Hold On

“It's so clear now that you are all that I have” - You’re All I have, Snow Patrol



It’s cold, so very cold. My eyes are clamped shut against the pain that invades my body ruthlessly. I don’t know where I am, or how I got here, but I want to go home. I can hear people whispering all around me, and screaming, the screaming is unbearably loud. The voices are crowding around me, slipping in and out of my head like dreams I once held dear. I can tell that not all the words are really whispered, but my mind is foggy. One thing is certain; the people around me are in pain, maybe as much as I am.

“Gin.”

One of the voices speaks a little clearer above the rest. I can tell that the speaker isn’t used to being as quite as they are. But the softness, the tender pleading of the voice calls to me, singing to me. Whoever it is, they’re close to me. I can feel warm air on my face; I think it’s their breath.

“Gin, don’t leave me.”

For as much as I wanted to go, not even ten seconds ago, their voice makes me want to stay. How strange, that just a voice would have that kind of power over me. I don’t want to leave, I want to stay. Whoever is talking, and holding me, is crying. I can feel it in the way their voice shakes just so. I feel like I should know this voice, like I should know it as well as I know my own, or at least as well as one who loves me. Yes! That’s it! Whoever this person is, they must love me. But why are they so sad?

“Ginny, angel, please, stay with me.”

Stay? Yes, yes, I want to stay! But…but I don’t understand. How can I not stay? Where would I go? I don’t even know where I am to begin with. How could I possibly go anywhere when I can’t open my eyes, when I can’t move? I can feel panic growing within me, and it burns more than it did before. My heart is crashing over and over, and even in my barely conscious state I can hear an earth-shattering scream from somewhere close by. Oh, I think I understand now. The scream, it wasn’t just close. No, not close, not at all. The sound, the cry, it came from me, it was ripped form my own lips.

I understand now where he, because I can tell it’s a he, doesn’t want me to go. He doesn’t want me to go, as in to heaven, or whatever else is waiting for me. I think I’m dying. I can feel the way my chest rises, drawing in air, shuddering in pain. I’ve never felt like this before, which isn’t surprising, as I’ve never died before.

I can hear his breathing now above my own. His lips are pressed tightly to the side of my face. I can feel a hot wetness slide down my cheek, and I realize it must be tears, although he is not crying loudly.

“Please,” he whispers, “please don’t take her away from me. She’s all I have left.”

I’m all he has left, am I? Well then this must be horrible for him! I wish I knew who he was. Hell, I wish I knew who I was, although I assume my name is Ginny, or Gin, if you will, as that’s what he keeps calling me.

“Just hold on, Ginny, please hold on.”

I don’t know what he expects me to hold on to, because I try moving my fingers, before realizing I have absolutely no control over them. Besides, the more he talks, the less I understand.

Slowly, I can feel some small part of me begin to slip away. I’m so confused. I want to hold on and do as the voice is asking me to do. I don’t want to leave him; that fact is very clear in my mind. Yet, somehow, it’s like I have no choice.

It takes me a second, but then, everything comes slamming back into me. I can tell that I am no longer breathing. Yet, ironically, I find that I can open my eyes. When I do however, I want nothing more than to close them again.

I can remember who I am, or maybe it’s too late for who I am, maybe now, it’s who I was. All around me, I can see the war raging on. I can see the souls of other people whispering around, slinking in and out of the alive. There are others who are kneeling beside their bodies, refusing to believe that they are actually dead. More souls are coming into my view by the minute.

Ah yes, war. On some sad and sickening level, it’s a beautiful thing to see the shimmering souls, but that doesn’t mean I want to. I doubt anyone does.

“No! No!”

I think he’s realized now. I think Draco has figured it out that he’s holding onto my lifeless body. I didn’t know you could hurt when you died, but apparently you can because my heart aches for him.

He pulls my body closer, his hand running through the tangled and dirty mass of my red hair. Over and over again he keeps crying, demanding that I come back. Oh Draco, I wish that I could.

“What are you doing here, Gin?”

I spin around, trying to find where the voice is calling from, and who it is that can see me. I think that if I could have, I would have died again when I saw his face. There, in the same glowing paleness that encompasses me is my brother, Charlie. Mum’s heart is going to break when she finds out she’s lost more than one of her beloved children.

“Ginny? Hullo?” Charlie says as he waves a transparent hand in front of my face.

“You’re… you’re dead then too?” I ask meekly, bring my eyes back to focus on him. I don’t want to accept that my brother has died, even though I have too.

“Aye,” he responds.

