Title: Losing Faith

Summary: It's the summer after Ginny's sixth year, and Voldemort is dead. But still, things are not how they should be. How will everyone cope now that the worst threat is over? HG RHr

Genre: Angst/Drama

Rating: T

Disclaimer: It's all JK Rowling's. 'Nuff said.

A/N: I know I said that I was hoping to update this more frequently, but I only just moved out of my parents' house and into a student flat last week, and started university to boot. So I've been a tad busy, I'm afraid, but am all settled now so onwards with the fanfiction! Thank you kindly for the reviews – CaptainOats+PrincessSparkle, I am planning to have some happy Harry/Ginny time but want to get the nitty-gritty details out the way and unfortunately that means some angst for poor Ginny first. Sorry, it has to be done!

On another note, after much contemplation I have changed this to Angst/Drama rather than Romance/Drama. It will still have romance in eventually but not enough to be classed as romance at present, and it is far too angsty to simply be a drama!

V I V I V

DREAMING

Ron and Ginny exchanged startled looks before dashing from the kitchen in the direction of the noise. The fireplace had sealed itself back over by the time they had got to the doorway of the living room, and the newcomer was just getting to his feet with a pained grunt, brushing the dust off his clothes and resting one hand against the wall to steady himself.

Ginny swallowed down the mixture of relief, dismay and guilt that was rising up at the sight of her injured brother. "Fred…" She began in a shaking voice, barely able to talk around the lump in her throat. He shot her an unidentifiable look before lowering himself onto the couch, wincing. In an instant she was kneeling at his feet, struggling to push Harry to the back of her mind as she looked over her brother for injuries. "Where are you hurt?"

"Nothing serious." Fred said hollowly, waving a hand dismissively. "Just a bit bruised and battered." He glanced from Ron to Ginny. "Are you both all right?"

"F-fine." Ron stammered, frozen in the doorway. "What – what's happening out there?"

There was a long silence, as if Fred were trying to choose his words carefully – something he never did – and it terrified both youngest Weasleys. "It's over." He said finally. "The Order and the Aurors are just – trying to help injured now."

"Over in what way?" Ron demanded. "Did You-Know-Who flee again? Or…" He turned a little green at the other few possibilities.

"No, he didn't flee." Fred sighed heavily and Ginny felt a pang of sorrow – it seemed her brother had aged ten years in the past few hours. "Ron, Gin… he and Harry faced off."

"Ron said that Harry was heading in Voldemort's direction." Ginny said, startled at how steady and calm her voice was. "Who won?"

"We did." A new voice said, and Ginny spun around to see Fred's twin stepping out of the fireplace, looking weary and old but otherwise uninjured. "Voldemort's dead."

"Good." Ron said instantly, looking not ecstatic but simply relieved.

Ginny didn't know quite what she was feeling – there was the overwhelming sense of relief that it was, just as Fred had said, over, but concern for the members of her family that she had not yet seen, and would not stop worrying about until she saw each of them herself, and the nagging feeling that there was something the twins were not telling them.

"Something's wrong." She said, looking from one twin's face to the other. Fred carefully avoided her eye; George merely looked uncomfortable. "What is it?"

"It's not our place to say." George muttered.

"Screw that!" Ron said loudly, his brow creased. "I don't care who tells me, just as long as you spit it out now."

Hermione jerked awake to darkness, and lay there for a moment trying to recall why she had awoken. Silence aside from Ginny's heaving breathing greeted her, and she had started to drift back off to sleep again, relishing in the warmth of the bedcovers, when her eyes snapped wide open again. Ginny had started tossing and turning feverishly, murmuring unintelligible words under her breath. Another nightmare, Hermione realised with a sad sigh, and she left the warmth of her bed to move to her friend's side.

"Ginny… wake up, Ginny."

"It's Harry."

The words echoed through Ginny's mind as she stared up at them through wide, terrified eyes. She had suspected, but silently pleaded that it wasn't, that surely he had been through enough. Surely he wasn't dead… he couldn't be. Not her Harry, not after everything…

"He's alive." George continued in a monotone. "But it doesn't look good."

"What do you mean?" Ron asked, his face tinged green and looking rather sick.

"The duel with Voldemort – he had to use a lot of magic and with the brother wands not working properly…" Fred said haltingly. "There was – a bit of a power overload. It was too much…" He exchanged a worried look with George. "It effectively made both Voldemort and Harry's bodies and minds… well, shut down."

"We thought – when we saw, we thought both of them were dead." George spoke up, seeing Fred couldn't continue. "But Harry was still breathing..." He stared down at his hands, twisting his fingers together. "So far he's been unresponsive… he's in a coma, and – well, they don't know if he'll wake up."

