Remember/Forget
George gapped at Ginny, nodding. She licked her lips and plunged ahead.
"The two of you always went in on my Christmas gift together, right?" She waited, George nodded again. "And when I was eight and wanted that porcelain doll Mum and Dad couldn't afford, you and Fred did magic over the Christmas break to make one of my old dolls look like it."
George's shock was slowly becoming a large smile. "Mum tried telling us off for using magic outside school—"
"But then she saw me playing with the doll and laid off." Ginny laughed giddily, dropping into the seat beside George. "I remember," she said.
"Just that Christmas? And the lake?" George asked, obviously trying to keep his excitement in check.
Ginny shook her head. "Lots more! I just… you and Fred came to mind and it was one right after another… all night... "
"Didn't you sleep at all?"
"Not a bit!" Ginny laughed happily some more. "I have to get to work." She jumped back up.
"No way! Call in, we have to go let Mum know!" George said.
"I already told Jimmy I'd be in until noon," Ginny argued. "Besides, I sent Mum an owl I wasn't coming home this weekend."
"Consider it a change of plans," George said. He followed Ginny into the kitchen, pouring her a glass of juice. "This is huge! We'll go home right when you get back. Pack a bag, because I doubt Mum will take no for an answer when it comes to staying the night. I'll go, too."
"Alright," Ginny said, rushing around the flat, getting ready to go, still as happy as when the memories began rolling in. "Alright, but I have to get going."
"Don't bring back anymore animals," George said, as he did every time he caught her on her way to work these days.
Ginny could barely concentrate, ending in her changing the bedding of the smaller rat cage twice and almost over feeding some of the owls. Jimmy kept giving her looks, but he seemed happy with not having to worry about handling the animals, so he didn't comment. She hurried through the tasks, then checked everything off with Jimmy before rushing back to George's. Harry and George were both sitting, waiting for her.
Ginny stopped. She wondered for a moment if it would upset Harry that these memories—so many, and most of them pleasant—had nothing to do with him. The concern for his feelings on the matter were put to rest as he stood, stepped over to her, and picked her up, swinging her around in the entryway. Ginny squealed and laughed, her arms around his neck.
"It's coming back," he said happily as he placed her down. He tucked Ginny's hair behind her ears, looking into her eyes. She'd never seen him smile so widely. Ginny supposed she should have apprehension at his hope of what some memories might mean, but even Ginny couldn't help but take the night before as a good omen.
"It's coming back," she agreed, going up on her toes to kiss him.
"Come on, you two," George said. "I told Mum noon and she's going to lecture me if we keep her waiting. It's already… seventeen past."
Ginny pulled away from Harry, running to her room to hastily throw together an overnight bag. The three of them took the floo into the Burrow where Molly was already in a state. "Where have you been! I have been waiting!" She threw herself around Ginny in a bone crushing hug. Molly pulled back to pat Ginny's cheeks as Ginny explained the night before and how all the memories of the twins came back so suddenly.
"Molly, dear, let Ginny breathe a little," Arthur said, pulling her back, though his smile was just as broad.
"Everyone is coming!" Molly exclaimed. "They'll all be here for dinner! We are celebrating!"
Sure enough, throughout the afternoon the rest of the Weasleys trickled in. Ron and Hermione were there by two, then Bill and Victoire came (Fleur was fighting pregnancy sickness and fatigue, so Bill made apologies for her absence), followed by Percy, then Angelina, and even Charlie arrived by portkey as Molly finished cooking, leaving it to heat on the stove. All the while Ginny threw out one story after another, everyone else including their own recollections, parts in the story, or memories that were similar.
"These all have to do with the twins, though," Ron complained at one point. Hermione elbowed him for his tone.
"Sorry," Ginny apologized with a shrug. "It's just… what I remember."
"What can I say," George interjected proudly. "I always did tell you I was her favorite."
There was a mixture of laughter and booing. Victoire giggled into her hands like whatever came out of George's mouth was the funniest joke she'd ever heard.
"Do you remember getting free ice cream in the muggle village?" Ginny asked.
