Wotcher all! Well, right now I'm suffering a bit of a block for beyond the veil of demise. I know what to write and whats to happen but when I'm actually doing the writing part, I feel sort of strained to write what happens next and the writings not coming out the way I want it too so I'll return with the next chapter when my inspiration decides to end its vacation. I already have a good few pages written.

Anyway, this little fic is very different from what I usually write so I hope it goes okay. This fic will only be two chapters, a short story.


My Faith is Forever

Ginny stumbled sleepily into the kitchen of the burrow, awoken by the alluring smell of bacon and eggs. She could hear her mother scurrying furiously near the stove, bickering with Fred and George whom had incidentally set fire to the curtains of the window overlooking the kitchen sink. Ginny dragged her legs, her bare feet making a lazy pattering sound on the floor as she blinked the sleep from her heavy eyes.

"And what may I ask, would you have done if the entire burrow burned down?!" Shrieked Mrs. Weasley, wagging her spatula at both Fred and George. The twins were gazing warily at the cooking tool, as if afraid that their mother would brandish it upon them, none too gently. Ginny paid them no heed as she slumped down at the table, welcoming the heat of the sunlight warming her slouched back. It was really too early to take pleasure in her brother's misfortune.

"But, Mum!" Fred protested.

"Don't 'But Mum' me, Fred Weasley! If this house burned down, do you know whose money it would be paying off the damages and repairs!? Your joke shop, that's what!" She said, her mouth set so thin that it disappeared. Ginny snorted at the looks of horror that clouded her brother's faces, although she knew very well that her mother would do no such thing.

It really was good to be back at the burrow for the summer, Ginny mused to herself as she waited for her family to stop rowing. It was certainly better than clearing doxy droppings from Grimmauld Place, that much she knew. After fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Ginny was relieved to be returning back home. It was surrounded by the homely, warm atmosphere of the burrow that she and Ron could heal from the perturbing events of the Department of Mysteries. Dumbledore had assured the Weasley family that the new wards protecting Ottery St. Catchpole would indeed protect them from the unfriendly eyes and grasps of Voldemort and his order of Deatheaters.

Unlike Ron, she bore no everlasting marks from that rescue mission, barely two months ago. Her older brother had boarded the Hogwarts express back to Kings Cross in London baring welts that some were never to fade. Whatever that brain had done to him, it certainly made an impression, one that was sure not to be easily forgotten. Their friend, Hermione Granger, also did not come out of the battle unscathed. Even now, Ron cursed the name of Antonin Dolohov.

While all of them were carted back to Hogwarts and straight to the Hospital Wing weary for worse, injured and worn, Ginny knew there was one lone person whom left the war zone of the Ministry, more broken and hurt than her and the others. This person, this man, was returned to Hogwarts, safe and sound, but a part of him had been savagely wrenched away and shattered into smithereens. He bore wounds, salted and unyielding to repair, far from the beckoning of salvation. This boy, the one whom hid his bleeding, was in fact still sleeping upstairs in the bedroom he shared with Ron.

It was good that he had been returned the burrow after spending part of his summer with those horrible muggle relatives of his… Being back here was sure to help him heal her mother had told them. Mind, he hadn't really shown signs of recovering….

Ginny was abruptly shaken from her thoughts when a plate of bacon and sausages were set down on the table before her. The savory smell slithered through the air and embraced her freckle smattered nostrils, making her lunge for the fork nestled beside the plate. Just as the youngest Weasley began to enjoy her home cooked breakfast, Ron came bounding noisily down the stairs into the kitchen. Had they been back at Grimmauld Place, the portrait of Mrs. Black would have awakened from the loud noise of his entry.

Ron mumbled "Lo, Gin…" before sitting himself down at the table with sleepy eyes and running a hand through his tousled red hair. Ginny noticed that Harry was still absent from the table when Hermione joined them a few minutes later with quiet greetings, book in hand. She turned back to Ron, who was conspicuously eyeing the contents on her plate causing her to pull her plate just a little bit closer, and a little bit farther away from his hungry, longing eyes.

