"No bloody way!"

The twins stared at her, disbelief written on their faces. They were grinning from ear to ear, and Ginny would have laughed out loud at their faces had she not been so determined to prove her sincerity. "I'm certain I'm going to go through with this", she spoke firmly in answer, her sparkling eyes daring them to shoot her down.

Just as she had hoped, they did not consider it for a second.

Fred rubbed his hands together. "We'll cause a distraction, won't we Georgie?"

"Naturally", came the reply.

By reflex, Ginny was a little surprised at the complete acceptance the twins had of her plan. "Thats it, no "you're too young Ginny"?". The twins smirked coyly

"Ron's our brother, Harrys our friend, and Hermione, well, she's Hermione. We would be after them ourselves, but we had a sneaking suspicion you might want claim this one, given... well, Harry".

The twins laughter only intensified when they noticed that her face was now a similar shade to her hair. Nobody who had not lost their marbles would consider Fred and George booksmart, but they were sharp of wit and mind alike, when they wanted to be.

Calming a little, Fred continued; "Well, if you go by broom, you better take one of ours, they're newer and faster. But you can't carry it around London... and the Ministry could track you if you floo..."

There was silence as the three red haired siblings pondered the issue.

George clicked his fingers suddenly, a small grin gracing his features; "Greengots!"

His siblings looked blankly at him.

"Greengots! Use the family vault and deposit the broom. Since it's a family account, you can access it. You're of the same blood."

Ginny was still blinking at him. She spoke. "That's our parents vault, I'm underage, how can I access it?".

"Trust me, you can. You just need to be closely related to the owner, no other strings attached. We use the full extent of Greengots services for the shop, they don't teach you these things in school, but we learned quickly. Family vaults are somewhat, beneficial to enterprises like ours, wouldn't you say, Fred?"

Fred just laughed. Ginny's forehead creased. "Beneficial? What makes one vault better then the next?..." Ginny's eyes widened. "You're avoiding Ministry tax!"

"Now now, our advice will serve you quiet nicely, so I don't think you're in a good position to argue our motives. Besides, we're at war. Business is far from booming". Ginny rolled her eyes.

She would never betray her older brothers regardless, but they also knew everything about her plan, and could let details "slip". She just thanked them, then disappeared to her room, pretending not to hear her mother call her. She needed to pack, and to think without being interrupted.

Walking into her room, Ginny closed the door and went to her wardrobe. She instinctively donned her knitted Weasley jumper, hand made by her mother each Yule, and wrapped herself in blankets that had piled up in a corner over time. She could feel a little of spoiled sanctity of her haphazardly-perched home returning.

When she had been a child, only in the darkest of her nightmares would Death Eaters tread in the same garden she had, growing up. Only in her wildest fantasies would she be running away with the Boy Who Lived, the hero who had featured her picture-books. While not quite as she had imagined, both of these unlikely impossibilities were now very much real.

"It's a pity I'm still running after Harry, not with him", she laughed to herself. The young Gryffindor found it hard to stay angry with him. She always had.

The weather had cleared, the clouds there by nature of the Dark Mark having dissipated. However the countryside still lay blanketed in night. Perched on her bed, Ginny came to the realisation that if she was going through with this, that now was the time. Noises sounded from the stairwell and two pairs of feet moved past her room. She imagined her parents were going to 'catch some shuteye', as the Weasley Patriarch often called it. Just one of his many quirky catchphrases, absorbed from Muggle literature, which the rest of the family claimed to hate but secretly laughed at when no one was looking. With the obstacle of her parents out of the way, she could move more freely, and the darkness would cover her from any eyes gazing out of windows.

There was another thing to consider. The longer she waited, the more likely it became that the trio would move on from London. Not even Ginny, brave and determined as she was, could comb the entire English countryside. It had to happen tonight.

She spent a final few minutes sitting in her room. Looking around, she took in her belongings. Many were childish, old books and toys. She did not have it in her to throw them out; they reminded her of better days. She buried that thought as deep as she could.

