January 9, 2003

There is always that one place in a wizard's life where he feels completely at peace, where he feels safe, where he feels untouchable. For Ginny, that place was in the crowded, bustling, and continuously noisy confines of the house that she had grown up in, called the Burrow.

On the outside, it was no Malfoy Manor or Hogwarts castle by any means. The place looked as though it had been added on to countless times via magic, and the only way it stayed in tact was through enough charms and spells to rival Gringott's wizarding bank. On the inside, it felt more homely than any Malfoy Manor, and more welcoming than any Hogwarts castle. However crowded, busy, or noisy it was, the Burrow was always Ginny's favorite place to be.

As she stepped through the fireplace (Ginny figured the best way to avoid the cold weather was through the Floo Network), Ginny brushed the soot off of her robes. The living room was just how it had always been, even before Ginny had gotten married and moved into her flat with Harry. That was the one thing she loved about the Burrow; over the years, it hardly ever changed. For Ginny, the Burrow provided a sense of consistency, normalcy.

"I'm here!" she called. "And if I dare find out that someone has bewitched the bathroom sink to spew mud when I go to wash the soot off of my face, I will surely hex you with the strongest wart-conjuring charm that I can remember!" That was a memory that Ginny had wanted to forget from last year, but Fred and George would not let her live it down. And knowing Fred and George, that memory was probably going to follow Ginny to her grave.

"Ginny!" Hermione was the first to greet her, waddling as fast as she could into the living room. Ginny smiled. Although Hermione was nearly eight and a half months pregnant, she was still beautiful. It was easy to see why Ron had fallen in love with her. Hermione wrapped her in a quick hug. "I'm so glad you could make it! Where's Harry?"

Ginny shrugged. "He said he would be here. He had to work today, and he told me that he would meet me here when he was done." She cast a quick glance at the fireplace, as though Harry would suddenly appear the moment his name was said. "Let's just hope that he speaks clearly for the Floo Network. We won't want him popping into one of the fireplaces at the Malfoy Manor or anything." The witches laughed as Molly Weasley shuffled into the room in order to hug her only daughter.

"Ginny, dear! It's so good to see you again!" Molly hugged her tightly, and ran her fingers through her hair. "Where's Harry?"

"He's coming," Ginny said. A pang of annoyance shot through her. She knew that she would have to answer this question at least eight or nine more times. "Where are all the boys?" 'The boys' were Ginny's five elder brothers, excluding Percy, who hadn't spoken to the family in ages, much to the family's dismay.

Molly chuckled and pointed into the kitchen. "Bill is in the kitchen, and Ron, Fred, and George are de-gnoming the garden. Charlie won't be here tonight, seeing as there's problems in Romania right now."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "They're probably out there throwing snowballs at the gnomes instead of just tossing them out. Trying to get a rise out of them, you know, so that they can start a min-snowball war of sorts." Ginny giggled. Part of her wanted to go out there and join in on the fun, but another part of her wanted to stay inside, where it was warm. She loved the snow, but not enough to freeze to death.

"Come on in, dear. I'll fix us some tea while we wait for the turkey to finish." Molly ushered her daughter into the kitchen, where Ginny saw her eldest brother, Bill, sitting placidly at the table, drinking out of a mug. He looked the same then as he always had: long red hair tied back, his dragon-fang earring, and muggle clothing. That was one thing that Bill and Ginny had in common, they both had a strong interest in muggle clothing.

"Ginny!" he greeted cheerfully, standing up and wrapping Ginny into a warm hug.

Ginny hugged him back tightly. He smelled like cinnamon. "Hullo Bill. I haven't seen you in a long time."

"Likewise." He sat down in his seat again, and casually took a sip out of his mug. "Where's Harry?"

"On his way," Ginny answered, taking a seat at the table next to Hermione. She hoped she didn't sound as annoyed to them as she did in her own ears.

The truth was, Ginny actually had no clue as to where Harry was. Right after she had discovered that Harry had locked her out of the bathroom, Ginny went straight to bed without so much as another word to him. The mere thought of him made her blood boil with anger. She went to sleep before Harry came to bed, and when she woke up, she found that he had already left for the Ministry, which was fine with her because she could not even stand to look at him.

