Aftermath.

It was a difficult time for Molly. The war had taken more out of her than she had expected. The wound left by the absence of Fred never seemed to want to scab over so Molly began to focus all her energy into trying to ensure the safety and eventual happiness of all her other children. George, well George was about as broken as she herself was and had stuffed himself in his own room, coming out only for meals, and was therefore about as safe as she could make him if not happy. Bill and Charlie were off about their own business again, and didn't seem to need her. Percy and Ron were holding up with help from some very supportive friends. But when she looked at her youngest child Molly could tell, even through her own grief, that something was not right, more not right than the scars left by the war.

She pulled herself together one day and followed Ginny out to the orchard. She saw her from a distance sitting with her head leaning lethargically against a tree trunk watching Ron and Harry playing quidditch. The look on her face didn't look like the grief she wore when she was thinking about Fred and Molly had a pretty shrewd idea what it was about.

'Ginny,' she began as she sat down with her. 'Ginny. How are you?'

Ginny turned to her mother, and gave her a wan smile. 'I feel OK, Mum.' The weary, yet knowing, look Molly gave her caused Ginny to blush, and add, 'I just ... I don't know. I feel so blah and I don't know why.' He eyes drifted over to where Harry and Ron were playing again and she sighed.

'What happened with Harry?' It was one of the many questions that had bubbled in Molly's brain as she watched her daughter's life after the war was over.

'Nothing,' Ginny sighed, turning her sad eyes on Molly again. 'It just didn't work out when it was all over. You were right, Mum. I was fifteen and deluding myself that it was going anywhere.'

'I saw the way he looked at you the day of the battle. I assumed you would get back together by now.'

'I did too,' Ginny said in a resigned voice. 'But he really doesn't want anything. He backs away from me and spends all his time with Ron and Hermione. I guess ... I guess he really meant it when he broke up with me and I was too silly to get it.'

Molly cringed at her tone. She lapsed into silence and when Hermione came outside and sat down with Ginny, Molly left them to it. She didn't stop thinking about her daughter and her dilemma, however. Over the next few days Molly made sure to pay attention to what Harry was doing and she came to the conclusion that he was as unhappy about the way things stood as Ginny was. What had happened between them was as foreign to him as it was to her. The way his eyes followed Ginny when she wasn't watching gave Molly hope, but she knew the two of them needed to talk, and the only way to make that happen seemed to be having one of 'those' talks with Ginny.

So, when she and Ginny were alone in the house one day, Molly slipped up to her bedroom. She knocked and, hearing a muffled 'come in,' went inside. It was obvious that her daughter had been crying, but the face that looked into hers held a note of belligerence as if daring her to say anything about it. Molly ignored Ginny's tough guy stance and sat down next to her.

'I think we need to talk, dear.'

Ginny huffed her cheeks out and turned her face away from her mother. 'If it's the Harry thing again, I don't want to talk.'

Molly sighed, but carried on anyway. 'I've been watching both of you, and neither of you seems happy.'

Ginny let out a disbelieving sound. 'Well, Mum. This thing called a war stole my brother away – did you expect I would be happy?' As her mother's face dropped at the barb, Ginny blushed. 'I'm sorry,' she said in a contrite voice. 'I didn't mean ...'

'I know,' Molly said, schooling her face again, 'and I know F-Fred has left a huge hole for you, too. But ... this is different than that. Of course we all feel that one, but you have another layer, a different layer – and so does Harry. Now, I want you to tell me why you think he's pushing you away.'

'I don't know. It was like ... I couldn't talk to him right away with ... with Fred and everything, and when I went to him later he said 'what is there to talk about?' and just left me.' The tears which had glistened on Ginny's cheeks when Molly entered the room threatened to spill over again.

Molly's brow creased as she tried to reconcile this idea with what she had seen of Harry's actions. A thought struck her. 'What did you say to him when you felt you couldn't talk right away?'

Ginny thought about it. 'I don't really remember. I was in a bad way what with Fred, and ... and seeing Harry dead like that. I think I said I couldn't cope with anything else and I needed time alone.' Her mouth dropped open in horror as she realised what that might have sounded like to Harry. 'Merlin, he thinks I told him I didn't want to be with him.'

'I think that's exactly what he thought you said.'

The light that had stolen over Ginny when she realised the problem, dimmed. 'But then why did he turn away when I tried to talk to him? I've tried over and over again and he always makes some excuse and goes away with Ron or Hermione.'

'I think he's hurting, love, and hurt people don't act rationally.' Molly patted Ginny's leg reassuringly, but Ginny remained unconvinced. 'If I try again he's just going to do the same thing – cut and run. It feels like he's moved on.'

Her mother looked at her carefully, and said, 'I think you need to keep at it. At the moment you've given up. I haven't seen you initiate one conversation with him in the past five days. If you want this, then you have to fight for it.'

'But what if he rejects me again? I feel like I did all those years ago when I didn't want to ... to ... put myself out there with Harry -- that it will hurt too much if he rejects me again.'

'Do you remember what I told you that time, Ginny?' Molly's voice was understanding, but insistent.

'You said that Harry was interested and I needed to get over myself and look at my feelings again – that I should take a chance.'

'I'm saying the same thing again. I know it's scary when he's distant like this, but I think now you know why and you have been distant with him too. It's up to you to put things right.'

Letting out the breath she had unconsciously been holding, Ginny steeled her shoulders. 'What the hell. It can't really hurt much more than it does now. Thanks, Mum. I guess after last time I should listen to you – after all you were right that time and maybe the same spell can hit twice.'

Ginny's smile was almost the mischievous one Molly remembered from before the war, and she gave her mother a hug. Molly squeezed back and left the room, feeling happier than she had in many a long week.

What Ginny didn't know was that Molly cornered Harry as soon as he got back home and had a similar talk with him. She left him in a far more receptive mood than he had been when Ginny had approached him before, and it was a delighted Molly who looked out the kitchen window that evening and saw Ginny and Harry in an earnest conversation out by the orchard. She watched as Ginny took his hand and twined her fingers in his, then led him further from the house and out of sight. Molly sighed thankfully. It might take some time to mend those bridges, but at least Ginny had taken the first step. Everything else would come with time.