A/N: I forgot the author's note last time, but thank you to everyone for the reviews and feedback. Extra thanks to the wonderful people on the Discord.
This chapter jumps back a bit, to the end of Chapter 1 but will end shortly before the next chapter, if that makes sense. It's also a bit short, but here's a little context for Ginny.
Neville followed her obediently out of the kitchen. Ginny didn't mean to be rude or dismissive by not offering him much in the way of explanations- there was just too much to say and not enough privacy to say it yet. He was a true friend, however, and didn't seem to hold it against her.
She had never been to Longbottom Manor before she showed up unexpectedly and said she needed a friend, yet he had simply agreed without further questioning. He had asked just once if she was alright, but hadn't pushed when she had said, "Not here," and thrust the piece of paper stating "The Headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix is located at 12 Grimmauld Place" written in Albus Dumbledore's hand toward him. With a quick farewell to his grandmother and a promise to return shortly, he had followed and stood by her side since.
Even now, as Ginny cast an imperturbable charm at the closed kitchen door and made a point to step on the two flesh-colored strings on the floor that she knew to be Fred and George's extendable ears, all he did was raise an eyebrow at the underage magic. She had never been so grateful for his friendship.
She led him past the second floor, using a locking charm on the door that led to the room she and Hermione shared as she passed, before she led him to the study attached to the Master bedroom. She was fond of this particular room as it was rarely used by anyone besides herself, contained a grand piano she enjoyed playing and was one of the few private places in the house presentable enough that her mother hadn't forbidden her from entering. She closed the door behind him and cast another imperturbable charm.
If it had been any other occasion, she may have worried what her mother would say about her being behind a closed door with a boy. Given her current circumstances, that was laughable now. She didn't feel like laughing though.
Instead, she felt exhausted and dropped down on the piano bench, hiding her face behind her hands. Neville sat in a chair across the room.
After a moment, she looked up and met his eyes. "Thank you," she said simply. "Just… thank you."
He gave her something resembling a smile and replied, "Anytime, Ginny. You know that." After a bit of silence, he asked, "Now that we seem to have gotten where we were going, mind filling me in a bit? I'm happy to just sit with you, but I got the impression there may be something you want to talk about?" He raised his voice at the end and the teasing note there thawed some of Ginny's anxiety.
She blew out a breath and smiled slightly. "Yeah… yeah."
The words refused to come, however. She wasn't quite sure where to start.
"How about I go first? I've already gathered that this house belonged to Sirius Black, but that he left it to you and that it's under Fidelius as the headquarters for the Order of the Phoenix." She nodded and raised a brow in question. "I actually know about the Order, or at least what it used to be. My parents were members before they… well, before." He shook his head, dispelling the bad thoughts that had accumulated there. "So, why don't you tell me what's happened with Harry?"
Deciding to just go for it, she said, "We've been betrothed."
"Alright," he replied, but his face held confusion. "Clearly you two weren't consulted or this wouldn't be such a big deal, and I'm a little surprised your parents would do something like that, but you're not even fifteen yet. You don't even have to begin worrying about having to get married for years. Maybe by then, things will change or you'll find a way to dissolve it. I've seen it happen time and time again with the pureblood families."
She had let him continue talking as if he had the full context simply because she didn't want to have to admit the truth. Saying it out loud would make it more real, and she definitely didn't want it to be real. Yet, she had to. He couldn't begin to understand why she was losing it if he didn't know what had happened.
She started composed, attempting to hold back the panic, but slowly she broke as she related the truth. "They used one of those really old, unbreakable, blood rituals to do it. We're magically bound, irrevocably. And I just... Don't even know what to do with that information. It's complete insanity. I cannot believe that my parents, that Sirius, did this without so much as a warning. And yet," she held up her hand to reveal the crumpled parchment that was the letter Sirius had left her in explanation, "I know why, but it doesn't change how it's- it's just unfair. I- I needed someone to talk to, and I just… couldn't do it with them. You obviously know what I mean though, because you explained it perfectly." She had been rambling at increasing speed, unable to contain her borderline hysteria, until her breath finally ran out and she was forced to take a break. With renewed oxygen and slightly calmer, she asked, "Was I too hard on them? I didn't mean to…" she trailed off helplessly.
