It was odd being in the Crooked Crone, not seeing any of her regulars or hearing the music on the piano and a few drunken singers breaking into a boozy sea shanty. The full bottles of gin and spirits lined the shelves and sparkling mead glasses floated above the stand, hanging themselves on the rack. A lonely mop bustled about the already speckless floor. Occasionally, shadows would float by the drawn windows. The bar was closed for nearly a week now.

"You're comin' back, right?" Talia said as Ginny dropped the keys and her resignation letter on the bar stand.

"After I screwed you over?" Ginny said.

"Technically, we were closed. Potions Mafia or whatever they're calling 'em these days."

"I didn't give two weeks' notice."

"I'll close my eyes?"

"You're really something, Talia."

"Oh Gin." Talia threw her hands around Ginny, pulling her in for a firm hug. "What am I going to do without ya?"

Ginny wrapped her hands around Talia. "Train someone else?"

"You know there's no one else like ya." Talia pulled away, glaring. "Seriously. I asked Mr America to mix a few cocktails and they were bloody horrid. Too much sugar."

"I'm sure you can train a man from Texas to put a stopper on the simple syrup." Ginny laughed.

"I can. Doesn't mean I want to."

In a moment of realization, Ginny caught a glimmer in Talia's gaze. "You like him!"

"Well," Talia grinned suggestively. "He's growing on me. As a potential worker."

"Mhm. Thought you weren't hiring tall, dark and mysterious types with an accent?"

"First impressions can be deceiving." Talia smiled. "We could also find a good lad around here for Ginevra Weasley, Dark Lord slayer. Maybe Mr America has a brother, or a devilishly attractive cousin?"

Ginny smirked. "Didn't slay anyone."

"Not yet."

Ginny sighed. " I'm going to pass on the lad."

Talia went about putting away Ginny's keys, taking her time.

"What?" Ginny asked.

"You're running," Talia said.

"I'm going home."

"You know who you remind me of," Talia said. "That red-haired girl who walked into the Crone one night last year and said she could handle a crowd because she grew up with six brothers. A girl who could take anything that came her way. She was also running from a man…from a future she didn't want. And what now? Only to come running right back into his arms?"

Ginny thought of Harry, of the way he'd always been honest with her despite her initial protests. "Maybe that girl was wrong. Maybe she wants that future."

"Or maybe, that girl-" Talia pointed a finger at Ginny. "Needs to learn that if she wants a better future, she needs to mend the present she has and move on to better things."

"I'm not going to apologize to him."

"Who said anything about apologizing?

"You implied it."

"Gin," Talia said softly. "Sometimes wizards do stupid things to impress the witches they love."

"Love."

"Tobias…Severus…the way he looked at you," Talia said, "I've only seen a fonder look between a regular on a Friday evening and his Firewhiskey."

"He can have his Firewhiskey, for all I care-"

"-but you do care-"

"-I don't." Ginny slumped on a stool. "I did." I do. "Doesn't matter. He can keep his looks and stupid acts. I'm over it."

"That's what they all say."

"I'm serious. This time, I'm going to make better choices with my life, especially with my wizards."

"If I had a Galleon for every time I heard that phrase behind this bar," Talia said. "So what's the plan?"

"Harry said he'd take the Portkey with me back to Devon, make sure I get home safely before going to the Head Office at the Ministry to make an official report regarding the case. Thought I'd let him take me."

"Helps to have an Auror with ya'. Trouble's a brewin'."

"Sure does." Ginny shrugged, then stood up. "I guess this is goodbye?"

"I don't do goodbyes. I prefer 'until the next Happy Hour'" Talia walked around to give Ginny one last, deep hug. "Keep yourself safe out there. Death Eaters and all. Don't get into any fights."

Ginny hugged her back, her heart sinking. "I've had enough fighting to last me a very long time."

-xxx-

"I've had enough fighting to last me a very long time," the carriage driver grumbled as Harry and Ginny settled into their transport.

The moment the two of them landed in Devon's Portkey Terminal, reporters in all colors of uniform swarmed them at the exit. At first, Harry acknowledged them with a simple wave and nod of his head and walked the opposite direction, but that gesture only summoned their lot closer. Before Ginny knew it, she was attacked from all angles with bright flashes and pricked with floating quills as strange faces peppered her with every question imaginable.

What contraband potions were really distributed in the Cagailshire raid?

How many criminals did Auror Potter take on single handedly?

Was she dating the Chosen One?

Was it true that Harry has an eight-pack underneath his robes?

Ginny kept mum, keeping a blank look plastered on her face as Harry slowly parted the procession, shaking everyone's hand and answering every question with an, "We await the official reports of the Ministry" and a "We thank you for your support!"

Ginny thought she'd burst until she saw a black carriage roll down the street and a driver—whose gaze remained transfixed on Harry—walking towards them. With a few Confundus charms, he managed to pull Ginny and Harry from the crowd and get them settled into the lush seats. The carriage rose into the air and made a sharp turn towards Ottery St Catchpole.

"One of the perks of being an Auror," Harry said sheepishly, stretching out in his seat. "Still feel a bit guilty for having all of this luxury."

"Beats Portkey travel," Ginny mumbled, resting her head against Harry's shoulder. She remembered doing so during the reception at Bill and Fleur's wedding, digging her cheek into the soft fabric of his dress robes. Only this time, it felt different, less settling.

It's because I'm tired, she told herself, closing her eyes and listening to the soft whinny of the Thesrals and the wind whipping against the glass panes.

"Is everything okay?" Harry asked.

"Just tired."

"I'm here if you need to get something off your chest."

What bothered Ginny wasn't something she was ready to share with anyone, least of all Harry. Ginny hadn't said goodbye to Severus before leaving. She contemplated, but decided that if he wanted the two of them to stay on good terms after the showdown with the Dark Lord, he would have chosen his parting words a little more carefully. Besides, what would he want to do with her? She was a stupid young witch who was silly enough to believe that Voldemort's Right Hand Wizard would let her in on all his secrets and let her help him save the Wizarding World. She was nothing more to him than a plaything, no more important than one of his weekend red-haired flings.

Still, the feeling of abandonment would not let her rest. He could have just taken what he wanted from her with the snap of his fingers. Hit it and quit it, bluntly speaking. He didn't. He led her on to believe she was important to him, then tossed her aside. It made the betrayal that much more cruel. She wasn't going to make the mistake of trusting him again after that. She would be wiser this time around and give her heart to someone who truly deserved it. At the very least, it would be someone who was willing to make amends and earn her trust again.

She wrapped her arms around Harry's and shut her eyes tightly.

The images behind her lids flashed. The Crone. Young Tom Riddle, the one from her memory, and the older Voldemort sitting in the Warehouse. Pettigrew the Rat. Severus the rat. Severus. His hands. His neck. His lips on hers. His room. Lucius in the Floo. Talia and the Texan.

It wasn't until they landed at the edge of the Burrow property, and Ginny had walked up the dirt path, pushed open the front door, stepped through the wards and fell into her mum's warm embrace that she felt a sense of comfort and safety wash over her. She wrapped herself tightly into her hug—the one that smelled like homemade stew and fresh buns and laundry powder—and let out a gentle sob.

"Hush now dear," Molly said gently. "You're home."

"I'm home," Ginny repeated, eyes stinging and wet, large tears dripping down her cheeks. "I'm home."

AN: Thank you for your patience with this chapter. Work has taken over, but I am slowly easing back into my writing routine. Sadly, writing about red-headed witches and their brooding companions fighting Dark Forces doesn't pay the bills (yet). Enjoy!