She did not miss the Burrow just yet. It would hit her later, she knew.

Ginny stood and walked over to her window, the view half-lit by pale moonlight. She traced random patterns idly on the pane with her finger, lost in thought.

There was a possibility that she would be gone for a long stretch of time, if Harry let her stay with them. She may not return, at all. The trio were fighting a real war, where there were real casualties. Not everyone would make it through. Ginny was intelligent; this had all occurred to her before, but she felt as if she could not quite appreciate what she was undertaking. This was running away, away from everything she knew.

She would be with Harry, though, and that made up for it, tenfold.

Ginny had never been soppy, but when it came to Harry, things were different.

"Come on Ginny, you're stalling..." she whispered lowly to her quaint reflection, then laid her forehead against the glass, trying to push herself into action. It was time.

Getting downstairs was easy. She often came down to settle by the dying embers of the fire when she found it difficult to sleep. She was accustomed to every creak and loose floorboard.

The grate was cold, and there was almost no light, but Ginny had grown up in this kitchen, and could find her way around blindly; lumos might have been bright enough to wake someone. It was not worth the risk.

It could only get more difficult from here.

The witch crawled on hands and knees, to be sure of not hitting anything, towards the front door. The surface beneath her palms was cold, very cold, and she shivered slightly. She had more clothes in her backpack, but had forgotten gloves. Then again, where she was going, not having gloves would be the least of her worries.

Ginny almost stopped right there and turned around, back to her bed. She'd wake up to the smell of breakfast cooking, to the constant symphony of movement and doing that was the Weasley Household. She could pretend that nothing had changed, that nothing mattered just like old times.

Her heart was breaking in half. One half yearned for safety and security and family. The other for adventure, and life, and love.

"This isn't choosing. You can always turn right around and fly home if you like", a voice inside her head spoke, consoling.

And so she kept moving.

The night air was damp, as if the sky wanted to rain but could not quiet bring itself to. Ginny wrapped her arms around herself, shivering. She had flown in similar conditions before. As long as the rain was light, when it came, visibility would be perfect. The cold could be a bigger problem, but Hermione had shown her a few warming charms during the last quidditch season, and she was sure she could remember a few.

She turned to look back at her home. A single light was on, and Ginny immediately crouched, cursing. This was not the time to be seen. A hand waved from the window, and Ginny breathed a sigh of relief when she realised the light was emitting from Fred and George's room.

She waved back, a small smile on her lips.

The witch reached the shed, and examined her options. Fred's broom was newer then her's and George's, so she grabbed it, tying her bag securely to the handle with a piece of old string that had been left on the floor of the old, wooden shed. She did not dare think of the implications of what she was doing, especially her mother's reaction. The rest of her family could handle Molly's wrath, as they had many times before.

Ginny hoped that the majority of her family would support her choice - they were just as affected by the war as her. Her brothers would understand her drive to fight. Her father would do his best to keep her mother calm, but she hoped he would be a little proud of the independence she was seizing. She really hoped.

"Gotta stay focused, get a broom, fly away, find Harry. Simple, right?".

Willing her suddenly guilty conscious to leave her be, she threw a leg on either side of the handle. Madam Hooche's voice spoke in her mind; a memory from her very first flying lesson.

"Breath in, push from the knees, kick hard..."

And she was away.

Thoughts formed in her mind as she flew; "Away into the night sky, path lit by moonlight, under guidance of stars."

It was a muggle poem her Dad liked. It fitted the occasion well.

Her mind was a mess, a jumble of memories and thoughts; and she soon realised why. Her flying was slightly off - the alcohol was still effecting her. She was not all there, and fear gripped her suddenly for the first time since concocting her plan. She could imagine the story that would be told if she did not make it...

"Poor little Ginny, got a little tipsy and decided to fall off her broom over London City. Took ages for the Ministry to clean that one up".

"What am I doing!?", she yelled at herself, words catching in the wind that was blowing her hair into her face, obscuring what little she could see in the moonlight.

She heard a voice like Harry's in her head; "Persevere!"

