Only Half-Weasley

Chapter 17

A/N: Here is the next chapter! It has taken a while, but it will be worth the wait. After this, I have several assignments and then finals to finish and then I will be able to write more during December. Let me know what you think and thank you to those who reviewed! You encouraged me to keep writing this chapter and because of you, here it is!

The few weeks before Christmas were the quietest that Holly had endured in the four months that she attended Hogwarts. The twins had decided to put a temporary stop to their pranks, Ravenclaw flattened Hufflepuff in their game ("Serves them right!" Daniel had proclaimed), and Holly's lessons with Professor Potter were going very well. By the last week of the term, she was mastering new spells with much more ease. However, there was one thing that she missed about the new peace that had settled over the school. Quidditch had started up again and Holly no longer saw Ryan Mason in the common room.

Holly had to remind herself each day that he didn't matter, but each day it became more and more of an obsession, one that was very hard to control. It was during one of those days that she sat by the window and stared out at the Quidditch Pitch on the other side of the grounds, hoping to see Ryan's distant form, when the twins settled down in front of her.

"So, Holly," Daniel began, "plans for Christmas?"

The red-head looked up startled, her cheeks flushing at being caught staring out the window. She thought for a moment of Daniel's question and then shook her head. "Well, I always spend the day with my father's family, but it sounds like my grandparents are going to be in Paris over Christmas. My uncle lives there."

"Well, you and Cynthia are invited for Christmas dinner with our family," Daniel offered.

Holly looked interested. "Really?"

Michael beamed. "Yep! So what do you say?"

"I have to ask my mum," Holly said after a moment of thinking it over.

"Likely excuse," Daniel said and then called over his shoulder at the brown-haired girl sitting at a table behind them. "And Cynthia, what about you?"

"What about what?" she said tiredly.

"Christmas with us!"

Cynthia smiled sadly. "I'd love to, but we're spending it with some relatives."

"Relatives? Can't you get away?" Michael asked.

The brown-haired girl shook her head. "Not in my family. Thanks for the invitation, though."

The twins turned back to Holly, slightly disappointed. "Well, anyways, we're actually having Christmas at our grandparents' house. It's called 'The Burrow.' A few of my uncles are going to be there, though Uncle Charlie said he couldn't get away from work and Uncle Percy is in Toyko, but the rest of the family will be there."

Holly listened enviously, but her mind wandered back to her mum. What would her mum say? She couldn't imagine her mum spending Christmas alone, especially when it was Holly's twelfth birthday and her grandparents would be in France. "I don't know," she finally answered, averting her eyes back to the Quidditch field. The maroon dots that had been shooting around the stadium in blurred lines were now gone, leaving Holly to stare at the falling snow.

"Ah, come on, Holly," Michael begged. "You have to come."

"But my mum would be alone," Holly confessed, "and it's my birthday."

"Really?" Daniel said excitedly. "You didn't tell us your birthday was on Christmas! We ought to have a party!"

Cynthia raised her eyebrows and shook her head. "You are so insensitive."

"Am not!" Daniel returned defensively. "What's so insensitive about wanting to throw Holly a party?"

"Well, her mother is going to spend Christmas by herself, on the day Holly was born and her husband had died, and all you can think about is throwing a party for Holly? That's a bit rude, don't you think?" Cynthia said matter-of-factly.

"Your dad died on your birthday?" Michael turned to Holly. "That has to be the worst luck ever!"

Holly stared back coolly. "Yes well, thanks but no thanks," she told the twins, feeling slightly offended at their response. "Cynthia's right. I should spend the day with my widowed mum." She stood up and left the three by the window and headed towards the portrait hole. Outside of the common room, she walked carelessly around the corridors, not wanting to go anywhere, but not wanting to go back to her dormitory where she was sure to get bombarded with apologies. The fact was that they were right. She had always felt obligated to spend Christmas with her mother, but what about herself? When was she, Holly, going to ever do what she wanted for Christmas?

"Hey," a voice called to her as she rounded a corner on the fourth floor. Ryan Mason popped out from behind a portrait and was walking quickly to her.

Holly could feel her cheeks burn as he stopped a few feet away. "Oh, hi," she mumbled. "Quidditch practice?"

Ryan surveyed his wet and muddy robes and smiled. "How can you tell?" he joked. "I heard you were invited to the Weasleys' for Christmas."

"Oh yes, I was," Holly said, trying not to act surprised that he knew this.

"Are you going?"

