She couldn't believe it was all over.
So many years-practically her whole life–had been defined by her loving Harry, and it had all crumbled beneath her over the course of a bloody morning. In retrospect, it had probably been stupid to base so much of her identity on a boy, but what could she do? It wasn't as if she could pay her five year-old self a visit and beg her not to fall in love with the boy in the Daily Prophet article that her father gave her to practice her reading.
It'd all been downhill from there, really. She remembered nearly passing out when her stupidest brother came home and told her that he was best friends with the Harry Potter, like it wasn't even a big deal. Or when she had gone to school herself, a perpetually blushing bundle of silent, awkward nerves, and he'd saved her life. It was nothing, really!
Ginny gagged audibly. She was 21, not 11 anymore, and the less she thought about him, the better. Sliding her broom into the green suede purse on the bed courtesy of one of the charms Hermione had taught her, she thought of where she could go.
Moving back into the Burrow wasn't her first choice, obviously. Her mother was likely to coddle her, and probably would orchestrate as many events and dinners as possible to try and push her and Harry back together. Not bloody likely, she scoffed, throwing her clothes and books haphazardly into the bag. Ron and Hermione's place would be even worse.
She could always take out a room at the Leaky for a few weeks until she found her own place...but that required money, and for now her accounts were still tied up with Harry's. She ticked down the list of brothers: Bill and Fleur lived in France, Charlie and his boyfriend in Romania, Percy was a bloody ambassador's secretary in Japan, George and Luna were on a three month safari... Out of nowhere, she was hit with a sudden rush of loneliness. All of her friends were her friends through Harry, including half of her brothers. More than anything, she wished Tonks was there. Ginny had lived almost 15 years without any female role model but her mother, but that had changed as soon as she met Tonks. Though she was awkward and clumsy, she still managed to be everything Ginny wanted to be when she grew up. Tonks would definitely let her stay, as long as she helped watch little Teddy...Tears pricked at her eyes. Thinking like that won't help you, either.
She finished packing and starting destroying. It was a cold, hard Reducto! for the picture on the nightstand, a Stinging Hex into his chest of drawers, a Cascading Jinx to the bookshelf, a bold Defodio! to the bedspread, a Locking Spell to the shower door (after she turned the water on, of course) and too many more to count.
Finally, she laid a nasty tripping jinx in the doorway before slamming the door shut. A Permanent Sticking Charm of her engagement ring to th–his bedroom door and a Bat Bogey Hex in every room later, she was out of Number 12, Grimmauld Place for what she hoped was the last time.
Her stop into her old room at the Burrow was long enough to unpack her necessities and not much else. As soon as she dug her broom out from the bottom of the suede bag, Ginny ran down the stairs like a little girl and burst out of the house and into the garden. There was still a mostly-inflated Quaffle in the shed by the grace of some god, and she punted it as high into the air as she could manage before hopping onto the broom and…and nothing. She jerked forward sharply to urge the broom on and succeeded only in falling onto her face and staining her knees with dirt.
"Shit!" she groaned, immediately regretting packing her broom before all of her heavy things. Her shoddy charm and impractical packing combined had done something terrible to Fred's old Firebolt.
Ginny took a deep breath and tied back her long, red hair. It was as good a time as any for a trip to Diagon Alley—she needed to work out her finances, and looking for a job wouldn't be a bad idea either. Broom in hand, she Summoned her purse through the open window of the house and Disapparated.
Diagon Alley was as noisy and crowded as ever. Ginny was dimly aware that it may have been about the time when young witches and wizards got their Hogwarts letters for the new school year, judging by the relative size and age of the crowd, which meant that everything would be beyond busy, but also meant that she'd narrowly avoided having to buy Harry a birthday present.
The queue in Gringotts was nearly out the door, so she decided to wait on procuring current funds and work on securing future ones via a new job. Florian Fortescue was glad to see her, but he'd just hired on his niece. The old witch who ran the apothecary found her knowledge of potion ingredients to be less than satisfactory. Flourish & Blotts had just let a lad go because they were switching to an automatic system, and she had started sneezing uncontrollably when she walked into the Magical Menagerie, so that was out, too. Quality Quidditch supplies was never hiring, and it was always from a pool of retired professionals when they did. Now Ginny really regretted not taking the Seeker position with Appleby when they'd offered the past spring—her pride had been too strong, and she really had wanted to play Chaser—it made her want to slam her head against the lopsided brick walls.