"Where's Harry?" She asked him. He shrugged.

"Still in bed, I reckon," Ron said. "I don't think he got much sleep last night, nightmares and all…"

Ginny bit down on her lip, her fork immobile in between her fingers as she glanced up to where the stairs led to the bedrooms on the second floor. Maybe she should go and take him a plate… Hermione seemed to have caught her train of thought because she closed the book that had been obscuring the whole of her face and looked back at her with an expression akin to sympathy.

"I do want to go up to him too, but I'm afraid he'll bite my head off for it. I really am worried about him."

"Eh, let him sleep." Ron replied and then leaned across the kitchen table to snatch a piece of bacon from Ginny's plate.

"Hey, that's mine!" Ginny cried, her fingers stretching forward to grab it back. She fell back in her chair with outrage, however, when Ron crammed it triumphantly in his mouth, grinning madly all the while. Hermione rolled her eyes at him and disappeared behind her book again, mumbling something that sounded like "boys, honestly…"

"Still want it, Gin?" Ron asked, preparing to open his mouth wide to show her the already chewed contents of her bacon. Ginny just rolled her eyes in a manner much like Hermione's and returned her attention back to her own plate with a grumbling of "Don't bother, you great git,". Fred and George then joined them at the table, already wolfing down their warm breakfasts.

"What have we here, George? Bloody nora, surely Hermione can't already be preparing for N.E.W.T. exams, can she?" Fred asked his twin. Hermione looked up at them over the top of her book with dangerously narrowed eyes. Ginny stifled a giggle in her pumpkin juice.

"I think so, Fred… Miss Prefect is most probably worried because she only has a little less than two years left to study for them." George said, his eyes alight with mischief. Ron snorted loudly between a large mouthful of eggs, causing Hermione to round on him with a dark scowl. Ron quickly averted his eyes and hastily stuffed a piece of buttered toast into his mouth to hide his grin.

"You know, Hermione, you should really think about taking a leaf out of our ol' book. We didn't even bother staying for exams and look where we are now!" George drawled proudly, folding his hands behind his red head and leaning back in his chair, while sneaking a hearty wink at his twin. Fred mirrored the action and leaned back in his chair. Fat chance of that ever happening, Ginny snorted to herself as she looked from her brothers to the girl sitting beside Ron.

Hermione simply gazed at them, nonplussed, a sort of pitying look in her chocolate brown eyes.

"You mean, of age, still living with your parents, mooching food off your mother and preying upon young, innocent children with illegal substances that could easily disfigure them limb from limb?..." She said in a long, single breath, hands folded neatly upon the cover of her book.


Hermione was met with a very loud silence at her statement, in which Ron was staring openly at her with his mouth slack, fork frozen halfway to his lips. Ginny looked furiously down at her lap to stop from grinning as the twins sat upright again with very put out, dejected expressions upon their identical faces. The silence was palpable enough to taste in the air. They also failed to notice that Mrs. Weasley was still working by the stove, a smirk playing across her features while she made a noise that sounded suspiciously like "You tell them, Hermione dear, serves them right…"

"Well, when you say it like that, Hermione…" Fred said after a long moment.

"Really, Hermione, you make us out to be some lot of horrible criminals, no offense meant Mundungus…" George said, looking pained. He put a hand over his chest, looking severely wounded while Fred was gazing at the bushy-haired Gryffindor with something akin to mock reproach. Ron, meanwhile, was watching them incredulously, the food on his plate long forgotten and getting cold. Ginny still munched contently away on her breakfast, giving them only half of her attention though. Harry would miss breakfast if he didn't come down soon…

"We really don't look at the products we sell to children as illegal substances… More like innocently stolen potion ingredients handled in a manner neither approved nor allowed by our ever faithful Ministry…" Fred explained innocently, the grin once more on his face. Hermione shook her head and went back to her book, but not before saying,

"But did you also know that if they found out some of the things you use in your products, you would most likely land Mr. Weasley out of work?…" She asked nonchalantly. She then added, "It also doesn't help that he's not exactly on good terms with Fudge and the Ministry…" Fred and George glanced at each other in horror before risking a look at their mother whom had froze at Hermione's cryptic words. Very slowly she turned to look at them, a very dangerous gleam in her eyes.

