Part One


I’ve missed you.


It has been nearly four weeks since the funeral of the greatest headmaster Hogwarts School has ever seen. Most of my family believe that my outbreaks of tears are for him. It would make it easier if that were true. Only the younger of my brothers knows the truth. Or at least, his take on it. 

My name is Ginnevra Molly Weasley. Most everyone who knows me calls me Ginny. A few use other names, some kinder than others. 

Until that fateful day, four weeks ago, I was most proud to have been known as the girlfriend of “the-boy-who-lived”. They were, and still remain in my heart, happy times. Troubled, but nonetheless, happy.

Out of all my family, I am sure only Ron is aware of part of the feelings we displayed. We do talk, occasionally, about the fun we had as a group. We falter and grow quiet when we come onto that sorrowful night, when we could so very nearly have lost everything.

I find ways to get around it, though. I lie, when pressed about Harry Potter, as to whether I’ll be glad to see him when he arrives from his Aunt and Uncles. On the outside, I show nothing but indifference. Inside, I ache constantly. I breakdown in tears whenever I do something and think about what he’d say about it.   I’ve even stopped flying. Silly, I know.

Hermione Granger is staying with us now. She’d told my parents that she was here to help with the wedding arrangements. I know she is also part of the new plan to get Harry here in one piece. No matter the cost.

I overheard her and Ron talking about a search they’d be carrying out. No details, though. Been getting nothing but a ringing in my ears whenever I go up to see either of them recently. Hope they’re catching up on lost time. After this past years fiascos, they deserve happiness. Hermione does anyway, not too sure Ron is there yet.

I leave the quiet of my room. A lasting look on the trophies of past adventures. The little bottle that had contained Felix Felicis. The badge from the Ministry. A basilisk fang. Not really trophies in the normal sense. Just… reminders.

The lamps are all ablaze in the kitchen. Home (The Burrow) had been a hive of activity. The remaining active members of the Order of the Phoenix had come and gone to collect “The Chosen One”. Mum and I were to remain behind. Mum to keep the fires burning ready for their return. Being underage, I had to stay.

I swear this is the last time that happens. I can see why Harry did not want to keep us together. The look on my mums face terrifies me. I remember what he said last, on the lakeside. I’d hate to see that look on his face.

A flash of blue appears in the yard. We both dart outside. A lone, rusty oilcan rocks on the gravel. Fear and disappointment build rapidly. We head back into the house.

Another flash. Same rise in tension. Something went wrong.

Another flash. Only this time with shadows. I dare not breathe. Mum beats me to the door. Two familiar shapes are stood in the night. My heart is beating so hard it feels like its trying to punch out of my chest. I hear the tone and voices. I do not, dare not, take it in. HE MADE IT.

And whole. He looks like he’s been through hell. Hagrid's looked better. 

Another flash of blue. Remus Lupin and George. Something is definitely wrong here. Harry’s off like a shot to help his old teacher with my brother. I love that about him. Always ready to help others, no matter his condition, or the cost to himself.


The next few minutes are a blur. Like being in a nightmare. George is horribly injured. Lupin is shouting at Harry. I’m numb with shock. Can’t move, can’t think. Mum forces me back to helping with my brother.


More shouting from outside this time. Hermione and Kingsley Shacklebolt. I look to Harry. He keeps staring at Georges missing ear. (Look at me, please.)

As if in answer, he does. His eyes clouding over. Tears fighting to show through. He composes himself. (That’s it. Use me for strength, as I am you.) (I’d hug you right now.)

Before we make a move more shouting erupts. This scares the life out of me. I’ve never heard dad yell at anyone like this, not even Fred and George.

I keep my eyes fixed on Harry. (I know what you are thinking, but don’t. None of this is your fault.) He motions out of the door. The same tilt of the head as in the Gryffindor common room. He leads, I follow. I take his hand, its cold as ice, like the night Dumbledore died. I squeeze it. (I’ve missed you.) He squeezes back, warmth returning to his grip. 


We join the quiet vigil for the rest of the Order. Hermione looks lost, her face a near copy of mums earlier.  Lupin just stands there, hard to read.

Ron and Tonks finally arrive. They both stagger into the arms of their loved ones, Tonks-Lupin, Ron-Hermione. I run inside and fetch my parents.

A loud screech has us looking to the skies. A thestral (wish I could see them) carrying Bill and Fleur touches down near the rest of us. Bill looks haggard. Fleur dances off the creatures back and lands lightly. 


“Mad-Eyes dead.”

The profoundness of those simple words hits everyone. Bill is leading us back into the house, collecting a bottle of firewhisky and producing several glasses.

A toast was drunk. I can’t remember who said what after that. I just sit there, watching Harry, not particularly listening to what he was saying. How he was saying it was making my blood run cold. The look in his eyes is the same as when he made his decision four weeks ago. Only this time he’s outnumbered. (You’re not running off, not ever.)

Outflanked by both mum and dad, Harry agreed to stay put. He looked ashen. (I’ve seen that before.) He goes outside, followed a short while later by his two longest-known companions. I decide it’s time to sleep, and bid goodnight to all.

