Her mother was crying, her hands shook as they covered his body with a sheet. Dad stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders shaking almost as badly. George was nowhere to be found, he had slipped away silently. Hermione stood with Ron, their hands clasped tightly together, staring down at the sheet in a silent stupor. She craned her neck desperately, staring around the Great Hall for a sign, any sign, of him. Once or twice she caught a glimpse of dark hair, but it always turned out to be another student.
It felt like hours since she had seen him. Hermione and Ron didn't know where he was either, they both looked terrified when she asked. But he wouldn't have... he couldn't have gone out to them. He was their hope, but if he had gone alone...
Suddenly, there was a cry from outside. Ginny thought she could distinguish the sobs of Hagrid among the din inside the Great Hall. Then, a scream that sent a shock through her heart.
Professor McGonagall stood just outside of the entrance hall, her hands at her mouth. Her hair was disheveled, streaming down from her bun, and there was blood on the hem of her robes. She was facing out into the darkness, beyond where Ginny could see.
There was a surge toward the door, a panicked mass of people moving toward whatever had caused Minerva McGonagall enough horror to utter a scream like that. Ginny jostled through the crowd, pushing her way ahead of the other students, Hermione and Ron fast at her heels—
He was lying in the arms of Hagrid, who's great tears splashed down on his still, pale face. His glasses were crooked, there were leaves in his hair. The throng of students stopped, Ginny still fighting her way through them, screaming his name. With a jolt, she came to a full stop. Looking around, she realized George, his mouth set in a hard straight line, had a vice-like grip on the back of her jacket. She struggled against his hold, but he was stronger than she was.
"Not you, too." He whispered, and she stilled, her rage boiling inside her as she faced the throng of Death Eaters standing in a semicircle around their master, around Harry, who now lay at Voldemort's feet.
Voldemort was speaking, his Silencing Charm rendering them mute. Ron broke the silence, and Ginny's voice joined the din of roars that erupted. Another, slightly more powerful Silencing Charm. Voldemort continued speaking, continued lying, and Ginny would have hexed him right then for calling Harry a coward, for saying that he ran away, if not for George.
Someone broke through the crowd, Ginny realized with a start that it was Neville. He was Disarmed, struggling to his feet between the survivors and the Death Eaters. Voldemort was closing in on him, Bellatrix was laughing...
Then the Sorting Hat was aflame, then it wasn't, then the sword and the snake...
"HARRY? WHERE'S HARRY?" Hagrid roared, his voice rising over the chaos. George was hauling her back inside the castle, she faced the opposite direction as he pulled her, one arm around her waist, toward the Great Hall again, her wand spinning and flashing as she tried desperately to hit one of the Death Eaters, or even Voldemort himself.
Then George was gone, Ginny stumbled before regaining her footing, running with the rest of them into the Great Hall. She saw Hermione ahead, Luna slightly behind her. A curse flew over her shoulder, towards the two, and Ginny whirled.
Bellatrix Lestrange was striding toward them, her eyes wild, wand held high. Ginny moved to raise hers, but Luna beat her to it. The green light from Bellatrix's wand rebounded toward the ceiling, and Ginny immediately fired another curse at the woman. They whirled and danced, but Bellatrix was too fast, the combined efforts of Ginny, Hermione, and Luna seemed only to amuse her, she laughed as she fought, as if their charms were children's toys. Then, a jet of light shot toward Ginny, who could not react with her wand, merely jerked, watching as the light flashed so close to her that she could feel the heat emanating from it. She moved to fire back...
"NOT MY DAUGHTER, YOU BITCH" Her mother was moving more quickly than Ginny had ever seen, her cloak discarded behind her as she drew her wand. In equal parts horror and admiration, she watched her mother fight, watched the fury settle deep into the lines of her face and she fought. It was almost terrifying to see her mother use the Killing Curse, horrifying that she could be capable, and yet Ginny wanted nothing more than for one of her curses to land. Bellatrix seemed, for the first time, scared.
