On Fire

where once was light, now darkness falls

where once was love, love is no more

don't say goodbye

don't say I didn't try

- Howard Shore,

feat. Emiliana Torrini

Aftermath, Pt. 1:

Death

She was weightless and trapped in a thick and inky darkness. She peered into the abyss before her, hoping to discover some clue as to where she was. When she realized that her search was futile, she tried to lift her hand before her and feel her way around. With a sinking feeling, she discovered that she could not move her arm; in fact, she didn't feel any parts of her body at all. On the heels of this discovery was extreme shock and terror. She could feel a scream tearing its way though her flesh.

She opened her mouth to release it; suddenly, the complete blackness had yellowish and red tinges around the edges. In slow succession, she felt her toes, hands, and nose; gradually, she sensed the blood coursing steadily through her veins, and the steady, calming beat of her heart. As she tried to process the changes overwhelming her, she heard a tenor voice to her left. She concentrated, and the words finally filtered through her muddled brain.

"So? Tell me what happened!" a man demanded. Ginny could see her memories rushing out into the forefront of her mind, as though in answer to his question.

The flash of angry red, against the pale blonde and dark brown startled her.

- a sword? You-Know-Who could be defeated by a bloody sword?" the same man asked incredulously.

She pushed past a familiar blond man, barely paying any attention to her surroundings. She eventually found a relatively clear spot in the crowded hallway.

"Twasn't easy, you know," a gruff, older male voice replied. Something in his intonations struck Ginny as familiar, but she couldn't stop her thoughts long enough to recognize him.

She saw the red-head's wand lift to point at the brown-haired boy's chest, and heard his strange words.

"I saw the lad defeat him with me own two eyes, and he had a rough time at it," the older voice continued.

In horrified silence, she saw the green flash of light, and the boy crumpled to the ground...

"But it was a sword, Moody!" the tenor male scoffed. "Why didn't anyone think to use it before?"

The mention of the other person's name was enough to snap Ginny out of her dream-like trance and focus on the reality around her. As she slowly gathered her wits, she heard Moody answer testily, "Need I remind you that Potter is the only one who has ever survived the Killing Curse? Anyone else would have been killed before they could say, 'Constant Vigilance'!"

The other man snorted and said dryly, "Well, of course they would have! That's a right mouthful to say, I'll have you know."

"Enough," Moody replied in a fair imitation of Snape at his moodiest. "We're disturbing the patients." She heard some shuffling of feet, and Moody's voice was farther away when he continued, "It's a pity about that lass over there. I hear that one of her brothers killed her beau, while the other..."

Those words forced Ginny to pry her eyes open. Moody had been talking about her and what happened to Ron and Blaise... So, that meant that Harry had actually killed Voldemort. She felt a momentary surge of relief and joy before she remembered why she had been so sad earlier. Although she was alive and well, Blaise was dead.

Ginny stared at the ceiling above her, ignoring everything that was going on around her and focusing on stopping the tears that had welled up in her eyes. However, she was too exhausted to exert any actual control over her emotions. As the first tear drop trickled down her cheek, it released more memories of the boy she had considered her best friend for a brief while.

Blaise's worried frown and tight grip forced her to stop in the train corridor... "I think you're one of the bravest people I've ever met..." he told her. "I mean it!" He was looking at her hopefully, and she could feel the last vestiges of her anger seep from her....

She sat on the grass beneath a tree at the edge of the lake with Draco and Blaise, both a few feet away from her, throwing playful insults at each other. Blaise turned to her and laughed, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief and his dark hair glinting in the sunlight...

He was grabbing her shoulders, but she barely registered the pain. Instead, her world was focused on those same blue eyes, as they stared down at her. She saw the various emotions flickering behind them, but she was clueless as to what was causing them... Finally, he began whispering, "Ginevra... I'm going to be doing things that you won't like and won't expect from me... Just remember, no matter what I do or say... love you, Ginevra." His eyes pleaded with her, begging her to understand....

Her eyes widened in surprise when she realized the significance of that last memory, her mind whirlign with its implications. Blaise had been warning her about what he was about to do! At the time, she had merely thought he would do something stupid like getting himself killed. Not only had he done that, but he had betrayed her friendship and trust as well.

Ginny let out a whoosh of air, unaware that she had even been holding her breath. She struggled to steady her pounding heart and regulate her breathing. In an effort to calm down, Ginny slowly propped herself up on one elbow and took a quick survey of the room. As her body relaxed, she was surprised to see that all of the beds were filled. Most of the patients were students, as their grey uniforms betrayed. Adults reclined peacefully on the other beds, staring at the ceiling in deep thought or conversing in low murmurs with other adults, seated in wooden chairs next to their beds. Just as Ginny was craning her neck to see if any one from her family was nearby, Madame Pomfrey bustled to her side, clucking her tongue like a mother hen. "Miss Weasley, it's good to see you awake," she said briskly. Reaching to the bedside table, Pomfrey picked up a glass containing an olive-green potion, and continued sternly, "Now then, drink up."

