On Fire

if you returned to me

I would be happy once again

but today you are gone

and there is no turning back

- Josh Groban,

roughly translated from Spanish

Aftermath, Pt. 2:

Mourning

Ginny clapped her hand over her mouth, stifling the small scream that escaped from her lips. She reread the tag over and over again, thinking that her mind was playing tricks on her. Yet, no matter how long she stared at the words, they refused to change. Her brother, Fred Weasley, was dead.

Her legs had gone numb from the cold, but the only feelings her mind registered were muddled mixtures of anger and grief. She couldn't believe the letters and numbers from the tag, which were forcing their way into her consciousness. She could have sworn that she had seen Fred laughing and pulling pranks just a second before. Yet here he lay, like a flame that had been snuffed out and could never be lit again.

After a few moments of stunned blankness, she identified her first conscious thought: why, of all of her brothers, did Fred have to die? She wouldn't have minded seeing Percy's foot and nametag before her; after all, he was the one who defected from the Weasleys and betrayed them all by allying himself with Fudge and the Ministry. The only betrayal that Fred had ever committed centered on (mostly) harmless pranks. Fred had a strong sense of loyalty and family, and never even considered turning his back on his parents and siblings.

Yet, the Fates had decided to twist the knife that was already firmly embedded in her side. Her fun-loving, mischievous, loud, and quite obnoxious brother, one half of the duo that was Gred and Feorge, had been taken from her. Tears poured down Ginny's face as memories of Fred flashed before her eyes. She remembered watching Ron cry when Fred had turned his pillow into a spider, laughing at his outrageous pranks, storming at him indignantly when those pranks turned on her, and laughing through her tears when he promised to send her a toilet seat from Hogwarts. It was last year that he and George had escaped from that toad Umbridge's power at Hogwarts, yet she could recall the stink from their swamp as clearly as if she had smelled it yesterday.

As each memory passed through her mind, she realized that she had missed countless opportunities to tell him that she loved him. All of those times that she had interacted with him, they had known subconsciously that they loved each other; after all, she and Fred were siblings, which meant that they shared blood and a certain intuition about each other's feelings. Yet, after Percy had left them all, the entire family had had to work on strengthening that unspoken bond between all of them. Even then, the importance of expressing her feelings had never crossed her mind. Granted, her brothers would have been bloody uncomfortable to hear "I love you," or "I care about you," but they would have treasured the memory, even as she would have.

Ginny knew that there was only so much that one could say in actions; sometimes, the words themselves needed to be expressed. She knew that she had forever missed that opportunity to tell Fred. She hung her head guiltily when she remembered that the last time she had seen him, she had been chasing him around the Burrow, threatening to hex him if he didn't return her hairbrush. Had he remembered that before he died? Did he leave his life, thinking that she hadn't loved him? She could only hope that her actions had been loving enough, and hadn't fallen woefully short of the truth.

Her thoughts immediately turned to her family members. She hadn't told any of them, even her mum, that she loved them. Was it too late for them as well? After a quick glance around, Ginny sighed with relief when she saw that no other Weasleys were on the floor. Thinking of her family brought up an important fact; Fred had always been inseparable from his best friend and twin, George. Ginny blanched when she thought of how distraught George must be without his brother. Had anyone told him about Fred's death? She certainly hoped that he had not been left to suffer unknowingly, much like she had.

Ginny frowned a bit as she remembered that she had been left alone. Was anyone even thinking about her at that moment? Did anyone care that she had opened this door and discovered the cruel death toll on her own? Or was her family attempting to shield her, once again? Ginny once again fervently hoped that no one was shielding George from news of Fred's death. She could still recall the concern in his eyes during the battle when he had asked her about Fred's whereabouts...

Her frown turned thoughtful as her eyes glazed over when she realized that Fred's death had been indirectly foreshadowed by that incident, just as Blaise's death had been predicted by his own words. Ginny wanted to smack herself for not noticing that importance sooner. Twice, events had indicated the future, yet she had naively refrained from reading between the lines. For a moment, Ginny wondered if this realization would boost her grades in Divination. She quickly pushed that inane thought out of her head and refocused on the body of her deceased brother.

