A/N: A huge thank you to quick translations by Gaby Black for the dialogue spoken by Fleur' mother to Gabrielle. And thank you to stella8h8chang for the beta-read.
Chapter 11: Separate Ways
She never had a chance to say goodbye.
She never got a chance to tell her brother that she loved him.
Never got a chance to hug Hermione.
Never gave Harry a kiss farewell.
Ginny sat on the couch, her gold bridesmaid dress wrinkled and torn in places due to the sudden evacuation of the marquee. She sat next to Daphne in the Burrow's living room.
Waiting.
She could hear the pops of witches and wizards Apparating, but Ginny couldn't tell if any of them were of people leaving . . . or arriving.
She hoped to Merlin that they were of people leaving.
Fleur's family stood on the opposite end of the living room. Fleur's sister, Gabrielle, had her eyes closed, and she was humming something that Ginny did not recognize. Madame Delacour dropped to her knees, and took her youngest daughter's face into her hands. She kissed Gabrielle's forehead and cheeks as the girl continued to hum. After a few moments, Gabrielle began to sing words in French, softly and under her breath.
Ginny could hear Madame Delacour, whispering in her native tongue—
"Continue à chanter pour moi, s'il te plait, ma petite colombe. . . . Ta voix est jolie . . . tellement jolie!" She cooed to her youngest daughter and kissed the top of her head.
Ginny found herself utterly drawn to the soothing cadence of the language; it sounded as graceful as the song of a phoenix.
It simply took her breath away.
"Tu chantes si bien!"
Even if she did not know what she was saying, Madame Delacour's voice calmed her. It steadied her shaking nerves and her quaking breath. And it tempered her increasing desire to cry and yell and scream—
"Je t'aime, ma chérie. . . . Maman t'aime."
Hearing her mother's voice had had the same effect on Gabrielle. The ten-year-old opened her eyes and smiled serenely. Ginny saw Fleur and Gabrielle's father, standing behind the young girl, his hands firmly on her shoulders, occasionally patting them.
Fleur emerged from the kitchen carrying a tray of tea and biscuits. She smiled at her family and at both girls sitting on the couch. Ginny marveled at how her sister-in-law seemed to be so composed even though what was meant to be the happiest day of her life had fallen apart so terrifyingly.
Molly came down the stairs, and handed Daphne her school robes.
"What's this?" Daphne asked.
"You need to start wearing your House's colors from now on, Daphne." Molly's voice was deceptively smooth. "From now on, you're not leaving this house without wearing a Slytherin badge, or your school robes — any article of clothing with the Slytherin symbol on it. Anyone stops to ask you who you are, that's the first thing you show them."
Daphne paled. "M-Molly . . . I—"
"Put on your robes." Molly's voice never wavered. "Before they get here." She turned away and headed to the Burrow's front door, looking for her husband and her sons. They were positioned outside the Burrow's ward's parameters, waiting for the arrival of supposed Ministry officials.
Ginny watched as Daphne put on her robes. She noticed that there was water in Daphne's eyes and the girl was shaking.
"Need help?" Ginny didn't wait for an answer, but she held the back of the robes, allowing Daphne to stretch her arms out and push them through the sleeves. Adjusting each side and straightening out the garment, Ginny watched as Daphne touched the green and silver shield with a serpent coiled into a large 'S' on it.
"It may be the only thing that'll stop people from asking you a lot of questions, Daphne."
Daphne looked up at her. "It feels wrong to use this."
Ginny was just about to open her mouth, when the Burrow's door burst open.
Molly walked quickly inside, followed immediately by Arthur and Bill. Behind them were five men who strode into the Burrow as if they owned the place. Ginny felt the bile rise up into her throat.
She wanted to ram her knee into their crotches.
Instead, she sat on her hands, balling them up into fists and clinging to the skirt of her dress. She looked over; Daphne appeared to have tucked her wand under her lap and had smoothed the front of her robes so her badge was as visible as it could be. Looking back up at the men, Ginny couldn't shake the feeling that one of them looked familiar, as if she had seen him somewhere very recently—
Charlie and Fred and George entered the Burrow last; Ginny could see that their eyes furious and livid. Arthur gave them a look that told them to back down.
