See how I leave with every Piece of you.
Don't underestimate the things that I will do.
Ten Years Later
Dr. Colleen Avery was a successful private Mediwitch of five years. Dealing with the matters of a Witch or Wizard's mind, a specialty once thought to only involve Muggles in most magical folk's beliefs, her clientele ranged from the rich and wealthy to the famous. What made the Mediwitch's clientele so extensive stirred from the fact that those who came to see her remained anonymous. It was a shameful idea to see her for something as frowned upon as a mental problem; they paid high salaries to the witch under the sole condition that she remained as secretive as possible. This policy was highly respected by Colleen, who did not mind receiving endless amount of Galleons to simply listen and diagnose one's emotional and mental problems.
Hence, it did not surprise the Mediwitch to walk into her office one morning to find the alluring Ginevra Molly Potter, plucking a rose, on the mahogany bench usually held for patients.
"Women would give their arms and legs to receive even a glance from your husband, Mrs. Potter. However,here you are again in my office. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this time?" Colleen was a wise woman of thirty, living through the post-effects of the war where her clientele was at its highest count. There was a reason why Ginevra Potter sought out refuge; this was not a client to deny. The Avery's prices were outrageous per hour, thus each visit had to count as much as possible. If Ginevra was willing to spend the money, Colleen would listen with all of the attentiveness she had to offer. Settling her wand onto the desk, she picked up one of the magical quills that she had at her disposal along with a piece of parchment. A huge sigh greeted her in response.
"He gives me flowers on every single occasion we have." Ginevra's voice was soft, a low soprano that emcompassed the air with a lack of passionate zeal. It was a voice that did not belong to what appeared to be such a vibrant woman, whose hair shined like flames and eyes that told numerous stories of one well-trained in the ways of the magical world. "Today is our eighth anniversary, and a dozen roses was my gift along with the other trinkets and toys he's given to me over the years. I tried your exercises, Dr. Avery, and I could barely manage to tell him the words he so desperately wants to hear."
"Does Mr. Potter understand that your particular branch of post-war disorder is a difficult sort to diagnose?" Taking a seat in the leather chair across from Ginevra, Colleen's hard blue eyes observed the woman's state of dress and appearance: hair pulled back into a professional bun, a form-fitting, soft blue summer dress hugging every slender curve. Accompanied by a light white wool jacket to keep her arms warm, and soft blue sandals on her feet, Ginevra Weasley was definitely a woman of beauty and of grace - appearance wise, at least. Colleen was aware that on the inside was a traumatic hollowness that struck right at the Weasley nee Potter's core. She merely diagnosed it as post-war stress; young Ginny's involvement had once been Wizarding Britain's most vibrant news.
"Mr. Potter can't get it through his thick head that I don't like roses." Tossing the flowers to the side, Ginny tapped her foot onto the ground. The sessions always started like this: Ginny brought an item that Harry or James, her eldest son, gave her. Colleen elaborated on her current state of distress, and then Ginny had a fit because it forced to feel something other than emptiness on the inside. "Eight years I've committed myself to that man, despite the protests against dear ol' Mum and Dad, and he cannot even give me the right kind of flower on our anniversary. I've given him two sons, and he doesn't even know my favorite color. Do I look lovely in this blue dress?"
"Why, yes you do, Mrs. Potter." Colleen prepared for Ginny's rant. The tip of her quill touched her tongue, enchanting the quill with a light suck to prepare to copy down today's sudden session with the infamous Ginevra Potter. Under most circumstances, Ginny would have been forced to reschedule; yet, unlike many others, Colleen could not turn away the war heroine that switched the course of the Death Eater's plan so many years ago - thus, gaining Harry Potter and the Order the time and morale needed to defeat the Dark Lord. If nothing motivated Colleen to continue to allow Ginny special cases, the greed for her fame and her Galleons did it for sure.
"I hate the color blue." Ginny looked positively agitated. "Nowadays, it feels like I hate everything. Albus's birth forced everything to be more difficult. With James, at least I'm distracted somewhat. I've come to find that I cannot even stand the company of my own son for too long. He looks too much like Harry. . . all people wish to do is compare James to Harry. All my family wants to talk about is Harry. I swear, my heart plunged when Albus didn't come out with red hair. I just know he's going to look like that damned Harry when he ages."
"Mrs. Potter, it is completely natural for you to hold this animosity towards your husband, like I have stated before." Colleen spoke in a positive, clear tone. "What should be your concern is how long this animosity is lasting. When you first walked into my office, five years ago, I had originally estimated the length of your trauma to last no more than a few months at most. Who could be married to the Saviour of the Wizarding World and remain this hateful creature that you have seem to become? Yet, you cannot even manage to properly take care of your children."
