You cannot find peace by avoiding life.

Virginia Woolf

Ginny sighed at her reflection. It wasn't much, she decided looking at herself critically, but then and again, it wasn't like she was dressing to impress. After all, the only reason that she was going was because of the alcohol. And to get out of the bloody apartment. Slowly, she walked out of the bathroom and stared momentarily at the pile of bawdy yellow fabric that was still sitting on the floor. She should burn that disgusting dress, seeing as all it did was turn her into a dreadful version of an exotic bird.

The dress had belonged to one of her friends, and Ginny, not being one to turn away an unwanted article of clothing, had picked it up, hoping that she would one day find a use for it. It turned out though, that the only place where it really belonged was in an incinerator. Of course, if she was feeling ambitious enough, which she wasn't, then she supposed that she could have transfigured it into something better, but transfiguration had never been one of her strong subjects. Not to mention, there was the very obvious problem that she had yet to speak a spell.

With a scowl, she padded lightly into the kitchen and forced her thoughts away from the topic of magic. Now all she had to do was wait for Wanda. A part of her hoped that the brunette would show up early, if only for some fashion advice, but another part of her, a part of her that Ginny didn't really want to acknowledge, simply wanted Wanda to arrive for the purpose of talking to her.

Ever since Ginny had involved herself in this entire business of superheroes and billionaires, she had forced herself to stay distant, telling herself that she didn't need friends. That friends were a hindrance, a danger, a liability, a responsibility. For a while, that had certainly worked, but now? She snorted to herself. Well, it was safe to say that the mantra through which had managed to distance herself for so long was no longer very effective. In fact, the longer that she worked for the Avengers, the more she could feel herself, her ideals and concepts, falling apart at the seams. Ginny may not be a big part of their lives. In all honesty, she did everything that she could to ensure that she never really did become a big part of their lives, but there was something about them. The way that they would work, laugh, joke, and grieve together… There was a camaraderie that surrounded them, one that reminded Ginny fondly of the times when she too had had all of that and it made her want that again. It made her want to be a part of it.

A soft knocking at the door broke Ginny out of her thoughts and she glanced at her watch in slight surprise. If that was Wanda, then she was over twenty minutes early. Not that Ginny really minded though and so she walked over to the door and pulled it open, a small smile sitting on her face as the other girl beamed at her.

Wanda looked stunning. Her hair had been left down and cascaded gently around her shoulders, the ends curling softly. Her dark blue satin dress hung flatteringly at the tops of her knees and the simple black jacket that she was wearing finished off the look to make her appear both classy and carefree. The only thing that wasn't right, though, was the incredulous expression that was sitting on her face.

"Why are you not dressed yet?" she said finally and she stepped into the room, eyeing the limp yellow dress on the floor distastefully before looking back at Ginny. "You do know that we have to leave in less than half an hour, yes?"

"Yes," Ginny grumbled, closing the door behind Wanda. "It's just that I, uh, don't really have anything to wear except this ancient dress," she pointed to the splotchy yellow heap, "which looks absolutely hideous by the way, so I didn't bother putting anything else on except for a pair of jeans and this blouse. I thought it would be okay."

Wanda, for a couple of seconds, didn't say anything and Ginny watched her warily as the older girl pursed her lips together, folded her arms, and raked her gaze up and down Ginny's form.

"You and I are around the same size, I think," she mused, her eyes still assessing Ginny carefully, before her head snapped up, a triumphant, gleeful expression filling her face. "I will go and get some of my dresses and you can try them on."

Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but Wanda simply held up a hand to stop her. "And you will wear whatever it is I give you, because," she smirked mischievously, "I am not letting you go to the party dressed like that. This is a fancy event! You should look nice!"

Ginny rolled her eyes at Wanda's insistence, but couldn't help the slight smile that pulled at the edges of her mouth.

"And get out your make-up and hair things as well," she ordered. "Your hair looks dreadful."

This time, Ginny couldn't help the snort of laughter that bubbled to her lips as she walked into the bathroom obediently to grab her few beauty products.