"Oh, is that true, Hermione dear?..." She asked sweetly in a much too calm voice. The twins audibly gulped. Much to their terror, Hermione nodded promptly.

"So…. So…." Mrs. Weasley whispered softly, her hands on her pudgy hips. Fred and George knew that her calmness was only the thunder before the storm, so very quickly the both of them snatched a few pieces of buttered toast from the stack on the table and made a beeline for the door.

"Blimey! Would you look at the time, George! The shops supposed to open soon!" Fred said a little too loudly, all the while tapping a long finger to the non-existent watch around his wrist.

"Don't listen to Hermione, Mum, she's talking rubbish, she is!" George exclaimed between hurried mouthfuls of toast as he slipped into his robes from the hook by the back door. Mrs. Weasley was started to turn a very formidable red.

"Very unlikely, Mum! Miss Prefect here doesn't have a clue what she's harping on about, she needs to get her facts straight! Right off her bonce, she is! Well we would love to stay and chat, really we would, but business calls!" Fred smiled as he edged carefully through the door, almost tripping on a sneaking garden gnome in the process.

"Successful blokes like yours truly are very busy, Mum, very busy! Mustn't get sidetracked!" George said hurriedly, pulling on Fred to move faster. Meanwhile, Mrs. Weasley was starting to smoke like a stream engine, her fingers somehow having found the wand from her apron.

"Farewell, ol' chums, farewell!" Called Fred before the two disappeared with a double Pop, followed by the mad shriek from Mrs. Weasley. Ginny buried her face exasperatedly in the table as her mother swept through the kitchen, muttering loud threats upon her twin sons, her wand emitting furious red sparks. Ron watched her in wonder for a moment before shaking his head. Hermione was still hidden behind her book, but Ginny knew she was rolling her eyes.

"I don't know how they do it… If it were me, I'd be six feet under already…" Ron said, still shaking his head.

"That's because, though I hate to admit it, they're very clever. They know exactly how to weasel their way out of trouble." She said in a muffled voice. Ron's brow furrowed angrily, most likely from her use of the word 'Weasel', and was just about to say something scathing in remark when a startlingly loud creak came from the stairs. Ginny, Ron and Hermione turned in unison to see Harry enter the kitchen quietly, rubbing a hand through his rumpled jet-black hair. His round, wire rimmed glasses were set crookedly across the bridge of his sharp nose; the green eyes behind them still glazed with sleep. Ginny almost smiled at the boy as she made up a breakfast plate for him from the contents set upon the table. He looked adorable, she thought.

She hastily pushed out that observation.

He sat down across from her without a word.

"Morning, mate, have a good sleep in?" Asked Ron, getting back to his cold food. At this, Ginny felt a swell of pride for her brother at his polite query; for at least he was not forcing Harry to share his feelings with them. But then again, she mused with dread, maybe it was because he was only too thick to actually realize that Harry was still in pain. Yes, now that she thought about it thoroughly, that most likely was the case in the manner… Trust her brother to actually see that his best friend was still mourning, she sighed with pity at his oblivious state. Quite silly of her really to have hoped that Ron noticed the state of his best friend when he alone couldn't notice the affections of the bushy-haired girl sitting beside him. Men are all idiots, she said to herself mentally. I'm never getting married…Too much brain work…

But unlike Ron, Hermione was watching the Boy who lived intelligently, concern storming in her eyes as she waited for him to reply. Ginny noticed that Harry was blatantly ignoring his friend's imploring gaze. Finally he answered,

"Something like that, yeah… Bloody ghoul was making noise in the attic again…" Harry answered softly, before mumbling a quick thanks to Ginny as she handed him his plate. Their fingers met with the exchange, and his stony eyes met hers for a split second before looking away. She unconsciously shivered from where she sat across him. Right, I'm never getting married, she reminded herself.

