Broken Fate

Chapter Sixteen ~ Aftermath

Hermione and Will made their way to the hospital wing in silence. Hermione had a million thoughts running through her head, and Will seemed almost afraid to talk to her now. Learning Will was her future self's son was a shock, but Hermione had the great fortune of having just begun dating Ron. She was so completely in love with him that the concept of them one day having a child together wasn't implausible at all. True, she wouldn't have expected to meet said future child, but it was a reality she now faced, and if there was one thing Hermione Granger was good at, it was facing and sorting out the obvious.

Harry and Ginny, on the other hand...Hermione could only imagine how awkward things might be for them. The summer after Ginny's third year, she had told Hermione, "I've given up on Harry liking me...I've decided to just let that go and be friends with him, and I've started dating Michael Corner. I've been so silly around Harry...he really hasn't seen me for who I am."

And with that resolution, she had indeed become her normal self around Harry. Hermione was proud of her for becoming Harry's friend, and she hoped that the friendship was not going to unravel because of all of this. Though if Ginny has anything to say about it, it won't, she thought wryly. Ginny Weasley could be very stubborn when she wanted to be.

When they entered the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey hurried out of her office. "Mr. Warren...and Miss Granger? What are you doing down here? It is after curfew."

"Professor McGonagall knows I'm with Will," Hermione told her quite honestly.

Madam Pomfrey sighed. "Fine, then, but I don't want either of you disturbing my patient. She needs her rest," she told them severely.

"We won't, Madam Pomfrey," Will told her solemnly.

Madam Pomfrey retreated to her office, and Will walked over to an occupied hospital bed. Hermione followed him, swallowing hard despite herself. Will slid onto a stool beside the bed, and Hermione approached slowly. She stopped at the end of the hospital bed. The first thing she noticed was a mop of red hair sticking out from the sheets. Well, she has the Weasley hair, at least.

Will was studying her with a tilted head. "This is Molly," he whispered, taking the little girl's hand.

Hermione stepped around the bed to stand across from Will. She looked down at the tiny child on the bed. "She looks just like Ron," she whispered back in awe. Slowly, not quite sure if she should be doing so, she reached out and touched Molly's nose. "Except for that. That's mine." Mine...my little girl, in a very weird way.

The memory of what Jamie had said happened to Molly as a baby rose up in her mind, and her throat tightened. What must have it been like for her future self, to be forced to watch her baby daughter tortured? Will had said that the Death Eaters tried to get information, and that Ron and Hermione wouldn't give it to them, so they had tortured Molly. Would I have stood by and watched my baby be tortured, or would I have given information that could possibly lead to the deaths of hundreds, depending on what I knew? What did I know?

Hesitantly, Hermione said, "Will? In...in the future..." No, she shouldn't ask. Will had already had to relive it once this evening; she shouldn't make him live it again.

"Yes?" Will asked. He noticed her reluctance to speak, and smiled sadly. "It's all right. You can ask me whatever you want."

"How...what did the future me know that the Death Eaters wanted? You said that Ron and I refused to tell them anything, and that's why they tortured Molly, and we still didn't tell them anything, so they finally tortured us." Her eyes fell on Molly again, and she whispered, "Was it worth not telling them, if it did all this damage to her?"

Will looked startled. He frowned, and shook his head. "I should have clarified. My parents wouldn't tell them anything--but the truth is, you didn't have what information they were looking for. Even I knew that, when I heard what they were asking you." Hermione didn't ask what the Death Eaters had wanted to know; it didn't matter. "That was a system that all of our parents set up before we were ever born. Each person who was part of the Order--yes, we had the Order in our time, too--knew only a bit of information about it, or about who was part of it. That way, if they were caught, they couldn't be forced to tell much. So naturally, my mother and father were going to refuse to tell the Death Eaters anything--regardless to what they actually knew or didn't know." He hesitated, and then plunged on. "When the Death Eaters brought Molly down...well, you..." his voice trailed off, and Hermione saw the pain in his eyes as he got lost again in the memory. "You tried telling them things to get them to stop torturing her," he whispered. He sighed. "I'm sure they were lies--but they sounded believable. It just wasn't what the Death Eaters thought you knew--so they kept torturing her anyway, and then went on to torture the two of you."

Hermione absorbed this information. She felt a little better knowing her future self hadn't sacrificed her daughter to keep silence, and that she probably hadn't betrayed anyone or anything. It had been a situation in which there was no way out. That wasn't something to which Hermione was accustomed. In her life, she had always found a way out. Sometimes things came close, but there had always been an escape.

What had her future self been thinking when she died? Had she died believing that her children would be murdered? Had she died without hope?

Tears spilled down her cheeks before she noticed, and she quickly grabbed a tissue off of the table beside Molly's bed and wiped her face. She turned her focus back on Will. "And to think I've been giving you tutoring lessons for three weeks. How...motherly of me," she said, half a smile on her face.

