The Pounding Rain

The Pounding Rain
Chapter Seven - Epilogue

Did you know the rain would fall?
Did you know the rain would pound?
Did you know the wind would blow?
Did you know it'd tear you apart?

Two Months Later - Cemetery Near the Burrow

The last thing on Harry's mind before Voldemort had raised his wand had been, Anything. Do anything but kill me... I don't want to die. And though he'd mentally prepared himself for that very moment, nothing but fear commanded him, and he was sure he would have done anything to escape the inevitable.

Now, somehow he'd made it to stand here. The grass was bright green under the golden glow of the rising sun, and not a cloud hindered the reds, oranges and yellows smeared across the canvas sky. A warm wind swirled around him, as though it could blanket him in pleasure and comfort. But the wind flew away as swiftly as it had come, for it had other souls to soothe and other hearts to mend.

Voldemort's move had surprised him, to say the least. He'd expected the Dark Lord to try to kill him again. He'd expected to die. Expect the unexpected. That was not how things had turned out.

He should have been happy that, for the time being, Voldemort was gone. But how could he be happy when, to him, the bad things outweighed the good ones? The peace was only temporary, and it wasn't a complete peace anyway: like he had two years ago, the Dark Lord would find a way to return. However, the most devastating effect of Voldemort's disappearance was not the uncertainty of his whereabouts, but of the cost it took for their brief moment of rest.

Ginny Weasley was dead.

She was dead and all Harry could do was stand at her grave and decorate it with flowers. As adorned as it already was, he didn't see much of a point in adding any more, so he just knelt down on a clear patch beside it. He bowed his head solemnly.

He knew it was his fault she had died. Certainly he might have done something - anything - to save her life. How many lives did he have on his hands now? How bloodstained were his palms? So many people had died for him... too many. His parents, Cedric, and now Ginny Weasley were all dead because of his hesitation and cowardice.

I could have done something... Voldemort's wand would not have been able to act against my own... I should have protected her, not just stared there like an idiot...

"Ginny..." he whispered, glad for the solitude of early morning. "I... I know it doesn't make much of a difference, but... I'm sorry."

Idiot... what's the point?

Forgiveness. From God? From her parents? From the world? And perhaps he would not have to bear the guilt, the weight of her life on his shoulders.

"I could have done something. I should have. But I just... stood there... watched you - watched you d-die."

The sharp stinging behind his eyes warned him of the tears he was about to shed. He knew crying was childish of him, but maybe it would feel uplifting... freeing... if he could just get the pain out. Get rid of the shame... get rid of the love.

Love?

It was fate's worst revenge, not realizing how much you need something until you've finally lost it. But he deserved it, deserved the torturous epiphany that he had indeed fallen in love with Ginny Weasley, and now she was lost to him.

He'd only spent an agonizingly short amount of time with her; he found himself yearning for more. And yet, he met her years ago. He just had never really noticed her before. You jerk... he accused himself. Which is why you deserve what you get.

How could he have been so blind, to miss such a person before him? Ginny was so... so... well, there wasn't a word good enough to describe her. When he'd seen her in the Owlery a few days ago, convulsing, eyes squeezed shut in pain and sadness, it'd wrenched his heart in two. That had never happened before - he'd never felt so hurt over another person's pain. It'd almost been like Ginny's pain was his. That was weird.

The prickling behind his eyes grew worse, and he knew his cheeks were wet. It wasn't fair.

And then, it dawned on him.

This is what Cho went through. Only it must have been worse, because she'd actually had a chance to hold her loved one, to know what being together might actually mean and feel like. Harry had had none of that.

Ever since they'd started spending more time together, Harry realized that Ginny was the only other person who knew what it felt like to face Voldemort and live, to have to put up with the remorse of what she'd done... She was the only person who might have understood him, for Harry certainly didn't understand. Why did he have this uncanny tendency to wander to death so blindly and to wander away from it again just the same way? Why did he live when he should have died, and why did others die for him when they should have lived? Life wasn't just unfair; it was downright cruel.

"Harry?"

The voice was different than the one he had expected. Ron usually arrived at Ginny's grave by now. "Yes, Professor Dumbledore?"

