Ginny laid unmoving in her childhood bed, her body stretched and stiff. The steady rise and fall of her chest was the only indication she was alive. Gwenog Jones, the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch captain, flew circles across the bright yellow walls from poster to poster without disturbing her owner's slumber.
"Ginny, breakfast" Molly called up the stairs.
Ginny's eyes burst alert to the day. Her arms remained fixed at her sides in her comatose posture. What time was it? How long had she been asleep? Ginny sat up in a cold pool of sticky residual sweat. Damp sheets clung to her skin as she tried to extricate herself from her bedding. Her heart raced as if she had completed an intense flying session with Gwenog instead of first waking. Flinging her body on her bed she waited for her pulse to return to normal. She squeezed her eyes shut to avoid the light pouring in through her window.
She hated this part of the day, the waking from the Dreamless Sleep potions. Six weeks ago she was given her first dose in the hospital wing after being rescued by her childhood hero, Harry Potter, from the Chamber of Secrets. One of the darkest wizards of all time, "He Who Should Not Be Named", spent a year targeting and possessing her with dark magic. Her memory was riddled with gaps after she ignored her Dad's teaching and she willingly corresponded with an object that replied despite having no visible witch or wizard connected. The parts she could remember, blood on her hands, the basilisk, and hurting her friends, left her screaming in the night.
Madam Pomfrey, Hogwort's healer, said she needed her rest, her body needed to recover from the trauma. So her Mum gave her a teaspoon of Dreamless Sleep before bed to help her sleep without silencing charms. Waking up to a blank void filling time and space felt too much like the lost time from "He Who Should Not Be Named", or Tom, the personified diary version she intimately knew. Ginny got out of bed and pulled her dressing gown over her pajamas. She drew her long red hair out of the back of her collar allowing it to cascade down her back.
"Ginevra Molly Weasley I do not serve breakfast in bed. You come down in the next 10 minutes if you want to eat!" Molly roared up the stairs.
Ginny sighed. Today was another day. She walked into the hall as the floorboards creaked beneath her feet. The annoying daily sound calmed her heart and steadied her pulse. Walking on these old floors reminded her that she was home and she was safe. She took a moment to stand outside of her door creaking the loose floor board playing a song only she knew.
"Ginny, do you have to start every day making so much noise?" Percy brushed past her to his room. She stuck her tongue at the back of his head and continued her walk downstairs.
"Oh, there you are Ginny. I was about to yell again." Her mum stood at the foot of the stair. She brushed the hair away from Ginny's eyes and looked at her face. "Run along and eat up. You have a long list of chores to help me with this morning."
It was interesting, every morning since returning home there was a long list of chores waiting for her. Ginny turned away from her Mum and crinkled her nose obeying her order for breakfast. Today would be another day filled with simple tasks keeping her within five feet of her mother at all times. Ginny sat across from her Dad and smiled feebly at him as he drank his coffee and read the Morning Prophet. He smiled at her before folding the paper to start a conversation. In the last moment, he stopped and hid behind the paper reading his article.
"I was thinking of going for a swim this morning. Before midday and the heat picks up," Ginny tested her Mum. Seeing if she could push her into giving her space and time to herself today.
"No, I am afraid not. There is much to do this morning. You need to help me clean the coop, resort the broom shed, and de-gnome the garden."
"If you like I can work on the coop by myself while you tend to your garden. Then we could do the broom shed together this afternoon after I swim."
Her Mum's bowl stopped mixing by itself. The spoon clattered to the side leaving the kitchen eerily quiet. Her face crinkled in consternation as she processed the rebuttal. Ginny's Dad cleared his throat and shot Molly a knowing look. He folded the front page down on the table and switched to the Quidditch section.
"There is no sense in both of us putting up with the smell," Ginny tried.
"You know I don't mind. It will go twice as fast if we do it together," Mum rebutted.
"But you hate cleaning the coop."
"Ginny," Her Mum said not as her name but as a thinly veiled threat. With one word Ginny knew she pressed too far.