And then it happened. The jet of light streamed under Bellatrix's arm and her face froze, her cackle dying as she crumpled to the ground. There was a scream of fury, McGonagall and Shacklebolt and someone else flew away from him, his wand turned toward her mother.
"PROTEGO" A familiar voice roared, and Ginny's heart whirled. Before she could cry out, he was there, whipping off his Invisibility Cloak, turning to face Voldemort, a wand in his hand and a grim look upon his face. Ginny took a half step forward, her wand already aloft, then felt a Full Body-Bind hit her left shoulder. Frozen, only upright because of her tight proximity to the other students, she could only flick her eyes toward the source.
George, again. He was staring straight ahead, facing the two duelers now circling one another in the middle of the Great Hall, but his wand was pointed at Ginny, several yards to his right.
It felt as though no one was breathing. Harry was speaking, explaining what had happened, explaining the folly of Voldemort, and Ginny clung to every word. He was alive. He was alive and he was fighting. He was only a few feet in front of her...
Then wands were raised, spells were roared, and the body of Tom Riddle crumpled.
Ginny would have been first to reach him, but in the shock of the moment, George did not reverse his spell right away. She joined Ron and Hermione in the throng in the center of the hall, her hands grasping for any part of him, wanting nothing more than to see him, to hold him, to kiss him...
They had arrived home in the early afternoon. Mum began cooking almost immediately, Dad sat at the kitchen table but did not speak, his eyes fixed on the wood. Ginny and Ron joined him, briefly, but when the latter fell asleep at the kitchen table, Mum sent him upstairs for a rest. George and Percy had disappeared almost immediately after arriving home, and Charlie had gone to the sitting room to write a letter. Fleur hovered around Molly, helping with the cooking, her wand following the slight mess Molly Weasley was leaving in her wake, sloppy spellwork done through teary eyes.
"Mum," Bill rose to their mother's elbow, his hand gripping it gently. "Sit down. No one is hungry, we all ought to rest."
Ginny nodded, helping him usher their parents to their bedroom. The door shut, and a sob almost immediately filled the hall. Bill made a move to open the door, but Ginny stopped him.
"Don't," she whispered. "They reckon they've got to be brave for us. They need to let it out for a bit."
Bill nodded, looking weary, then he and Fleur Disapparated back to Shell Cottage, Ginny giving a promise to send word as soon as their parents had awoken. She climbed the stairs to check on Ron, but the muffled snores from behind his door indicated that he was fine. Charlie was finishing his letter in the sitting room, rolling it up as she entered.
"Mum and Dad?" He asked, stretching.
"Asleep, hopefully," she answered, her voice weary. "George and Percy?"
"Kingsley stepped in to ask for Percy a few minutes ago," Charlie gestured to the grate, where Ginny could see a few faint bits of ash on the carpet. "Seeing as he's been with the Ministry all these months, Kingsley reckons he could use Percy's help. He left with him, but I haven't seen George."
"Think we ought to leave him alone for a bit?" She asked nervously. In all her life, she had never seen Fred and George mourn, she found at once that she had no way of knowing how to handle it.
"I think," Charlie said quietly "that George will rejoin us when he's ready. I don't think we should push him right now."
Ginny wandered back to the kitchen. Fleur had cleaned most of the mess while Molly was making it, but Ginny set about scrubbing the countertops down, packing up the food Molly had made, and putting away the dishes. The labor distracted her, made her feel somewhat better. She realized with a start that the house felt too quiet, it was lacking the sounds of regular explosions out of Fred and George's room. She found a mop and set to cleaning the floors.
When she was done, darkness was close to falling. Ginny felt that she would not be able to sleep despite her mounting exhaustion, and stood for a moment in the spotless kitchen. With a tiny laugh, she realized that she could have done all of this by magic, as underage magic was probably the least of the Ministry's concern...