"No," Neville said slowly, thoughtfully. "Clearly, it's a lot. I think everyone works through something like this in different ways. I'm not sure if you noticed, but Harry hardly said a word at all, except when he answered you. I think… I think whatever happens today, everyone will understand in the end. This isn't exactly a normal situation." He looked around for a moment, his gaze distant as he mulled over the scant information she gave him. "Can you explain a little bit about why? You said Sirius explained it, but I just can't see anyone risking a blood rite betrothal without having some strong reasoning. I mean, I get Sirius being willing to risk it all to protect Harry, given how often bad things happen to him, and him choosing you. I'm not sure I understand what your parents were thinking though. That kind of thing is borderline Dark and really risky- not the kind of thing the Weasleys would normally be associated with."
"According to Sirius, things could get bad… my family is well known for our association with Harry and for being blood traitors. We'll all be targets, but they were worried the Death Eaters may come after me. Because I'm - well I'm a young pure-blood witch from a… generative family." She met his eyes, pleading with him to simply understand without making her say it aloud. The thought still made her skin crawl.
She was lucky that he did understand quickly. It only took a moment before understanding dawned and his face twisted, mirroring her disgust. "Still, there must have been other ways. If they were willing to step into the land of questionable blood rituals, there are chastity rituals-" shocked, she tried to sputter something, but he cut her off, "-hey, it may be unpleasant, but you would have been safe from… that at least. Attaching you to Harry in that way, well, it puts a spotlight directly on you, doesn't it? Seems extreme."
Ginny adored Neville, honestly. He didn't laugh at her, or judge her, or even ask her for more information that she was comfortable giving. He was the friend she was most honest with - admittedly that wasn't as indicative of her honesty as one would think, given how much she chose to keep to herself - but she hadn't told him anything about the Chamber that he didn't already know and she had told him nothing of Tom Riddle. Not wanting to get into that right now, she chose her words carefully.
"There are things I don't tell people - about my past - that Sirius knew." He looked surprised, so she explained a bit. "I didn't exactly decide to confide in him," she clarified. "Remember during your fourth year how I would go for walks looking for that stray dog I told you about?" He nodded. She scrunched up her nose, feeling a mixture of exasperation and embarrassment. "Well, he wasn't so much a stray as he was Sirius in his animagus form, and I may have been rather transparent with him before I was aware of that fact."
Neville's face showed disbelief for a moment, before melting into amusement. "Really? You spent your second year taking care of and talking to a fugitive in disguise? One who happens to be innocent and Harry's godfather, no less?" He shook his head in disbelief and laughed.
So much for not laughing at me, she thought. Ginny pursed her lips and tried to show her annoyance, but she had found the truth funny as well once her nerves had faded after that initial meeting; her face broke into an involuntary smile and she chuckled. "I know," she said, "Only me, right?"
The levity only lasted a moment before the laughter drained from his face and his expression turned questioning again. Ginny sighed and continued, "I told him things, things that I hadn't told anyone, that led him to believe I may be on T- You-Know-Who's personal list already." She shrugged off-handedly, trying not to think about the reasons why. "I guess they just figured if the target was already on both of us, it was better if we were protected and together than facing him separately."
She looked down and used her left thumb nail to clean under the nails of her right fingers before switching hands and repeating the process. She knew it was nasty habit, but she had developed it after the Chamber when the blood, grime, and ink had stained the skin there; no matter how many times she washed her hands, the stubborn darkness refused to leave until she had gouged them bloody. Even after they had been cleaned to the point of shining, there were times she swore she could still feel the filthy mixture under her nails, the same way she swore the stench of the Chamber still lingered in her hair. She couldn't begin to count how often she had washed both the summer following her first year. Occasionally, she still felt the compulsion when particularly stressed.
Moments like now, she thought, still avoiding looking at Neville and silently begging him not to ask any more questions. Today was too much already. She missed Sirius, she hadn't slept properly in days, and the only time she had eaten today was for show when everyone was watching. She spent so much effort putting on a front of composure, but the despair was there, ever-present just below the surface. Returning to this place had only compounded it, and there was a moment when they had first arrived that she thought it may have broken through; if telling off Kreacher hadn't provided an outlet for some of her desperation, she was sure she would have cracked.