"That sounded like the heroic bull that you're prone to spouting!", Ginny yelled at nothing over the wind. Yet she gritted her teeth, and flew.

Time passed, yet the sun had not ventured from beyond the horizon when Ginny saw Diagon Alley appear below her. She had been flying over the outskirts of London for some time, staying high to avoid being spotted. She had never been more glad to see the small Wizarding community.

She had been a little apprehensive of landing in Diagon Alley, everyone took the flew network or apparated there. "I hope it's magically possible to land at all...": Who knew what the Ministry, under its new management, may have already changed? At the same time, landing in Central London on a flying broom definitely not an option either. Below her, she spotted an small, open yard behind the Leaky Cauldron, with a number of brooms stacked on rails. It was lit by a number of lanterns, a stark contrast to the dark surrounding it; business owners having closed for the night. It wasn't clear if the yard was used for public landing or private storage, but Ginny decided to risk it.

Time spent as a Seeker for Gryffindor had taught her how to quickly fall into steep dive, with accuracy, and she landed almost exactly where she had meant to. "150 points to Gryffindor", she laughed to herself, smiling broadly, then leapt off the borrowed broom. She didn't quiet trust the locals and usuals of the Cauldron - she was close enough to Knockturn Alley as it was - so she tied the broom to her pack, secured under her backpack.

Ginny noticed then what she hadn't from the sky; the small yard was segregated from Diagon Alley.

"Ah, fudge...", Ginny groaned. She was surrounded by high walls, and the back entrance to the public house seemed very locked. "Could probably fly over...?". The statement became a question that hung in the air.

She debated for a moment longer, then tried to think of what Fred and George would do. An obvious answer would be to blow the wall out of the way. Or avoid it entirely...?

A memory played out in her minds eye: ... Running with brothers through fields... The sun setting; they needed to get home or Mom would be livid... Approaching a fence, the girl cried a warning, but her brothers didn't slow, instead lifted her clean off her feet as they leapt clear of the wire... Fred and George laughing as she screamed then landed, safely supported by their arms either side, gripping her tightly...

"Okay boys, this ones for you..."

Ginny was heavier and larger then in the past, but she was stronger too. She ran, she jumped, tucked her knees...

Clear! Ginny landed with a heavy thud in a heap in an abandoned Diagon Alley. She stood, shaken but very much alive with all her bones intact. "Ginny: one; wall; zero!", her cry turning to whisper in diminuendo instinctively as she surveyed the empty street.

The witch gasped as she reached beside her, feeling the broom for damage. She'd forgotten all about it! It did not seem worse for wear, so she allowed herself to breath out shakily. To think what the twins would have said if it had snapped! Anyone who had ever suffered the effects of their various products totally feared the twin's retribution. "Stay calm and think before you act, Gin!", she chastised herself, rolling her eyes before moving off in the direction of Greengots.

Diagon Alley was a little creepy by night. It was unusually dark with the storefronts closed for the night, and there was no one about. She knew the nightlife of the alley usually concentrated around Knockturn Alley, but she heard no strange noises as she walked by. Perhaps even the lowlife of Wizarding Britain feared the Dark Lord. Despite the appearance that the alley was devoid of life, Ginny thought she could feel eyes on her as she walked. It was not a good feeling, and she couldn't help but feel insecure, her hair whirling about as she glanced back over her shoulder every minute or two. She hurried, drawing her wand, for what little comfort the long thin stick offered.

Greengots soon appeared out of the dark before her. She had never been more pleased to see the marble columns stretched above her head.

Ginny hurried inside, ducking the low, goblin-sized door. The bank was as busy as ever. She had been expecting this, however. Not even the Dark Lord could scare the Goblins. As Bill often said, they didn't care about Wizards unless it had something to do with gold, and Wizarding affairs are not their concern, until they directly affected them. There was one thing to be said for Volemort's return, Ginny mused: she seemed to be the only witch in sight. The Goblins worked as they always did, but they had no customers to serve. "They probably prefer it that way," she muttered, but cast her eyes done when she realised that she was being watched. She chuckled. Ginny Weasley seemed the only soul brave enough to venture out tonight, she must look crazy.

