Gone

Harry ran into the Great Hall as fast as he could. The sweat was dripping down his neck and face, leaving dark patches on his clothes. But Harry was beyond caring, there was only one thing on his mind. He had to find her.

Harry skidded to a halt, horrified at the scene he saw before him. A small, redheaded figure was floating about six feet in the air and seemed to be ... glowing. Her body was surrounded by a blue aura. Although she was no longer making any sound, Harry could tell by the way her body was writhing in mid air that she was in unbearable pain. Harry watched, helpless, as the blue glow faded away and Ginny's body fell to the ground. A loud crack could be heard as her body hit the hard stone floor, and once again, Harry was running.

Harry dropped to his knees when he reached Ginny's side. He took her by the shoulders and shook her gently.

'C'mon, love, wake up,' Harry muttered softly. But when she didn't move, Harry began shaking her harder, his fingernails digging into her shoulders until he was drawing blood. 'C'mon Ginny, you need to get up, we've got to get out of here, GET UP DAMMIT!' Harry's voice cracked in despair, but it was no use, she was gone. Dead. For the first time since he had reached her Harry looked into her face.

Her eyes were wide open in surprise, or was it terror? Her mouth was contorted with pain, as though she was still silently screaming. Her skin was paler than snow, making her hair seem even more fiery than usual. Harry gently brushed a few stray red hairs out of her eyes before turning to look up at her murderer - the man whose face had haunted him since he had been transported to that grave yard in fourth year.

His tall, skeletal frame was covered with huge bulking robes, making him seem twice as large as he actually was. His mouth was twisted in a truly evil grin - the grin of a mad man. But it was his eyes that enraged Harry. They were catlike, ruby red and held a manic gleam. Harry couldn't tear his own eyes away from them. They seemed to be goading him, tormenting him. Harry felt rage like he had never felt before. Everyone he had ever lost because of Him seemed to appear inside his head. His mum and dad, Cedric, Sirius, and now Ginny. Without realising what he was doing, Harry reached inside his robes, pulling out his wand. He saw Voldemort's eyes narrow slightly, his grin widen as Harry raised his wand...

Harry sat bolt upright in bed; sweat dripping down his face - another restless night. His dreams had become more frequent since the funeral -

'No, don't think about that,' Harry berated himself, pushing the thought aside. He grabbed his glasses from the table next to his bed and placed them on his face. Everything came into better focus and Harry realised that his whole bed was covered in sweat... again. Sighing, Harry climbed out of the bed, grabbed his wand from his bedside table and pointed it at the bed muttering 'scourgify' effortlessly. This had become a routine of late.

Harry stumbled into the shower, turning the water on cold in an effort to wake up. As the water ran over him, Harry's thought drifted back to his dream, despite his efforts to avoid it.

The dream had been the same for weeks now. Before the funeral, it had always been punctuated with other dreams - all from the war, but they had always been different. But it had now been three weeks since the funeral and he had dreamed of nothing else. But it always seemed so real, exactly like the night it had happened - he supposed that's why he woke up in a swimming pool every morning.

Harry was out of the shower, dressed and sat at the kitchen table in around fifteen minutes. He didn't feel like making breakfast, what was the point? Unfortunately, his stomach didn't seem to agree and was growling in protest of not being supplied with any food in about four days. Therefore, Harry was glad for a distraction when an owl flew threw the open window, deposited a letter and left before Harry had the chance to look up.

Dear Harry,

I know you're probably not feeling like talking to anyone right now, but I think it would help you. So will you please meet me at Ginny's grave at 11 o'clock? I know it seems like a weird place to meet, but you'll understand when you get there. So PLEASE meet me.

Love Hermione

P.S. If you don't turn up, I'll be forced to come and get you and it will NOT be pretty. See you soon!

Harry smiled weakly at Hermione's feeble attempt at a joke. She never was the funny one, Harry thought ruefully. She was right though - he didn't want to meet her, or anyone else for that matter. He knew exactly what Hermione would say - 'Harry, you need to stop blaming yourself, it wasn't your fault.' But it was his fault; he hadn't got there soon enough.

However, he also knew there was truth in Hermione's last comment. If he refused to show, she would simply charge into his home and nag him until he relented.

So, with a long, tired sigh, Harry pushed his chair back and stood up wearily. The last place he wanted to be right now was at her place, he just didn't think he could stand to be there right now. But knowing Hermione as well as he did, he decided it would probably be best to let her say whatever it was she had in mind and then get back home as quickly as possible.

Harry grabbed his cloak from its hook in the hallway and roughly pulled it on before apparating out of the house - something he hadn't done for almost three weeks.