Chapter 2 - Delicate Distractions
May 6, 1998
Dad and Bill anticipated it being only a week until the Burrow was safe enough for everyone to return to. But Ginny felt that was still entirely too long. Aunt Muriel just couldn't help herself it seemed. The onslaught of critiques ranged from Ginny's posture, to her attitude, to Charlie's choice in career, to Ron's decision to stay at Bill's with Harry and Hermione instead of "the rest of his real family."
Muriel also made the mistake of levying criticism towards Fred late in the evening during their second night there after drinking a bit too much Veela-made brandy. Ginny couldn't even remember exactly what the old woman had said, only that she'd said his name with the same casual and dismissive manner in which she'd always talked about them. Ginny had nearly exploded, and would have, if Dad had not abruptly sent everyone from the room to check on either her mum or the others at Shell cottage.
Ginny had grabbed her things and Disapparated immediately for Shell Cottage. She'd trained in Apparition with the twins during their sequester at Muriel's, since she'd been banned from doing so at Hogwarts her sixth year, but she was grimly surprised she'd managed to make it to Bill's that time without splinching herself.
Fleur had welcomed her with solemn understanding, showing her where she could room with Hermione. Ginny couldn't help the pang of guilt that stabbed through her when she remembered how she'd treated Fleur in her home. Mum had stopped by later, briefly making sure that she was alright before offering a half-hearted scolding.
"She can stay 'ere, Molly," Fleur offered gently, still hesitant to come between mother and daughter. "It might do zem some good." She gestured to where Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat outside of the cottage, huddled around a campfire and watching the waves.
Mum had given Ginny a hard look, but relented and thanked Fleur for looking after everyone.
At Shell Cottage, Ginny couldn't help but notice how much the three of them had changed. The past nine months had taken their toll—she had known that, of course—but seeing it firsthand made it real.
Ron was more restless than before, like he was always expecting something to go wrong. His movements were sharper, his laughter less frequent, and there was a wariness in his eyes that hadn't been there before. She often found him watching for Harry and Hermione, as if keeping them in sight was the only thing holding him together.
Still, Ginny could see how he leaned on Hermione, how her presence steadied him. It was clear they had become something different to one another. Something more than just the newly-realized romance she'd observed at Hogwarts after the battle.
Hermione, though quieter than Ginny remembered, still carried that unmistakable spark of determination. But now, it seemed tempered by something softer—an understanding of how fragile things could be. Her words were measured, her actions deliberate, as if every step forward had to be carefully weighed and chosen.
And then there was Harry. Ginny had been worried about him during their months apart, but now that they were back together, she was starting to see just how deeply everything had affected him. He still carried that same stubborn strength, the same fire in his green eyes that she had fallen for, but there was a heaviness to him now, too. He moved with purpose, but sometimes she caught him pausing, his shoulders sagging as though the weight of the past year hadn't quite lifted.
But when Harry looked at her, that heaviness seemed to ease. There was warmth in his gaze, a quiet gratitude that told her he was trying—trying to move forward, trying to heal, and trying to hold on to the life they had been fighting for. They hadn't yet spoken about the last few months. Harry, Ron, and Hermione hadn't said much at all about what they'd been doing.
"It's not a story we want to tell too many times," Ron had told her that first night at Bill's. "It's long and it goes back a ways. We'll tell you—Harry'll tell you—but I think we'd rather just tell it once. We're already going to have to tell Kingsley, too." He shook his head fiercely. "Blimey, I can't believe I'm on a first-name basis with the Minister for Magic."
She didn't find it nearly as amusing.
"Ginny," Ron continued, sensing her apprehension. He touched her arm gently. "He'll tell you—I'll hex him myself if he doesn't—we're just still trying to figure out how, yeah?"