She hadn't realized she'd become lost in her thoughts until she registered the silence and became aware of the weight of Neville's gaze. Finally, she braved looking up and meeting his eyes.
Neville, bless him, wasn't looking at her in a way that was searching for answers. His gaze only held sympathy and compassion. Softly, he said, "I'm sorry for your loss, Ginny. Clearly, he must have cared a lot for you and I can tell you miss him."
Her eyes burned and her throat tightened uncomfortably until it hurt to breathe. She didn't attempt to talk, just nodded and fought against the onslaught of emotion his words had brought. No one had said those words to her. She really wouldn't have expected them to, seeing as no one was quite aware of just how close she and Sirius had been, but the outside confirmation of their relationship affected her more than she could say.
He stood then, grimacing, and said, "I know it's a bad time and I'm sorry, but I have to get going if I want Gran to let me come back. Can I come by tomorrow and we can talk some more?"
Making sure her mask was in place, she gave him a smile and agreed. He eyed her skeptically for a moment, and though she was certain her features gave nothing away, she could tell he wasn't fooled. When he offered her a hug, she didn't hesitate to take it.
After a moment spent toning down her reaction, she said in a thick voice, "Thank you." She felt him nod against her head before he released her and left, insisting he could find his way back to the kitchen on his own.
For a moment, Ginny just sat at the piano where she and Sirius used to play together, her hands idly stroking the keys as she stared into space and tried to hold it together. Being in Grimmauld Place was torture, she realized. Even though Sirius had hated his family home with a passion, it had been the only place she had ever known him as himself. Before meeting him here, he had been Snuffles to her. Her overwhelmed mind conjured up the memory. The fact that her brain thought memories of those difficult months following the Chamber incident were somehow preferable to her current predicament showed just how despondent she was feeling.
Ginny had taken to walking the grounds alone. It was cold out and likely quite foolish being so far from the castle, alone at that, with the dementors patrolling the perimeter of the grounds, but she needed to get away. She needed time to think.
Her second year at Hogwarts hadn't started off as badly as her first, but it wasn't great either.
While she had tentatively rekindled her friendship with Colin, she still felt guilty for what had happened to him last year and it often left her feeling uncomfortable in his presence. Merlin, he could have died if he hadn't been using his camera.
The girls in her dorm, who had been condescending of her second-hand things and general poorness to begin with, were now weary around her to boot, so she avoided them as much as they avoided her. While no one knew that it was Ginny that had opened the Chamber of Secrets, her odd behavior the previous year and the fact that she had been taken into the chamber itself seemed to make people suspicious of her.
Her brothers… well, her brothers were trying. They made sure to check in with her frequently, but they weren't friends. She didn't feel like one of them anymore. They were more or less her parole officers. They checked in on her- making sure she was back to the common room by curfew, ensuring she was at every mealtime, monitoring that she was indeed eating at said mealtimes- all to her intense annoyance. Where were they last year when she was actually missing for large periods of time?
Ginny sighed and tried to shake the bitterness. It was over and done with now. Plus, after hearing Tom's voice in her head on the train during her run-in with the dementors, she was desperately trying to avoid thinking about that time.
Last year she had been weak. She had been insecure and subsequently foolish. This year would be better. Even if not all of her behavior was completely honest, she would try. She had been doing a decent enough job of it so far. She laughed and smiled at the appropriate times, she helped the twins with their pranks, and she stood up for herself when slighted. The last part was particularly easy. Funneling sadness into anger made things easier. She wasn't going to cry anymore (at least not during the day, not when she had control over it.) She wasn't going to be the stupid, blushing little girl who had a crush on the boy-who-lived. With the exception of the first time she had seen him, she had been doing fairly well on that point.