I can still imagine his gentle smile lighting his blue eyes, even though the color is muted and washed out.

“But,” he interrupts my moment of nostalgia, “yarn’t supposed to be, Gin.”

I break out laughing at the absolute absurdity of what he just said. Of course I’m not supposed to be dead, but neither is he, and neither are all the other countless souls flying around our heads.

“Your time isn’t yet up. Look, Ginny,” he commands, pointing towards where my still body lays.

I turn, I don’t want to look, but I turn just the same. The scene is as I thought it would be. Draco is still sitting, knees covered in mud, and his once crisp gray shirt is stained with my blood. He’s cradling my body to his chest, still shaking and crying into my hair.

I have never seen him like this before, never has he broken like this before my eyes, and it scares me. I had always counted on Draco to be the strongest of the strong: cool and composed when everyone else was falling to shreds. He is the only reason I was able to stay sane during my time on the front lines.

Shaking my head, I realize I would have been crying if souls were able to do so. It isn’t safe for him to stay like this, exposed and out in the open. If one of the Death Eaters sees him, he’ll be joining me soon. I want him to stay alive more than anything.

But there is also something there that wasn’t there before. It’s small, shimmering in a shade of gold I have never seen before. A delicate thread is leading off of my body. I follow it with my eyes, amazed to see that it ends in a stunning ring around my left wrist. How had I missed that before?

“Follow it back, Ginny,” Charlie urges in my ear.

“But what about you?” I ask even as I begin tugging on the thin golden thread.

“It’s a bit late for me, Gin, but ya’ need to go back. That sorry bloke needs you something fierce.”

I nod, continuing to float closer to my body, the golden line growing smaller and brighter all at the same time.

“Quick, Gin!” Charlie urges. “You have to move quick before it runs out.”

I turn back towards him one last time, standing close enough to Draco and my body that I could have reached out and run my hand through Draco’s pale and messy hair.

“I’m going to miss you, Charlie,” I whisper, my eyes locked with my brother’s.

Charlie smiles and I swear I can see the color returning to his eyes.

“I know, Ginny-Bee,” he blows me a kiss and gives me a wink. “Give them all my love.”

I nod my head again, the distance between us growing greater by the second, and his image beginning to fade from my view.

“Goodbye, little sister.”

Before I can so much as open my mouth to tell him how much I love him, my soul is being twisted and dragged, slamming back into the ground with such force that a gasp is forced again from my lips.

Draco, still holding me, jumps. His hands move immediately to my face, brushing back my bangs and the dirt that covers my freckles.

“Ginny?” he questions carefully. I can hear in his voice how much he wants to believe what he is seeing, but also the fear that is all some cruel trick.

My eyes flutter open, and I try my best to flash him a weak smile. My chest aches as it is once again forced to draw in shaking breaths.

Draco’s face melts as he begins to pepper my face with kisses from his dry and cracked lips.

“Thank you,” he whispers, over and over again.

With trembling hands, I reach out to stroke his face. My eyes scan the battle field before us.

“Need to move,” I tell him, trying to draw myself up to a sitting position, before finding my body still to weak. But he seems to understand.

Carefully, as if I might break, Draco draws us both from the ground, pressing me as tightly to his chest as he can.

“It’s going to be alright,” he mummers, his words muffled by my hair. “I’m going to get you out of here, just hold on.”

I nod my head weakly before tucking it in underneath his chin. I trust him.

As we begin to move, and my eyes begin to adjust to the stinging light of a new day, I begin to cry. I grieve for the lost souls I know to be floating around us, and for those who are still going to die before this fight is finished. I sob, achingly for my brother, thanking whatever god is listening for sending him to me, for showing me how to get back to the land of the living.

Just as I am about to close my eyes, I see a flicker of red hair and sea blue eyes. I’m scared for a moment, thinking that I am yet again losing my grip on a fragile life, but then I see Charlie smile.

“Be strong, Ginny-Bee,” he whispers before fading from my sight. Waving, I know that is the last I will see of my brother. As another breath draws itself angrily into my lungs, I can feel Draco’s hand lovingly brush against my cheek.

“Just hold on, love. Nearly there.”

“Love you,” I squeak, touching my lips carefully to his hand.

He smiles down at me, his eyes red as I have never seen them.

“You better,” he laughs, “you’re all that I have.”

Author notes: AN: And so ends the first story. None of the others will be connected to this one, but hey, I’m beginning to shy away from humor again. Thanks for reading :-)

The End.
Pipperstorms is the author of 21 other stories.
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