The five men were dressed all in black, from their capes and robes to their boots and gloves. The first man — a tall, burly, dark-haired fellow—pointed to the two men directly behind him. Ginny couldn't stop thinking that she had seen him somewhere before.
"Boller. Malvole. Check out the upstairs area. Attic. All bedrooms." The man sneered at Arthur. "This family is known for their close ties to Potter." Ginny watched as both men bolted up the Burrow's staircase, and Fred and George followed, holding back a bit, trying to look like they were letting the bastards do their jobs.
Ginny couldn't help but feel violated, having these strangers tear into her childhood home, sullying it with their dirty, rotten hands.
For a brief moment, she flashed back to her first year . . . and her breath quickened as the memory of the cursed diary took a hold of her brain—
"Arthur, what about Percy?" Molly's shaking voice caused Ginny to snap back into the present.
Arthur shook his head. "Charlie'll go once they're done here." Molly nodded, but the tense expression never left her face. "Oh!" Arthur whispered in a volume just a little louder than a whisper. "Did you remember? The clock?" he mouthed to his wife.
She nodded. "Safe."
Ginny bit her lip as she watched her dad kiss her mum on the top of her head.
"Voxney!" the burly fellow bellowed again, "Check the grounds outside." Voxney nodded at the command. Charlie and Bill followed closely on his heels.
"Do not," the commander shouted threateningly at Bill and Charlie, "try anything with my men! Remember — your family is in here. You hurt them, and everyone in this room—" he waved his wand, pointing Fleur and family, Arthur, Molly, Ginny and Daphne, "everyone – dies!" The man's wand sparked as he moved it among the two families.
Ginny watched as a violent, consuming fury flashed upon both her brothers' faces. Setting their jaws and stuffing back the impulse to hex the bastard right on the spot, Bill and Charlie turned around and walked outside as quickly as they could. Ginny heard Fleur let out a small sob, and reign it in, desperate to not give these men the satisfaction.
The man giving the orders strode towards Arthur and Molly, who were holding each other's hands tightly.
"You," the commander said with a curled lip, "can call me Yaxley. This is Runcorn. We will be conducting interviews with your family members about any and all information concerning one," Yaxley sauntered up to Arthur and stood perilously close to him, "Harry James Potter!"
It was the first time Ginny saw her father look directly at a man with a sneer of disgust on his face.
"How dare you interrupt my eldest son's wedding day for this!" Arthur asked him, his contempt darkening his expression and clouding his voice.
Molly put a calming hand on his chest. "Arthur, please." She turned to Yaxley. "You will ask your questions, and you will leave. Understand?"
Yaxley gave an amused, mirthless smirk. "Well, I see who it is that runs this little show around here."
Ginny missed the rest of whatever this Yaxley said to her mum and dad — because she suddenly remembered where she had seen the bastard!
(He fought with them!)
(Oh Godric! He was there at Hogwarts! He was there the night Dumbledore—)
The other large, dark-haired man — the one Yaxley called Runcorn — peered at her in a way that sent cold chills down Ginny's spine.
"So, little girl," Runcorn drawled. Ginny watched her mum swiftly leave her dad's side and move towards her. "Tell me what you know about Mister Potter."
Ginny felt her face and body tighten. Her tongue felt like lead; it just wouldn't work — and that was when she felt her mum's hands on her shoulders.
"I haven't seen him for some time." Ginny jutted her chin out defiantly; she could feel her mum's touch strengthening her, giving her the ability to lie to these fools.
"There're rumors that Potter has very strong feelings for the youngest Weasley girl." The words rolled off of Runcorn's tongue and Ginny wanted to retch hearing the suggestiveness of his tone; this prick managed to tarnish the feelings for Harry that she carried deep down in her heart—
"Well, that idiot broke it off with her. So she knows nothing about that speccy little coward's whereabouts!"