"Oh Merlin! I forgot about when we used to do that!" George said.
"There was this really sweet lady at the candy shop," Ginny explained to the rest of the room.
"I remember her," Bill said. "Catherine, or … something like that right?"
"Right," Ginny confirmed. "Well, when I was about five, Fred and George realized she had this soft spot for girls. So they'd offer to watch me, then make me rub dirt on my face and teach me things to say to her."
"What kind of things?" Angelina asked, raising an eyebrow to George.
"I think the first one was something like… I've always wondered what ice cream tasted like," Ginny said, mimicking her younger self in a dramatic tone.
"Oh Merlin," Charlie groaned. "That worked?"
"Sure did," George said.
"We'd always get free ice cream going in there," Ginny added.
"George Weasley," Molly huffed incredulously, looking at him, though everyone else was laughing.
"I don't remember getting free ice cream," Ron said.
"You probably weren't invited," Charlie countered.
George was red in the face from laughing. "Ginny! You weren't… supposed… to tell… Mum," George said between laughs.
Molly was torn between a large smile and an indignant motherly scowl, which caused George to laugh even harder.
"Wait, wait," Ginny said, looking around as the room quieted slowly. "Where's Fred anyway? Isn't he going to come too?"
The lingering laughter around the room ended abruptly as eyes turned towards her.
"I mean… Charlie came," Ginny said, feeling uncomfortable with the looks. "Fred doesn't live that far away does he? Or… or is he just busy?"
The whole mood turned cold and still. Ginny looked around, noticing that they were all exchanging glances with one another, but no one met her gaze now.
"Where's Fred?" Ginny asked again, confused, her heart picking up speed, her breath shortening.
Molly was the first to look at Ginny, though her eyes were filled with tears and she didn't say anything.
"Fred died, Ginny," Bill finally said gently. "Back in the war. Years ago."
Ginny turned toward him, slowly shaking her head. "No," she said. "No, I… I would… I would have remembered… wouldn't I?"
Ginny looked to Harry, but his whole face was strained and worried.
Her head pounded, but not the same way as when memories came. Ginny pushed herself up from the couch and walked briskly toward the door. She needed air. She needed space.
"Ginny, please, don't!" Molly shouted.
Ginny left out the front door, letting it slam behind her as she ran across the yard, pushing herself faster as her chest constricted. She saw Fred in her mind, joking… sneaking her an extra cookie… kneeling in front of her, assuring her everyone would be fine at the World Cup when she was thirteen. She could almost feel his arms around her when they came to see her in the hospital wing at the end of her first year, and a hundred other times with his impossibly lively face smiling at her.
Fred couldn't be dead.
Ginny tried to outrun the thought.
Harry buried his face in his hands. How hadn't they thought of that? How could they miss something so fundamental? Molly was crying now, Arthur trying to calm her. George, too, had cracked and Angelina put her arms around him as he leaned forward his eyes pressed into the heels of his hands trying to stop. Everyone else seemed dumbstruck.
"There's nothing to get this worked up over now," Arthur said to Molly quietly. "We need to let Ginny be the one to grieve." He looked over to George, but didn't encourage him to stop. No one would have dared expected that of the remaining twin.
"Someone needs to go find her," Molly said.
No one moved. Harry had a feeling none of them wanted to be the one to convince her of the truth. Or tell her how it happened. How did you even being to explain something like that?
"I'll go," Ron said reluctantly.
"No, let me," Harry interrupted. "I'll bring her back."
Ron didn't argue as Harry stood and walked through the front door. The sun was setting, but there was still enough light to see Ginny's footprints in the damp ground at the edge of the field. He knelt down, pulling out his wand. There was a basic charm that usually did no good, because it was easy for dark wizards to counter its effects. But as Ginny's intent wasn't to hide Harry figured it would actually be useful. Harry pointed his wand at one of the footprints and said quietly, "sequitur." Little gold sparks bounced from one footprint to another, following the trail Ginny left into the trees.
