Alone

    Harry sits gingerly on the bed of the fifth seedy motel they've stayed in since setting out. It is a bit disgusting, but Hermione had pointed out (and they had all agreed) that they would be less likely to attract undue attention if they stayed at…less than luxurious… (or sanitary, even) places. Even so, he probably would not be able to stand it if it were not for Ron and Hermione. And Ginny, of course.

    Ginny. She'd approached him over the summer, insisting on knowing, as she put it, "What the hell is it exactly that you're planning on doing without me?" He hadn't wanted to tell her--all right, he had wanted to very much, but he'd known that every bit of knowledge she had would increase the danger she was in, and he'd said so. But Ginny hadn't stood for that stance, and eventually, she'd pretty much forced him to tell her. Then she'd insisted on coming with him.

    With her, Ron, and Hermione along, Harry has found a new sense of normality. Normal is no longer Hogwarts and classes and the knowledge (blinking back tears) that Dumbledore was around to protect them. Normal had become relentless searching for clues, trekking the land by day, checking into dirty motels by night; kissing Ginny (no time for anything more) and trying (rather unsubtly, it must be admitted) to get Ron and Hermione together. It is not a perfect life, by any means, but it is a necessary one.

    And it is worth it, both for the means to work towards Voldemort's defeat, and for…other things. One of them is coming out of the bathroom now, holding one none-too-clean towel around her body. He leans forward and kisses Ginny lightly on the lips. When they break apart, Harry notices that she looks pensive, almost distant.

    "What's wrong?"

    "What? Oh, nothing," says Ginny quickly, biting her lip. "Just thinking, that's all."

    Harry raises his eyebrows.

    "It's nothing," she insists, giving him a reassuring smile. "Really. Here--" Their lips meet again, and for a moment, Harry forgets all his worries. He pulls her in closer, deepening the kiss--

    "Oi! Not in public!" To Harry's great surprise, Ginny makes no retort to Ron's comment.

    "It's your turn," she says quietly, gathering up the towel she's dropped. She doesn't look at him.

***

    Ginny becomes increasingly distant over the next couple of weeks. Often, she will not meet Harry's eyes, and sometimes, she looks at him, then quickly glances away, biting her lip.

***

    "Harry." Ginny swallows. "Could you come with me?"

    He follows her out of the hotel, down two blocks and into a rather dingy restaurant. As they sat down, he asks, "Ginny, is there something wrong?"

    She swallows again. "Harry," she says, "I don't think we should--be together anymore. It just doesn't feel right--and I don't really think we understand each other--"

    "Ginny--"

    "I mean," she babbles on, "what do we know about each other? I--I think that it would be best if we--ended it. I mean, I still care about you, and I hope we can be--friends, but I just don't think we should be--together anymore," she finished, looking broken.

    Harry can not speak. He simply sits there, stunned. Something in his chest has constricted painfully.

    "If you--want me to leave--go back to the Burrow, or Hogwarts--I can do that," says Ginny haltingly. "I mean, I'll understand--if you don't want to see me anymore--"

    "Yes. Please. Leave." Harry sounds harsher than he had intended, but he doesn't care. He catches a glimpse of Ginny's tearstained face before she walks away.

***

    "Where's Ginny, Harry?"

    "She wanted to go back to the Burrow," Harry mumbles. "I told her to leave."

    "That doesn't sound like Ginny," Hermione says tentatively.

    He shrugs. "C'mon," he says roughly. "Let's go."

***

    The next few weeks pass in a blur. Harry keeps moving, keeps working, keeps searching, immersing himself in his task, trying to push thoughts of Ginny to the back of his mind. Ron and Hermione trail in his wake. He can tell that they suspect something is wrong, but they do not press him. He does not talk to them much anymore. The fragile sense of equilibrium that existed before has been torn into pieces, and he does not want any reminders of what has gone horribly wrong.

    "I don't think we should be together anymore. It just doesn't feel right."

    He scowls and walks on. He keeps moving, keeps working, keeps searching, until night falls and he climbs into bed, crying silent tears into his pillow.

***

    "Did you miss us, widdle baby Potter?" Bellatrix Lestrange laughs, a high, cruel laugh. Ten Death Eaters surround him, Ron and Hermione. Harry panics. Oh no, not Ron and Hermione, not them, anything but that-- He draws his wand.

    "Avada Kedavra!" Thankfully, Ron ducks.

    "Incendio!"

    "Protego!" He sees, with a sigh of relief, that Ron and Hermione have drawn their wands.

    "Stupefy!" He ducks the curse that Lestrange has sent at him (evidently, she still thinks to capture him for her 'master'). The battle rages on, and Harry is forced to let Ron and Hermione fend for themselves.