Pietro was bored. In fact, he couldn't recall ever being so bored at a party, especially a party that was, in all actuality, meant for him. He was bored of the music, Stark's loud laughter, Clint's snide comments, and Romanoff's rigid silence. He was bored with the expensive, thick alcohol and the petty 'rich talk' of the high society guests. He was bored of the girls that kept coming up to him, simpering and already tipsy, as they giggled and asked for a photograph or an autograph or a dance. He glanced furtively at Steve, who was sitting stoically next to him at the bar. He didn't know how the older man did it and Steve, he mused, would have had it a lot worse, especially seeing as he had had to put up with crowds of adoring fans back in the 1940's as well as in the 21st century. He vaguely wondered what was worse, before settling barely a second later on the society of today. Social media made sure of that, he thought bitterly and he remembered searching his name on Google just the other day. To his horror, although the whole thing had originally been intended as a joke, he had discovered forums, stories, and fan groups all dedicated to him and his existence. It had been fucking scary and almost disgusting, especially when you started reading some of the comments that his most 'avid' fans posted. Pietro hoped that he would never meet women like that in his whole life.

"Pietro Maximoff?"

Hell, here was another one. Another beaming blonde done up to the nines in a sky blue, sparkly dress and whose teeth that were so white that they shone like a beacon under the dim lights. If they were any brighter, he thought savagely to himself as he downed his shot, then he would have to wear sunglasses. He snickered at the thought and finally turned to face the obnoxiously and elaborately dressed girl.

"That's me," he said resignedly.

She smiled an even wider smile. "Would you like to dance?" she asked coyly, placing a suggestive hand on his arm. Pietro snorted silently to himself. This one moved fast. "It just seems like you would be good at sort of thing."

He manoeuvred himself so that her hand fell off his arm and glared at his empty glass in front of him, blatantly ignoring the puckering blonde that was still standing next to him. "I'm waiting for someone," he answered bluntly.

"But I'm sure that I can keep you company until they arrive," she whined. "And," she fluttered her long eyelashes, "I have been told by many that I am a fantastic dancer."

Pietro was getting annoyed. "I'm sure that you are."

"So, won't you?"

"Won't I what?"

"Won't you dance with me?" A displeased note had entered the girl's voice.

"No."

The girl opened her mouth, no doubt to protest again, but this time, another voice filled the void where her high girlish one should have been.

"Pietro?"

Pietro had never been so grateful to see his sister in his entire life. "Wanda!" he exclaimed, and he shot a self-satisfied smirk in the direction of the blonde who now looked absolutely furious at being interrupted. "I was wondering where you were! You were supposed to arrive fifteen minutes ago."

Wanda smiled tightly at him and Pietro remembered dimly that they still weren't really talking. Not after what had happened with her earlier that morning and he felt a stab of unfamiliar hurt as he examined Wanda's closed expression. She hadn't looked at him like that in years. "There was traffic," she said simply. "And Ginny had a bit of a disaster."

"Ginny?" Pietro looked at his sister sharply, all thoughts of his argument with Wanda flying out of his head. He stood up. "Is she okay?"

Wanda rolled her eyes and folded her arms over her body. "She's fine. In fact, she decided, with a little bit of persuading, to come tonight."

Pietro perked up at the statement. "She's here?"

Wanda sighed in exasperation. "That's what I said, yes?"

"Then," Pietro tried to hide his impatience, "where is she?"

"Talking to the other guests," Wanda replied casually and Pietro's face fell slightly.

"Ginny?" the blonde, whom Pietro had totally forgotten about, asked suddenly. "I used to know a girl named Ginny."

Wanda raised an unimpressed eyebrow at Pietro before watching his sister turn her deliberately bored gaze on to the girl. For the slightest second, Pietro let himself pity the girl – being on Wanda's shit list was not exactly a place where you wanted to be. "And who are you?" she said scathingly.

"Jennifer Evamore," the girl replied superiorly, sounding overly pleased with herself and seemingly oblivious to Wanda's scorn. "Daughter of the fashion designer, John Evamore. He designed Tony's suit tonight, hence why I am here."

"Wonderful," Wanda said fake enthusiastically. "Now leave."

Jennifer's mouth dropped open, but Wanda jumped in before she could say anything more her eyes flashing dangerously.

"I don't remember inviting you to listen to the discussion that my brother and I were just having," she said coolly, "so leave. Pietro doesn't want to talk to you and neither do I."

Jennifer looked utterly outraged at Wanda's blunt manner but stomped away, her reluctance and anger clear with every step that she took. Pietro, however, couldn't be more delighted that the annoying thing had finally left.

