A Time to Weep

Ginny stared up at the sky, one leg hooked over the windowsill she sat on. She was exhausted. She'd been working several shifts a week in Twillfit & Tatting's hoping to pick up any useful scrap of gossip – being pureblood meant that customers were more 'comfortable' around her.

Ginny hated it. Most of the customers were fine, but there were some…it was all she could do to bite her lip and keep herself from cursing their tongues off. The only reason she hadn't was that she had managed to pass on at least one piece of semi-useful information – though Tonks had refused to tell her what it was.

She still had to go into Hogwarts twice a week to teach the DA; she and Neville were helping Elphias Doge plan the Dark Arts Defence League's annual gala; she helped Tonks and other members of the Order patrol the Hogwarts corridors at night (on the strict understanding that she was to run if anything actually happened); and someone had to help Luna kick out her customers on the nights when Aberforth wasn't in the Hog's Head.

Ginny had a suspicion that McGonagall was giving them so much (boring) work to do as a way of dulling their enthusiasm and encouraging them to go back to school. She was ashamed to say that there were times when she thought it might be working.

Somehow, Ginny had hoped to make an actual difference – to save Muggle babies from Death Eaters holding them at wand point – but it wasn't working out that way. It didn't matter how much they complained or rebelled – Minerva McGonagall would never put Hogwarts students in the path of danger.

It was just hard sometimes – Diagon Alley wasn't nearly as busy as it had been when Ginny was younger, and there were times when the shop was completely empty for an hour or more. With nothing to do except look at the various robes, many of which were beautiful, Ginny often felt a pang for Louise and Jules. They would have loved looking at them.

Ginny shivered, as she looked at the moon, round and bright and remote above her. Lupin would suffer through another change tonight, and Greyback… Ginny didn't want to think about what Geyback would do.

There were times when she felt very lonely. It wasn't just missing Jules and Louise – or Harry and Ron and Hermione – though of course that was part of it. The Burrow was very empty these days – not the bustling, overheated place she'd known since childhood. Her father was busy with Ministry business, and her Mum worked almost full time for the Order. On top of that, none of her brothers were living at home any longer. Ginny was always listening out for an argument over Quidditch, or Ron's elephantine tramp on the stairs, or…but it was always quiet.

Tonight at least, the twins were in – harassed into babysitting her by their mother. She would have been grateful for the company, but they were being very cloak and dagger – muttering obsessively over something in the kitchen – and Ginny knew she had limited patience for that kind of behaviour.

Sighing, Ginny hauled herself off the windowsill, and picked up her wand. She was sick of this. It was her first night off in nearly a week, and she was definitely not going to waste it moping.

She tucked her wand into her back pocket and hurried downstairs. Ignoring Fred's huff of irritation she took a bottle of pumpkin juice out of the fridge and snagged two chocolate biscuits. She ate them standing up at the worktop, enjoying the cool way the fruit juice slid down her throat. When she was finished she flipped her hair over one shoulder airily and said, "I'm going for a quick fly, okay?"

George shook his head, "Ginny, Mum said you weren't to…"

"I won't go far," she said, a little pleadingly, she had to admit. "Promise. Just up to the meadow and back. When Harry was here he could go further than that."

Fred looked as though he really wanted to make a joke at that, but when he caught her eye he shook his head sadly. George had his jaw set at a stubborn angle and said, "Ginny, I really don't think it's a good idea."

"Oh come on, George," she said. "I'll only be gone five minutes. It can be our little secret."

He looked uncomfortable for a moment or two and then gave in. "Fine in," he said, "But if Mum comes back before then – "

"It'll be on my head, I know," Ginny said, going to hug him. "But it doesn't matter – you'll still be the best brother in the world."

"Oi!" Fred protested, looking wounded.

"Well," Ginny added hurriedly. "One of."

They grinned at her, and Ginny went out of the door smiling. It was the work of a moment to get her broom out of the shed, and seconds later Ginny was soaring up into the air. It was quite chilly, and after a moment's thought Ginny summoned a hoodie and a pair of gloves from her bedroom. Putting them on in midair was something of a feat, but like Ron, Ginny didn't like the cold.

It was a beautiful night for flying though. There was very little wind but the air was crisp and bracing in her lungs, and Ginny could have sworn she felt the moonlight on her skin like silk.

