The rest of her Easter break went by in a blur. Her goal for Hogwarts clear, she tried to enjoy the brief reprieve that she had finally been granted. Despite the alarming whispers in the Burrow, and the coming and going of her family, she could feel stress and adrenaline slowly leave her body. Ever since Rookwood's arrival, she'd constantly felt under threat. Yet back home, in the hugs of Mum and Dad, the teasing of Fred and George and the hair-ruffling of Bill, she found an illusion of normality and safety.
Slowly, she began to go through the familiar motions. Degnoming the garden and flying over it afterwards. Starting and then ignoring her homework. Taking walks to Ottery St. Catchpole, as well as the cemetery. The latter often saw her Dad or Mum accompanying her. They claimed it was because they too wanted to visit the graves or needed to go to the town, but she knew it was fear that drove them there with her. Fear that a Death Eater would consider her a pleasant diversion, or she'd run afoul of one of the many, many new rules that the Ministry had been pushing through. It was stifling, and she was certain that before, she'd have resented them for it. Nowadays, she was grateful. Because truth be told, she was afraid whenever she left the safety of the Burrow. With her family by her side, she could at least pretend there was no danger lurking beyond the Burrow's borders either.
She slept in often, an enormous exhaustion had followed on the heels of the fading adrenaline. Not that her nights were that reassuring; the same nightmares that had plagued her for almost a year now kept visiting her. Her friends died before her eyes a thousand times over, as did Charlie, Sirius and all those other Order members that had been lost. Of many, there hadn't been even been body to bury, just a disappearance that left no other logical explanation. Her dreams happily filled in the blanks.
There had been no burial, of course. Even of those of whom they had recovered a body, there had been only a group cremation and dispersal of the ashes in an unknown location. The new regime spared little love for those who had been dubbed traitors and adherents of a corrupt regime. Instead, Mum and Dad had made small shrines in the backyard, simple crosses with simpler inscriptions: a name, two dates and a 'thank you' engraved.
She did wish Percy would come home. He seemed permanently busy at the Ministry, even more than when he'd still worked for Crouch. No doubt those were the demands of the dangerous game he was playing, but she did wish he could come home just once. She wanted to see him and hug him, to sit on the porch with him again and sip hot chocolate as she talked about her worries. Even Bill had begun to show fractures, but she knew Percy would be more stalwart. That he could hold her in his determined unflappability, or at least feign it.
Of course, she sent him letters, but with rumours of owl post being intercepted, all she dared to write were questions of when he'd be home so they could talk. But as the days went by, her remained absent. And that made her hate him a little bit, though she felt ashamed about it. He was her brother and she defended him day in and out against accusations and doubts from many of her family members. Only Bill was equally assured of his loyalties, even Mum and Dad showing the occasional glimpse of doubt. Not that she minded defending him, far from it, but it would have been easier if she'd been able to talk to him just once. Yet as the last day before Hogwarts came and went by, she accepted that the memory of Percy would have to suffice for now.
#
At first, it felt like somebody was rocking the boat she found herself in. She and Harry were sailing on the ocean, nothing but water around them. The sun was setting in the distance, the glare beautifully reflected on the water. All they could hear were the seagulls, the crashing of the waves and—if she focused enough—each other's thoughts.
Harry leaned forward and took her face in his hands. He was smiling and his green eyes shone with a brilliance they'd only shown on the Quidditch Pitch before. They'd never shone like that when he had look at Chang.
They leaned forward, lips touching, even as the boat began to rock.
Two hands gently shook her awake, shattering the image. At first, she tried to hold on to the dream. But as the shaking intensified, her reflexes kicked in.
She jolted upright, even as her hand dived under her pillow and retrieved her wand. A curse was already in her lips, her wand halfway a figure eight when she recognised the person sitting next to her on her bed, his horn-rimmed glasses reflecting what little moonlight crept through her ratty curtains.
She threw her arms around his neck. "Percy!" she yelped.
"Sssh," Percy shushed her, "the rest is sleeping." There was no sting to his admonition though, and the way he hugged her back only affirmed it. "Hey little sister."
"You came," she whispered.
"Finally," he admitted wryly. "I'm sorry it took so long, but I was out of the country for a few days. Yaxley," and the venom with which he said the name erased any lingering doubts she still carried, "needed me to smooth things over with the French Ministry. They have taken a dim view of the coup."
"And did you?"
"Officially? Yes. There will be no French involvement, and Yaxley is over the moon, calling me his favourite pet. Officiously? Some French Aurors will come reinforce the Order soon enough."
Well done, big brother," she said, smiling. This sounded exactly like how Percy would wage a war.
