Hogwarts: A History

Harry set the thought aside and began to do what he usually did during meals. He stared at her, admiring her features. Cho was designated as forbidden territory since Harry had seen her boyfriend fall to the ground dead. There had been times when Harry attempted to approach her, but a lump in his chest seemed to swell when he was in close proximity to her, forcing him to withdraw. He would watch her constantly, but this action only caused him immense amounts of pain. Not only did the visions of her turning him down, when he asked her out fourth year, return, but the images of Cedric crumpling and folding on himself. Harry pretended to not feel anything about what had happened the previous year, but inside it tore at him, ripped at his insides until he feared there would be nothing left of him. He slit the gaze he was holding on her, and jerked his head violently to thwart the increasingly vivid memories.

When times grew increasingly rough for Harry, he turned to Ron. Ron was the only person who could calm him with his humor and light personality. He made a mental note to talk to Ron as soon as they were alone, since such a topic of romance and torture wasn't the sort of thing he and Hermione could discuss.

When Harry's eyes caught at Ron, he saw that he was still talking to Hermione in a way that seemed to seclude Harry. Harry felt more desperate than ever to converse with his friend, but didn't want to tear him from her. He waited, stuffing the fear and anger and pain tighter inside himself.

-+*<>*+-

Ron and Hermione stood up and began filing out of the Hall. Harry followed, eagerly awaiting a chance to pull Ron aside. They walked in front of him laughing and flirting; completely ignoring Harry who kept attempting to join.

As they came to face the Fat Lady, Ron uttered the password quietly and immediately continued talking to Hermione. Harry stood behind them and sighed, realizing that he might never be able to talk to his friend. The couple entered the portrait hole and Harry snapped out of his deep thoughts to walk through after them. Before he could enter, the picture snapped shut, skimming a cool breeze past his face. Harry knew the password, but was so upset from the lack of attention he stood staring for a moment or two.

"Numquam Amora," Harry sighed heavily as the door flew open and he entered.

He saw Ron sitting casually on an overstuffed red couch in front of the fire. Luckily, Hermione had seemed to take an early night, giving Harry a chance to accomplish his task.

"Ron?" Harry asked gently. Ron rotated to face him, acknowledged his presence, and turned back to face the fire.

"Yeah, what is it?" Ron questioned without a shred of interest.

"I just need to talk to you about something. It's not much I just...don't really feel myself lately." He rounded the couch and sat next to his friend, who eyed him curiously.

"Is it about me and Hermione? 'Cause honestly Harry you know how much I like her, and just because all my attention isn't on you anymore, don't mean we're not still friends!"

"Fine Ron. I'm going to bed." Harry wasn't sure why, but he would rather kiss Voldemort than continue the conversation. Something about hearing Ron automatically associate anything that occurred with Hermione, made him tired. He felt like the effort it took to explain himself wasn't worth the energy. As he rose and walked towards the dormitories, he felt an overwhelming longing inside him to be alone. He wanted nothing more than to lie in the darkness and think about his mother, Cho, Cedric, and Voldemort. Thinking about them had become a part of Harry, and although he would do anything to forget them, he was feeling pain when he could not dream about them.

-+*<>*+-

Ginny felt the wind wash over her, tossing her hair as if it were a gleaming red flag. She gazed down to the ground, so far and minute. Tears streamed down her face, though her expression was unaltered. It was the look of a person who had lost all caring emotions, but was stubborn and contrite.

The sun was partially set, causing a kiss of orange light to dance across her skin, sparkle off her tears. She was so close to the edge now, so near to her destiny. She felt like if she reached out far enough, she could touch some sense of understanding. However, she knew that as soon as comprehension came upon her, she would fall to her death.

She had always been the quiet, invisible Weasley, who never did anything but fail. By doing this, she would not only rid herself of the pain and suffering, but be known. People had muttered her name two years ago, but only because she had been saved by Harry Potter. She was going to do this on her own. She was going to make them miss her.

She extended her foot and brought her head up to face the sun. The light warmed her cheeks and she felt unnaturally serene. Her lids fell to cover her eyes; she leaned forward, and fell.