Ginny's recent realization hit her again with the force of the Whomping Willow, causing her to croak out, "Blaise-"

"Now, now, dear," Pomfrey replied in a lower voice. "You'll need some sleep before you're up and about again. Come now," she wheedled as she tipped up Ginny's chin and began pouring the potion down her throat. Once Ginny had finished it, Pomfrey helped her settle down again and tucked the sheets around her. Ginny heard a faint "Sleep well, dear," and then succumbed to the potion-induced dreamless sleep awaiting her.

When she awoke again, Ginny had no trouble adjusting her eyes to the faint candlelight around her. Night had evidently fallen on Hogwarts, and the Hospital Wing was now deserted. Ginny looked about her, puzzled by the silence. There was only one other person occupying a bed that night. Where had everyone else gone? Had her family been by to see her? Why was she left here without anyone waiting by her bedside? She recalled the last time she had seen the pristine white of the Hospital Wing; then, both Blaise and Draco had been waiting by her side. Draco's concern and worry had been so flattering, and Blaise's quiet confidence brought a smile to her face even now. But Blaise was dead and Draco...

Ginny sat there, finally allowing herself to think of Draco. Why had he tried to kill her during the battle? She had loved him for the past months; in fact, there were times where she was almost sure that he had returned her feelings. What had changed in the span of a few days that had caused him to hate her so much? Ginny could feel her heart wrenching in pain as she dropped her head into her hands and began to cry. Feelings of rejection and despair washed over her as she sobbed; she knew that Draco would face a trial of some sort for her attempted murder. She would have to testify that he had done so, and then he would be sent straight to Azkaban.

The tears fell harder as she realized that she had lost her best friend and her first real love forever.

With a stab of loneliness and hurt, Ginny wondered where her family was right when she needed them. She searched her bedside table for a sign that someone had been by to visit her; yet, all she found was a goblet of potion.

After a few minutes, Ginny's tears quieted into fierce indignation. No one cared about her, that much was clear; but, she wanted to know why. What in Merlin's name was so damn important that no one had the chance to see her? Ginny propelled herself out of her bed, determined to find answers to her questions. She was startled to find her shoes by the side of the bed; looking down at herself, she grinned ruefully when she realized that she was still clad in her old shirt and slip. Slipping her feet into her shoes, she slowly padded her way towards the occupied bed. As she neared the patient, she spied familiar brown hair and work-worn hands. When she reached his side, she realized with a shock that she was staring at her former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Remus Lupin.

He was sleeping peacefully, but his face indicated that he was anything but. The wrinkles and worry lines in his features seemed harsher in the moonlight. She saw the smudges under his eyes and the shallow, wheezy breaths that he struggled to take. Ginny was startled when she saw sweat on his brow and reached out her hand to brush a few strands of hair from his face. Suddenly, clouds shifted in the sky outside, allowing the full moon to completely illuminate the room. Ginny immediately shrank away from Lupin in fright, remembering that he was a werewolf. To her relief, he didn't change into a monster before her eyes. He merely coughed weakly and twitched uncomfortably, before turning over on his side and settling down once again.

Ginny was confused by his reaction; to ensure her sanity, she glanced at the window to confirm the presence of the full moon. Why hadn't he changed tonight? Had he been cured of it? Ginny shook her head inwardly, knowing that no one had ever been able to cure lycanthropy. While she continued to mull over this, her eyes dropped back down to Lupin. His back was facing her, and she saw an enormous diagonal cut stretching from his left shoulder to the right side of his waist. She watched in horrified fascination as a drop of blood trickled from the lower edge of the angry wound and quietly sank into the white bedding beneath him. Following it was another drop of blood; this time, the blood glinted white in the moonlight before it joined its predecessor.

Slowly creeping back to the bed, Ginny crouched down and peered at the two drops of blood, trying her best to keep her nose from bumping into Lupin. The two drops of blood on the bed were mixing before her very eyes; she held her breath in anticipation as their color changed from a murky pink to a completely grayish white, almost the same color as the bed itself. A distant memory from third year told Ginny that this grayish spot was probably silver. She moved away from the bed and stood back up, assessing the situation.

Clearly, Remus Lupin, a werewolf, had been attacked with silver. Now, he lay on the bed before her, wasting away. In fact, he was so far gone that he didn't have the energy to become a werewolf tonigh. Instead of being horrified by his imminent death, Ginny merely felt pity and remorse. In her mind, and in the minds of many of her fellow schoolmates, Lupin was an easy-going professor, never as cold as Snape or as imperious as McGonagall. Despite his affliction, he had been an admirable teacher, a wonderful listener, and a good man.

As Ginny contemplated the seriousness of Lupin's situation, she wondered just who had done this to him. Had he been taken by surprise, she wondered bitterly, or had someone betrayed his confidence? Ginny sighed and shook her head, knowing that it was pointless to keep reminding herself of Blaise and Draco. Yet, deep within her heart, she knew that she would never recover from the way that they had used her. Never again would she allow someone to have the opportunity to treat her like a puppet.

