He drowns in his dreams

An exquisite extreme I know

He’s as damned as he seems

But more Heaven than a heart could hold





I watched Harry from across me, sleeping in a purple, fluffy sleeping bag. We were all camping out; just enjoying the last day before the wedding and all the chaos that was to ensue after. I hadn’t wanted to come with Ron, Hermione, and Harry on the trip, but Hermione had refused to go with out me.





Oh, he turned over. He was so cute when he slept. Though he looked and acted like any other teenage boy—tall, gangly, laughing, hitting, and eating like it was his last meal every meal, only himself and three other people alive know the fate that awaits him. Harry will have to go and kill the Dark Lord Voldemort. I miss the Harry before this seriousness—the Harry that would just love me without worries, laugh with me, kid with me. When he was like that, I almost couldn’t handle it—it was that perfect. His love, his loyalty, his devotion, was overwhelming.





And if I try to save him

My whole world would cave in

It just ain’t right

Lord it just ain’t right





When he broke up with me to go save the entire wizarding world, scenarios and schemes would flit hourly across my mind; plans to kidnap him, plans to make him stay home—if only for an hour longer—plans to just…make him take me back. Though all the things I though up were wonderful and kept me alive and sane when he broke up with me and destroyed my world, I would never go through with them—if I did, my real world would literally cave in. I have long since admitted to myself that while aurors are nice and all, they just give off a small sense of security; there is no way they could ever destroy Voldemort. They do not have the knowledge or power.





Oh and I don’t know

Don’t know what he’s after

But he’s so beautiful

Such a beautiful disaster

And if I could hold on

Through the tears and the laughter

Lord would it be beautiful

Or just a beautiful disaster





I wish he could take me with him. Oh, of course I have know idea what exactly he’s hunting for, I’ve only heard whispers but no explanations about Horcruxes, and honestly, I don’t know if I could take it through the ups and downs. Harry is beautiful, but just kind of disastrous.





He’s magic and myth

As strong as what I believe

A tragedy with

More damage than a soul should see





Some days I pity him more than others. I just think of all the tragedies and traumas that have happened—his parents, Cedric, Sirius, and now Dumbledore. Some people think dying is the worst thing that can happen to you—I disagree. I think that having to go through the death of another is worse, having to bear such horrid pain that you feel like your heart is being ripped itself into two.





But do I try to change him

So hard not to blame him

Hold me tight

Baby hold me tight

I’ve tried to change his mind—so far he hasn’t changed. I try not to blame him, but sometimes it’s just hard, knowing I have to stay at home like a china doll while he goes out and saves the world.





The other day, we were all outside playing Quidditch, just like usual. We both saw the snitch at the same time and were rushing towards it. Harry came up on the side of me, pushing me and trying to nudge me out of the way. I, however, didn’t budge (even though I was almost overtaken by the sensation of him being that close to me again). The snitch took a sudden dive, along with Harry and I. I’m not quite sure how it happened, but I think that when Harry pushed me, I hit a branch and rebounded onto him which brought us both down. I landed right next to him, the breath knocked out of me for more reasons than one. I looked over at him. Harry was still breathing heavily, but was pushing himself up. He offered a hand to me; I wondered if his hand tingled the way mine did.

“You ok, Gin?�

“Yeah,� I responded, at a loss of what to say at the re-adaption of my nickname. “Fine. And you still caught the snitch? Man, I-�





I was cut off by his lips being pushed rougly against mine. It was a deep, loving kiss, full of sorry’s and wanting. My hands hung limply at my sides, unsure—was I supposed to act a certain way at this? Beg him to take me back when it was over? Forget it ever happened? I didn’t know, but I sure as heck wasn’t complaining.



He abruptly pulled away, jumping as if he been scalded by hot water.

“I-I…oh. I’m sorry.� Was all he said before he got the heck out of there.





I don’t know what he wants from me anymore.



And if I could hold on

Through the tears and the laughter

Would it be beautiful

Or just a beautiful disaster

I’m longing for love and the logical

But he’s only happy hysterical

I’m searching for some kind of miracle

Waiting so long

I’ve waited so long



I long for him, everyday. I wish things could go back to thw way they were—happy, contented, normal, but Harry would only be happy doing something hysterically noble and rescuing somebody. That’s just who he is. I’ve hoped, prayed, and wished for some kind of miracle (like Voldemort just falling over dead, for instance) and I’ll probably be wishing, hoping, and praying until the end of this stupid war.



He’s soft to the touch

But frayed at the ends he breaks

He’s never enough

But still he’s more than I can take



Harry doesn’t know it, but he’s so fragile. I have seen him in every single mood there is—quiet, loud, exuberant, proud, happy, sad, tired, determined, mad, frustrated, angsty, loving, moody, guilty, loving, and embarrassed. He doesn’t know that he needs me—I could pull one string and he would break, but I could tie one string up and sew him back together again. Sometimes this feeling overwhelms and I want him, but other days I want him so much I can’t even take it.



Oh and I don’t know

Don’t know what he’s after

But he’s so beautiful

Such a beautiful disaster

And if I could hold on

Through the tears and the laughter

Would it be beautiful

Or just a beautiful disaster

He’s so beautiful

Lord he’s so beautiful

He’s beautiful



He rolls over in his sleep again. Still asleep, he murmurs something to himself over and over.

“I love you Ginny. I love you, I love you, I love you.� He does this for a few long, perfect moments before his dreams quiet and he’s back to his normal, peaceful sleep.



Maybe this will turn out beautifully. Or, maybe, a disaster.



Hopefully not the latter.