Disclaimer:Everything is JK Rowling's.

Chapter 8

Unreal

31st July, 1998

Like every morning, she woke up drenched in sweat, breathing hard. She didn't know who her dream had been about this time, and she didn't care to know. The nightmares that plagued her sleep were always practically identical. Only the victim changed. A flash of green light, her strangled scream, someone hitting the ground – who? That was the question she asked herself every morning when she woke up. Who had died, how many had died, who was next? In her dreams, she had relived Fred's death. She had seen Tonks, Lupin, and Colin Creevey die – and then her dreams had changed, and she had watched George, Ron, Bill, Charlie, Percy, Harry, Hermione, and Luna fall to the ground, lifeless. And then she had started dreaming about her own death, and somehow those nightmares had been more bearable.

No matter how many times she told herself that it was over, that they were safe now, she couldn't forget.

She had taken to casting Muffliato around her room and locking the door with a charm that a simple Alohomora couldn't get through, because her family had other things to worry about than her dreams. The day after she had done this for the first time, Crookshanks looked at her resentfully at breakfast, as though saying, "Why can't I sleep with you anymore?" but that was it. And besides, the night before that she'd unconsciously kicked Crookshanks out of the bed during her nightmare.

She sat up in her bed, dragged the back of her hand across her sweat-soaked forehead, and struggled to calm her breathing. In, out. In, out. In, out. In... out. The raggedness of her inspirations surprised her – for days there had been a pain in her chest which she knew was more mental than physical, but this was the first time it ever hindered her breathing.

Then she felt something that wasn't sweat roll down her cheek, and realised she was crying.

"Shit," she said, and blinked twice, hard. She hadn't cried once since the Final Battle. She knew that if she did, she would be lost. Once she started, she wouldn't be able to stop.

Her eyes dried up, and she almost sighed with relief. "Now, get up," she said aloud, and did.

This was another new habit. She found it easier to get about her day by giving herself these short, clear orders. Get up. Eat breakfast. Brush your teeth. Smile, now.

"Breakfast," she said, then quickly muttered the counter-spell to Muffliato and unlocked her door.

She stepped into the hallway, thinking she would never get used to Grimmauld Place – and when would they go back to the Burrow? Why weren't they back home already? The house was big enough, and elegant, but she hated its dark austerity and the grim memories it held. Sirius had been unhappy here, and that unhappiness still clung to the very tapestries that hung on the walls.

She trailed her hand down the railing as she trudged down the stairs, her mind elsewhere. And when she reached the bottom, she nearly ran right into Hermione.

"Sorry, Ginny," Hermione said, offering a tense but genuine smile. "I wasn't watching where I was going. Have you just woken up?"

"Yeah," she said briefly.

"You're the last one," Hermione said, looking over her shoulder into the kitchen. "Almost everyone is in here – your mother and Percy are with George and your father is at work."

"Oh," Ginny said, then checked her watch.

It was six-thirty, and she was the last one awake. What had happened to Ron's constant sleeping in? To Molly having to wake them up personally, lest they sleep in all day? They were probably all haunted by nightmares – or, like George, they didn't sleep at all.

She followed Hermione into the kitchen and felt the atmosphere become heavier. The temperature might as well have dropped ten degrees from the chill she got just by setting foot in the room. Like Hermione had said, everyone was there, but no-one was talking. Everyone looked morose, unsmiling, and tired – not I-just-got-out-of-bed tired, but I'm-sick-of-this-life tired.

"Good morning," she said, forcing herself to sound bright and cheerful, and then she looked at Harry. "Happy birthday," she said gently, and her smile, for once, was sincere.

Harry looked surprised, but not that she had remembered his birthday. It was more like he himself had forgotten it was his birthday. The others looked confused, as though wondering that things like birthdays still existed. Hermione, who alone looked unfazed, grinned at Harry.

"Happy eighteenth, Harry."

"Yeah," Harry said, looking embarrassed. "Er – thanks, Ginny."

"You're welcome," she said, and blushed.

She couldn't see it, but she felt the heat creeping up her cheeks and looked away. His last birthday... exactly one year ago, they had shared their last kiss – and probably their best, too. Was he thinking about it? She looked back at him, and the look in his eyes said it all. She found she couldn't rip her gaze away from those bright green eyes, hollow and tortured now, but his eyes nevertheless...

"Happy birthday, mate," Ron said, and she wrenched her eyes away, and her other brothers joined in the chorus.

