Present Day
If you had known Ginevra Weasley at 15, you would never have guessed the woman sitting at her dining room table, staring into a steaming mug of tea, was her. Her once lush red hair had lost its luster, and was pulled into a bun at the nape of her neck. Her deep blue eyes had lost the spark of fire that had seemed to be always burning. Her skin was pale, her freckles standing out even more. Her only reason for living, it seemed, were the twin girls in the other room, just waking up.
Had she not had them as reminders of her husband, as hope that he might one day return, she would not have made it these last 12 years. But watching them grow, become women, and their eyes, his eyes, held all in the world there was for her, any more.
"Gin, Lae!" she called, forcing cheer into her voice that wasn't totally faked. After all, she still had them. She intended to stay whole, for them. Their real names were Mina and Nepallae, but no one, not even their teachers called them that. They were the nicknames he had given them, and they had stuck. They were one more memento of the father they could only barely remember.
Lae was, as usual the first one out, which proved that her twin was at least awake. They had this uncanny intonation to each other, deeper than most identical twins, even, that meant that when one woke, so did the other, though they didn't get out of bed at the same time. Gin often complained about Lae waking too early, but it was all in humor now. She had gotten used to it, over the 15 years they had been alive.
"Yes, mum?" Lae asked, coming into the kitchen as Ginny pointed her wand at the stove and levitated their breakfast--fried eggs and bacon--onto the table. "Breakfast is served. Get your sister out here, will you?" Ginny asked her eldest, by two minuets. Lae closed her eyes for a moment, and her sister groggily came out a second later. "You rang?" she asked, her voice grumpy.
The twins were not normal, by any means. Aside from their intonation, their minds were deeply connected, far more than was normal for any set of twins. They could communicate telepathically with each other and even direct each others thoughts, if one was off guard. But their connection went even further than that. They could combine their powers. They could do things together with their wands, that no lore ever talked about, and no one could dream of doing. Not always particularly powerful--after all, they were still only fifteen--but still, things that no one else could do. And they were very advanced for their age, mentally and emotionally. They had greater grasp on their very emotion than most people had on how they showed emotion.
Ginny smiled, and in that smile there was a ghost of the beauty she once had, a ghost of her love of life. "You need to pack, Gin," Ginny said, and Gin pulled a face. "There's still a week left!" she said in a mock whine. "So? You still need to be packed. I don't want a repeat of last year."
Both the girls laughed at this. Last year, Lae had been all ready, as usual. Gin, however, had been reduced to throwing everything pell mell in her trunk in the last five minuets before they had to leave for the station. The situation, looking back, was very comical. It hadn't been at the time, though Lae had been very amused.
The two girls left to pack Gin's things, for Lae was already packed, and when they left the warm smile slipped from Ginny's lips like oil. She moved her hands, revealing the small square of parchment they had been covering when the girls had entered.
Ginevra,
The time will come. You will know what to do. But you will have to let them go.
She murmured the words under her breath, more troubled as the seconds passed. A part of her knew its meaning, but the stronger side of her wanted to think it a cruel prank, and refused to believe her instinct. Sighing as the war within her reached its pinnacle, she tapped the paper with her wand, causing it to go up in brief flames, leaving nothing but as, which disappeared with another tap. It means nothing, she thought, refusing to admit that she was only desperately trying to convince herself.