"Finally," he grinned. "She had to be one of the worst ones so far."

Wanda simply glared at him and Pietro's grin slowly fell as he watched his sister walk to another area, an area that contained a very specific red android. Scowling, he watched as his sister shyly struck up a conversation with Vision – Wanda may be vying for her independence, but it didn't mean that he had to like it, especially when he saw a slight blush tinge her otherwise pale cheeks at something that Vision had said.

Pietro sighed to himself and reluctantly took his glare off of the android and started searching, looking for the person whom Wanda had unexpectedly brought with her. He was surprised that Ginny had come tonight. After all, she had never come to any of the other parties or gatherings at the facility. He wondered why she had chosen to come tonight of all nights. Maybe she had had a shitty day at work, something that Pietro could very much relate to. First, he had been replaced by Ginny, then she had punched him, then he had felt overwhelmingly guilty for having gone into Ginny's room at all and then training had left him even more bruised and battered than usual. But today, he had deserved every single punch that had come his way.

He raised his glass to his lips absentmindedly and that was when he saw her.

The vivacious redhead was standing somewhat awkwardly under the dim lighting, a champagne glass sitting uncomfortably in her hand. Her red hair had been twisted into a side bun that sat loosely on the side of her head and her dress… Hell, her dress. It was a stunning red colour, a colour that reminded him of an early sunrise, and it hugged her slight figure to a fault, outlining the smooth curves of her body. The sleeves were made of similarly coloured lace, stretching down to her petite wrists and hinting at the smooth skin that lay underneath the elegant weave. Simple earrings sat in her ears and an unusual necklace hung around her neck, making Pietro wonder what on earth it could mean to her. For an entire minute, Pietro felt like he couldn't breathe as he stared openly at the woman standing only metres away from him.

"I'll be back," Pietro said distractedly to Steve and he pushed himself out of his chair and started walking over to Ginny, absolutely determined that this was going to be the night that he got to her know her at least a little better. He straightened his white button up shirt and wiped his hands on his black slacks. Hell, if she simply smiled at him, he would call this night a success. He wondered what he would tell her. He would tell her that she was beautiful, the most beautiful woman in the room, maybe ask her how she was feeling, ask her whether or not she was enjoying the party… He would definitely have to apologise to her first though and he frowned at the thought. Apologising to others had never been on of his strong suits…

"Pietro Maximoff?"

Pietro nearly didn't hear the sound of his name until he was tapped lightly on the arm. Frustrated, he turned around to glare at the girl who had had the audacity to tap his arm, only to be faced with an elderly, shrewd looking man who was staring at him with hidden amusement. "Mr Maximoff," the man said formally, sticking his hand out, "my name is Felix Murray and I'm a reporter for the New York Times. Do you have any time to answer a few questions?"

Pietro sighed and ran a hand through his hair, looking longingly back towards where Ginny was still standing. Hell, was everyone on a personal mission or something to stop him from getting to her? Because from this angle, it certainly looked like it. "Yes," he replied grudgingly. "Ask me anything you want."

It took only a few minutes, much to Pietro's relief, to answer Murray's questions, but by the time that he was finished, the striking redhead had disappeared into the throng of people.

The ambiance of the place was nice, she decided as she walked slowly around the floor. Music was playing softly in the background, the lights were neither dim nor starkly bright, and the large glass windows provided a spectacular view over New York City. Absently, she walked over to one of the polished sheets of glass and stared over the city. It wasn't exactly the most beautiful place, she decided, what with there still being scaffolding and cranes lining the buildings from the Battle of New York, but then and again, it wasn't like she had anything else to compare it to. Sure, she had been into London a few times, but she had never really seen the place, let alone from above like this. So for now, it would have to be what it was.

"Miss Prewett?"

Ginny turned around in surprise, her champagne nearly spilling over the sides of the glass in her haste to face the person who had called her name.

"Captain Rogers," she said in surprise, quickly recollecting herself as she took in the unforeseen appearance of the soldier. He cleaned up well, she noted privately as she took in his casual button up shirt and jeans. "And you don't need to call me Miss Prewett anymore. I think that we've worked together long enough that you can call me by my given name."