Will looked down at his hands. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"We really didn't mean to mess up your lives," he said unhappily.

Hermione frowned. "I don't think you messed up our lives, Will. I do think it will be an adjustment, but...we'll get used to it, you know. We've gotten used to a lot in our lives, as I'm sure you have. I can only imagine what it must be like for you."

Will glanced up and met her eyes. "Weird," he said, with a half-smile of his own.

"There are a couple of things I still don't understand, though," Hermione said thoughtfully.

"What's that?"

"Well, I've read many different theories on time-travel--I read them mostly during my third year, when I had a Time-Turner..." She launched into an explanation of some of the theories she'd read. Her experiences, she told him, had been that anything that took place actually happened because of her time-traveling.

In turn, Will shared what he, Shay, and Jamie had discovered in their search for information on time-traveling in the future. Shay and Jamie had apparently snuck into the Ministry of Magic--which, Will said, had been half-destroyed anyway--and found a room in the Department of Mysteries which they described as a 'time room.' Hermione had known instantly which room he referred to--she had seen that very place, when she, Ron, Harry, Neville, Ginny, and Luna went to the Ministry to 'rescue' Sirius.

"They found a file full of theories on time-travel, and the gist of it was that there are different possibilities for time-travel. In some cases, the things that happen are caused because of the time-traveling. In other cases, an alternate timeline is created, which seems to be what happened in this time. In your journal, the future you thought that she would be the one to travel back in time. She had no memories of ever meeting me, or Shay, or Jamie," Will said.

"How do you know that you didn't travel back in time, and the future me never met you? Or that if she did, her memories of it weren't erased?"

Will looked startled. "We don't, I suppose. But I'm pretty sure we didn't, since this is an alternate timeline. In the original timeline, Ron had the Gourl until the end of the year. You never dated him until the end of the year. Shay certainly wasn't in the Society of Slytherins, and there was no Hogwarts Coalition."

Hermione nodded in assent. "I'll give you that. But we still have to be very, very careful. You don't know how Dumbledore died--no one does. We have to make sure we don't inadvertently cause his death. Now, my second question: why did you come back to this time in particular?"

"My mum's journal. In it, she wrote that she thought about going back to her one of her first Four Years, and changing it so that Voldemort never got his body back, but then realized that she might mess something up--that something important might have happened that Harry needed in order to vanquish him. Then she thought about going back even further, and killing Tom Riddle before he became Voldemort. She then realized that the consequences of that could be utterly dire. Even if the prophecy wasn't given until just before Harry's birth, she thought that if she tried to kill Tom Riddle before he became Voldemort, she might fail...that maybe no matter what the Time, Harry had to be the one to do the deed.

"We thought about going to different times, too, but it all came back to one thing: we had to save Dumbledore, the only one Voldemort ever feared, and give Harry a chance. It was Tonks that we needed to stop--or so we thought--and we needed to get as close to this period of time as we could. The longer we were here before the Gourl was created, the more we might mess up, if that makes sense."

"It does make sense," Hermione said. "If any of this makes sense. But...another thing I don't understand...if you don't succeed, and Dumbledore dies, can't you just go back and start the year over, and try again?" Of course, it would mean that Hermione wouldn't remember any of this, and she didn't like that thought.

Will shook his head. "There was a catch with the Time-Turner. It only works once. It's useless now. No one will ever be able to use it again."

That, Hermione thought, was probably a good thing. The more a person meddled with time, the more complicated things got, and the more could be messed up.

She sat back in her chair and mulled all of this over in her mind. She came to the same conclusion that she had at the end of her third year: time was complex, and it was something to be left alone. Finally, she turned her thoughts to more simple matters, and decided to find out a little more about Will's life. "What about my parents? Did you ever know them?" Hermione asked curiously.

Will shook his head. "They died before I was born," he said sadly. "Killed in a giant rampage in London when they were visiting. And as Jamie said, my other grandparents died when I was very young."

"Oh." Hermione rubbed her forehead tiredly. Was everyone in their blasted future dead?

They sat in silence for a while, both lost in their own thoughts, until Will suddenly blurted out, "Are you and Ron going to break up now?"

Startled, Hermione looked up and met his eyes. "Break up? Why on earth would we do that?"

"Because of me," Will said miserably.

Hermione's brow furrowed in confusion. "What do you mean, because of you? You mean, because we know you exist? Why would we break up because of that?"

"Well...maybe you're so creeped out by it that you won't...you know, stay together."

Hermione studied Will sympathetically for a moment. "You're carrying far too much on your shoulders, you know," she told him. "Keep doing that, and one of these days you're going to crack."

Will looked surprised by her response. "What?"