"Oh well, I don't know," she said casually. "I have to ask my mom and…well…it's my birthday, so I don't…"

Ryan raised his eyebrows. "Really? You were born on Christmas? That must be quite a day for you!"

Holly looked down at her toes and surveyed her feet. "Yes, it is," she said.

"Well, I was just wondering. Arnold Weasley invited me. He's George Weasley's son. We've been good friends for a long time. The Weasleys always throw great parties and they are very respectable family," Ryan informed her. "I hope to see you there." He gave a small wave before turning around and disappearing around another corridor.

It was a few minutes before Holly was able to move. When she did, all she could think about was going to the party. Ryan had been invited! Not only that, but he knew she had been invited, too, and was looking forward to seeing her there. She had to go. Her mum had to let her.

"Holly! Holly!"

The red-head had barely stepped off the train when she spotted a blonde-haired woman waiting at her from across the station. With a grin on her face, she made her way through the crowds of parents to her own. "You don't need to make a scene, Mum," Holly told her, though welcoming her mother's embrace.

Ginny kissed her daughter on the head. "What? Am I not allowed to call out to my daughter now?" she questioned. "How is school? You've hardly written."

"Good," Holly replied. "Oh, I need to ask you something…"

"Mrs. Miller!" a voice behind them interrupted.

The two turned around to see Daniel and Michael walking towards them, their parents and younger sister following behind. Holly recognized the brown-haired woman as Mrs. Weasley, whom she had met a couple months before. The red-haired man who followed her resembled the three children and Holly guessed that this was Daniel and Michael's father. He was looking intently at Ginny as though trying to pin point where he had first met her.

"Mrs. Miller," Mrs. Weasley said cordially. "Nice to see you again."

"Nice to see you, too," Ginny answered, gripping her daughter's shoulder. Holly looked up at her mother. Was it her imagination, or did she look nervous?

Mrs. Weasley turned to Holly. "My boys were wondering if you would like to join us for Christmas," she invited.

"Oh, it's alright, Mrs. Weasley," Ginny answered for Holly. "We already have plans."

"Mum!" Holly cried.

"What?" Ginny turned on her.

"I want to go," Holly pleaded. "Why can't I go?"

Ginny gave her daughter a stern look. "We have plans."

Mrs. Weasley waved her hand aside. "Oh, it's alright," she said. "I don't want to interrupt anything."

"And what about me? Where do I get my say?" Holly retorted stubbornly.

Meeting her daughter's eyes with a warning expression, Ginny answered, "Because we already have plans for your birthday."

"But I want to go to the Weasleys," Holly said defiantly, crossing her arms. The two stared at each other, mirroring the other's angry, stubborn expression. "Let me choose what I want to do for a change."

The words worked like magic. Ginny leaned away from Holly to look at her daughter squarely. Holly, however, stood her ground. With pursed lips, Ginny turned to Mrs. Weasley. "Fine. Where is it?"

The Weasley family looked rather embarrassed at the confrontation. "It's alright," Mrs. Weasley reassured her quickly. "If you don't feel that Holly should go…"

"No, no," Ginny protested, though with a hint of annoyance. "She wants to go."

"It's at the Burrow," Mrs. Weasley said slowly. "I'm sure you know how to get there."

Ginny nodded and looked away towards the exit. "Yes, I'm sure we'll make it on time. Let's go, Holly."

Holly, who was rather surprised with her mother, waved at the twins. "See you, then," she said before turning away and following her mum out of the station. They did not get far when the two heard someone running behind them.

"Mrs. Miller, wait!"

Ginny turned around to find Hermione standing before them slightly out of breath. "What?" Ginny said coldly, much to her daughter's surprise.

"I'm sorry, Ginny," Hermione apologized. "The boys wanted me to ask. Holly doesn't have to go."

Holly looked up at her mother, too shocked that this woman knew her mother's name to protest her statement. What was going on? Ginny stepped closer to Hermione and talked quietly to prevent being overheard. "You promised not tell anyone," she hissed.

Hermione looked slightly taken aback. "I didn't…"

"Then what was Ron staring at me for?" Ginny questioned.

"Well, you did tell him his sister was dead," Hermione returned. "He doesn't know, though. No one does except you and me. Why are you so paranoid?"

Ginny looked grim. "I'm not. I'm just not ready to tell anyone."

Hermione gave her a dark look and crossed her arms. "Well, you need to. This hiding business is getting ridiculous."