She pushed her broom as far as it could go, twisting and turning like a mad thing, and laughing as it bucked against her hands. It wasn't really cut out for this kind of thing, and eventually Ginny had to settle down to a less adventurous style of flying.

When she reached the meadow she dove, the bristles of her broom just touching the tips of the long grass. Charlie had told her how to make crop circles years before, but this was the first time Ginny had ever tried it. When she flew up to survey her handiwork she saw that she'd only succeeded in making a rather wonky circle, but for now it would have to do.

There was something slightly eerie about the effect of the moonlight on the grass, and Ginny decided to head back to the house. She was growing cold, and she had a feeling that a large mug of hot chocolate was just the thing to cheer her up before she went to bed. She had to owl Neville about lunch the next day as well.

She was mentally composing the note she'd send as she flew over the forest, and it took her a moment to realise what was happening. She could hear the clash and sizzle of competing spells, and when she came over the hill she saw that the twins were fighting five Death Eaters.

Slowing her broom down, Ginny pulled her wand out of her pocket and fired off two Stunners, picking off two of the twins' attackers. As they fell to the ground the remaining combatants turned to face her, and Ginny heard one, or both, of her brothers shout "No!"

A moment later a bright green curse – the Killing Curse in fact – was speeding towards her. Ginny had barely a moment to think, let alone dodge, and she reacted the only way she knew how – twisting the broom upwards in a movement so sharp she almost damaged her wrist.

A moment later something rocked the broom so badly that it fell apart between her legs, and Ginny was flung into a tree. It was somewhat comforting to know that she wasn't dead, she thought, as the ground rushed towards her. Then everything went black.

"Ow."

That was Ginny's first word when she woke up. She was lying on the forest floor, her wand still clenched in one hand. She hurt all over. Her head hurt, her throat hurt, her legs hurt, and she had any number of cuts and grazes. Trying to ascertain whether it was wise to move or not, Ginny noticed that the sky was green.

That couldn't be right, surely?

She had to take a deep breath and try to process her thoughts – her brain was sluggish. The sky was green…green…

Ginny swore loudly as she sat up suddenly. She knew exactly what the green light was – or thought she did – and she had to get back to the Burrow immediately. It didn't matter if she'd dislocated her shoulder (well, it mattered – it mattered to such a degree that it might easily overwhelm her ability to think). Her wand arm was still good, and that was the main thing.

She tried to run through the trees, but between her shoulder and a twisted right knee it was just too difficult – she was gasping in pain all the time – and she allowed herself to slow to a walk.

It wasn't possible anyway.

Ginny gritted her teeth as she reached the edge of the forest. She could see it, floating above her house – her house, her home, the place she loved most in the world…a great, ugly snake, hissing and flicking its tongue, and…

Ginny felt faint for a moment.

No.

No.

No, no, no, no, no…

She broke into a run then, her gait lopsided as she sped towards the house. She didn't care if they heard her, she didn't care if the Death Eaters came back, she didn't care…

"Fred! George!"

Ginny came to a skidding stop as she saw where Fred and George lay. They were very still.

"No. Please, no. Please, no, no, don't be…"

She fell to her knees beside them. There was a streak of blood on Fred's cheek, and it looked as though…as though.

George had been blinded.

Ginny sobbed, her gut rising up within her. Fred and George were…were…

She turned away from them and threw up. They weren't dead, they couldn't…wouldn't…

But when she turned back they were still lying there – Fred's eyes staring glassily up at the sky, and George was…

Ginny put a hand on Fred's shoulder, trying to shake him, trying to wake him. "Come on Fred, come on. Please, please…please don't be…"

She heard something howl in the distance as she pleaded with her brothers, and then there was a sharp crack behind her. For a moment Ginny didn't have the strength of mind to turn around – it could be the Death Eaters, come back to finish the job, it could be the Order…it could be her Mum.

At that thought Ginny bit her lip and turned around. She didn't want to have to tell her Mum that Fred and George were…were…were dead. She couldn't bear it.

There was a substantial group of people staring at her – Remus Lupin, Tonks, Kingsley Shacklebolt, and others – and Ginny's lip started to tremble as Remus said, "Ginny, what happened?"

She shook her head, trying desperately not to cry, and then Ron edged his way to the front of the group. "Ginny?"