"Will, listen. You've just been telling me--things have changed. I can't predict how the future will happen...I can't tell you for sure that Ron and I will be married. Even if we are married, it's very questionable whether you'll actually be born. We might get married, and have a girl first. And even if by some miracle, another Will is born--and by that, I mean that we have a son that is genetically you--well...I sincerely hope that he will grow up in a different world, in a different lifestyle than you did. And if that's the case, then no matter how much this child would look and sound like you, he wouldn't be you. Do you understand?"

"I...I think so." Will was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "What about Harry and Ginny?"

"Harry and Ginny," Hermione sighed. "Well...I can't say for sure. That's something they'll have to work out for themselves."

~*~

Ginny tiptoed into her dark dormitory, barely able to see where she was going. She tripped over something that was on the floor and fell to the ground with a loud thump. She heard Alexia, one of her three dormmates, murmur and roll over in bed. Elspeth didn't even stir. Holly, on the other hand, gasped and sat up, flinging her bed curtains back. "Ginny? You all right?"

Ginny winced, rubbing her knee. "Yes. Just tripped over--" she picked up the offending item "--Elspeth's book bag." Elspeth was always leaving her book bag--and all of her other belongings--all over the place. She was incredibly absent-minded, and very untidy. Her area of the room was a disaster, and more often then not, the disaster started escaping across the floor. "Sorry...didn't mean to wake you."

"It's all right." Yawning, Holly closed her curtains.

Ginny continued to her bed in the far left corner more cautiously. When she was there, she closed her bed curtains firmly, then curled up on the bed. It was late--nearing midnight--but she didn't think she could sleep if she tried. The events of the evening kept running through her head. Jamie Potter's face, in particular, stuck in her mind as if it had been spelled there with a Permanent Sticking Charm.

Moaning, Ginny flopped face-first onto her pillow. Ron was right; this had been the strangest night of her life. And the look on Harry's face...it must have been similar to her own. Then Harry wouldn't even look at her. Had the fragile friendship she had worked so hard to build with him come crashing down in the space of a few hours? Did she want it to?

"Of course you don't," she whispered fiercely, her voice muffled by the pillow. Things had just become so complicated, in more ways than one. The problem, Ginny realized, was her. She had been telling the truth: she had spent four years shying away whenever Harry was around because she'd had a horrible crush on him. She had given up on that--she had accepted that Harry was never going to like her that way. It had been rather freeing, actually. She had become much more self-assured around him, and finally felt that she could be herself.

She wasn't going to suddenly go back to being shy around him--she had come beyond that immaturity. The problem, the thing she was now facing, but not wanting to see, was that her crush for Harry had not been stamped out. Her feelings for him had changed, yes, but while she had spent the past year believing that she really had gotten over Harry, she now saw that wasn't the case.

"How could you delude yourself like this?" Ginny muttered angrily to herself, rolling over onto her back. "You didn't get over him."

It had taken meeting Jamie Potter, hearing her say that Harry and Ginny had been married in the future, to realize how much she truly cared for Harry--as more than a friend. The feelings had never gone away--they had changed and deepened, and become more than just a crush.

What about Michael Corner, and Dean Thomas? Was I just trying to date them so that I wouldn't think about Harry? Because I was trying to forget anything I might have felt for him? Ginny wondered. Here I've been lecturing Ron on his relationships, and not even seeing my own!

"What am I supposed to do?" she groaned.

"Gin?" Holly's tired voice mumbled.

Ginny winced. "Sorry, Hol," she apologized again. She had a habit of talking to herself, especially when she was trying to sort something out, and often didn't realize she was doing it.

What was she supposed to do now? What was Harry feeling right now? Was he going to avoid her for the rest of his life because he was afraid she would try to come onto him?

Ginny was generally a very perceptive person. It was something she had learned in years of growing up with six older brothers who were always into things--be it mischief and trouble, romances, jobs--she had seen much of life in the way her brothers lived. She had learned to be observant, and to pick up on things other people missed. Oh, she wasn't all that great at piecing together mysteries, like Hermione was. No, Ginny was good at figuring out people, at least to some degree. Take Ron and Harry. Through years of experience, she could read Ron like an open book. The boy was just not good at hiding his emotions. Harry, on the other hand, was harder to figure out, and Ginny wasn't so arrogant that she believed she knew everything that went on in his mind and soul. But she had known him for five years, and even if she had been too enamored with him to really talk to him for the first four, she had observed certain things about him, and since her fourth year, she had been able to really talk to him and let him get to know the real Ginny Weasley.

Now that might all be destroyed because of tonight.

And Jamie Potter. Her daughter. Harry's daughter. She had picked up quite a few things from watching Jamie--most prominently, that the girl was lonely. Ginny felt terrible for the future Jamie and the others had grown up in, and she certainly didn't blame the poor girl for anything that might happen--or not happen--between her and Harry.