Before Ginny could respond, Ron appeared at her side with the three children in tow. "Thank you, again, Mrs. Weasley for the invitation," Ginny said with a grimace. "She will see you on Christmas, then."

Leaving the Weasley family still standing in the middle of King's Cross station, Ginny led Holly out to the car. Neither spoke as they crossed the sreet into the parking lot and Holly didn't know what to expect. Would her mother yell at her display of defiance? Would she ground her for the entire Christmas break? And what was the whispering about?

As Holly shut her door, she turned to her mum. "Mum, I'm sorry, but-"

Ginny shook her head, but her voice was tense. "Not right now."

"I know, but-"

"Don't."

Holly threw her head against the seat. "Why do you have to be like this? I'm sorry!"

"I know, but you don't understand!" Ginny exclaimed, but then added with a sigh, "And you're right. You should be able choose what you want to do on your birthday."

"Really?" Holly said in surprise. "What about you?"

"Don't worry about me," Ginny said, turning on the engine to the car. "I do have friends to keep me company. Oh, and when you get home, you're grounded."

Holly smiled as they pulled out of the station. Some things never change.

Christmas Day came faster than Holly had anticipated. Before she knew it, it was Christmas Eve and she was packing for her stay at the Burrow. According to the letter Mrs. Weasley had sent her a few days earlier she would be staying until the day after Christmas when Mrs. Weasley would drop her off back home. Holly sat her room, constantly turning her attention back to the letter, unable to believe that she was really going to visit her friends.

"Holly? Are you all packed?" Ginny said, peering into her daughter's room.

Holly shoved her wand in her bag and zipped it close. "I think I have everything. You know where the Burrow is?"

"I think we can find it," Ginny assured her.

"Are you going to be ok?" Holly asked her mother slowly.

A pained look flashed over Ginny's face, but was immediately hidden behind a smile. "I'll be fine. There is plenty to do on Christmas and I can always use the opportunity to reconnect with some friends."

"Really?" Holly said, looking guilty. "Sounds like a plan."

"Yes," Ginny contemplated, "it will certainly be a nice day."

Holly thought for a moment. "I don't have to go-"

"Of course you do," Ginny told her daughter, settling herself at the end of Holly's bed. "It's your birthday. I often forget how fast you are growing up." She ran a hand through her daughter's red hair, trying to concentrate on the smooth texture instead of the small pain in her chest.

Holly put down her bag and embraced her mum. "Thank you," she whispered.

The following morning seemed like a whirlwind to Ginny. It felt like she had barely fallen asleep when she heard Holly pounding on the door, calling for her mother to wake up. Rolling off of the bed, she stumbled through her room and into the living room where she collapsed on the sofa. Her head ached and her heart felt unusually heavy, but none of this she wanted to reveal to her daughter. "Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday," she greeted.

"Merry Christmas to you, too, and thank you," Holly said joyfully. "Are you going to open gifts?"

Ginny rotated her head and stared at the miniature tree they had placed in their living room and the small pile of gifts that lay unopened next to it. "In a minute," she answered, picking herself up and stretching her arm muscles. "I'm going to make coffee."

"Can't you just use magic to make the coffee?" Holly inquired, raising an eyebrow.

"I could," Ginny considered, "but what fun would that be?"

Holly shook her head and opened a medium-sized wrapped gift from Cynthia. Inside was a box of chocolate frogs and a shield hat. "In case someone decides to hex you because your friends ruined the Halloween and cancelled Quidditch Games," the note read. Another rather lumpy package revealed a pale blue knitted scarf from her Grandma and Grandpa Miller and Uncle Jake sent several classic novels in French. The last gift for her under the tree was the one from her mother, but she didn't want to open it quite yet. Instead, she stood up and walked into the kitchen where she watched her mother prepare breakfast.

"I thought you were just going to make coffee," Holly asked.

Ginny held up a spatula and proclaimed, "My excellent cooking skills got the best of me."

Holly laughed. "You know they are expecting me around noon today. I shouldn't be late."

"I know."

The red-head waited tentatively for her mother to say more, but when Ginny did not, she went on. "Yeah, we're going to have Christmas dinner outside in their backyard near the garden. The twins say their grandmother is an excellent cook."

"I'm sure she is," Ginny answered quietly.

"Do you know how we're going to get there?" Holly asked.

"Apparition."

"Apparition?" the red-head said in surprise. "I didn't know you could apparate!"