She shook her head, trying to hold back a sob, and Remus repeated himself. "What happened?"

She stammered despite herself. "I…I found them."

"Found them like what?" Ron said, joining her. "What's wrong with them?"

Ginny bit her lip. "They're…they're…"

"No," Ron said, grabbing her arm, "They're not. They're not, Ginny."

She cried out in pain – Ron looked horrified and said, "Ginny… Are you okay?"

"It's nothing," she said, "I'm fine, I just…"

She heard Tonks' voice say, "We have to get her out of here."

"No!" Ginny shook her head vehemently. "I'm not leaving them – I won't. I won't!"

"Ginny, please…you have to see a Healer."

"I don't care! I don't care about…any of that."

The night air was chilly, and it seemed that all Ginny could see was George's bloodstained face, Fred's blank eyes… She should have been there. She should have helped them, not…

There was a hand on her good shoulder, a voice saying, "Ginny. Ginny, come on."

Slowly she pulled herself to her feet, hissing with pain as she jolted her shoulder. Harry tried, and failed, to smile at her, but Ginny could barely manage a nod. She felt numb.

Remus looked her over and said, "Can you Floo, Ginny?"

She had to think for long moments about her answer. "I don't know…my arm…"

Remus shook his head and picked a long stick off the ground, touching it with his wand and saying, "Portus."

Ron stared at him. "We're not going!"

"Think about it Ron," Tonks said, "We have to get away in case they come back – we can't…"

"But, but…Fred and George…we can't just leave them." Ron sounded as though he might cry.

"And we won't," Remus said, "But Ron…look at Ginny. We can't linger."

Hermione slipped her hand into his, "We should go, Ron."

He really looked as though he was about to break down, and more than anything Ginny wanted to hug him but…she felt as though she couldn't move, as though her hands were being pulled down by some weight. It was all she could do to touch the Portkey Remus held out to her.

They were immediately transported to Grimmauld Place, and the upset cries of her father and mother. Ever after Ginny could remember only fragments of that evening – a Healer arriving to fix her shoulder, Remus saying that they'd been given a tip-off that there might be an attack but it had arrived too late, Ron sitting with his head in his hands and Hermione stroking his back… It was all she could do to explain what had happened – Harry's face grew pale when she mentioned the Killing Curse.

It didn't feel real.

Even the next morning, when it ought to have sunk in, it still didn't feel real. Ginny could hear the twins' laughter, could almost see the way they would grin at all the fuss…

She tried her best to help her mother – her Mum couldn't seem to settle to anything, had to be up and doing or she would cry and cry and nothing Ginny could say, nothing she could do made it any better. Her Dad did his best, but he seemed to be walking about in a daze. Ron was as pale and shocked as she was.

If it hadn't been for Harry and Hermione none of them would have remembered to eat or sleep. It was Harry who convinced her to have a sandwich and to go to bed that night, and it was Hermione…it was Hermione who comforted her when she woke up in the middle of the night, sobs forcing themselves up from her gut.

That was the only time she cried, until the day of the funeral. Ginny still felt as though she was in a dream, but she sat by her Dad and held his hand and listened to the speeches. They didn't touch her…they seemed to have nothing to do with the Fred and George she had known, who'd pulled her hair and teased her about Harry and turned her into a canary and…

Ron sat beside her, and halfway through the funeral he grabbed her left hand and didn't let go. He was weeping, and Ginny wished she could do the same, but she felt hard, as though someone had tied a knot in her heart. She could feel Harry's eyes on her, she knew he wanted to hold her, to help her and yet…

Afterwards, when the guests were standing about in small clumps, talking about Fred and George – in the past tense – Ginny wandered. Bill was helping her Mum and Charlie her Dad, so she had nothing to do. Hermione had her arms wrapped around Ron, and Harry was talking to him in a low voice, his hand on Ron's back.

She had intended to talk to Percy, and yet…the moment she saw him, his spectacles glinting, his dress robes perfectly pressed and his hair slicked back, all she could think of was what the twins would have said – what they would have thrown at him.

But despite his usual spit and polish, Percy's face was a mask of grief. He had visited the Burrow, but Ginny had been…she hadn't spoken to him. When their eyes met though, he opened his arms, and Ginny let him hug her.

