I can't seem to write anything but one-shots lately! Oh, well...
I own nothing. JKR's brilliance created everything.
Ginny Weasley sat on the couch of the empty Gryffindor common room, bawling.
She cried for many reasons; for the new loss of Harry as her boyfriend, for the rapid rise of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and his army, and for the death of Dumbledore, which stung afresh as they watched the marble slab settle on top of the coffin with a grim finality, a coffin that would guard Hogwarts forever.
The portrait hole swung open, revealing Fred and George, both fiddling with the collars of their 'formal' robes that Mrs. Weasley had insisted all the Weasley boys (and Harry. Somehow he always seemed to be lumped in with that lot.) wear.
George stopped in his tracks, his large grin sliding off his face as he took in his baby sister, hunched on the couch, small body wracked with sobs.
"Oh, please don't cry. It makes me so uncomfortable," Fred tried, attempting to lighten the mood.
Ginny took no notice of her older brother's comment, wrapping her pale arms around her knobby knees, rocking back and forth, much like a baby.
George approached her slowly, with as much apprehension as one would have when entering a lions den.
He softened, placing a gentle hand on her back. "Hey. What happened?"
"H-ha-harry," she stuttered, gasping for breath.
"What'd he do to you?" George's voice took on a dangerous tone, while Fred stood by, helpless.
"Nothing," she said, unwilling to deal with her brothers' fury just then.
"Hey, look! I, I, I can pull a bunny out of a hat!" Fred attempted, conjuring up a top hat, and then a small yellow bunny.
"Not helpful," George informed his twin, gesturing at their crying sister.
Ginny laughed bitterly. "You're a bloody wizard, Fred. Of course you can pull a bunny out of a hat!"
Fred slumped, defeated.
"You want us to get him for you?" George summoned a box of tissues, which Ginny took gratefully.
"No," she blew her nose noisily. " He was being 'noble'. I'll get over it."
"You sure?" George hesitantly inched away, almost on the home stretch.
"Yeah," she sniffed. "Thanks."
"Oh, and Ginny?" Fred called, halfway out the portrait hole.
"Yeah?" Ginny lifted her head.
"If he broke up with you, then I never liked him, anyway."
"Thanks, Fred." Ginny smiled, a real smile.