He Was Supposed To Live

Ginny stood, tears flowing down her face in mighty torrents. How could this have happened? She didn't understand. It wasn't supposed to end like this! He was supposed to win! He was supposed to be celebrating in the common room with his two best friends over the long-earned victory! He was supposed to be happy and get on with his life, never again suffering! He was supposed to live!

But he didn't.

Instead, he lay on the ground, covered in blood. Instead, his famous scar was torn open so much that his skull was visible beneath. Instead, his body was mangled and broken, beyond repair.

Instead... he was dead.

Ginny fell to her knees and pulled him to her. Her arms wrapped around his still form, holding him as if she could pull him back from the abyss. She cradled him gently and looked down into his once gleaming emerald eyes. Closing them lightly with her fingertips, she remembered.

* * *

Those shining, emerald eyes of his hardened. Ginny suddenly knew what he was going to do. Throwing herself onto him, she began to beg as if her life depended on it. And in a way... it did.

"Harry, no! You can't!" she cried, wrapping her arms around him tightly. He pried himself from her, then held her at arm's length, looking deeply into her brown eyes.

"I have to. It has to stop here, I can't let him hurt anyone else I love," he answered, looking sad. "He could hurt you."

"I don't care! Harry, it doesn't matter if he hurts me! You just can't face off with him now. What if you get hurt? You're the one he's after!"

"Exactly." His continence hardened again. "I'm the one he's after. That's why I have to deal with him now. I'll never forgive myself if anyone get hurts at my expense."

"Harry, you don't understand!" Ginny once more threw herself at Harry, hugging him so tightly he couldn't escape. "He'll kill you! We can't let that happen! We'd all gladly die for you, much less get hurt! We can heal. You can't come back from the dead!" She sobbed openly, drenching the front of his robes with her tears. "Harry, we need you," she said softly.

"Ginny..." Harry put a finger under her chin and gently lifted her head to meet her eyes. "You don't need me. Even if I die, you'll all get on with your lives. Voldemort will be gone, and no one else will suffer at his hands. You'll finally get over me and find yourself the man you deserve. Ron and Hermione will finally be able to love each other without fear of ruining our friendship. Those who have worked so hard will finally get the glory they deserve. People such as you and Ron, who have always been in my shadow. The world will keep turning. The world doesn't need Harry Potter."

"I need you," she whispered. "Harry, I- I love you. I would die without you."

* * *

When they finally found them, Ginny was still slumped over his body. She was near death herself, having fought her way through wave after wave of Death Eater's to get to Harry's body. The intended rescuers had been looking for Harry, but finding Ginny too was a welcome bonus. When they attempted to pry Harry from Ginny's arms, the redhead held onto him firmly, unwilling to give him up.

"Come on, Ms. Weasley," a medi-wizard coaxed, trying to convince Ginny to release Harry. "We've got to get you both to St. Mungo's. Harry looks pretty bad."

Ginny shook her head furiously. Tears came to her eyes once more. He didn't realize, couldn't tell that it was too late for Harry. She opened her mouth to tell him that Harry was dead, that the love of her life was gone forever, but the words refused to come out. Instead, deep, form-wracking sobs issued forth. A second medi-wizard managed to touch Harry's neck with his fingers and looked up at the first, his face draining of blood.

"H- he's... dead?" His voice was wondering. Ginny felt like slapping him. Harry was dead and he was but amazed? Could he be any more coldhearted?

"How could that be?" The other seemed just as unfeeling. He knelt to get a closer look at Harry.

"Get away from him," Ginny snarled, somehow finding her voice. Both medi-wizards jumped back, shocked. They looked at each other, then back at the rest of the rescue team. A kind-faced medi-witch shoved them both aside.

"Calm down, honey," she said, her voice soothing. "We know that's Harry's..." She stopped, unable to actually vocalize that rest. "That Harry's... gone, but you're in really bad condition. We have to get you to the hospital."

"I don't care!" Ginny whispered, burying her face in Harry's shoulder. "I can't live without him."

"Oh, come on now, sweetie. Would he really have wanted you to die simply because he died?" The witch's voice was soft and held a note of reasoning. Ginny looked up, meeting the woman's eyes. "Wouldn't he have wanted you to live?" Ginny swore she could hear an echo of Harry's voice in that.

* * *

"Ginny, you don't really mean that," Harry murmured, brushing tears from Ginny's cheek.

"Yes I do," she answered, her tone firm. He shook his head at her.

"No you don't," he insisted. "I'm not that important. I'm not worth dieing over."

"Yes you are! Harry, you're everything to me! You're the reason I get up in the morning, knowing you're there to protect me! Knowing you're there to love me! No one else has ever seen me the way you do! Everyone else overlooks me. I'm just Ron and the twins' little sister who has a crush on Harry! But you...you see me as who I am. Not as Ron's little sister to be avoided; not as poor Ginny, who was possessed by Voldemort; not as the crazed Harry Potter fan; but as Ginny Weasley, blossoming teenager, and the woman you love. Harry, I couldn't possibly live without you!"

"Ginny..." Harry ran a hand through Ginny's red locks, looking deep into her eyes. Then, he kissed her. "Ginny, if I ever die... I want you to live."

* * *

Ginny felt numb as she lay on the hospital bed at St Mungo's. Many visitors had streamed through since that day. Dumbledore had stopped by to commend her on her bravery, and on the recovery of Harry's body. His funeral was today, Dumbledore told her. If she were to come, she would be welcome to speak on her love for him. Ron and Hermione had visited, the former finally healed from the hexes inflicted on him prior to Harry's death. Ron still blamed himself, for it had been his injury that made Harry confront Voldemort. Mr. And Mrs. Weasley had also visited. Mrs. Weasley had spent the whole time hugging Ginny tightly and crying for her daughter's pain.

Whoever came though, Ginny remained silent. She couldn't bear the hole in her heart. Harry was dead. Her reason for living was gone. What was she to do without him? She would never love another as she'd loved Harry. And with him gone, she'd never be happy again. There was no longer a reason to get out of bed. At least not after today. Today, there was a reason.

To the shock of the nurses, Ginny rose from the sterile bed this morning, clothed herself, and left her room. She forced herself all the way to the funeral home, where the world would see its final glimpse at the Boy-Who-Lived. When she walked through the double doors of the funeral home, all talking suddenly ceased. The building was in complete silence as Ginny strode up to Harry's coffin.

He looked so peaceful. He lay there, dressed in emerald green robes to match his closed eyes, and his hands around the hilt of the Gryffindor sword, which lay upon his still chest. It was fitting. His form was clean of any blood, and his scar closed once more. Ginny reached a trembling hand to brush wild black bangs away from his forehead, and tears fell from her eyes for the first time since the rescue team had discovered her. It wasn't supposed to end this way.

Ginny came to her decision before she even realized there was a decision to make. With a sudden movement, she tore the Gryffindor sword from Harry's cold hands. And even as every witch and wizard in the room moved to stop her, she plunged it into her heart. It was over.