Meh, this one is cool. Not great. I think I'm biased because I'm totally RosexScorpius right now but this one just came to me. You have to review, even if it's only to tell me that this is awful. And, I'm not JKR, I don't own the character or their past but I do own this setting.
"I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you. Goddamnit Harry, I love you. And no matter what you do, no matter what idiotic stunt you pull, I love you. You are not allowed to forget that. You are not; because I love you too damn much to allow you to forget, even for a minute, that you are my everything. I love you, and that has to be enough. I don't know what I'm going to do if that's not enough. I don't know what I'm expected to do if that isn't enough for you. It has to be enough. I love you; I love you with every single fiber of my being. I love you for not just being the Chosen One, I love you for being you, I love you for being the idiot who runs off and does stupid noble things. I love you even though you are a moron. Yeah, you, you're a moron. Who else goes, and after surviving two killing curses, ends up almost dead? You moron. I mean, I thought once the war was over you'd be safe, but no! You had to leave and do some other stupid noble thing. Moron. But, even though you are completely stupid, I love you. I really do. And that has to be enough. Harry, it has to be enough." She was in tears, sobbing and shaking and making absurd demands to his unconscious body. At points she gripped the sheets so tightly that her knuckles turned white and her tendons were plainly visible.
She sat, curled into a chair, clutching him, clutching herself, holding on for dear life because if she let go, well, she didn't know what would happen if she let go. It was as if his almost lifeless corpse was a life preserver, the only method of salvation available to her, as if she was in the middle of a desolate ocean and he was there, and he'd keep her safe. She gripped, and clutched, and held on to him, frantically trying to loan him the heartbeats her heart had yet to use, to give him the warm blood from her veins. She held him in such plain desperation that it was heart breaking for others to even come near the pair. She held him and cried, cried because he wasn't holding her back.
"Harry, Harry please, please say something. Say you love me. Please?" She whispered to the pale body of the boy she loved. She had always faced the reality of his profession, that he could get hurt at any time, but she still wasn't ready now that the unspeakable horror was actually happening to him, to her. She always read about how true soul mates had a connection, one that couldn't be explained, tested, faked. They just knew how their other half felt, even if the pair was separated by thousands of miles. She, undeniably, felt empty. That is what scared her, she had seen him look lifeless in a scarily accurate imitation of death before, but she always knew, just knew, that he was going to be okay. She didn't know that now.
"Harry, come back. Come back to me. I love you." She whispered. Her tears fell on his face, dampening his cheeks with her salty pain. She was past the point of raving antics, of anger and yelling; she was tired suddenly, so very tired of living.
The sun shone through the window (barred, she noticed, as if his unconscious body was going to attempt to break out of this awful place) in a cruel non-acknowledgment of her pain. She wished for rain to fall, rain to camouflage the tears that would run down her face once visiting hours were over and she was alone on the street. What would happen if he did die? She's always be alone, always wish for rain.
If this was a fairytale with a happy ending (and all self-respecting fairytales have happy endings) he'd wake up and confess his undying love, the two would ride off into the sunset happy and healthy and drunk on life. But life doesn't work like that, he didn't move from his silent slumber.
"Honey, visiting hours are over in five minutes, why don't you say your goodbyes and come back tomorrow." The healer's kind voice shook Ginny from her thoughts. She was panicked by the thought of leaving him, what if he woke up and was alone? What if –god forbid- never woke up and died alone? She grabbed him and held tightly, tears burning her eyes and stinging her cheeks.
"I promise you, I'll watch over him personally and owl you if there are any changes, okay? But you do have to go, you have to take care of yourself, sleep, eat, spend time with loved ones." The plump woman trundled over the Ginny and rested a wrinkled hand on her shoulder. "He'll be okay, sweetie,"
Ginny looked into the woman's soft brown eyes, liquid with pity, and whispered, "He has to be."