Missing

Please, please forgive me,
But I won't be home again.
Maybe someday you'll have woke up,
And, barely conscious, you'll say to no one:
"isn't something missing? "

She had expected to walk out of the door in an angry storm, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to do it. She was too sad. The man she had fallen in love with was gone. The real Harry had died along with Ron and Hermione two years ago. He barely noticed she was there anymore; if he spoke to her it was a miracle. And frankly, she was tired of it. She was tired of suffering through every day trying her damnedest to get him to know that she was still there, alive, even though they were not. But no, he lived on in the past, mourning his dead friends, forgetting that she was still alive. Forgetting that she still loved him.

You won't cry for my absence, I know -
You forgot me long ago.
Am I that unimportant...?
Am I so insignificant...?
Isn't something missing?
Isn't someone missing me?

And she did love him. Yes, even after everything she still loved him. But it was over. She would be surprised if he even realized she was gone. For the last two years, she had put herself through hell every day, watching the man she had loved drown in his memories. He wasn't taking her with him; not this time. She didn't know if he deserved this or not, but this time she was walking. She wasn't going to let him make her feel this way, like she didn't exist - or didn't deserve to. As she walked down the front walkway of the house they had shared for two years, since the war ended and Voldemort was finally defeated, she hardly noticed the tears coursing silently down her face. When had she stopped mattering to him?

Even though I'd be sacrificed,
You won't try for me, not now.
Though I'd die to know you love me,
I'm all alone.
Isn't someone missing me?

There was a time when she would have sold her soul for a single touch or kiss from him. There was a time when he would take her in his arms if she was the least bit upset; a time when they would have given anything for the world to leave them alone and let them love each other in peace. Where had it gone? The loyalty was still there: she would never love another, and she'd still die for him at any time, but something had died. Something in him had died, and therefore he'd killed a part of her. Isn't that what she had said to him last night when she tried to salvage things for the last time? Yes, it was.

"I can't," he had said.

"You just killed me," she'd replied.

Please, please forgive me,
But I won't be home again.
I know what you do to yourself,
Shudder deep and cry out:
"isn't something missing?
Isn't someone missing me? "

Her composure lasted respectfully until she got to the bridge. Then, she broke down in tears, her small body shaking with sobs. It was really the end. All the pain, all the heartbreak, everything they'd been through - it ended here. On the same bridge where he had proposed - all alone in the dead of night. They might have won the war, but she had lost everything. She thought of Harry, who often woke up screaming in the middle of the night - screaming or crying. Every night he relived the worst moments of the war, and every night, she had to endure it with him. He had lost his two best friends; she had lost a brother and a girl she thought of as her sister. And now she had lost her husband, too. She hated this world. It was this world that had forced them to abandon their dreams and their innocence; that had forced them to grow up and had turned them into creatures of the darkness.

Even though I'd be sacrificed,
You won't try for me, not now.
Though I'd die to know you love me,
I'm all alone.
Isn't someone missing me?

She laughed at that. To think, they had spent their entire lives fighting for the light. The triumph of good over evil. Yeah, right. Too late they had found out that it was all evil. Voldemort and his Death Eaters may have perished, but in the end, so had they. No one had really won. After these years of looking into the broken, tortured faces of the survivors and seeing the shells of human beings that had once been her friends, she refused to say that they had won the war. She had come to decide that, in war, there were no winners. There were only the wounded and the dead. Now, looking over the moonlit river, she tried her best to remember before the war. It seemed like a thousand years ago. Was it possible that she had actually ever been that happy?

And if I bleed, I'll bleed,
Knowing you don't care.
And if I sleep just to dream of you
And wake without you there,
Isn't something missing?
Isn't something...

She had been made to endure so much over these last few years, and he had just faded away, knowing she cried alone in the dark every night, but too preoccupied with his own problems to do anything about it. There had been a day when he would have found her and held her until she stopped crying. Not anymore. Now he just sat in the den with his bottle of firewhiskey, looking through the albums that held the pictures from when they were still at school.

Even though I'd be sacrificed,
You won't try for me, not now.
Though I'd die to know you love me,
I'm all alone.
Isn't someone missing me?

And their future? There was none. They lived in the past. In a final breathless sob she whispered, "Goodbye, baby." Then Ginny Weasley leapt to her death.