"Until death do us part," she said. She was standing in a beautiful dress in front of a man with green eyes and black hair on the big day.
She smiled, feeling a little crack running through her soul.
She smiled, while she could almost read the words she had written day to day in an old diary that answered her. They’d talked to each other. Many times. A thousand times. Tom Marvolo Riddle had made her smile, comforted her, taught her, helped her and owned her.
She smiled, remembering the catatonic state that had simultaneously been destructive and constructive, terrible and tempting; as she threw the diary into the toilet, but then searched desperately for it in the bed and drawer. For a single diary. In which flowers had bloomed from scribbled lies, evil plans and hesitant confessions. For a diary with a sixteen years old man inside it who an eleven years old girl had admired.
She smiled, while heartbeat echoed in her and a voice. His voice.
"I will always be with you, Ginny."
"Until death us do part," was it said by Harry or Him? She could not tell. It was like she saw him in the crowd. His face, his ice cold and dark eyes, his conniving smile, appearing and disappearing as a phantom.
She smiled, realizing she cannot get rid of him. She hadn’t been able before. The man had cut himself into her soul many years back and taken hold of a piece that would never be anyone else’s. Not even Harry’s.
She smiled. She hated to feel this way. She hated to miss him.
And she smiled, kissing Harry with the ring on her finger and scar in her soul.