The Day After Tomorrow

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HARRY had watched Ron run after Hermione and then three had become one. He'd never felt the hole in his heart that was Ginny more than he did in that moment. His body was itching to follow them, run after Hermione and do what he knew he needed to be for her, which was a friend.

Except all he could see between every blink was Ginny smiling, her freckled cheeks wrinkling, Ginny laughing and throwing her red hair back, the smooth of her shoulder every time she swept strands back and Ginny as she'd been when he'd broken it off, brown eyes glassy with tears and cheeks flushed. He could still remember the sound of that dry sob that escaped her throat when she'd been marched off. And then finally, there was the image of Ginny he hated to recall, the very same one that was printed large format of the Daily Prophet: Ginny behind bars.

Surely there was something he could do, being Harry Potter the Chosen One and Saviour must hold more weight than just photo opts and good storytelling, surely there was something useful he could actually do. Distantly Harry recalled an option, something muttered in passing during the war. Kingsley had offered him a place in the auror department when he finished his studies, but perhaps he could be convinced with a little encouragement.

He knew he'd always had a mystical abstract kind of power over everyone, like with Professor Slughorn, it was some magnetic pull that made people listen when he spoke and act when spoken to. It was that lightning bolt on his forehead that automatically got him attention that he didn't always feel like he deserved, but he had never dared wield it.

In fact, he'd purposely grown his dark hair long just so the loose curls would cover it. Harry had never tried to use his name, his story and accomplishments as a weapon before. He'd always shied away from any chance to flaunt his life stories and remained humble in the shadow of the spotlight.

But if being Harry Potter the Chosen One could save Ginny and Harry Potter couldn't, he'd be Harry Potter the Chosen One, no questions asked.

Luna still had her hand on his shoulder, the pressure a warm reminder that even though Hermione and Ron and Ginny weren't there, he wasn't alone. "Ah, thanks for that Luna." He cast her an embarrassed sideways smile. He didn't know how he deserved her kindness, her concern after everything. But he was grateful she still saw something in him worth saving.

Luna shrugged a delicate shoulder, glancing away from Harry to the other students along the table. They looked perturbed as if Hermione had ignored the script of 'being okay' they were all supposed to follow, and were now waiting for the consequences. "She'll be fine Harry, she's Ginny Weasley."

The quiet confidence in her voice made Harry thaw just a degree.

He thought about that, of Ginny as solid, reliable and resilient. She was the one who made the fame bearable. She'd always been there beside him, shielding him from the looks but now the looks were burning holes into his skin, singing irremovable marks with their pity and curiosity. She made him feel like Harry, plain old Harry.

His mind dredged up the memories of all their moments, from laughter and smiles to waking up from nightmares to her tracing the shape of the lightning bolt scar. For once it didn't feel like a curse, something to stare at, it felt like a solution to saving her.

Luna watched Harry's brow furrow, watched his green eyes go distant like he'd been transported somewhere else entirely. Funny how one person held the power to impact so many others, Luna thought; it was like a tangle of love and anguish. And on top of their own they had to deal with each others, it was amazing how any one of them survived at all. She'd been thinking of the jagged edges of the mirror when it had exploded in a rain of crystal. It had haunted her for long nights, comforted her too, but now that she knew the truth, she felt consoled, content even.