It had been months since Ginny had been home to visit her parents; she had been so busy with getting the Leaky Cauldron working properly, she just hadn't had time. So it was with bemusement that she walked down from the main road watching Ron digging in the garden with her mother.

Leaning on the garden fence, Ginny smiled at her mother, who looked up as Ginny's shadow fell on the soil in front of her.

"Ginny, dear!" Molly got to her feet, brushed her knees off and pulled her gloves off, and rushed to hug her daughter. "You look great," she added, as she pulled back from her daughter to inspect her face. "But a little pale. We should get you in the garden more!" Molly included Ron in her words, looking over her shoulder. Ron was standing now as well, and he wandered over as Molly let Ginny go with a goofy grin on his face.

"Nah," Ron replied to his mother. "She couldn't tell the weeds from the plants; we'd be here all week after she'd gone planting everything again."

Ginny smiled at her brother. He seemed well, his skin slightly reddened on his nose but tanned on his arms and shoulders that were left bare by his singlet. She gave him a hug, then pulled back, wrinkling her nose. "Ugh, Ron, really – there's a shower inside; you should use it sometimes." She ruined her insult by smiling, and he grinned back.

"I suppose we should go inside and have some lunch. Come along kids," Molly smiled, adjusted her hat and picked up her basket then turned and led the way back to the house.

Ron hung back a little, and Ginny waited to walk in with him.

"Have… Have you seen Hermione?" He wouldn't meet her eyes, instead looking over the garden bed that he had been working in.

Ginny paused. "Yes, I have."

"And she's told you that… That she left me?"

"Yes."

"Did she tell you why?" He still wasn't displaying his usual temper, and Ginny wondered why.

"She did tell me a couple of things. That you've been drinking. That you weren't communicating with each other. That she blames herself. That she's moving on with her life."

Ron's shoulders fell, and if Ginny could have seen she supposed his face fell as well. "Gods, I've been such an idiot." He looked over at his sister. "I just… I don't even know why I'm trying to justify this to you. I know that I've hurt her so bad she'll never come back. She's all I've wanted for so long, I thought that I could handle anything, just to be with her. But… It's so different, living muggle. It seems like everything's harder. Even our relationship was harder. And the drinking… Things were easier when I drank. I didn't have to face anything."

"Mum won't let you drink in the house?"

"Or out of it, if I'm living here. It's about a million times worse. To know that there's an escape, and not be able to use it…" Ron rubbed a hand through his hair, and if the moment had been lighter Ginny would have laughed at the rain of dust that he caused.

As it was, she leaned closer to her brother and put her arm around his shoulder. "Do you think she'll ever forgive me?" Ron asked, leaning his head on Ginny's.

"I think she will, but I don't think she'll ever be your wife again."

She felt him nod, and knew that he couldn't trust his voice. After a moment, he asked, "Do you think she'll ever be my friend again?"

"Maybe," Ginny replied, and hugged her brother tighter.

Ginny's afternoon at the Burrow reminded her how much she loved her childhood home. Her father came down for lunch, and she succeeded – after fifteen minutes of trying – in making him smile, which lessened the deep lines that had etched themselves into his cheeks and forehead. Her mother insisted in feeding them all huge salad sandwiches – despite Ginny's protestations that she'd grow fat – and glasses of homemade lemonade. They chattered away, and Ginny enjoyed telling her family how she was managing the Leaky Cauldron.

When lunch finished and her father went back upstairs, Ginny volunteered to do dishes with her mother. Ron jumped at the chance to be rid of the chore and left quickly with a grin on his face, indicating that Ginny had no chance to change her mind now. Ginny just collected up the dishes calmly whilst her mother ran the water.

"I'm glad you came home, Ginny. Ron's been moping around the house, and your father… Well, it's good to have a happy face around here." Molly rinsed a plate and set it on the rack.

"It does seem like everything's been going bad. I'm sure things will pick up soon, though. I mean, look how my luck's changed. From barely surviving at the Leaky Cauldron as a waitress, now it's one of the most popular establishments in the Diagon Alley area."

Molly cleaned dishes for long moments in silence. "Darling, you're still young. Events have helped you to keep an optimistic outlook. I've been digging in the dirt to be able to eat for years, now. I'm… I think I'll be digging in the dirt for the rest of my life." Her shoulders slumped as she put the cleaned porridge pot on the rack, and Ginny felt her heart ache for her mother. She pulled the earring box out of her pocket.

"Mum, I've been… trying some spells, some charms that will help your luck. I know that it's not much, and it's not assured or anything, but if you wear these earrings… it might help a bit."

Molly looked at the earrings – gold covered, like the others. "Darling, I could sell these…"

"Mum, please, just wear them for a while. They'll make you feel a bit special if nothing more. They're a present." Ginny gave the earrings to her mother.

Molly looked at the gold spheres. "Gin, I… Ok, I'll wear them. Here, help me put them in."

The earrings looked good on Molly's tanned earlobes, and the mirror told her so. She shushed it, then gave Ginny a small grin. "It does feel nice to be spoiled a little. But don't think this gets you out of helping to prepare dinner!"

Ginny grinned back at her mother and flourished the paring knife. "Where are the potatoes?"