I'm Positive

Title: I'm Positive

Author: Sage Vale

Summary: They were on their honeymoon when they got the call. Character Death/Implied Self-Mutilation. One-Shot

Disclaimer: Of course this isn't JKR's. It's on Portkey.

A/N: Yes, I know some of you want to hurt me right now. I owe a chapter for each of my stories. I want to hurt me right now. But I was reading a story yesterday, and the ending sprouted a plot bunny. So….the result. By the way…there is a reason I don't give the bride's name for a while. Also, don't be fooled by the title; this is a very negative story. At least to some HP fans

~*~*~*~*~

They were on their honeymoon when they got the call.

Hawaii, one of the most romantic places in the world. Also, the home of a large wizarding community. They had been walking back to their hotel after a stroll on the beach when a concierge walked up to them.

“Mr. and Mrs. Potter. I'm terribly sorry to interrupt, and I know you requested no disturbances, but an urgent owl came today from a Mr. Weasley,” before Harry and his wife could object, the concierge shoved a letter into Harry's hands and hurried off before The-Boy-Who-Lived and his bride could respond. Said Boy-Who-Lived kissed his wife's forehead and walked off to read the letter in privacy. Barely a minute later, Harry rushed back to her side, his face paler than usual. He took her hands and practically dragged her to their room.

“Harry, what's going on?” his wife asked. Her husband ignored her until their hotel room door was closed. Harry took her hands and pulled her close. Before Mrs. Potter could open her mouth again, her husband Apparated to a flat in London, and she was forced to come along.

~*~*~*~*~

It was a total mob scene at a flat in Central London. There were Aurors everywhere inside. Harry and his wife Apparated into the living room of the flat, where a red haired man was being comforted by his mother on a couch. As soon as the Potters got their footing, the man gave Harry a brotherly hug.

“She's gone, mate,” his friend said. Harry's eyes were beginning to get a little red too. Harry gave his friend a pat on the back.

“I know Ron. Shh….” He never got any farther though. His wife pushed between him and Ron abruptly. Her eyes had a crazed look in them. She finally understood her husband's distress

“What are you talking about? She'll be right back….she just…went out for some air….it's so crowded in here…” then Mrs. Potter passed out.

Harry and Ron carried Mrs. Potter to a spare room. She had been in her room when she died. Her sheets were stained with blood, her wrists two jagged scabs. After brushing the hair away from her face, and kissing her forehead, Harry left his wife with Ron and went into her room.

It was almost like she hadn't….it was like she had just gone out. There were clothes everywhere, the bed was unmade, and there were clothes set out for her. But everything was a clue. The clothes that weren't in the drawers were all red, and a simple test would show that all the clothes had been white once. The bed was also covered in her blood. And the clothes that had been set out were black, obviously what she wanted to be buried in.

Her body was lying peacefully among the rumpled sheets. She was wearing her old Gryffindor robes, which barely fit, showing off much of her legs and arms. Her hair was wild, as it had always been, and was all over the place. Other than that, she was perfect. Her face was made up beautifully; her clothes had not a wrinkle underneath all the blood.

She had the face of an angel, and Harry felt the old tug of attraction. It was overshadowed by the repulsion he felt. He had seen enough, but when he turned around for one last look, he saw an envelope on top of the funeral clothes. It was from her; the curvy script had a name on the envelope. As Harry picked it up and brought it closer, he could see the name on the envelope: Harry.

~*~*~*~*~

Dearest Harry,

I'm guessing that, if you're reading this letter, I'm dead. I never beat around the bush, did I? Well, I'm afraid that now, more than ever, I must be terribly blunt with you.

We always had a connection. Ever since we met in 1^st year, I have had an enormous crush on you. I know you think it's just a celebrity crush; you are Harry Potter, after all. But, no, it's not. I've loved you since I first met you. I didn't always know it was love and not just lust, but after 6^th year, I knew it was love. However, you were on the hunt for Voldemort, so I figured it wasn't the right time.

`He'll come around. When Voldemort's gone, we'll be together. I'm positive.'

