry, and that had been proven wrong. Puppy love. I had once thought I was in love with Tom Riddle, but again, I was wrong. Obsession. If there could be some sort of emotion more intense than what I felt for Remus, then I did not want to feel it, for I was sure that it would burn far more than the painful longing and need I already felt towards him, and if I had to feel anything more painfully sweet, it would kill me.

Some may have thought what Remus and I shared was wrong, but I knew it was right; it was everything that was good and beautiful and nothing would ever be strong enough to tear it apart. He was my best friend and I loved him and his soul, while not the other half of mine, which had belonged to Tom Riddle, was so beautiful and shadowed, cracked and painful like mine, that I knew no one else would ever understand me the way Remus did. He was a monster as well.

I had been afraid to see Remus again that day, afraid that he would tell me good-bye, that we could not be together, that he did not want to love a shattered, scarred creature like me. Especially after the way he had seen me the night before, trying to tear my own eyes out and screaming like a monster. I was worried that his eyes would mirror his disgust, that he wouldn’t want to touch me, or worse, that he’d pity me.

When he appeared in the doorway, however, looking solemn and concerned, nothing else mattered. My eyes met his and for eternity it seemed our gazes locked, a thousand emotions too intense even to describe passed between us.

I had been nervously twisting the chain of the ruby amulet Voldemort had given me around my fist and when I jumped off the bed to run to Remus, the delicate chain snapped and the necklace fell to the ground. I didn’t even notice.

With a muffled cry, I flew into his arms, burying my face against his chest and breathing deeply, though I didn’t cry. Remus held me tightly, kicking the door shut behind him, and he was breathing heavily as well, his hands shaking the tiniest bit. When he spoke, his voice was low and desperate.

“Don’t cry,” he begged. “I won’t know what to do if you start to cry again.”

I squeezed my eyes shut. “I’m so sick of crying,” I whispered. It was like I was seeing him for the first time after the weeks of being apart. Now all that mattered was that I was with him again and I knew if anyone was strong enough to help me through this, it was him. “I was so scared you wouldn’t want to touch me anymore. That I would disgust you.”

“I love you,” he breathed. “Oh god, Ginny, I love you so much it hurts.”

I whimpered and pushed my face into his shirt. “You shouldn’t,” I said. Even as I said the words I was aware of the irony of this conversation, the mirror of the one we’d had the day I was taken from him. Then it had been him who thought he wasn’t worthy of me. “I’m a monster.”

“So am I.”

I shook my head. “No, not like that. I’m broken, Remus. I’m all in pieces, I don’t even know what’s real anymore.”

“Then I’ll show you,” he said simply. “It’s not so hard. This, what we have, is real. Whatever Lucius and Voldemort told you was a lie. All of it.”

I started to cry then, not the hysterical, mad crying of the day before, but the aching, painful sobs of grief, crying over what might have been had Lucius never taken me and broken me, for the innocence I had left behind, and the man who still believed in me.

Remus tightened his arms around me, saying in a panicked tone, “No, no, shh. Ginny, you said you wouldn’t cry.”

I just closed my eyes and lay my cheek against his chest, breathing deeply as I cried. He smelled of pine and snow and smoke.

“Don’t ever do that again,” he said.

“Do what?” I asked softly, tilting my head back to look up at him.

His hands were running all over me, as if checking to make sure I was all right, that I was whole. “Try to hurt yourself.” His hands came up to stroke my face, and I caught them in my own, holding them tightly; they were still shaking. “Last night, when you started screaming and scratching yourself… I was scared,” he admitted. “You were hurting and I couldn’t help you.”

“I thought I was going to have to do it all alone, that my family would never forgive me and that you wouldn’t be able to look at me and the Dementors would take me away. I just shattered.”

He shook his head gently, pushing all of my hair off my face. “You don’t get it,” he breathed. “Ginny, your family loves you, and even if they didn’t you’ll always have me. After you were taken, I searched and couldn’t find you. I went back to the cabin, and it was so empty and quiet. I kept expecting to hear you laughing or teasing me about something, singing in the shower, something! But there was nothing. I couldn’t stand it, it was like a light had gone out. I went a little mad. I flew into a rage, trashing everything I could. I had a lot of time to think, Ginny, and you were right. This is real and I love you and I need you and without you, there’s nothing but emptiness.”