It was easier than she had thought to change her behavior around Harry. Truthfully, she hadn't blushed at him, rather at the girl who she had been a year prior, the one who blushed every time she saw the boy she thought of as a hero. The past year had changed both her and the way she viewed him. He wasn't the hero from the stories she had heard growing up. She had seen him in the chamber - young, small, and easily as frightened as she had been. Of course, he had played the role of hero to her damsel in distress despite the fact that he wasn't all that different from her. After seeing him like that, Ginny realized that for the most part, Harry was just Harry.
He could be caring and funny, but could just as easily be a stupid, insensitive prat who was no different than any of her brothers had been at his age. Ruminating on Ron's quick dismissal after they boarded the Hogwarts Express in September, she wondered why she had thought for even a moment that Harry may have considered defending her. Ginny wasn't Ginny to him; he had come to her rescue last term not because she was in danger, but because there was a danger that needed to be defeated. Harry couldn't seem to prevent himself from helping those in need.
That was okay though. Ginny didn't need Harry to be the hero. Specifically, she didn't need or want Harry- or anyone else for that matter- to be her hero. She never again wanted to be the damsel in distress. This year she fully intended to work harder and longer than ever, until she was certain she could take care of herself. Nothing was going to hold her back. She would never make the mistake of relying on anyone again the way she had relied on Tom last year - or that was what she had planned until the dementors had brought the memories of Tom roaring back.
Once she had reached a corner of the lake out of view of the castle, she leaned over and looked at her reflection in the glassy water. She could see her red hair hanging limply, but with the slightest shine. She could see her brown eyes, but they were truthfully emotionless. Her skin was pale and dotted with freckles, perhaps just a shade paler than it should be. What she couldn't see was what she truly looked like: the deep purple that stained the bags under her eyes, the wan color her skin had become, the whiteness of her lips; these particular features were conveniently disguised by the glamour potions Fred and George had invented for her over the summer.
Despite how messed up everything still was, Ginny smiled to herself as she considered her family. She had been terrified when she first woke up in the Chamber that they would want nothing to do with her, but they had all loved her and done their best to help. In so many different ways, her family had proven to her this summer what an extraordinary gift being a member of the Weasley family was.
When she woke up screaming each night after being haunted by memories of Tom and the Chamber, she woke to the comforting presence of her family surrounding her, offering their support by simply being there.
When her dad won the Ministry galleon drawing, they had spent the money on a trip to Egypt instead of something practical, because they knew how much Ginny had been suffering and how much she missed her eldest brother Bill.
When Bill had found her crying after she had overheard her parents discussing sending her to Beauxbatons instead of Hogwarts if she didn't start to improve, he had taken her upstairs and taught her a silencing charm powerful enough to encapsulate her bed for the entire night. He knew without being told how much she wanted to return to Hogwarts and that the nightmares had been her parents' biggest concern.
When her nightmares changed and she started remembering the things Tom had originally made her forget and could no longer sleep, Fred had been there for her. He had found her one night sitting atop her bed with her knees drawn to her chest, exhausted but struggling to stay awake for fear of falling asleep and finding what else Tom had left dormant in her mind. He had realized that the nightmares hadn't stopped- that she had been hiding them instead- and told her she was welcome to sneak into his bed whenever she liked. He had never once complained or demanded an explanation when she had done so. He simply hugged her and told her that he and George would look after her while she slept.
When she and the twins had overheard her mother commenting on Ginny's exhausted appearance and asking their father if he thought they should send her to St. Mungo's for some sort of treatment, George took one look at her panicked face, grabbed her hand and promised they'd find a way to avoid it. Two days later, Fred and George had presented her with a glamour potion of their own invention that was so subtle it was undetectable by magical means. It was perfect; it had just enough potency to make Ginny look like she was getting better, but not as if she had suddenly rebounded.
Even Percy and Ron had found a surprisingly effective way to help her, largely thanks to their favorite muggleborn witches. After being revived by the mandrake draught, Penelope and Hermione had an in-depth discussion on the psychological ramifications of having been petrified, particularly post-traumatic stress disorder. Hermione had even given him a book about it, and Percy had recognized the symptoms in Ginny over the summer. When she refused to talk to mind-healer and all other magical forms of intervention, he researched muggle methods. He had privately presented his findings to the family, suggesting music may provide a creative outlet. She already knew how to play the piano thanks to her time spent at Aunt Muriel's and they thought perhaps she could write her own music.