She stepped out to the garden and wandered down to their old makeshift Quidditch pitch. Her broom was still at Aunt Muriel's, but there should still be some old Cleansweep Fives in the shed. She walked over to it and opened the door, only to find George sitting quietly in the center of the floor.
He did not look as though he had been crying, but his shoulders shuddered when Ginny sat next to him. She did not know what to say.
"Sorry that I held you back," he whispered, his voice thick. He did not look at her but seemed immensely interested in the ceiling of the shed. "Couldn't risk you too."
She only hugged him, feeling his tense body relax. They sat for a long time in the shed until Ginny knew that George was asleep, his breathing even and deep, his eyes closed. She laid his head in her lap and brushed through his hair, staring absently at the gaping hole on the left side of his head.
There were so many losses, in this war. Sirius and Dumbledore, Mad-Eye, Remus and Tonks... somehow Ginny had never contemplated the loss of Fred. She had thought, many times, that Ron might not make it, that Hermione might fall in the course of the fighting. She had considered, at length, what losing Harry could be like. Fred was never a concern, never a consideration. She had always expected that Fred and George, with their quick wits and quick ways, would somehow maneuver themselves out of every risky situation, as they had always done at school.
But none of this had been like school. The only thing that had kept Ginny and many others upright during the battle had been the D.A. lessons. The jinxes and charms and tricks that she and so many others had learned from Harry had kept them alive. But, staring down at George's face, Fred had been in the D.A. too.
There was time, now. There was time to sit and think and talk. There would be time to celebrate, time to mourn. There would be time to rebuild their world from the losses it had suffered, to bury the dead, to celebrate the lives that would come out of this. Ginny knew that this would all be alright in the end, that the threat was gone, that peace could now be had, but it seemed as though a gaping, Fred-shaped hole held her back from that happiness.
For the first time, she felt a tear slip down her cheek. It splashed on the front of George's shirt, and Ginny wiped the others from her cheeks quickly. Shifting, she pointed her wand at George's sleeping form, Hovering him through the shed door.
She moved him back to the house, settling him in his old bed. She had been in Fred and George's room many times before, but it felt as though she was looking around for the first time. The twins had moved most of their belongings out of the Burrow after they started living above the shop, but remnants of the decorations still plastered the walls. She noticed for the first time how uniform the decorations seemed, thinking with a pang that Fred and George had been so similar that, aside from the two beds in the room, it would have been utterly believable to say that just one person lived here.
Closing the door quietly behind her, Ginny crept back to her parent's room. It was silent behind the doors, she could only hope that meant that they had gone to sleep. Charlie was dozing on the couch, Ron was still snoring upstairs. Bill and Fleur were home, Percy was at the Ministry, and George was now safely in his bed. The Burrow was quiet. Ginny changed into pajamas and crawled into bed, her eyes closing almost automatically...
With a start, she rose up. Determined, she strode out of her bedroom and into the sitting room. On the wall was the very object she was looking for.
Ginny pulled the clock down and carried it back to her bedroom. In her closet, Ginny covered it with an old towel, then climbed back into bed.
They had been at Aunt Muriel's since Easter. Ginny hadn't divulged most of the goings-on at Hogwarts, choosing only to discuss Snape's quiet reign of terror over the school. She left out most of the Carrows, choosing to let only the more vague pieces of information slip. After a few days, Fred and George had stopped asking her.
The twins were going stir crazy, they had exhausted the supply of test products that they had brought with them and couldn't get their hands on any of the materials they needed to make more. Their parents spent more time at Tonks and Lupin's house than they did at Muriel's, and on the evening that it all happened, they were clustered in one tiny bedroom, Fred and George taking turns turning each other's hair different colors.
Ginny sat with the Daily Prophet in front of her on the bed, eyes locked on the headlines. She was turning her D.A. galleon over absentmindedly, her fingers tracing the etchings on the outside, though they had not changed in months.