"But you do! You hate cleaning the coop you always complain about how it is your least favorite chore! I don't mind, honest."
"We will do it together and that is final." The spoon rose re-entering the bowl. It spun around the bowl at a frenzied pace. Bits of cake batter shot over the sides hitting her Dad on the side of his ear. Ginny looked down into her eggs defeated. She didn't have the energy to fight back. Everything felt so insurmountable these days. Battles a year ago she would have spent all day fighting to get her Mum to move an inch. Places she used to love to egg people on to get a rise. They all felt too large to bother.
"Alright, Mum let me change. I will meet you in a minute." Ginny's voice deadened barely above a whisper. What was the point in fighting? Her Mum didn't trust to leave her alone for five minutes. She probably thought Ginny would summon another dark lord or join the death eaters by accident.
"Ginny."
"It's okay. I am not very hungry anyway." Ginny pushed away from the table leaving behind a half-finished breakfast plate. Food didn't taste the same lately. What should have been buttery fluffy eggs tasted like flat cardboard. Everything turned her stomach, but if she didn't eat at least half a plate her Mum would worry more.
Ginny shuddered at a chill sweeping through the warm inviting kitchen. She trudged up the stairs. Thinking she was out of earshot she heard her Dad speak to her Mum. She stopped walking and hid in the corner of the landing feeling the embrace of his gentle baritone voice.
"You are doing the right thing Mollywobbles."
"I know dear, I am just worried." Her mum sighed in resignation.
"We need to keep our eyes on her."
"But she isn't fighting back. Why isn't she pushing me harder? Where is our little spitfire?"
"She is in there dear, we just need to keep at it and keep her close. She needs to feel safe and secure again."
"I miss her."
"I know, so do I. But we will get her back. And until then, I will make Lucius's life a living hell for daring to touch my daughter with his vile dark filth. I will throw every possible raid on him. We have already started talking to his free elf. I know there are more dark objects in that house. I promise you he will pay for what he has done to our family." A stranger's voice filled with venom replaced her father's. Ginny never heard her gentle kind father speak with such deep contempt and hatred. There was something animalistic about the way he said Lucius's name. He spoke with pure aggressive hatred.
"I am going for a walk. I need to think." The chair scratched against the floor as it was pushed violently away from the table.
"Arthur. Please," Her Mum begged.
"I will be back before lunch dear. I will stay close today. I won't shut myself off in my shed with my plugs," The love and gentleness returned to his voice. "I love you my Mollywobbles."
Her Mum sobbed. Soft quiet tears transformed to gasping full body sobs. Ginny ran the rest of the way to her room with her head spinning. The private emotions she witnessed were caused by her. Her choices triggered her Dad's anger and Mum's despair. Her poor decisions. Her arrogance. Her weakness. The pain circulating the house underneath the cheerful veneer was palpable.
Why? Why were they holding this in and pretending this was a normal summer? That she was a normal girl? Beyond the emotional hospital room confession, her Mum refused to speak about the past year. Not wanting to upset her further Ginny made sure not to bring it up. She wanted for everything to be normal. She walked around with a fake smile plastered on her face and tried to be the girl she was before.
She tried so hard to be that girl. That funny, energetic, carefree version of herself. But obviously, from her Mum's confession, she wasn't trying hard enough. Her parents could see she wasn't okay. Anger rose from the depth of Ginny's stomach. Why? Why are they all pretending? She had the urge to release the anger. Release the pain and frustration that had mounted over the last several weeks. She hurled herself onto her bed burying her face in her pillow. Muffled, Ginny released a feral scream. She tried to push the resentment and vexation through her voice.
She spent several minutes panting heavily into the pillow. Opening her eyes she could see the light peering through the corners of her yellow pillow case cover. Birds cheerily chirped outside of her window. Her Mum bustled in the kitchen banging and clanging her pots and pans. Sighing a final deep breath into her pillow Ginny went to her wardrobe and dressed for the day.