"In that case," Steve said, a small smile on his lips, "then you can do the same for me." He chuckled suddenly. "You know, I barely recognised you when you came in with Wanda. I don't think any of us did, actually. Tony was very surprised."

Ginny surprised herself by smiling ruefully. "It is a bit different from what I usually look like though, isn't it, and trust me, I'm still wondering whether it's a bit much but," she shrugged, "fashion is Wanda's department. Certainly not mine."

"It's good, you know," Steve commented lightly, "to see that Wanda's made a friend. In all honesty, none of us were really expecting it."

"Neither was I," Ginny replied simply. "So, did you want to ask me something?"

Steve grinned sheepishly at her. "Am I that obvious?"

Ginny smiled a tiny smile. "Just a little bit."

Steve paused. "It's about what happened with Wanda and I, we," he corrected, "wanted to know if what you said was true? What you said about your brother and PTSD?"

Ginny's expression turned sour. They still didn't believe her. That hurt. "Yes."

Steve nodded slowly. "I didn't know that your brothers served."

"I guess we all did," Ginny said grimly, her eyes now trained once again on the scattered array of lights that was New York City. "Can I tell you something?" she asked abruptly, not sure where the sudden desire to talk to him had come from. Maybe it simply came from Steve's honest presence, she thought to herself with a wry smirk.

"Go for it."

She took a deep breath and trained her eyes on the soldier. "You remind me of someone that I… used to know. He was strong, powerful, a leader in every sense of the word. He was also courageous, chivalrous and," she added with a small, pained smile, "had absolutely no sense of self-preservation, but that was him. That was what made him, well, him. He too was in an army. In fact, he was one of the people that everyone answered to despite his youth." Ginny paused, once again wondering why she was telling Steve all of this. She barely knew the man, but at the same time, there was a part of Ginny that knew that he would understand the most out of all of the people in this room – no one could understand war, except maybe the twins, better than Steve. She gulped down the rest of her champagne. "The anniversary of his death is in a few days," she said finally.

"I'm sorry," Steve said softly, understanding, not sympathy, lining his voice and Ginny felt relieved at the sound of it, making her firmly believe that telling that portion of the truth to Steve had been the right thing to do. These days, all people ever did was look at her with sympathetic words on their tongue or pity in their eyes and when they did that, then all Ginny wanted to do was scream. "He sounded like a good man."

Ginny nodded slowly. "He was." She laughed nervously and fiddled with the glass in her hands. "Sorry for telling you all of that, it's just that-"

"You wanted to get it off your chest," Steve finished for her. "Don't mention it. I can relate. And if you really want to know, then you remind me of someone I used to know as well." Steve chuckled distractedly, his gaze now also finding purchase in the view outside of the window. "Her name was Peggy. Peggy Carter and she too was from England. She fought a lot, for herself and for others, in the name of doing the right thing." His voice turned surprisingly bitter. "And now she has Alzheimer's and is confined to a hospital bed."

Ginny faltered in her reply, not sure at first what to say. While she had gone through her fair share of suffering, at least she hadn't had to watch from the sidelines as they deteriorated. "Well, I won't say that I understand what that's like, because I don't, but I am sorry."

And both of them fell into a sombre silence, both caught up by the vicious flow of memories from the past. Maybe, Ginny thought, Steve's story and her own weren't really all that different and she made a mental note to talk to each of the Avengers more often. Merlin, how she had changed. She had entered this job, unenthusiastic and resentful, yet here she was, making silent promises to talk more to each of the Avengers, becoming friends with Wanda Maximoff…

"So, you too looked like you were having a nice little chat," an unfamiliar voice broke in slyly, and Ginny jumped before realising a second later that it was the redheaded assassin. "I was almost sorry to cut in." She glanced at Ginny, the barest hint of surprise touching her features. "I almost didn't recognise you there, Prewett, but I do have to say that you do clean up well."

Steve sighed irritably and tossed back the last few dregs of champagne in his glass. "What do you want, Natasha."

"To drag you out on the floor and dance," she pouted. "I would ask Clint, but he's busy. So, may I have this dance?"

Steve rolled his eyes, but nodded anyway, allowing Natasha to tug him along. "It was nice talking to you," he said to Ginny seriously. "You know, if you ever need something like that again, then I'm always free."

