"Well…I can’t say I’m surprised. I knew this would happen in the end. I knew you wouldn’t be happy unless you were hunting Voldemort. Maybe that’s why I like you so much.” 1



The painful tightness in Ginny’s throat came back strong and fast, preventing her from saying anything else and giving into the sadness she now felt. She said no more, no ‘I love you’, not even ‘Goodbye’. She didn’t think she could stay in her seat any longer, but she didn’t want to leave him alone so she stayed planted there, staring at her hands and fighting with her constricted throat. Sweet relief came when Harry got up and walked away from her, though her heart dropped as the warmth of his hand left hers. Still she would not cry. The tightness in her throat subsided, but only a little. Her vision was now blurred by tears that would not fall.





She took a deep breath and stared out onto the lake watching it sparkle as the sun caught each and every ripple. A small smile crept on her face as she remembered all the afternoons she and Harry spent together by the lake. Since they started going out the only free time they had to spend together was during lunch. Often times they would spend it under the beech tree talking about Quidditch, but mostly tangled in each other’s arms. Her smile started to fade as she remembered yesterday afternoon.





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The June sun shown brightly upon their backs as they made their way outside the castle grounds to the lake for their afternoon rendezvous. As usual, Harry took his place under the canopy of the large beech tree and settled himself against its trunk. Ginny waited until he got comfortable, settled herself on the grass with her head propped up on his thigh. She looked up at Harry who was deep in thought staring out onto the lake while absent-mindedly stroking her flaming red hair. His bright green eyes looked tired and worn from lack of sleep. She figured he hadn’t been sleeping much since Dumbledore had died. Her heart sank at the thought of him having a new nightmare added to his thoughts. He looked down, feeling her eyes on his, and smiled at her before returning his gaze back to the lake. She could tell that there was something on his mind, but thought better than to try to coax it out of him. Instead, she asked a simple question that he could either choose to answer or choose to ignore.





“What are you thinking about?” she asked not actually expecting a truthful answer.



“Nothing,” Harry replied, as his eyes shifted from the lake to her eyes, he smiled “just admiring the view and enjoying the company,”



“You’re lying, but I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself,” she said with a smile, her cheeks started to blush.



“I always enjoy myself when were together,” he said with a smile that met his eyes.



His words continued to make her blush; her cheeks now matched the brightness of her hair. Ginny got up and kissed him. He took advantage of her seated position, kissed her back and laid down on the grass resting his head on her thigh. He closed his eyes as she began to massage his scalp. She loved running her fingers through his messy black hair. After a while her fingers found their way to the front of his head where his fringe lay covering his lightening bolt scar. She pushed his fringe back to better see his face exposing the thin white scar on his forehead. She didn’t know what made her do it but she began to slowly trace it very softly with the pad of her index finger. Harry instantly shuddered and opened his eyes bringing her out of her reverie. She quickly removed her hand instantly knowing she went too far.





“Oh, Harry I’m sorry, I’m sorry I’m so sorry,” she was now on the verge of tears. She could feel her heart race painfully to her throat. Why did she have to touch his scar? Why did she give into her curiosity so easily?



“Its okay,” he said as he gently took a hold of her hand and kissed it.



He stood up, still holding her hand and looked directly at her. He didn’t look upset or angry, but he didn’t look happy either. In fact he looked slightly uncomfortable; like he just remembered something horrible he needed to do. She thought he was going to leave her there, but instead he pulled her up and held her close to him. She rested her head on his chest and could feel his heart racing just as fast as her own. He held his embrace until she calmed down and her breathing regulated. He moved her chin up, gently wiped a single tear from her cheek with the back of his hand and kissed her.





“We should get back, lunch is almost over, and Ron might send out a search party for us,” he said attempting to make the moment lighter.





They broke apart and started for the castle hand in hand. It was at that moment she realized the full magnitude of Harry’s future, the defeat of Voldemort and the fate of all wizard-kind rested in his hands. She knew that by touching his scar it reminded him of the ultimate evil that must be defeated, and that needed to come first above anything else. There was only one solution and she knew it was something Harry must do and if he didn’t do it soon it would be up to her to do what was best for both of them and the rest of the wizarding world...she would have to let him go.





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She could feel a pair of eyes on her and forced herself to turn to face them. Hermione’s puffy, red-rimmed eyes were looking at her with inquisitive concern. There was a silent understanding between them, one that only close friends share in moments of sadness. Ginny tried to smile, but the tightness in her throat over took her, warm tears started to fall slowly down her cheeks, silent sobs soon followed. Hermione’s eyes started to tear as her friend broke down. She instinctively put an arm around her; pressed Ginny’s head to her shoulder and let her cry.





“Are you okay?” asked Hermione, wiping tears from her own eyes. Ginny took a long shuddering breath, and nodded her head.



“No…but I will be,” smiling slightly through the tears streaming down her face. She gave Hermione a hug, got up from her seat and headed towards the castle truthfully believing in her heart she would be okay. She took comfort knowing she was doing the right thing by letting him go; rather, letting him let her go.





1. J.K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince, Bloomsbury page 603.