"Do you have to leave immediately?" He called behind me as I turned to walk out of the bedroom door. My luggage case in hand, I was ready to go. I can hear his footsteps behind me, but I don't turn around when I answer.

"There's no reason for me to stick around any longer." The fact that he hasn't given up yet is strange. Especially because he so easily gave up on everything else. I continue walking and feel his hand grab my arm.

"Ginny, we can fix this. I can fix this."

"No. No, you can't. This is already gone." I walk up to the front door for what I expect will be my last time. It's funny how, when you first make huge life choices like buying a house or getting married, you never expect that there will be a time when what you chose no longer excites you. I place my hand on the knob of the door and twist, pulling the door open and allowing the cool air flood my senses. I look over my shoulder at the face of the man I was once madly in love with, the same face that saved me from Tom Riddle when I was only eleven, the same face that decided to give up on life once the war was over, and say, "Goodbye, Harry."

The expression he shows is almost enough to convince me that I'm making the wrong decision, that I haven't tried hard enough and maybe this time things will work out. Maybe this time the ambitious man I once knew would reappear for good. But I know that it won't happen and that knowledge is enough to make me step outside and walk down the front steps.

It was a beautiful home and the man following me into the cold December evening was once a beautiful man, but it no longer excites me. Harry doesn't say anything, but stands two steps behind me. I don't turn around again and let the gut-wrenching force of apparition take over me. The next thing I see is a garden full of little gnomes running around, biting at each other under the bushes and flowers. I sigh at the sight, nostalgic for the times when I experienced the gnomes chaos regularly. I turn to face the house that was built upon the ruins of my family's original. It occurs to me that I never saw the Burrow get renovated. I was too busy living life as a newlywed. How foolish I feel now.

Breathing in deeply, preparing myself for whatever may come my way once I knock on the door, I walk up the front steps. Quickly, before I'm even within three feet of the door, it bursts open and I am tackled by a blur of ginger hair. I gasp and laugh, something I haven't done in a long time. This may be easier than I originally thought. "Hello, Mum."

"Ginny, darling! What in Merlin's name are you doing here?" I hear from behind the pillowy, excited mass of my Mother and she lets me go. I look over her shoulder and see my Dad, smiling a huge grin and shaking his head.

"Dad!" I run up and wrap my arms around him, "Oh, goodness, I've missed you. Both of you. And take a look at this place!" He lets me go and I watch his eyes as the go from examining my face to staring at the air next to me.

"Where is Harry, honey?" My Mum pipes up behind me.

"That's, um, actually what I came here to talk about." I grab the handle of my luggage case and walk inside with my parents. As new as the outside of the house looks, the inside is just how I remembered from when I lived here. It's as if nothing has changed at all in the past two years. Nothing here, at least.

"Gin, come sit down. Molly, go grab Ginny some of those new cakes we just bought!"

"One step ahead of you, Arthur." Mum walks in with a tray of small assorted fruit cakes.

"Thanks, but no thanks. I'm not hungry," I shake my head when she offers me a cake.

"Oh, come on, Ginny, honey. I've never seen you turn down food here before. If your brothers were here you'd be just fine with taking a cake. Oh, should we invite your brothers over?" She spastically talked to me while placing a small plate with an auburn-speckled cake on my lap despite my objection.

"No, Mum, I'd rather just talk to you and Dad for right now."

"Oh, of course, honey. Come now. What's going on?" She sits down next to my Dad on the frayed couch across from the blue-striped loveseat I chose to sit on.

"Well, Harry and I, we've been having some trouble. Ever since the end of the war he just assumed the world didn't need him anymore. He dropped out of his job as an auror and shut me out. He just wasn't the same anymore." I begin tearing up slightly. I'd talked myself through my situation multiple times and felt confident that I could explain, but even just sugarcoating it for my parents was causing me more heartache than I expected so quickly. "I talked about it with the family management department at the Ministry earlier this week and, well, we had the papers finalized today."

I look up at my Mum's face and begin developing tears more rapidly. She looks so heartbroken. "Papers? But, Gin, you don't mean..."

"Yes, Mum. I am no longer married to Harry Potter." I try to hold it together, but all hope for that is lost. The tears begin pouring and my Dad walks across the room to me, holding me in his arms.

"This is disappointing, Ginny, but we understand. I promise," Dad says softly, obviously upset, but trying his best to hold it in for me.

"Ginny," Mum fights through her tears to say, "Please feel free to stay here as long as you need until you're settled again."

"Really?" I look up with a hopeful glance.

"Of course, Gin," Dad replies. "Molly, floo the boys. I think it's time we all meet up again."

"Are you sure, Arthur?" Mum glances at me, worriedly.

"It's fine, Mum. They need to know."

"Alright, I'm going." Mum walks across the room to the fireplace and Dad takes me by the arm and walks with my back to the kitchen. I carry the cake platter on the way out.

"Ginny, I know this is going to be hard. Just know that we are all here for you, okay?"

"Yes, Dad, I know," I smile reassuringly at him, "Thank you so much. I'm so sorry we lost contact."

"Don't worry about it, Gin. You're room is all fixed up upstairs. Have a good night's rest. Your brothers should be here tomorrow."

"Thanks again, Dad." He smiles back at me and takes the platter from my hand, placing it on the kitchen counter. Walking towards the stairs I see our family clock. My brothers' clock arms are at multiple places around the clock: work, travelling, bed. Luckily, nobody is in mortal peril. It takes me a few seconds to locate myself and I smile when I find the correct arm because of how perfect it is. It's pointing at home. I am home.