All That You Leave Behind

A Happy New Year's Day to all our readers and reviewers! Angst here. Over on her side of the salt, poor Queen has toddled off to bed. We've worked hard! Very hard, and so we hope you enjoy this latest installment of our story. We've got lots of hits, but not lots of reviews and we'd REALLY like to know what you think of our efforts so please, take a few minutes to tell us. It's very much appreciated! Now, on to the story thus far:







Chapter 10











A week of emptying bedpans and running tests on the contents wasn't exactly how Harry had envisioned his post-Voldemort life. Now he threw himself into one of the worn armchairs downstairs and again asked himself why he was doing this.





Because he needs your help and you owe him that help the damned voice said yet again.





"I know," Harry sighed, "I KNOW! Shut it!" He was DAMNED tired of that voice!





"Master Harry?" Kreacher inquired, appearing out of nowhere.





"Nothing, Kreacher," Harry sighed again, "just talking to myself."





"Perhaps Master Harry would like a cup of tea?" Kreacher asked and then didn't wait for an answer, instead disappearing again.





Harry thought about life outside this grim little house. Hermione surely would have gone to get her parent's by now. Ron had probably been so relieved to have her about again he wasn't angry anymore. Mrs. Weasley was surely working through the loss of Fred in her kitchen. And Ginny...





"Ginny," Harry said softly.





He missed Ginny.





Missed her terribly. He wondered what she was doing now. Was she missing him too? Was she angry at him for just taking off like he'd done? Probably not, he thought, she would understand once Hermione explained that he was off doing something he couldn't tell her about. An unpleasant thought occurred to him then, along with Hermione's parting words. Was he taking advantage of Ginny's understanding? Of her feelings for him?





No, he decided firmly, he wasn't. Him counting on her understanding wasn't the same as taking advantage of it, no matter what Hermione thought or said. She didn't know Ginny the way that Harry did. She'd never looked into her eyes and seen what he'd seen. Ginny understood him. He'd known that from Dumbledore's funeral. The way she hadn't tried to stop him from doing what he had had to do, even though she had wanted him there with her, and even though she hadn't known where he was going or how dangerous it would be. He remembered that he had broken up with her, trying to do the right thing, and thought about how miserable they had both been. She hadn't tried to stop him, hadn't cried and whinged, and in that moment he'd known that Ginny wasn't like all the other girls he knew.





Wasn't like any other girl he knew





No, Ginny would understand, would be happier that she knew Harry was doing something important, and she would trust Harry enough to know he would tell her when he could, and that he would come back to her.





Harry couldn't bear to keep Ginny in the dark, and scanned the room excitedly for some parchment. Even though he couldn't share what was really happening, he knew he could tell her a little. Let her know he was thinking of her, and missing her.





He found a piece and settled back into his chair. He had snagged a quill on his way back to his seat, and now sat, the feather brushing his cheek as he pondered what to put.





Dear Ginny, he wrote, and stopped, completely stumped.





He looked about the shabby room trying to gather his thoughts and work out what he wanted to say. Finally, he just decided to go with his heart.





I really miss you.





I'm sure by now you've seen Hermione, and I don't want you to be angry with me, but I wouldn't let her tell you where I am. It's something I have to do, Gin, on my own, and I know you'll understand that.





He stopped, and worried. Was he taking her for granted? He magically erased 'know' and replaced it with 'hope'.



He continued:



It has to do with a lot of things, a lot of unresolved things, but mostly it's just something I have to do.





I don't want you to worry about me. I'm fine, and I'm not in any danger, well, at least not like before, and I will tell you what I'm up to, but I just can't right now.





He felt bad and chewed his lip. He wanted to tell her, wanted someone to share this with, someone who wasn't gifted like Hermione, someone like him. God, he needed to tell Ginny how much he wanted her here.





I really want to tell you, but it's not just my secret. I will tell you, one day, and soon. I promise. Please trust me





He stopped again. Was he coming off as needy and desperate?





No, he finally decided, it was Ginny after all.





Please trust me, and know that if I could be there with you, I would be. I do miss you. More than you know. If I had a Marauder's Map of the Burrow, I'd be watching you on it day and night.





Wait, he thought ... that was a bit creepy. He magically erased that and chewed thoughtfully on the end of the quill.





I wonder what you're doing there at the Burrow, and I wonder if you're missing me like I miss you.



Hmmm. He considered that a moment and then erased it. He knew what he wanted to say, what he felt, but it just wasn't coming out right.





He tried again.





It feels so strange not seeing your smile, or seeing you threatening to hex one of your brothers. All the time I was away, your smile was what kept me going, and all the time I was in the infirmary, waking up to see your smile and feel your hand in mine made everything worth it. And now, I can't wait until I can see that smile again. So, don't worry Gin, because I will be back. I can't be with you right now, but in my heart I am, and always will be.