"Why do you think they did it?" She asked, pointing at the paper. George turned, his hair a brilliant turquoise that clashed fantastically with his freckles.
"Must have been something important locked up in one of the vaults." He went crossed eyed in an attempt to see his own hair, then gave up and turned his wand on Fred. In seconds, they were twins again.
"What do you reckon they're after?" Fred asked her, flashing George's hair into a pale jade color.
"I have no idea," she sighed, dodging one of the spells as Fred's hair went jet black.
"C'mon," Fred gave a wave of his wand and both brothers went back to their usual ginger, "Harry didn't give you any hints about where they were going, what they're after?"
"I know just as much as you do," she said, her voice quiet. "That Dumbledore gave Harry a mission."
"Look," George sat on the bed next to her. "I'm sure they're fine. They escaped Gringotts, at this point, I don't think there's anything they can't do."
"Lucky gits," Fred sat across from George, smirking. "Ten Galleons they've already killed the snakey bugger and kipped off to France for a holiday before they come back."
Ginny gasped, then. Fred reached out, gripping one of her shoulders.
"Gin, I was kidding, you know Harry would come straight back when—" She waved him off wildly, her eyes locked on the Galleon that she still held tight in her left hand.
The Galleon was burning, hotter than Ginny had ever felt it. The etchings whirled furiously, the letters changing.
HARRY AT HOGWARTS. HELP NEEDED AT ONCE.
"Blimey—" George whispered, his own hand plunging into his pocket, pulling out his coin as if he didn't believe the words on Ginny's.
"We've got to go," Fred stood at once, slipping his shoes on and tapping the laces to tie them.
"I'm coming with—"
"No," said Fred and George together, firmly. "We'll send word when it's safe, but you're—"
"Don't you dare say underage."
"Underage," Fred finished, his face grim.
"I was old enough for Dumbledore's Army—"
"An organization to practice."
"I was old enough to fight at the Ministry—"
"Where Sirius died."
"I was old enough to defend the castle against the Death Eaters, the night Dumbledore was killed—"
"Where Greyback very nearly got you."
"I was old enough to save your skin at Bill and Fleur's wedding," she whirled, screaming in fury to Fred.
"My back was turned, and he wasn't aiming to kill anyway. Ginny," he took a step forward, putting his hands on her shoulders. "If you're there and anyone knows about you and Harry, you're in more danger than the rest of us."
She knew deep down that he was right. It was the whole reason Harry and she had ended anyway, she told herself that it was the reason he hadn't contacted her in all the months they had been away. She had to be careful at Hogwarts, had to talk loudly and openly about how they had broken up, how he had broken her heart by saying that there was someone else. She was so convincing that, after a few days, the questions stopped entirely, for fear that she might burst into tears over the breakfast table. It was remarkably irritating, to have to fake tears, especially in front of the Carrows.
The Carrows.
"So I'm not old enough to defend Hogwarts but I'm old enough to have been tortured by the Carrows in it every day for six mo—"
"What?" Fred's voice was ice, and Ginny froze.
"I just mean," she stammered, refusing to meet his eye, "that the Carrows were evil, awful—"
"Torture?" George's voice was just as terrifying as Fred's, several tones deeper than normal. Ginny couldn't respond. "Ginny?" She shook her head furiously.
"George," Fred said, George gripping Ginny by the arms at once, effectively trapping her. Fred pulled her wand swiftly out of her hand and plunged a hand into his pocket, pulling out a tiny silver-wrapped colored candy.
"Ginny," Fred said, his voice suddenly cheery, "let me introduce you to the latest craze at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, Truth Truffles."
Before she could object, he jerked her mouth open and forced the chocolate inside. His hand firmly over her mouth, she had no choice but to swallow the candy, rolling her eyes as she did.
"Now," George said, his voice still low, "what do you mean by torture?"
