Prologue: Out with the Rubbish

I woke up to the rush of air filling my lungs and feeding the oxygen to my brain. That, and the sound of screaming. I couldn't remember where I was or how I got there. I only had the feeling that I didn't want to know.

And who was screaming? Why wouldn't they shut up?

My body was finally registering with my brain. My limbs were tired, they couldn't move. Oh, Merlin, was I paralyzed? I looked about me and wiggled my toes and fingers- no, not paralysis. My legs and arms had been tied down to the bed. But where were my feet? I could still feel them, but I couldn't see them over my belly.

Over my massive belly.

My forehead was damp with sweat. My arms and legs had been immobilized. I couldn't see my feet over the huge swell of my abdomen. My throat was raw; I could feel at least that much. And that woman was still screaming. Wait a minute. The woman was me.

I was screaming. Why?

I drew a breath. What was happening to me? The door burst open, followed by hoards of men and women, all in the lime green healer's robes of St. Mungo's. They started waving their wands over me, checking my vitals and looking for damage.

"What's happening? Why am I in the hospital? Where's Harry? What happened to Voldemort?"

No one answered me. They just kept waving their wands and shuddering every time I mentioned Lord Voldemort. At least now I knew I didn't have amnesia. I knew I was in St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies. I knew that all the people in my room were witches and wizards, and that I was a witch myself.

I was a witch.

And if my memory served me correctly (as it had done so far) I was a damn powerful one. Where was my wand? I looked frantically around the room. There. On a table by the wall, along with picture frames and clean robes. I focused all my energy on it. It was maple, with Dragon Heartstring as the core.

'Accio wand!' I demanded. It flew to my hand, and the bustle about the room immediately stopped. Everyone stood silent, watching… waiting.

"Well, answer me!" I insisted, as I magically unbound myself.

No one did, until the door opened and a young girl walked in carrying fresh bed linens. An intern. The bright yellow robes signified her as such. The room was silent and so we all heard the soft, gentle humming that issued from her lips.

She turned and smiled to see me sitting up in my bed. "Ah, Miss Weasley!" she greeted me with a soft Scottish brogue. "So nice to see you're awake."

Immediately, the head healers in the room turned to shush her. But she was the only one talking- I did NOT want her silenced.

"You. Tell me what is going on. How long have I been here?"

"Me?" she squeaked. "I—uh, Miss Weasley, I—"

"Now." It was a whispered command, but it was nonetheless effective in the silent room. The head female healer buried her face in her hands while the lead male sagged into the visitor's chair by the door.

"I—all right, Miss Weasley. If you'll have a seat, I'll just change your linens and tell you all about it."

I nodded curtly. It was the least I could do, but I was not going to sit. I decided to help her change the linens. With a casual flick of my wand, the bed was stripped and the linens banished to the laundry bin in the corner.

"Well, how much do you remember?" she asked, rather clinically.

I thought about it. I didn't want to remember, but it all came flooding back.

Harry and I had been living together ever since I had finished at Hogwarts. Mum and Dad weren't happy, but they respected my decision. Harry's first attempt to vanquish Voldemort- just six months later- had failed. Ron died that night, among hundreds of others- including Fred, Charlie, Neville and Luna- and Hermione had never been the same. She immersed herself in work at the Ministry of Magic, and we never spoke much after that. Harry and I grieved for an appropriate amount of time, but then we went on with our lives. Nearly two years of Voldemort's tyranny later, and I found out I was pregnant. I hadn't wanted to have children any time soon. I was twenty and felt that I still had years ahead of me to live MY life without having to bring up a child.

Harry didn't feel quite the same. He had wanted to wait for children as well, but as soon as I missed my first monthly and told him the news, he was the most excited person you could find. So excited, in fact, he felt as if he could take on the world and win. So he did.

Only he lost.

I went after him, even though he forbade me. He said the health of our baby was the most important thing in the world and that I should hide at Grimmauld Place, because no one would be able to find me there after all the new security measures we had put up.

Since when did I ever listen to a direct order?

