Author's Note:

Almost 5 months ago I started this story and now that it's nearly finished, I'd like to share it with all of you (or the 3 of you that are reading this, yay for you!). It's a journey, sometimes you'll want to yell at Ginny I'm sure, and Harry too, but at the end of the day, I hope you enjoy the story I've created. I'm pretty proud of it myself.

I'd like to take a minute to thank Meyers for being my number one cheerleader, I really don't know if this story exists without your constant encouragement and excitement. Thanks to Hannah for betaing these first couple chapters and fixing all my terrible grammar. And to all the writers in the Ginny Lovers Discord, you make me a better writer each and everyday.

The rest of my Author's notes would be this long, hopefully... probably, maybe.

Updates on Sundays.

Ginny arrives back in the country much in the same way that she left it; quietly and with little fanfare. There's no one waiting for her with excited greetings or warm embraces when she steps out of the Floo, and it's exactly how she wants it. Needs it, really.

Dusting the residual powder off her shoulders, she quickly and purposefully makes her way towards the check-in, shaking her head a little to clear it as she goes. There's a line forcing her to wait, an unfortunate reoccurrence throughout this trip, which she does impatiently. She just wants this day to be over with already.

Still, when she finally takes her place in front of the attendant, she makes sure to keep her face polite and impassive. At this point, she's traveled through enough of these stations to know that showing annoyance is more likely to slow the process down than speed it up.

The man carefully looks through her documentation and she can't help but feel a knot of unease forming in her stomach. It's been years since she utilized any name other than the one her parents gave her, yet she's suddenly desperate for something to hide her true identity. Different documentation, a different face, different hair, anything to make her less noticeable.

Her discomfort is only increased by the fact that the attendant clearly recognizes the name on her paperwork, though really that shouldn't be that much of a surprise. Weasley has always been a well-known name, and its prominence has only grown in recent years as each of her brothers found their place in society and made their mark.

Fortunately for Ginny's nerves, he makes no comments about her, her family, or her extended absence. Not that he should. As sudden and unexpected as her departure was for her family, there was nothing all that usual about it. Lots of people left England in the months following the final battle, ready to make a new life away from memories of pain and loss.

After that, everything progresses quickly and easily. She answers the standard questions, gives her prepared responses and is then on her way with a polite nod of her head. It's a relief.

But the relief is short lived.

In the small waiting room, it was easy to forget where she was. The layout of them, the colours of the walls and even the barley suppressed boredom of the workers is all remarkably similar across the globe. It really doesn't hit her that she's home until she's stepping out into the main lobby of the Ministry and then when it does, it hits her hard.

Looking around the familiar space, she feels her heart rate start to speed up. She's not sure why, but she expected to find the room changed. Part of her thinks it should have. It's been nearly five years. She definitely has.

Instead, it's the exact same. Not the same as it was when Tom was at the height of his power, that would be ridiculous, but the same as how it looked when she'd come visit her father as a child. Same marble floor, same dull beige walls. Same art decorating the area. Same statue sitting over the fountain. For all she knows, it could be the same people, dressed in their same office attire passing her by. It's like time has stood still here. Like those awful years never existed in the first place.

Instead of being filled with peace, as she assumes was the purpose and not a total lack of originality, Ginny feels the tight knot of dread which she had valiantly been trying to push down since she left her little home, rise to the surface.

She's better now, not the shell of a person she was when she left, but in that moment, she doesn't feel like it. The tension that she used to carry around like a second skin feels heavy as it settles back onto her. She looks at the people around her and all of her old frustrations come back like they never left. They are so oblivious, walking around with their heads held high, unbothered by the price some people had to pay to give them that freedom.

For a moment, she lets herself wonder if coming back was a terrible idea. A second of hesitation that she doesn't often allow herself and really, it's not like she thought through the decision all that much.