    "Expelliarmus!" he cries, and a Death Eater's wand comes sailing into his hand. He snaps it in two. Two more fall by his hand, and one by Hermione's. The Death Eaters have no time to revive their fallen comrades. There are seven…then five…then three…then two.

    "Suffoco!" Ron falls to the ground, gasping. Harry goes cold all over. No, please God no…

    "Suffoco!" Hermione's face is contorted with anger as she fires at the Death Eater who cursed Ron. When the spell reaches its target, she stands there, as if stunned--

    Making her an ideal target for Bellatrix Lestrange. "Atra minuo!"

    "Hermione, look out!" Harry runs toward her, but he is not quick enough. Blood begins to trickle down her arm--faster and faster--then the other arm opens--

    Harry can not bear to watch anymore. His world is collapsing, and he turns to face the one responsible for it. Her laugh echoes in his ears until he cannot take it anymore. "Avada Kedavra!" She dies like Sirius, with a laugh on her face, and the irony is not lost on Harry. Exhausted though he is, he runs towards Ron, who has turned a violent shade of purple. "Finite Incantatum." Slowly, he gathers up Ron, then races toward Hermione. Both her arms have sizable wounds, and one is beginning to open up on her neck. "Finite Incantatum!" The bleeding does not stop.

    "Sano," Hermione says faintly. "Touch your wand…to me…and say…Sano."

    "Sano." To Harry's relief, the wounds close up. They need medical attention--if I go to St. Mungo's there'll be awkward questions--Hogwarts! As much as he dreads going back (what would it be like without Dumbledore?), he could not think of anywhere else to go. "Hermione, could you stand up for a second?" She tries to get to her feet, then collapses. He catches her. "That's good," he says, leading her over to Ron. He picks up the boy's body while trying to support Hermione--not an easy task. "Could you help hold on to Ron, Hermione?"

    "Yes…"

    "All right. Now we're going to Apparate."

    "Don't think…we should Apparate…"

    "I'll help you." Harry is not feeling anything, cannot afford to feel anything, cannot afford to feel pain. "Now just hold onto my arm…" He concentrates desperately on the gates of Hogwarts, stepping into the all-too-familiar feeling of compression, and when he opens his eyes, he is there. How to get in… The gates are unsurprisingly chained shut as before. As before…might as well try it. Carefully he sets down Ron and says, with some trepidation, "Expecto Patronum," willing it to find someone, anyone.

    A silver phoenix bursts out of the tip of his wand and takes flight. Harry stands there for what seems like hours…What if they're dead, what if I'm too late, I should have never let them come with me, this is all my fault…

    It is Hagrid who comes for them. "Blimey, Harry, whatcha doin' here now?"

    "Hagrid, it's Ron and Hermione, they're hurt, they need help--"

    Hagrid picks up Ron from where he lies. "Yer Patronus is different, innit? Normally, I'd be suspicious, but I don' think a Death Eater would have that kind of 'er form…" They began their silent trek up to the castle. About halfway through, Hagrid admonished, "Yeh shouldn't 've left, Harry. Everyone was worried about yeh." It is not intended to be an accusation, but it feels like one. He remains silent.

    As they walk through the castle, Harry is struck by how different Hogwarts seems; the cheerfulness that pervaded the school seems to have gone. Every student looks older, worn. Hogwarts was the first place he had felt at home, but now he is the proverbial fish out of water as he moves through the halls, attracting gaping stares.

    They reach the hospital wing all too slowly. Not until he at last relinquishes his hold on Hermione does he realize how very tired he is. Madam Pomfrey attempts to force him into a bed, and for once he does not protest.

***

    Several days have passed. Ron is recovering slowly, Hermione still more so. She would not be alive if it were not for magic, and the thought chills Harry to the bone. If I hadn't let them come with me…

    His quarters are in Gryffindor Tower, but he prefers to wander the halls. The memories of his House are too painful. He sleeps in the Room of Requirement, and he visits Ron and Hermione every day. He is not the only one. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley have visited (he made sure to stay away from that one) and also Bill and the twins. Lavender has come once; not the gossiping girl he remembers, but a Lavender wiser and more mature. War takes its toll on everyone, it seems. Neville and Luna also visit regularly, and they fill him in on what has happened since he left. The fight is not going well, and the knowledge of this weighs on him heavily. It is, after all, he thinks bitterly, his war.

    Ginny comes too, almost every day. He doesn't talk to her.

***

    Ron has mostly recovered, and Hermione is doing well. Harry, in his mind, breathes a sigh of relief. He has told them that they will set out once she has recuperated completely.

    Secretly, though, he packs his bags. This time, he will have to go it alone.