Days passed, then weeks. Ginny's headaches grew far apart as Harry settled into life at Number Twelve Gimmauld Place. Which was good, in Ginny's opinion. Life was hard enough at the moment without finding herself visiting Harry's mind every few minutes.

Nothing was the same after the wedding. She was a prisoner in her own home. They all were. Her father received special privilege to go directly from the Burrow to work at exactly eight o'clock.

No one else was allowed to leave the house. The enchantments meant to keep death eaters out were now keeping her family in.

Just thinking about it made Ginny claustrophobic.

Fred and George were staying in the apartment above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Bill and Fleur were living in a cottage that used to belong to a distant aunt. Percy and Ron were both missing in action. Charlie had returned to Romania.

She was left alone, the last baby bird to leave her parents' nest.

Mrs. Weasley tried to make the current situation more comfortable for the three of them, but only made things worse. Like anyone wanted to participate in family bonding activities. (The word 'bonding' alone had Ginny holed up in her room.)

Staring at the same four walls every day gave Ginny plenty of time to think, however. And think she did. About Harry. About what the future might hold. And about the bond—especially the bond.

The more she thought, the more Ginny came to the impression that something was wrong with her bond to Harry. Neither Bill, nor Fleur, nor her parents said anything about being able to see into the mind of the one they're bonded to. And even if they forgot or chose not to tell her, Ginny didn't see her mother doubling over with pain when her father was having a bad day at work. The night the Order transported Harry to the Burrow, her mother didn't appear to be going through what Ginny went through the night of the wedding ambush.

Maybe we did something wrong, Ginny would reason, maybe the saying wasn't what I thought it was.

Over and over, the same worries swirled in her head. What if the bond grew stronger? Or weaker? What if she got stuck in Harry's mind or vise versa? What if they both went mad because of it? What if—? What if—? What if—?

She almost went crazy wondering if she'd go crazy.

The day before her return to Hogwarts, her mother paid a visit to her room. Sitting down next to her on the bed, Molly Weasley took her daughter's hand and smiled reassuringly.

"You've been spending a lot of time in here," she said, glancing around at the complete mess Ginny's room had become.

Ginny made an off-hand noise, preferring to inspect her walls than her mother's face.

Gently, her mother took Ginny's chin, forcing Ginny to look at her. "Your father and I are worried about you. Is…is there anything you need to talk about?"

"No." It had been days since Ginny had said a word. Her voice was so hoarse, she sounded like a chain smoker.

Mrs. Weasley sensed the lie. Her eyes flitted to their joined hands. "You leave for Hogwarts tomorrow."

"I know."

"Are…are you going?"

"I don't want to."

Their eyes met. The chocolate of Mrs. Weasley's seemed to melt. The chocolate of Ginny's remained dull and flat. "Ginny…they're not coming back any time soon."

Ginny's face twitched.

"I know it's hard to accept. I'm still trying to….But waiting around for them while you miss your opportunity to learn isn't going to bring them back any sooner."

"I—I know."

"Good." Mrs. Weasley tucked a stray strand of hair behind Ginny's ear. "Be packed and ready to go by eight tomorrow morning."

And she left.

Ginny couldn't deny it—she missed Hogwarts. Harry, Ron, and Hermione wouldn't be there, of course. As far as Ginny could tell, they were concocting a plan to break into the Ministry of Magic. (Maybe Harry had already gone crazy…and he dragged Ron and Hermione down with him, thought Ginny.) Hogwarts wouldn't be the same without them. But if it meant gawking at a different quad of walls, Ginny would go without hesitation.

The ghoul moaned upstairs. It now lived in Ron's room, which was right above her own. Ginny spent many of her nights lying awake, listening to it moan and snore.

A smash. The ghoul screeched, its flailing and wounded noises so loud, her parents heard it from the kitchen.

Wands drawn, they came thundering up the stairs.

Ginny was already in Ron's room. What she saw made her want to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it.

The ghoul must've found a pouch of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder under Ron's bed. Thinking in was food, he took a taste, and threw in on the ground in revulsion, where it exploded. When Ginny entered, the powder was clearing from the air, revealing a ghoul full of cuts, shards of glass, and a broken window.

"He must've crashed into it when the powder detonated." Mr. Weasley said, out of breath but holding back laughter.

"Poor thing. Scared him half to death," replied Mrs. Weasley, giving the ghoul a sympathetic look. "Ginny, if you would, repair the window. I'll be right back with my books on healing spells. We'll patch him up."

A knock came from far below.

"That would be the death eaters," glowered Mr. Weasley, his ears turning red. "Come to make sure none of us has made a run for it."

He disappeared down the stairs, Mrs. Weasley close on his heels.

Ginny repaired the window with a flick of her wand. Her eyes moved from the ghoul, to Ron's bed, to the camp cot, and stopped.

In his panic, the ghoul had tipped it on its side. Bending to set it back on all four legs, an object caught her attention.

One of Harry's shirts.

Picking it up, Ginny ran the cloth through numb fingers.

When her parents returned, Ginny had retreated to her room and hidden the shirt deep in her school trunk.

Sometimes mental connections weren't enough.

So sorry for the wait! I would've had this chapter up yesterday if it weren't for Word acting up on me. Well, enjoy! ; )