Harry followed them, the evening glow pushing itself through the leaves as he walked carefully, as not to disturb the chain from where he started. Ginny had weaved in and out of the trees, turning erratically. Harry watched until the he saw her ahead, standing on the edge of the small lake outside the village, right next to a large tree trunk.
Harry and Ginny had stolen away here some afternoons before she left her seventh year, and other times on her breaks and during holidays when they came to visit. Harry walked quietly. She didn't turn as he stepped up beside her.
Ginny looked out over the water, her face stern and determined. She wasn't crying like Harry expected. Instead, fire burned right behind her eyes, unblinking with her arms folded across her body. Harry looked out in the distance.
"It happened so fast," Harry said. "All of us were fighting… there was a blast and then he was just gone."
"George and Fred's room was closest to mine," Ginny replied. "So when I had nightmares when I was young, they were the ones who'd come. Not my parents. They'd calm me down by doing shadow puppet stories on the wall in my room."
They were both quiet for a moment. "Maybe George waking you from that nightmare was what brought on the memories," Harry suggested. "Maybe that's why you remembered them."
Ginny turned towards Harry, throwing herself around his neck as she kissed him fiercely. Harry wrapped his arms around her as Ginny turned him, pushing him back against the trunk, moving into him. He lost all reason of why they were out here, what his mission was supposed to be as she moved her lips, guiding his hands with her own over her curves and beneath the fabric of her shirt. Harry's fingers curled into her bare skin as he found more of it along her jaw and neck with his lips, suckling her pale, freckled skin as he did so.
"I'm all yours," she whispered into Harry's ear, her breath hot on his skin. She moved her own hands to find the bottom edge of his shirt, her fingers grazing his torso.
"Stop," Harry said with some effort. His own hands stopped moving, but Ginny only touched him with more urgency. He removed his hands from her waist, grabbing her wrists. "Stop, Ginny."
She looked up, reality was washing over her. "Why?" she asked.
"Not here," he said. "Not like this."
"Come on, Harry," she whispered, leaning in again, her lips against his neck. "I know you want to."
He let go of one hand, to hold onto her chin, moving her back so she was looking at him. "If you want this, then we will. We'll go away next weekend. A nice inn in the country or whatever you want, but not now."
"Why not?" Ginny demanded, tears and anger rising to the surface.
"Because," Harry swallowed. "Because I don't ever want to be something you regret, and if I don't make you see sense that's exactly what I'll be."
"Then what use are you?" she cried. "You come out here to what? Make me go back and hear how it happened?" Tears finally came, streaming down her face. Harry held her arms as she pushed against his chest in frustration. "I finally remember them… I finally get something back and it is taken away!" Ginny shouted the last part before her body melted into Harry, her energy gone.
Harry wrapped her up in his arms and she collapsed into shaking sobs. "Make me forget," Ginny begged. "If not with distraction, then find another bludger, please. Please, just make me forget."
Harry held tight, rocking Ginny in his arms. He had no words left, nothing to make this better. It seemed that these memories came with a price and he didn't blame Ginny for not wanting to pay it. The sky darkened, but they didn't move. As Ginny's cries subsided, Harry whispered promises and reassurances into her ear.
It would be alright.
She was loved.
They would get through this.
They would get through everything.
Night took over by the time they headed back to The Burrow, Harry's arm around Ginny's shoulder, hers around his waist. When they got into the living room, it seemed that no one had moved, except perhaps Victoire, who was sitting on Arthur's lap, using his fingers to show off her counting skills.
"No one's eaten yet?" Ginny asked. Everyone looked nervous, but she stood there, looking at them, trying to smile. "Come on, let's eat."
This broke whatever tension held everyone still and they all stood, heading into the kitchen where Molly happily hustled around, doling out assignments. George sat on Ginny's other side, his eyes still red. "It's been fun today," he said to her. "I'm glad you remembered about us."
Ginny leaned over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Me too," she said.
As dinner continued, the sharing of stories started up again, though there wasn't the unadulterated excitement from before.
Early the next morning, Harry woke in the room he was sharing with Charlie and Percy. He got dressed, then went into Ginny's room. He sat on the edge of her bed and leaned over, kissing her cheek and pushing back her vivid red hair. "Ginny," he whispered.