"Harry, are you feeling alright?" Hermione asked as he began to pick at his food. Ginny almost slapped herself. Honestly, how could someone so smart like Hermione be so entirely thick at the moment, the red head wondered with disbelief.

Meanwhile, Harry looked up from his plate sharply, and she could see a pronounced muscle in his jaw harden noticeably. There was a moment of heavy silence before he said,

"Yes, why wouldn't I be?..." He questioned with a slight rise of his dark eyebrows, an almost dangerous edge bordering his deep voice. Ginny only hoped, as she watched him, that Hermione wouldn't dare answer. Already a dark cloud had drifted menacingly over the kitchen of the burrow and the early, warm atmosphere surrounding her only before had been abruptly evaporated. Ever since arriving to their home in the middle of August, he had been close to imploding like a volcano. Very close…It would only take a few stupid words for him to rise from dormancy and erupt, burning and melting as he did.

Hermione looked as though she was carefully choosing her next words. Her next sentence, however, proved that she hadn't chosen careful enough.

"Well, truthfully, you look sort of fragile…" She said softly. Ginny almost cried right there and then. Bad idea, she yelled silently in a mantra. Harry's eye gave a twitch and he turned his head to a slight angle, his emerald eyes darkening into angry obsidian. Voldemort is going down, Ginny thought mentally, no one could survive receiving a look like that.

"Fragile?... Fragile, am I?..." He asked very slowly, the fork in his hand almost bending with the force of his vice grasp. Hermione opened her mouth to answer but Ron beat her to it, thankfully.

"He's not fragile, Hermione, he's just having a bad time."

Hermione's eyes flashed as she turned away from Harry to face Ron. Harry's anger seemed to have wilted from relief, and he gave a small broken sort of sigh, most obviously glad not to be her main focus any longer.

"Who are you to tell me how he feels, Ron? I was asking Harry, not you!" Hermione snapped.

"Well maybe, Hermione," Ron spat her name, "he doesn't want to share his feelings with you. A bloke's got to keep some secrets to himself, you know..." He retorted, slamming his fork down on the table with more force than necessary.

As the two began to bicker heatedly, Ginny tuned them out and looked up from her plate to gaze at Harry. His breakfast went cold and forgotten as he watched his two best friends argue about him, a sad frown pulling at his lips. There was such a lost, haunted look in his eyes, and it tugged at her heart to see him so.

Ginny Weasley had always had faith in Harry Potter. Ever since she first heard his legend, she had relentlessly believed in him. She had never been quite sure why she had such faith in him, only that it was sure to burn bright forever in the face of his many obstacles. Ginny hoped for all those years that the faith she offered him would eventually lift him above the evil and down that road to triumph… But now… All her faith, all her belief in this one boy, it had been shunned and neglected, left to fester and diminish… She wasn't sure she had that much more faith left to offer him in his time of grief and defeat. And that saddened her greatly. He needed her, he needed to be lent some hope, but how could see keep providing it when it was so often ignored and let cold?

Ginny abruptly lost her appetite with her present thoughts and relented to pushing the remains of her eggs around her plate. When she risked a glance at Harry, she found him doing much the same. They were alike, she mused, in more way than one. As if feeling the weight of her calculating gaze on him, he looked up and met her stare.

Green met with brown, and had she been eleven, Ginny would have surely died. Even now, she didn't turn away. I mean, how could she possibly? Hermione and Ron had long faded from her surroundings and the only thing she came aware of was the pair of forest green orbs staring unblinkingly back at her from across the table, dark and empty. They were frighteningly bare, void of all but poison, hate and despair. The fire had been dimmed…

While they were so alike in person, they were so diverse in essence. He was made up of earth and ash, a lone, stone wall impenetrable from the inside and out. His very soul was tainted, robbed of the innocence he so rightfully born with. This boy, Harry, was the broken soldier. The soldier whom had shed and been ripped of his wings, only left to walk the earth under fading tress and dimmed stars until all that was left of him was completely and utterly wasted.

