Since overhearing the brief conversation between the two, Ginny had fallen into a daze.
Although she had told Harry then that she had no regrets, Ginny clearly had not been mentally prepared to bear all this.
The cruel truth had crushed her.
Even her feelings for Harry were not enough to support her in pulling herself together again.
Ginny liked Harry. There was no doubt about that.
But upon learning that Harry was very likely to die in the near future, she truly could not accept it, nor could she understand why things had turned out this way.
Ginny had once wanted to loudly question Harry, to ask why he had to be the one who died.
But Harry's indifference toward life and death made Ginny swallow all her words.
For the first time, she hated The Boy Who Lived so much, hated that damned title.
Once, Ginny had admired Harry immensely because he was The Boy Who Lived, but now that identity had brought death upon him.
Everything was so hopeless that Ginny nearly went mad. The happiness she had finally grasped had slipped through her fingers without her noticing.
"Ginny, I'm coming in!"
Hermione knocked open the door. Seeing the red-haired girl sitting on the bed with her knees hugged to her chest, sobbing uncontrollably, she took out a handkerchief and handed it over, gently patting her back in an attempt to offer some comfort.
"How did it come to this?" Ginny looked up at Hermione, her face streaked with tears.
"I'm sorry. I know this news is hard for you to bear, but I thought you would want to know," Hermione murmured.
"Do the others know?" Ginny asked as she took the handkerchief and wiped away her tears.
"They don't. Harry never intended to tell anyone about