"I have a present for you," she said in a lower voice, avoiding Harry's gaze. "Here you go. Not the best gift ever, but... it seemed useful, anyway."

She held it out to him. It was a small, rectangular-shaped parcel which she had wrapped in red paper and tucked into the pocket of her pyjamas before falling asleep so she wouldn't forget it the next morning.

Harry looked down at the wrapped parcel, then up at Ginny, and shook his head. "You didn't have to get me anything."

"Open it," she said firmly.

So he did, cautiously peeling back the brown canvas paper to reveal a small wooden box. There was a strange pattern on the top; some pieces of wood were golden, others were brown, still others were so dark they were almost black. It was a puzzle box, and she noticed the look of confusion on Harry's face.

"Er," he said. "Thanks. I didn't know these existed in the wizarding world."

Yes, the useful side of a puzzle box was doubtful in a world where a well-practised spell and a good wand were enough to blast open virtually anything.

"I bought it at a stall in Diagon Alley," she explained, "so I can't promise anything – everyone knows the stall vendors are a bunch of crooks –, but this guy didn't try to sell me an amulet to protect me from werewolves, so maybe it has potential. I can testify the Undetectable Expansion Charm is real, he demonstrated for me, but I don't know how long it'll last."

"Expansion Charm?" Harry repeated.

"You can put lots of stuff into it, stuff that normally wouldn't fit. The same thing Hermione cast on her beaded bag. This guy demonstrated with an autographed Quaffle he was also selling."

Harry looked at the box, which was really just a hollow slab of wood. It couldn't be more than six inches long, three wide and two deep.

"Wow," he said. "That's pretty cool."

"If you can open it," Ginny said. "It's also supposed to resist to the usual charms – Alohomora and pretty much anything meant to blast it open if it's simple enough –, but I haven't tested that yet."

Harry's arm snaked across the table and caught her wrist, pulling her slightly towards him. She looked up and their eyes locked, and then she was drowning in green again, deep, empty, bottomless green that looked at her so intensely she thought she would burst into flames.

"Thank you, Ginny," he said softly, and then let go of her arm.

The moment passed, and she looked away again. A sudden flutter at the window caught her eye, along with the noise of feathers flapping through the air. Four owls were there, tapping at the glass with their beaks, small envelopes tied to their legs.

"Oh," her mother said as she entered the kitchen, sounding flustered. "At this hour, really? Happy birthday, Harry – oh, Ginny, these are Hogwarts letters."

One of the owls hopped over to Ginny as soon as her mother had opened the window, and Ginny recognised the Hogwarts crest on the seal.

The other their owls made their way to Harry, Ron and Hermione. And while Harry went pale and Ron suddenly looked sick, Hermione's eyes shone when she realised what this was.

"We did it," she said, her voice sounding almost too happy. "We did it! I didn't think – oh!"

Ginny knew what she meant. They had all been to the celebration for the rebuilding of Hogwarts and they had all witnessed the castle's miraculously swift restoration. Hermione had been more or less in charge of it. But it had all been surreal – changed, what with the plaques and graves all over the place, and too soon after the battle. None of them had really thought about going back to school. Ginny hadn't even been quite sure it would be possible, so soon after the castle's partial destruction.

When she opened her envelope with almost trembling hands, the first thing to fall out was a shiny, silver badge with a "C" engraved on it. She looked up in shock, but no-one was looking her way. Ron and Harry were still staring at their envelopes as though they might bite them, and Hermione was eagerly reading her letter.

Ginny silently pushed the badge into the back pocket of her jeans and unfolded her own letter:

Dear Miss Weasley,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted to repeat your sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. It has been decided that last year's tuition was incomplete and will have to be repeated for all students. The list of textbooks for this year remains the same. Additionally, you have been chosen as Quidditch Captain for your house this year.
Term begins as usual on September 1. Due to unexpected happenings, the sending of this letter was delayed. As such we await your owl by no later than August, 10th.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall
Headmistress

She put the letter down and once more scanned the others' reactions. Harry looked more grey than white now, and Hermione was looking at Ron almost... warily? Ginny looked down at the envelope still in her hands and drew out three other pieces of paper. The first was the list of textbooks and required equipment in case she had forgotten since the previous year. The third was a sort of form to fill out, which spiked her interest – but not as much as the third paper, an official-looking letter at the top left-hand corner of which the insignia of the Ministry was inked in.