Three months here, and twice as many in this region, and she still hasn't managed to adjust to this hot and sticky climate. Leaning over, Ginny desperately tries to catch a hint on the breeze coming through the open window, but it's no use.

No, half a dozen fans and every available fixture opened and it's still hot as hell in here.

With a resigned sigh, she flops back against her hammock bed. She'll just have to wait for the sun to go down to be productive. Closing her eyes, she tries to let the gentle swaying sooth her agitation.

When she opens them again a few minutes later it's still just as unpleasantly hot, but at least now she isn't as tempted to start blowing things up. Not that there's all that much to destroy.

Unconsciously her eyes wander the small space. There isn't much to see; over the years she's got good at limiting her number of personal possessions, but still, it's her home. Her house, even if it is really nothing more than a hut in the wilderness.

She's been in this place for over six months now, the longest she's stayed in any single dwelling for a long time, probably since Hogwarts. There's a comfort in that, in being able to visualize her surroundings in her mind with ease.

Still, when her eyes land on today's crumpled paper sitting on her desk/table/nightstand, the urge to move on is just as strong as ever.

Let's try for something a little cooler this time, she thinks to herself, stretching to grab the paper rather than attempt to find her wand where it fell onto the ground some time ago.

Paper successfully in hand, she quickly flips to the job section, having no desire to read through a likely incredibly biased account of current events. Once she's located the correct section, she tosses the others aside with no regard for where they fall.

Carefully, she reads down the page, making a list in her head as she goes. Some, she discounts as soon as she sees them, knowing that they aren't that type that will hire her without her having any formal experience, despite her undeniable skills. Others, she marks down as possibilities only because she knows that there aren't a ton of options.

On and on she goes, nonchalantly moving down the list until she sees something that makes her blood run cold despite the sweltering heat.

Looking for an experienced Curse Breaker to examine and explore a newly revealed underground passageway at Blishwick Manor.

Serious inquiries only, please contact Coby Williams.

Her cozy home disappears before her eyes and all she can see is Blishwick Manor as it stood when she saw it last. Memories of the Manor, of Deatheaters crowded into the main hall and the frantic chase to find answers before time ran out, flash before her eyes.

She thought that the case was closed. No, she knows that the case was closed. When the heat of the final battle faded away and suspicious individuals started to be questioned, the Aurors searched it. She knows that they searched the house because she was the one to make sure that it was on their list. Which is also how she knows that they came up empty handed.

There was nothing to be found, not by them and not by her.

That's why she left. Or at least one of the reasons. After all that time, the feeling of hopelessness weeks later when those answers were finally deemed unattainable was just too much.

Shaking her head to remove the ghosts of her past, she tries to focus on the present. The implications of the information race through her mind. There's something more to be found. There's a chance again.

A hasty decision indeed. One second, her biggest problem is the unbearable heat and the next, she's packing up her few belongings and traversing the international Floo back to England, diving head first into a situation that she left for good reason without a second of thought.

You could just leave, a dark voice inside her head reminds her and she could. She could return back to the safety and comfort of her new life. No one even knows she's here yet; there wouldn't be anyone to disappoint. Maybe she's better off leaving the past in the past. She has lived the last five years not really understanding what happened, why should she put herself through this all now? Especially since it's a very thin lead at best.

Standing there, in the middle of the Atrium, Ginny forces herself to stop and make a choice, stay or go.

Years ago, she would have just pushed herself to keep going, damn the consequences. She was reckless and impulsive with a singular razor sharp focus. She was who she had to be and she doesn't regret it even if all it got her was a downward spiral that started with her fleeing from the Burrow in the middle of the night with nothing but a rushed note in explanation and ended with her waking up alone in an empty bed.

Now she's more careful, at least most of the time. She thinks things through, methodically considering all the options in front of her before moving forward. It's something that she should have done before ever leaving her jungle sanctuary.

Ginny pauses in the Ministry atrium, surrounded by people going about their day, with the hard stone floor beneath her feet and the magical sunshine filtering down on her face, to do that now.

