Much Too Young
by US HP Fan
Disclaimer and Notes: As with my other HP stories, I own nothing in the HP world. I really wish I did (Then I could easily buy that new car we need). I'm just borrowing the characters. Once again, a major note of thanks go to my beta, Felina Black, my unofficial sounding board Mame, and my family who inspires me all the time.
Ginny Weasley stared out her bedroom window into the pouring night. The air felt oppressive and there was a feeling of melancholy that pervaded the Burrow.
“Why?” she asked herself for the millionth time. “Why did he have to die?” He was so young. He was in his prime and his life had the promise of so many possibilities.
It had been only a month since the final battle, and Ginny was tired of the platitudes people offered to console her.
“At least he died a hero,” they would say to her.
Or, “He went out fighting—he would have wanted it that way.”
How did they know what he wanted? How did they know he hadn’t wanted to live, grow up, play Quidditch, marry, have dozens of children, and die a ripe old of age of 175?
Ginny knew. Ginny knew he had plans that went beyond fighting Voldemort.
“He died saving others,” they would tell her. Well, blast the others. Ginny would rather have him back in her life.
Knowing he died fighting did little to console Ginny. Even though their side had been victorious, and the world had been made safer, Ginny felt as though a large piece of her heart had been permanently torn out and trampled.
Ginny thought back a few years. Their relationship had been more than awkward her first few years at Hogwarts. She had been the little sister, the one who gawked at Harry--the tag-along who was excluded.
Excluded that was, until her fourth year. She had finally moved past her crush on Harry, and she was finally able to act like herself again around him, Ron, and Hermione. She had come up with the name, Dumbledore’s Army, and she had proven herself to be very resourceful several times throughout the year. And though she was a year younger than the three of them, she had held her own for quite some time in the Department of Mysteries.
Ginny hadn’t thought it was possible, but they had actually grown closer after the battle in the Department of Mysteries. All six of the friends were closer, but the two of them seemed to have become each other’s anchor in the turbulent times that followed. It was as if losing Sirius made them realize how quickly life and loved ones could be lost, and neither wanted to lose the other. Their bond of love went deep.
“You’re thinking of him again, aren’t you?” a voice interrupted Ginny’s thoughts.
“Yes.” Ginny turned to see Hermione enter her bedroom.
“I miss him too,” she choked.
Ginny could see tears forming in Hermione’s eyes.
“It’s just not fair, Hermione! The good guys are supposed to live! He was too young to die.”
“I know. He knew the risks—we all did, but it doesn’t seem fair he actually had to die. It shouldn’t have been him. It should’ve been Malfoy or Bellatrix or one of the other Death Eaters who died, not him.”
“I know.” Ginny’s control broke and the floodgates of tears were opened again. Hermione quickly moved over to hug her.
They sat silently comforting each other for a long time. The heavens continued to pour down outside.
“Oh, Ron!” Ginny moaned, “I miss you so much.”