Ginny studied her daughter's expression. "Of course I can," she said slowly. "Now enough talk, you need to eat before you go anywhere today. I don't want my daughter passing out in the middle of a Christmas party."

Holly was still marveling over her mother's magical abilities when a plate of eggs and bacon were set in front of her and she sat down at the table to eat. Breakfast was a slow process. Ginny sat across from her with a plate, but did not touch it. Instead, the mother pretended to become deeply interested in an article about the illegal dragon hide sales until the tinkling of silverware announced that that breakfast was over.

"Have you unwrapped all of your gifts?" Ginny asked, grabbing her daughter's plate and putting it in the sink.

The red-head shook her head, getting up. "Not the one from you. I'm wanted to open it in front of you."

Feeling a little surprised, Ginny followed her daughter into the living room and the two sat down in front of the collection of gifts. Ginny hadn't thought of the gifts that she would receive this Christmas, perhaps because she didn't get many and the people who still give her gifts always send the same thing—books, socks, and scarves. Sure enough, when she opened her first gift, there was a lumpy, brown scarf that Pam had made her. In another package from her employer was a pair of Christmas socks that she would never wear and lastly, there was a set of books from her brother-in-law who didn't seem to remember that, unlike her daughter, Ginny hardly ever read.

Holly studied her mother's expression as she opened each gift and the mock surprise that she showed before she set aside each gift to prepare for the next one. The last one she took was from her daughter. The gold wrapped box was small and thin and Ginny couldn't imagine what gift would be that small. She delicately opened the wrapping, careful not to tear the paper, and slid the box out. Lifting the lid, she found lying on a soft pad of cotton was a gold locket attached to a necklace.

"Holly!" Ginny breathed. "It's beautiful!"

"Open it, Mum," Holly encouraged, unable to hide the grin on her face.

With a click, the locket opened to reveal a picture of the mother and daughter that had been taken earlier in the summer. Ginny's hair was still flaming red and Holly's was a pale yellow, quite the contrast to what they are now. "Thank you," Ginny said softly, wiping her eyes. "Oh, you haven't opened my gift!" She reached forward under the tree and handed her daughter the wrapped box.

The red-head was less careful with the paper as it shred, but this did not seem to bother Ginny as the box was opened and Holly pulled out a crystal vial from the paper. The young girl examined the vial the contents of the vial for several minutes before saying anything.

"What is it?" Holly asked with a puzzled expression.

Ginny took a deep breath. "They're memories."

"Memories?"

"My memories."

Holly gave the bottled a flabbergasted look. "Your memories?"

"Yes, we've already established that."

The red-head stared at her mother quizzically. "Why would you give me your memories? Aren't these…well, yours? And what happens if you need them? Are you going to ask for them back?"

Ginny laughed at her daughter's nonplussed expression. "I don't need them anymore, no," she reassured her. "They're memories of your father."

Whether it was Holly's imagination or the fact that the sun was just peeking from behind a puff of cloud, but Holly swore the vial was beginning to glow and felt warm in her hands. Yet, she still didn't understand. How could these grayish swirls of material be memories? And if they were, how could she use them?

"I want you to hold onto them for now, Holly," her mother instructed her. "There will be a day when you will have questions about him and if I can't be there to answer them, then I want you to at least know what he was really like."

Holly nodded her head solemnly and tucked the vial in the pocket of her sweater. She still wasn't quite certain the purpose of this gift, but knew enough not to question her mother's motives. When she returned to her room later while her mother was getting dressed, she took out the vial and placed it in at the bottom of her trunk, wrapped in two socks to make sure it would not be damaged. She closed the lid and locked the case, never intending to think about the vial again.

Back in the living room, she met her mother who was now dressed for the weather and looking more presentable. The sun had disappeared again and the clouds were already threatening snow. "Are you sure you aren't forgetting anything? Tooth brush? Underwear? Jacket?" Ginny questioned.

The red-head rolled her eyes. "I have everything," Holly declared, holding up her bag. "Even my wand."

"Good," her mother said. "Alright, hold onto my arm. This is going to be a little tight, but you should be fine."

Holly was about to ask her mother what that meant when she felt herself suddenly suffocated, speeding quickly through an invisible tube that pressed on her from all sides. She shut her eyes and gripped her mother's arm tighter. Was this apparating? Had something gone wrong? She felt a slight pain in her left hand and just when she thought she could not endure the strain on her lungs anymore, the tube seemed to open and released the pair onto the ground.

