Scars

"If two lives join, there is oft a scar,
They are one and one, with a shadowy third;
One near one is too far." --Robert Browning

Everyone has scars. There were the physical ones. Then there were the emotional ones, not visible to others but very powerful.

He carries both.

She should know. She had watched him for most of her life. Even when he only knew her as his best friend's little sister, she watched.

He was known for a particular scar. A horrible remainder of why he was orphaned. Of the terrible fate he has been forced into. Of the great evil that threatened both the wizarding and Muggle worlds.

There were other physical ones as well. Some were reminders of further encounters with Voldemort. But others were from Quidditch matches and magical mishaps, lingering marks from happier days. Madame Pomfrey was good but she couldn't cure everything.

And then there were the ones you could not see. The loneliness of his life with his aunt and uncle. The fame, stares, and the resulting isolation he endured since returning to the wizarding world. The dangers he has faced as the war escalated.

He had guilt as well. She could see it in his face when Ron tried to hide the marks on his arms or Hermione had a sudden hitch in her breathing. When someone dared to say Sirius's name. When he caught her eye from across a room.

'Harry and his stupid noble reasons,' she mused bitterly. He wanted to keep her safe. He needed that to do what he had to do. He was trying to keep her unharmed.

However, she was far from unharmed.

She had her scars as well. She carried the imprint of Tim Riddle on her soul from the Chamber of Secrets. She had gone with him into the Department of Mysteries.

She wasn't innocent anymore. None of them were. The adults lamented the loss of their childhood, but it didn't change things.

The person who could, who would, was standing across the common room from her. Just beyond her reach. She had to watch him as he distances himself from those around him. She had to let him.

Finally, Ginny felt she had tortured herself enough. She exchanged one look with Harry as she crossed the room. In that brief moment, his perfect green eyes reflected every emotion she felt. Ron said something and pulled Harry's gaze away.

'Someday,' his eyes seemed to tell her.

She sighed. Someday. A lot of their hopes and plans hinged on that one word. Someday, when the war was over. Someday, when there was peace.

As she climbed the stairs to her bed, Ginny prayed that that someday would come.


Scars "If two lives join, there is oft a scar, They are one and one, with a shadowy third; One near one is too far." --Robert Browning Everyone has scars. There were the physical ones. Then there were the emotional ones, not visible to others but very powerful. He carries both. She should know. She had watched him for most of her life. Even when he only knew her as his best friend's little sister, she watched. He was known for a particular scar. A horrible remainder of why he was orphaned. Of the terrible fate he has been forced into. Of the great evil that threatened both the wizarding and Muggle worlds. There were other physical ones as well. Some were reminders of further encounters with Voldemort. But others were from Quidditch matches and magical mishaps, lingering marks from happier days. Madame Pomfrey was good but she couldn't cure everything. And then there were the ones you could not see. The loneliness of his life with his aunt and uncle. The fame, stares, and the resulting isolation he endured since returning to the wizarding world. The dangers he has faced as the war escalated. He had guilt as well. She could see it in his face when Ron tried to hide the marks on his arms or Hermione had a sudden hitch in her breathing. When someone dared to say Sirius's name. When he caught her eye from across a room. 'Harry and his stupid noble reasons,' she mused bitterly. He wanted to keep her safe. He needed that to do what he had to do. He was trying to keep her unharmed. However, she was far from unharmed. She had her scars as well. She carried the imprint of Tim Riddle on her soul from the Chamber of Secrets. She had gone with him into the Department of Mysteries. She wasn't innocent anymore. None of them were. The adults lamented the loss of their childhood, but it didn't change things. The person who could, who would, was standing across the common room from her. Just beyond her reach. She had to watch him as he distances himself from those around him. She had to let him. Finally, Ginny felt she had tortured herself enough. She exchanged one look with Harry as she crossed the room. In that brief moment, his perfect green eyes reflected every emotion she felt. Ron said something and pulled Harry's gaze away. 'Someday,' his eyes seemed to tell her. She sighed. Someday. A lot of their hopes and plans hinged on that one word. Someday, when the war was over. Someday, when there was peace. As she climbed the stairs to her bed, Ginny prayed that that someday would come.


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