Slip
Ginny was miserable. The ride from King's Cross to the Burrow had been a drag. She had not cried or shown any emotion since Harry had broken up with her. She did not want to make things harder than they already were, for herself and for Harry. But she had not had the strength to see him again, to talk to him: it hurt too much, everything was still too fresh.
She had decided not to tell anyone about their relationship: she did not want teasing or anger from her brothers, and she did not need pity from her parents. It was for the best; no one could understand anyway. Harry was what she had always wanted, first as a crush, then as admiration and attraction, finally – no point in denying it – as love. He was everything she had ever wanted, and now that she had seen that reality was even better than her wildest fantasy, she had to watch him slip away. It hurt even more. She knew it was all for a stupid, noble reason. She didn't blame Harry, and the fact that she couldn't really get mad at him only made it harder.
Night had fallen now, and Ginny was safely cocooned in the sacred, enclosed space of her room. Now that no one could see her, she could finally cry. She cried for what had been, and even more for what might have been, and then she cried for what might never be. It was silent weeping: no sobs, just the slow, unrelenting trickle of tears. In the absolute silence of the Burrow, a single word slipped from her lips, "Harry". Barely more than a whisper, it was as if his name had been ripped away against her will from the cage she had built around her heart.
At that very moment, Molly walked past her door. She had known right away that something was wrong with her daughter. She heard her anguished whisper and opened the door. He saw her in tears, slumped on the bed, looking more miserable than she had seen her since the Chamber of Secrets. For a moment, a long look passed between mother and daughter, then, without a word, Molly took Ginny's favorite brush, sat down on the bed beside her, and began to brush her hair as she had done every night when she was a child. The gesture, so familiar, broke down the barriers Ginny had built up and she told her everything. Molly listened in silence.
"I feel like a baby!" Ginny finally exclaimed, angry at herself for what she considered a sign of childish weakness.
"We all need to feel like children sometimes," Molly replied calmly, "but you made a woman's choice. I'm proud of you."
Ginny turned to see a smile of affection on her mother's face. She could only nod.
"Let me tell you something." She added as she finished combing her daughter's hair. "If you really think Harry is the one for you, if you're absolutely sure, if you... if you think you love him..."
Molly paused and looked her daughter straight in the eyes, the same shade of chocolate as her own.
"If you think you love him, don't give up on him. If there is any motherly advice I can ever give you, it is this: never give up on love. If we give up on love, then we have already lost everything. Love is stronger than anything. I know it won't be easy, I know it may be the hardest thing anyone can ask of you, but you are strong, and love is always worth it. Dare to dream and always dare to love."
For the first time that day, a small smile appeared on Ginny's face as she nodded in response. She watched her mother slip out of her room and thought that no, she would never stop daring to dream and daring to love.