She approached the counter at top of the room. This would be the difficult part; Ginny had no idea what to do, she had used Greengots' services before. She had never needed to. Her parents or older brothers often took care of this type of thing. Ginny crossed her fingers behind her back, a muggle habit she'd picked up from Harry.

The Goblin's blank expression of feigned disinterest was betrayed by sparkling, calculating eyes. She felt as through her value was being judged by the small creature. She stopped, waiting.

"Greetings. How may the Bank of Greengots serve you this night?"

Ginny cleared her throat, feeling as if she had swallowing a lump. "I... I would like to access my Family Vault. Please."

"Please submit your wand for examination and place your hand on this sigil for identification, madam".

Ginny faltered. Nobody in her family had ever been asked to preform these checks before. A spike of panic shot through her. The Goblin seemed to read her mind. "New instructions arrived from the Ministry today. Please comply".

Begrudgingly, and with growing fear, she handed her wand to the Goblin. He studied it for a brief moment before handing it back. He then gestured to a strange circular symbol on the desk. Ginny raised her hand slowly and rested it on the desk. There was a glow from between her fingers, and a disembodied voice spoke: "Weasley - Pureblood".

Ginny's mouth fell open. Why did her blood status matter? Again, as if speaking to a child, the Goblin drawled, "As a Pureblood Witch, no excess Ministry Tax has been applied to your account. Please follow me".

Ginny was horrified. The Death Eater-controlled Ministry had acted quickly. She dumbly followed the Goblin. The journey was a blur of doors lit by torchlight. Reality seemed to have caught up with her, and the implications of a new, darker government with it. Ginny knew that she would have to find Harry quickly before Death Eaters, or even the Ministry forced the Trio to run even further.

They stopped before a large, old iron door. The flickering lamplight caused a chill to run down her spine, but she forced herself steady. The Goblin drew his finger downwards before the door, and an elongated shadow cast on the door followed. The door creaked open.

She was surprised to see that the vault was empty, but Ginny soon remembered that her parents probably did not even know that this vault existed. The Twins had made it out to be a lesser known trick after all...

She took the broom from her back, and placed it gently in the vault, then stepped back, a small sense of triumph growing within her. The first part of her mission was completed, and it had gone off, more or less, without a hitch. The Goblin closed the vault door as Ginny turned her back to it. She was sensitive to the passage of time now. She had to hurry.

The journey to the Bank's main chamber was a blur once more. She moved quietly through the building and exited the way she had come in. Diagon Alley was still shrouded in darkness, but she did not dare light her way. If the Ministry really was totally corrupted, then trouble could lurk around any corner.

The Leaky Cauldron's back entrance, disguised as a brick wall, appeared ahead of her, to her relief. This, at least, was a part of Diagon Alley that she was familiar with. She had always liked the tavern styled building - it was a little rugged, like home. It was here that the Weasley clan had often made camp for longer excursions and shopping trips in years gone by. Now, however, the Cauldron seemed as deserted as the rest of the Wizarding community. No lights shone from the inside, and the wall, when prodded, didn't budge. Ginny sighed. She didn't see any option but to apparate to the Muggle entrance. Inexperienced as she was with Apparition, she was sure that she could make it that far, without even splicing herself. Hopefully.

Ginny stepped back from the brick wall, took a deep breath, and spun.

She felt a horrible, sickening feeling, then found herself standing dizzily on the front steps of the Leaky Cauldron. The noise was deafening. Objects flew by in a blur. Everything was bathed in a yellow, artificial light. A stampede of muggles on foot walked by, all moving purposefully, and Ginny jumped back out of the way into the doorway of the Leaky Cauldron. As the objects slowed she realised that she had been looking at muggle cars, moving at breakneck speeds into the night. Now they had stopped, bathed in red light.

It was incredible, alien and frightening. She felt a sudden, all encompassing need to get away, to get anywhere but here. She joined the throng and was carried forward into the night.