I flooed directly to Hermione's after I woke up and found Harry's note. I told her that he had decided to go after Voldemort and that she had to come with me to back him up. After much haggling, and convincing her it was what Ron would have done, she agreed and grabbed her cloak. We apparated just outside the wards of Voldemort's lair, not a half-hour behind Harry. We came up to the wards and Hermione pulled back. She told me it was a death trap, and that she had been working too hard at the Ministry for the last two years to give it all up now by dying in some "stupid battle she could never win". She disapparated, leaving me to battle through Voldemort's traps, hexes and Death Eaters on my own.

My best friend betrayed me to become a crooked politician.

I came upon Voldemort and Harry in the supposed Grand Ballroom. In reality, it was a dusty, aged, worn down semblance of what had been grandeur once upon a time. The walls were cracking from endless torture of minions and prisoners alike, and there was Harry in the center of it all. I jumped in and began to hold my own, but it was all for naught. Voldemort shot Harry down with a Killing Curse, just as the Death Eater I was battling crashed into the center support beam from a Reductor curse I had cast.

The last thing I remember was Voldemort's laughter, before the ceiling came down and all went black.

"I remember everything," I whispered. "Everything up 'til the ceiling crashed in."

"Ah," she frowned. "Well, that helps, I suppose. The Ministry's Aurors came in not too long after that, Miss Weasley, and they were able to pull you from the rubble. They brought you here and you've been under Healer Marjorey and Healer Jackson's care ever since. They're the best, and they've been commissioned to your care by order of the Minister."

"The Minister?"

"Yes, Miss Weasley, Minister Granger."

"Minister HERMIONE GRANGER?"

"That's right," she continued soothingly, as she smoothed my bed linens with her wand. "I've been changing your linens, and sometimes they let me check your vitals and do night watch. You and the baby are both as healthy as you can be, especially now that you're awake."

I clutched my swollen abdomen. "And how long have you been changing my linens, Miss—um?"

"Elsa, miss. Just Elsa. I've been with you right from the beginning as I finish up my clinical work- about seven months, Miss Weasley."

"So I'm eight months pregnant?"

"That's right, Miss Weasley," began the head female healer- I cut her off.

"I didn't ask you," I snapped. "I asked Elsa." I sure as hell didn't want to talk to anyone that had been "commissioned" by the Minister of Magic. Minister of Betrayal, more like.

"Eight months just about, Miss Weasley. You're due the twenty-second of September. It's your birthday coming up, is it not?"

I glanced at the calendar hanging on the wall she had pointed to. It was August fifth.

"Yes, Elsa. I'll be twenty one soon."

"Ah, well happy birthday, Miss. I'm sure the entire wizarding world will be glad to hear you're up and about. If you'll lay down now, Miss Weasley, I'm sure Healers Marjorey and Jackson would like to make sure all is in order, what with you moving all about and being so stressed. It can't be good for the baby."

"The savior," someone whispered, their voice awe-filled.

My ears pricked up immediately. So my baby was supposed to be their new savior, was it? No wonder they were all submissive to me. They didn't want my rash Weasley temper hurting their chances of world salvation.

They had no idea that my temper was the thing they should be least worried about.

"I'll be happy to let you check me over, Elsa, but I don't want anyone else in this room without my express consent."

Elsa looked around her at the seven other scandalized faces in the room, her mouth gaping. She had just been given exclusive clearance to the highest security patient in the entire hospital, and it looked as if said patient did not want to deal with anyone other than herself.

This could do wonders for her medical career- I knew she wouldn't pass it up.

"Miss Weasley!" cried Healer Marjorey, the head female on staff, "I can personally guarantee you that none other than those already present will be allowed in this room if you so wish it!"

"Yes," jumped in Healer Jackson, with a deep booming voice, "if you prefer it we can see to it that no one other than myself and Healer Marjorey have clearance."

I sighed and turned to Elsa. Some people just didn't get it. If the Ministry sanctioned these healers, chances were that they were reporting directly to Hermione- the LAST person I wanted knowing my health status.

"Elsa, I don't believe I've given ANY of these people clearance. Will you please show them to the door and make sure to take them off of the security clearance list?"

Elsa looked scared. These were her superiors- they could have her fired. And I knew it. But I also knew that Hermione would want me kept under control. If that meant me running her hospital right under her nose, she would let it happen- or risk her little savior walking right out the door. Elsa was a smart girl. She would realize that.