Ron had agreed with the family that Ginny needed to do something to express what she was going through, but he had his reservations about presenting her with something resembling a diary and vetoed their idea for a songbook. He and Ginny had been so close once that he knew she wouldn't be able to bring herself to trust writing her words down. He had written to Hermione, who suggested perhaps Ginny could learn to play guitar. All of her brothers had pooled their resources to buy her a muggle guitar for her birthday. Her father had charmed it to shrink and expand with the tap of her wand. It now hung like a charm from the bracelet her parents had given her on her birthday. Learning to play and having that private creative outlet- for she only played when she was certain she was alone- had been a great help. With the exception of when Harry had rescued her, she had never felt so grateful in her life.
While she was grateful for all that her family had done, it had still been a difficult summer. She wasn't better, not really. She was still hardly sleeping and she was deeply exhausted. She wasn't eating much better either; the little food she managed to force down at meals was for appearance's sake. For the first time in her life, she was grateful that so many of her clothes had been her brother's hand-me-downs; between the shapelessness of their old clothing and her beginning curves, her shape appeared far less thin that it actually was.
Ginny looked away from her reflection and took in her surroundings. She was surprised to find that she wasn't exactly alone. A dozen or so feet away, slightly tucked away in some nearby shrubs, Ginny could make out the shape of a large but thin black dog. Honestly, if he weren't so straggly looking, he could have passed for a grim. She couldn't help letting out a chuckle at the thought of how Ron would have reacted to seeing him. He would freak! As it was, however, Ginny couldn't bring herself to feel threatened as she took in his general air of neglect and the sadness in his eyes.
Instead of shrieking or panicking, Ginny smiled at the poor guy. Softly, so as not to startle him, she said, "Hello, are you okay? You can come out." After a moment in which he didn't respond, she further cajoled, "I won't hurt you. I promise."
The dog made no move to join her, but stared intently as if appraising her. In other circumstances, Ginny probably would have been disheartened that even a dog didn't seem to want to be her friend. Looking at his broken appearance however, she couldn't blame him. Upon closer scrutiny, he appeared to be shaking and there was a strange quality to his breathing. Thinking of the lunch in her bag that she had taken with her for the sole purpose of getting Percy to leave her alone, she pulled it out and offered it to the dog.
"Here," she said gently, "How about a show of good faith? Come on, take it. I wasn't planning on eating it anyway. You look like you could use it." Moving slowly, she reached forward and pushed it in his direction.
Tentatively, he- for Ginny assumed by the dog's large frame that it must be male- came forward and sniffed cautiously. He shifted his gaze to give her a look that Ginny could only describe as suspicious, before the effect was ruined when he let out a cross between a cough and a sniffle. She felt terrible for doing it, but she suddenly couldn't hold it in anymore and laughed out loud. He gave a startled yelp before backing away.
"I'm sorry, Snuffles!" Ginny breathed out through her giggles. "But, this is absurd! You've certainly seen better days, but we're practically the same size. I'm not about to hurt you. You're looking at the food as if I've poisoned it when you're the one who snuck up on me." She let out another, borderline hysterical, laugh, before continuing, "And now I'm talking to you as if you have a clue what I'm saying!"
To her great surprise, her outburst didn't frighten the poor guy. Instead, he let out a short bark and huffed, almost as if he was laughing himself, and wagged his tail weakly before trotting over and helping himself to the food she had laid out. When he had finished, he very slowly approached her and quickly licked her cheek before retreating.
Even his lick had been cold and, now that he was closer, Ginny could tell that he was definitely sick. "Wait!" she exclaimed. She was surprised when he froze in his tracks and tilted his head at her, as if in question. She removed her cloak and slowly draped it over him before backing away. "I'm sorry that's the best I can do right now. I wish I could take you up to the castle with me, but they only allow cats, owls, or toads."
She looked toward the castle and chewed the inside of her cheek wondering if it were possible to sneak him in. Her attention was brought back to the dog, whom she decided to permanently name Snuffles, when he nudged her with his nose and curled up on the ground beside her. She smiled and snuggled into his side, willing to set the matter aside for now as Snuffles seemed content for the moment.