She took in a deep breath and turned onto her back, her eyes opening slowly, squinting at the sun spilling in through the window by her bed. "Hmmm?"
Harry placed a hand along her jaw, his thumb tracing her cheek. "I wanted to take you somewhere," he said. "Come on."
Ginny pushed herself up in her bed, turning her face to kiss the inside of Harry's wrist. He smiled and stood, leaving the room. He waited on the landing for Ginny to get dressed. She was pulling on her shoes as she stepped out the door. "Where are we going?"
"To see Fred," Harry said, taking her hand and leading the way.
They walked in the opposite direction Ginny ran the night before. Neither talked as they made their way into the small, mostly unkempt cemetery. Many of the stones were tilted and worn, the names nearly impossible to read anymore. They made it into a newer section until they stood in front of the headstone that read Fred Weasley. His plot was neater than most, though a bed of little blue flowers grew in a mess around the base of the stone.
Harry moved to stand behind Ginny, snaking his arms around her waist as she cried again, silently. "Fred was such a great brother," Ginny said once the tears slowed. "I feel so guilty."
"Why?" Harry asked.
"I forgot about him," she said.
"You didn't forget," Harry replied. "It's like you said last night. It was taken from you."
"It's not fair."
Harry pulled her into him, pressing a kiss into her neck and resting his chin on her shoulder. He couldn't argue the point. It wasn't fair. So much of their lives weren't fair. "I think George had a harder time when you lost your memories than most of us," Harry said. "After Fred was gone, he really leaned on you. He wrote to you a lot your last year at Hogwarts. When you agreed to work for him after graduating, he wouldn't shut up about it any time he saw any of us. He talked about getting your room ready and the places he was going to show you around."
"Really?" Ginny asked quietly.
"Yeah. You really made life more bearable for him. I think he was desperate to do the same a few months ago when we realized what happened."
They were silent for several minutes. "Who else died?" Ginny asked.
Harry thought about this for a moment, then started on a list. Remus and Tonks. Ginny met little Teddy at the last family dinner with Andromeda, so at least there was a reference point for her. He told her how much she liked Tonks and the mealtime requests for her to entertain with her shifting looks. He mentioned Colin Creevy, and how he—like Ginny—was supposed to leave the castle, but didn't. He told her about Snape and Dumbledore and Sirius and every other person he hadn't talked about in years.
Harry supposed this was normal. You may carry the dead's memory with you, but it didn't take long before the discussions of their deaths were exhausted by those who already knew. But maybe they needed to talk about this more.
"I need a list," Ginny said. "I need a list so that if I start remembering… I know. It's better to know, right?"
"Yeah," Harry replied. "I suppose it is."
They were there for close to an hour before deciding to sit on the plot. Ginny was untangling the stems of the little blue flowers and weaving them into intricate designs when Hermione and Ron came with a bouquet of daisies, then George, Molly, Charlie, and Arthur ten minutes or so after that.
"Fred would have gotten a real laugh over you adopting all those animals," George said, breaking their silent vigil at one point.
"Remember that," Ginny replied with a smirk. "Because there's another cat who might need a new home."
A month passed and although Ginny didn't have another rush of memories, they were still coming steadily and fully formed. She remembered more about Ron, the train ride her first year, when her and Hermione had their first interaction without the others, and other family events from her childhood.
Ginny could tell how happy Harry was when she asked about their first kiss, recounting what she remembered, uncertain if that had really happened in front of the entire common room. He asked her to repeat it twice more as they spent the evening at his flat. In between each telling, he peppered her with kisses and smiled so widely she told him he looked like someone had done a jinx that split his face in two.
Late that night, as she stood in his arms for their last moments before she needed to go home, Harry licked his lips and looked at her nervously. "I still have your ring, you know," he said.
"I know," Ginny replied.
He didn't bring it up again and, though Ginny was tempted to say she would accept it again, she still felt her life was off balance. She couldn't say yes if anything happened that would delay a wedding again.
