Lakeside

Four Gryffindors sat in the common room--two boys and two girls. One of the boys, tall, with red hair, sat next to a brown-haired girl on a sofa. They were holding hands. Another girl, with auburn hair and freckles, sat in an armchair. All three of them were staring at the fourth with varying degrees of worry and irritation on their faces.

The object of their worry seemed unaware of their scrutiny. He sat on a couch by himself, right in the center, his head in his hands. Every now and then, he would run his fingers through his tousled black hair and mutter something in the vein of, "It's all my fault."

Finally, Ginny yelled, "All right, Harry, I'm sick of your moping!"

The other three jumped.

Harry looked at her, blinking, a shocked expression on his face. "Wha--?"

"I said I'm SICK of your MOPING!" Ginny screamed, her face reddening. "All you do is sit around all day with a look on your face as if you'd just had to kiss Snape! You don't do your homework, you don't go to Quidditch practice...all you do is sit there and stare into space. For the last frigging time, Harry Potter, IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT!!!"

"It's all my fault, Ginny," Harry said morosely. His brow was furrowed, as it always seemed to be these days. "Voldemort is back, Cedric is dead, Cho committed suicide...your parents are dead, Hermione...your dad's dead, Ginny...and countless others...and it's all my fault."

"No, Harry. Nothing is your fault," Hermione said, patting Harry's shoulder comfortingly, though she looked as if she were struggling not to cry. Her parents had been dead four months, and she had just gotten to the point where she could go an entire day without once crying. Now it looked like she was back to square one again.

Ron put his arms around his girlfriend and pressed her to his chest. "Cry now, love, it's all right," he whispered, stroking her bushy chestnut hair. She balled her hands into fists against his chest, sobbing silently. A tear coursed down Ron's cheeks, and he buried his face in Hermione's hair, his arms wrapped tightly around her.

Harry felt his own eyes tear up at this physical expression of the anguish he believed he had caused his friends. He felt a warm hand on his arm and he looked up into Ginny's brown eyes.

"Harry..." she said, more gently, "none of that was your fault."

"Ginny, I let him come back. And then I failed to kill him--twice."

"You did NOT let him come back, Harry Potter. You fought him with all your strength--and you would have died just as Cedric did, had you not been occupied with bringing Cedric's body back as he requested. Two years ago, you weren't well when you faced him, Harry. Cho had just...died, and you weren't well in body, mind, or spirit. You did very well--after all, you did manage to incapacitate three Death Eaters long enough for Ministry officials to apprehend them."

Harry stared at his best friend's little sister. When had she learned words like "incapacitate" and "apprehend"? When had she...well, grown up?

"And last year?" he whispered. "Give me an excuse for last year, Ginny..."

"I--Harry--" she faltered.

"You can't," he said in a monotone. "You can't," more forcefully. "You can't give me an excuse. I am the reason your father is dead. Don't deny it."

"I wasn't going to," Ginny whispered, looking into Harry's eyes.

He stood up abruptly, school robes swishing around him. "I'm--I have to go."

"What? Harry, where--"

"NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!" he roared at a very surprised Hermione. "I just--I need to be alone. Let me be."

He turned and stomped off through the portrait hole, slamming it shut behind him.

Harry sat by the lake, looking into the water, his mind empty of everything except the same degrading chorus that had been running through his head, sometimes faintly, sometimes so loudly that he could swear someone was holding a stereo up to each ear with the volume turned all the way up. It's all my fault...it's all my fault...it's all MY fault...Mr. Weasley is dead, and it's all my fault...Voldemort is back, and it's all my fault...all my fault...

Tears dripped down his face, but he didn't even notice.

How easy it would be, he thought, if I were to jump in that lake and try to end it all. Now. It'd save everybody a lot of problems... He laughed weakly. The thought wasn't funny, but he laughed anyway. And he kept laughing. Loudly. For long minutes Harry laughed. Finally he calmed down, his energy spent, and found himself lying on the lakeshore, his face inches from the tide line.

What if I just moved...six inches to the right...and plopped my face in the water? Harry raised his head up and contemplated that move. How easy it would be...

