"I'm leaving, Ron, do you hear me? Leaving! I know Mum sent you after me, don't you even try to stop me, don't you dare - "
He sighed. "I'm not going to try anything, Ginny. I just wanted to talk."
"There's nothing to talk about!" She wasn't crying, but her eyes were wide and wild in the lamplight and that was somehow worse. He ran a hand through his hair, wishing Hermione was there. Wishing Harry -
"You can't leave," he said, mostly to keep from finishing the thought. "It would kill Mum."
Ginny's laugh was tinged with hysteria, and he realized that it had been the wrong thing to say. Before he could even open his mouth to try again, though, she turned her back on him and began feverishly cramming clothes into the open trunk.
"I can't stay here," she muttered in a low, frantic voice. "I can't, not now, not after this - the newspapers want to talk to me, they want me to do interviews about him - "
Ron's hands clenched involuntarily, and he swallowed hard against the lump in his throat. For a long moment, the only sound was that of Ginny packing.
"I'll talk to Mum." For a brief moment, he didn't even recognize the voice as his own. "I'll explain."
She nodded wordlessly and slammed the trunk shut.