Hogwarts' Headmaster approached him solemnly. Sad blue eyes took in Harry's countenance. He looked defeated. The life of the Boy-Who-Lived would always be terribly hard; he had to live up to so many virtues, and people expected him to be able to face them as perfectly and nobly as he always had. Harry Potter might never get his break. Harry needed to hope that he would get his peace. The only place he could find that hope would be in his mentor's faith. After all, Harry was his hope, the world's hope. They needed to give something back.

"I never knew Ginny particularly well," Dumbledore admitted, "but from what I've heard of her, she was a remarkable girl."

Harry stayed silent.

"She was a Weasley, after all," he tried again, attempting to lighten the mood. No jokes could soothe the scars of Harry, though; they ran too deep. "I'm sure she wouldn't want you to mourn her death or live with regret of what you could have done - there was nothing you could have done. Even if there had been, do you think she would be happy if you had died for her?"

"She didn't deserve death," Harry whispered. His voice was dry and cracked. "Her life was so... sad. At least, the last part of it. And that's partly my fault." He stood and started towards the road.

"Of course not, Harry," Dumbledore said gently. "You are not responsible for Ginny's death."

Harry shook his head. He did not respond, but his eyes were closed tightly, and his actions explained enough. He continued through the rows of tombstones.

Dumbledore could have followed him; even in his old age he was fairly swift. But it would be pointless. Watching Harry go, he reflected on why he had come here in the first place. Then he turned and focused on Ginny's grave.

"Ginny Weasley," he whispered. "Ginny Weasley."

Something about the grounds rang untrue; there was a fault in the air. He could feel it. Something false hid the mystery shrouding Ginny's death. Whether it was a good sign or bad, even Dumbledore could not tell.

})({

Ron gazed around his little sister's room, eyes searching for comfort in the bedspread, the still messy desk, the assortment of flowers sent to 'pay respects'... and he winced. It doesn't make sense, he thought, standing by her window and looking out at the backyard. How can she be gone? Hadn't it been just yesterday when he'd teased her about Harry? Wasn't it just a minute ago when they'd played together? Why had he never told her how much he loved her? She was his sister, he should have told her things like that. But then, she was his sister. He hated the way that sounded. Was.

He had not cried yet, and the fact tore him up. It was his sister, his Ginny. And she was dead.

But as he stood in her room, fingering her wand, which had been placed on her dresser amongst other items, he could only remember Ginny as she had been before. Happy, teasing, hyper, loving... It just hadn't sunk in yet that he was missing it. Yes, he was definitely in denial.

Yet he had not spoken since her funeral, because if he did, then he knew the tears would come out. It mixed things up worse. He wanted to cry for Ginny, but he would not provoke the tears to come. What's wrong with me?

Footsteps entered the room, but paused just past the door. "Ron?" Hermione asked tentatively.

He twirled Ginny's wand in his fingers. This belonged to her. It was her wand; it was part of her. Nevertheless, the wand was there, but she was not. "It isn't fair," he heard himself choke out.

Hermione rushed towards him. "Death is never fair, Ron." She put a hand on his shoulder.

"But it still... it still hurts." He turned to face her. Her own eyes were red and puffy. She had cried.

"I know," she whispered. "I know."

He swallowed. "But I... I can't... I haven't cried." He looked away; somehow afraid she'd be ashamed of him.

"Ron..." she gasped. But instead of pushing him away, she embraced him. "It takes time, sometimes... it... it will come, eventually." Normally so confident, Hermione's voice was weak and trembling. It wasn't right for this to happen.

He sighed, and buried his face in her hair. It was so soft, and it was everywhere. It was one of the things he loved about her. And he loved her.

Ginny will never get to love someone like this. It isn't fair! There's so much she'll never do, so much she'll never say... Death was like a book left unfinished. We'll never get to see the happy ending. She'll never get her happy ending, and after what she went through - after the Chamber of Secrets - doesn't she deserve one?

And then it hit him like a wave of ice. Ginny is dead. She is never coming back.

And finally, he cried.

})({

There are no words or euphemisms to turn a sad ending into a happily ever after. Nothing could change what had already come to pass. Sitting at his desk, sorting through letters and documents, Dumbledore knew that the worst had yet to fall. But then, there were many things Dumbledore knew.

"You might not be able to turn a storm cloud into a star," he said, looking at Fawkes, "but if you look hard enough, you can find rainbows reflected in the rain drops." A small smile tugged his lips. "Even in the darkest shadows, you can find hope. So hope is what we get them, Fawkes. Faith is what will save them."