Ginny nodded and gave him a small smile as he walked away and decided that in the future, that she would do exactly that; she had been too lonely and pathetic for far too long.

"Ginny!"

She sighed at the now familiar accent that called her name and wondered why so many people were talking to her tonight. "Pietro," she acknowledged reluctantly, before openly smirking at his appearance. "Nice make-up," she commented, taking in the heavy layer of concealer that was sitting on his face from where she had punched him earlier. "It suits you, I have to admit. You could have chosen a more appropriate colour, though."

Pietro scowled playfully. "It was a good punch I have to admit, but is it really that obvious? I thought that I had done a good job."

"Definitely obvious." She paused, turning to face him head on and eyed him carefully. "I haven't forgiven you yet, you know, for what you did earlier. It was rude and invasive and I didn't appreciate it. I can understand why were you angry with me, but you didn't have to shove me against a wall. Got it?"

Pietro shifted uncomfortably and he ran a hand through his messy hair. "That is actually why I wanted to come over here." He raised his eyes to her own and Ginny saw the sincerity and seriousness glimmering in the deep pools of blue and she felt a hint of surprise. She hadn't yet seen Pietro Maximoff look so solemn. And was that shame? "I wanted to apologise. What I did earlier was inexcusable and I shouldn't have done it. I should have just talked to you, instead of… instead of acting like an asshole. So, I'm sorry. I also wanted to tell you that I thought about what you said. About Wanda. And I'm going to talk to her. Maybe not right now, but soon. Definitely soon. And a lot of what you said, as much as I don't want to admit it, is true. So for that, I want to thank you." He paused earnestly. "Can I be forgiven?"

Ginny raised an eyebrow, but couldn't help the tiny smile that blossomed over her lips. "You're forgiven when I say that you're forgiven, but at least you apologised. A lot of guys wouldn't have actually have had the guts to do that, so thank you." She hesitated. "So, what else do you want?"

Pietro looked startled at the rapid change in conversation. "What do you mean, 'what else do I want'?"

"Well, the only reason you ever talk to me is because you want something, so what is it?"

Pietro, for the first time since she had met him, faltered in his reply and Ginny looked at him curiously. "To talk, I guess. In particular, though," he said finally, his voice once again regaining that cocky edge, "I wanted to tell you, that you look beautiful tonight."

Ginny nearly choked. That had escalated quickly.

"What? No one has ever told you that you are beautiful before?"

Not ever so brazenly, she thought privately to herself, her eyes watering slightly from her coughing fit and her cheeks flushing the colour of both her hair and her dress. Merlin, even Harry had never outright said that to her in plain words like Pietro had just done and she didn't know whether to be impressed or disbelieved at his statement.

"I, uh, thank you?" she said finally, still extremely flustered. Merlin, where was the waiter when you needed one? She really needed another drink. Preferably, a vodka martini. A dry vodka martini.

"It is the truth. You have to be one of the most beautiful women here tonight. So are you enjoying the party?"

Ginny shrugged, wishing desperately that her cheeks would stop flushing. She still couldn't believe that he had actually said that, but then and again, his both confident and arrogant reputation wasn't exactly for nothing. "It's different to what I'm used to, but then and again, this is the first party that I've been into in a long time, so I guess that my opinion doesn't really matter all that much."

"A long time? How long?" he asked curiously.

"A party? Um, give or take four years?" It wasn't as though her sixth year at Hogwarts had been fun.

"Four years? That is a while."

Ginny snorted amusedly. Maybe talking to Pietro, when he wasn't acting like a jerk, wasn't as bad as she had originally thought. "A bit pathetic, isn't it? But from what it looks like, I didn't miss out on much."

"I would say that you haven't really missed anything. You have been living in America for how long now?"

"Nearly three years."

"And before that, you were living in England?"

"Yep."

"Have you lived anywhere else?"

"No and why are you so interested anyway?"

Pietro shrugged. "You're our secretary yet none of us know anything about you. Even Stark's scans showed nothing and his scans, so he says, are the best in the world."

"Mr Maximoff?" a professionally dressed woman interrupted the conversation and out of the corner of her eyes, Ginny saw Pietro sigh in frustration. "I hate to interrupt, but do you have a moment?"

"I, uh, yes," Pietro muttered half-heartedly and he gave Ginny an apologetic look.

