Ficlet: Harry, come on (Harry/Ginny) for Mudblood428
I wasn't intending to post this quite so soon, but it is the lovely mudblood428's birthday, and this ficlet could only be for her. It's based on this beautiful illustration of the beginning of chapter 29 of HBP (V, if you'd rather I linked to the post on your LJ, let me know - I couldn't find it while making this post).
Title: Harry, come on.
Rating: PG-13 for mention of death
Characters: Ginny, Harry
Wordcount: 430
Summary: The end of chapter 28 and the beginning of chapter 29 of HBP, from Ginny's POV.
Notes: Written for mudblood428 and inspired by her art. Happy birthday! I hope you've had a very exciting weekend, and that the Borders event went well.
A silent crowd clustered around the bottom of the Astronomy Tower. Ginny stood on tiptoe, but she still couldn't see what they were looking at; then she heard Hagrid calling Harry's name, and hurried forward. She had to push at first, but the students looking around with horror in their faces leaned away as they recognised her. What on earth had happened? Surely Harry couldn't be -
He gave us the Felix Felicis. He gave us his luck. She saw no one now, just pressed through the huddle of people to where Harry crouched - alive. Merlin, alive - flanked by Hagrid, who was tugging his arm, and by a whimpering Fang. Beyond them all was -
A pile of clothes. Yes, that was it. A heap of robes, with a long beard, and there were limbs inside those robes. Ginny had not seen a dead person before, but she recognised death as soon as she recognised the person. It was Professor Dumbledore. He was dead. A line of blood ran from his mouth.
Harry knelt beside him. They had gone out together, leaving the Felix Felicis for her, Hermione and Ron - and Dumbledore was dead. Exhausted as Ginny was from a night of fighting wizards with ten times her experience, and terrified for Bill, she realised that, however bad her night had been, Harry's had been worse.
She stepped forward, and Hagrid turned. Tears flooded his face, and his clothes were streaked with ash and blood. "Go on, sweetheart," he muttered. "He'll listen to you."
He moved aside, pulling Fang with him, and now she could see Harry properly. He knelt at Dumbledore's side, fingers tangled in his robes. There was blood on his face, too, but he did not appear to be seriously injured. He was not crying, but his face as he stared at Dumbledore was so suffused with grief that Ginny wondered how he could bear it.
How much more? she demanded silently. How much more is he supposed to take?
But that sort of reaction wouldn't help, and getting him away from all these curious eyes might. She took a deep breath and bent down to touch his arm. "Harry," she said, trying to pitch her voice evenly between gentle and firm, "come on."
He looked up, and she watched him come back to her. His eyes were dark, almost grey with lack of expression until recognition registered there.
She pulled him easily to his feet (what was that crumpled in his hand?) and led him away from Dumbledore, through the throng and towards the hospital wing.