He smelt of soap and parchment and ink, and Ginny buried her head in his shoulder. There was a lump, large and hard as a stone, in her throat, and she had had to screw her face up against a terrible cry of misery.

Percy held her tight and stroked her hair and she heard him gasp, "Oh Ginny!"

And then she couldn't help herself. She cried and cried, and it felt as though she was breathing for the first time since she'd seen the Dark Mark. It wasn't like weeping, it wasn't some indulgence of pain, it was instinct, it was unstoppable…

Percy held onto her for what must been…Ginny had no idea how long it was, but finally he left her to talk to their parents. She wiped her eyes as Neville and Luna joined her – they didn't expect her to talk to them.

Neville gave her a glass of water and let her lean her head on his shoulder as Luna talked about the next edition of the Quibbler. She actually made Ginny laugh.

It was a relief not to have to talk, and Ginny found herself growing tired, from sorrow and lack of sleep. In a way, she was glad when Hermione told her that they were going home, though it was much harder than usual to say goodbye to Neville and Luna.

Ginny sat with her Mum – let her brush her hair, and feed her, and do all the things her Mum loved to do – but it was hard. Eventually her Dad convinced her Mum to get some sleep and Ginny joined the others in the sitting room.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting together – Ron's eyes were red with weeping. Ginny wavered for a moment, and then she threw her arms around him. There had been times when they'd hadn't gotten on, when they'd fought and wounded each other, but…she hated to see Ron looking so much like a little boy.

None of them wanted to go to bed, but Fleur, who had risen to the occasion with her usual proud spirit, ordered them upstairs at half eleven, and informed them that no one was to get up before ten o'clock the next morning.

Harry held her hand as they climbed the stairs and, without thinking about it, Ginny brought him into her room. It was only when he closed the door that she realised Hermione wasn't with them – presumably she was with Ron.

Ginny stared at him – it had been so long since they were alone in a room together and yet… Harry's eyes were kind. "Are you all right?"

Ginny shrugged. "I don't know." She sniffed and tried to smile at him. "I suppose I'm as well as…as I can be."

"Ginny," Harry said, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

She shook her head. "It wasn't your fault, Harry. I just wish I'd got there sooner."

He came closer to her, grasping her upper arms. "I'm not," he said. "You nearly died as it was, Ginny, and…I don't know what I'd have done if…" He caught himself. Now was not the time. "They wouldn't have wanted it either."

Ginny stared up at him, at his beautiful eyes that were full of love, even if he wouldn't say it, and her mouth seemed to dry up and she blushed. The heat of his hands seemed to soak right through to her skin.

Harry kissed her forehead, his lips lingering, and impulsively, she hugged him. Taking a deep breath she whispered in his ear, trembling and terrified that he might say no – that he might say yes…

"Could you…could you stay with me? Not to…do anything, but, could you just…"

"Yes."

Harry's voice was firm, but Ginny could feel that he was trembling. Even if they didn't kiss that night…they would still in the same bed, skin-to-skin, hip-to-hip.

She pulled away from him – at that moment it was just too hard to meet his eyes – and said, "Could you…close your eyes for just a second? I want to…I want to get changed."

Harry nodded, but he licked his lips unconsciously, and the movement made her shiver. Still, he did as he was told, and turned around for good measure, and Ginny yanked a nightdress over her head as quickly as possible.

It was a long, pale thing, not in the least bit attractive, and yet when Harry turned around she felt almost naked. There was no way her mother would ever approve of this.

Oddly, that thought made her want to laugh, which steadied her nerves somewhat – which was a good thing, as the sound of Harry taking his jeans off would have terrified her otherwise.

They were weirdly silent as they got into bed, but once they were actually lying down it was easier. Harry smiled at her, and suddenly…it was all that different from all the times Hermione or Louise had stayed over, except…well, she'd never wanted to… with one of them.

Harry grinned and said, "Feeling well?"

Ginny giggled, and tucked her head under his chin. All day long she'd been rigid, as though someone had welded steel to her spine, but for now she could just sink into him.

His hand slid along her hair, and Ginny yawned – if she'd been a cat she would have purred. She kissed Harry's neck and smiled at him. "Thank you," she said.

Tomorrow they would be separate, they wouldn't hold each other or kiss but…in a way, this one night was enough.

She slept peacefully.