The sight of the tag instantly sobered her, and her musings returned to Fred. Since she had never had the chance to tell him how much she loved him, she decided to finally pay her respects to him. She opened her mouth, trying to articulate how she felt... but found that she couldn't. She was such a jumble of fear, anger, sorrow, and guilt that she wasn't quite sure where to begin. Nor did she know how to continue from that beginning, and where to end. After much struggling for the right words, Ginny simply said, "I love you, Fred. I miss you... so much," she ended with a sob. She bowed her head in grief, longing for her brother once again. Unable to continue, she slowly stood up before she became a blubbering mess, and mentally bid him a final farewell.

She stared at his sheet-covered body for a moment, steeling herself for the rest of this last row of bodies. She still had to find Blaise, for she hadn't told him how she felt about him, either. Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she sidestepped to the next body. Her mouth fell open in shock when she recognized the name on the body's nametag. She quickly moved to the last two bodies, her eyes widening when she read those tags, as well. Blinking in surprise, she crouched before the body in the middle, staring off into space as she comprehended what she had just read:

Name: Zabini, Anthony

Age: 49

Wand: Oak w/ dragon heartstring, 11 ¾ inches, rigid

Affiliation: MoM, Hogwarts, Other

Name: Zabini, Blaise

Age: 16

Wand: Oak w/ dragon heartstring, 11 inches, pliable

Affiliation: MoM, Hogwarts, Other

Name: Zabini, Victoria

Age: 44

Wand: Birch w/ unicorn tail hair, 10 ¼ inches, swishy

Affiliation: MoM, Hogwarts, Other

Ginny knew that since the other two shared Blaise's last name, they were both related to him. But what was the nature of that relation? She idly tapped a finger against her cheek, searching her mind for vague names mentioned in the society pages of the Daily Prophet and Witch Weekly. Finally, a completely different memory surfaced in her mind.

It had been another October evening; after dinner, she, Blaise, and Draco had adjourned to their customary classroom discussions. Blaise was currently amusing himself by playing with her hair, while she and Draco intently discussed their childhoods.

"Honestly, Ginevra," Draco drawled, "I don't know how you survived all these years with six brothers. I'd never give up being an only child for anything in the world."

Ginny earnestly replied, "Well, it wasn't that awful. I got quite accustomed being the baby of the family... until now."

Behind her, Blaise's hand had ceased touching her hair. "I would have given anything to have lived in your family," he stated quietly, his breath stirring a few of her hairs. Both Draco and Ginny were shocked into silence by this comment.

"Blaise," Draco scoffed from the other side of the room, "you can't possibly-"

"I mean it," he coldly cut him off. Surprised at his tone, Ginny twisted around in her seat and looked at him questioning. He met her gaze boldly and unrepentantly, his eyes almost black in the shadows. "You don't know what it's like to live in my family," he explained. His eyes lightened to their familiar blue as he stared off into space and continued, "I'm the last of the Zabinis, not including my mother and father, of course. All my life, I've been expected to live and act in ways that would honor my ancestors. Never mind the current society that we live in, which encourages me to define my own wants and needs. I was only allowed to be a Zabini..."

Her expression changed into one of sympathy and understanding as she turned her eyes back to the bodies before her. The names on the tags that lay on either side of Blaise's body must belong to his parents. So, despite their efforts to keep the Zabini name blemish-free and living, their family line had finally ended.

Ginny sat back on her haunches, and wondered what it would be like to be the only one left of her family. Could she survive each day, knowing that she would never see her brothers' smirks, her father's avid curiosity, and her mother's face contorted in motherly concern? What would it have been like for Blaise to know that he were the last of his line? Generations after him would look at his deeds and judge him for them, never caring about the person he was or the circumstances that he lived in. The memory of his ancestors would forever be dishonored if he did something stupid; however, they would be remembered fondly if he managed to make a success of himself. In the mean time, there he was, torn between the past and future, never getting the chance to enjoy the present... and his own life.

Astonished by the terrible life Blaise must have led, Ginny turned her eyes back to his shrouded body with newfound respect. She would have run away instead of remaining and making do with her lot in life. She couldn't imagine the amount of strength and confidence it would have required living in those circumstances. Yet... that very same life required him to become a Death Eater, and he hadn't been strong enough to refute that call. Ginny had once thought him a coward for becoming one, but here she was, admiring him for his strength and resolution in doing it!