Harry read through what he had just written and couldn't help feeling rather pleased with himself.





I can't wait to hear from you soon. Let me know how everyone is. I feel so out of things where I am, and I miss everyone. You most of all.





Love,





Harry





Harry cast his eyes back over the completed letter, pleased with what he had written. Satisfied, he folded it up, addressed it, and magically sealed it. He smiled as he imagined it arriving at the Weasleys’, Ginny taking it out of the owl's claws.





"Hedwig," he called out absently.





Instantly, a pang of pain smote him. Hedwig. She would never again deliver letters for him. He felt frustration well up in him - how many more things were going to be taken from him? His parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, Hedwig, and, at the moment, Ginny too. He felt weariness overcome him. Exhaustion at the load he was carrying. Alone.





Setting his mouth, he determined to not wallow in self-pity. He was lucky in lots of ways; luckier than the man upstairs certainly. Still, this lack of owl was a real problem. How was he meant to send a letter to Ginny? He gazed about the room, as if expecting to see an owl politely waiting for him.





"Shit!" he muttered when no bird was forthcoming.





"Typical!" Harry growled, pacing the room. One stupid letter! And he wouldn't be able to send it. He wished Remus had had the time to teach him how to send messages with his patronus. Or Tonks. But it was too late for that now, and the man upstairs certainly wasn't up to it.





"Bloody fucking hell!" Harry swore in rage and grief.





He collapsed back into the chair, biting his lip and threw the letter onto the table. He would not let himself cry, even though that was exactly what he felt like doing. But there was no way he was going to let Snape wake up and hear him wailing like a baby over one letter. That would only be adding fuel to Snape's fire over him looking after him, he'd sneer and call him an immature brat or something equally insulting. Harry used his anger to will away the tears.



Think, Harry, think.





But nothing came.





At last he rose from his chair and opened the letter, re-reading it, trying to imagine Ginny's reactions. He felt bad knowing she wouldn't read it, yet somehow closer to her. And then, he had the solution!





He would write letters to her, every day, and keep them all. Then he would be able to feel close to her when he needed, and, when he finally was able to tell Ginny everything, he could hand her the letters, to show her how much he'd been thinking of her.





It was perfect! Well, as perfect as this miserable situation could be.







Of course, at that moment, there was a loud THUMP from upstairs.





"Dammit!" Harry cried, jumping up. He shoved the letter into a pocket and raced to Snape's bedroom.





The other man had deliberately knocked over the chair by his bed, and was now glaring at Harry as he rushed into the small room.





"Sorry to ... inconvenience .. you," he whispered, a sneer firmly in place, "But I believe .. it is time .. for my next potion?"





"I was just downstairs," Harry said sullenly. He was in no mood to put up with Snape's crap right now.





"Be that...as it ...may...." the man rasped evilly, "I have...been...calling you.....re- repeatedly."





Harry stared at him, feeling somewhat ashamed, but a part of him couldn't help wondering if that were actually true or not. Surely Kreacher would have heard him then? He decided not to press the issue, and set about opening and mixing the two vials that together made up Snape's medicine.





"And just ....what... was so important ... that you forget ... your stupid ... self imposed ... martyrdom?" Snape goaded.





Harry snapped, "None of your business" before he could stop himself.





"It IS...my business....what you are...doing...in MY...house!" the man rasped angrily.





Harry just glared at him hatefully.





Severus raised an eyebrow, "Oh...touched a nerve...P-Potter? Is your...romantic ‘rescue’...not going...to plan?"





"Never mind my romantic anything!" Harry growled furiously.





The man on the bed regarded him with those black eyes, and then a light appeared in them.





"Oh....I see..." he began, a cruel smile twisting his face,"...let me see...” he added with relish, "…Miss Weasley...doesn't know...where you are...does she?"





"Shut up!" Harry snapped. He didn't need his pain stroked by this bastard.





"Oh...my..." Snape wheezed, "...did you...have a...lover's...quarrel?"





"Fuck you!" Harry shouted. He shoved the potion at the evil git, and slammed out of the room.





His fury carried him back down to the living room where he pulled the letter to Ginny from his pocket. Clutching the crumpled parchment, he felt a sob rise in his throat, and bit his lip to keep it in. It was too much. This was all too much. His lower lip quivered, his vision blurred suddenly, and he clenched both hands tightly, holding on to his one precious link with Ginny with all his might. He threw himself into the chair and smoothed the letter out on the tabletop, running his finger over her name. His heart aching, he bit his lip again, and pressed the letter to his chest, against his wildly pounding heart. Tears chased silently down his face.





Harry couldn't bear the awful feeling building inside him any longer. A choked cry broke from his lips. Everything that had happened in the last few weeks finally caught up with him. His head sank onto his arms, and miserable, alone, he began to sob.