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Emerald Of My Eyes
By sapphire200182

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Category: Post-HBP, Post-Hogwarts
Characters:All
Genres: Romance, Tragedy
Warnings: Sexual Situations
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 59
Summary: *March DSTA Romance nominee*It is said in the Wizarding World that witches who wish at midnight on Valentine's Day will have their wishes granted. But is love a little bit too late for a certain female Weasley, burdened by the physical and emotional scars that remain from her experiences during the war?
Hitcount: Story Total: 25805; Chapter Total: 5517





Author's Notes:
Many thanks to my esteemed reviewer GINNY__POTTER258, especially for critical advice concerning girl-talk, several specific incidents and the general plotline…thanks dear!




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ACT 2: Tears in the Dark


The walk back to Gringotts was a brisk one, but Ginny hardly registered the crowds that surged around her. Passing Searinox by the twin gates of Gringotts, she barely replied to his respectful “Good afternoon, Miss Weasley.”

She did her work numbly, mechanically, until at about four, when, as she tried to tackle a tottering pile of paperwork, she felt ‘It’ come.

‘It’ was her personal demon. It attacked her when she was at her lowest, or when she was stressed, or when she was reminded of that terrible day, like she had been reminded inadvertently at lunch today.

‘It’ was the feeling of lost childhoods, shattered dreams, the futility of the fragmented world she lived in, the feeling that death and destruction had struck her down, but hadn’t fully claimed her, because Death himself had passed over her and moved instead to reap the lives of so many of her friends.

‘It’ was the feeling that it had all been in vain. It had first attacked her that night in St. Mungo’s when a nosy trainee Healer actually berated her for feeling sorry for herself…she’d replied that her friends whom the Death Eaters hadn’t killed were scarred for life, hexed him badly and checked herself out of the hospital…

Percy… Padma Patil… Michael Corner… poor Lavender Brown… Seamus Finnigan… her Gryffindor Quidditch team-mate, Katie Bell… Hestia Jones, Mundungus Fletcher, Sturgis Podmore… so many others who had been in the Order…

Ginny sat stonily at her desk. Her walking stick was still in her hands, clenched tight in her fists.

When she had been more emotionally unstable, ‘It’ had included the feeling that she had been abandoned, cast adrift on a lonely sea, and that it was better to just end it all. At times Ginny had stared at her wand for hours, wondering what it would be like to take her own life, and just end it all, you know?.

The detritus of her work lay around her; ledgers left open, lying about carelessly, quill still on the desk beside her, ink-pot uncovered and her diamond scales and machines strewn about, out of their proper places and drawers.

Her expression was dull, and she gazed blankly and unseeingly at nothing. In her mind’s eye, however, a thousand images — forever imprinted in her consciousness — flashed before her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


It was the thirty-first of October, 1998. Halloween’s Day, in fact. Dark clouds smothered the sky. Thunder rolled across the heavens, like a giant bowling ball spinning down the polished celestial lanes. This gloomy backdrop was rent occasionally by bolts of lightning.

Riddle Manor. All around was chaos. Spells and curses flashed overhead every few seconds, the biggest fireworks display the wizarding world had ever seen.

And also the deadliest.

Ginny ducked a red bolt from her masked opponent. Pointing her wand and concentrating hard, she non-verbally cast the hex Bill had taught her to defend herself with…after the Chamber of Secrets…

The jet of blue sparks struck the Death Eater in the chest. Seconds later, his hands came up to clutch and tear at his ivory mask. Behind it, the frenzied screeching of bats filled the air, along with the screams of the Death Eater.

“Stupefy!” panted Ginny, and the robed figure fell back, unconscious.

A second figure hurtled past, Remus Lupin fighting three Death Eaters at once, his wand flipping from one target to another like quicksilver, the intricate wand movements belying the Marauder’s dueling skill, despite his old age. Not for nothing had he been a major figure among the Marauders. Sirius and James had considered his charmwork on a par with them…unlike Pettigrew.

There was a bang like a gunshot, and one of the Death Eaters fell back, blood spilling from somewhere within his robes. Ginny pointed her wand at the second of Lupin’s two opponents, and coolly blasted him to the ground with “IMPEDIMENTA!”

From the corner of her eye, she saw the red jet of sparks streaking towards her. She turned, the Shield Charm on her lips, her nimble body twisting away from the spell, but even as she tried to avoid it she knew she wouldn’t make it…

Then a figure topped by a crown of tousled, black hair threw itself into the path of the spell. A flick of a wand, and the spell ricocheted into the sky. Then the black-haired figure resumed his duel.