But, she had expected him to come home before she left for the Burrow. He had promised to go to the dinner, after all, and Harry always kept his promises. However, at quarter to six, he had still not shown up at the flat. Figuring that Harry could find his own way to the Burrow, Ginny went on without him. It was a little past six o'clock, now, and Ginny was sure that Harry would keep his promise. He would show up, eventually. It was better to be late than never to show up at all, right?

"Well we can wait for him. The turkey has at least another half an hour before its done." Although Molly was completely capable of cooking a dinner with magic, she had taken to cooking food the muggle way. Ginny supposed it had something to do with all of her children being grown up and living on their own; muggle cooking simply gave her something to do. Molly sat down at the table beside Bill. Ginny hadn't heard her mention anything about cutting his hair, or getting rid of his earring, so Ginny assumed that she had already gone through that with him before her arrival.

The back door swung open, and Ginny's elder brother Ron, poked his face into the kitchen. "I just came back to get the–Oi! Ginny's here!" There was a thunder of footsteps, and Fred and George's identical twin faces appeared in the kitchen. Ginny found herself being wrapped in a whirlwind of cold, snow-covered hugs. Although chilly, she laughed anyway. If there was ever a good thing about being the youngest child of seven children, and the only daughter, it was the fact that she had elder brothers who absolutely adored her..

"Where's Harry?" Ron asked. Ginny shrugged. Why did everyone want to know where Harry was?

Then again, she was beginning to wonder the same thing.

"He should be here any moment, he's running a little late."

Ginny felt as though she were constantly apologizing for him, which was a feeling she did not like at all. She decided that she was going to have a serious word with Mr. Potter once they got back to their apartment.

"Well that's all right," Ron said. "Better late than never." He walked over to Hermione and pecked her cheek before he and the twins disappeared upstairs. Ginny had a bad feeling about what they were up to, but decided to keep her apprehension to herself. Sometimes, it was just best to leave them to their own experiments.

Bill took a sip from his mug, and Hermione rubbed her belly thoughtfully. "I think I've decided on names," she said, grinning. Bill, Molly, and Ginny all looked up.

"What are they?" Molly asked with excitement.

Hermione snickered, "Not telling. It's going be a surprise." Her eyes followed the invisible path Ron and the twins had left behind as they had dashed up the stairs. "Doesn't matter, though," she added, "it all depends on what color hair the baby has."

"Talk about a cliffhanger," Bill chided, holding his mug up to Hermione in a mock toast. He took another sip. "You could have at least give us the names so that we could all take bets."

"We will most certainly not take bets on the name of that child!" Molly interjected, "That will end up a disaster! Don't you remember the last time there was a bet and Fred and George got involved in it?"

The three laughed, and Bill muttered something about taking bets on hair color, it they couldn't take bets on names. Ginny glanced into the door to the living room, half-expecting Harry's form to appear in the doorway. He had said he would be here, so why wasn't he here yet? Anger was beginning to rise in Ginny's chest. Harry had promised that he would be here. He promised that he would come tonight. If he didn't show up at all, tonight–if he was still at the Ministry–that was it, Ginny had told herself. She was going to have to do something drastic.

There was a shuffling in the living room, and Ginny quickly straightened up, feeling her anger wash away almost immediately. Harry was finally here! She smiled up at the doorway, only to realize that her father, Arthur, was standing in the entrance to the kitchen. The anger immediately returned even stronger, now.

"Evening, Weasleys," he greeted cheerfully, delicately dropping a kiss on the top of Hermione's head, and Ginny's cheek. He met Molly with a kiss on the lips. "Where is everyone?"

"Well, Ron and the twins are causing havoc upstairs, and Harry isn't here yet," Molly answered, pulling the chair next to her out so that her husband could sit beside her.

Arthur looked at his daughter, puzzled. "Harry isn't here yet?"

"No, he said he would get off as soon as possible, though," Ginny answered. She tried hard to keep herself from avoiding her father's gaze by looking at the table; it would be a dead giveaway that she was upset. Her father could always tell when something was wrong with his baby girl.

Arthur looked at the Weasley clock on the wall, and then scratched his head. "I figured if he had been at the Ministry, he would have been here by now..."