"I'll see you later, Pietro," Ginny said casually, looking at amused at his disgruntled face. "I should go and mingle anyway, but it was almost nice talking to you."

Pietro simply smirked back. "I'll come and find you later." And Ginny found herself flushing again as she walked away from him and the suspected reporter. Was he always so crass? Ginny supposed that he was.

Absently, she walked through the crowd, giving her glass to one of the waiters, before heading in the direction of one of the bathrooms that was hidden off to the side as she tried to force her embarrassment away. Luckily for her, the woman's bathroom was blissfully empty and wonderfully silent. But then and again, it wasn't really one of the main bathrooms on the floor either. If it had been, then Ginny had no doubt that it was full of women powdering their noses.

"Ginny Weasley?"

Ginny froze in her tracks, her breath catching in her throat at the foreign sound of her original last name. Obviously she hadn't been as alone as she had previously thought.

"Ginny Weasley?" the voice drawled. "That is you, right?"

Without thinking, she turned around tersely, a bright grin hastily plastered on her face. "You must have gotten mixed up with someone else, honey," she said with a smile, the deliberate American accent feeling unfamiliar on her tongue. "Because I don't know anyone here with that name, and trust me, I know everyone here." It wasn't exactly a lie, but it wasn't really the whole truth either.

"No," the blonde said slowly, a flash of recognition lighting up her blue eyes and Ginny felt the unwelcome feeling of dread build up in her body. This woman, this damned witch, had recognised her. "You're Ginny Weasley, aren't you? You defeated and killed Bellatrix Lestrange in one of the most famous duels to date. Not to mention," there was a note of challenge in her voice, as the blonde dared Ginny to defy her, "your Patronus charm is said to be one of the most powerful that this world has ever seen. I mean, I'm sure that that isn't true, but you know. The press likes to exaggerate these days. But still. It makes for a thrilling story."

Ginny pursed her lips. Going to this party tonight had been a mistake. "And who the hell are you then?" she asked, promptly abandoning the American accent. If the girl already knew who she was, then there was no use using it.

The girl pouted and arrogantly swept her golden hair over her shoulder. "No need to be impolite," she bristled, her gold earrings glinting under the harsh bathroom lighting. "But for your information, seeing as you seem to be so misinformed as to who I am, I'm Jennifer Evamore, the daughter of John Evamore, the famous designer. He designs all sorts of robes and even designed the quidditch gear that one of the leading quidditch teams in America wears." She picked delicately at her perfectly manicured nails. "My Daddy was invited to the party tonight, seeing as he also designs muggle suits, one of which Tony is wearing by the way, but he couldn't come. So I'm here instead."

Ginny withheld a scowl. Great. Not only did she have to meet a witch, but she also had to meet a witch with significant social power. In other words, a person who could and would screw everything up for someone like her.

"You know, I followed that whole war in the newspapers," she continued, still picking haughtily at her nails. "It sounded horrible. It really did. But like I said before, the papers always like to exaggerate information, so I'm sure that it wasn't as bad as it sounded. I mean, there were all of these reports of who had died etcetera, etcetera, and while I'm sure that it was all very sad, it just seems so, well, fake if you get what I'm saying." She sighed, seemingly oblivious of Ginny's growing anger. "It's a shame that that boy, what was his name again? Hmm… Potter. That's right! Harry Potter. Anyway, it's a shame that he died, because he was so good-"

Less than a second later, Jennifer Evamore, in her fancy, priceless sky blue gown, was shoved brutally against the wall, Ginny's wand hovering dangerously under the blonde's chin. Fury surged through her veins, making everything appear brighter, sharper and more real than anything she had felt in the last couple of years. She hated people like this. People that pretended and assumed to know what she – what they – had gone through. People that thought that they were so well-informed, but so naïve and absurdly innocent.

"How dare you," she said softly, her hard brown eyes glaring into the now petrified ones of Jennifer, her hand clenching around the handle of her wand. She took a deep breath, forcefully pushing down the raw magic that burned relentlessly through her blood. She was going to have to be careful. "How dare you, you arrogant, self important bitch. Do you know what it was like? The war?" she hissed, stepping even closer to Jennifer. The girl began to tremble and Ginny could see the beginning of terrified tears in her eyes, but Ginny didn't relent. "Do you know what it was like to slip on floors that were slick with blood? Do you know what it was like to see the blank, dead faces of your family? Do you know what it was like to feel indescribable pain? Do you?" Ginny pressed the tip of her wand slightly harder under Jennifer's shaking chin. "Do you?"