"But enough about that, how are you doing?" he asked, brushing his work aside with an ease she'd once considered impossible for him.
It was easier to hug him again, rather than explain it all. And Percy clearly understood, enveloping her whole. "That bad, eh?" he asked gently.
"I don't want to go back," she admitted, the truth spilling out of her the second she realised it, tears hot on its heels.
"Of course you don't," he agreed. "It must be terrible. To see Hogwarts so perverted," he spat out, cradling her as she sobbed. "Terrible and lonely."
She nodded as he laid her feelings bare. "I have Tori there, and a few others, but still. Almost everyone has given up. It feels like we're just the audacious, foolish few shouting into the storm."
"Sounds familiar," he conceded. "It's the same at the Ministry. All bow, most mean it. And you can never tell who has truly given up, and who is still fighting, for to speak is to die. There's no safety."
"Except here," Ginny stumbled out. "Here I feel safe."
"Me too. Mum and Dad are good at that. A sanctuary in a storm. But it's an illusion," he said with a sad smile. "My deal with Yaxley keeps us safe, but it's a safety wrapped in chains and lived inside a golden cage. Or even a regular cage," he amended.
"I know. But it's nice still," Ginny admitted, feeling very unworthy of her Sorting as she said so.
"I know," Percy agreed, finally letting go of her so she could reach for her handkerchief and blow her nose. "And it's better than nothing. It's enough for now, until we win the war." He was the first who had posited it as fact, and a fact as simple and straightforward as the thickness of a cauldron bottom. In his voice, there was no doubt, wavering or even suffering. She loved him for it, and wondered why he alone could speak with such certainty. It begun to dawn on her that for the first time in her life, Percy had become the brother she admired most.
Percy draped an arm across her shoulder and squeezed it. "So if you want to stay here, I understand. Say the word and I'll make sure you can withdraw from Hogwarts."
Once again, he sounded so sure that she believed it. And her whole mind screamed out yes. Safety. Freedom. In chains but freedom still.
"I need to do something at Hogwarts," she admitted.
"I know," Percy said and left her wondering if Dumbledore hadn't told him to. The letter had only spoken of Bill and Fleur of course. But Dumbledore had always had wheels in wheels. Or perhaps her brother had figured it out for himself. "I know how important it is. And I'm willing to do almost anything for this war. Sacrifice anything," he admitted, his mournful eyes telling tales of terror after terror that he'd lived through and committed these past few months. "But not everything. Not my family. So say the word, and I'll arrange it. As for what is at Hogwarts, we'll find another way."
Her mind screamed out its assent yet again. An end to her fight. But her heart refused, bolstered by the knowledge that Harry would have kept going too.
"Thank you Perce, but no. I have a duty."
Her brother smiled sadly. "So say we all. And thus, the Order marches on. You're braver than the Wizarding world deserves." He ruffled her hair and smiled. "And I know you can't promise anything, but please, try to stay safe."
"You too," Ginny said.
"I will," he said as he rose. "Get some more sleep. I need to go. Moody will want a report," he said with the weariness of a hundred restless nights.
"Perce…" she said, his name a question on its own. He paused and turned around.
"Yes, Ginny?"
"Snape once called you the Dark Lord's latest recruit. Does that mean…"
Percy nodded as he rolled up his sleeve, revealing the Dark Mark. The Dark Mark on a Weasley. On her brother. It was enough to make her stomach turn. "I'm sorry," she stammered.
"Oh Ginny, trust me, this is nothing. But an ugly tattoo. I had to do far worse. They weren't easy to convince. But we each have a price to pay to keep our hope of victory alive. And this, I'll pay gladly."
Without another word, he walked out of her bedroom like a soldier marching off to war, one who had accepted he would die, but found himself alive still against her odds. Ginny prayed their luck would hold.
#
The next day saw her returning to Hogwarts. Yet again she had dreaded Death Eater interference until the last moment. However, only Aurors waited at King's Cross, overseeing everyone's return. Of course they served the new regime, but it was far more reassuring than any Death Eather delegation would have been.
Even more surprising was the return of the Muggleborns, Colin and Denis at the front. Admittedly, their numbers were even smaller than before, but she soon gathered that had for once stemmed from their own precautions, rather than any action on Voldemort's behalf. Many had fled to the continent. Others their whereabouts were unknown, but as no Dark Mark had hung over their home, people tended to be optimistic.
And of course, Astoria was there too. She flew Ginny around the neck and hugged her fiercely. They had agreed only to use owls in case of emergency, yet still the adage of 'no news is good news' had never been harder to hold onto. Yet here her friend was, looking as well-rested as she'd ever looked. Of course, she was still pale, but that had become par for the course. Her expression was lively and her bracelets jingled as she gestured enthusiastically.