"Harry!"

Oh, God. He put his head back down in the sand with a sigh. Won't they leave me alone? Can't they see I'm trying to kill myself here? Another unfunny thought that made him laugh. Strange, but this time the laughter seemed quieter. Like a soft chuckle. Almost like...Malfoy?

Harry turned his head. No, no Malfoy. (The laugher must have been him, then. Odd.) Instead of the pale boy, he saw a tall, tall girl with red hair, coming closer and closer. Or maybe she was only that tall because he was lying on the ground...

Another odd chuckle. Hmmm...if he kept this up he could easily turn into a Malfoy. Harry Malfoy...urgh. Or not. Harry pictured himself with Malfoy's blonde hair and began laughing hysterically, like the first time. He wasn't even aware of the girl's arms around him until he felt her shaking him violently.

"Harry--Harry--oh, Harry, stop laughing--"

He tried, but he couldn't.

Then he felt a red-hot burn on his cheek where the girl had slapped him.

"Hey," he said stupidly, reaching up to touch the white handprint on his reddened cheek.

"Harry, I'm sorry, but that was the only way I could think of to get you to stop laughing." He knew that face. He knew that voice. If he could only place it...

"Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have yelled at you back in the common room, but...oh, you scared us so, Harry! And--"

He remembered all of a sudden. "Ginny?"

"Yes, Harry, it's me, and--what were you doing out here, anyway?" She glanced from him to the water, half a foot away from his face, and her eyes opened wide. "Oh, Harry, no..."

"Ginny, I--"

"Harry, you couldn't. You can't. You're--you're a symbol of hope that the Dark Lord will finally be vanquished for good. If you were to die...we'd just give up. Ron--it'd kill Ron, Harry. You couldn't do that to Ron, could you? To your best friend? And Hermione--what about Hermione? She'd be absolutely--it'd be murdering her, Harry. Would you like to have her death weighing you down too?"

"I wouldn't care," Harry whispered hoarsely. "I'd be dead."

"And what about the rest of our world, Harry Potter? What about all the other witches and wizards who would completely lose hope if you were to die? Some of them--they'd--they'd all go to the Dark Side. I know they would. Harry, if you died, our entire world would die with you. Do you want that to happen?"

"I don't care, Ginny," Harry murmured almost unintelligibly. "All the world cares about me is that I'm some sort of hero. I've saved the world seven times...why should I do it again?"

"Harry..." She grabbed his chin and turned his head to face him. "What about me? What do you think your death would do to me?" Her lips were trembling, but her eyes held defiance and...were those tears?

"Ginny...you...I don't know," Harry confessed. "Ginny..."

"Harry, I would die too. I would kill myself--" She ignored his wince. "Just like Cho did. I would leap into the lake and drown myself, if you died." Tears were streaming down her face now. "Harry, you can't leave me alone."

"Ginny..."

"I love you, Harry Potter," she whispered, bending over and kissing him. He felt her tears dripping down onto his face.

He shoved her away roughly and sat up, hugging his knees, facing away from her, out toward the lake.

"Harry...Harry, look at me." Almost against his will, Harry turned his eyes to her streaming ones.

"I've been waiting six years to tell you that, did you know that? Six long years, Harry Potter. And, having loved you for that long, I am not going to let you die on me, right after I've admitted that I love you. You hear me, Harry Potter? You are not going to die. I won't let you."

"Ginny..." Something was wrong with Harry's voice. He cleared his throat. "Ginny, do you really?"

She smiled a little through her tears. "Yes, Harry, I do."

He leaned over and wrapped his arms around her in a quick hug. "Thanks, Gin. I needed that." He got up, dusted his robes off, and began walking towards the castle.

"So..." The sound of her voice made him turn around. "You're not going to kill yourself, are you, Harry?"

"No, of course not," he said.

"And Harry...do you love me?"

He hesitated, finally saying, "I don't know, Gin. I just don't know."

She bit her lip. "All right, Harry. Friends, right?"

Harry grinned slightly, a shadow of his former self, but it still made Ginny feel much better. He was going to be all right.

"Friends."