June through August, she collects.
They're small tokens, meaningless rubbish to most, but for Ginny they are her life and her friends and her memories put into little pieces that she can carry around. They sit by her bed, packed tightly in the box that once held Ron's lacy dress robes. Sometimes she looks through them, but most of the time she doesn't, deriving comfort simply from the fact that they are always there. When she does look through them though, all her of emotions sort of rush together in a way she can't quite describe. One minute she's smiling wistfully at something her mother once said, the next she could be laughing her head off at the memory of one of the twins' pranks, or weeping quietly because she knows everything is changing and not for the better.
(If the twins knew they would've exchanged a worried look over the top of her head then laughed loudly, told her to stop acting like such a girl, and then distract her with a new plot or invention because it always makes her smile and they're Gred and Forge and that's what they do.)
She finds herself hoarding things, like a crow or a niffler, until the box is very nearly full. Mostly, she looks for her treasures when she is half asleep. In one memorable occasion she suddenly had the bright idea that a piece of rhubarb pie was the best representation of Ron and left it until even the witches on her Holyhead Harpies poster were complaining of the smell. The stupid mistakes are worth it though, because if she's half-asleep when she goes searching, then she doesn't have to think about why she's collecting or any of the other things she doesn't quite know how to face.
(If Ron knew he would've told the poster to stuff it, eaten the pie, laughed when she made a disgusted face, then said it was worth it when he got sick. He would never have admitted it was a stupid idea, or that he was wrong, because he's Ron and that's what he does.)
She packs away a flower from Fleur's bouquet, charmed to never die. She has one of the leather bands Bill uses to tie back his hair. She has a button from her mother's blue flowered apron, the one that belonged to her mother, so special that it's only used when making birthday cakes. Alongside that is an old lens from child-sized pink sunglasses and a couple of dead batteries. She also has the bank shaped like a pig that Percy called his 'word bank'.
It's the same bank he had put a new word in every night from the time he was old enough to read, until the day he left for Hogwarts and left the practice to his younger sister. When it was her turn for school, she took it with her.
(If Percy knew he would've smiled briefly; then told her it was time for her to grow up like he had and go back to his paperwork. She would've scowled and he would've chuckled, and even though she hates him right now, she loves him, because he's Percy and that's what he does.)
She has wildflowers from the meadow out back, and the incisor of a particularly nasty gnome that had tried to fight rather than become an ornament for a Christmas tree and bit George so hard several teeth were lodged in his finger. She has Bill's headboy pin and her dad's old Gryffindor tie. She keeps the storybook Charlie made for her when she was born near the top. It's about a dragon (originally named Jonah, but re-christened Jennifer when he found out she was a girl) that just wants to fly. It's a juxtaposition of his two favourite things, flying and dragons, and so incredibly Charlie that she can't help but smile every time she sees the childish artwork.
(If Charlie knew he would've gone pink, smiled sheepishly and said "Jeez, Gin, you kept that rag all these years?" She would've replied, "Of course you prat, I need proof that you can read and write, no one ever believes me." He'd pretend to be affronted but then he'd ruffle her hair and call her something stupid like 'munchkin' because he's Charlie and that's what he does.)
In the box she has a bit of Lee Jordan's hair. It's an incredibly long dreadlock tied around the middle by a banana-yellow piece of yarn and has to be at least four years old. It revolts her and she swears that sometimes it moves by itself, but when she found it, it was stuck to a snapshot with superglue, and she needed that photo.
The picture was taken at Fred and George's sixth birthday party, the year that they started losing teeth. In it the twins are unusually solemn, refusing to smile because George had lost his front tooth and Fred hadn't, and they weren't identical like they were supposed to be. In the background their father is dashing about, gesticulating wildly at his newly procured antlers. (It's a favourite story of Molly's, how Arthur's constant attempts to make the twins smile made George lose control and how he spent the next forty-three hours at St. Mungo's and missed out on the chocolate birthday cake in penance.)
Ginny's favourite part of the picture though, is the edge of the frame where her mother's fingers always appear, blocking out most of the left side, including half of a startled Percy's face. She sees them shaking and she imagines she can hear her mum's loud, clear, ringing laughter and all the bad things seem to go away for a minute.
(If her dad knew he would've huffed for a moment or two, then glance at his wife and smile to himself, because in the picture she's laughing, and he loved her laugh before he even knew her. Then he'd start reminiscing and tell Ginny ridiculous stories about the good ol' days that make her mother blush, because he's Arthur and that's what he does.)
September through April, she holds on.
She's clinging to a life that doesn't exist anymore; she knows it as well as anybody else.
But they all are now, and doesn't quite understand why people feel the need to worry about her. She can take care of herself.