Ginny shrugged. Words could not describe exactly how she felt. It was deeper than sadness, and more scathing than anger. It was more biting than hatred, and more caustic than bitterness. Ginny finally gave up keeping their gazes met, and looked down at her hands on the table –more, at the ring on her finger– and then shrugged. She forced a smile at her father, hoping that he wouldn't notice how upset she was.

"He's been working really hard, lately," she said. Her voice sounded so fake to her own ears. She quickly looked over at the kitchen window, where she could see the garden-gnomes sneaking their way back into her mother's plants; she didn't want to look at her family. It would have been too easy to recognize how upset she was.

Ron and the twins appeared in the kitchen, Ron approaching Hermione from behind and placing his large Keeper's hands on her shoulders. Hermione put her hands on his.

"Is Harry here yet?" He asked. Ginny suddenly felt like screaming. Why was Harry the only thing they could ask about? Couldn't they ask about anything else? "I'm starving."

"No," Ginny finally said. "But let's start anyway. I'm sure he'll show up sooner or later."

Suddenly, dinner didn't seem like a good idea. Suddenly, Ginny felt like she just wanted to go home.

- - -

An hour and a half after Ginny had dinner, she took the Floo Network back to the flat. Harry had not showed up, and Ginny had to constantly make up excuses as to why he would miss it. As she stepped out of the fireplace and into the living room of the flat, she kicked her shoes off. She thought about sliding them under the kitchen table, like she always did because Harry hated tripping over shoes that had been left in the middle of the floor, but she decided against it. Why should she bother, anyway? It wasn't like Harry had bothered in coming to dinner as he had promised, after all. Ginny felt terrible that he hadn't shown up. Molly had invited him, too, and Ginny had told her that he would be there.

She wanted a shower. A shower to wash Harry off of her. She needed it. She padded into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. The fuzzy white carpet in the middle of the bathroom floor ticked here toes. She turned the tap on, and slowly began shedding her clothing.

As her blouse fluttered to the floor on top of her rumpled robes, she examined her body in the mirror. What was so wrong with her that Harry didn't want her anymore? Ginny had always been of short stature, and had always been petite. Harry had told her once that her being so 'tiny' made her all the more 'desirable' to him. Ginny turned in the mirror, eyeing a tiny birthmark on her shoulder blade. It was more or less a blob, but somewhat resembled a butterfly. Her mother had once told her that she had gotten the birthmark when her father accidentally dropped his wand when he discovered that he finally had a baby girl. Little pink sparks had shot out of the end of his wand as it hit the floor, and one had happened to strike her shoulder. Ginny had been fine, of course, but carried the scar that she was quite fond of.

She could remember the first time that Harry had ever noticed it. She had snuck into the Gryffindor boys' dormitory during her sixth year, and had climbed into his bed. He had been kissing her neck when his fingertips had brushed the scar on her shoulder blade.

Ginny shook her head, exiling the memory. She shed her black skirt and knickers, and stepped into the shower, feeling the water trail down her body. A frown crossed her face. Hotter. The water needed to be hotter. She had to wash Harry off of her. She had to wash him out of her skin. Ginny turned the water up, closing her eyes and feeling the hot spray on her back. She groaned in frustration. It still wasn't hot enough.

Soon, the water was almost scalding. Her skin prickled. Ginny looked down and realized that her legs and feet were as red as her hair. Still, the water wasn't hot enough to wash Harry away. Ginny felt tears blurring her vision. If she made the water any hotter, surely she would burn herself. Her throat constricted, and Ginny swallowed the lump that had formed. She braced herself on the wall of the shower, and sobbed.

She was still crying when she turned the tap off and stepped out, wrapping herself in a large white towel. She dried herself off, slipping into a pair of black sweat pants and a white halter top, and pulling her long hair into a dripping plait. Ginny could never remember a time when her hair fell above her shoulder blades. Her hair was the one thing she loved about herself. Despite the fact that red hair was a very common – if not necessary – trait to have in her family, it was quite uncommon elsewhere in the wizarding world. Her mother had always encouraged her to wear her hair very long. "It gives you grace, poise, and elegance, dear," she had said.