"I'm not insane." By now, Ginny's hands moved to cover her face. It was a mistake to confess too much at once to Colleen. Once upon a time, Ginny told herself that she wouldn't even come back to visit the Mediwitch. It wasn't worth the Galleons she spent to be told the same thing. Now, Colleen daredd to hint at Ginny being a terrible mother - something Ginny did not want to hear. "I'm not. I just can't seem to find peace, Colleen. Everyone worships the ground that man walks on; they don't even see that I'm drowning here. I can smile and pretend that I'm the picture-perfect Mrs. Ginevra Potter, and they won't even try to see if its real. They will only assume that we're working out. I won't even let Harry touch me anymore. Not after Albus. He was a mistake, damnit." Ginny, by now, moved to a standing position.
"On our last visit, Mrs. Potter, you resolved that you were going to try and be happy with your family. You were round and pregnant with - Albus, you have named him?" Colleen's eyes remained fixed on Ginny. Though she saw nothing but the price that Ginny paid for spending time within the woman's office, it did not mean she wasn't good at her job. "You cried for hours about how you were falling into another trap with Mr. Potter. We came up with a compromise that you will find an element of contentment within your family. Something that you are talented with to use to your advantage and make things easier on you. What was the advantage point?"
Ginny didn't answer right away. She stopped pacing in order to look out the window. St. Mungo's gardens were a marvelous spectacle of colors and life that brightened the normal gloom drifting in the air of the magical hospital. Though witches and wizards walked along the outside of St. Mungo's gardens, Ginny saw none of that. Memories plagued through her mind as she saw a smaller form of herself walking through the same gardens, picking at the small flowers with a distant smile placed on her face. It was an act, a game of pretend, that she taught herself after her first year of Hogwarts. The run in with Tom Riddle's diary had earned her the first of her many stays at St. Mungo's over the summer of that year, trying to cope with the trauma that had established itself with the Dark Lord's touch on her young mind. Thinking that the doctors would never release her and allow her to return back to the Burrow, Ginny learned how to fake feeling better in order to get by.
"I know how to act, Colleen." Snapping back to reality, Ginny pulled from the window. Cinnamon eyes aimed towards the ground, her voice sounding distant. "I can act like Mrs. Potter when I don't even want to. If I pretend to be happy, everyone will think I am. Then, I am not a problem to anyone."
"Why, Mrs. Potter? Why are you not happy? We have never answered that question. It has been quite a while since the last session we've had; I had come to the conclusion that you had finally solved your problem. What could have triggered this epiphany for you, Mrs. Potter?" The quill in Colleen's hand scribbled quickly, attempting to keep up with the words of the session.
"I don't know." Ginny told the truth. It had been nearly a year, since Albus's birth eleven months ago, that Ginny needed to return back to St. Mungo's for this. Her act was so successful that she had begun to tolerate the darkness of Harry's hair, the bright emerald of his eyes, and the way that her family adored and gushed over her husband nearly as much as the Wizarding world did. Ginny almost convinced herself that she was finally starting to find a content method in her life - that perhaps the 'post-war trauma' was passing and she would start to recuperate.
However, the the pain in her chest that morning told her that it was all a lie. It stole her breath away, forced her into an upright position so viciously that even Harry had to hold and calm his wife to keep her from panicking over the sensation. Ginny feared that she was suffering from a heart-attack then; the pain was that strong. It was something she hadn't felt in a long time, not since… Then, Harry couldn't touch her anymore. She nearly broke into tears that morning from the contact of her husband's skin rubbing against hers, and she knew she had to return back to St. Mungo's. She needed Colleen to find out what had started the sensation all over again.
"Something triggered this, Mrs. Potter -"
"I don't know, alright? For a while, I thought it worked. If I would have just put this unnatural detestment of Harry aside, I could easily be with him. I didn't have to think about it or dwell on the feeling. I could have those silly dinners with my brothers and my parents, and I could smile and everything would feel like it was almost alright. Yet, this morning I just had this feeling that everything was just wrong. I don't even -" Ginny paused then, her eyes flying towards the parchment that the quill was quickly scrambling on. Next to the parchment laid the Daily Prophet - what appeared to have been one of the older issues. However, it wasn't the paper itself that caught her eye. The picture inside of the paper displayed what Ginny knew , with all of the intuition and clarity in the world, was the trigger. "I have to go."
"Mrs. Potter, my sessions usually last, at the very least, an hour."
"I have to go, Colleen." Stumbling out of the room as though she had just witnessed the ghost of Salazar Slytherin himself, Ginny pushed herself out of St. Mungo's psychiatric hall in a rush.
Colleen Avery slid from her seat in order to grasp the newspaper she strategically placed down next to the parchment that documented another case of Ginevra Potter's condition. It dated back ten years this date. The Potters' apparent anniversary and the day that Draco Malfoy was sentenced to exile from the Wizarding World by Ginny Weasley's testimony fell on the same exact date. Her conclusions were spot on. Somthing tied to this event riled up Ginevra Potter, something that made the infamous woman into the apathetic shell of her former self, only capable of feeling hatred. "We're almost there, Mrs. Potter…"
"Mum, tell me what Hogwarts was like again?" James Sirius Potter was an inquisitive kid like his Father, much to Ginny's dismay.
