The clock in the Weasleys' kitchen had become redundant. For a long time now, the nine brassy hands representing the family members had been permanently fixed at mortal peril and recently, they'd even given up on moving towards travelling. Maybe even travelling was perilous now.
Despite this, Ginny Weasley couldn't stop glancing at it. It had become a reflex at times like this – she was willing for something to move, to put an end to this agony. Even when she remembered and looked down at her ordinary watch, it seemed like time was in slow motion. Watching the second hand crawl, she felt a sickening mixture of emotions, one that she was becoming more and more accustomed to: anger mixed with paralysing fear.
"Ginny dear, you don't look well," her mother said fretfully, resting a hand on her daughter's forehead.
Ginny batted it away. "You should have let me go."
"Sweetheart, it's dangerous. You're underage."
"So is Harry!" Ginny exploded. "And Ron's barely of age. What difference does it make?"
"Harry doesn't have a choice! And Ron… can make his own decisions now," Mrs Weasley said through gritted teeth. "If you don't think I'm going to keep you here as long as I can, you're mad."
"But what am I supposed to do here? Sit here, staring at the clock, wondering whether my family and my…" Ginny paused; Harry wasn't her boyfriend anymore. "…my – friend are ever going to come back?"
"What do you think I had to do all the way through the first war, looking after Bill whilst your father was off doing goodness knows what?" her mother replied, softly this time. She ran a hand through Ginny's glossy hair; this time, Ginny didn't fight her off, but despite herself leaned closer into her mother's embrace.
"What if something happens to him?" Ginny whispered. "What if they catch him? What if he dies?"
With a knowing look on her face, Mrs Weasley continued to stroke Ginny's hair, softly shhhing her. "Harry's more than a friend, isn't he?"
"Yes. No. I don't know," Ginny said hurriedly. "We broke up. He didn't want to put me in danger. But that doesn't change how I feel about him."
"Harry is going to be fine," Mrs Weasley said firmly, taking Ginny by the waist and sitting her up so that she could make eye contact. "They all are. They don't know we're moving him today; he's still underage. Having the seven Harrys is just a precaution."
"Yeah, I know," Ginny sighed, old enough now to understand that her mother was equally trying to convince herself with these words. "They'll be fine."
But as time continued to pass by and Portkey after Portkey turned up unaccompanied, Ginny felt more and more sick to her stomach. Waiting in agony at the sideline, unable to do anything to help – Ginny was sure that this was what her personal hell would feel like. What had happened?
"Harry, will you come in here a moment?"
Her breath caught in her throat as he entered the room. This was the first time they'd been alone together since that awful night – since they'd broken up, actually – and her heart raced from the proximity, and from knowing what she was about to do. You broke up, a voice in her head reminded her. What if he's not interested?
Ignoring the voice, she took a deep breath. "Happy seventeenth."
"Yeah… thanks." His eyes were wandering. He pointed towards the window. "Nice view."
Ginny mentally kicked herself; he definitely wasn't interested. Why didn't she just buy him a fancy broom care kit or something? But she had to go with it now. "I couldn't think what to get you."
"You didn't have to get me anything," Harry said, irritatingly noble as always.
"I didn't know what would be useful. Nothing too big, because you wouldn't be able to take it with you." She kicked herself again; she was babbling. Not an attractive quality, but once she'd started, she couldn't stop. "So then I thought, I'd like you to have something to remember me by, you know, if you meet some Veela when you're off doing whatever you're doing." She swallowed a lump in her throat, resisting the urge to ask what he actually was doing.
"I think dating opportunities are going to be pretty thin on the ground, to be honest."
For the first time in what felt like forever, Ginny's lips fell into an effortless smile. "There's the silver lining I've been looking for," she said breathlessly, and she didn't even know who initiated it, but then his lips were finally on hers. Now she finally had it, the chance to really show him how she felt, to show him that whatever happened, whatever he was going off to do, she was his, and no-one else's. She took it all in for what she knew could be the final time: his musky smell, the taste of his lips, the tickle of his stubble on her chin, the way her heart raced when his hands roamed around her body and his fingers tangled in her hair. This was the most passionate she had ever felt – her stomach turned over and her heart sped up even more as his he reached under her t-shirt… she began to edge them towards the bed… this was what she wanted…
They heard the door and sprang apart; it was all over as quickly as it had begun.