Runcorn's neck snapped to his left, as did Ginny's; Daphne stared at the man with a frightening expression. Part defiant, part aggressive . . . as well as part—
(Hungry? Bloodthirsty?)
(She's ready to tear this piece of shit apart!)
Runcorn moved away from Ginny, intrigued by this little upstart of a girl.
He looked her up and down, and let his hand move to her chest, touching the Slytherin blazon on her robes. Daphne recoiled from his contact, and Ginny felt her mum try to lunge forward to help her.
The Death Eater's wand flashed in front of Ginny's face; the tip just centimeters from her.
"You move, old woman," Runcorn said, never taking his eyes off of Daphne, "your daughter gets a curse right between her eyes."
A revolting leer spread across his face. He addressed Daphne. "A Slytherin, eh?" A mirthless chuckle escaped from his lips as he rubbed the Slytherin blazon attached to her garments. "What are you doing here? Associating with the worst kind of blood traitors?"
Ginny saw Daphne swallow. "I-I work at their sons' joke shop."
Runcorn raised his eyebrow. "Oh?"
Daphne nodded, and shrugged. "They just invited me to the wedding. Didn't really have much else to do." Daphne stared straight at Runcorn. "There's not many businesses that're run by pure-bloods still around. I've been hanging around with these people since the summer holiday started." Daphne's nostrils flared. "I haven't seen Potter. At. All."
Runcorn squatted directly in front of Daphne. "You know," he began, "I was in Slytherin. Many, many years ago."
He extended his finger and swirled it over Daphne's Slytherin shield. He continued to speak in a slow, drawling tone, his words thick and heavy, like molasses rolling out of a jar.
"In Slytherin, we learned that Mudbloods were the worst kind of wizards and witches." Runcorn's head fell to his left, but he kept his eyes trained on Daphne. Ginny saw Fleur sit up in her chair, and her mum shook her head very quickly, indicating she shouldn't get involved and risk curses being thrown at random by the intruders.
"What's your name, girl?" Runcorn's finger lingered on Daphne's chin.
Molly gasped in disgust. "This is e-nough!" she interjected. She made a move toward Daphne, but Runcorn held up his wand again, aiming it right at Ginny.
"Speak, girl." he said to Daphne in that disgusting voice. "It's not hard."
Ginny could see her gulp. "D-Daphne. Daphne Greengrass."
"Tell me, Miss Daphne," Runcorn's face was now almost touching hers, "what do you think is the second worst kind of witch and wizard?"
"Bl-blood traitors."
"Gold star for you." Runcorn sneered at her. "I want to hear you say it."
Daphne furrowed her brow. "Say what?"
"What do we call 'the worst kind of wizards and witches'?" Runcorn touched the tip of Daphne's nose and Ginny saw the girl flinch.
"We c-call them . . ." Daphne was breathing very rapidly now. She shut her eyes briefly; they flew open and looked directly at Runcorn. "We call them Mudbloods."
Ginny saw Daphne's lips curl in disgust and her eyes harden.
Runcorn stood up. "Excellent! Weasley, I never realized that your family actually had decent taste in their associates." He looked back at Daphne. "Excellent, indeed."
Runcorn and Yaxley looked up as they heard the thundering steps of Boller and Malvole coming down the staircase, followed by Fred and George, looking a bit smug. "The upstairs is clear. No sign of Potter or that Mudblood girl that's a known associate and accomplice of his."
Yaxley stepped forward. "What about their youngest son?" he asked with an aggressive voice; he jerked his head toward Arthur.
Boller shook his head. "It — I-I'm . . . not sure."
Yaxley stormed toward Boller. "What – do – you – mean, 'not sure'?"
Malvole looked a bit bewildered, but tried to talk with an intimidating voice. "There's definitely someone up there. These two," Malvole gestured to Fred and George,
"indicated that their youngest brother Ronald, is upstairs suffering from spattergroit." Malvole shuddered. "It was like he's one gigantic sore! And he smells horrible . . ."