Her essence, while scared with uncannily similar wounds and having been robbed of her innocence early in life was still diverse from his own. While he was made up of earth and ash, she was consistent of celestial energies and fire, burning all the while with a flame that refused to be doused. Her very spirit was unwilling to be tamed, not when there was an endless sky above. She soared and chased, her wings always flapping tirelessly in hope of netting shooting stars through the open heavens.

She had often hoped she would be the one to shed some of her light upon him, give him back the wings so brutally torn from his back. He needed to fly again…

Harry abruptly ended their connection, tearing his eyes from hers to stare back down at his breakfast. Ginny felt a surge of anger at this. Just when she was reaching out to him, he had pulled away… again… The faith she had just so willingly offered him, set upon a silver platter, had been once more slapped and upturned to the floor. The last vestiges of her faith disappeared, lost to a soul pleading and screaming for deliverance.

Ginny gave a tired, defeated huff and slowly rose from her chair, catching the attention of the three sitting opposite her. Ron and Hermione had finally stopped arguing enough to be reminded of the two other presences at the table.

"I'm going up to my room for a bit, see you all later…" She said, putting her plate in the sink. Ignoring Harry's imploring gaze, she left the kitchen and was welcomed to find early afternoon light already filtering through the windows of the living room on her way to the stairs. Perfect weather for Quidditch, she mused. After all, it was best that she not think about Harry anymore, especially since she had given up on him last year. Ginny had learned that most thoughts of Harry Potter left her both wanting to forget all about him and wanting to delve into the forbidden enigma that was strictly him.

That's what he was… An enigma…An enigma that should most likely be kept that way…

Too bloody misunderstood, she growled to herself.

Ginny winded up the stairs, jumping lithely over the steps that creaked, having mastered the art of stealth from Fred and George over the years. That sort of skill provided aid when sneaking into the kitchen at night for a quick snack.

She had just touched the doorknob of her bedroom when a hand closed tightly around her wrist, immobilizing her from continuing any further. With a startled gasp, she looked up into a sharp, tightened face with large, almond shaped emerald eyes blazing down at her.

"Harry!" She exclaimed in surprise. What was doing here? How did he get there so fast? And why was he staring at her like that?!

"What was all that about down in the kitchen?" He asked her, fingers tight and almost hurtful. Ginny narrowed her eyes, not unlike Mrs. Weasley and looked down at the offending hand closed around her wrist. It was odd, but they burned… Burned like fire branded upon unmarred flesh… Burned like the fire currently blazing and smoldering behind his orbs. Where had that come from? She took in a sharp breath in through her nose before speaking, not entirely trusting her voice.

"First of all, Harry, let go of me… Second of all, what in Merlin's name are you on about?" Ginny asked him furiously. She didn't know why she was so angry all of a sudden. Was it because of his refusal to accept her given faith? Or was it because of the way his fingers felt around her wrist, fervent and torrid? She wasn't sure she liked those feelings very much, not at all. But a distant voice from within reminded her that this was how she had always imagined his touch to feel like…

Shaking away those particular thoughts, she turned up her chin with defiance and met his gaze equally as she waited for him to release her. When he did, she unconsciously glanced at her wrist, as if expecting burn wounds to be left in his heated wake. But, of course, there was nothing.

Ginny gave a little sigh. Her mind was wandering again…

"Are you going to tell me what's going on, Harry? I really don't have the time for this…" She said a little more softly. If she was too loud then Ron would no doubt come crashing unceremoniously up the stairs to see what was going on, and she had the distinct feeling that Harry really didn't need that at the moment. Heck, even she didn't need any of that either at the moment.

Meanwhile, Harry had stepped a little closer in proximity and leaned against the door of her bedroom, arms crossed across his chest as he looked at her from under his tousled black fringe. Ginny felt herself fluster at the sight of him, old thoughts returning with an abrupt flash. This wasn't fair… Not in the least. Not when a boy her age looked like that… Focus, Ginny, focus!

