The Glow of Sunrise



In the soft light of dawn, Harry could just make out the thin line of Ginny's silhouette rising and falling slowly under the worn sheets, the splash of red hair tangled on her cheek. He leaned back against the door, and as he listened to her gentle, sleeping breath, he imagined how wonderful it would be to simply climb into bed next to her and join her in sleep.



Harry closed his eyes for a moment and inhaled the soft, flowery aroma that was Ginny and felt his throat grow tight. Would he ever smell that heady scent again?



Yesterday, she'd looked lovely in the airy bridesmaid gown; she could have danced with any of the young men who gazed at her appreciatively, but she'd only had eyes for Harry. She even cajoled him into dancing with her, and as he held her close and breathed in her sweet fragrance, he very nearly decided to let her come along after all.



But he knew the task ahead of him was dangerous, and he knew he would likely die, and as much as he wanted her with him, he did not want her last memory of him to be of his death. Even worse, he did not want to watch her draw her last breath, and so he had to leave her behind.



Harry heard a soft thud on the landing outside Ginny's room and his heart quickened. Was it too late? Had they already been discovered? Then he heard Ron swear lowly and Hermione shush him in a scandalized whisper, and felt his heart flop sickeningly in his chest. It was time; today they would begin their task, and they had to leave before anyone woke. He hoped she would understand.



The world beyond the closed curtains began to glow with the pink light of sunrise, and Harry could see Ginny's face more clearly. A faint wrinkle marred her forehead where her eyebrows drew together, and her lips turned down in a gentle frown. All week long, Harry had seen the concerned looks Ginny shot at him, Ron and Hermione, and it seemed now, even in sleep, Ginny knew something was wrong.



Harry ached to step forward, brush the tangled hair off her cheek, and kiss away her frown, but knew to do so, would be to wake her. Once she was awake, there would be no reasoning with her, and she would insist on packing a rucksack and coming along with them.



He imagined her in a few hours time, coming up the stairs to the room he shared with Ron, stomping loudly to announce her presence. Then she would fling open the door and grandly state that breakfast was ready and Mum said it was time they got their lazy arses out of bed. And then she would realize their beds were empty, their brooms were gone, and then perhaps she would see the note that Ron had propped against his pillow.



Of course, she wouldn't believe they had really gone; after all, Harry had promised her that he wouldn't leave her behind. Once it sank in what they'd done, she'd search for Harry's note, but she wouldn't find one.



For as many times as Harry had tried and failed in the past week to break it to her that he had to do this without her, he couldn't even find the right words to write to say goodbye. He hoped he'd be back one day, and then he would explain. Hopefully she wouldn't hex him on sight.



"Harry, mate," Ron whispered through the door.



"Yeah?"



"We need to go," Ron paused, and Harry could imagine Ron, on the other side of the door, at odds even now with leaving Harry in his little sister's bedroom. "We'll be in the kitchen," he muttered finally.



With a sinking feeling in his stomach, Harry stepped away from the door and turned to go. He stopped with his hand on the knob and looked over his shoulder. The curtains blew in the soft morning breeze and the pale light slipping through the window danced off Ginny's face. Swallowing hard, Harry concentrated on the ache in his chest and tried to no avail to will it away.



It was not the last time. He would see her again.



Except, he didn't really believe that.



Choking back an angry sob, Harry strode quietly across the room and knelt by her bed. He reached out a trembling hand and gave in to the impulse to brush the sweaty strands of red off her cheek. The frown on her face melted and she sighed in her sleep.



Harry tried to capture every hair, every pale eyelash, each single freckle, and commit it to memory. The way the pink light of the early sun warmed the apple of her cheeks. The flash of the pale, soft skin of her neck and shoulders, glistening slightly with sweat. He bit back a sigh and trailed his thumb lightly across her lips before carefully easing in and barely, just barely brushing his lips across hers.