Her brows furrowed in confusion, for she was not at all sure of how she was supposed to feel about Blaise. She hated him for betraying her friendship and trust, yet admired him for his strength and courage. On the heels of that admiration were remnants of her love for him. Overwhelmed by her emotions, Ginny let loose her frustration in the only way imaginable; she buried her face in her hands and cried. She cried for every moment she had loved him, and every second that she had hated him. As the tears fell, she felt like she had barely known him. If only she could have taken a closer look at him and understood him better, instead of jumping at the chance to hurt him. If only she had found a way to use that knowledge to help him escape his fate as a Death Eater. If only...

She sniffed a little as her tears dried in streaks down her cheeks. Somehow, she doubted that she would have ever been able to change his mind. Even after a few months as his friend, Ginny knew that Blaise was stubborn to the point of arrogance. Once he decided on a course of action, he never wavered from it because he never thought his choice was wrong. No matter what Ginny would have tried, she knew that she would have had no luck in convincing him of the error of his ways.

Yet, knowing all of that about him, she had chosen to ignore the fact that he was a Slytherin and eventual Death Eater. She had conveniently overlooked his name, his house, his family, and his life, focusing instead on the fact that he had noticed her. After all, that was what Ginny had always wanted: to be noticed. She had always wanted to be heard, to have her opinion respected and taken into consideration, to have her say in the world around her. When she had seen Blaise on the train that fateful September day, she had finally found someone who cared enough to listen to her. Blinded by that fact, she had forgotten who he was and had decided to forget her own house, family, and friends, for him... and Draco.

Ginny dropped her head in shame when she thought of Draco. He must have been in the same predicament as Blaise had been. Both of them had come from rich, pureblooded families, and they were both only children. Draco was also the sole Malfoy heir, and he must have faced the same expectations that Blaise had. Instead of considering his lifestyle, she had simply walked away from him and Blaise.

Thinking back on the past few weeks, Ginny wondered if maybe she had been right in avoiding him and Blaise after that meeting with Voldemort. Merlin only knew what those two would have been capable of if they believed becoming Death Eaters was their duty to their families.

All of this doubt and questioning confused Ginny again; at this point, she was floundering in her sea of emotions, wondering just how she could make sense of all of this. The confusion she felt about Draco was further complicated by the fact she had been in love with him. Had he even felt an eighth of how she felt for him? Was he thinking of her when he decided to follow Voldemort? Or had she been as meaningless as a flubberworm, only a nuisance yet not worth any of his concern? For that matter, had Blaise thought about her when he made that same decision?

Rage seeped into the muddle of emotions and flowed through her. Both of them had obviously never thought about her or what she would think of their fates in life. They never thought to wonder if she would understand them or immediately hate them. Of course, she reasoned with herself, she had immediately hated them. But that was merely a reaction to this gross miscommunication between them! She wouldn't have gone straight to Harry if she knew that there was a logical reason behind their decision.

Shaking her head, Ginny stared at Blaise's nametag miserably. All of this knowledge was meaningless, now that Blaise was dead. Merlin knew it soothed some of her hurt, but what was the point in soothing the hurt when she couldn't tell him that she loved him? What good did understanding after the fact do, when it should have happened much earlier? With a sinking heart, Ginny knew that she had been an idiot this entire time for not trying to find the reasons behind Blaise and Draco's defection.

She mulled over the word "defection" for a moment, remembering that she had used that same word to describe Percy's betrayal of her family. If there was a reason for Blaise's defection, was there also a reason for Percy's? Ginny snapped out of her trance-like state immediately, berating herself for thinking that there was something good left in that git brother of hers.

Turning her attention back to Blaise, she tried to say something to him like she had done for Fred. Once again, she found herself speechless. One part of her just wanted to leave and figuratively "lick her wounds" elsewhere, while blaming Blaise and Draco for the mess that they had made. Yet, another, more sensible part of her mind rooted her feet to the floor, forcing her to acknowledge her own fault in their ruined friendship. Helpless to her own conscience, Ginny searched her mind for words to express what she felt.

Finally, she sighed deeply and whispered, "What happened to us, Blaise?" Well, she obviously knew the answer to that question, so she tried again. "Why did you do it?" No, she now knew the answer to that question, as well. With some reluctance, she finally bit out, "Where did I go wrong in this mess?"