In the end though, it doesn't matter, there's really no choice. Despite her willingness to leave it all alone, she can't dismiss the nagging feeling in her gut. Plus, she's never been able to just walk away, not when it really mattered and she can't help feeling like this really matters.

So instead of walking back, she moves forward.

Once the decision is made, most of Ginny's anxiety dissipates. She's always done better when there's a clear path in front of her. It's the moments in between, the brief flashes of infinite possibilities that gets her.

Still, she takes a moment to gather herself, heading towards the exit into Muggle London rather than directly Flooing to the Burrow like she originally planned.

Walking around helps ease some of the tension from her shoulders, it's familiar ground, but not really. In all of her years traveling here to catch the train to school, first for her brothers and then eventually for herself, she only remembers one trip into this part of the city. It was the day they dropped Ron off.

She remembers being heartbroken, and desperate. More than anything she wanted to join her brothers on their adventures, she was so eager to grow up. Looking back now, she realizes how foolishly naïve she was. Less than a year later, she would already have the diary in her possession and that childhood she wished to escape would be gone, never to return.

Despite the darkness looming over the horizon, that day had been good. Her father took one of his rare days off work and they wandered around the city just the two of them . They went to a museum and she spent hours listening to her father talk about the Muggle world with a grin on her face, happy to have his undivided attention for maybe the first time in her life. Then later, after a busy day, they stopped to get ice cream cones at a place her father told her in hushed whispers was they very best in the whole world.

Sitting on the grass of one of the many parks, Ginny tries to focus on memories like that, to remind herself of all the things she'll be gaining by coming back rather than dwell on the control that she can already feel slipping away.

She watches the people around her. A young family at the park, an elderly couple strolling hand in hand, a group of friends playing football in the field across the way, and feels a wave of peace wash over her. It's not surprising that she feels more comfortable here, a lot of her first year away was spent in the company of Muggles.

In so many ways, their world is simpler. Even though they undoubtedly felt the effects of the war as much as their Wizard counterparts, they seemed to have bounced back faster. Sometimes she wonders if there is more to be had in remaining ignorant than having knowledge. With knowledge comes responsibility, and she's not sure that having the knowledge is ever worth the responsibility that comes along with it. At least in her case.

For a while she sits, letting the warm noon day sun chase away the ghosts of the past, until eventually, she feels recharged enough to face the next obstacle. Not that seeing her family is a hardship necessarily, it's just that it's another item on the long list of things she decided not to deal with when she left.

Finding an abandoned corner to Apparate from is easy, maybe a little easier than Ginny would have liked. With a final glance around and another calming deep breath, Ginny turns on the spot, the image of the lane leading up to the Burrow as clear in her mind as the day she left.

"Dang bloody time zones," Ginny curses when she lands and sees the Burrow overflowing with people.

While it was only Saturday morning when she began her adventure home, the perils of international Floo and a nearly 12 hour time change puts it just past noon in England, right in time for the traditional Weasley Sunday lunch. iSo much for coming in under the radar/i, she thinks bitterly.

Although it would be easy, she doesn't let the new revelation slow her steps. She's already spent more than enough time hesitating and unsure today. It's time for her to embrace her path with confidence, to become the Ginny that she used to be before life and circumstances tore her down.

It only takes her a moment to reach the gate, where she quickly gains the attention of one of the kids playing in the yard. It's a relief to realize that none of the adults are outside. Kids, she can handle. All she is going to receive from them is curiosity and maybe a little suspicion. Nothing close to the hostility she might face from her brothers and parents.

"Hello," she says, stepping through the gate and then tentatively crouching down to the small child's height.

The child takes her outstretched hand easily with an unreserved trust that she hasn't experienced in a long time. "I'm Domi."

Before she gets the opportunity to respond, another girl around the same age steps around the trees lining the property and into view, eyeing Ginny with the wariness she initially expected.