Sitting in front of her young son in the living room of Twelve Grimmauld Place, Ginny played a game of Wizard's Chess with him while waiting for Harry to return from the Ministry for their anniversary dinner. Rather than being stuck by his side for the trip, Ginny offered to stay at home with James and keep him company before her sisters-in-law, Fleur and Hermione, came to take both James and baby Albus for the evening. During the match, Ginny tried to come up with several excuses as to why she absolutely could not remain alone with Harry for the evening. The burning feeling in her chest would not go away but, knowing her sisters, they would simply attempt to give her soothing and healing spells to make her ready for Harry's gift that night.
"Mum? Albus is crying again." James walked over towards the rocker where Albus began to shift around uncomfortably, his wails sounding in the air. Picking up the baby, he brought the boy towards a distracted Ginny, who simply stared at the chess pieces on the board as they continued to try and smash each other to bits.
"Gift? What a joke..."
"Mum?" James's voice brought Ginny out of her trance.
"Yes, James? Ah - your brother." The red-head reached out to take the baby in her arms, glancing down into his sanguine features and rocked him softly. A feeling of remorse washed over Ginny at that moment. She wanted to feel more than regret for her children, wanted to stay in their company without feeling trapped. Tears reflected into her eyes as these thoughts crossed her mind; her stress with the recent feelings of dread only made dealing with Albus's cries all the more unbearable. "James, bring me his binky. I'll tell you about Hogwarts then."
Quickly, James hopped to the baby belongings near Albus's rocker. Ginny hadn't looked forward to talking about Hogwarts with James. Unlike Harry, who enjoyed telling his epic tales about battling basilisks in the Chamber of Secrets, soothing three-headed beasts and talking to gigantic spiders, Ginny had no tales of mysticism to give to her son. Her experiences at Hogwarts made no true difference to the Wizarding World. Touched by Dark magic with Tom Riddle's diary, falling in love with Death Eaters, and betrayal laced Ginny Weasley's importance through Hogwarts. Nothing was safe to mention to her son.
"Here, Mum. Now please, tell me a story about Hogwarts. Dad always has the best stories. Did you not have fun learning magic?" James brought the binky back to Ginny and sat next to Mother and baby, staring hopefully up towards Ginny.
"Alright, James. Did I ever tell you that I played Chaser for the Gryffindor team? The matches were full of magic and excitement." Ginny started, choosing one of the few memories she held about the school that were dear to her. "Imagine all of the broomsticks in the world zooming around you, the air covered in the coldest of rains or the hottest of heats, and the wind blowing so fiercely around you, it feels like you're going to fall right off of your broom." At James's laughter, Ginny felt the pain within her chest deepen. He looked too much like Harry when he laughed, and it ruined the moment.
"Did you ever fall, Mum? Dad tells me that you were a wicked Quidditch player!"
"No, James. I never fell," Ginny lied. She did fall, once. Within her memory, she saw the mud of the ground meeting her body, covering her with the substance. She saw the Hufflepuff yellow streak above her on fast broomsticks, and she felt the night's sky darken the field as the moonlight shone upon her body. The way the moon shone on brilliantly blond hair that approached her and scared her silly -
"Ginny!" The door opened suddenly, Ginny's hands clutching instinctively around baby Albus. Grasping onto the wand on the chess table, Ginny whirled around to point it towards the surprised faces of Fleur and Hermione Weasley, the women holding their hands up steadily. "Ginny, it's us - calm down. Fleur, please take Albus and James to the car," Hermione asked quickly, glancing uncomfortably at the way James held onto Ginny's leg in surprise.
"Car? You drove a car?" Ginny's voice felt clipped, like ice. Lowering her wand cautiously, she studied the worried expressions on her sister-in-law's face and felt guilty. "I won't hex you. Why are you barging in here like that, Hermione?" Ginny didn't feel anything as Fleur collected her sons with a gorgeous smile on her face, leading them out of the house. Hermione and Ginny remained alone, and Ginny knew she was scrutinized underneath the intelligent eye of the Granger turned Weasley.
"Harry told me to send you his apologies. He's staying late at the Ministry along with Ron, so you're to come with us. We couldn't Apparate with Albus being so young and with all three of you. We have to keep you at the Burrow for a while, Ginny -"
"Wait." Ginny took a step back from Hermione at the news. What was happening that was forcing Ginny out of her home? Not that she exactly minded that Harry was staying late - that was the better alternative than her having to lie at all to get out of his company. What event threatened to disrupt their so-called peace and 'happiness' that Ginny had to uproot from her home? "There haven't been any problems, Hermione, I promise. You do not have to put me on watch again."
"It isn't that, Ginny. It's Draco Malfoy."
The pain within Ginny's chest seized her quickly. She leaned against the doorway to the living room, a twisted expression marring her beautiful features. Yet, through the pain, something unfamiliar sought to bloom - something that felt deliciously painful and heartbreaking all at once. "D-Draco Malfoy?"
"Yes, Ginny. We must get you and the boys to a safe place. He's returned from Muggle London. He's back."
A/N : Thank you for your review, Veronica. =) Special thanks to my good friend Pam for beta-ing this story for me. I intend on posting as frequent as possible! Its only going to get more insane. ;)