Harry was dueling a Death Eater whose mask had fallen off in the fight. Rodolphus’s skull-like grin was uncovered by the flapping cloak.

Ginny yelled “Stupefy!” but Rodolphus sent the spell zooming back at her without so much as a wave of his wand. She ducked the jinx, tripped and fell onto the ground, but her distraction had given Harry the opportunity to Stun Rodolphus with a jinx of his own.

Harry hurried to her side. She felt his hand on her forearm, looked up into his concerned face.

“You’re all right, Gin?” he whispered anxiously. “Did he hit you?”

He’d called her by his pet name for her. Gin. He hadn’t called her that since the funeral.

She wrenched herself to her feet, wand gripped tightly in her hand. “I’m fine,” she said shortly, but her voice was soft. Tender. Totally unlike what it had been the past few months.

“We’re winning,” said Harry, with a wry smile. “We’re actually…”

She saw it coming behind his back. Shoving him roughly aside, she yelled “PROTEGO!” and focused on casting the strongest Shield Charm of her life.

The bronze yellow bolt blasted through the Shield Charm, striking her wand-arm and slamming into her shoulder and body with the full force of a troll’s club. Her knuckles popped, every single one of them. Blood flew into the air. Ginny gasped and swore in agony, but most of the Blasting Curse’s fury had been blocked by her Shield Charm.

Harry caught her as she staggered back, his left arm supporting her while his right arm gripped his wand, tip pointed at the threat that bore down on them like a snake stalking its prey.

“Most impressive,” hissed Voldemort, wand out and pointed at Harry and Ginny. “Most impressive indeed.”

“This ends today, Voldemort,” said Harry, but Ginny could feel the quiver in his voice. He was scared, she saw. He was positively frightened. But not for himself.

For her.

She got to her feet, and pointed her wand shakily at the evil thing that stood before them. Blood dripped down her hand and either fell to the ground or ran down her arm to her elbow, soaking into her sleeve.

“Go,” said Harry, teeth clenched.

“No.”

“GO!” he said, louder.

“I won’t leave you, Harry,” said Ginny firmly. “Whether you like it or not.”

“You Gryffindors and your pathetic bravery,” interrupted Voldemort silkily. “Your foolish bravado won’t help your little brood-mare one tiny bit, Potter. You’re still mine. You always have been.”

“Funny,” said Harry, “anyone with half a brain would’ve managed to kill me as a baby. Oh, that’s right,” he said, smiling slightly, “you’re half-blood. Imagine that, Slytherin’s heir is a half-blood. Salazar must be turning in his grave, that his descendant should be half-Muggle…”

“ENOUGH!” screamed Voldemort. His pale snake-like face was livid with fury. He waved his wand in a wide, sweeping arc. A flickering, purple, fiery string of energy snaked out from the tip, and he swung it in front of him like a whip. Flourishing his wand, Voldemort brought his whip high above his head, and then slammed it down at the pair in a quick movement.

Harry and Ginny both yelled “PROTEGO!” but the incoming wave of energy shattered their shields and crashed into both their bodies.

Ginny’s split knuckles were on fire, and she struggled to maintain her balance as the wave rolled over her, smothering her, as she tried to draw breath into suddenly-scorching lungs. Her wand spun away somewhere, every bone and muscle in her body was on fire, her limbs felt as if they were separating and joining up again in wrong configurations, knee to shoulder, elbow to ankle…

Then the wave passed over her, and, too weak to hold herself up, she fell, tumbling like a rag doll in the dust.

There was a grunt from nearby, and Harry’s limp body was flung down next to hers. Blood trickled down from a head wound somewhere, matting his untidy black hair, welling in the creases of his scar, streaming in tiny rivulets down his grimy face.

“Harry,” she whispered feebly, trying to lift her hand, willing her fingers to travel two feet forward and touch his forehead.

Footsteps crunched in the gravel. Tom Marvolo Riddle, alias Lord Voldemort, stood over his two vanquished opponents.

“Y…your Horcruxes are destroyed, T-Tom…” gasped Harry. “You’re mortal now. Anyone can kill you.”

“Fool,” he spat. “Haven’t you learned anything in your precious Mudblood school? You haven’t destroyed me. No-one has managed to destroy the Dark Lord.”

He raised his wand, pointed straight at Harry. “And no-one will.”

“NOOOOOOOOO!” came a piercing cry from somewhere, and Neville Longbottom leapt onto Voldemort from behind. Ginny had no idea where his wand had gone, but Neville, bare-handed, was wrestling Voldemort down into the dirt, his right fist bunched and striking like a jackhammer into Voldemort’s frail body.