Ginny tossed and turned for the majority of the night, trying to figure out what to do now, trying to decide what she should and should not tell Harry. She accidentally woke up Holly two more times while talking to herself, and thanked her lucky stars that Holly was such an easy-going dormmate--probably one reason she was chosen as the fifth year prefect. Alexia would have been a grouch all day if she got woken up four times because of Ginny.

On top of that, she kept thinking of Jamie, and Jamie's future, and everything she had suffered. The state of shock she had been in upon learning Jamie's identity was slowly wearing off, and and with it, she felt more and more as if her world had been ripped up, tipped upside down, and shaken. What was she supposed to do? She now had a future daughter who was older than her. How odd was that? Jamie didn't plan on calling her 'Mum,' did she?

Ginny had to giggle at that image, but then she was back to running everything through her mind, again and again and again. By the end of the night, Ginny had decided that she would not withdraw from Harry, and that she would do her best to put Harry at ease with her so that he would not withdraw from her. She was determined that for now, regardless to any feelings she might have realized she had for him, she would be his friend, and only his friend. Right now, that was what Harry needed from her, especially in light of the past evening. As for Jamie--well, she would take that situation one delicate step at a time. There was no reason she could not also befriend Jamie--Ginny might not be able to offer her a mother, but she could certainly offer her friendship.

It was nearing five in the morning when Ginny pulled herself out of bed. She knew she would be dozing in classes all day, but she was glad that she had at least sorted some things out in her own mind.

Now to the task of talking with Harry...

~*~

Harry was nowhere to be seen, but Ron was sitting in the common room when Ginny went downstairs. "Get any sleep?" she asked.

Ron looked up at her with bloodshot eyes. His red hair stuck up in every direction, as if he had been running his hands through it. "You have to be kidding."

"Have you seen Harry or Hermione?"

"Harry's still in his bed--I don't think he's asleep, though. I haven't seen Hermione."

"I peeked into her dormitory--she's not there. Maybe she stayed the night in the hospital wing." Ginny hesitated. "Do you want to go down there?" She felt a bit of trepidation at the thought of seeing Will, Shay, or Jamie, but she knew it was something she was just going to have to deal with and overcome. She also knew that Molly--Ron's future daughter Molly--was in the hospital wing, and it might help reality set in more if they went to see her.

Ron hesitated, then finally nodded. "Yeah. Sure. We can go down."

The siblings walked in silence through the corridors and down to the hospital wing. Ginny wasn't sure what Ron had been thinking about the whole situation, but she surmised from the look on his face that he was still in a state of disbelief.

When they entered the hospital wing, there was no sight of Madam Pomfrey. Will and Hermione were both there. Will was seated on a chair beside a bed, holding a little girl's hand. He was sleeping, his head resting on the bed, and from his position, Ginny thought he must be very uncomfortable. Hermione was sound asleep on the next hospital bed. Hermione must have been the only one who got any sleep last night, Ginny sighed enviously.

Not wanting to disturb anyone from their slumber, Ginny and Ron tiptoed over to the bed and looked down at little Molly Weasley. Ginny's eyes widened, and she was struck by how much Molly looked like her as a child. Ron blinked, then took a step back from the bed. "This is nutters," he whispered, for the dozenth time since last night.

Ginny continued to study the child, and was surprised when her brown eyes blinked open, then widened. She looked very startled. "It's all right," she murmured. "I'm not going to hurt you." She leaned forward, and Molly cringed back. Tearing her eyes off of Ginny, she looked wildly around. When she saw Will slumped beside her, she squirmed closer to him and wrapped her arms around his head.

Will jerked awake and almost smacked his head into Molly's chin. "Molly? What's wrong?" Molly struggled out of her bedsheets until she could properly fling herself onto her brother, wrapping her arms and legs around him and pressing her face into his neck. From that safe vantage point, she peeked out at Ron and Ginny. Will looked up at them and offered a tired smile. "Hi," he said, in a very uncertain tone. He was probably wondering how Ron and Ginny were going to react.

Ginny sat down on the end of Molly's bed. "Hi," she said, smiling cheerfully in return. She gave Ron a pointed look, and he shuffled, then said, more awkwardly, "'Morning." He eyed Molly for a minute, and then said, still more uncomfortably, "So...er...she's..." He shook his head and shrugged helplessly.

"This is Molly," Will said softly. "Molly, this is Ron, and this is Ginny." He pointed to each of them in turn.

Ginny reached over and prodded Hermione, who groaned. "What time is it? Am I late?" She must have suddenly remembered where she was and what had happened, because she gasped and quickly sat up. Her robes were all wrinkled from having slept in them.

Her eyes fell on Will and Molly, and all she could do was stare at them for a long minute.

"This is Molly," Will finally told her. "Molly, this is Hermione."