Attn: Ginevra Molly Weasley

By the present letter and in accordance with the law of July 2nd, 1998, the Ministry of Magic would like to inform you of a change in procedure. The newly-voted law invites all Hogwarts students over seventeen years of age as of September 1st, 1998 and having participated in the Battle of Hogwarts to enter Auror training at the Ministry. Wizards and witches will not need to present their scores on OWLs, NEWTs or other exams to apply.

Please let us know of your intention to apply before August, 21st by sending an owl with the following form, completed in black ink, at the Ministry for Magic, Auror Department.

Education Minister Persephone Daleson

Read and approved by: Interim Minister for Magic Kingsley Shacklebolt

Ginny glanced up at Harry as soon as she had read the last word of this letter. He was holding his and staring at it like he couldn't quite believe his eyes. She knew, then, that he would agree. He wouldn't be going back to Hogwarts; there was no way he could, after what had happened there. He would achieve his dream and become an Auror, even though Voldemort was dead now. And he wouldn't come back to her.

Why did it bother her so much? She was the one who had decided on the split.

Across from her, Hermione had come to the same conclusions. "You're not coming back, are you?" she said, something like reproach and dismay in her tone.

But she wasn't talking to Harry.

"I'm sorry."

Ron was looking steadily at Hermione. Ginny wouldn't have gone as far as saying that his eyes were shining or anything like that, but he looked both pleased and determined.

Hermione shook her head. "Your education –"

"I'm sorry," he repeated.

She looked startled for a moment, then nodded slowly in grudging acceptance. "Fine," she said, not sounding like it was at all fine. "Fine."

And she stood up and fled from the room.

"Tactless," Ginny said, her eyes on the door. "You two won't last long if you keep acting like that."

"Like what?"

"I'm going to find Hermione," Ginny said abruptly, not wanting to hear Harry talk about never going back to Hogwarts.

And she left the room, ignoring her mother's indignant: "Ginny, your breakfast!"

Hermione had not gone far. She was sitting on the bottom step of the stairs, cradling her head in her hands. She wasn't crying, but Ginny could tell she was seriously considering it. She sat down next to her friend and was silent.

"It feels so unreal," Hermione said. "I think I understand him, because even I can't imagine... it just feels so strange to think of going back to school, after all that has happened."

"Unreal," Ginny repeated.

She wished it were unreal. She wished none of this had really happened.

"I know he'll go," Hermione said, her voice sounding very distant even though she was just next to her. "I think I always knew. It's not like he ever liked studying. But... it still hurts." She lifted her head a little and glanced sideways at Ginny. "You and Harry –"

"Are over," she said firmly.

"You still love him," Hermione said quietly.

"It doesn't matter. He's changed. But Ron and you – since when?"

"The battle," Hermione said, looking down at her hands. "It just happened, you know? I've liked him for a long time. But since –" she glanced up at Ginny again – "since Fred died, he hasn't been the same. I've been giving him space, you know? But it isn't enough."

"He just needs time."

"I know," she said. "Time apart from me."

"It isn't that."

"It is, though," she insisted. "He needs to spend time with you – his family. So I – I'm going back to Hogwarts, of course. And he's staying here."

Ginny reached out and covered one of Hermione's hands with hers. "I'm going back, too."

"You are?"

Ginny nodded, then gave a little half-laugh and reached into the back pocket of her jeans. "I've been made Captain of the Quidditch team," she said, showing her friend the badge.

"Oh, Ginny," Hermione said, giving her a genuine smile. "That's fantastic."

Ginny smiled back.

And burst into tears.

Without hesitating, Hermione wrapped her arms around her and held her closely. "Oh, Ginny. It's okay," she murmured senselessly. "It's going to be okay."

"I miss him," Ginny babbled, not knowing who she meant - Fred, or Harry? "I miss him, I miss him..."

"Shh," Hermione said soothingly. "I know you do."

"I can't believe he's gone," she cried into Hermione's shoulder, her words muffled by her friend's jumper. "I miss him so much... Why did he leave?"

Hermione held her tighter. "I don't know," she said quietly. "I really don't know, Ginny. But believe me, Ginny..."

The steel in her friend's voice made Ginny look up. Hermione's eyes were brimming with tears, but her smile was sincere.

"He'll be back."

And there we have it. Probably my least favourite chapter, so I'm just glad it's over with. I felt like I had to include it, but I don't particularly like the way I went about it. Something seems off.

To make up for it, there's a second chapter coming up soon, later today or maybe tomorrow... and Draco's in it.