She straightened her back and squared her shoulders in defiance, suddenly remembering her purpose in getting out of bed; she had many questions, and she demanded answers. As Ginny stomped away from Lupin's bedside, she wondered why she had been left here with a known werewolf. What if he had been strong enough to change tonight? She would have been dead in her sleep, and no one else would have been the wiser. Ginny's blood began to boil with fury.

She reached the doorway to Madame Pomfrey's private quarters, only to find it shut with light snores from the other side. The realization that she was the only conscious person in the huge hospital wing sobered her anger and sent goose bumps along her arm. Suddenly feeling very foolish, Ginny turned swiftly; she was about to make a mad dash for her bed when she saw something odd before her.

Right beside the main doorway that led out of the infirmary was another door. Ginny could have sworn that she had never seen it before; she slowly inched her way towards it, and was startled to find that the temperature had dropped noticeably. Warily, she continued to tiptoe her way closer and noticed that a strange blue glow was emanating from the cracks between the doorframe and the actual door. Her insistent curiosity forced her to lightly touch the doorknob and twist it.

She hadn't expected it to open so readily to her touch, so she found herself sprawling forward into the room as the door opened before her. When she finally gained her bearings, she looked up and was shocked numb by the extreme cold and what she saw.

The walls were covered in a dull blue glow and the room itself was completely devoid of furniture. Along the floor, in neat rows, lay sheet-covered bodies. Each body was shrouded in the same clinically precise way; the entire body was covered in white except for the left foot. Peering at the body closest to the door, Ginny noticed that the big toe had a tag attached to it.

Ginny stared out at the sea of white before her, wrapping her arms around her to ward off the chill and horror. The room was so cold that she could see her breath puffing out before her face. She mentally counted a total of twenty in that room. Only twenty people had died in the second most significant battle of the century, yet that small number included someone very dear to her. Was Blaise somewhere in this room?

Steeling herself against nausea, Ginny stepped closer to the nearest body and looked down at the tag attached to its foot. It read:

Name: Fletcher, Mundungus

Age: 34

Wand: birch w/ 1 unicorn hair,

7 inches, bendy

Affiliation: MoM, Hogwarts, Other

Ginny frowned at the name, recalling a conversation at 12 Grimmauld Place about stolen cauldrons. She smiled a little when she remembered how hard Fred and George had been laughing. Shaking her head clear, she sobered again and lowered her eyes respectfully. He had been an Order member, even if he was an unsavory character, so he deserved some sort of mourning.

After a moment, Ginny anxiously looked around at the bodies around her, still wondering if Blaise was there somewhere. She methodically moved along the first row towards the other end of the room, reading the names as she went.

Dolohov, Antonin. His tag also had "Other" indicated in the affiliation category. Ginny smirked at the irony of the situation. Even with Voldemort finally dead and gone, whoever had created these tags still refused to admit that there were Death Eaters involved in that battle. She continued to walk on with this knowledge.

Doge, Elphias - Other.

Corner, Michael - Hogwarts.

Ginny stopped in surprise when she saw her ex-boyfriend's name. The summer and her past year had been so hectic that she had forgotten about him since they had separated. She was a little ashamed of her ignorance, but she had never seriously loved him... like she loves - no, loved - Draco; after all, it wasn't possible for Ginny to love a boy after he tried to kill her. After another moment of silence, she sidestepped Michael's body and looked at the next row.

Flitwick, Filius - Hogwarts.

Goyle, Gregory, Jr - Hogwarts.

Goyle, Gregory, Sr - Other.

Lestrange, Bellatrix - Other.

Delighted by her discovery that the rows were alphabetical from left to right, she hurried on to the next rows.

Lestrange, Rabastan - Other.

Longbottom, Neville - Hogwarts.

Lovegood, Luna - Hogwarts.

Ginny stumbled in shock when she saw their names. Two of the five that had accompanied Harry to the Department of Mysteries last year were dead. She had never given them a second thought during the past few months, but she suddenly remembered Neville's clumsiness and Luna's flighty ways with affection. Both students, so odd in their own ways, were so similar when their courage and acumen were really needed. With sudden nostalgia, Ginny longed to see Luna walking about with her wand behind her ear, face buried in an upside-down Quibbler. She would have also given anything at that moment to see Neville chasing after his toad Trevor, knocking things over as he ran.

After mentally bidding them goodbye, she took an unsteady breath and continued her search. Now, she was absolutely determined to find Blaise.

Malfoy, Lucius - MoM.

Parkinson, Pansy - Hogwarts.

Pettigrew, Peter - Other.

Sprout, Pomona - Hogwarts.

Vance, Emmeline - MoM.

Weas-

Ginny felt as though she had been struck with the Jelly-Legs Jinx. She dropped to her knees unceremoniously, not heeding the sharp sting and biting cold that seeped throughout her in response. Instead, her attention was riveted to the tag on the toe before her:

Name: Weasley, Fred

Age: 18

Wand: Alder, dragon heartstring

10 1/8 inches, bendy

Affiliation: MoM, Hogwarts, Other