He Was Supposed To Live

Chapter 1

    For the first time in his life, Harry felt truly peaceful. He was alone somewhere he could not name, with nothing to disturb him. No Dark Lord to chase after, or to chase after him; no psycho caretakers to run from and escape from; no Muggle relatives to annoy and vex him; nothing but peace and quiet. He floated along, unaware of any sense of time or self. Harry felt a kind of euphoria settle over him, and ran his hands through his hair… only to find that he had neither hands nor hair. What? What was going on?

    Harry didn’t understand. Where had his hands and hair gone? Where had his body gotten to? Was he having an out of body experience or was he… Wait a minute. What was the last thing he remembered?

    Ron… As Ron’s freckled face swam into view, Harry remembered that Ron had been hurt. Hurt? By whom? Slitted red eyes and spider like hands came to mind; Voldemort. Voldemort had hurt Ron. A snatch of memory floated by. Harry had gone to kill Voldemort once and for all… but someone had objected. There had been someone who said that they’d die if something happened to Harry. It had been someone Harry loved, someone very close, but the name refused to present itself. Gorgeous red hair, deep brown eyes, beautiful form; Ginny!

    Harry felt a sudden jerk at Ginny’s name. His heart wrenched and he felt as if someone had stabbed him in the chest. Something was wrong. Harry felt it in his very being. Ginny was hurt.

    The parade of memory continued past Harry. With a passionate kiss and a few last words, he’d left Ginny. He’d gone after Voldemort and… he’d killed the Dark Lord, but something else important had happened. Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on it… his nonexistent finger…

    Harry was dead! That’s why he had no body! He wasn’t having an out of body experience; he was dead! He and Voldemort had killed each other, and Ginny was alone! Ginny had told him that she’d die without him… Oh no.

    As he thought of Ginny, Harry felt something wrench at him. He was jerked and tugged along, as though he was attached to some string and someone was pulling him along. Blackness zoomed past him, and quickly disappeared, only to be replaced by a chaos-filled room. Witches and wizards scrambled about in a frantic sort of way. Harry felt a pain where his heart should have been. Now what was going on?

    “Ginny!” a voice screamed. Harry whipped his imagined head around to see the source of the shout. Ron was standing by Hermione, a terrified look on his face. Hermione held tight to his arm, but the redhead ripped himself from her grip and tore through the throng of people before him, right past Harry. Following him, Harry saw a horrifying scene. Slumped against an open casket-his open casket- was Ginny; a familiar sword plunged deep into her chest.

    “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!”

* * * * *

    The room dissolved into a hazy world of pain. Although people screamed and rushed to her, Ginny took no notice. No, she only had eyes for the still boy lying peacefully beneath her. Her eyes half-slitted, Ginny moved her hand weakly from the hilt of the sword and placed it against his cold cheek.

    “I love you…” she murmured. “And I’m coming to join you.” Maybe he would hear. Maybe she could reach across the abyss of death to him and he would know that she would always be with him. But even as she whispered the words to his still form, Ginny heard his voice.

    “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!” she heard him scream. She knew it was he, for she knew his voice by heart. Always before, his voice had warmed her and made her feel loved. Now though, it cut through her heart like the sword even now imbedded in her chest. As someone pulled her up and she felt a spell surround her firmly, Ginny looked through the crowd. Ron’s horrified face greeted her, but behind him…

    “Harry…” she whispered. He was here… but how?

    “No, Ginny… Ginny, it’s me, Ron,” her brother said in a worried tone. “Ginny, why’d you do that? We already lost Harry, we can’t lose you too!” Ron cupped her face in his hands and looked straight into her eyes, tears falling from his own. Ginny tried to shake her head at him, but everything had begun to turn black.

    “No, Harry.” She tried to lift her arm and point to the shimmering form of her love, standing behind Ron and looking distraught, but she was too weak.

* * * * *

    Harry followed Ron as he rushed to Ginny. When Ron pulled the girl up, she looked around wonderingly, and her eyes stopped on him. Her voice was far too weak for him to make out clearly, but he could have sworn that she said his name. Ron whispered to her, and as Hermione caught up with the red haired boy, Harry could see tears fall from his best friend’s eyes. A second later, when Ginny passed out and several medi-witches converged upon her, Ron turned and Hermione wrapped her arms around him, whispering comfortingly to him. Harry had been right; Ron and Hermione had let themselves acknowledge their feelings for each other now that Harry was gone. The world really was better off without him. Before he could let himself dwell too much on that though, the medi-witches Disapparated with Ginny, and Harry once again felt the imaginary string pull him along until he arrived at St. Mungo’s at the same time Ginny and the medi-witches did. Ginny must be the reason he was still here.