Ginny slowly made her way into her bedroom and looked around. The bed had not been made since that morning, and the rumpled sheets, although spotless, looked dirty. Harry had slept on them. Harry had tossed and turned on them. Ginny didn't want to touch the sheets. Instead, she walked over to the closet door and swung it opened. She spotted her old Hogwarts trunk sitting forgotten in the corner, and yanked it out of the dusty darkness. She plopped the trunk into an old chair, and began carefully folding clothes and packing them inside.She would have done all of her packing by wand, but decided that it would be safer to do them by hand. The last time she had tried to perform magic when she was this angry, she had accidentally broken on old vase that she had found in Diagon Alley.

She was half-way through packing her socks when she heard Harry open the front door to the apartment and kick his shoes under the kitchen table. He appeared a moment later in the bedroom doorway.

"Are we going somewhere?" He asked. Ginny took a brief second to acknowledge his presence. He was leaning on the doorframe in his Ministry robes, a casual smirk on his face and his arms crossed.

'How dare he have that stupid smile on his face!' Ginny thought. 'It's as though he thinks its all a big joke!'

"I am. You're not," she said curtly, throwing her folded Mediwitch's robes into her bag.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked with interest. Ginny ignored him.

Silently, he crept up behind her and trailed his forefinger down her plait. He snaked his arms low around her waist and grazed his lips against her neck. Ginny straightened up and let out a deep breath through her nose.

"Get off me, Harry. Now." She growled. Harry began rocking back and forth, trailing little kisses down her neck. "I said, get off me Harry. Right... now."

Harry took the hint this time, and gently pulled away. His brow was knit. "Ginny? Are you all right?"

"Sod off."

There was a stunned pause as Ginny went back to folding. She only had two more pairs of Mediwitch's robes to fold and pack before she was done.

"Ginny... what did I do?"

"Nothing."

"So then.. why are you angry at me?"

Ginny stopped folding the robes in her hands, and looked straight ahead through the bedroom windows. Across the street, her neighbor, Jack, was reading a book in his overstuffed armchair. She let out another huff through her nose, making sure to tell herself to count to ten before she exploded.

'...1, 2, 3...'

"Why are you mad at me, Ginny?" Harry asked again. His voice was soft. Almost as though he genuinely didn't know what was wrong with her. 'How could he not know?' Ginny asked herself furiously. 'How he could not have known what he did?'

'...4, 5, 6, 7...'

"Gin, talk to me," his voice was almost begging. Whining. The irritating sound made Ginny want to slap him. Ginny's eyes narrowed, never moving away from the elderly bald-headed wizard across the street. "Please?"

'...8, 9...10.'

Finally, Ginny whirled, snatching her wand from her pocket and pointing it at the infamous lightning bolt-shaped scar in the middle of his forehead. "You want to know what's wrong with me Harry? You did nothing! As in you didn't do anything! That's what's wrong with me, Harry! You don't do anything! You don't come home anymore, you don't eat dinner with me anymore, you don't make love to me anymore!"

Harry opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head vigorously, throwing her hair out of her face, "No, you listen to me, Harry!" She began toward him, her voice getting louder and louder with each step she took. Harry's back met the bedroom wall. "You don't love me, anymore! All you love is the Merlin-foresaken Ministry, and fucking that bloody tart you call your secretary!"

His face contorted with confusion. But Ginny didn't care. She wanted to say this. She needed to say this. He could feign all the confusion he wanted, Ginny was not about to let up.

"Oh, bloody hell, Harry! Don't you dare try to act like you have no clue as to what I'm talking about! Coming home late at night, leaving before I wake up. Missing out on family dinners! A FAMILY DINNER THAT YOU PROMISED TO GO TO! What else would you be doing at the Ministry? Having a tea party with the white rabbit and the mad hatter!"She was screaming now, screaming so loud that she felt like her face was about to peel off. Screaming so loud that she felt like a demon was about to unzip her body like a Halloween costume, and step right out of it. She pointed her wand threateningly at his Adam's apple.

"I'm tired of this, Harry! I'm tired of you acting as though I don't even exist! I'm tired of you leaving in the morning without even saying goodbye! I'm tired of you coming home after I've gone to bed without so much as a good night! I'm tired of you lying to me! I'm tired of you breaking your bloody promises!"

"Ginny, I–"

Ginny pushed the wand into his throat. He yelped, and swallowed heavily. "I've had it, Harry! I'm tired of all the lying, and I'm tired of all of your broken promises!"

"But–"

Ginny shook her head, stopping Harry in mid-sentence. He knew she wasn't going to listen. Her wand was still poised at Harry's throat. She stared into his eyes.