"Ugh, what happened?" Holly said dizzily, still holding onto her mother's arm for support. She glanced at her hand, which was throbbing in pain, and her face became chalk white. Her left thumb just happened to be missing the thumbnail and was gushing out blood that quickly soaked the sleeve of her sweater. "Mum!" she screamed, holding out her hand.

Ginny's face was equally white as she surveyed her daughter's hand. "I am so sorry, Holly!" she cried, tapping the thumb with her wand. The area stopped bleeding and a layer of skin promptly started growing over the place where the thumbnail once was.

"My thumb," Holly said sadly, examining the stubby place which had once been a beautiful thumb. "What happened?"

"It got splinched," Ginny told her. "You'll be alright, though. Your nail should grow back in a few days."

"Days?" Holly whimpered.

Ginny picked up some of the snow off of the ground and handed it to Holly to keep on her thumb. While the latter was trying to numb the pain, Ginny took the opportunity to look around her surroundings. The hill they were now standing on was very familiar as she had once used a Portkey from this very spot to get to the Quidditch World Cup the summer before her third year. The Burrow, she knew, was just beyond the small town of Ottery St. Catchpole.

"Where are we?" Holly asked, attempting to read her mother's mind.

"Stoatshead Hill!" Ginny said brightly. "It's just a short hike from here. The Burrow is on the other side of that town." She pointed to the distant buildings and the river where the town was located.

Holly scrunched her nose. "Why couldn't we just Floo there?"

"There are going to be many guests, Holly," Ginny told her. "I don't want to crash into anyone and risk losing you in another fireplace. No, even with a splinch, this will be easier."

The younger girl could hardly believe that this was an easier option, but chose not to comment as her mother began to hike down the hill, sliding and stumbling on the hard snow. The short hike, it turned out, was much longer than either had an anticipated. Ginny couldn't remember it ever taking this long, though the last time she had hiked this trail she had been thirteen and she had other, more distracting individuals to keep her company. After what seemed like several hours (which in fact, was just over one), they turned onto the road that led them to the Burrow.

To Ginny, there could not have been a brighter, yet depressing place. Even at a distance, she could make out the small house that had been her childhood home. The windows were glowing, smoke was rising from the chimney, and even at a mile away, Ginny swore she could hear the chattering that was going on inside the walls. It was nerve-racking just being here, walking down this road. What if someone recognized her? No, that could not happen. No one but Hermione knew and it had taken her several days to figure it out. Yet, that still didn't seem to sooth Ginny's nerves. There was a feeling in the pit of her stomach to turn back and if it wasn't for Holly, she would have turned around right there and left.

Ginny knocked on the door and stood back as an older red-haired man with horn-rimmed glasses answered. Despite some differences in appearance, Ginny recognized her father's cheery face. "Merry Christmas!" he greeted them. "Come in, please! Molly, we have two more guests!"

A curious, round face appeared around the corner of the kitchen to see who it was. "Oh, hello!" the witch called to them. "New guests! Fred, is this the girl you were talking about?

Another red-haired wizard entered the room followed by his identical twin. He only glanced at Ginny for a moment before declaring, "No, that must be Bill's guest. She's too pretty to be Ron's."

Ginny flushed at her brother's comment, but corrected him, "Hermione invited us. Her boys are friends with my daughter, Holly."

"Oh!" the older witch exclaimed, coming over to get a good look at Ginny. "Are you Mrs. Miller?"

"I am," Ginny answered suspiciously.

"Hermione told me about you," the woman went on. "I'm Molly Weasley. You knew my daughter, Ginny."

There was an awkward silence for a moment in which Ginny did not know what to say. What had Hermione told her mother? Did her mother think she was dead? Had she seen the picture? "I did, yes," she finally answered slowly.

The expression on the older witch's face suddenly became sad and pulled at Ginny's heart. "I really appreciate the news you have given us," Mrs. Weasley thanked her. "We have been worried for so long. It was good to finally be able to know what happened to our daughter."

Ginny averted her eyes away from her mothers. She did not know how much more she could endure of this and was saved by the appearance of Hermione from the living room. "Jennifer!" Hermione called to her. "I'm so glad you could be here!"

Hermione welcomed Ginny with a warm embrace which was returned stiffly. "Jennifer?" she whispered in the brown-haired woman's ear.

Hermione only shrugged in reply before turning to address Holly. "Oh, Holly, the boys are out in the backyard. They should not be hard to find," Hermione told the younger girl. Holly did not hesitate to leave the awkward scene, leaving the adults behind to talk.