The Dark Lord doubled up like the covers of a book; Neville delivered an uppercut to his chin, snapping Voldemort’s head back with a wicked crack, throwing his robed body to the ground at least six feet away. Neville dived after him.

But he had made a mistake here. Voldemort still had his wand. Panting, sitting on the grass, Voldemort flicked his wand at Neville, as he lunged towards Voldemort. The green jet of sparks that flew from the wand-tip commanded Ginny’s attention.

“Neville, look out…NO!” she screamed, her lungs on fire with the effort. The next few moments were misted over by the tears that suddenly flooded her eyes.

The light connected with Neville Longbottom’s chest, and with a small grunt he went spinning into the dirt. He looked calm, composed…almost as if he was at peace. His hands fell neatly by his side, and he looked as if he was arranged in orderly fashion in a coffin.

What peace there is in death, thought Ginny bitterly, irreverently.

From behind, Sturgis Podmore cast a spell at Voldemort; casually the robed figure turned, deflected it and threw a curse almost nonchalantly back at the Order of the Phoenix member. Sturgis fell to the ground with a choked-off cry, his thatch of hair standing upright from the force of the Blasting Curse that had shivered and broken every single one of his limbs.

By her side, Harry tried to sit up, his robes torn and ragged, the lens of his glasses shattered. It was a miracle the flying glass hadn’t cut his eyes to pieces. His wand lay by his side, and he reached agonizingly for it.

Voldemort kicked his fingers aside, his wand pointing straight at Harry’s throat.

“And so it ends, Potter,” said Voldemort. He flicked his wand.

Ginny wrenched herself up, propelling herself forward with incredible force that came from some reserve somewhere she had thought long exhausted. She flung herself at Voldemort, knocking his wand off-aim, screaming “PROTEGO!” in defiance.

The spell shot at Ginny at eye level, searing-hot, streaking past her head, blazing a superheated path in the air like a wild forest fire, and tearing a scream of agony from her raw throat. Stars exploded in Ginny’s head, her face was on fire, a million tiny pinpricks crucifying her skin and the world went black around her, even as she heard Voldemort shrieking as his own spell rebounded on himself off of Ginny’s wandless Shield Charm…


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Hot tears trickled down her face. The memories, the heartbreak, the anguish as her friends fell one by one… Neville’s peaceful demeanour, finding the calm and rest in death he had never found in life…

She became aware of the goblin who stood at her elbow; Fangmar, her immediate superior. She became aware of the snapped and splintered walking stick in her hands. Ginny wondered how it had torn itself in two; it was sometime before it dawned that she had wrenched it into pieces.

“You’ve got a slight touch of the flu, Miss Weasley,” said Fangmar, in his gruff but kindly voice. “It’s a slow day, Ginny, why don’t you go home early? Get some rest, you’ll catch dragon-pox if you continue thus and then where will we be without your expert hands? Go on.”

Amid her protests, Fangmar wrote a memo to Bill, asking him to collect her and bring her home as she wasn’t feeling well. Then, he gave the excuse that he, too, needed to go home early and left Ginny to pack.

He understood. Oh, yes, he understood.

Ginny was furious at herself for breaking down at work. In the meantime, most of ‘it’ had passed over her, fading like the wispy remnants of a dream, and her tears dried and caked on her cheeks. Slowly, she packed her bag and decided to bring the paperwork home with her. It was the least she could do.

The specialized Braille diamond scales for blind wizards and goblins went into her drawer; the ledgers and accounts books written neatly in English and Gobbledygook (but easily transformable into Braille with the tap of a wand) were stuffed into Ginny’s bag. She brushed a finger over her Braille watch; it was pointed at four o’ clock.

“Hey, Snug,” said Bill’s soft voice. “You okay?”

Ginny nodded, stifling a sob. She did not look up. What was the point, when all was darkness?

“It came again, didn’t it,” said Bill quietly. He moved to sit down on the arm of the easy chair, and Ginny felt an arm snake around her and pull her closer. It was okay, the cubicles were fairly private and Ginny liked to cast Silencing Charms around the area, as a form of privacy.

She nodded.

Bill produced a handkerchief, and offered it to her. The last time he’d done so was just after the incident at the Chamber of Secrets. She’d cried a long while, then. Bill had held her close, and tucked her into bed that night. Since then, Ginny had never cried, excepting that time at Dumbledore’s funeral. Even when she had been informed of her condition…

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


T hey were whispering around her. The greyness cleared from her sight, and Ginny Weasley started awake, her eyelids fluttering open, shaking her head to clear the cobwebs from her brain.

She lay on a soft bed, a pillow under her head and cotton sheets drawn up to her chest. Ginny opened her eyes wide, blinking slowly and deliberately.

