Nothing But a Whisper

'Until the day when God shall deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is summed up in these two words,--'Wait & Hope.'

-Alexandre Dumas (The Count of Monte Cristo)

"Here are those papers you wanted, Harry. And Zabini will be here at eleven to go over the week's schedule with you."

Harry followed the weak, hollow voice and to the girl standing in front of his desk, setting a small stack of papers in the corner, keeping them away from the clutter where they would inevitably get lost. Her shoulder-length red curls framed her face, almost hiding her gaunt cheekbones and tired eyes. The vibrancy had long abandoned her brown eyes and the sunbathed freckles dotting her face had faded. He sighed and set down his pen, crossing his arms over his chest and waited for her to meet his gaze.

"Thank you, Ginny. I don't know what I'd do without you."

The corners of her lips turned upwards ever so slightly. "That's why you gave me the job, Harry."

He chuckled. "You mean begged you to do it." He ran a hand through his disheveled hair. The Boy-Who-Lived, the savior of the wizarding world, was tired. He didn't care for politics and if it wasn't for his advisor, Blaise Zabini, he would have already run the wizarding community into the ground. But it was an encouraging word from Ginny that kept him going every day and kept him from tumbling into the chasm of despair, on whose edge he had teetered for so long now. Ever since the war had ended nearly two years ago, he had struggled to pick up the pieces of his life, as had everyone else. The loss of not only Dumbledore, but Lupin and his best friends had been a very heavy weight to bear.

He reached out and grasped Ginny's hand, giving it a gentle squeeze. He knew he was not the only one suffering. Ginny had lost everything; not only the Burrow, but all of her family as well. Only Charlie remained, hiding himself away in Romania, trying to escape the pain that encircled the wizarding world.

"Is there anything else you need, Har--Minister?" She bowed her head to avoid his gaze, and slowly wiggled her hand from his grasp. The war had put an end to whatever sort of relationship had been building between Harry and Ginny before he had left Hogwarts. They had always remained close, a support system in the darkest hours, and--Harry admitted--they had sought each other out on occasion when the need to have something solid arose. There had been many difficult times over the four years of the war where they had found comfort and security in each other's arms, in each other's beds, but as the war ended, so did their relationship. Ginny needed a brother now, a boss, and most importantly, someone to look out for her.

"No, that will be all for now, Miss Weasley," he replied, mocking her formality. Ginny merely nodded and headed for the door. "Gin," he called. She turned around, waiting for instruction.

"Yes? Did you forget something?"

Harry stood and made his way over to her, placing his hand on the side of her head. "Just the last time I saw you smile. Are you doing okay, Ginny?"

She forced a small smile onto her face and nodded. "I'm fine, Harry." He raised his eyebrows. She sighed and resigned, "well, just as fine as everyone else."

Harry reached up and placed his lips against her temple before he released her and retreated back to his desk. Ginny quickly fled the room, closing the door behind her. Glancing up at the click of the door, Harry sent a silent prayer heavenwards, hoping, like he did every day, that someone somewhere would send them a miracle.

∞∞∞

More than anything, Ginny hated appearing weak. She settled into her desk and shoved her hand into the top drawer, retrieving her mirror. She pulled it up before her and stared into the glass pane. God, Gin, you look like death warmed over.

Reaching up, she tried to pat down some curls that had gone astray and tucked her hair behind her ears. She grabbed her foundation from her purse and tried to cover up the bags under her eyes. When she was done she noted unhappily that there wasn't much improvement. She still looked like a damsel in distress, and of course Harry would see it as his job to save her.

Ginny tucked the mirror back in the drawer and glanced out across the hall. Sunlight was filtering in through the tall windows onto the marble floor. However, even the blue skies outside did little to lift her mood. She had dreamed about them last night. She had been back at the Burrow, surrounded by her family, laughing and arguing. And then a great shadow had engulfed the house and she had watched them burn one at a time until she was the only one left standing, screaming in the black smoke, unable to produce a sound. She had awoken in a sweat and had not been able to fall back asleep.

She rifled through a pile on her desk and pulled out a letter, its edges furling, rereading it for the twentieth time this week.

Dearest Ginny,

I hope that this letter finds you well. I'm sorry I have not written much, but work keeps me busy. Or perhaps it is simply that I keep myself busy with work. The days pass in a fog and it is so hard to pull myself from the monotony. At least there, I can escape. At least there, I do not have to think. Do you think about them often? I do all the time. I think about the Burrow at Christmas, Mum cooking in the kitchen, Dad experimenting with some muggle contraction, and Fred and George testing out their newest product on poor Bill or Ron. I can see you sitting by the fire, reading a book. Sometimes I even see Harry there playing chess with Ron and Hermione scolding them both. My memories are filled with their faces. So you can understand why I do not like to think, why I prefer just to lose myself in my work.

But I get the feeling that I am not alone, my dearest sister. Harry has written to me. He is concerned for you. I cannot be one to talk, nor can he for that matter, for we all died a little during the war. In fact, I do not think you are so different from anyone else. But Ginny, I cannot help but remember how you used to smile and laugh. How you were so full of fire and spirit. You are my baby sister, and even if the whole world suffers, I don't want you to be sad. So please Ginny, try to find the fight in you.

I am coming to stay with you for Christmas and I hope by then, there will be some light back in your eyes. Try your best, love, to find some hope and happiness in this dark time. I know it is not easy, but you are so young and you were once so optimistic and full of life. If you do this, I promise you that I too will make an effort to move on; to stop living with the memory of those who are gone and to start living with their love. Remember how they loved us Ginny and how they would not want us to be unhappy. Live for them, Gin, and live for yourself.

Love your brother,

Charlie

Ginny put the letter back in its place, propped her head up on her hands, and watched the people in the hallway through the large, glass door. "Hope was something I once lived on. It was what killed everything. It is the reason I am still here and they are not. I do not care much for hope anymore, Charlie."