On the train to school she tells Neville and Luna this and how she didn't want to come back to school at all. She soundproofs the compartment and tells them of Harry, Ron, and Hermione's departure, and how angry she is with them.
They fall silent and Luna looks at her strangely, almost sharply. She asks why Ginny thought it would be any different from all the other times the three friends went rushing into danger. She asks if Ginny is mad that they're putting themselves at risk, or because they're a trio and as a consequence, no matter how much they love her, she'll never quite be a part of it.
Ginny immediately knows the answer, and hates herself for it.
(If Hermione were here she'd say that it was all right. She'd tell Ginny she understood because of all the times Harry and Ron had tried to leave her out or behind. She'd tell her that she doesn't blame her a bit; Ginny knows it—or maybe she just wishes it. But no, she would understand, she'd have to, because she is Hermione, and understanding things is what she does.)
She starts to take things from the box and put them in her bag or robe pocket so that they're always with her. She has a system for it. Neville shakes his head, bewildered, when she explains it, but Luna understands; she's good like that.
Mondays are for Bill, Charlie and Percy, the elders. All day she carries around tokens from their days at Hogwarts like Charlie's quidditch captain badge or the shamrock Percy saved from the World Cup. She tries to remember all the pieces of advice they have given her, all the little words of encouragement. She applies them best she can.
Tuesday's are for the twins. Those are the days when she carries around a sample of pretty much every product they have and gives them out to anyone helping to chip away at the grip of the death-eater teachers. That's also the day she comes up with and executes her most daring plans, for luck.
Wednesday is for her parents. They were both born on a Wednesday, married on a Wednesday and Ginny carries her favourite pictures of them as to not forget the connection. She has thirty or so, but only a few are taken out to look at at length: like the wedding photo where they can't take their eyes off each other long enough to look at the photographer and her father, disarmingly enough, has a full head of hair and the picture of a young freckly Arthur with his ear pressed to a glowing Molly's large stomach and then moving away, clearly shocked when the baby that is Bill kicks his cheek. But the best, by far, is the one of them all together smiling around the kitchen table in their new jumpers, happy and peaceful, just before a Christmas Ginny can barely remember.
Thursday is for Ron. But it isn't just for Ron, because Ron hasn't been just Ron since before Hogwarts. He's linked, and always will be, with Harry and Hermione. So Thursday is the day of the trio, and to be honest she hates Thursdays. She hates waking up and having to remember that they aren't there, but she does, because a part of her can't help but be afraid that if she forgets something terrible will happen and it will be her fault. For Ron, she has a battered chess piece. She named the white knight Finnegan, because Ron once had an imaginary friend with the same name. And ok, it's not a purple kneezle, but it's the thought that counts right? She also has his keeper's gloves, because they're incredibly warm and bright orange. For Hermione she lugs around a copy of Hogwarts: A History and as much as she hates to admit it, it is rather interesting. She also tries to sneak down to the kitchen and thank a few house elves. For Harry, she has the old Gryffindor scarf that he gave her when she was cold, and the memory of the way his lips felt against hers.
Friday is for her. She sits and stares. She is silent. If she wants only to be alone, the others will damn well respect that. Friday is Ginny's day, and she'll do as she pleases.
Saturday is for her other friends. Ginny wears the hand-me-down muggle band t-shirt Tonks gave her; she drinks Remus' favourite tea. She talks to Neville about his plants (which is sometimes quite interesting) and to visit the thestrals with Luna (which is always interesting). And after Luna is taken, she takes extra care to think of her, just in case Luna can feel it wherever she is. She helps Hagrid prepare for his classes and tries to listen as he talks about Harry, Ron and Hermione, even though it nearly kills her. She does what she can for the people she sees and keeps the ones she can't in her thoughts. For them Ginny makes an effort to be happier and upbeat. It's a lot harder than one would think, but she manages.
And Sunday is for the ones already gone.
(If Moody were here he would appreciate her planning. Other than that, he wouldn't be too happy. Come to think of it, Sirius wouldn't be either. The uncles she never met would raise their eyebrows mockingly in tandem just like in their pictures and fold their arms as if saying 'is this it?' She dreams of James Potter glancing at her with an annoyed look on his face and Dumbledore, standing in front of hundreds of others voicing their disproval, slowly looking her up and down and shaking his head in disappointment. Lily Potter, she imagines, would be disgusted with her. Here Ginny is, nice, safe, and cozy in her dorm room calmly waiting for others to do the work for her; she has done nothing, is nothing. They sacrificed themselves, because they are good people. A good people know what is right and choose to make a difference, because that's what they do.)