Molly peered at her for a moment, then stuck her thumb in her mouth and laid her head on Will's shoulder.

Hermione slipped out of bed and stepped next to Ron, wrapping an arm around him. He looked down at Hermione with a lost, almost disbelieving expression on his pale face.

Ginny decided to give them some time alone. Maybe they would sort some things out. "I'm going to get some breakfast," she said. She smiled again at Molly, then left the hospital wing. She really wanted to talk to Harry, but he wasn't in the Great Hall when she arrived there.

Neville was, though. Ginny halted inside the doors, her gaze on the round-faced boy. Should I tell him what's going on? Shay, Neville's future son, hadn't been very happy about talking about his parents. Maybe Shay's the one who needs to tell Neville about it...but what if he decides not to? Neville deserves to know. He's part of this, too.

Ginny approached the Gryffindor table and slid into the seat across from Neville. "Hi, Ginny!" he greeted her cheerfully.

"Hi, Neville. Are you busy?"

"No, just finishing breakfast. Why?"

"We need to talk."

~*~

Forty-five minutes later, Neville sank back into the chair he was sitting in. Ginny had led him to an empty classroom and explained everything that had happened the night before. Now Neville looked lost. Ginny felt complete sympathy and understanding for him. "So..." Neville struggled to find something to say. "So Shay Long is my...my future son?"

Ginny didn't blame him for sounding incredulous. "Yes," she said. "I know it's strange, Neville."

Neville shook his head. "Strange doesn't even begin to describe it. And I can't believe that Will is really Ron and Hermione's son from the future. He's become a good friend." He was quiet for a few minutes, and Ginny let him think. "So...er...what do you want me to do?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well..." Neville began awkwardly. "I don't know what to say to Shay."

"Oh, Neville...you don't have to talk to him--he doesn't know you know, though he may have guessed we'd tell you. I just thought it would only be fair to tell you."

Neville nodded numbly. "Thanks...I think."

Ginny stood to her feet and patted his arm. She knew Neville well enough to realize that he would probably keep all of this locked inside, and deal with it privately. He would adjust to it, as the rest of them would.

She was walking out of the classroom, but stopped when Neville said, "Ginny?"

She turned. "Yes?"

"I...I know what it's like to grow up without parents...even if mine are still alive. I...I never wanted that to happen to any of my children." His brow wrinkled in a frown. "Not that I really thought a lot about having my own kids. And...Gabrielle Delacour? I can't believe I married her...I mean, I'm sure she's nice and everything, but...well, I only just saw her during the Triwizard Tournament, and she was so...little."

Ginny offered him a sympathetic half-smile. "I know exactly how you feel, Neville. You don't have to marry Gabrielle just because that's what happened in their future. And...well, we're going to do everything we can to help our future kids stop what they came here to stop."

Neville swallowed and nodded determinedly. "I want to help, too."

~*~

"Harry?" Sari Xiu, forehead wrinkled in concern, peered into Harry's face. "Are you all right?" she asked, signing as she spoke.

Harry sighed and rubbed his eyes. His head hurt. "I'm fine," he said aloud, while signing the words slowly in return. He had met her after school for one of his sign-language tutoring sessions, but it hadn't taken long for Sari to realize how utterly distracted he was. Of course, he had been utterly distracted all day. He had rushed through corridors between classes, hoping that if he could just make it to each class, he could let his mind focus on what was being taught. He didn't want to think about last night anymore. He had thought about it most of the night, and he was tired of running it over and over in his mind.

And Ginny...Ginny had tried to talk to him a couple of times today, but he had found excuses to slip away. He knew that inevitably, she would eventually corner him, but he wanted to put it off for as long as possible...or at least until his mind was a little clearer.

He didn't quite know why he couldn't look Ginny in the eye, or why he was avoiding her...it wasn't like she was going to suddenly want to marry him just because of what they had heard about the future, was it? The future wasn't written, right? So there was no reason for him to think that he had to marry Ginny.

His headache was getting worse, and he pushed the whole ordeal out of his mind again, focusing on Sari. Sorry, he signed without speaking, practicing getting the motions correct. I'm tired. I didn't get much--"I don't know the word for sleep," he said.

Sari showed him what it was, and he copied it. I didn't get much sleep, he finished.

Sari smiled. "It's all right," she told him. "You're still doing very well."

Harry managed to return the smile. He was quite pleased with his progress. On top of the lessons she had been giving him, she had lent him a book called Signing to Speak. He had been doing his best to study it at night, to learn as much as he could of her language.

When Aiden Connor came to collect Sari--apparently the First Years were doing something together that afternoon--Harry trailed out onto the grounds. Though it wasn't raining, the sky was still gray, and the ground was wet, just as it had been the other morning, when he and Ginny had conversed by the lake.