"Your friend is charming, Hermione," the older witch said. "I am so glad you could come for Christmas. It will be quite a party this year!"

"Oh, I'm not staying," Ginny informed her. "I just came to drop off Holly-"

Mrs. Weasley looked startled. "You're not staying? But you must! I have only heard great things about you!"

"But I have made other plans…"

"Jennifer, you must stay," Hermione begged. "Holly told the boys that you were going to be alone this Christmas. It would be wonderful if you would join us."

"I agree," Mrs. Weasley interjected. "I will not take no for an answer! You simply must stay!"

Ginny very much wanted to curse Hermione into oblivion, but in the presence of her mother and such persistence, she gave in. "If you insist," Ginny said finally, giving up.

Hermione beamed and Mrs. Weasley cried in joy. "Well, with one more on the table, I will need to make some extra rolls! Arthur, will you help me with the potatoes?"

The two older adults exited the room, leaving Hermione and Ginny quite alone. "I didn't want to stay," Ginny said through gritted teeth. "Do you know what kind of torture it is to be here?"

"Seeing as I didn't run away and then declare myself dead, then no, I don't know," Hermione said in a low voice.

"Hermione, where are you? I'm about to kill your queen," a voice called from the living room.

The brown-haired woman grabbed Ginny's arm. "At least enjoy yourself," she advised as she pulled Ginny into the living room.

There were several witches and wizards sitting around the large living room. It was much bigger than Ginny could remember, though she suspected magic had something to do with the increase in space. In the far corner, Ron was seated at a table and sitting on the couch just besides him was Harry who was reading an article in Quidditch Quarterly.

"Look who decided to join us!" Hermione announced to her husband and best friend. "Jenny, you've already met Harry Potter and this is my husband, Ron Weasley."

Ginny gave a small wave, though not wanting to meet either of their eyes. "Hello," she said nervously.

"Come here, Jenny," Hermione said, sitting down at the table across from Ron. "You can come watch me get slaughtered."

Feeling there was no way out of the situation she sat down in a chair besides the pair and surveyed the game. It was obvious even before Ginny could really get a good look at the board that Hermione was losing. Hermione was never good at these games and Ginny suspected that she was only doing this to please Ron.

"So, Harry? No date this Christmas?" Hermione asked him.

Harry looked up from his magazine. "No," he answered.

"What happened to Christine?"

"She wasn't a date," Harry answered. "She was just an acquaintance from the Ministry."

Hermione gave Ginny a sly grin. "He's still single, if you want to know," she whispered to Ginny.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Stop trying to set him up, Hermione," he told his wife. "You'd think after the last one didn't work out, you would have given up."

"He needs to date someone!" Hermione said defensively. "He can't be lonely all of his life."

Harry shook his head. "Then you don't know me, Hermione."

"Well, I haven't dated, either, since my husband died twelve years ago," Ginny declared.

Hermione and Ron looked surprised. "Twelve years?" Ron said flabbergasted.

Ginny waved off the comment. "I have three jobs and a daughter to take care of. I don't have much time left for dating."

Harry nodded, opening the magazine again. "See, Hermione?" he pointed out. "I'm not the only single individual out there who isn't dating."

"And what's your excuse?" Ginny blurted. She honestly wished she hadn't said anything when she saw the surprised look on Harry's face.

"I am a teacher," Harry answered, eying Ginny closely. "My job runs all day every day. It's hard to date when one person is gone for most of the year."

Hermione seemed to sense the tenseness in Harry's voice and quickly changed the subject. Yet, this did not lessen the anxiety that Ginny was feeling just being in the situation. It was like being sent back in time, fifteen years before, when the four had spent Christmas together at the Burrow and had been sitting in that exact spot chatting about what their jobs and their future. It had been just after Harry had defeated Voldemort and he was going in to Auror training. Ginny had felt sure that Harry had come that Christmas just to see her. How wrong and disappointed she had been then and even now. Still, after fifteen years, he had not changed. His excuse was the same: he was too involved in his work for him to find a partner.

"Tell me about your daughter, Jenny," Hermione requested. "She looks nothing like you."

Ginny did a double take. "Excuse me?"

Hermione leaned back in her chair. "She must take after her father, then."

"No," Ginny replied. "Her father had black hair. She was actually a blonde until your brother-in-law changed it."

"I remember that," Harry inserted. "I think George put a permanent spell on her. We couldn't change the color back or even to another color. This will make it difficult for her to take her OWLs in Transfiguration if her hair can't change."

