Disclaimer: Hmm...don't own the characters or the lyrics. J.K. Rowling and Flyleaf do, respectively.

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There For You

Ginny Weasley did not see herself as partial to emotional breakdowns. After all the things she had been through, you'd think she would have learned to deal with her emotions better. But here she was, and those same emotions she was supposed to have such good control over were running rampant and wild.

"Goodnight, Mum!" she called down the stairs before closing her bedroom door for the night. Hugging herself, she walked over to the small black trunk that was now in her possession. It had once been called "Draco's Trunk," but since its previous owner was no longer here to call it that, Ginny called it nothing. Just the trunk. She kneeled down and pushed the lid up; she never kept the trunk locked. Sitting on top of everything else in the trunk was a journal. Ginny had long since learned not to panic at the sight of the journal-it looked almost exactly like the one possessed by Tom Riddle's memory that had, well, possessed her all those years ago. But it wasn't Riddle's diary.

It was Hermione Granger's.

Ginny took the book and walked back over to the bed with it clutched to her chest. She settled under the covers, and then opened it to the marked page. Ginny had made a promise to herself that one day she would read the entire journal, in memory of her fallen friend. It had taken four months for Ginny to work up the courage to even look at the journal again, much less read it. Now, eight months after Hermione's death, and Ginny had read four months worth of entries. She read one every night before she went to bed. Sometimes (not that she would ever admit it) she talked to Hermione. If she concentrated, she could almost pretend Hermione was talking back.

"January 5, 1997," Ginny read out loud to herself, looking down at the faded words written in delicate script.

I'm worried about Draco. He looks terrible-I know he hasn't slept in weeks. Bags under his eyes. So thin his bones are showing. Even his hair (oh, that glorious hair!) is suffering; it's not so much platinum blonde now as dull yellow. Does anyone else besides me notice these changes in him? What about his so-called friends? Do they even care? Is there anyone in this world who cares about what happens to him? Oh, what a bloody silly question. Of course no one cares about him. Even I can still admit he's not been the kindest of souls I've ever met. But once you get to know him ("There she goes, writing as if she intended someone else to read it," Ginny muttered) he's really not that bad. He did write me a song today, which was surprising as I didn't even know he could write...well, anything. It was so beautiful, yet so hauntingly sad. He said he had written it, envisioning me singing it. When I asked him who I was singing about, he told me I was singing about him. I can admit to you that I cried. Then afterwards we, well, I don't think I really need to write that part down ("Mother of Merlin!" Ginny let out a strangled cry). Well, the other girls are coming in so I'll be leaving. Goodnight.

Ginny closed the book gently, placing her bookmark back inside before she did so. The bookmark she had been using for the past few months was none other than the folded piece of parchment which held Draco's Suicide Song, as she called it. Call her crazy, but she thought it had been kind of fitting. As she did every night, Ginny placed the journal under her pillow-she placed it under her pillow every night and then each morning before she got dressed she would place it back in the trunk.

Unlike most nights, Ginny did not turn over and go to sleep after putting the journal under her pillow. She sat up in bed, staring blankly at the wall but not really seeing it. She was thinking of her best friend-Hermione Granger-who was dead and buried. And why? Because she had fallen in love? Because there had been injustice in the world? As the first few tears slipped down her cheeks Ginny couldn't help but wonder that maybe, if she had been a more attentive friend, Hermione might still be alive. She wanted to tell herself that the very thought was absurd, but was it really? Maybe Hermione had been afraid to talk with Ginny. Afraid she would shun her like Harry or Ron would've. Afraid that she would judge her for falling in love with Draco Malfoy, of all people.

Ginny didn't truly think she would have done any of those things. If Hermione had needed to talk, she would have listened. That's what friends were there for-they helped you through the hard things. Maybe if Draco had been more willing to talk, he would still be alive. Maybe if Hermione had been more willing to talk, she would still be alive. The tears flowed freely now from Ginny's eyes. She wiped them away with the back of her hand but they were just replaced by more.

Ginny wished there was just some way for her to tell Hermione all this. She just wanted Hermione to know that anything she could have ever needed, Ginny could have given her. She wanted her best friend to know that no matter what, Ginny had always been there for her.

And as she cried, her face buried in her hands, the perfect idea came to mind. Not wanting to waste the opportunity, Ginny jumped out of bed, went over to her desk, sat down, and started to write.

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Ginny made the trip to the cemetery in silence. Both Harry and Ron had offered to go with her, but she had declined. This was one trip, one promise, she had to make alone. She Apparated outside the cemetery, and then slowly trudged through the gate. She was almost...apprehensive wasn't the exact word she was looking for, but it was almost an apprehensive feeling that she took with her. She hadn't been to this cemetery for eight months, not since they had buried Hermione.

She knelt in front of the headstone that stood a good ten meters away from Draco's. She made a vow to have the graves moved so that they could rest beside each other. Ginny took a piece of parchment from her coat pocket and unfolded it, laying it on the ground in front of the headstone and putting a rock on it so it wouldn't blow away. "It's really goodbye this time," she whispered, kissing her palm and then pressing her hand against the headstone.

She stood and walked away then, not seeing the nearly-transparent, bushy-haired phantom that smiled as she left. Nor did she see the tall, platinum blonde that held the other's ghostly hand.

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To Hermione:

Sometimes I'm a selfish fake
You're always a true friend
And I don't deserve you
Because I'm not there for you
Please forgive me again

I wanna be there for you
Someone you can come to
I wanna be there for you
It runs deeper than my bones
I wanna be there for you
I wanna be there for you

Because I hear your whispered words
In your masterpiece beautiful
You speak the unspeakable, though
I love you, too

I wanna be there for you
Someone you can come to
I wanna be there for you
And be someone you can come to
The love runs deeper than my bones
And I
I wanna be there for you

Love, Ginny

Fin

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A/N

So I did say this story was finished, but I guess I lied. I dunno...I was listening to the song "There For You" (amazing song by Flyleaf, go listen if you haven't heard it) and this little bit just kind of came to me. I knew if I didn't type it up and post it I'd regret it forever, so I did. And this is what happened. So, review if you enjoyed. I guess you can still review if you didn't. I wrote it for me, anyways.

-Paige