    As the medi-witches began to work over Ginny, all Harry could do was watch. If he had still been in his body, he would have cried. The medi-witches tossed medical terms back and forth to each other, and none of them sounded promising. They were unable to stop her bleeding for some time, and when they finally did, she had lost a lot of blood. One of the witches was sent out to her family to ask if any were willing to give blood for Ginny. The sword had very nearly missed Ginny’s heart. A few centimeters to the right and it would have pierced the vital organ, causing a fatal wound. As it was, the medi-witches had to work furiously to mend the internal injuries. When the witch who’d been sent out returned, she had Percy and the twins in tow. It was going to take a lot of blood to heal Ginny, and it would be too much to take from one person.

    Harry finally decided that to sit and watch Percy, Fred, and George get cut up was too much, and he floated straight through the door and down the corridor to where he knew the waiting room was. He had been here enough times since Voldemort had risen. Had it really been only three years ago when Cedric had died and Harry had seen Voldemort rise? It seemed like so much longer than that. Harry brushed those thoughts away as he neared the waiting room. Through the door, he could hear Ron arguing.

    “Why wouldn’t they let me help?” Ron was saying, his voice vehement. Harry floated through the door to see Ron standing and look furious, while Hermione tried to pull him down and the other Weasleys looked away.

    “Ron, calm down. You’re not allowed to give blood because you lost so much when Wormtail attacked you, remember?” Hermione said soothingly. She grasped his arm and forced him to sit. Harry flinched, remembering the state Ron had been in after the attack. Harry had rushed to St. Mungo’s the moment he heard Ron had been attacked, only to find his best friend had been hexed so much that through the boils, blood, and other various inflictions, he could hardly be recognized. That sight had spurred Harry into action against Voldemort, and had fueled him to kill the Dark Lord once and for all. For now, Harry painfully pushed the image aside and focused his mind on the present.

    “But I’m fine now! She’s my sister! I have to do something to help her!” Ron tried to stand again, but Hermione increased her grip on his arm.

    “Ron, Percy and the twins-” Charlie began to say, but Ron interrupted him before he could go any further.

    “Percy has never been very close to Ginny! Not like I am! And the twins have never let her alone about her crush on Harry! None of them have the right to-”

    “Ron, you git! Just shut up,” Harry moaned.

    “Ron, you git! Just shut up,” Hermione groaned at the same time. Harry looked at her surprised, and she looked surprised at herself. She put a hand to her mouth and looked around the room.

    “Hermione!” Harry exclaimed, coming close to her. Had she heard him?

    “Harry?” the girl whispered, letting go of Ron and extending her arms forward. Ron looked at her like she was crazy, but she ignored him. Her eyes took on a possessed look and Harry reached forward, hands suddenly forming on his wispy spirit-like form. Those hands grasped Hermione’s extended ones and her eyes sparked. “Harry!”

    “Hermione, can you see me?” Harry asked guardedly. She nodded vigorously.

    “How?” she asked simply. “You’re dead…”

    “I suppose I am. But no one else can see me. And I’m somehow connected to Ginny…” Hermione let go of his hands and felt around him. As she did so, a body began to form under her fingers, just as his hands had formed when he’d touched Hermione. He was wearing the jeans and sweater he’d worn to confront Voldemort, but there were no rips and tears on them at all. His body was perfectly intact, barring the fact that it was transparent and didn’t really exist.

    “Wow…” Hermione whispered. Harry looked away from her at the rest of the room. Maybe, if Hermione could see him, then the Weasleys could also. From the looks they were giving Hermione though, they probably couldn’t see him.

    “Hermione,” Harry murmured. “The others can’t see me.”

    “They can’t?” She looked up and at the others; taking in the crazy looks they were giving her. “Harry’s here!” she told them, her voice defensive. All five Weasley nodded in a way that said they clearly thought her crazy.

    “Sure he is, Mione…” Ron answered in a humoring tone. Hermione and Harry both raised an eyebrow at him, and Harry laughed when he noticed they’d done the same thing.

    “Stop that, I can tell you don’t believe me! He’s said that no one else can see him,” she asserted. Ron exchanged glances with his family.

    “No, no we can see him, dear. Really…” Molly Weasley insisted. Harry rolled his eyes.

    “Hermione, ask her that if she can see me, what am I doing?” Harry told her. Then he walked over to Mrs. Weasley, stuck his fingers in her ears, and waggled his tongue. Hermione snorted, but relayed the question. Mrs. Weasley looked slightly put off and stalled for an answer.