(Did)
The DA is reborn, and with it a new trio of leaders. Ginny can remember a time when it was their opinion that would have been considered last, a time when they would have been left on the outskirts. Now people come to them for guidance, and she can't help but be proud. She likes that they're doing something, even if it's not much. And then there are times when she just wants it to be normal again. She wants Harry to be the leader once more, Hermione to have ideas, make plans that actually work and talk them out of the stupid ones they come up with, she wants Ron to come back and be his grumpy, over-protective self again.
Neville is a great leader, really, he is. But he's not Harry; he likes teamwork and planning, whereas Harry tended to rush out to protect others, never thinking of himself. Luna is brilliant, but not in the same way as Hermione; questioning her tends to lead to long circular discussions about the properties of moonstones instead of precise answers. And Ginny has no idea how to measure up to Ron. She has the temper, and at some times the over-protectiveness, but as hard as she tries she just can't seem to replicate that thing he does that turns everything into a joke, making situation seem a little bit brighter than it actually is.
Ginny thinks that maybe that quality is the one they need the most and hopes no one holds her lack of skill against her.
(They aren't here, though. She has to remind herself of that fact every day and it never gets any easier. Ginny kind of feels sorry for the others who have put their fate into her, Neville and Luna's hands. But if Harry were here, he'd be pleased with their rebellion. He'd come up with daring plans to undermine Snape, he'd make sure everyone was safe, he'd stare into the fire for hours and not talk to anyone and then smile and shake off questions, he'd be brave and noble and stupid and, well, he'd be Harry. She misses that more than she'd like to admit. She misses him so much it hurts. )
The first time she is tortured she realizes that she isn't nearly as strong as she thought.
She and Luna had been walking from Charms to Transfiguration when one of Malfoy's stupid minions, Goyle, started harassing a second year Ravenclaw. As they passed, Goyle set the boy's robes on fire and Ginny snapped. One hard punch to the mouth and a stunning spell later, Ginny found herself staring into the leering face of Amycus Carrow.
The cruciatus was more painful than she ever could have imagined. If help hadn't arrived when it did, Ginny wonders if she might've gone the same way as Neville's parents. But she didn't, and for that Ginny is forever grateful to Minerva McGonagall. Back in her rooms after having Ginny examined by Madam Pomfrey, Professor McGonagall lets Ginny babble about nothing and forces biscuits upon her. Three hours later she is sent on her way with more treasures to add to her collection.
She now has an old detention slip that Bill got for kicking Mrs. Norris and a beautiful silver snuffbox that Percy once transfigured. The object her professor saves for last, however, quickly becomes one of the most treasured simply because it's the thing that started it all off: A sixth year transfiguration exam of her mother's with the name Arthur Weasley scrawled all through the margins and hastily half scratched out.
(Ginny wishes it were that simple again; that the only problem she and her friends had was how to cope with Quidditch and NEWTS and who's dating whom. She figures she'd settle for her mum being here. If she was, she'd hug her tightly and sing old Celestina Warbeck songs and lullabies to her because they're the ones she knows best, and then possibly commandeer the kitchens from the house elves and cook something. She'd tell her about when each one of her siblings were born in chronological order and the soft lilt of her voice would lull Ginny to sleep just like when she was young, because she's her mum, the best mum, and that's what she does.)
May through June, she prepares.
It's coming, Ginny can feel it.
She knows as she climbs off the train with Neville that it's an ending of some sort, just as she felt when they left for Christmas. And she was right then, what with Luna being taken, and so she thinks that it isn't all that unreasonable to be afraid. She tells Neville this and wishes she hadn't when she sees the pain that flits across his face. Losing Luna was hard on him, harder than Ginny knows he'd ever admit. They're both cracking under the pressure at this point and Ginny is inexpressibly glad that she still has him to lean on and vice versa. By now he's like another brother to her, and when she lets him know how she feels, his smile is so bright she can almost forget how tired and dejected he usually looks.
She hugs him tightly and tells him to be safe. He shuffles his feet and gives her a small potted plant. It's a special type of fern, he tells her, it has healing powers and gives the owner good luck. Ginny thanks him and kind of wishes he hadn't, because it makes the goodbye feel more permanent. Ginny doesn't have anything for him and so she gives him an earring. He laughs and she is happy she's still good for something.
(She collects, she holds on, she prepares. Ginny collects. She lives, she loves, she loses. Ginny lives.)
Disclaimer: Oh, how I wish it was mine. Alas, it never will be, but you all knew that anyway.
A/N:So yeah, I don't usually write about Ginny. Like at all. I don't know why I did this time, but I kinda like it anyway. So tell me if it was good, tell me if it was bad. All flames shall be laughed at mercilessly, just so you know. This story is for Madeline, because Ginny is her fav. Mads, if Ginny were real, I'm sure the feeling would be mutual:) Also thanks to Molly my beta-alpha (3 it, btw) who happens to hold the title of best beta ever. -Sloane
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