Drinny FF

Chapter 28

The war was over, but the world around me still felt shattered.

The sky above Hogwarts was streaked with the smoky remnants of battle, and the air was heavy with the cries of the wounded and grieving. I walked through the wreckage in a daze, my limbs aching and my head spinning from the chaos of the last few hours. It was hard to believe that only hours ago, the castle had been filled with the sounds of clashing spells, screams, and explosions. Now, the silence was deafening.

I wasn't sure what I was looking for, or where I was going, but my feet carried me forward as though they had a mind of their own. I passed groups of students and families huddled together, their faces tear-streaked and hollow. Survivors. Just barely.

And then, I saw her.

Ginny Weasley was kneeling in the midst of the rubble, her red hair hanging loose and wild, her body trembling as she bent over the still form of her brother—Fred. I froze, my heart seizing in my chest. She was crying, her sobs wracking her small frame as she clutched at Fred's lifeless body. The sight of her there, broken and grief-stricken, shattered something inside me.

I swallowed hard, my feet dragging me closer to her. She didn't notice me at first—her world was entirely consumed by the loss of her brother. I wanted to say something, to reach out to her, but the words caught in my throat.

Before I could speak, Ginny's parents appeared from the crowd, and the moment shifted. Mrs. Weasley gasped when she saw her daughter, rushing forward to kneel beside her. Mr. Weasley stood back, his face pale and grim.

Molly: Ginny.

Mrs. Weasley whispered, her voice thick with grief. She reached out to pull her daughter into her arms, but when Ginny looked up, her eyes swollen and red, there was no warmth in Mrs. Weasley's gaze. Only anger. Only blame.

Molly: This is your fault!

Mrs. Weasley cried suddenly, her voice cracking.

Molly: If you hadn't—if you hadn't been with him, with that boy—

Her voice faltered as she glanced over Ginny's shoulder, spotting me standing a few steps behind her. Her face twisted in disgust.

Ginny flinched, her tear-streaked face paling. "

Ginny: Mum… please.

Ginny whispered, her voice barely audible.

Molly: No, don't you 'Mum' me!

Mrs. Weasley's voice rose.

Molly: He's a Death Eater, Ginny! You—You betrayed your family for him. And now… now Fred is gone!

Her words were cutting, vicious, each one like a slap to the face.

Mr. Weasley stood silent, his eyes clouded with sorrow as he watched his wife berate their daughter. He didn't speak, but the look in his eyes was enough—he was broken, and the fracture in his family only deepened the wound.

Ginny shook her head, her tears flowing even faster now.

Ginny: No, I didn't… I didn't betray anyone. I love him.

Mrs. Weasley's face twisted with anger and pain, and she took a step back, recoiling as if Ginny had struck her.

Molly: Love? You call this love?

She gestured wildly to Fred's body.

Molly: Look at what this war has done to us, Ginny. To your brother. And you… you let him into your heart? How could you?

Ginny crumpled, her sobs growing louder as she looked down at Fred's still face.

Ginny: I didn't want this. I never wanted this.

My heart broke at the sight of her, but I felt frozen, powerless to stop the pain swirling around us. And yet, a deep part of me knew that he had to do something. I couldn't just stand there while Ginny was torn apart by her own family.

Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward, my voice low but steady.

Draco: I'll take her away.

My words quiet yet cutting through the chaos.

Draco: If she stays, you'll only hurt each other more.

Ginny looked up at me, her tear-filled eyes wide with confusion and pain. Her parents said nothing, and for a moment, Draco wondered if they even cared anymore. Mrs. Weasley turned away, her body shaking as she wept. Mr. Weasley gave a single, slow nod, meeting my gaze.

Draco: Ginny.

I whispered, holding out my hand to her.

She hesitated, glancing back at Fred's body one last time before looking at her parents. The rejection from her own family was palpable, and it cut deeper than any physical wound she had suffered during the battle. Slowly, with trembling fingers, she reached out and took my hand.

As we walked away, Ginny leaned against me, her body weak from exhaustion and grief. I held her close, my mind racing. I had to get her away from this place. Somewhere safe. Somewhere she wouldn't be reminded of the pain.