Harry sighed irritably. He was trying to get Ginny out of his mind, not into it. He stared down at Hagrid's cabin longingly, wishing that he was home, wishing that he could sit at his table and have a cup of dandelion juice, and even a rock-hard biscuit. He still didn't know where Hagrid was.

Harry glanced toward the Forbidden Forest. Things had been fairly quiet in there, and Harry wondered, not for the first time, if Hagrid had taken his giant of a half-brother with him, wherever he was. Grawp certainly hadn't come storming onto Hogwarts grounds, for which Harry was grateful.

After taking a long walk around the lake, Harry reluctantly headed back up to Gryffindor Tower. And of course, the inevitable came sooner than he'd hoped. Ginny was sitting on the floor, leaning on the wall beside the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"...life's confusing at times, dear," the Fat Lady was saying placatingly. "I'm sure whatever's bothering you will work itself out."

Ginny sighed heavily. "I hope so." Then she caught sight of Harry and jumped to her feet. "Oh, good. I was waiting for you."

Ignoring the urge to turn around and run the other way, Harry asked, "Why are you outside of Gryffindor Tower? Wouldn't it be more comfortable in the common room?"

"It's crowded right now." Ginny said simply. "The First Years have some kind of project going on in there, and I didn't want to deal with everyone." She rubbed her temples, and Harry wondered if she had a headache, too. "Can we talk?"

Harry frowned. "Look, I'm not really--"

"Please, Harry. I know you've been avoiding me all day, and I really just need to talk to you. Please." Ginny looked at him pleadingly.

Harry sighed. "All right." Best to get it over with now, he thought resolutely.

He and Ginny trailed away from Gryffindor Tower. Unlike the other day, the silence was anything but comfortable. Ginny found the nearest abandoned classroom and motioned Harry inside, then locked the door. She sat on one of the desks and faced Harry, who crossed his arms and leaned against the door.

Ginny stared at him for a moment, and then jumped right in. "Look," she said, "I know that everything that happened last night was...weird."

"That's an understatement."

"But Harry..." Ginny looked down at her hands, then back up at Harry, and he was surprised to see the intensity in her eyes. She looked so...sad. "I don't want this to come between our friendship. I mean, it's not like I suddenly want to start shagging you just because I found out we had a daughter in the future, all right? I just...I just want to be your friend. If you'll let me."

Harry shifted uncomfortably. He sighed again. "Ginny..." he trailed off, not sure how to express what he was feeling. "I...I like being your friend. It's..." He was bad at this. What was he supposed to say? Finally, he shrugged helplessly.

"This isn't easy for me, either," Ginny said with a sigh of her own. "It's...it's just so overwhelming. The thought of having a daughter with...with anyone right now is scary. I thought about it all night, and the more I thought about it, the more I realized that I don't want to know my future. In some ways, I'm afraid it won't be changed, and I don't want to know everything about my life. Having a future that's uncertain is part of the joy of life."

Ginny's words broke something in Harry. "It's a bit late for that, though, isn't it?" he asked bitterly.

Ginny didn't reply, but looked at him questioningly, and without really wanting them to, the words poured from his mouth. "I don't want to deal with this," he said, pacing across the classroom floor. "It seems like my entire life has been controlled by...by fate. A prophecy made before I was even born brought me to the point where I am now. Don't you see? My future is already written." In his agitation, his voice was getting louder, but he didn't care. "I have to kill Voldemort. Me. No one else. And if I fail, then millions of people are destined to suffer."

Understanding and surprise dawned on Ginny's face. "Jamie's future isn't your fault, Harry."

"Then whose is it?" Harry asked loudly. "It's my fault! Mine! In her future, I failed to kill Voldemort. I caused the deaths of hundreds, probably millions. Just like I caused Sirius's death, and my parents'!" He couldn't believe he was saying all of this, to Ginny of all people, but it had been building up since Sirius's death and now it was as if a tidal wave had been unleashed. He couldn't stop the words. "If I hadn't been so stupid and gullible, Sirius would be alive!"

Ginny blinked, her forehead creased in concern. "Harry, Sirius's death wasn't your fault."

"YES, IT WAS!" Harry roared.

Ginny didn't flinch. "No, it wasn't. Bellatrix Lestrange killed him, Harry. Not you."

"I CAUSED IT! IF I HADN'T GONE TO THE MINISTRY, HE WOULD STILL BE ALIVE! IF I HAD LISTENED TO HERMIONE, HE WOULD BE HERE RIGHT NOW!" Catching himself, Harry lowered his voice several decibels. "She told me. Just before we went to the Ministry, she told me that I have a...a 'saving people thing,'" he said angrily. "I yelled at her. I was so determined that I had to save him, and I didn't want to hear her. If I hadn't thought I was invulnerable--"

Ginny looked puzzled, and then she shook her head. That angered him further. Before he could snap at her, she said, "Harry, I don't think you thought you were invulnerable."