Ginny was vaguely aware of Ron stumbling from the room, unable to hear anymore. Fred was wrong. It wasn't over. Not by a long shot.

"Ginny…" George knelt next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulder. "If – when – if he does wake up, they're not sure whether he'll be… still Harry."

Insanity. That was what he meant, even if he didn't want to say it. Ginny crumpled into her brother's chest, sobbing, hating everything and everyone and desperately wondering when it would end – if it did.

Tears were streaming down Ginny's face as she stopped tossing around, and Hermione breathed a sigh of relief as her eyes flickered open slowly. "Ginny?" She repeated, touching her arm gently. Startled, Ginny flinched away, scrambling into a sitting position still half-asleep. "It's just a nightmare." Hermione said in as soothing tone as she could. "It's okay. It's just me. You were having a nightmare."

Scrubbing at her wet face with the back of her hands, Ginny said nothing for a few moments, struggling to regain her composure. Hesitantly, the older girl perched on the edge of the bed, tracing her fingers across the pattern on the blanket. "It – it wasn't a nightmare." Ginny said finally, in a hoarse, choked voice. "I – it was when… when we were told what happened to Harry."

Hermione sucked in a long breath through her teeth. She had been at Hogwarts when the Death Eaters had attacked Hogsmeade, and so had not seen Ron or Ginny's reaction to the news, but understood that it could not have been good, and certainly not something that would be pleasant to be remembered.

"I don't understand," Ginny said suddenly, tearfully. "Why?"

"Why what?" Hermione felt her heart thumping in her chest; she had a feeling that, in her vulnerable state, her friend was on the verge of revealing why she had been acting strangely for so long. It was definitely more than aftermath of the attack, she was sure of that.

"I just – I don't know." Ginny sighed heavily. "I keep… I keep remembering." She tugged the blankets up to her chin, burying her nose in them and breathing in the clean, familiar scent. "The attack, what happened afterwards… all the bad things, they just keep coming back to me, and I – I can't stand it!"

Hermione felt her eyes sting with tears for her friend. "Oh, Ginny." She said softly, torn at the heart-broken look on the redhead's face, and placed a gentle hand on the latter's shoulder.

"It's driving me crazy." Ginny said hoarsely. "When – when I'm not having nightmares about it, they just keep popping up during the day, like… like flashbacks, or something. I'm reliving it all over again and I want it to stop!"

"Why don't you ask for some Dreamless Sleep potion?" Hermione suggested. "Maybe it will help."

"It won't help during the day, will it?" Ginny asked bitterly, sliding back down into a lying position. Hermione's heart sank; it seemed that Ginny had decided she did not want to share anymore information. "Go back to sleep, Hermione. I'm sorry for waking you up."

And before Hermione could protest, Ginny had turned her back and was facing the wall, pointedly signalling the end of the conversation.

V I V I V

"She had another nightmare." Hermione said to Ron Sunday morning as they sprawled under the large oak tree in the back garden, feeling slightly guilty but reminding herself that she had never promised Ginny she wasn't going to say anything to another member of the family. Ron's face creased into a concerned frown.

"Is she having them a lot? Since the attack…"

"I've not been woken up by them before." Hermione replied. "But – from the way she talked about them, they seem a regular thing. And – she says she's getting flashbacks of them during the day, as well."

"That's not normal." Ron said worriedly. "That's definitely not normal."

Hermione shrugged, tears shining in her eyes. Seeing the distraught look on his girlfriend's face, Ron rested a reassuring arm over her shoulders, squeezing her to him. "I just – I hate feeling so helpless." She murmured into his neck, fighting to keep the tears at bay. "Sometimes it looks as if she's all right, and then, at other times… you can just see, nothing we can do or say will make things better. The only person that can is Harry, and we have no idea where he is."

"When I get my hands on him…" Ron growled, though his voice lacked the rage that should have been there. He felt Hermione shift against him.

"No. I mean – I want to be so angry at him for how much he's put Ginny through, but how can I when I don't know how he's coping with all this?"

"We need to find him." Ron stated firmly. "I don't care whether he needs more time, or whether he wants to be found… damn it, my sister is nothing but a shell of what she used to be – who would have thought a teenage romance would end up so – serious?"

"Are you kidding?" Hermione asked in hollow tones. "Ron… Ginny and Harry, this isn't a teenage romance. Don't you get it? If it hadn't been for Harry, then Ginny would not still be here today. If it weren't for Ginny, Harry would have never rebounded from the attack as quickly as he did."

