“Harry, you know that no one would blame you, right? Well, no one who really knows what happened.”
Harry looked tiredly at Ginny, who was propped up on a few pillows. “Blame me for… what?”
It wasn't a question of what he could be blamed for. It was, in fact, a question of what he… couldn't…be.
The hospital wing was dark at this hour. After basically breaking down in front of Dumbledore, and leaving Dumbledore’s office feeling a thousand times worse than he had been before entering it, he’d decided to stop by and check on his friends.
It wasn't like he could just go back to his dormitory and fall asleep like nothing had happened. In fact, sleeping was the last thing he wanted to do at that moment.
It turned out Ginny had gained consciousness. She’d smiled sadly upon seeing him. Neville had tried to say hello, but his nose was covered in bandages to keep it in one place, so he sounded more like a trumpet.
Now, Neville was drifting off into sleep, clearly indicated by his nodding head and lidded eyes.
Everyone else was sound asleep in their beds, knocked out by their injuries that Harry didn't want to think about. But he had to, because he’d caused them, and so he didn't get to ignore the damage and trouble he’d caused today.
He couldn't let himself off so easily. No one else could possibly do that, either… They had to all hate him now, even Ginny, who didn't seem angry now, but perhaps she was just tired like everyone was. Maybe it all hadn't hit her yet.
Maybe no one else even knew Sirius had died because of him.
Perhaps once everyone woke up tomorrow, they’d start avoiding him like the rest of the school had this entire year. Perhaps, once the DA found out, all the members would start ignoring him, too, then he’d be all alone.
These thoughts burned him so suddenly he bit his tongue, but a part of him felt… good. He’d done so much wrong… And more repercussions could only relieve him of his guilt.
Or perhaps just make it worse, if he had to be faced with reminders of his actions everyday.
Goodness, it was late. His thoughts were practically scrambled all over the place. Ginny was looking at him strangely, as though trying to formulate an answer that wouldn't send him off the edge.
He felt bad for placing such cautiousness in her.
“There’s nothing you can blame yourself for entirely, Harry,” Ginny finally said, sighing. She placed a hand on his arm, and he tried not to jump at the sudden extra warmth. “We all wanted to go with you, we couldn't let you face anything alone, even if it was a trap-”
Harry flinched at that word.
“-and if we get worse off, at least we faced it together. We’re a team now, if you didn't catch that.”
Harry simply stared at her, wanting to tell her that they didn't have to be a team, and that Voldemort’s trap had only been meant for him, but he felt too tired to argue with her now. He just wanted her to… stop. Nothing she said now could possibly change anything-
“You should rest, Ginny,” Harry muttered. A pain had nestled itself in his head again. He wondered how he hadn't noticed his headache continuing on in Dumbledore’s office.
Then, he winced, remembering the absolute disaster of a person he’d been in there just minutes ago.
He could still feel Ginny’s eyes on him when he made to get up. A headache he could deal with. But this back-and-forth, he couldn't face it now.
“Harry, listen.”
Harry stopped in his tracks against his will; Ginny’s voice was like an anchor keeping him there.
“I can't speak for anyone else, but,” there was a rustling of sheets, like Ginny was repositioning herself - Harry was suddenly reminded of her broken ankle - , “well, I don’t blame you. I could never blame you for wanting to save your godfather, because I think if I had been in your position, I would have done the same. Look, I care for Sirius too, okay? I- I cared.”
Oh. Oh, no, she knew. He could hear it in her voice - she wasn't just talking about why they’d rushed straight to the Department of Mysteries. She knew. She knew. Sirius was dead, and she knew-
Ginny’s voice was thick. “I cared for him too. But he’s not my godfather, he’s- he’s yours. And… I can't imagine what you must be going through…”
Harry struggled to find his voice. “Ginny-”
“You can't blame yourself for everything, Harry,” Ginny whispered, though her voice still carried over to his ears. “Please, don't blame yourself for his…”
The last word, unspoken, hung in the air.
And yet, she didn't know he still blamed himself for Cedric’s death. “Please stop.”
“Don't close yourself off,” Ginny said, slightly louder, rising in emotion, sounding as though she was close to tears. Harry finally turned around, and saw that her eyes were glistening in the candlelight. “Sirius chose to rescue you, like how we chose to come along with you. Anyone could have died!”
“Ginny,” Harry interjected softly, “Please, stop.”
Something burned the corners of his eyes and he knew they were tears. Ginny’s brows were furrowed, her usual fiery attitude shrouded in distress.
Harry himself felt so, so tired.