Happy seventeenth.

I didn’t hear Hermione go to bed, even though she’s been sharing my room since she arrived. Mum got us up early, ready to start on the days chores. Most of mine seemed to involve being nowhere near Harry.

This was the case until the third day of Harrys stay. We wound up being detailed to set the table for about a dozen people. Normally I would’ve jumped at this, but I’d been nosing through Hermiones notes. Little did I realise their impact.

I told him my suspicions about mums behaviour towards the three of them. The reaction from him confirmed my worst fears. He tried to pass it off as a joke, looking directly into my eyes. (I never want to hear you joke about facing Voldemort. You mean too much to me.)

I’m sure he got the message, because he didn’t say a thing to me for the rest of the day.

Indeed, the next time we had time together, it was July 31st.

Harrys birthday.

It had come round so quick. Between the arrangements for the wedding and avoiding Rons accusing gaze, I’d nearly forgotten about it. The commotion coming from the attic room rudely reminded me. I had nothing for him.


“Yes, Ginny?”

“Can you help me get Harry on his own after breakfast?”

“I’ll take care of Ron for you.”



I love Hermione like a sister. She’s been there for me when I needed her. Her advice proved useful (Like so you can get with the boy you’ve fancied since the day you first saw him), and I’ve never been able to help her, yet.


I listen to Harry and Ron head downstairs; watch as Hermione goes down too, her own present in her hands. I wash and get dressed. Nothing too complex. I hear them coming back up, something about pants?

"Harry, will you come in here a moment?"  I glance at Hermione (It's now or never.)

For a split second, it looks like Ron is going to ruin this moment, but I see Hermione take him in hand.  I’m going to owe her a lot.

I lead Harry into my room. (You should feel privileged.) I turn back to face him. (Why are you looking out of the window?) I take a deep breath.


“Happy seventeenth.” (Didn’t sound too bad.)

“Yeah…thanks.” (Not what I was expecting, but I’ll have to work on it.)

“Nice view.” (Oh now you’re annoying me Harry James Potter.)

“I couldn’t think what to get you.”


“You didn’t have to get me anything.” (Now you look at me? I love you.)

I don’t remember what happened next, but before I knew it I was once again kissing Harry Potter. Trying to convey how I felt about him using my mouth and hands. I could feel he felt the same way, in the way he was responding.

Then my idiot brother goes and ruins this perfect moment. I don’t blame Hermione. Curiosity got the better of him, I suppose.

We jumped apart.

“Well, happy birthday, anyway.”

And that was the end of it. I turned away, trying not to show the boy I loved, or my idiot brother, the tears now forming in my eyes. After all his pain, I didn’t want to give Harry anymore, but I was too late in some respects.

“I’ll see you later.” Then I heard the three of them heading downstairs and out into the yard.

If my window had not been open, I may not have heard what was said. But it was. And I did. The floodgates opened for the first time since the journey back from Hogwarts. (Get a grip girl. Put on a brave face for the rest of the family.)

I emerged sometime around lunchtime. The only ones who knew fully why, were the four of us. I made sure it appeared to have been a friendly conversation we had shared, nothing more. Nearly gave the game away at the birthday party, both before, and after, the Ministers meeting with Harry, Ron and Hermione.

I cried myself to sleep that night. No one heard me; I used one of the spells from that potions book that had been the cause of so much trouble last year.


The wedding.


The most perfect day, nearly ended in total disaster. Don’t get me wrong, it started well enough. Plans had been made for a suitable disguise and cover for Harry. Everyone at the Burrow knew what to say and how to act if he was mentioned, even in passing.

My own biggest concern, was me.  Would I be able to stop myself from looking at him as anyone other than he was supposed to be?

I needn’t have worried. Luna Lovegood nearly did it for me. Bless her. Forgotten we’d invited her and her father. She’d spotted him before he’d even opened his mouth. Oh well. No one was listening.

I got ready with Fleurs sister, Gabrielle. Our dresses matched right down to the choice of shoes. 

Going down the aisle with Fleur, I couldn’t resist a quick look over at Harry. (This could be us, someday.) He seemed quite taken with the whole affair. Must have made a change being at a wedding rather than a funeral.

The balloons burst and the dancing began.

I’d have liked to have spent time dancing with himself, but for his stupid promise to my brother.

It turns out this probably saved his life. I remember the lynx patronus. I knew it was Kingsleys. I heard the voice. Then shouts. After that, nothing till I came round. Turns out I’d been Stunned. Most of the guests had Disapparated. The one I needed to see was nowhere. Nor was Ron, or Hermione.

We were all questioned on the spot by a couple of great thug-like Death Eaters. No one knew what they wanted. They didn’t even ask about Harry. Not down on the list. As if we’d have been daft enough to put it on in the first place.

As far as any member of the immediate Weasley family has been concerned for a good number of years, Harry is family. He would not have needed to be on any list. 

They finished up by searching the house for any sign of extra persons. All they found was the ghoul in Rons room, and gave it an extremely short visit. Spattergoit, need to thank Hermione and Ron for that little idea.


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