"The Cruciatus Curse," she said at once, unable to hold the words in. "If you got a detention, they made other students practice on you."
"For how long?" Fred asked, his face white.
"They picked a year, made the Defense Against the Dark Arts students practice for the week. It was always worst with the first and second years because they weren't very good at it. The Carrows had to do more...demonstrations during those classes."
"How many detentions did you get, Gin?" George asked, after a long pause.
"About one each week, until we tried to steal the sword. After that, nearly every day." She responded, pressing her lips firmly together. They looked horrified, their faces plastered with equal parts disgust and rage.
"Why didn't you tell us?" The charm was wearing off, she could feel it growing weaker, but she would have answered this question even if it hadn't been.
"Because you would have run off to Hogwarts and tried to kill them yourselves!"
"You're bloody well right we would have!" Fred took a furious step forward, his voice raised.
"Children?" Aunt Muriel's voice echoed through the hall. "It's late, it's quiet time!"
They fell silent, the coin growing ever warmer in Ginny's hand. She turned it over and read the words again, hardly believing them.
"Are you going to let me come, or am I going to have to sneak away after you've left?" She asked quietly. The twins were silent, not breaking eye contact, for several long minutes. As if someone had spoken aloud, they both nodded at the same time.
"Right," Fred said at once. "We bring you, but you stay out of it if there's fighting." Nodding her acceptance, she grinned and let Fred take her arm. In a split second, they reappeared in the Hogs Head, the face of Aberforth Dumbledore grimacing down at them.
"George? GEORGE?" In terror, Ginny lept from the bed and tore the door open.
Mum was vanishing around the corner, her head in her hands. Ginny followed her at a run, then stopped when she reached the sitting room. She was staring up at the space where the clock used to be, her cheeks streaked with tears and her expression confused. The clock was not there. Morning light shone through the window, Mum stood in a patch of light in the sitting room, staring distressedly up where the clock used to be.
"Mum," Ginny said softly. "What's wrong?"
"George is gone." She whimpered, her voice cracking.
"Mum, he's probably gone back to thei— to his flat." She led her mum to the kitchen and busied herself making tea. After a long moment, Dad came into the room, taking a seat at the table beside his wife and gripping her hand. Ginny set the tea down in front of her parents, murmured something about dressing, then stole back to her room.
In the closet, George's clock hand pointed firmly to "Home." Whether the clock considered the Burrow or George's flat to be 'Home', Ginny was unsure. She was reassured, however, in the knowledge that George was safe. With one more wistful look at the hand pointing to "Lost," she dressed and moved back to the kitchen.
Charlie was awake now, Bill was back as well. Fleur was quietly making breakfast.
"Percy back yet?" Even as she asked, there was a crack in the back garden and the door opened. Percy entered, seeming more exhausted than Ginny had ever seen him. He slumped wearily at the table and took a cup of tea gratefully.
"Kingsley's a good man, doing what he is. Everyone seems to have an idea of what should happen, given that it's all over. I spent the morning questioning officials, trying to find out if they acted of their own accord or if they were Imperiused. 'Course," he broke off, taking a large bite of the eggs Ginny placed in front of him, "with all the fear no one is really rushing to condemn those that fought for You-Know-Who. Most people can't blame them, and there's not many left now anyway. Kingsley reckons most of them will probably go into hiding, those that stayed loyal until the end."
Percy babbled on as he ate, only pausing for sips of tea and to swallow mouthfuls of food. Dad was asking questions about known Death Eaters, many of whom seemed to have fallen during battle. It was only when Thicknesse's name was mentioned that Percy fell silent.
"Dead." He said, staring down at the butter. "Did it myself. Kingsley says he was probably Imperiused, but..."