"M-my father," she stuttered pathetically, "h-he has power. You w-w-won't get away with this."

Ginny laughed harshly, the sound grating in her ears and she felt a twinge of guilt when she saw the girl in front of her flinch. "And you call yourself a witch," she scoffed derisively, but she sharply lowered her wand to her side, not missing Jennifer's visible breath of relief. "If this gets out, if you tell anyone that I was here, you will pay, Evamore. Understand?"

Jennifer nodded hurriedly, quickly pushing herself of the wall. "Yes," she squeaked, her eyes glinting nervously. "I understand. No one will know. Not a thing. I won't tell anybody. Promise."

Ginny nodded once, somewhat satisfied that Jennifer would do as she was told, and turned around to leave the bathroom. But that was her mistake, a mistake, had it still been war times, would have cost her her life.

She almost didn't see the spell heading towards her until it was nearly too late. For a moment, time slowed down and Ginny could almost feel the adrenaline as it was released into her veins, the crackling ball of magic surging ever closer towards her. A split second later, the moment ended and the spell smashed forcefully into Ginny's instinctive shield and she found herself smirking delightedly to herself. It appeared that despite her years of denying her the only thing that the world had ever given her, she still had it. She was still just as capable as she once had been and the realisation was both satisfying and relieving. But now wasn't the time to dwell on it and another second later, Ginny had grabbed her own wand out of her purse and wordlessly disarmed the blonde witch, who was now gaping ungainly at her.

"Sorry about this," Ginny said simply, stopping any form of retaliation, before stunning the suddenly fearful Jennifer Evamore into a heap of unconsciousness and blue, glittery satin. For a brief moment, Ginny just stood in stock-still silence, staring blankly at the girl's limp form on the bathroom floor before she found herself stumbling against the wall for support, her breath coming in short gasps. Her wand clattered noisily to the bathroom floor and she reached for its handle unsteadily. The second her fingers found security in the handle, she grasped like it was a lifeline, like it was the only reason that she was still grounded. She waved it shakily at the door, effectively locking it to any unwanted visitors and sank to the cold tiles. Absently, she realised that tears were dripping down her cheeks and she wiped at them, vainly hoping that they hadn't ruined her make-up.

She placed her head on her knees. God, she should have never come tonight. She should have never allowed Wanda to persuade her to come. She should have stayed back in her apartment, doing the work that never seemed to end.

Ginny didn't know how long she sat like that, staring listlessly at nothing, before she forced herself to get up and firmly told herself to pull herself together. She got to her feet slowly and stepped unevenly over to Jennifer's unconscious form, kneeling down next to her. Her fingers grasped the handle of her wand even tighter as she hesitantly placed her wand at Jennifer's temple, steeling herself for what she had to do next.

Memory charms had always been fickle, difficult things and she would need absolute concentration to make sure that she didn't stuff this up. Because even though Evamore was a bitch, she didn't deserve to have all of her memories, her entire life, taken from her with a single word. With a deep breath, Ginny muttered a slightly more complex version of the infamous spell and delicately erased Jennifer's memories of Ginny. It was odd, being in someone else's mind and Ginny decidedly didn't like it. Not one bit. There were webs of emotions and memories all tangled together in a scary mess that she knew would implode unless she performed the spell properly. Gingerly, she sifted through each of the memories, only vanishing the ones of herself and what felt like an hour later, she had completely removed any trace of herself from the young woman's mind. Whether or not it was successful, however, was another matter entirely and Ginny wouldn't know if she had done the spell correctly until she had woken up.

A part of her was tempted to just simply awaken her by magic, but if she did so, then she would run the risk of being discovered again. Besides, she had only erased the memories of herself for tonight, not for every other time. If she were smart, she would have left already, but she didn't want to leave, because a part of her wanted to make sure that Jennifer Evamore was still all right.

She sighed irritably and gave in, pointing her wand at the girl and whispering the spell. A mere second later, Jennifer's eyes opened and blinked slowly.