"Come now, Elsa," I said sweetly as I eased my whale-like body back on my bed. "We wouldn't want the Minister to find out that her high-security patient was unhappy, would we?"

Else smiled at me. "No, Miss Weasley, we certainly wouldn't."

"Miss Weasley," began Healer Jackson, "I really must insist—"

"No, Healer Jackson, you really mustn't." I raised my wand. "Now get out."

They scampered. I laid back on my bed and sat obediently while Elsa checked and re-checked my vitals, then began fluffing my pillows. This is how life went for the next month and a half, and as time went on, Elsa began to love me- and I began to trust her. Things were going fine, until Hermione paid me a visit.

"GINNY! Oh, Merlin, Ginny, I was so worried about you!"

I glared at her. Hermione had never been good at lying, and I could see right through her where others couldn't. She didn't give a damn about me- she only cared about my baby and using it as the next savior. Using it to guarantee her the popular vote next year.

"Can I help you?"

"Ginny, you know I've been worried sick. Elsa, do you mind leaving us for a moment?"

"No, Minister," Elsa said obediently as she headed to the door.

"She mayn't, but I do. Stay, Elsa, please. Have a seat and help yourself to some tea. Take a break."

"Thanks, Miss Weasley."

I turned to Hermione, who was frowning. "You were saying?"

"Ah- yes, worried sick. The whole wizarding world has been asking about you for months, Gin. They need to hear you're all right. You should have seen the reaction when they found out the baby lived! So many gifts, Gin, I've never seen the likes of it!"

"Send them back."

She laughed. "Oh, Ginny, you know I couldn't do that. They'd be so heartbroken. If you don't feel comfortable taking them, just donate them anonymously."

"You know damn well that isn't what this is about, Minister."

"Minister? Come now, Ginny, we're best friends! You don't need to call me 'Minister'!"

"Oh, don't I? Correct me if I'm wrong, but I was under the impression that my so-called BEST FRIEND apparated away that night Harry died, right outside Voldemort's lair, leaving me to handle it on my own!"

Elsa gasped, dropping her teacup. It smashed as it hit the floor, and she repaired it with a hastily muttered 'Reparo' and a "Sorry."

Hermione flushed. "Ginny, I couldn't stay. You know that. There was work to be done- I couldn't leave the Ministry to its own devices- you know what Fudge was like!"

"I do! And that's why I thought YOU, of all people, would have understood that Voldemort needed to be taken care of THEN! If you had stayed, we might have won. Five minutes earlier, and we could have saved Harry. Getting through his guards was what ruined me- if I would have had your help, we could have WON! Without the threat of Voldemort, any lame-ass Minister would have sufficed, even Fudge!"

"Now you're going too far!" Hermione cried, clenching her teeth. "The productivity and population satisfaction of the Ministry has increased by 48 from the time I took office!"

"Satisfaction that you're going to give the world another Harry to sacrifice, you mean!" I spat.

Elsa sat, fiddling silently with her teacup, pretending to fill out paperwork. But I could see she was listening intently. That was what I had planned on.

Hermione stood, fuming. "You know I had no choice but to let them believe that. I know the prophecy said only Harry could defeat him. What better logic could they follow than to think that one of his heirs would be the one to rise up and provide Voldemort's downfall?"

"So you're letting them believe a LIE, just to secure your position of productivity in the Ministry of Magic?"

She lifted her chin, but said nothing.

"You're worse than Fudge ever was, Hermione. Now get out before Elsa has to escort you for raising up my blood pressure to dangerous levels."

She stalked to the door, but turned back for one last attempt at saving her reputation with me.

"You can't prove that your child isn't the next savior, Ginny. You and I both know that."

"You're right, Hermione, I can't. I just have an entire prophecy backing me up that says it was Harry or none!"

"Dumbledore's pensieve won't count as evidence. You still can't prove it."

She left, and slammed the door behind her. Elsa was at my bedside in an instant with her wand and a calming draught.

"Miss Weasley?" she timidly began.

"Go ahead and say it, Elsa. You won't ask me anything I don't already know."