Snuffles closed his eyes as Ginny began to pet him. She had intended to come out here and play guitar, but somehow she had found something better. Looking over at him and smiling to herself, she thought, Maybe there is something to the therapy animals I read about in Hermione's book. Snuffles may have just been a dog to anyone else, but it left her feeling better than she had in a long time knowing that she'd done something to help a lonely, suffering creature.
She smiled remembering that feeling of accomplishment and the following friendship she formed with Snuffles. Having him to talk to, to confide in, to protect and be protected by had made such a difference in her recovery. Maybe my brain knows what it's doing, she thought in amusement. The memory reminded her that while things had been bad then, seemingly impossibly difficult at times, they had gotten better. She needed to remember that now.
Even when she nearly had a panic attack as she first realized that Snuffles was actually Sirius Black and that the man they would be living with knew all her deepest, darkest secrets, it had turned out for the best. It had been exactly a year ago, in fact, that she met him as he truly was and their mutual friendship bloomed. But Sirius made the difference before, the traitorous, defeatist part of her that had been what allowed Tom to grip her so readily whispered, and he's not here now.
She quickly fled the study and headed toward the room that had belonged to Sirius. It was where she felt most comfortable. She would have brought Neville there, but something about it seemed private, and she hadn't been willing to share it with him. Now that she was alone, however, there was nothing holding her back.
Earlier, after she had first come to realize what her parents had done, Ginny exited the kitchen feeling shaky and doing her best to hold onto her regained composure. In her shock, she had already shown those in the kitchen more true emotion than she was generally comfortable with; she was not about to let those waiting outside it see any of them. There was no need for that kind of facade now with everyone still on the lower levels of the house, however, and she shamelessly fled up the stairs to the fourth floor in search of comfort.
She breathed a sigh of relief when she finally arrived. Sirius was gone, but she could still feel his presence in his room. The gold and crimson color scheme reminded her of the Gryffindor common room, while the muggle photos of scantily-clad women just plain reminded her of him, and contrasted the oppressive feeling of the threatening green and serpent theme that decorated the interior of the rest of the house. His room stood out against the rest of the house the same way that he had stood out against his family name; he was a rebel and a joy. He had been trustworthy and comforting. She missed him.
He was her closest friend really, the only person she was always and without fail honest with, and she had a feeling she had been the same for him. When she first came up here earlier, she hadn't come to seek comfort as she did now; she had gone because she knew from their discussions what no one else would have known: where to look for anything he may have left behind for them.
The fourth book from the right on the second shelf from the bottom, titled Understanding Muggle Turns of Phrase, was not what it appeared to be. Instead of a ridiculously large, but otherwise unremarkable, brown book about the various Muggle idioms that the standard witch or wizard lacked the background information to comprehend, it was actually a magical lock-box which could only be opened with a key that had been spelled by the creator. He had warned her that anyone who attempted to tamper with it without a key would not like the consequences. Knowing him as she did, she was grateful that she would never have to find out what those consequences were, as he had given her a key of her own. It was in the form of a charm for her bracelet shaped like a quaffle that he had given her for Christmas. She tried hard not to acknowledge that he had probably done it in preparation for a situation just like this.
It was in this box that she had found the note he had left for her with the paper containing the location of Grimmauld Place in it, as well as the note he left Harry and a copy of his will. Her thoughts caught on Harry briefly -that was a mess she hadn't begun to untangle, even to herself, except in the broadest terms - and she shrunk away from it yet again, taking stock of what she had found again instead.
The vial full of their blood that had been in box was now sitting on the desk drawing her attention; it was now harmless, but it had previously contained the magic that had been used in the ritual to seal their fate. It was still sitting where Ginny had left it, looking innocuous enough that she felt it was mocking her.
Without a thought, she grabbed it off the desk, clenching it tightly in her fist. As she stared, it occurred to her that she may feel better if she could destroy the vial itself. It wouldn't undo the damage the ritual had done, but maybe she could imagine she was crushing the hopelessness she felt bearing down on her as the full implications slammed into her.