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Dislcaimer: None of the characters mentioned herein belong to me. *shakes head* Nope, not mind, damn the bad luck. Belong to *her*…lucky woman that she is. So yeah, don't sue because well, I'm broke, so you won't get much from me. Just doing this for my own demented enjoyment.

It was over. The war was over and Lord Voldemort and his followers had been destroyed completely. The few that are able to escape the massacre had been hunted down in the days following.

Now...there was celebration. Celebration that grew to enormous proportions as more people from the wizarding community heard of the murder of Lord Voldemort. The fear fell back as more and more people left their houses and sanctuaries to gather in the street in celebration. Rich and poor, pure bloods and Muggle born alike.

All but one.

Harry separated himself from the crowd, knowing no one would realize he was gone and set out for the far end of the hill. At the moment, his mood was far from joyous. He had something he needed to do. Something he's been putting off for days.

Walking through the sparse trees, he came upon a small cemetery. Walking through, he stopped at the far headstone, and knelt down, looking at it sadly.

Virginia Anne Weasley
June 21, 1985 - October 15, 2008
Beloved daughter, sister, friend
Gave her life so others could live

"I'm so sorry, Ginny-kins." He whispered softly. The twins had called her that, and after she'd become a spy for him, he'd picked it up. More than not in the beginning because she hated it. Later, however, because she needed something to hold on to. And the nickname seemed to soothe her.

He had needed a spy. Someone who would willingly enter Voldemort's camp and find out everything they could about his plans and how to stop them. Ginny had eagerly accepted the job. At first, he had refused. But she was insistent. Who was better than the girl he'd tried to use to make a return, she had argued. She had a connection to him. She was the only one who could slip in and it be convincing. In the end, he had agreed. And she had gone.

Within a matter of months, she was Voldemort's consort, his left hand, Queen.
His Dark Goddess.

How he couldn't see what it was doing to her, he did not know. He didn't think about what she had to do to get where she did. He chose to ignore the details and instead focus on the information she loyally brought him.

He choked back a sob, his eyes blinding with tears. He'd failed her. He'd let that monster use her, twist her, corrupt her. He'd stood back blindly as Voldemort raped her, forced her kill, torture. And he couldn't even save her for the final blow the monster had dealt her. He was too late to save her.

"He didn't kill her." A soft voice echoed over the wind. Harry sat up, turning around, his vision still clouded from tears. In the shadows, a figure stood. Realizing they'd been seen, they stepped out into the moonlight.

Harry frowned. "Oliver?"

The athletic young man walked over to where Harry was sitting, stopping by the gravestone. Glancing down at it, he smiled briefly, and then turned his attention back to Harry. "He didn't kill her." He repeated softly.

Harry shook his head, his attention turning back to the headstone. "No offense Oliver, but you weren't there. I saw her body."

"You saw her body, true. But did you see him kill her?" He shook his head silently, looking back up at the young man. Sighing, Oliver sat down in the grass next to Harry.
"She killed herself. She knew he knew she had betrayed him. And she wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of killing her."

He frowned deeper. "But the spell came from his wand. It was aimed at her body."

"She spoke the spell. The diversion of you entering, gave her the time she needed. She spoke the spell herself." Oliver smiled at the unasked questions in the other man's eyes.
"I was her secret keeper."

"But...why you?"

Oliver shrugged. "She came to me a little after she'd joined up with Voldemort. I wasn't an essential part of the resistance. I was just a fighter. Outside Quiddich, No one really knows of me. No one would expect me to be a secret keeper for Lord Voldemort's Dark Goddess. I was the perfect choice."

Harry paled. He knew what the job of secret keeper entailed. "I'm sorry."

Oliver shook his head. "Don't be. I was honored. She loved you Harry. And anything to help defeat the monster who murdered half of her family, she was willing to do. Although, I admit, some of the things she came to me with still gives me nightmares, but you needed her. She knew it and I knew it. And she needed me."

Harry looked back at the headstone briefly. "I never allowed myself to think about what she had to do, what she had to go through to get the information she needed. What she had to endure to stay alive. I'm as bad as Voldemort. Sending an angel straight into Hell."

"I told you, she did it willingly." His face became solemn.

"She believed her soul was dammed anyway and this was her redemption."

"What?" Harry frowned at the older man. "That's ridiculous. Why would she think that?"

"She already had a bond with Riddle. She never forgot that and swore several times that she could feel him still in her head. This was her way to find redemption.
Harry sighed, shaking his head. "I'm sorry, but I can't forgive myself."

Oliver touched the young man's shoulder. "There isn't anything to forgive, Harry. We've won. Voldemort has been defeated. We're free. Ginny's free. She's found her peace. Now you need to find yours." Standing up, he held out a hand towards him.

After a moment, Harry reached up grabbing the other man's hand and hauling himself up. Looking back at the headstone, he placed a kiss on his fingertips, then on the top of the stone. "Fly free my angel," he whispered, then followed Oliver back to the world of the living.

End.

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