Dad put a hand on his shoulder and they all fell silent again, only speaking when Ron entered the room. Mum seemed to immediately jerk from her stupor, fussing over him and pushing food and tea in his direction as Ron ate. He still had a smudge of soot or dirt behind one of his ears, which Mum noticed at nearly the same time Ginny did, nearly knocking Ron over as she scrubbed at it with a moistened handkerchief. Ginny had opened her mouth to ask Ron what had happened before the battle, but before she could get the words out, there was another loud crack from the back garden.
Ginny stood quickly, toppling her chair as she did, but it was not Harry who opened the back door, but, shockingly, Angelina Johnson who stood in the doorway. A confused silence fell.
"Angeli —uh... hello?" Ginny said, her voice raising in question. The taller girl, her dark hair escaping from her braids at the roots, seemed at a loss for words.
"I just— I wanted to check on George," she stammered, her hands twisting in front of her. "I'm a bit worried."
"Why are you worried?" Ron's voice rose behind Ginny, who realized with a start that she was blocking the door. She apologetically ushered Angelina in, who stood in the corner of the kitchen, picking at the skin around her thumbs.
"I'd just— can I speak with him?"
"He's not here," Ginny said at once, Ron whirled around to look at her, Percy rose from his chair as well.
"What do you mean he's not here?" Percy asked sharply, looking from Ginny to Dad.
"He left, he's back at his flat." She responded, confused at their reactions.
"Dad, I don't think he should—" Percy looked down at his father, a strange and serious look on his face "I'm going to go get him."
"I'll come with you," Ron moved to him. Ginny realized all at once what was happening.
"Wait, just a minute," she stalked out of the room.
She stared for several long moments at the clock in her closet, unable to process what she was seeing. Along with Fred's hand, George's, too, now pointed at "Lost". She covered the clock again, turning it toward the wall for good measure, then walked back to the kitchen.
Unable to meet her mother's eye, she mumbled, "Travelling" to her feet.
Percy seemed to deflate slightly. Ron was staring back and forth between him and their father. Angelina was engulfed in the arms of Mrs. Weasley, her hair being stroked as a few tears slid from her eyes.
"If he's travelling, we won't find him."
"Ginny, dear, bring me the clock back," Mum turned away from Angelina, her eye suddenly scolding.
"No," Ginny said firmly. "I'm keeping it for a bit." Mum opened her mouth to object, then shut it, looking confused.
"Please, please just let me know when he comes back, alright?" Angelina abruptly seemed calm as she strode to the door, opened it, and Disapparated with a crack in the garden. Ginny had a funny feeling that she was not going back to her own home.
Ron and Percy were quietly murmuring in the corner, directing furtive looks to the back garden. Dad seemed torn between their conversation and the one Bill was currently having with Mum. Fleur was leaning quietly against the kitchen counter as if hoping for the first time in her life to disappear completely.
"Mum, George will be fine," He rubbed their mother's back consolingly, his voice gentle. "He just needs time to cope. He's going to come back when he's ready."
"Besides, we're all exhausted and who knows if he got any sleep last night," Charlie pointed out. "He may even be travelling between his flat and here, I'm sure he'll be back soon."
Ginny stood for a moment, considering the two conversations, then crossed to the kitchen door and pulled out her wand. Staring out in the darkness toward the Quidditch pitch, she thought back to the many summers spent playing with Ron and Fred and George.
"Expecto Patronum," She whispered, feeling the eyes of her family on her back. Her silver horse glowed in the darkness, cocking its head at her. She thought for a brief moment, then whispered: "Just tell him we're here when he's ready." The horse jerked its head in a clumsy nod, then cantered off toward the sky.
Ginny was still standing at the back door when another resounding crack echoed through the garden. His figure appeared, alone, clutching a small piece of paper which he seemed to be furtively studying.
When he looked up, their eyes met. He was still for a few long moments, then began walking across the garden toward her. When he reached the door, he wrapped one arm silently around her shoulders, his lips against her forehead. She wrapped her arms around his waist, feeling his tense figure relax against her.
They did not speak. For now, they did not have to.