Yaxley and Runcorn looked at each other. Yaxley nodded and Runcorn raised one eyebrow. "Fine! The youngest Weasley son has spattergroit. What – ever!" Runcorn stomped over to the door of the backyard. "Voxney!"
The man who had been sent out to the Weasley's backyard area ran up to his commanders. "All clear. No sign of Potter or his Mudblood girlfriend.
Yaxley turned slowly back toward Arthur and Molly. "Well, Weasley, we've no further business with your family. To-night." The metal in his boots clicked and clanked on the wood floor of the Burrow as Yaxley made his way to the front door.
Stopping, he turned back around, slowly.
"We will," a leering grin, full of arrogance and smug superiority, filled Yaxley's face, "be – in – touch. And watching. Always," he winked and sneered, "watching."
The five men left.
And no one exhaled until they heard the pops of Apparition in the distance.
Fred and George beckoned to Arthur, and the three of them went up the stairs.
"They didn't suspect the ghoul?" Arthur said over the stomping.
"Refused to get close enough to see," came Fred's voice. "They made a mess of things upstairs, though."
"Daphne, are you going to be all right?" Ginny watched as her mum walked towards Daphne, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder.
Daphne flinched. "Y-yeah, Molly. I'll be f-fine."
"I'll start some hot chocolate. I want you to have a cup, okay. The chocolate will help calm you down."
Daphne nodded absent-mindedly, but Ginny saw her pull away a bit from her mum's hand.
Directly in front of the girls, Fleur embraced Bill, who had just come in from the backyard. Charlie went to his mum.
"Oh, Charlie!" Molly held Charlie's face in her hands. "He didn't try anything—"
Charlie shook his head. "No, but I've gotta try to find Percy—" Ginny could hear her mum telling him things to say to his brother if he was able to talk to him.
"Beel, you are all right . . . 'e did not 'arm you—"
"Nothing happened, Love." Bill stroked Fleur's silvery hair, and gave Fleur's father a sad, apologetic smile.
"Sir. Monsieur Delacour." Bill broke away from Fleur and went up to her father. "I am so sorry about all of this." Fleur finally let out a small sob and embraced her parents.
"Guillaume," the eldest Delacour said gently while he patted his daughter on her back, "None of zis you need to apologize for. None of zis iz your fault."
"Please, call me Bill. I insist."
Gabrielle was quietly crying, and Fleur took her over to the tray of tea and biscuits. Madame Delacour came forward to Bill. "We shall call you our beau-fils! Beel, you are a part of ziz family now. You and your family. And we could not 'ave asked for a bettair addition." She turned towards Molly. "Molly, please allow me to 'elp wiz any necessary cleaning—"
Molly waved her back down. "You are our guests, I cannot allow that—"
Madame Delacour placed a hand on her shoulder. "You can allow eet, and you weel allow eet!" And the two women walked up the stairs to assess the damage.
Ginny realized that her breath had finally slowed down and her body was starting to unclench everywhere. She looked over at her companion on the couch, about to say some words of reassurance and humor.
Daphne was staring off into space, her eyes vacant. She looked pale and drawn, but the longer Ginny observed her, she thought her skin was developing an odd green tinge—
"Excuse . . ." and Daphne jumped off of the couch and headed to the bathroom, cupping her hand over her mouth. Fleur made to get up to help her, but Ginny waved her down.
"Stay with your sister. I'll help."
Fleur nodded.
The door was shut when Ginny approached the bathroom. But it didn't block out the sounds of retching and heaving from inside.
Ginny winced as she heard a great heave. Knocking on the door, she said gently, "Daphne? It's Ginny. Do you need help?"
She heard heavy breathing, and silence for a couple of seconds. "C-come . . . i-in."
Ginny opened the door. Daphne's hand was flopped on the toilet seat and Ginny could smell the pungent odor of bile in the bathroom. She tried not to let it affect her; instead, she adopted a similar expression as she had seen on her mother whenever one of the kids got really sick.
Ginny crossed her legs and sat on the floor in front of Daphne. "Do you need anything? Water? Wet towel?"