There had once been a time when Ginevra Weasley had been deeply in love with those eyes. There had once been a time when Ginevra Weasley wanted nothing more than to fall into those eyes and be the center of their owner's universe. There had once been a time when Ginevra Weasley had thought that when she looked into those eyes, she was looking deep into the soul of the wizard that she was going to spend the rest of her life with. But those times were gone, now. Those times were over. The dizzying feelings she had once thought was true love, the butterflies she used to get in her stomach at the mere mention of his name, the smile that made her melt into a pile of red-headed mush were all over. Gone. Those times were completely lost.

"So I'm leaving," she finally said, her voice much more calm now. She lowered her wand to her side and took a deep breath. "I'm leaving."

There was a long, almost unbearable, pause. Ginny could feel tears prickle at the back of her eyes, but she forced them away. She didn't want to cry. She didn't want to appear vulnerable. If she were to appear vulnerable, then she would become vulnerable. If she became vulnerable, then she would fall right back into his arms again. Fall right back into his trap.

'Say something,' she thought desperately, 'say something, please.'

"You're what?" he finally said. His voice was feeble.

"I'm leaving," she repeated simply. The tears weren't prickling anymore; they were stinging like acid. But she continued to force them away. She was not vulnerable. She was not going to be vulnerable.

Harry swallowed. "What do you mean... you're leaving?"

Ginny turned back to packing her Mediwitch's robes. She was about to fold them, but just gave up, tossed the robes into her trunk, and closed it. "I mean exactly what I said: I'm leaving."

She didn't turn around to look at Harry. She didn't have to. She knew exactly what he looked like. He was standing still –very still– against the bedroom wall, his emerald eyes wide. He would look sad, angry, confused, and shocked–all at once.

"Ginny..." he said weakly.

"Harry, forget it. I'm leaving."

"But, Love–"

Ginny whirled around, knocking the trunk to the floor. "Don't 'love' me. I've made up my mind, and you're not going to change it. You made me look so stupid over there, Harry. You promised you would be there, and you didn't show up. I had to make up excuses as to why you wouldn't come. You made me look stupid. You made me look foolish. And what's worse: you made me look stupid and foolish in front of my family. The people who, I shouldn't have to lie to. The people who I love. You made me look so stupid in front of them."

Harry's eyes were glassy, as though his tears had moved to the front lines, but they refused to move into enemy territory. She tore her eyes away from his. She was not going to be vulnerable. She was not going to be bloody vulnerable.

"Ginny," he said. His voice wasn't wavering anymore; it was shaking. "Ginny, listen to me. Something came up at the Ministry, there was no way that I could get out of it."

Ginny shook her head, her red locks falling in front of her face. "No, Harry. What you're doing to me is unfair," she reached down and picked her trunk up off of the floor. "When you decide to love me again, like you used to, owl me."

She began toward the bedroom door, but stopped.

"And until you decide to love me again, my name isn't Ginny. It's Ginevra."

The tears were piercing now. But she was not going to cry. She briskly swept out of the flat and out into the street, leaving a stunned Harry behind. As she stepped into the snow, she stopped and looked up at the lit window that looked into her bedroom. The wizard she once thought she was in love with was probably still standing there, in shock. For a brief moment, she wondered what he was thinking.

Snow began to fall again. Small, sweet, delicate flakes falling from a blackened sky. Ginny let her head fall back on her shoulders, feeling the tiny flakes licking her face and nestling in her hair. She closed her eyes.

"You know, there's no doubt about it," Harry said gently, cupping her chin in his gloved hands. Although it was bitterly, bitterly cold, his fingers were warm. Ginny looked up into his face. His nose was pink. He smiled, green eyes sparkling from behind his glasses. "You are absolutely breathtaking when you've been sprinkled with snow."

"I only wish you had truly meant it when you said it, Harry." Ginny whispered. She wondered if his secretary was absolutely breathtaking when she was sprinkled with snow, and if he had ever told her so. The thought was enough to make the burning behind her eyes even worse. She opened her eyes. A snowflake landed on the very tip of her nose and dissolved in an instant, much like her love for Harry had dissolved.

A tear slipped down her cheek. And then another. Vulnerability wasn't an option, anymore.