There. She had finally admitted her own guilt in this situation; immediately after saying it, Ginny was amazed at how clearer her emotions seemed. Boosted by her admittance, she tentatively continued, "Why didn't you tell me why you did it? I would have understood, Blaise," she nearly pleaded with the figure before her, acting as though he were still alive. "I would have helped you find a way out. You didn't have to do all of this for your family. In fact," she changed her tone to a lighter one, "I think the future Zabinis would have respected you for breaking apart from your supposed duty to your family, and doing what you thought was right." She paused and murmured, "Of course, that's only if you really did feel that Voldemort was wrong..."

Realizing that she was opening a Pandora's box of questions, Ginny shook her mind to clear it, and changed tactics. "Now," she said sorrowfully, "there won't be any future Zabinis. Generations from now, people will only remember you as a Hogwarts student who was tragically lost during this battle. Right now," she continued earnestly, "the only thing separating you from the other bodies lying here on the floor is your name and..." she paused as she looked at his nametag again, "your wand."

She shook her head sadly and continued, "I wish I could know if you really thought it was worth it. Was it worth dying for your obligations to your family, Blaise? Was it worth losing the right to follow your own heart, only to end up on this cold floor? Did you think it was worthwhile to hurt me," she bit out the last word with a choked tone, "to do your duty? Was I really worth nothing to you?" she finished in a full sob.

Tears escaped her eyes as she closed them. After a few moments, she realized that her tears wouldn't stop; she rose to her feet and shakily whispered, "I wish you had trusted me more." With one last, longing look, she quickly turned and blindly found her way past the bodies to the door. Sparing a final glance at the room, which was now a blue and white blur through her tears, Ginny finally stepped outside and shut the door behind her.

The soft click from the door's bolt echoed through the quiet infirmary. Ginny's tearful expression quickly turned to one of apprehension when she saw a nearby clock; she had spent nearly an hour in a cold room, surrounded by lifeless bodies. Horrified by being surrounded by death, she tiptoed her way to the infirmary door, hoping to calm her nerves with some fresh air. Just as she reached out to twist the knob, she heard heavy footsteps approaching the door from the other side.

Instinct overruled her mind as Ginny immediately scampered to her bed, kicked off her shoes and dove under the sheets, feigning sleep. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she heard the infirmary door slowly creak open; heavy steps echoed through the room as the person entered and made their way to the beds. Ginny was tense with anticipation, hoping that they were here to see her. However, the unknown person stopped near the vicinity of the closest bed to the door, which was certainly not hers.

Ginny was a little disappointed by this, but curiosity got the best of her when she heard a grunt and shuffling robes. Quieting her thoughts, she focused on listening to whatever this mysterious person was doing in the room. Her careful ears picked up the faint sound of bedsprings creaking as something was laid on the bed that this person had stopped at. The same heavy steps echoed again as the person moved to the doorway leading to Madame Pomfrey's private chamber; she heard her or him knock once on the door, then open it on their own. There was a soft rustle of robes, and then the door was shut from within Pomfrey's chambers.

Noticing that the room was silent again, Ginny cautiously opened her eyes and slowly sat up, hoping to catch a glimpse of what had been dropped on the bed. Before her eyes adjusted to the lighting of the room, she heard running feet approaching the infirmary door from the outside hallway. She immediately dropped flat on her bed and resumed acting as though she was asleep. The footsteps soon reached the open door of the infirmary, and Ginny was surprised to distinguish two sets of footsteps. One consisted mostly of rusting robes; the other was a stalking gait with sure steps. Just as she finished processing this information, the stalking gait faltered by the bed that was nearest to the door.

"Potter?" someone asked.

Ginny's eyes flew open in shock, but she immediately closed them and willed her breathing to slow down. She recognized that voice, all right; it belonged to Draco Malfoy.

She forgot about listening to the newer occupants of the room as her mind teemed with questions. Why was he in the infirmary, instead of at Azkaban, where the other Death Eaters probably were? Was he hurt? Had something happened to someone she knew? Before Ginny moved on to realizing the name Draco had said, her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a woman's loud gasp.

Ginny's mind immediately returned to the other people who were in the infirmary with her. Ginny had heard that gasp loads of times in this very room; Madame Pomfrey must be there.

"Headmaster, Mr. Malfoy," said a gravelly, deep voice, which Ginny knew belonged to Professor Snape. Before she could even wonder what he was doing there, he continued in a quietly amazed tone, almost as though he were talking to himself, "I never thought I'd live to see this day."

What day? Ginny longed to cry out, but she held her tongue and waited breathlessly.

She didn't have to wait for long. "The Boy-Who-Lived," he paused for effect, "is now dead."