"Well, that explains that," Hermione said disappointedly. "You've been a single mother since Holly was born?"

"Yes," Ginny replied icily.

"How did you do it?"

Ginny raised her eyebrows. "With help."

"Hermione, she doesn't want to talk about her personal life," Ron informed his wife. "Can't we talk about another subject? Quidditch?"

Hermione glared at Ron. "Men," she muttered. Ginny, however, was grateful for the opportunity to change topics. It was unfair of Hermione to take advantage of her awkwardness by interrogating her. The next few hours were quite uneventful besides the comings and goings of various individuals. Ginny did not stay in the living for long and found herself wandering through the house and into the backyard.

A large tent was erected just next to the garden, warm and full of smell of food. Just beyond the tent, a group of children were gathered around the frozen pond. One of the many redheads was attempting to ice skate across. Ginny only watched long enough to see the child slip and fall on the ice before she turned around and took the backdoor into the kitchen.

Mrs. Weasley was busy basting several turkeys and did not take any notice that Ginny had entered. It was apparent by the path made through the kitchen that this was the way people seemed to have traveled in order to get to the backyard, though most of the adults were now settled in the living room. Assuming that her missing presence would go unnoticed, Ginny slipped past the living room and climbed up the stairs to the silent floors above.

Opening random doors along the way, Ginny saw that much had changed since she had last been there. Most of the rooms were now furnished for guests instead of for her brothers and even the attic was organized which Ginny found amazing compared to the shape the rest of the house was in. Pictures of the Weasley family lined the walls; pictures of infants, toddlers, Hogwarts students, weddings, grandchildren, and everything that must have happened since the Weasley family came to live at the Burrow. Yet, everything felt very foreign to Ginny. Nothing was the same as was it was twelve years ago…unless…

Back on the first floor, just before the stairs, Ginny spotted the room that she intentionally skipped on her way through the house. She nervously shook the handle, but found that the room was locked. "Odd," she muttered, pulling out her wand. Why was this room the only room locked? "Alohomora."

The door clicked open and Ginny stepped inside. Her nostrils were instantly filled with dust and mold, causing her to gag as she lit her wand to view the room. There was no doubt to why it was locked. Unlike the others, this room still contained the frilly, pink bed, the posters of the Holyhead Harpies, pictures of the Weird Sisters, the desk in front of the window, pictures of her at Hogwarts, and even her school trunk that was sitting at the end of the bed. It was obvious that this room was hardly ever used by the amount of dust in the air and covering the furniture, though some places looked disturbed. There were creases in her bed as if someone had sat on it and the contents that used to be nicely organized in her desk were now strewn across the surface.

"Just like it was before," a voice said in the doorway.

Ginny didn't bother to turn around. "I can't believe everything is still here. Nothing has changed!"

"Your mother has been saving it," Hermione said slowly. "She has always hoped that you would come back one day."

"How can she? She thinks I'm dead!" Ginny exclaimed, glancing over at Hermione's form.

Hermione sighed in reply. "She might think that, but I really doubt that she believes it. Part of her must still have some hope if she's so determined to keep this room locked up."

Ginny didn't reply, but continued to stare through the window at the distant orchard. She did not move until a bell echoed through the house to announce that dinner was ready. Silently, Ginny followed Hermione back through the house, shutting the door to the room behind her.

Inside the tent, two long tables were covered with food. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley stood at the far end of the right table where their places were set and everyone took seats down the table from them. Ginny found herself across from Hermione, Ron, and Harry, though between an older woman with graying hair who was scolding her green-haired grandson and a warlock that Ginny recognized from the ministry.

"It's Christmas, Teddy," the older woman was saying, "can't you do something nice with your hair?" The boy, who looked no older than seventeen, just rolled his eyes and offered his grandmother a roll.

Just as Ginny was spooning mashed potatoes onto her plate, she spotted her daughter walk into the tent surrounded by a crowd of other children. Holly spotted her mother at the table and darted for her. "I thought you were going home!" Holly exclaimed.

"I was, but I was convinced to stay," Ginny responded. She looked at her daughter's shocked face and noticed her eye was bruising and blood was dripping from her bottom lip. "What happened to you?"

Holly looked slightly embarrassed. "I fell," she stated.

"A fall caused that much damage?" Ginny asked skeptically.

"I…er…fell on the ice," Holly said uneasily.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. "Is there more to the story that you are not telling me?"