"Would she really do it, Ginny?" she asked, giving up on propriety and using my first name from the stress of it all. "Would she really use your baby as a poster child for the Ministry, even though she knows that it has no more hope of defeating Voldemort than I would?"

I sighed, and pulled Elsa in for a hug. "Never underestimate what a brilliant woman will do to push through the glass ceiling, Elsa. Most of all, never underestimate Hermione Granger."

Elsa nodded, fervently. "But can we do anything? Can we stop her?"

"Only a stillborn would stop her, Elsa, and you said yourself that the baby is as healthy as can be expected."

Elsa paced the floor, her yellow robes (now with lime stripes) glittering in the sunlight that streamed through my window.

"We could get rid of it. Send it away. Transfigure a pillow into a stillborn baby to show as proof that it died during labor. I'm the only one that would know. I couldn't live with myself if that poor baby was sent to death because of a politician's desire to remain in office."

I sat up as straight as I could in my bed my belly bulging more than ever. "Could we, Elsa? Would you do that for me?"

"I'd do anything for you, Miss Weasley. Since you made me your exclusive caretaker, I've had offers from around the globe for positions in some of the most secular hospitals available. It would be the least I could do."

"Elsa, I would be forever indebted to you if you would try."

"No, Miss Weasley. 'Try' is not in my vocabulary. I will make it happen."

Two weeks later I was induced into labor at three in the morning, with only Elsa attending me, just as we had planned. The baby came out alive and healthy, not that anyone would ever know. We had everything cleaned up and situated before the night guard even realized I had been in labor. I sat on my bed, crying and holding a bloody pillow, transfigured to look exactly like my real baby- only still and not breathing. The paperwork had been forged to look as though I had started having pregnancy complications just after the Minister's visit to me in my rooms.

Let Hermione have that on her conscience. See if she keeps her popular vote once that gets out into the public.

As the graveyard shift security guard tried to console me in my apparent grief, Elsa slipped out with the rubbish from the labor to take it to the bins. My baby had been concealed inside, wrapped in clean sheets. As soon as she reached the hospital's private rubbish dumpster, her cousin appeared out of thin air, awaiting her and the baby we had hidden in the rubbish bag. Within a blink of an eye, she, and my baby, was gone. Safe and hidden in India where no one would look for them.

I knew I would never see Exavier again, but at least I would know he was safe, and away from the Ministry's plans to turn him into a warrior toddler.

It didn't take long for Hermione to show up in her Ministry of Magic glory, ready to christen the baby and claim him a savior on behalf of the wizarding world. All she found was the stillborn transfigured pillow. She grieved appropriately for the public eye, praised me for my courage and granted me a healthy stipend for my efforts against Voldemort on behalf of the Ministry. After all was said and done, she was alone with Elsa and I before she let her true colors show.

"I know you did something with that baby, Ginny. I may not be able to find any hexes, spells, or jinxes on the body we buried today- but I know that was no baby. You did something, Ginevra Weasley, and I know it."

I could have taken so many roads. I could have been enraged. I could have thrown a postpartum fit. Instead I glared at her.

"Prove it."

She swept from the room, muttering curses.

Over the next six weeks, Elsa helped me through physical therapy as I regained strength from finally being out of my comatose state, and not having the extra thirty pounds of baby to carry around. I trained day and night, pushing my body to the limit, and soon I was back to my old self again, and Elsa was off to take a position in Australia. I packed up the articles of clothing I had arrived at the hospital in some nine months earlier. They weren't fit to wear, but I wanted to keep them. I pulled on the clothes I had had Elsa buy for me, pleased with the effect. Black knee high combat-like boots, a short black pleated skirt (for extreme freedom of movement), a black tank top and black outer robes.

"Where will you go, Ginny?" Elsa asked, as she signed the final paperwork.

"I'm going to find Voldemort," I replied. "And when I do, he will rue the day he ever heard the name Ginevra Weasley."

Elsa smiled and nodded. "I believe in you, Gin. You deserve the revenge. Go and take it."

I hugged her. "Thank you for everything, Elsa. I'll never forget you."

And with that, I was off. I was pissed, and Voldemort was going to be the outlet of my rage.