"Oh. Sorry."
Those two words provoked more anger than she had ever felt towards her youngest brother.
"Ron!" Hermione cried from behind him, clearly sharing Ginny's indignance.
Ginny was absolutely fuming, but she didn't know what she could say that would undo what had just happened. She forced herself to keep the fury from her voice. "Well, happy birthday anyway, Harry."
She turned to face the wall; the lump in her throat was back, and she didn't want to look any of them in the eyes. She tried not to think of what had been taken away from her, of what might have happened if they hadn't been interrupted.
There was a pregnant pause; Harry muttered, "See you later," and he was gone.
Without even bothering to close the door, Ginny collapsed onto her bed, and the tears were finally allowed to fall. She felt like a fool. She prided herself on being a strong woman; she had never cried over a boy before. No, she wasn't crying because she'd broken up with Harry – she was crying because, of all the boys in the world, she had fallen in love with the Chosen One, whatever that meant. To her, it simply meant that she didn't know if he would live or die.
Her other break-ups hadn't been like this. With Michael, it was simply because they were bored of each other. With Dean, it had ended with the last of many raging arguments. But she and Harry hadn't argued, and they certainly weren't bored of each other: the last five minutes proved that, she thought bitterly.
This was all because of Voldemort. Despite her mother, Ginny vowed that she would do whatever tiny part she could to get rid of him – for Harry, for herself, and for everyone in the Wizarding World that loved someone.
Ginny had never seen the Hogwarts Express so subdued. Rather than excitedly catching up on each other's summer news and adventures, most people were silent in their compartments, reflecting on the awful events of the holidays. Even Draco Malfoy seemed to have wiped the smirk off his face.
She took her normal seat in a compartment with Neville, Dean, Seamus and Luna. The former three looked as dejected as anyone else, although Neville gave Ginny's hand a comforting squeeze as she sat down beside him. She was glad to have the support of somebody who seemed to understand what she was going through. Luna, on the other hand, looked like she could be on her way to any ordinary year at Hogwarts, absorbed in the Quibbler as she sported her Spectrespecs and a dreamy expression. Ginny almost laughed out loud – it comforted her to know that even Voldemort couldn't make Luna miserable.
After some slightly tense small talk, the compartment sat in silence, so all Ginny could do was dread what awaited her at the other end of the train journey. What would Hogwarts be like without Dumbledore? Surely McGonagall would be taking over as Headmistress. Or would they appoint somebody awful like Umbridge? Would Snape show his face after the events of last summer?
Suddenly, the brakes of the Hogwarts Express screeched to a halt. Ginny looked at the people either side of her in alarm – they surely hadn't arrived yet. The only time this had happened before was in her second year, when the Dementors came onto the train in search of Sirius. Was it Dementors again? Or something worse?
The carriage door opened and in came what could only be a group of Death Eaters – robed in black, leering at the students as they passed through. Ginny's chest tightened. It became clear that they were searching for someone, and it didn't take a genius to work out who.
"Hey, losers!" Neville cried out, and Ginny felt herself swell with pride. How much he had grown in confidence since she first met him. "He's not here."
The leader of the group leered at Neville. Ginny grabbed her friend's hand in solidarity.
After pausing and seemingly deciding that Neville wasn't worth their time, the man turned on his heel. The others followed.
"That was brave, Neville," Luna said, before looking back down at her copy of the Quibbler, unfazed.
"So these are the kind of people we'll have to deal with this year, then," Seamus muttered.
"I wish they knew how worthless they are compared to him," Neville said quietly, his hands curling into fists.
"We'd better show them, then," said Ginny, more determined than ever, and even Luna looked up after hearing her tone. "I want to fight. What do you guys say to getting the old DA gang back together?"
A/N: Thanks for reading! I recently re-watched all 8 films, and it made me really want to write something Ginny-centric. The way she sort of becomes a side character, when she so wants to be in the thick of it all...
The dialogue in the middle section is all taken directly from the Deathly Hallows book, which I sadly do not own. And ditto with Neville's first line, which comes from DH part 1.
I seem to be averaging about one story per year at the moment, so see you in 12 months ;)