Harry's Birthday - Part 7

On several occasions, he'd discovered Ginny, Ron and Hermione with their heads huddled together and whispering frantically, although they always broke apart when he'd entered the room.

He suspected they'd spent a lot of time discussing him and seeking a possible escape from his situation. The fact none of them had approached him didn't bode well, and Harry didn't have the heart to ask. He was only holding it all together by moving forward and keeping his eye on the prize.

One Horcrux at a time had become his mantra.

"I'm okay," he whispered, shrugging. "Have to be, don't I?"

"Not with me," she whispered gently. "I promised myself to be the one to prop you back up if you falter. You might be determined to save the wizarding world, but I'm determined to save you."

A lump rose in Harry's throat as he wrapped his arms around her and held her close. Speaking into her shoulder he said, "That might not be possible, Ginny."

Ginny's grip tightened around him. "It is possible. Anything's possible if you've got enough nerve. I've told you that before, don't you remember?"

"Yeah, I remember," Harry said, smiling. "You came to my rescue then, too."

"That's me, Ginny Weasley: hero rescuer," she said, still clutching him tightly. He could feel rather than see her grin.

"I'm no hero," he said gruffly. "I don't even know what I'm doing."

"It'll be all right, Harry. I know it seems insurmountable when you look at what we've got to do as a whole, but if we take it a little at a time, sooner or later the puzzle pieces will come together and everything will fit," Ginny said. He couldn't see her face, but her voice sounded confident, and it soothed him.

"You make me feel like I can do anything," he whispered.

"You can."

"I saw my mum and dad's graves when I was in Godric's Hollow," he said. He'd left that part of the story out when he'd told them all about Wormtail. He didn't know why, but he suddenly had the urge to talk about it with her.

"That must have been hard for you," she said, running her fingers through his hair.

Harry shrugged, enjoying the sensation her fingers were creating. "It was strange. I've always wondered about them, but I thought when I finally saw their resting place that I'd feel some sort of connection to them or something. I dunno. It's stupid really."

"It isn't stupid, Harry."

"It was hard to be there; it made me think of how different things should have been, but I didn't feel like they were there. I didn't feel any different about them then I always had. Does that make any sense?" Harry asked.

"I suppose," Ginny said carefully, "that maybe it's not the place where they are buried that connects us to the people we've lost, but the feelings we have inside for them. I've never lost anyone really close to me, so it's not like I know what I'm talking about, but Mum lost a couple of her brothers in the last war. I never knew them because they died before I was born, but I know she still talks to them sometimes, particularly when she's feeling stressed. Fred and George were named for them, well, their initials anyway.

"I don't remember Mum ever going to their graves, but it doesn't mean she loved them any less. Maybe some people need a grave as a place to grieve and others don't. You never had a grave site to go to, right? You've always just known they died, so you've found other ways to feel connected to them."