She kept walking, half-trying to run away from her thoughts, and before long she realized that she'd gone all the way into the empty streets that used to make up Knocturn Alley. The Aurors had totally gutted it after the war, and there were only a handful of stores left. The abandoned streets were exactly what she needed, though. Ginny leaned against the grubby brick, the hot tears she'd been holding back since breakfast falling undeterred from her sad eyes.
The steak and kidney pie wasn't her mother's, but it was filling and cheap, and the goblins at Gringotts hadn't been of much help with her financial situation. A few Sickles and a Knut clinked together as she set them on the polished table and set off to get her broom fixed. She had some options: The Firebolt had come from Broomstix originally, but the warranty was out by now, and they'd be pricier. One couldn't argue with the, well, quality of Quality Quidditch Supplies, but the secondhand broom store would be cheapest. Quality Quidditch made the most sense, she decided, so she dug around her bag for the damaged broom and strode confidently into the shop, hoping a flourish of her red hair and a batting of the lashes around her deep brown eyes could wheedle down the price of what would surely be an expensive fix.
Predictably, the store was full of school-aged children, all too broom-crazed to take much notice of her. The tiniest drooled over brooms they couldn't take to school, while the older ones argued over teams and statistics and equipment. Ginny actually laughed out loud when an older boy in a Ravenclaw sweater checked her out, and she made her way to the back of the store. The service desk was a surprising island of peace in the tumultuously busy store, run by a familiar face.
"Miss Weasley! What can I do for y'today?"
"Oliver Wood," she smiled at him, "It's been a while, hasn't it?" He'd been too old for them to be properly acquainted in school, but he was friendly with her older brothers. "What's a professional athlete like you doing mending brooms?"
Oliver held up his left wrist, wrapped in some sort of a splint. "Last in the line of many, I fear. I'm done for good this time. What about you? I heard you were a sight to behold in the air!" he asked, running his injured hand through his sandy hair. Ginny barely noticed his eyes flicking over her.
Ginny sighed. "I waited too long for the right offer, and then stopped getting them at all. You know how it happens."
He nodded in understanding. "You having a broom issue, then?"
The Firebolt was tossed onto the table in response. "I don't even know, what happened, really! Well…Okay, I do know. I…I was leaving H–someplace in a hurry, and it got jammed into a bag with a ton of books and other stuff, and it just…stopped working?" she finished uncertainly. "The bloody warranty just ran out, too, and I'm a bit strapped for Galleons at the mo'…"
He eyed her curiously. "Well, it sounds like you're leaving a lot out, but I'll probably be able to figure it out. Did you use any spells on whatever it was packed in?"
She bit her lip, averting her eyes. "A less-than-perfect Undetectable Extension Charm, plus two Apparitions."
Oliver nodded slowly, scratching a long brown quill against a notepad. "How's Harry, by the way?" he questioned casually, looking up from his notes. "I haven't talked to him in ages, I heard you lot were engaged?"
She winced at the mention of Harry, and Oliver definitely noticed. I guess I've got to start telling people eventually, she told herself before biting the bullet. "You'd have to ask him yourself, actually. We broke up just this morning," she announced, as aloofly as she could manage.
"I'm sorry," he said, simply and honestly. "That explains a lot, then." He was sort of staring, as though he didn't know what to say.
"No, I'm sorry I'm springing personal stuff on you," she dismissed, smiling bravely. "How much d'you think this'll run me, though? Like I said, sort of strapped…"
The hand in the splint scratched the back of his almost-sunburnt neck. "I dunno, I'd have to take a look. I'm actually about to clock out for the morning, so…" he hesitated, then added quickly, "I mean, you're an old friend, and you're in a spot of trouble. I can probably fix it with what I have at home... I could even teach you, if you'd like," he offered with a shrug, crumpling the service order parchment he'd been scrawling on a moment before.
Ginny knew that she wasn't quite an 'old friend,' and she was a smart enough witch to put his offer and the subtle glances he was giving her together. But he was extremely attractive, and she was also a grown woman who could do as she bloody well pleased.
"That sounds great, actually. Owl me when you're free," she answered enthusiastically, taking her broom from the table.
"Brilliant! Where are you living these days?"
She cringed. "Back home at the Burrow, for the time being."
A sympathetic wince was his response. "I'll definitely owl you, though. It was nice seeing you, Ginny."
"For sure! Thanks, Oliver," she grinned and left the store. As she Disapparated, she wondered if what she'd thought this morning was a terrible end could actually be a new beginning.