Just for a little while, things felt normal.
It didn't last, of course. As soon as they'd claimed a seat on the Hogwarts Express and Astoria and Ginny had unleashed all the privacy spells they knew on their compartment, talk turned sombre again. Still, as awful as it was that these times demanded you enquired after the wellbeing of friends and family, at least this time they both had good news. Perhaps they simply found themselves in the eye of the hurricane, but then they'd just enjoy it.
Astoria hadn't sat still either, during the Easter break. She happily upended her bag, letting it rain notebooks and parchment rolls. A yelp escaped her when a horribly pink and floral affair fell out too, quickly stowing her diary again. Ginny did catch a glimpse of a heart with the letters A and D written in it, but was soon enough distracted by the locations and rumours her friend had dug up. Most of these were only legends, no doubt, but only one had to be the real deal for them to be successful. Ginny could feel it strengthen their resolve just like her discussion with Remus had: sometimes hope was all that was needed.
#
Their final Quidditch game against Ravenclaw was an exercise in awkward encounter after awkward encounter. Katie and Demelza still avoided her gaze and Ginny couldn't feel too bad about it—let them carry their guilt for abandoning the DA and her. Yet they still passed her the Quaffle and she tossed it past the Ravenclaw keeper time after time. Not once did her arm shake, not even when she pumped her fist after another goal and her eyes found Rookwood in the audience.
Not that they won. Dean's replacement tried, but Chang was—despite Ginny's vocal claims to the contrary whenever she flew nearby, or not so nearby—a decent seeker and their lead hardly sufficient. For that, McLaggen's replacement was too miserable. Still, what he lacked in skill, he made up for in not being Cormac McLaggen.
In the end, they didn't get the Cup. But neither did they spend the whole season getting annihilated. A win against Slytherin and two close losses against Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw had been more than anyone had dared to expect from a season dedicated to rebuilding. As she landed on the pitch, nose and ears still cold from the wind and hair a tussled mess worthy of Harry, she allowed herself to briefly dream of the next year. Sure, Katie would be gone by then, but the rest would be just that tad more experienced. Maybe she'd even be captain then. She could already imagine herself holding the Quidditch Cup, borne aloft by the rest of the team as the crowd cheered her on.
Don't you think they'd prefer a captain who is... Tom didn't complete the sentence, but he didn't need to. She could easily do it herself.
Pretty. Desirable. Unblemished. Whole.
Her hand shook as she stepped off her broom and her scars shifted and burned as she disappeared into the changing room and dove under the shower. Only long after she'd exhausted the hot water and the rest had made their way to Gryffindor Tower did she feel even remotely normal again.
It was her own fault; daydreaming like that was ridiculous. A war was being waged. Who knew what regime would rule over Hogwarts next year and what they would allow and prohibit? Who even knew if Hogwarts would still be standing?
Ridiculous. If there is one thing in this world that could outlive me, it will be Hogwarts.
She stepped out of the shower and began drying her hair with slightly too much ferocity, upset at her own ridiculousness. Right now, she had to focus on Horcruxes and Voldemort. If somehow they managed to off him before the next school year, then she'd be allowed to daydream. Such an effort would definitely get her the captaincy though. She giggled to herself at the thought and then berated herself for falling to levity again.
But then again, they were all allowed to some fun, right? Though even the twins struggled with it nowadays. There had been some jokes during the Easter holiday, but most of them had known a perfunctory quality. As if they made them more out of habit or some sense of obligation than any real desire. They lacked the wit and fervour of their jokes of old. And while it had made for a far more peaceful break, she had grown to resent it—resent them. As if they could be faulted for losing their spark in such dire times. Anyone would.
And still… the twins had always been so much larger than life. For even them to falter, it was sobering. Yet there was nothing to be done about it. They would muster on, with whatever scars they'd accumulate on the inside and the outside along the way.
And occasionally, they'd allow room for humour, pleasure and hedonism.
That at least Gryffindor house knew as well. When she finally returned to Gryffindor Tower, a party was in full swing. Banners hung lopsided and butterbeer, spiked punch and firewhisky flowed freely. It felt like they'd won the cup. And while they hadn't gotten close to it, they'd finished above Slytherin, as the banners proudly proclaimed. One even had an animated lion eating an animated snake.
Luna would have liked that.
Perhaps that was enough in times like this: small victories against if not the real enemy, the closest they'd get to the real enemy, at least until Rookwood formed his own Quidditch team. So why not celebrate?