"You look familiar," she said suddenly. "Do I know you? And why the fuck am I on the bathroom floor? I mean, I know that I didn't eat anything earlier because of the party and I wanted to look good in my dress, but-"

Ginny stopped listening.

She hadn't realised how heavy the air inside the bathroom was until she stepped outside it, suddenly a gasping, sweaty, and dizzy mess. She breathed in deeply through her nose and prayed that her racing heart would calm down and she felt her back slam against one of the walls. Was this it? Was this what happened now when she used magic? Had her body gotten so unused to it that she made herself sick when she did it? Or was it something else. Something else with the mind… Ginny was very aware that after the war, she had suffered from the disease that muggles liked to call PTSD. She had never gotten treatment for it, instead deciding to look for help by herself online and in books and a part of her still wondered as to whether or not she had really beaten it. She looked at her shivering hands. They always shook like that after a nightmare, a panic attack… But she hadn't had one of those in years! Could her wand and the magic that she had just performed really have caused all of this? Ginny was pretty sure that it had the capacity to do so.

"Ginny! I was looking fo- What's wrong?"

"I, uh," Ginny gulped, and pushed herself away from the comfort and steadiness of the wall, trying to appear more collected than she really was. "I think I'm getting ill. I need to leave. Now, if that's possible."

Wanda nodded, concern on her face. "I'll take you downstairs and organise a car. Do you want me to come back to the facility with you?"

Ginny smiled weakly and waved an indifferent hand. "No, no, it's fine. Keep enjoying the party! I know that you often don't get to leave the facility except for business, so enjoy it while you can."

Wanda looked at her doubtfully, hovering uncertainly by her side. "Only if you're sure…"

"I am," Ginny said firmly.

"You are not leaving because of Pietro, are you?" Wanda asked, still looking at Ginny doubtfully. "Because Pietro doesn't say that a woman is beautiful for no reason. He meant it."

Ginny grimaced slightly. Merlin, her head was killing her. "And how'd you find out about that so fast?"

Wanda smiled and tapped her head. "I do not make it my purpose in life to know the secrets of others, but Pietro?" She shook her head affectionately as they walked around a corner to the lifts. "We are in tune with one another and so I often hear his thoughts. They are so loud!"

"Well, he is a loud person."

"I am not," the man in question defended loudly, zipping around the corner and stopping right in front of them with a disarming smile. "Well, maybe I am." He gave them both a questioning look, his eyes lingering a little longer on Ginny's pale form. "Where are you going?" he complained a second later. "It is still so early."

"I'm leaving," Ginny said bluntly. "I'm ill, so I'm heading back."

"Alone?"

Ginny sighed and closed her eyes in exasperation. "Yes."

"Then I will go with you."

"Not necessary. Besides, whatever it is that I've been unlucky enough to catch could infect you as well."
Pietro smirked at her. "Did you not read my file? I have an increased metabolism and increased immunity!"

"You've made your point," Ginny grumbled. "But this is your party, is it not? I don't think it would be very polite of you if you were to just pack up and leave."

Pietro shifted uncomfortably. "Well, yes," he conceded, "but I am bored. The only people that talk to me are Clint, reporters, and annoying women."

Ginny rolled her eyes exasperatedly before quickly realising that that was a bad idea. Her vision blackened around the edges and she found herself leaning heavily against a wall for what had to be the third time that evening. "Oh bloody hell," she murmured to herself as she waited for her vision to come back into focus, but to her annoyance, it stayed blurry and fuzzy.

Her hands were still shaking.

"Here, I'll take you back to facility."

Ginny wanted to protest, but she found her voice being lost in the more vehement refusals of both Pietro and Wanda.

"Here. Let me take this." A gentle hand removed her purse from her shoulder and she opened her mouth to object – her wand was in there. "I'll carry it for you. I won't lose it, I promise." And she felt a warm hand encircle her upper arm and another loop firmly and securely around her waist, pushing her into the lift. "Also, if you're going to pass out, then at least tell me beforehand," he whispered in her ear, "so that I can catch you before you hit the ground."

"I don't need catching," she found herself slurring back. "Just let me fall."

Hello!

Thanks for all of the new follows and favourites and reviews this week! They all make brighten up my day! Also, special thanks to the guest reviewers for your reviews! They're very appreciated!

Anyway, I hope that you all have a wonderful week and I shall post again next Sunday :)

HauntedCinders