Daphne humorlessly chuckled and rolled her head back onto the wall. Ginny waited for her to speak.
"I haven't said that word in a long time." Daphne shut her eyes tight, and tears were coming down. "I haven't said that word with any meaning behind it for even longer—"
"He made you," Ginny tried gently reminding her. "That bastard made you say it, and I thought you were trying to deflect him away from me." Ginny took her hand and Daphne opened her eyes. "You did a really good job."
A big sob came out of Daphne's mouth. "Please don't ever tell Hermione I said that in there." She shook her head. "I'm sure she thinks I've said it before . . . hell, I might've said it in front of her. But I don't think like that anymore." Daphne looked at Ginny directly in the eyes. "I don't."
Ginny nodded and gave her a smile. "I believe you, Daphne."
Daphne's lip continued to tremble; she bit her lip. Ginny noticed that she had bit down so hard, she was drawing a little blood.
Just as she was about to stop Daphne from cutting herself further, the Slytherin girl spoke. "I can still smell his breath on my face."
Ginny shook her head. "He was absolutely disgusting!" She rubbed Daphne's hand. "Do you need to talk about it?"
Daphne only shook her head. "I just need to get my pajamas. Take a shower." She shivered again. She rubbed at her clammy forehead with one hand, and touched her chest with her other. "Get his hands off of me."
Daphne swallowed and she made to get up, but stumbled. Ginny moved to provide support for her.
"S-sorry Ginny," she mumbled. "Feel a bit dizzy."
Ginny shook her head. "Just walk. I'll help you."
Ginny couldn't sleep. Instead, she lay in bed, struggling to write in her Muggle diary, despite the waves of tears and sobs that seemed to pour from her eyes and throat.
All she could think about was them . . . the three of them. Out there, being hunted and chased down.
They were vulnerable now. You-Know-Who could find them, and then—
Ginny fell backwards onto her pillow, allowing her quill to slip from her fingers and the page of shaky, incoherent writing flip over to a blank sheet. The tears simply kept coming and she made no attempt to stop them.
Why would she? She was in her bedroom.
Alone.
Only a couple of things of Hermione's had been left behind: some clothes, a few parchments — nothing that said anything about their mission.
(Fuck their mission!)
(Don't think like that.)
"Ginny, dammit!" She swatted at her face and cursed her selfishness. All she wanted was for them to be back, for You-Know-Who to be gone, to have never existed, for Harry's parents to be alive, and for Ron and Hermione to be together and happy.
Ginny had wondered whether it'd been obvious to her dad and mum just how shaken she was now that Harry, Ron and Hermione were gone. Her dad had sent a Patronus to tell them that everyone was all right. But not to return to the Burrow, for it was being watched.
Her dad had assured her that they were safe at Grimmauld Place, and that when a couple of days had passed, someone from the Order would check up on them.
She had given him a reassuring smile, and closed her eyes as she hugged him. She had thanked her dad for his promises.
But as she lay in her bed, Ginny realized that it wasn't enough.
She needed more, she needed to be absolutely certain.
She needed—
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK
Ginny sniffed and rubbed at her face vigorously. She hoped that there wasn't any evidence of her moment of weakness.
"Come in."
The door opened. Daphne Greengrass stood in the doorway. She was dressed in her pajamas and had a black-and-green robe draped over her.
Ginny thought she still looked a bit peaky.
"I . . . er, were you sleeping?"
Ginny shook her head. "Honestly, I don't think I'll ever really sleep again after tonight."
Daphne nodded. She coughed and cleared her throat. "W-would you mind if I slept in here? Just for tonight?" she qualified under her breath. Daphne meekly gestured to the now-empty bed and Ginny found she couldn't say anything.
Because an almost irrational impulse to say "But that's Hermione's bed!" almost escaped from her mouth.
"Sorry," Daphne muttered.
