Aftermath

Ginny looked down the long table at Harry. He was quiet, but that wasn't unusual. He often busied himself with eating before sitting back and conversing with the others. There were, however, two unusual things. One was that Bill Weasley sat to his right. The other was that Percy Weasley sat to his left.

Harry sat in his usual seat, but Ron had arrived at the table early, taking Percy's seat at the far end of the table. Determined to be dignified and stuffy, Percy had given Ron a haughty look and taken his seat, where he at once proceeded to lecture Harry on the importance of long lasting clasps on book bags. And Bill, rather more thoughtful than he looked, had taken Hermione's old seat, perhaps to make her absence less conspicuous. Molly had taken one chair away from the table, for it is all too easy to notice an empty seat.

Dinner was subdued affair. When everyone sat down, there had been pitiful attempts at light-hearted conversations. Quidditch, work, anything but Hermione. In the end, though, no one could think of anything to say, and most ate in silence. Even Percy ceased his sermonizing on clasps and concentrated on his plate.

A fork fell to the ground. Harry stood up, walked down the table and picked it up, handing it to Ginny. She tried to clasp his hand for a moment, but he pulled away, a little roughly. And then he walked away, without a word to anyone. Eight pairs of Weasley eyes followed him, and one pair looked angrily into his drink.

Ginny cast an embarrassed look at her family, looked back at the doorway, through which Harry had just walked, and stood up. She tried to say something, anything to explain what had just happened, but she could not even explain it to herself. So, she backed through the doorway, then turned and fled up the stairs.

Harry was sitting on Ron's bed. He wasn't crying, though his shoulders shook. She sat next to him, putting an arm around him. "You can cry, you know."

He shook his head furiously. "No. I can't. I've cried enough. It won't do anyone any good for me to cry."

Ginny gazed at him, dismayed. His voice had knives in it, knives and walls, designed to push her away. Her arm slipped from his shoulders as he stood up. She watched Harry take his trunk out from under his bed and begin to pack clothes into it haphazardly. She didn't say a word as he shrunk his broom and fitted it into a corner. She stood by as he wrote a thank-you note to Mrs. Weasley. And she said not a word when he levitated his trunk down the stairs.

The note read:

Thank you for all the kindnesses you have done me in the past nine years. You and your family have always given me a place to stay and a warm bed to sleep in. However, as you know, Ron and I are not standing on common ground at the moment, and without her to stand between us, I fear we will find ourselves attempting to duel at midnight. With that in mind, I have decided to return to the Dursleys for an as of yet undetermined amount of time.

Once again, thank you for everything.

Harry

Ginny dropped the paper. The Dursleys? She raced down the stairs.

Reaching the front of the house, and banishing that thought for the time being, Ginny flung open the front door.

"Why?"

"Why what?"

"Why do you want to go back to those horrible people? You belong with us. You need us and we need you -- especially right now." She fought the tears, determined not to use crying to make him stay.

Harry shook his head, a gesture of helplessness rather than negation. "I need to go back. I need to let them gloat over their success. I've lived in this world for too long. After fifth year, I just stopped going back altogether. And even before that, I was never really there. I was here at the Burrow, or I was with...her...on one of her trips. I need to go back there. I need to be more grounded."

Ginny threw her hands in the air. "That's not why you're going back. You're going back because you want to be punished, and you know that they are the only people stupid enough to try to keep you down."

He stepped towards her, and she stepped back. "Jesus, Ginny, you don't understand, do you? She is dead because of me. I took her out there and I am the one who wasn't paying any attention and because of that, she died. A light has gone out in our -- your world, and it is all my fault."

Ginny fought the urge to slap him. Unable to fully restrain herself, she placed both hands on his shoulders and shoved him away from her. "It's not your fault. She is dead because a gun-happy Muggle decided he wanted her purse. She was Muggle-born, Harry. She knew the dangers of the city. She should have known better than to present herself as helpless. So stop feeling sorry for yourself and grow up! She's gone, and it hurts and I miss her too. But you cannot -- you must not continue blaming yourself because all it does for you is make you seem juvenile. She's dead because she looked just a little too high-class for that neighborhood. Not because of you."

He shook his head helplessly. "No..." It was all he could manage.

"You think you failed her, but you know what, Harry? You are the only one who thinks that. You didn't fail anyone. Stay with us. Stay with me. You need your family."

She reached up and touched his cheek, but he brushed her hand away. "I don't need anybody. I don't need Ron or Dumbledore or Sirius or Lupin. I don't...I don't need you." These last words he whispered, but they fell on her heart like bricks upon glass. But she would not break down. She was not the same stupid little girl who had sent the famous Boy Who Lived a singing Valentine. She had grown up, and she would not let him see how much he could hurt her.

Ginny drew herself to her full height, which was not very tall. However, she chose her words well and the look on her face more than made up for what she lacked in stature.

"So this is what happens to the Boy Who Lived? He slinks back to the Muggles. I never thought it would happen. It won't last, I know that much. Self-loathing is not for you. You are far too proud. But, know this. While I cannot banish you from the Burrow altogether - you are far too well loved here - you have lost my heart. Look not to me for comfort or support. Look not to me for love."

The pain in his eyes was almost enough to make Ginny take it all back, throw herself at his feet and beg for forgiveness. Almost. But not quite enough.

He spoke softly. "Tell Ron where I've gone, though I doubt he will care."

As he walked away, Ginny's voice betrayed her. "How long?" she asked, unable to stop herself.

He turned, smiling at her sadly. "I don't know. Maybe forever."

A battle was going on inside of her. Finally she rushed forward and kissed him thoroughly. "I don't take any of it back. Except..." She took his hand and placed it over her heart. "It's all yours."

"I love you, Ginny. I think I've always loved you. You are my...my everything." He reached into his robes and found his wand, then pressed it into her hand. "Keep it safe for me? When I...when I come home. When I come home, will you marry me?"

Ginny nodded mutely and pushed him away. She hated it, but she knew that there was no way that she could stop him.

He stopped at the sign proclaiming the home's name, and gave her a small wave. But Ginny had a feeling that it wasn't really her he was saying goodbye to. No, it was the Burrow. It was the whole family.

"I'm your everything?" she asked the open air. "Yes. I'm your everything because you're out of Hogwarts and Ron blames you and Hermione's gone. I'm your consolation prize."

And she sat there, in her doorway, and wept. And when her brother came upon her and begged her to tell him what was wrong, she would not speak, and instead withdrew to her room. And there she stayed, for a full week, speaking to no one, and eating only what her mother brought up to her.