Harry's jaw clenched. "Oh, yeah? And how do you know what I think?"

"Harry..." Ginny began. She stopped, thought for a minute, and then said, "You've been through a lot in your lifetime, and especially since you've come to Hogwarts. You've faced Voldemort four times. When..." she hesitated again, and then continued, "When you came down to the Chamber of Secrets to save me, you had to have been scared."

Where was she going with this? "Of course I was scared," Harry said coldly. "Voldemort was down there with a giant basilisk that wanted to kill me, if you remember."

"And you knew there was a possibility that you might die."

"Yes."

"But you came anyway. Why?"

Her question caught Harry off guard, and he stopped his pacing. "Because I was the only one who could."

"That's not true. You could have told McGonagall, or any of the other teachers."

"We tried telling Lockhart...and then we didn't have time to tell anyone else," Harry said. "Besides..." He frowned, not sure what the 'besides' was. He considered for a moment, and then said, "I...wasn't sure I could depend on the teachers to help me." Hadn't it been that way in his first year? No one had listened when he told them the Stone was in danger. Adults could be so narrow-minded about things.

"I don't think that you believed you were indestructible or invulnerable. You just said it yourself--you knew you could die. I think you did what you felt you had to do, regardless to your own personal risk--not because you thought there wasn't personal risk."

Harry shook his own head. "I had to have thought I was invulnerable."

"Why?"

Was Ginny trying to make his head spin in confusion? She was certainly doing a good job of it. "Because..." Emotions swirled through him, emotions that he did not want to feel, that he had been covering for a long time. "I must have thought I was invulnerable, or I would have taken more precautions at the Ministry. I wouldn't have just rushed headlong and gotten Sirius killed."

Ginny gave him a sad smile. "No, Harry. You did it because you thought you were the only one who could. You said it. It's the same reason you came down to the Chamber to get me."

Harry thought he understood what she was saying. "Because I have a 'saving people thing,'" he said bitterly.

"Because you love those close to you and you want to make sure they're safe."

"Well, some job I do of it!" Harry snapped. "I just get everyone around me killed! My parents, Cedric, Sirius...and in the future, more people then I want to imagine!" He began his frenzied pacing again.

"Harry, you didn't kill your parents, or Cedric, or Sirius."

"YES, I did! I might not have pointed my wand at them and said the curses, but I as good as did the deed! Because of the stupid fate that I never asked for! Because of some prophecy that was made about me! My parents died because of it! Cedric was murdered because Voldemort wanted me! He wouldn't have died if I hadn't told him to take the Triwizard Cup with me! AND SIRIUS WOULDN'T HAVE DIED IF I HADN'T BEEN SO STUPID!" Harry wished he had something to throw against the wall. It might make him feel a little better, release some of the emotions burning through him. "I DON'T WANT THIS BROKEN FATE!" he shouted. "I don't want to be famous Harry Potter! I don't want to be a novelty, or a killer, or some idolized hero! I don't want the future of the world to depend upon me. I - NEVER - ASKED - FOR - ANY - OF - THIS!" He had reached the door again, and he slammed his fists against it. "I DON'T WANT ANYONE ELSE TO DIE BECAUSE OF ME! EVERYONE I EVER LOVE SUFFERS BECAUSE OF ME!"

Shaking, he leaned his forehead against the wooden door. He couldn't turn around, couldn't look at Ginny. He shouldn't even be saying all of this, especially to her. An ocean of emotions washed over him: anger--mostly at himself--fear, and above all, a horrible guilt that ate away at his very soul.

He felt a light touch on his arm, and then Ginny gripped him by his shoulders and turned him to face her. He was surprised to see tears in her eyes. "The people you love don't suffer because of you. You bring happiness to their lives, Harry. The only one who makes them suffer is Voldemort. It's not your fault that you got pulled into all of this, and his actions--and his follower's actions--are not your fault. Everyone has a choice, Harry. Your friends choose to love you because you make their lives better."

Harry gritted his teeth. "You don't understand."

"Oh, don't I?" Ginny blinked the tears out of her eyes. "Do you have any idea what I went through in my first year, Harry? Do you?" Without waiting for a response, she delved into exactly what she had suffered. "I was possessed by Voldemort for nearly nine months. Not all the time, of course, but do you have any idea what it's like to come to and find that you have blood on you, and realize that you killed the school roosters? Do you have any idea what it's like to learn that Voldemort himself has been speaking through you to set a basilisk on your fellow students? Do you know how much I thank my lucky stars every day that no one died? Do you have any idea the fear I experienced, the horror, the guilt?"

"You didn't set the basilisk on anybody, Ginny. Voldemort did," Harry said impatiently.