But her vision remained an inky black. The darkness refused to clear.

She began to feel just a bit frightened. The ugly darkness reminded her of second-year, when Dementors had been on the Hogwarts Express and had come into the compartment. All had gone dark. For a moment then, she had even heard Tom Riddle’s soothing voice…

Gooseflesh broke out on her body, and she shuddered.

“Ginny? Ginny? You’re awake?” came a familiar voice by her side. A hand touched her forearm. The bed springs creaked as someone sat down by her side.

Suddenly frightened, startled by some unknown fear, she grabbed hold of the hand, managing to hold its’ wrist. It was strong, sinewy; she knew immediately that it was Bill’s.

“Bill?” she called out, in a high, quivering voice. “Is that you?” She clutched convulsively at his arm. “Where’s Harry…where’s everybody…where’re the lights…?”

“Yes, yes, it’s me, shhh, relax. Go back to sleep,” said Bill. A hand — an unseen hand — caressed her cheek and pushed her against the bedsheets.

She pushed it away roughly. “Where’s my wand?” she said. “Bill!”

“Ginny…you fought V-Voldemort…you need rest, Ginny,” said Bill’s voice. He sounded tired…defeated, even.

“Bill! What’s wrong…what’s happening…” she cried, struggling against his arms. She took in a deep breath, and yelled plaintively, “WHY CAN’T I SEE?”

Silence. Bill’s hand had withdrawn itself. Ginny turned her sightless eyes left and right; her sense of direction at least was unimpaired. She sensed Bill breathing, to her left; she also seemed to sense his eyes on her.

“Ginny,” said Bill, and it was more a sob than anything else, “y-you’ve had an accident.”

“What accident?” she demanded, flailing, trying to find his arm. Bill laid his hand on hers, and she gripped it determinedly. “Tell me!”

And yet she didn’t want to know. For her quick brain had come to a subconscious conclusion of why the horrible darkness surrounded her, and her subconscious suspicions began to rise to the surface. But she pushed it under deliberately, smothering the terrible realization as it grew bigger, like some ravenous plague.

The thought was in the back of her mind, and she didn’t want it to come to the fore…didn’t want to think it…for that would mean it was true.

“Ginny…the Healers tried…they’re still trying to find a cure…they…”

“For Merlin’s sake, Bill, TELL ME!” she screamed.

Bill was silent, and even Ginny was shocked at herself. She’d never shouted at anyone like that before.

But no recriminations came from Bill. No scoldings. No reprimands. No, what he said next was worse, much worse.

“A spell hit your eyes, Ginny. Some Dark curse. You blocked most of it with a wandless Shield Charm, but…but…your eyes were damaged, Ginny,” said Bill.

The thought burst into her brain, now that confirmation from outside sources had arrived.

“I’m…” began Ginny. She was speechless.

For a long while, she sat there, half-upright. Bill sat with her, holding her, letting her think…and hopefully come to terms with her new condition. Twice he opened his mouth to say something, but found there was nothing to say…

At last, she blinked once. It was the first time she’d blinked in half an hour.

“I see,” she said.

“Ginny,” began Bill, taking her limp hand in both of his, “you…”

“It’s okay, Bill,” she said softly. “I’m okay.”

And that was true. She was okay.


~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~


Ginny sniffled, and accepted the handkerchief. After a good cry, she felt just a little bit better.

“Feel better?” came Bill’s voice, from far away.

She nodded sadly.

“Come on, let’s get you home. I’m off early today, it’s perfectly okay.” Bill took her bag from under the desk, tapped the desk drawers to lock them and repaired her white-painted cane. Within moments she was ushered out of Gringotts and out in the bustling streets of Diagon Alley.

Bill, holding her hand and supporting her as she came down the marbled steps of Gringotts, said “I’ve owled the twins. They’ve closed early as well, and the fireplace is ready for you to Floo.”

Ginny smiled through her tears. “You were always the practical one, Bill. Charlie’s head was in the clouds along with the dragons, and Percy…”

Then she shut up, berating herself silently.

She felt Bill’s arm stiffen, then relax. But it was a forced relaxation. During a Death Eater raid on Gringotts, Percy — who had been there on personal business, namely dating Penelope Clearwater in Diagon Alley — had taken a curse meant for him, and died of his injuries. Bill had never forgotten that. Merlin only knew the stresses the Curse Breaker underwent, being big brother to the entire brood of rebellious and trouble-finding Weasleys.

Ginny resolved to lighten the load for him in future, for she knew he was close to breaking point.

“Here we are,” said Bill. “Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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