By midday, the heat climbed to a record high. The cooling charms her Mum placed around the living room were inefficient. The suffocating heat stifled them. Her Mum sat in a rocking chair with her knitting basket strewn open. A maroon ball of yarn danced at her feet as she magically clanked her needles together. A small wireless in the corner crooned Celestina Warbeck. Her Mum hummed along softly with a serene relax look on her face. Ginny watched the clock in the corner. The second hand moved slower with every passing minute. Boredom as thick as the heat engulfed her.
"It's half past noon Mum."
"Mmmhmm dear."
"Can I bring Dad lunch in his shed?"
"Hm? No, we can do that together dear."
"I don't mind Mum."
Her Mum stopped humming and knitting. The look of ease and peace left her face as her forehead contorted into rows of deep seeded wrinkles.
"That's fine dear. Just to the shed."
"Really? You don't mind?"
Her Mum sighed. Her eyes traveled back and forth. From the kitchen, to the shed, and finally to Ginny. She smiled a false smile.
"Go on dear, I know you need a little space."
Ginny felt a twinge of guilt at causing her Mum more worry. But the prospective freedom quickly shoved the guilt away. She hurried to the kitchen and prepared a simple sandwich, crisps, and some fruit. She took extra care to arrange it artistically on the plate making the apple wedges form a flower. Carrying the plate and a large glass of milk, Ginny carefully made her way to the shed. She was about to knock when she heard the angry voice from this morning booming inside.
"I have never been as disappointed in the Weasley name as I was when I received the summons from Dumbledore this year."
Ginny's heart stopped. Degredation clung to her skin her like the heat in the air. Her parents' previously unspoken words suffocated her under their weight and meaning.
"She is your sister!" A loud bang of a fist hit the door clanging it on it's hinges. "Do you have any idea how much guilt your poor Mum is feeling? At her being left to her own devices and left abandoned and alone? But how? How on earth with a brother for a prefect could she have felt she could not ask the school for help? How did none of you notice she was not herself? How did you not notice how quiet she has become? When have you ever known your sister to be quiet? Ever? She practically was born chattering about."
"Father, we tried…" Percy began.
"You didn't try hard enough!" Her Dad growled. "You two caught up with your practical jokes, Ron you are only a year above her! How, how on earth does a girl with four loving brothers go an entire year possessed with none of you the wiser?"
With that Ginny had heard enough. She dropped the plate and let the glass crash to the ground. Why was last year everyone's responsibility but her own? She couldn't breathe. She needed space. She needed to air. Why was there no air outside?
She took off running for the orchard. She let her legs move of their own accord as the momentum pushed her forward. This was too much. All this anger behind closed doors, this responsibility never shared. These secrets. Why are there so many bloody secrets? This didn't feel like her family. Tom tarnished more than her soul when he brought her into his chamber.
She kept running. Burrs stuck to her bare feet as she hit the woods but she didn't register the pain. She kept running. Her lungs burned as she tried to pull more oxygen into her body. She ran faster. Sticks scraped her legs as blood trickled down. She ran further. Anywhere. Anywhere but here. Anywhere but under this magnifying glass. It was as if she was a small ant held by giants as a burning light shone on her back.
A root jutted out from the ground. Her foot hit it at an awkward angle and she tumbled into the brush. Hitting the ground hard she let her body release panting on the earth floor. She rolled onto her back breathing heavily into the green canopy of the trees. The wind rustled past her face as somewhere far away she heard her name called but the birds drowned out the sound protecting her from needing to return back home.
She didn't register the pain in her knees or palms of her hands. The constriction in her chest and tension in her shoulders released. It was as if she was breathing for the first time in months. A wave of fatigue overwhelmed her. Her eyes began to droop as the melody of birds warbled around her filling her ears with their peaceful song. A warm breeze covered her skin like a soft blanket. She snuggled into the ground allowing sleep to overtake her rather than fighting against the effects of a dreamless sleep potion.
For the first time in almost a year, she felt in control of her surroundings. No worried controlling parents. No suffocating Tom. No anxiety or fear. Just herself and her breath falling into the safety of an afternoon slumber.
