Chapter Twenty
"So, Ginny." Laurel smiled as the young woman frowned.
"Damn."
"You really thought I'd forgot that you didn't have the chance to speak last week?" Laurel asked. Ginny seemed to squirm.
"Nope. But I was hoping. So, what's your question?"
"What is it like being the only daughter in a line of boys?" Ginny rolled her eyes.
"Annoying in a lot of ways. It was normal for me to act like a boy. Expected. So in my first year when I opened the Chamber and wrote things in chicken blood on the walls, it became the elephant in the room. Ron was the only one to check in on me when I had bad dreams, or freaked out about something. Everyone else just expected me to forget about it or something. All that changed when Fred died."
"What changed?" Laurel prompted. Ginny heaved a sigh.
"We were suddenly okay to be emotional about it without any repercussions, without being seen as weak. Without being told to suck it up. Without being told that we needed to be strong. Whenever I had dreams about my hands being soaked in blood, dripping with it, or-or cutting off a chicken's head it was always 'oh, dear, well take some Dreamless Sleep and it'll all look better in the morning' and since them I'd learned, you know? I'd learned not to be emotional. Or at least not to let it show. But all that went out the floo when Fred died. Suddenly I was cold-hearted for not crying or talking about how sad I was." Ginny drifted into silence, and Harry was suddenly twisted to face her, knees knocking against hers.
"Gin, love, we both survived the Chamber. Why didn't you come and talk to me?" Harry asked of his wife, who shrugged.
"You were still very much The Boy Who Lived at that point, and I was still very much in the hero worship stage." Ginny gave a small laugh, and her husband reached over to rub her knee.
"I get that. You don't talk about your trauma to your idols."
"Exactly. Prat." Ginny murmured when Harry smirked at her.
"Did anyone in the family confront you about your reaction to Fred's death?" Laurel brought her attention back. Ginny shook her head.
"No. They just gave me looks and muttered under their breath when they thought I couldn't hear about how cold and awful I was being. That hurt, because I was grieving like everybody else. I felt like something was gone, a hole in my gut that never got filled up. He was taken away from us and I just wanted to scream and cry and rage at the world that they took him away. That they took his laughter and love and mischief away. My right to be emotional about my own brother's death, or about anything at all, was taken away from me the moment they dismissed the fact I was possessed by a bit of Voldemort's soul!" Lily started to fuss at her mother's agitation. Ginny passed her to Harry and stood, her breathing as shaky as the legs that supported her as she stumbled out of the room. Ron looked at Harry.
"Want me to go?" Harry shook his head.
"I'll go. Give her a couple minutes to herself, first."
"Good idea. Don't want to subject yourself to her Bat Bogey Hex."
"Definitely not."
"Did any of you know how Ginny felt?" Laurel asked the room at large. Hermione was already shaking her head.
"No. None. I knew she was taking Fred's death hard. We all were… but I had no idea she was feeling that much pressure to be… unemotional. I wish I'd known." Hermione arms banded over her middle. Ron sighed.
"I knew about how mum and dad had treated her bad dreams. I didn't know it had started to affect how Ginny dealt with grief, too."
"I noticed the looks she got from family members at the funeral. I thought it was weird, but I didn't want to cause a scene by asking why they were looking at her like that. Ron, mate, maybe we should both go see how she's doing." Harry passed Lily to Hermione, who took her with a smile immediately gracing her features. Ron and Harry trooped out of the room and went upstairs to the roof. The immediately had to duck, for she threw raw, uncontrolled magic their way.
"Hey Gin! Watch it! It's just me and Ron!" Harry raised his voice to reach across the other end of the roof. Ginny spun toward them again, but seemed to realise that neither man was a threat. All the fight sapped from her. She plopped down on the bench she was standing beside and put her head in her hands.
"Sorry. I just… I got so angry. The only place where I felt I was every truly treated like an equal, and not the first Weasley girl born in a line of boys, was when I played Quidditch. I was valued for my skill. Any other time… I was used to holding everything in." Harry and Ron sat on either side of her.
"Ginny, I had no idea this was running through your head. I would have told you that crying and raging at the world was okay. Not to care what people thought. Keeping those sorts of emotions inside… you explode, eventually." Ron took his sister's hand as he spoke.
"It's a lot of expectations to live up to, especially when you're still trying to figure out where you fit in the world. I'm sorry too." Harry kissed her cheek. Ginny gave them both a small smile.
"It's going to take some getting used to. I didn't even know that I'd felt that way. About them taking away my right to grieve." Ginny murmured.
"Let's make a trip to see Fred, love. I think you need it." Harry said. Ginny nodded.
"Yeah. I think I do too. Let's go back inside. We've been up here long enough." They went back downstairs and found it as they'd left it. Ginny took Lily from Hermione, pressing a kiss to the woman's cheek in thanks before she sat back down. Laurel looked up from her notes, apparently having been content to let silence fill the room while they'd been gone. Laurel cleared her throat, suddenly nervous.
"I have a proposition. Instead of meeting next week, I have gotten permission from your employers – Ronald, you'll have to speak to George, though – to give you next week off. I want you to use this week to spend time with each other, as a group or separately, outside of these sessions. I don't do this with the intention of you forming friendships. That's not what this is about. But what I want you to take away from this exercise is that you have common ground with others in the group, and maybe not in the ways you initially thought. As you all have such busy schedules that would be difficult to plan around, I ensured you got next week off to do this exercise. I want you to write in your journals about what you do, and with who." Silence met her words for a moment. Draco sighed heavily.
"I'm probably going to regret this, but we've a Château in France on the outskirts of a small muggle town. There is more than enough room for you and your children. You can come and spend a few days."
"You just don't want to end up in The Prophet with the Golden Trio and Ginny Potter." Ginny said sardonically. Ron snorted.
"That is a convenient benefit to having what amounts to a free vacation in a very small, muggle town. We'll be unknown. I really don't want to give myself more publicity here, good or bad. So what d'you say? Fancy going to France?" Ron leaned over to speak with Ginny before she could respond to Malfoy's question.
"It's not just that, Ginny. Bet he doesn't want the papers wondering even more where his wife is. Sure she's still in France, Malfoy?" Draco pinned Ron with a steely glare.
"I don't appreciate your insinuation, Weasley." Draco had never sounded more like his father than in that moment. He lifted his son off his lap and onto the couch beside him. Scorpius looked between his father and the red haired man, noting the tension held between them.
"Oh, don't worry, I'm sure she's found some other scion of the Sacred Twenty Eight, don't worry your little ferret head over traditional ideals." Before Ron had even finished, Draco was up, wand levelled at Ron's face, Ron following seconds later. Hermione, sensing a fight of some kind was imminent, had a shield charm up between them that pushed both men back a few inches.
"Ron, darling, sit down. You should know better than to believe everything you read in the prophet, love. I really ought to have a chat with Rita Skeeter about the drivel she's been writing lately. Draco, I speak on behalf of everyone when I say we'd be delighted to accept your invitation. Ronald, you'll talk to George, of course." Hermione's tone brooked no room for argument.
"Well, I guess that's that then." Harry murmured.
"I will owl you all with the address. I'll have the Elves prepared to receive you on Monday." Draco collected his son and left the room, apparently deeming the session over.
A/N: Your second dose of A Difficult Endeavour is up! Don't forget, there are two chapters of my other story, Aftermath, posted as well so have a look at that too!