    “He’s standing behind you with his fingers in your ears and waggling his tongue,” Hermione told Mrs. Weasley imperiously.

    “Oh, er… I knew that, of course,” the matriarch stammered. Hermione shook her frizzy head and rolled her eyes. Beside Mrs. Weasley, Harry noticed Ron nod at Bill, then the eldest Weasley son took his wand from his pocket and quietly mutter a spell. Harry pursed his lips.

    “Hermione, Bill’s called the doctor. They must think you’ve gone mad from despair,” he told her. “Just forget about it for now.”

    “I will not forget about it!” The girl’s tone rose in such a way that Harry knew to expect one of her hissy fits any moment now. “You know you’re there, I know you’re there, why should I back down! There’s absolutely no reason for them not to believe me!” Hermione was on her feet, advancing steadily toward Harry. Forgetting that he was already dead and she couldn’t harm him, Harry backed away as surely as if he was facing the Dark Lord himself. “I am not mad! I’m perfectly sane! Why would they think me mad?”

    “Do- do you really want me to answer that, Mione?” Harry asked meekly. The witch’s eyes sparked and she moved as if to leap at him, but Ron grabbed her at that exact moment.

    “Mione, sweetie, we know that Harry’s death has been hard to take, but…” Tears shined in Ron’s eyes for the second time that night, but he pushed them back in order to deal with the struggling brunette in his arms. “But there’s nothing else for it.”

    “What do you mean, there’s nothing else for it!” she raged, trying to free herself from Ron’s grip. “He’s right there, standing in front of you as plain as day! And since you can’t see him, he’s obviously not dead, because everyone can see ghosts! He can’t be dead Ron! He just can’t!” Her struggles ceased somewhat as Harry saw a telltale glint in her eyes. Ron turned her around to face him and she immediately buried her face in his chest, sobs coming from deep in her throat.

    “It’s okay, I’m here,” the redhead whispered, stroking her head softly. “Shh, we’ll get through this. Together we’ll get through this.” Ron wrapped strong arms around Hermione and kissed her head gently. Harry, as well as the other Weasleys, found something else to look at, rather than intrude the private moment. For several minutes, Ron whispered quietly to Hermione, rubbing her arms and stroking her hair. Then, Mr. Weasley looked out the waiting room door and nodded meaningfully at Ron. A moment later, a medi-wizard came through the door holding a cup filled with a dark fluid. Harry immediately recognized it as a draft of Dreamless Sleep Potion, for he’d had to rely on it many times. Ron extended an arm and took the cup, then looked down lovingly at Hermione. “Sweetheart, you realize that you’re sick and need help, right?”

    Harry almost snickered. Ron had been doing splendidly up until then, but his ignorance when it came to Hermione shined through brightly when he said those words. Telling Hermione Granger that she was sick and needed help was one of the least brightest things Ron could possibly do. Any moment now… True to form, Hermione suddenly pulled away from Ron as if he were Draco Malfoy. Fire blazed in her eyes as she looked at him with a cool and calculating stare.

    “I’m sick and need help?” she repeated, emphasizing each syllable. “I’m sick and need help? I’m sick and need help! Ronald Weasley, have you got another thing coming to you! I am most definitely not sick, and the only help I need is therapy for crying to you, you insensitive prat! How dare you?” Hermione was yelling now, nearly at the top of her lungs. “Just because I see Harry standing right there-” she pointed to Harry, who was now stifling laughter at Ron’s foul up, “-doesn’t mean I’m sick and need help! It means that I have the insight to know that something is wrong here, and you’re too moronic to notice your best friend in the world that’s just ‘died!’ Harry’s not really dead and Ginny has somehow brought him back! Now, I’m leaving to find a way to help Harry, and you can’t stop-”

    “Stupefy!” Hermione didn’t even get to finish her sentence. A pained look in his eye, Ron had drawn his wand on her. The medi-wizard who’d given Ron the useless Sleeping Potion caught Hermione’s limp form and immediately levitated her. He frowned at the Weasleys.

    “We’ll get her sorted out,” was all he said before he left Hermione in tow. Ron gazed after her with a face that suggested he would break out in tears any moment. Mrs. Weasley suddenly left her spot by her husband’s side and bustled over to her youngest son.

    “Why…” he whispered as he let his mother engulf him in a hug. “First Harry… then Ginny… now Hermione? Why?” Harry growled to himself, frustrated. Before he could advance on mother and son though, he felt himself jerked away. Ginny!