He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not

"I've been thinking, Ginny, about us and about me. And I don't want to have this talk, not with you, but," he paused, "Just know that it's me not you."

He loves me not...

She stood there on the wide porch, a daisy in her hand, shredding the petals, like their conversation: irrevocable. Like the petals thrown to the wind, nothing they said would ever be taken back. Then he smiled.

He loves me...

It was beautiful here in the summer, the flowers in bloom. You wouldn't even know it was a hiding place for the refugees from the War, wouldn't know that people lay dying inside, and that those that weren't dying physically were dying in their hearts of fear. How well the flowers lied, whispering safety and laughter. They had let themselves believe those lies, allowed themselves to feel safe, to find safety and laughter in each others' arms. Sweet memories of the summer, they made her want to cry.

He loves me not...

She saw him in a new light now, a stranger with his face drawn, hair falling into his eyes as always. She longed to reach out and brush it away. It had always been her first instinct with him. But now she couldn't--not after that night. Not after he'd cried for the war and all those that had to die, not even coming to her. Not trusting her with the cross she knew he bore. He had trusted someone else. The silver haired man she had learned long ago to hate. What it was about Draco Malfoy that made Harry trust him, agree to go finish the War with him she didn't know. All she knew was that he wouldn't leave without saying goodbye... maybe for forever.

He looked up at her, green eyes so vivid. She felt that they could see her very soul. Self-consciously she looked away.

"Ginny," he whispered in a broken voice. But all she could hear were the words he had spoken, I've been thinking, Ginny, about us and about me. And I don't want to have this talk, not with you, but, then the awful pause followed by, Just know that it's me not you. And she knew in her heart that he was going to break it off.

Gentle fingers reached for her face, firmly raising her chin, forcing her to look into his eyes. She wondered what he saw in her, if her could read her through her eyes. Looking into his, all she saw was two small girls, distorted and broken by the tears. She felt like her reflection, felt like a broken little girl. Did he see that?

"Oh Ginny, I love you. I really love you."

He loves me...

"I know, Harry, and I love you too." He kissed her softly, innocently, smooth lips closed. She knew this innocence should have disturbed her, but all she could do was to feel him, and to know that they were right, that they were meant to be together. He pulled her too him, holding her so gently. This was why she loved him, because everything about them felt right.

As he ran his fingers through her hair, she felt more than heard his muffled sob.

"Ginny. Sweet, sweet Ginny. How am I supposed to say this?"

He loves me not...

"I'm going to have to go away, tonight. You know I can't hide here forever..." Harry continued on as if he couldn't feel her heart breaking. "No one is going to stop Voldemort, going to end this war unless I go."

"I know, I've seen you with those people, and they'll follow you, they trust you." Ginny spoke through her tears, wondering if her voice really sounded so flat. If she could really be telling him it was alright for him to leave her. "If anyone can end this, and then rebuild our world, it's you."

"That's why I have to go," he said softly, warmly, sounding all too alive and happy. Why wasn't he dying of a broken heart? She knew she was. "But, if I go I have to be able to sacrifice myself without regrets, I can't have a reason to wish I was somewhere else, a reason to make sure I come home safe."

"Is that all I am, something holding you back from being the hero everyone wants you to be? Fine!" She threw the remains of her flower at him, tears streaming down her face. He took a step backwards as the crumpled daisy struck his chest, but she wasn't finished. "You know what? I'm not sorry I yelled, I'm not sorry for anything... I'm not even sorry I loved you." She collapsed against the porch railing, tears streaming down her face.

Over head a trio on broomsticks swooped low, calling out to Harry. So he had no choice but to whisper softly, "Goodbye, Ginny," before he walked away. She watched through tear-blurred eyes as he mounted his broom. And he flew off into the dusky sunset, growing smaller, fading, then gone. She thought she heard him say "I love you," but then again, it could have just been goodbye.

She slowly brushed her hair from her eyes, trying to move--if not on at least forward. Slowly a flower petal drifted down from her copper locks. It reminded her of the childhood rhyme, and she felt her lips shape the words she didn't dare speak:

"He loves me..."