Then you defeated Voldemort, but you were also gravely wounded. I know how you longed to play professional quidditch, but that battle ruined it for you. When I got the news, I hurried to St. Mungo's. I wanted to be the one you saw when you woke up, and be the first person who you smiled at. It was our time; I could feel it in my heart. But, before I opened the door to your room, I heard voices. I quietly opened the door. She was there, talking to you. It was her you had seen when you first woke up, and she was the one you were smiling at.

At first glance, I shrugged it off. `They're friends; it's only natural he enjoys her company. As soon as I make my entrance, he'll be all mine. I'm positive.'

Then you did the unthinkable. You kissed her.

To say I was appalled was an understatement. When I saw you kiss her, I ran to the nearest loo and emptied my stomach. I couldn't believe it. I was supposed to be the one you were kissing.

Of course, I didn't tell you that. After dry heaving for a few minutes, I cleaned myself up and walked into your room. You were still talking to her. I made myself known, and, as I predicted, you forgot all about her. I couldn't help it; I smiled at her smugly. She might have gotten your first moments, but I was the one who would have you for the rest of our lives.

But you were still hurt, I could tell. It was like you had forgotten your place in my life. Even after several months , when you had already left St. Mungo's, you were distant towards me. I tried everything; I practically dropped friggin anvils on your head! But you still were far away from anything that included me. Then came that dinner at the Burrow. The one where I found out that you were engaged…..to her.

`It's nothing,' I told myself, `He's just forgotten himself. I know that, by tomorrow, he'll break it off and come running back to me. I'm positive.'

But you were too stupid to know what you were supposed to do. You kept playing the happy fiancée, and you avoided me even more. What was wrong with you? Had that battle completely altered your mind? You were NOT supposed to be with her. However, I still had hope. Whenever I saw you, I noticed the looks you sent towards me. They were filled with longing and love. Like you wanted to be with me, but something was keeping you bound to her.

When her big day came, I was overjoyed. I had figured out your plan: You were going to wait until the vows, then say `I don't.' Then, we were going to ride off into the sunset, using the horse she had gotten for your farewell ride. I stood there as the Maid of Honor, and when the vows came, I was practically radiating with joy.

Then, everybody became deaf. When you said your vows, where I heard `I don't', everyone else heard `I do.' It was quite sad really; I saw the look of horror on your face as she kissed you, sealing the marriage. I had expected you to push her off and declare your undying love for me, but you didn't. You let her kiss you, just like you let her wrap her arms around you as you rode off on the horse. As you disappeared over the horizon, I felt a chill in my heart. What had you done? You had let her take you away. I suddenly didn't want you anymore. You were too weak. You could never stand up to anyone; it was a miracle you defeated Voldemort. But, without the thought of you coming to me, I had nothing left to live for.

I know this is a preferred method of Muggle suicide. After I finish this letter, I'll put it on top of the clothes I would very much like to be buried in. Then, I shall send an owl to my family, telling them to come over immediately.

All because of you. So now, Harry Potter, I have to say some very important things to you.

I hate you, Harry James Potter. I hate you because you let her love you. I hate you because you let her take you away from me.

I know that this letter will show you the error of your ways. I know you will feel unimaginable guilt, followed by the rush of love I know you always felt. I'm positive.

With All the Love and Hatred in my Heart,

Ginevra Molly Weasley

~*~*~*~*~

To say Harry was shocked was an understatement. To hear, sort of, that Ginny had always loved him…

However, instead of that rush of guilt and love Ginny had been so positive of, Harry felt pity and rage. Pity that this bright young woman had wasted so much of her life pining away for him. Rage that she had been so sure that his love for Hermione had been false. Harry wanted to break something, so he did. He took that long, emotional letter that Ginny had written, and ripped it up. He ripped the letter into pieces until they were too small for him to rip. Then he dumped the confetti in the trash can. But even though the letter was beyond repair, the words would always stay with him.

Harry walked out of Ginny's room. This time, he didn't look back.

End

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