“But I’m a monster,” I whispered, pulling away. He grabbed my hand, brushing my knuckles against his cheek.

“I love you,” he said.

“You love who I used to be. I don’t laugh anymore.”

He was smiling at me as he carefully wiped away a tear that had slipped from my eye. “Ginny, I love you laughing and crying and sleeping, it doesn’t matter, I love you.”

“You can’t love me, I won’t allow you to love me, I’m an animal. I’m dirty. I have fingerprints all over me, fingerprints and scars. I’m broken and bleeding and hurting and—”

“And I’ll hold you and kiss you and love you until you get better,” he said. “Wounds heal, Ginny. You healed mine, let me heal yours. You will laugh again. No body, not even Lucius Malfoy and Lord Voldemort, can break you. I know you, I know you strong you are. You aren’t broken, Ginny. And even if you were, I’d pick up all the pieces for you and put them all back together and everything would be all right. You’re safe now. Just as I did not deserve punishment myself for having been turned into a werewolf, I will not let you punish yourself for what they did to you. I love you and I’ll say it over and over until you believe me because all this time that you’ve been gone, all I was able to think is that you would die before I got to say it to you. I should have said it before.”

It was all too painful, the words he had said. My crying became wild, uncontrolled sobbing. Remus tilted my face up to his and kissed me with an infinite gentleness that nearly caused me to break all over again, his fingertips stroking my face as his mouth explored mine gently, the only comfort he could think to give me. I kissed him back, the salty kiss more achingly painful than anything else I can remember. I stopped crying and he pulled away finally, reluctantly.

“I’ll never let anyone hurt you again,” he swore. “Never.”

“I love you,” I whispered, and he kissed me again. I gathered all the strength I could from his embrace. I knew I would need that strength to face my family.

He held my hand when we left the room, leading me down to where my brothers and father waited for me. Fudge, the Minister of Magic, tried to sweep me off to give my statement on what exactly had happened, and Remus said coolly, “Surely it can wait until after the funeral. After all, it’s not like he’s coming back.”

Fudge sputtered but before he could reply, Remus had pulled me away, down another flight of stairs, and into what had once been a waiting room. I stumbled to a stop in the doorway, hearing Percy’s soft voice speaking inside the room and suddenly feeling so ashamed that I could hardly breathe.

Remus squeezed my hand and smiled gently at me, before tugging me into the room.

Everything froze for a moment, as if it were some morbid, strange tableau, and I just stared at my remaining family. Dad, looking pale and grief-stricken, was standing with his hand on George’s shoulder, he had been talking softly to him. Fred was leaning on Percy, looking very tired, and Percy had been talking to Ron, who looked like he’d been crying again. And watching them like that, all so close together, the family I hadn’t been a part of for months, I suddenly felt awkward, like I had intruded. They stared at me too, as if I were a stranger, and they did not know whether or not I was safe to approach. Remus just waited there beside me, holding my hand.

My chest started heaving and I started to cry, holding out my hand to my father. “Daddy,” I cried. “I’m so sorry.”

He was there in an instant, his arms around me, rocking me, and crying into my hair. “I thought you were dead, baby,” he whispered.

There is nothing that feels as safe as being held by my father. I cried until my eyes were numb, and when I pulled away, Ron smiled at me and George and Fred hugged me at the same time, very tightly. They seemed different, older somehow, and when I looked into their faces, I realized it was the first time I saw them without humor glittering there. Now, their eyes sparkled with tears.

Percy was next, and I was sure, if anyone, he hated me. I turned to him warily, expecting a lecture on responsibility and damnation. Instead, he touched my arm gently and smiled, even though his eyes were red from crying. “I’m glad—” he began, his voice cracking. “I missed you.”

“Oh, Percy, I’m so sorry,” I cried, launching myself at him and hugging him tightly. He winced, the wounds Voldemort inflicted on him not quite healed despite care from the healers, but he didn’t pull away.

Remus was gone when I turned around, but I knew I’d see him again in a few days and I was even able to force a weak smile for the benefit of my father, who pulled my into his arms again.

“I want to go home,” I said quietly, after my father let me go. He smiled at me and took my hand, Ron taking the other, and together we made our way home.