"Rebounded?" Ron gaped at her. "He's not rebounded at all – he's still caught right in the middle of it, and so is Ginny, and…"

"He came out of the coma, didn't he?" Hermione snapped. "After we were told for so long that he wouldn't be the same Harry we always knew, that we shouldn't have hope because there was a bare minimum chance, didn't he come back?"

"No." Ron's eyes flashed. "He didn't, Hermione. I know that Harry was always quite – serious, thanks to those Muggle relatives – and he had that 'saving people thing', but this is really taking it to the extreme. He seems to think that we'll be better off without him around. That's not saving us, that's pure insanity. He's not serious, he's bloody depressed – it's not Harry, don't you get it?"

"And Ginny is not Ginny anymore." Hermione finished off. "They are two amazing people without each other, but they've learned what they're like together, and to be forced apart… they're just not trying. Well, Ginny isn't. She's simply waiting. She's waiting for him to return, because she loves him." Her dark eyes penetrated into Ron's blue ones. "What if it were reversed roles? What if it were you and I instead of Harry and Ginny?"

Ron paused to think it over, a cold feeling gripping his insides. He imagined being away from Hermione, against his own better judgement, simply because he thought it better for everyone else. He imagined being away from the rest of his family, where even after Lord Voldemort's death his life was not spent as he longed it to be. Months of being alone after having been alone for so long – endless summers with the Dursleys, and then there were those ten years before that… it was certainly something that Harry was used to and never complained about yet evidently hated.

He gave a shudder and unconsciously tightened his grasp on Hermione. "I'd hate it." He said hoarsely. "But – I'd do the same, because after… after his parents, and Cedric, and Sirius, and Luna… it's no wonder he thinks he's better off away from us." His brow creased into a frown. "But – Voldemort's dead. The Death Eaters have all been killed or sent to Azkaban. We're not at war anymore, and we're not under threat."

"I don't think he quite believes it yet." Hermione replied softly. "After all, what have the past seven years been all about? Voldemort. Even when we thought Voldemort was dead, or at least fallen, he kept popping up – I think Harry still expects him to at any point."

Ron kicked his heels against the soft turf. "I hate this." He muttered viciously. "Whatever happened to the celebrations that should have been taking place after we won? Bloody Voldemort. Even after he's dead he's still haunting us."

Hermione silently agreed, wondering sadly what had happened to the meagre conversations she, Ron and Harry had had over the years and strangely longing for that time when she had wished she could, for once, have a serious conversation with Ron. No more was it complaining about homework, or Professor Snape, or excited chatter about Quidditch. Long gone were the few years when their adventures had been just that – thrilling, daring adventures.

At the peak of the war, and the final demise of the Lord Voldemort, Harry had withdrawn into himself, Ron had stopped baiting her (oh, how she missed that), and Ginny's eyes had stopped twinkling. They were no longer children, several years before their time.

Depressed all over again, Hermione rested her head on Ron's shoulder, struggling to bring the topic to a lighter point. "When do you start Auror training?" She settled for at last, pulling a face at her own question.

"January – just after the New Year." Ron replied. "I think I'll get a job after the summer finishes for the few months before Christmas – I'd like to actually be earning." He nudged her gently. "Have you chosen out of your hundreds of job acceptances yet?" He teased. She blushed furiously.

"I – I think I have."

"What?" Ron sat bolt upright, jolting Hermione off him and almost sending her flying. "When did you decide that? Why didn't you tell me? What is it?"

"I've only been seriously thinking about it over the past few days; I haven't even replied to tell them I accept yet." Hermione explained. "Professor Flitwick – he's retiring next year, so I'm going to be an assistant to him this year and then take over as Professor once he leaves Hogwarts."

Ron gaped at her. "You really must love that place to want to spend the rest of your life there." He said, awed. "I don't know why I'm surprised, though – Professor Hermione Granger, eventual Head of Gryffindor, Charms extraordinaire, and fancied by all the blokes."

Her flush deepened. "Ron!"

Chuckling, he bent his head to hers, rubbing their noses together fondly. "I can picture you as a Professor." He said softly. "You'll love it."

"I hope so." Hermione replied, smiling at the thought of returning to the school where she had truly found herself and the best friends she could ever have wished for. They lapsed into a comfortable silence, Ron absent-mindedly twirling a strand of Hermione's thick brown hair around his finger as she leant into him, daydreaming of the better days.

V I V I V

Running her hands through her tangled, greasy locks, Ginny glared at the bedroom wall, torn between wanting to curl back under her warm covers and the worry that the nightmare would return. She settled for wrapping the thick duvet around her shoulders and sitting cross-legged on the end of the bed, staring out the window at the lane that led down to the village. The sunshine, which usually brightened her mood, was somehow making her feel even more depressed and she yanked the curtains back over the window, relishing in the comfort of the dark and quiet.