One of the biggest question marks in her life was Nye. By mid November Ginny had written a dozen profile pieces. Seven had been published, the others were on the publishing schedule. She sat in Nye's office with the last two in hand.
"Sorry, the editor's meeting ran late," Nye said, bustling in and stepping behind her desk. She didn't sit, but shuffled through piles of papers and designs on her desk. "What can I do for you?"
"These are for you," Ginny said, handing over the papers.
"You could have sent these by owl," Nye replied, taking them and dropping them into a stack on her right. "Next time just send them by owl."
Ginny's stomach churned. "That's not all, actually," Ginny said. "The season's starting up and I wanted to see what other jobs you might have for me."
"I don't have anything for you," Nye said, stopping, and placing a hand on her hip. "I already have all the field correspondents I need and I can't take away their work to hand over to a junior writer."
"Oh," Ginny said. "I see."
"Look, this is just how it goes," Nye said brusquely. "I'll contact you if anyone has to drop an assignment. It does happen, believe it or not, and if you do well you'll get seniority in the next year or two and have the pick of the work."
"Alright," Ginny said, trying to sound optimistic about it. "Thank you."
She stood, her face burning, ready to get out of there.
"Unless you wanted to write a feature," Nye said.
Ginny stopped and turned around, hope rising again.
"You know, an insider's view," Nye added. "Something about the bludgers or your training or—"
"I don't want to write about the bludgers," Ginny snapped. "Is that what all of this has been? Just some way to get the exclusive?"
Nye scoffed. "Oh please," she said. "I wouldn't have bothered publishing you if that were my end game. I'd have just gotten one of my reporters to butter you up. No, you've been hired because you're a good writer. In time I think you'll be a great writer."
"Then why do you keep bringing the accident up," Ginny said.
"Because you have a unique perspective that none of my other writers have. Most of them played for school leagues, if that," Nye replied. She unceremoniously dropped a stack of boards and walked around her desk, leaning back on it. "You played internationally on league and national teams, you were top of the game, and your career was ended by the game. It's all part of who you are, even the accident."
Ginny stayed quiet, blinking at Nye as though this were the first time she really saw her.
"Look, do what you want," Nye said. "Mention the bludgers, don't mention the bludgers, but an interesting feature written by a favorite like you could sell a lot of an issue, so just think about it and send it to me if you come up with something, alright? Otherwise I'll be in touch if anyone can't cover a match."
Nye didn't wait for a response, but turned to a box filled with owls and picked one up, breaking the seal and opening it to read.
"Thank you," Ginny said, then walked out of the office.
Ginny went back to George's flat, her new, tabby kitten mewing from her room. "Hi, Nymph," Ginny said, scooping her up and walking over to her bed. She grabbed her journal. There were only twenty or so pages left. She flipped back to the beginning.
I've decided to trust my mum, she read in the first entry. If you can't trust your own mother, who can you trust, right? So I need to trust her like I trust Janae.
Ginny thumbed through to a few weeks later.
Harry… oh, I don't even know what to say. What if I'm not the same person? Sometimes I imagine this is all some strange mix-up, that the real Ginny is going to waltz in here and demand her ring and her family back. I feel impossibly torn. And Harry… I don't know what to think.
Ginny read her indecision on Quidditch and whether she would go back to the Harpies. She re-read her thoughts on the pensieve and giving Harry back the ring, and on their first date. She read about herself a month and a half ago and how she cared for her brothers and what she thought of each of them.
She was halfway through last week, when her memory of the Yule Ball and how Neville took her resurfaced, when Harry opened her bedroom door, knocking on the frame.
"I hope you don't mind," he said. "I knocked, but you weren't answering. And the front door was open."
"It's fine," Ginny said absentmindedly. She closed her journal, Nymph squirming in her arms as she set it aside. "Harry, I need your help with something."
Harry sat in the desk chair, looking over at her. "Sure, what is it?"
"I want to interview you," she said.
"About what?" Harry asked, looking skeptical now.
"About what you remember with me play Quidditch," Ginny said. "Before the bludgers."