Ginny shook her head. "Daphne, wait!" Ginny almost jumped up out of her bed, catching her diary and shutting it before it dropped to the floor. She thrust her hand out right before the Slytherin girl shut the door. "Of course. Yeah, you can stay here." Ginny sat back on her haunches. "I . . . I think it would be nice to have someone in here." Ginny shrugged. "We can talk and, I dunno," she sighed and looked at the other girl, "we can be here for each other."
Daphne gave a small nod. "Well . . . all right?"
Ginny grinned. "All right."
The Slytherin girl entered the room, and shut the door.
Settling herself on the extra bed, Daphne started speaking. "Do you have any idea where—"
"Not a clue! Believe me, I've been running through every single conversation, every moment that I can remember between Harry, Hermione and Ron." Ginny slouched against the wall; despite her best efforts, she could still hear the muffled thickness of tears that seemed to be stuck in her throat and in her head. "I've got nothing."
Daphne clicked her tongue on the top of her mouth and let out a trembling breath. "I don't want to think of them being out on their own."
"That's all I've been thinking about," Ginny said sadly.
Daphne chewed on her lip; her eyes found a spot on the wall just past Ginny's head. "What the hell kind of quest could Dumbledore have sent them on?! They're our age, for Merlin's sake!" Daphne shook her head. "They're just our age. Doesn't matter that Harry's 'The Chosen One'," she curled her fingers next to her head, signifying quotation marks. "It matters that he's only seventeen."
Ginny snorted. "He's beaten You – Know – Who before. When he was a baby." She looked down at her fingernails, worrying them until they were smooth and shiny. "He can do it."
"He's got Ron and Hermione with him. Harry'll be able to do anything so long as he's got them. Hermione's brains will get him through anything."
Ginny raised an eyebrow. "And Ron?"
Daphne remained silent for a couple of second, and, slowly, a smile grew on her face. "He's their spirit, isn't he?"
Ginny nodded and grinned. "He's their laughter."
"And he's oddly insightful."
"Capable of the wisest words—"
"But he'll deny it until he's blue in the face."
Ginny laughed. "That's our Ron, isn't it."
Daphne's grin faded. "I can't believe he and I are friends, y'know?"
Ginny looked at Daphne for a few moments. She thought that this was as good an opportunity to ask her what she had been dying to find out for ages. "How did that happen, by the way? How did you and Ron become friends?"
She shrugged. "I snuck into the Slytherin boys' dormitory to snoop around in Malfoy's things, and when I told Harry, Ron and Hermione about using other methods of getting information, Ron made a comment about me going all Slytherin on them." Daphne rolled her eyes. "I got pissed, stormed off, and he brought me down to the kitchens a couple of days later and we talked it out." She grinned. "He said he was starting to think of me as a person, not as a Slytherin, during the middle of our fifth year, when we were learning Patronuses in the D.A. Remember?"
Ginny nodded.
Daphne looked down at her legs, stretched out in front of her, her socked feet wriggling on the edge of the bed. "He once told me that he started to see that good people can do bad things and bad people can do good things." She looked back up at Ginny, and to the Gryffindor's surprise, the girl's eyes were wet.
But she was smiling.
"And then he said I was a good person." Daphne breathed out. "I needed to hear that then. I didn't let it sink in before, but I've had some time to think about it."
"And?"
"Well, I guess it was how he was able to become my friend. He thought I was a good person, even if I do some really shitty things." She continued to look at Ginny with a watery smile; she could see, despite the teary expression, that Daphne's happiness was quite evident. "He saw past some of my crap. I saw past some of his. And we just came to this conclusion that both of us were human beings. Not just another Gryffindor or a Slytherin." Daphne wiped her eyes. "From then on, I felt like I was a part of something. And now look at me." She threw her arms out open. "I'm here with you! Part of the Weasley clan."
Ginny chuckled quietly. "It's been quite a year, hasn't it?"
Daphne sighed as a tear slipped down her cheek. "It has indeed."
A/N: English translation for the dialogue between Madame Delacour and Gabrielle are:
"Please keep singing for me, my little dove. Such a lovely, lovely voice!" "Sounds so pretty!" "Love you, my dear . . . mother loves you."