Ginny nodded in satisfaction. "Exactly."

Harry stared at her for a long moment, finally realizing just what she was trying to get across to him.

"It took me a long time to get over that, and to tell the truth, I still have nightmares about it. During my second year, I didn't have many friends--I had been so distant in my first year, and of course, everyone had heard rumors about what happened to me, so they were odd around me. Even my dormmates kept their distance at first. I don't even write in a diary at all anymore--after that year, I had no desire to write my feelings down on paper, even if that paper wasn't going to talk back. Sometimes, when I start feeling guilty, I have to remind myself that it was Voldemort, not me. But don't you think I felt low and stupid? I wrote in that diary, Harry. No one made me do it. I wrote in it, and I endangered your life, and the lives of the students in the school. I told Tom Riddle's diary about you, and that was what made him try to kill you." She continued to gaze at him sharply. "So don't tell me that I don't understand. I might not have gone through the same things as you, or to the extent that you have, but I understand better than you might think."

Stunned by her tirade, Harry honestly wasn't sure what to say. He had never known Ginny had gone through all that, never really thought about it. He had never realized, that in a strange way, their stories were connected. Both, in some form, had had their lives meddled with and manipulated by Voldemort. Ginny had almost died, because Voldemort was using her life to come back to life himself.

"The thing is, Harry...you won't ever really heal unless you can let it go and move on with life. To realize that what's happened has happened, and you can't change it. The past is in the past--" Ginny gave a wry smile "--at least most of the time. In your case, and in mine, our pasts our behind us. We've made mistakes, and we've regretted those mistakes. We have to live with the consequences of our choices--but Harry...we have to let ourselves live." Releasing his shoulders, she took a step back.

"I..." Harry licked his lips, and finally admitted to himself, as well as to Ginny, "I don't know how to let it go."

"By realizing that you're not the only one who made choices. I had to realize that. Lucius Malfoy chose to slip the diary to me, Tom Riddle chose to possess me, and you...you chose to come and save me." A smile crossed her face, and she continued, "Your mother chose to die for you. Cedric Diggory chose to take the Triwizard Cup, and Sirius chose to come and protect you. You have to accept that the people you love are going to make their own decisions. That day at the Ministry, Ron, Hermione, Neville, Luna and I came with you of our own free wills. We could have died that day, and it wouldn't have been your fault. You can't make our choices for us."

Harry struggled with this. He could see what she meant, see that she was right, but...he didn't want his friends to choose to die for him. He didn't want to lose anyone else. He passed a hand over his face. "Sirius died for nothing." His voice was no longer angry, but hoarse and choked.

"No, not for nothing," Ginny said quietly. "He loved you. And something good came out of the Ministry mission, Harry. The rest of the world was alerted to Voldemort's presence. They saw, and they believed. Sirius may not have known it, but he gave the world a chance to defend itself. And as for Jamie's world...well, they've come back to stop it from happening. I have to believe that the future isn't certain, and that while you might have to destroy Voldemort, your future isn't written, either. Not all of it."

Harry swallowed hard. "I...I'll have to think about all this."

Ginny nodded, then offered him a half-smile. "Burdens aren't meant to rest on one person's shoulders alone, you know. That's what friends are for."

Her words brought to mind their conversation by the lake two days ago. Had it really only been two days? It seemed like an eternity. "Is this another one of your friendship lectures?" he asked wryly.

Ginny wrinkled her nose, then laughed. "I didn't mean it to be one." She and Harry stared at each other for a minute, and then she said, "Um...isn't it nearly time for Quidditch practice?"

Harry jumped and looked at his watch. He had forgotten all about it. "We're late!" He pulled the door open. "We'd better hurry into our Quidditch robes."

Ginny stepped past him into the corridor, and Harry grabbed her arm to stop her. "Ginny," he said hesitantly. "Um...thanks. I really will think about what you said."

Ginny smiled at him. "I know. Still friends, then?"

"Yeah," Harry said, half-smiling. "Still friends."

He hurried back to Gryffindor Tower with Ginny in silence, but this time, the quiet wasn't awkward. He hoped that Ginny was right about their future not being completely written. Jamie Potter was here, in this time, and she would always be...but that didn't mean that he and Ginny would had to have a daughter in this timeline, right?

Just friends, he thought, glancing at Ginny.

As Ginny gave the password to the Fat Lady, Harry realized that all of the things that had been weighing him down for many months seemed lighter, and he remembered Ginny's words. "Burdens aren't meant to rest on one person's shoulders alone, you know."

He stepped into the common room and watched Ginny dash up to the girls' dormitories. Something strange twisted in his chest, but before he had time to dwell on it, he was again brought to mind why he was here: he needed to get dressed and get to the Quidditch pitch. Some captain he was, if he showed up last.

He ran up to his empty dormitory and quickly changed.