Disclaimer: I do not own Harry POtter
Some nights she thinks of him. She remembers his smile and the way he looked at her. She remembers his courage, and his determination to fight.
He knew what he was getting himself into, yet he never gave up. She pictures the look in his green, green, eyes when Voldemort mocked him.
"The scar on your forehead is a Horcrux."
She can hear that dreaded voice so well. She should. She has heard it in her dreams… her nightmares. Always the same voice… taunting her…
It isn't fair that that voice should come back from the dead to haunt her. But she has long since learnt that life isn't fair. She clutches her pillow, and tries to imagine that she is hugging him. Everyone has moved on, but her. Her brothers are worried sick. Hermione visits everyday, and Ron tries to. Even Percy has put aside his pride and come to see her… to see them.
They feel his absence. They know that he's never going to come back. They miss him too. Her mother cries everyday for him.
But no one knows any better than her.
She has written to him. Long letters; one for each day that she passes without him. She writes his name on the envelope and gives it to Hedwig. Her owl. His owl. Hedwig never returns with it in her beak. Birds know so much more than humans. She wants to know where Hedwig takes the letters. Perhaps she may find him there. In the emptiness beyond the path humans tread. But she never reaches it.
She thinks of the life they could have had. How many times did she imagine him returning triumphant from the Last Battle to sweep her up in his arms, and tell her that they were going to live happily ever after.
Happily ever after doesn't happen in real life.
Instead she pictures herself growing old without him. She knows that she won't die a tragic death – life is too cruel. She pictures herself being lowered into her grave with no one there to weep over her. At least then, she'll be with him.
He was, in a sense, triumphant. He will go down in history books forever. Immortality through the pages. He was the Boy Who Lived. And now he is the boy who sacrificed himself for the wizarding world. They will remember him.
But she will remember him best of all. She will remember how his hair flopped into his eyes. She will remember his broken glasses, his polite smile, his last words.
"Tell Ginny I love her."
How she wishes she were there with him. But she was fighting Death Eaters a way off. She didn't even get the chance to say goodbye.
She remembers Hermione running up to her.
"Harry defeated voldemort!"
"Where's Harry? "
She remembers Hermione's smile slipping off her face.
"He said that he loves you."
By the time she reached him, he had gone.
She looks at her wand.
"Lumos." She whispers yet again. The wand tip flares… then steadily declines in intensity. She cannot understand it. "Lumos." She whispers once more. This time the wand does not light at all.
She lies there in the darkness… alone and remembering.
The next morning, Hermione and Ron find Ginny. She is lying on her sofa, a peaceful smile on her face.
She has found Harry once more.