This was, of course, abruptly ruined by her brother and Hermione bursting into the room.

"Bloody hell, Gin!" Ron swore as he stopped and stared in surprise. "It's three in the afternoon!"

"It's also Sunday." Ginny retorted pointedly; their one day off in the week, and the day she intended to spend lazing around, sleeping, eating and doing all the things she really enjoyed. "Have you ever heard of knocking?"

"Why is it so dark in here?" Hermione murmured, ignoring the siblings as she crossed to the window and pulled back the curtains that Ginny had only just closed. Bright light swarmed into the room, making all three of them wince.

Crossing her arms, Ginny tapped her bare foot against the floorboards. "What was so important that the two of you decided it would be all right for you to burst in without knocking?"

"Ginny, Hermione's staying in this room." Ron reminded her. "Do you knock on your own bedroom at Grimmauld Place just because you share with Hermione?"

Rolling her eyes, Ginny said nothing.

"Ron and I are going into the village." Hermione said at length. "The summer festival was on all week, and today is the final day – are you coming?"

Ginny hesitated; the summer festival that was traditionally held in Ottery St. Catchpole was something that she had loved going to as a child and even as a teenager. Full of bright colours, dancing and magic, wizards and witches alike spent the week of the holiday gathering together to play games, take part in competitions and buy useless objects off stalls.

It was ever so slightly tacky, which was probably why Ginny and Ron loved it so much. Harry had come with them the previous year, and having never been to such a thing magical or Muggle, was absolutely enthralled by the whole thing.

Suddenly Ginny wasn't sure she wanted to spend the afternoon around all the merry, drunken wizarding folk.

"I don't think so." She muttered. "Thanks, anyway."

Ron looked disappointed. "Ginny – did you not hear Hermione? It's the final day. You've not missed the summer festival since… well; I can't remember us ever not going! You can't break the tradition!"

"I'm not really in the mood, Ron."

"You will be once you get there." Ron insisted, tugging the blanket away from Ginny's shoulders. "Please, Ginny – get dressed and we'll meet you downstairs in fifteen minutes, okay?"

"We're not taking no for an answer." Hermione added. Heaving an exaggerated sigh, Ginny felt a smile twitch at the corner of her mouth as she finally nodded in agreement.

"Okay, fifteen minutes. Now, shoo!"

Half an hour later saw Hermione, Ron and Ginny strolling along the wide, paved streets of Ottery St. Catchpole, continuously looking in all directions to take in the hustle and bustle of the weekend afternoon. Primarily a wizarding village, the folk had no qualms about sending flower petals dancing into the air from their wands, or fountains of lemonade streaming down the street, and the excitement was contagious.

The children danced in circles, giggling happily as they tasted sweets from the Honeydukes stall and bought pranks from the Zonko's table just along from the cathedral. Ginny watched with a fond smile as a young brother and sister trotted after their parents' hand-in-hand, a glorious reminder of herself and Ron when they were small. Several students of Hogwarts moved along at a slow pace, chatting eagerly and basking in the sunlight.

"Ginny! They've brought it back!" Ron yelled suddenly in delight, pointing in the direction of one of the games stalls where a wizard was shouting something unintelligible out. One of her and her brother's favourite games in the festival when they were little, which they had not played in years, was back in action. With a squeal, Ginny grabbed Ron's hand and dragged him towards the stall, eagerly fishing out the sickle to play the game that had been developed from the Muggle 'three-legged-race'.

Magical binds connected Ginny's left side to Ron's right, and she gave him a laughing smile as they stumbled off at the shrill whistle that emitted from the wizard's wand. Much older than the rest of the competitors, it was a surprise that the Weasley children fell into the last place quite quickly, tripping over and clinging to each other as they shrieked with mirth. Hermione, on the sidelines, was practically sprawled out on the ground and crying with laughter.

Only a few foot short of the line and well behind the rest of the seven and eight year olds, Ginny and Ron went down for the final time, sides aching with both laughter and the magical bind, and lay there in a similar state to Hermione.

Fleetingly, Ginny realised that she had not thought of Harry all afternoon, and instead of the guilt that usually swept over her when she was having fun, her smile only widened. After all, she thought with a sudden strike of realisation, it's what he wants.

And so, the bind broken, she and Ron leapt to their feet and proceeded to drag Hermione in the direction of the lemonade fountains where they always danced, soaking wet and fizzing, among the rest of the giddy wizards and witches.

V I V I V

Phew! This was definitely the hardest chapter to write yet, and I'm still far from pleased with it, but there is no way I am starting it over. It was in fact started on the 14th of September – almost took me a month to write it! Update will hopefully be next week.