"Domi, what are you doing? You shouldn't be talking to strangers."

Although she can't be more than three feet tall, she has an air of pompous disapproval, standing there with her little arms crossed, glaring at the other girl. Her posture, her attitude seems so achingly familiar. She must be Percy's daughter.

"Molly, it's fine," Domi responds impatiently, confirming Ginny's suspicions. "She's inside the fence, she can't be bad."

Molly scrunches up her face a little, trying to think the problem though, "I don't think that's how it works."

"Yes it is!" Domi tells her insistently.

Eventually another child appears, breaking up the argument and drawing the girls' attention. Unlike the other two, Ginny is easily able to place this child. Victoire looks almost exactly like her mother, walking towards them with an effortless grace that Ginny is positive she didn't have at five and isn't sure she has even now. At least anywhere besides in a duel.

Lost in her thoughts, she doesn't realize that the focus has shifted to her until Molly asks, "well what do you think?" gesturing to Ginny, "Domi shouldn't have been talking to her, right?"

"That's not a stranger, that's aunt Ginny." Victoire says easily glancing at Ginny over her shoulder only to do a double take. "It's aunt Ginny! I got to get Daddy."

It's only as she watches a fully walking, talking Victoire run back towards the house that she truly feels how long she's been away. Rationally, she knows how much she's missed, countless birthdays and holidays, Percy's wedding, Fred and George's unexpected elopements. The birth of her nieces and nephews. She's missed a lot. Too much.

Within minutes Bill emerges over the horizon led by an impatient Victiore.

"Come on," Ginny can hear her urging her father as they round the final bend, "you're going to want to see this."

"Yeah," he says affectionately, "what did you girls find?"

Victoire busts through the trees blocking Ginny from view and then spreads her arms wide. "See!"

"Ginny?" he asks astonished, the easy smile dropping off his face.

"Yeah, it's me" she tells him even though there's really no reason, today she looks very nearly the same as the day she left.

"What are you doing here?" he asks and Ginny can't help but wince internally. She knew there was a possibility of not receiving a warm welcome, but honestly, she didn't really think it would happen. Still, if there was going to be anyone who held onto resentment over the way she left, it would be Bill.

She knows that her leaving was hard on all of her family, particularly him. As the youngest and the oldest, they have always had a special bond, but it was more than that too. Out of everyone, he was the only one who actually caught a glimpse of what her life was really like. While everyone else got straight up lies, a façade of the girl they wanted to see, he got partial lies and half-truths.

Sometimes, she thinks that made it all harder. The fact that he knew there was a problem, but that he couldn't do anything to help. That when it came down to it, she didn't trust him enough to let him all the way in.

"I'm home," she says simply, shrugging. There's no other answer to give.

But apparently that wasn't the right response because he makes no further attempt at discussion. The silence drags on and the tension between them grows. They are trapped in a stalemate; the Weasley stubbornness in its purest form.

She's not going to make excuses for her behaviour, today or all those years ago and she's not going to apologize. Doing so isn't going to change anything that happened. And really, she doesn't want to change anything. She did what she did because it's what she knew needed to be done. She can't live with regrets; she won't.

"Daddy?" a little voice asks confused at the odd tension growing between the reunited siblings.

That seems to break Bill out of whatever trance he was in because one moment he's staring her down like she's someone to be wary of and the next he's moving to hug her like he had no hesitations in the first place.

It's confusing, to say the least, but she accepts the embrace easily, falling into his large arms as she had so many times before. She holds on a little harder than necessary, childhood memories of safety and comfort flashing through her mind.

Merlin, she missed him. Part of her wants to just stay right in this moment forever where it's easy to believe in a better world, one where good always triumphs over evil; where happily ever afters exist and fighting villains doesn't come with a cost.

He lets out a gentle sign, quiet enough that their audience won't hear it, "I really am glad you're home, Firefly."