"What was that all about downstairs in the kitchen? You were staring at me funny…" He said at last, his lips tight as his gaze skirted the corridor as if expecting one of the Weasleys to come out and surprise them. The tone of his voice thankfully pushed away all of the other thoughts and brought her back down to reality. She noticed at once that he looked anywhere but at her. That realization alone gave her back all the strength she needed.

"Staring at you funny?" She questioned with a deliberate rise of her eyebrows, "Sorry, didn't realize I was staring at you… Sure it wasn't something on the wall behind you, Harry?" She asked him, crossing her arms much in the fashion as his own. He eyes narrowed into dangerous slits

"Don't be funny with me, Ginevra…" He snapped. At this, the smirk abruptly slipped from her face and was replaced with a scowl. Did he just call her?........ Yes, he did just call you that........ A voice said somewhere from deep inside her head.

She was seeing red… No one… No one dared call her that…

"Don't you ever call me that, Harry… Not if you don't want to be bat bogeyed into next century." Ginny growled. Harry gave an annoyingly long roll of his eyes and looked away.

"Sorry," He replied curtly, most likely not meaning it. "Now can you please answer my question?..."

Ginny looked thoughtful for a moment. What was she to say?... Better the truth than a lie, she said to herself.

But just as she opened her mouth to tell him, Harry was speaking again.

"The way you were staring at me… I don't need your pity, Ginny." He said with a defiant frown. Ginny stared at him for a long minute, thinking about what he had just said. All that downstairs, did he think she was actually pitying him? But, did she? Yes, she felt woeful because he lost another person close to him, but did she pity him?... Not really, she thought. It really wasn't pity she felt for him, but sympathy…

They were totally different meanings, but obviously he couldn't tell the difference between the two. Just like boys, thick as a block of wood, insensitive, and hopelessly impervious to tact. What a complete wart, she thought to herself as she looked on at his broody profile.

"Because, frankly, I have enough pity to deal with from everyone else…" He said, a second later.

"You know, Harry, I do sort of pity you…" She said quietly. At seeing the anger in his eyes grow, she hastily added, "Not in the way you may think…"

He arched a questionable eyebrow.

"Oh? Then, how so?" There was a wry edge to his voice, but it didn't faze her and what she was about to say.

"I pity you, not because you're suffering another loss in your life, but because you can't accept the help, the faith that's being so generously offered to you…" Ginny explained, tracing small circles on the wood of her door, refusing to meet his eye. She couldn't look at him now, not when she was just getting going.

"I'm not sure if you ever realized this, Harry, but I've always believed in you… I've given you my utmost faith, for as long as I could remember, and I'm not the only one. The two people downstairs, you know, your best friends? They've been supporting you ever since day one and right now, you're slapping it back in their faces… And let me tell you something, it hurts… It hurts a lot… And all this time I've had faith in you, it's gone to nothing."

Harry said nothing, his eyes curiously soft.

"Harry…" She whispered his name softly, her forehead dropping down to rest upon his shoulder, her hand coming up to stretch across the smooth plain of his chest where she knew his heart to be. It beat quickly beneath her palm. He was tense beneath her head, and she could feel a lock of his savage jet-black hair tickle at her ear. This was the closest she ever got to him…

"Harry, I've always believed that you could overcome anything, I know you can… But…" At this, Ginny paused. Lifting up her head from his shoulder, she looked into his large green eyes and gave a sad shake of her red haired head.

"But… I don't think I can anymore, Harry… Not when you don't have faith in those around you, or more importantly, have faith in yourself."

And with that, she turned away and proceeded to open the door of her bedroom, Harry standing immobile, his eyes staring unblinkingly at the wall opposite him.

That's how she left him as the door closed shut behind her, and even after few moments came and went, Ginny knew he was still standing there by her door, rooted to the spot, eyes unseeing…

A/N: Well, I hoped you enjoyed that. I'm not sure it came out the way I wanted it too, but I hope its alright nonetheless. Anyway, I will start the second part of this soon, keep in check!

And reviews will of course be most appreciated! :-D