She happily accepted a cup from a nearby Gryffindor and raised it when a bunch of drunk seventh years began chanting 'Weasley is our King'. She'd try to point out she was female royalty, but given their current state, it was a miracle they already remembered any words, if not the proper tune, so any gender lessons would probably be wasted on them. Besides, she liked the original better anyway. Admittedly, after her initial lapse against Slytherin, she'd known a great, almost-tremble-free season, but she much preferred it if they remembered Ron first and foremost. And indirectly, that other legendary male Weasley Quidditch player, Charlie.
Maye they'd sing Weasley is our queen next year, when she was waving the Cup at the stadium. Or Voldemort's head. Now there was a thought.
Any elation she felt disappeared when her eyes met Demelza's across the room. For once, however, her erstwhile friend didn't look away. Instead, she downed her drink, crumpled the cup and then strode to her with the kind of hard-won-and-quickly-lost-again determination Ginny knew all too well herself.
It was tempting to run, both the portrait hole and the stairs to her dorms were nearby. But then she'd just have to keep dodging and ignoring Demelza like she'd been doing for months now. And Merlin, she was tired of it all.
So instead she just stood her ground as Demelza approached her, a clumsy pushing and shoving through a crowd slowly losing itself to ecstasy and debauchery. "Ginny, can we talk?"
She wanted to say no, or at the very least sigh or ask 'what do we have to talk about?'. But the world was cruel enough without her adding to it. And Harry would have turned the other cheek too, like he'd done with all who had ridiculed him, but then had slowly come around after his interview with the Quibbler.
She wasn't as good as Harry. But she could try. "Alright. In here? Or—"she winced as a particularly rousing cheer rose from a nearby table as Seamus took off his shirt. "—Or outside?"
"Let's do outside," Demelza said as the shirt flew through the room and landed directly in the fireplace. If its smouldering state at all bothered Seamus, he didn't show it.
The second the portrait hole fell shut behind them, the ruckus was cut off and with it, both certainty and reckless abandon left Ginny. Already, she regretted stepping out with Demelza and judging by her former friend's face, she was entertaining similar doubts.
Well, Ginny wasn't having none of that. They'd been friends once. "I'm not angry with you, Demelza," she said, intending to reassure her friend with a platitude and then caught in surprise when she realised she'd actually meant it.
"You're not?" Demelza's voice was rich with surprise bordering on disbelief. Ginny could hardly fault her for it.
"Not anymore," she conceded. She'd wanted to break something after Demelza had walked out of the DA Tori had been her first new friend, but Demelza had been a quick and close second. Until she hadn't been.
"I wouldn't hold it against you if you were," Demelza hedged, squirming under Ginny's gaze.
"You were afraid. That's no cardinal sin." But if it had been, perhaps Voldemort could have been stopped before he came to power.
"It feels like it sometimes though," Demelza said, fidgeting with her bracelet.
"We'd all be damned then," Ginny said with a smile. "In case you hadn't heard, the DA's down to bare bones. And everyone in there is afraid too. Except maybe Susan. I think she's too angry to be afraid."
That at least got a chuckle out of Demelza, before she sobered again, a haunted look in her eyes. "Still, I should have stayed."
Ginny couldn't exactly dispute that, so instead she just shrugged. Of course Demelza should have stayed. Everyone should have. And everyone should have hexed Rookwood the second he'd walked inside Hogwarts. But it was what it was.
"The door's still open," Ginny said when the silence became unbearable. She wouldn't hope. She couldn't. And yet… if Demelza were to come back, she could forgive it all. They'd be friends again. It would be good. Only when it became a possibility, did Ginny realise just how badly she'd wanted—no, needed—this.
But then Demelza shook her head and whatever hope Ginny had had, came plummeting to the ground. "I'm sorry Ginny, I can't. So many people are already dead. I can't be the next one."
It shouldn't sting. She'd written Demelza off before. Yet somehow, it hurt. It hurt so incredibly much.
"You mean, you won't be the next one," Ginny said coolly. "No one wants to be the next one. No one should be the next one. But somehow always will be. Merlin knows my family knows that better than anyone."
She shouldn't resent Demelza, but she did. Ginny had lost so many, yet all Weasleys kept fighting. Demelza, despite all her tough talk at the start of the year and all her ostensible regret now.
"Ginny, I'm sorry but—"
"Just leave it be, Demelza. Just leave," Ginny said, looking away.
Angry as she was with her friend, she was even more angry with herself for daring to hope. But she realised as her friend clambered through the portrait hole that she'd just have to make do with the friends and allies she had right now. And they were wonderful: dedicated, ferocious and kind—though rarely at the same time.
She just wished there were more of them.