She just nods against his chest, unsure or maybe unable to say anything.

"Come on, let's go inside. I'm sure everyone else wants to see you," Bill says, eventually pulling out of the hug slightly to toss his arm over her shoulder.

Led by a train of children, he directs her towards the house.

"Where's Dad?" Ginny asks when the chaos dies down. Seeing everyone again has been great, better than she hoped for after the oddness of her reunion with Bill, if not a little overwhelming. Almost since the moment she walked into the familiar kitchen, she's been surrounded by people, family members both old and new ving for her attention, but through it all there's been one notable absence. To be honest, she's starting to get concerned. She hadn't heard of anything happening to her father, but that is also not the kind of news you send in a letter.

"Oh, of course, yes." Mrs. Weasley says wiping her eyes one more time on her apron and then pulling it off, "he was out in the shed with Harry earlier…. I'll just run and get him."

She watches her Mum's retreating figure with an uncomfortable mix of emotions. If she's honest with herself, she knew that there was going to be tears from her Mum, still, she's thrown by the amount of emotions they all have shown at her return. Logically, she knows that she was missed, their regular letters to her were proof of that enough, but she had convinced herself that they were fine without her. Now through, seeing their reactions first hand, she's forced to confront the very real truth that she hurt them leaving and more by staying gone.

As she struggles to come to terms with the damage her actions caused to, not only her family, but also herself, everyone else drifts out of the cramped kitchen until it's only her brothers left scattered around the space with her.

It's awkward for a moment, no one quite sure what to say. She should have expected it, five years it a long time, especially when they didn't know her all that well in the years before that either, but it's jaring. Still, she squares her shoulders and braces herself for whatever is coming. She might not have come back here with the intention of getting her old relationship with her brothers back, but now that she's here, there's nothing she wants more than to fix whatever she might have broken between them.

The silence ligners, feeling particularly suffocating in the normally loud space, until Fred breaks it with a dramatic sigh. Looking first at George and then to her he asks, "Did you bring me back anything?"

After that the tension is broken.

Percy mutters under his breath, "Honestly, how old are you?"

Ron turns to her, eyes matching Fred's expectant expression. Even Bill lets out an unexpected laugh.

She just shakes her head, a wry grin threatening to find its way onto her face. It's good to be home.

"You've never met Harry, right?" Ron asks her with a snicker before turning to look at George with a glint in his eye.

She shakes her head slowly, warily, the tingly feeling of an imminent prank pricking the back of her neck.

"You wouldn't have," Percy adds helpfully, "he didn't go to Hogwarts."

"This is going to be good," Fred remarks, nudging George.

"Oi, Harry!" Ron yells loud enough to be heard across the property.

"Was that really necessary," Percy complains, "you are a Wizard, there are much more effective ways."

"Now just remember to stay calm," Ron teases her, ignoring Percy completely, "he's only a person, same as you and me."

Ginny just rolls her eyes and gives him the finger which only serves to rile up the rest of them more. The thing is, 7-year-old Ginny would be shaking with excitement at the prospect of meeting Harry Potter, but 23-year-old Ginny has no feelings about the Boy Who Lived other than a vague annoyance that the person who was supposed to be the saviour of the Wizarding World only entered the fighting at the very end of the last battle.

She doesn't care about Harry Potter one way or another, but the camaraderie with her brothers is something that she wasn't sure she'd ever really get back. Even Bill has joined in, relegating the group with stories of her childhood obsession. So she embraces the mocking with cursing and threats, of course.

A dark haired man pokes his head around the corner interrupting Bill's recounting of the time she married 'Harry'. "You called?"

"Yeah mate, come meet the long lost Weasley sister."

Harry steps further into the room with his hand outstretched in greeting, but Ginny makes no move to take it. She can't, her vision is narrowed down to his face. A face which she recognizes, one she knows intimately, and not from her picture books.