"Er…yes," the red-head confessed.

Waving her hand at her daughter, she turned back towards the table. "Alright, then, tell me when we get home. I suppose I don't want to know right now."

Holly gratefully left her mother and took a seat at other end of the second table with a few of her friends. Ginny didn't bother to look back at her daughter. As long as she was having a good time, there was no need to make a fuss. For a long time, the clicking of utensils and low chattering was the only sound in the tent. Ginny savored each bite of her food and did not pay attention to the conversations around her. She couldn't remember the last time she had tasted food this good.

Darkness covered the world outside of the tent and people were beginning to finish their dinner. With full tummies and empty plates, the chatter began to rise in the tent and firewhiskey was passed around among the adults. Ginny only had a small taste while other adults were filling their goblets full. Much to everyone's surprise, Hermione was among these individuals.

"You know, Ron, we have much to be thankful for," the bushy-haired woman said to her husband, her cheeks slightly red. "We have a good house, a good family, careers, and everything."

Ron raised his glass to Hermione's statement and added a "Here, here."

"I'm thankful that my wife has such wonderful cooking skills," Mr. Weasley said to the crowd, receiving a kiss from Mrs. Weasley for the compliment.

"I'm thankful that we are all still here to enjoy this holiday together," another adult added which was answered by clapping. Many other individuals spoke, thanking other individuals for good deeds they have done, their families, socks, and one individual even gave thanks for Mr. Weasley getting him out of trouble with the law.

Just as one individual was thanking his wife for not having to spend Christmas with his in-laws, Hermione stood up and raised her glass which was once again full of firewhiskey. "You know what else I'm thankful for?" she said to the crowd. "That this young lady could join us today." Her finger pointed straight at Ginny who looked alarmed.

"I don't know what you mean," Ginny said quickly.

"Of course you do, Jenny. Or I mean, Ginny. You know those names sound so much alike," Hermione told her.

The room suddenly became quiet. Everyone was staring between Ginny and Hermione, the blonde woman looking incredulous while Hermione just glared. Mrs. Weasley, who could sense the tension in the crowd, quickly ran to Hermione. "Hermione, dear, perhaps you've had too much to drink," the older woman said, taking the goblet out of her hands and setting it on the table.

"I haven't had too much to drink," Hermione slurred, pulling out her wand. "Look? See?" With a short wave, before Ginny knew what was happening, a gold beam of light hit Ginny squarely in the chest. An odd tingling starting with the top of her head traveled down her body. She didn't need a mirror to know what was happening as the gasps around her told her exactly what Hermione had done. The secret was out.

Ginny stood up, not knowing what she was going to do, but feeling a sudden desire to run. She wanted to get away before she was forced to look at the expression on her family's faces. She couldn't look at her brothers as they lunged forward to rescue their mother who had fainted or her stunned father at the head of the table who was still holding his glass up. She followed her instinct and ran halfway down the drive before she heard loud footsteps calling her name. A hand grabbed her robes, pulling her around. It was Ron.

"GINNY?" he cried. "You're supposed to be dead!"

"Let me go!" Ginny shouted, grabbing Ron's hand and pulling at it.

"YOU LIED TO US!" Ron bellowed.

Ginny punched her brother in the stomach. "Let me go," she said dangerously. Ron released her, though Ginny did not go anywhere. A crowd was quickly coming their way, but she did not want to fight. She wanted to get out of here. She knew she shouldn't have agreed to stay. "I'm sorry, I really am," she told Ron. "I had to do it, though."

"What did you do?" Ron whispered.

"Ask your wife," Ginny said bitterly. "She seems to know everything, doesn't she?"

The crowd of people was moving closer. Pulling out her wand, Ginny spun on the spot and the scene before her disappeared in a small crack. Her body was compressed into the cold air around her until it opened up into a warm room. She was back at her flat, yet she realized that this was no longer a safe place for her. Her hiding spots were slowly unraveling and yet she was bound here. Both Hermione and Harry would be able to tell where she was and even her daughter was still at the Burrow. Ginny stood frozen in the middle of the living room. Fear and panic still pounded through her head and heart, but another voice was breaking into the chaos.

"Stay where you are," the voice said. The voice was so confident and comforting that Ginny obeyed it. It brought relief, yet some unusual assurance that she would be alright. She collapsed onto the couch, not wanting to relive the event that just occurred, yet finding herself unable to think of anything else. The look on Ron's face will forever be engrained in her memory.