Author's notes: I haven't been able to wrap my head around Digimon lately, for reasons that I don't think anyone's interested in listening to. Anyways, I figured a little one shot might serve as a nice distraction from the knowledge that I have a lot of readers angrily assembling in an abandoned weapons warehouse as we speak. ...I hope I'm kidding. Anyways, this isn't really an original idea; this is just the part after Harry "died" in HP7 from Ginny's perspective. I haven't read the book in a while, so some things in my brain might be a little out of order. For that reason, I kept dialogue and details of anything outside of Ginny's brain to a minimum. Anyways, enjoy, I guess. I'm a morbid child, and listening to Carrie Underwood's Just a Dream, if that explains anything.


Gasping for breath, Ginny wasn't sure if she was winded from the battle or from shock. Fear rolled over her in waves for the first time; she hadn't been afraid when she had sneaked back through to the Room of Requirement and dived into battle despite everyone's insistence that she return home. She had been worried for her family, and for Harry, but she hadn't really been afraid. This battle, an all-out war, had been a long time coming. She had been a part of it from the very beginning; why shouldn't she be there for the final show down?

No. No, no, no, no, nonononononono NO!

Her thoughts were incoherent, running together like melted ice cream dripping from the cone. But her thoughts weren't sweet and frosty, but hot and delirious with fear and denial. She didn't care, she didn't care what He said about the matter. Harry wasn't dead. He couldn't be. She'd have known, somehow... she would have...

Some small part of her, some voice in the back of her head that was cold and rational and sounded much too much like a twisted combination of Percy and her mother, told her to quit being stupid. She didn't have time to fall apart, she didn't have time to sniffle and shake her head and stomp her foot in an elementary temper tantrum. This was a battle. This was a war, and they were soldiers armed with wands and their minds. There were still Death Eaters firing spells away, although several had paused to watch their Dark Lord enter the clearing. Many bodies litered the ground, victims on both sides. Ginny couldn't afford to be another, even if Harry... Harry...

He couldn't be dead!

She thought it with such force that she thought she might have screamed it, but maybe not. No one looked at her; all eyes were on the body lying limp in a sobbing Hagrid's arms. She didn't understand what was going on. It was like her ears were water logged, worse than they had ever been. She couldn't hear properly; maybe someone had told her to be quiet, and she hadn't been able to hear. She could see V-Voldemorte talking, she could see that his lips were moving and he looked more inhuman in the moonlight that bathed the battle in an otherworldly light. But she couldn't hear him. His words didn't mean anything to her, useless sound that was trying distract her from something more important, something she needed to focus on.

In books, soul mates always know everything about the other. They know that they're angry when they're smiling, where they might have gone when they ran away, and whether... whether the other died. Ginny didn't know if it was true, but she wanted it to be. She wanted it more than anything she had ever wanted before -- that wasn't entirely true, because she wanted Harry -- because if it was true that soul mates could sense that ultimate moment, and it was also true that her and Harry were truly in love and meant to be together (which she refused to consider untrue for even a second in that crucial moment), then she should know. She would know. She had to know.

Her confidence faltered, her faith that she would know if it was true or not, the longer she stared. Maybe it was only a couple seconds that she held her silence. Maybe she really had shouted out earlier. Maybe, maybe, maybe... Had she died? Was she dreaming, stuck somewhere in limbo on her way to hell? Because this was hell, this was worse than hell, this was her worst nightmare become reality... She couldn't believe it, she wouldn't, she wouldn't believe it no matter what anyone said or anyone did because Harry Potter could not be dead!

"No..." The word was so quiet, so quiet that possibly no one had heard her. Her breath caught and she blinked back tears and shook her head, determined to pay attention. She would not lose her footing now. She would not betray the Order, she would not fall like their companions. If it was true, if...if it was true that Harry was dead, then she was going to avenge him. She'd die avenging him. She'd die to do anything for him, anything at all. And then, chaos erupted around her as her mind returned to the battle.