She'd sat up late that night, sipping a cup of slowly-cooling tea. She'd placated the trio with taking the first watch, arguing that between the Fidelius and all of the wards around Shell Cottage no one would be able to find them. Still, the front page of the morning's Daily Prophet article, delivered to them via Percy from Muriel's, gave her enough reason to placate their worries:
The Dark Mark Still Lingers:
Ministry Faces Daunting Task in Pursuit of At-Large Death Eaters
By Reginald Amorim, Security Correspondent
While the defeat of Lord Voldemort has brought an undeniable sense of relief to the wizarding world, the battle is far from over. Several high-ranking Death Eaters remain at large, and their capture is now one of the foremost tasks for the Ministry of Magic. Though Voldemort himself has been vanquished, his dark influence has not been completely eradicated, and the Ministry faces the difficult challenge of dismantling the remnants of his corrupt network.
Among those still evading capture are some of the Dark Lord's most trusted followers, including Corban Yaxley, Thorfin Rowle, Rodolphus Lestrange, Antonin Dolohov, and the notorious Fenrir Greyback. These individuals, along with other scattered members of Voldemort's inner circle, are believed to be operating in the shadows, determined to preserve the twisted ideals of their fallen leader.
Interim Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, addressed the nation today, assuring the public that efforts to locate and apprehend these remaining threats are a top priority.
"The defeat of Voldemort does not mean the end of our fight," Shacklebolt stated. "We must now turn our focus to rooting out those who remain loyal to his cause. The Ministry will not rest until every last Death Eater is brought to justice. We will not allow the darkness to regain its foothold in our society."
Auror Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror Office, echoed this sentiment, emphasizing the complexities involved in tracking down such dangerous individuals.
"The Death Eaters we are pursuing are well-versed in evasion and concealment. Some may already be in hiding outside of Britain, while others are likely embedded within our own communities, attempting to recover and regroup," Robards said. "It will take time, and it will take the collective efforts of every law enforcement officer, Auror, and volunteer who is willing to stand against them."
Robards, who played a key role in the defense of Hogwarts, also confirmed that specialized teams are being formed within the Auror Department to coordinate the search for these fugitives, with an emphasis on intelligence gathering and undercover operations. The wizarding world, it seems, is not free of danger yet, but the Ministry's resolve has never been stronger.
As the search intensifies, it is clear that while Voldemort may be gone, his legacy of fear and division will take time to undo. It is up to the Ministry, the Aurors, and the brave citizens of our world to finish the work that has only just begun.
The article had—fairly, she supposed—set the three of them on edge. Ginny thought things would be different after the battle. Thought there would be time to breathe, thought she and Harry would have quiet moments to themselves; what they'd promised each other in the Great Hall those few days before. She wondered how long it would take for her to no longer be on the outside looking in, for them—for Harry—to let her help with the weight of it.
There was a telltale crack of Apparition as Dad and Bill returned after another long day of working on the Burrow. She had her wand out and ready as they strode through the door, and gave them an expectant look before letting them in any further.
"What nickname did I give you when I was five?" she asked Bill.
"Never did," Bill replied with a tired smirk, his face crinkling against his scars. "I was always too cool."
Satisfied, she lowered her wand and stepped aside to let them pass. Her father clapped Bill affectionately on the back as they moved further inside.
"Tea?" she offered.
"Just a spot," Bill said, dropping heavily into a chair. She poured him a cup and handed it over.
"None for me, thanks," her dad said, waving a hand. His exhaustion was plain in the deep lines around his eyes. "I promised your mother I'd be along to Muriel's shortly. I don't want her to worry."
He pulled Ginny into a tight hug and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She held onto him for a moment, taking in the familiar scent of home, before stepping back.
"Everyone asleep then?" he asked. She nodded. "Good, good. Did we miss anything interesting today?"
Ginny shook her head and frowned. Her father offered a tight-lipped smile, clearly as worried about being uninformed as she was. "Maybe tomorrow then, yeah?"
With a final hug for each of them, he Apparated away, leaving the house quieter than before.
A long sigh from Bill drew her attention.
"Hard day?" she asked.
Bill nodded. "It's coming along fine. It's just…hard." She knew it had little with the physical difficulty of the task.
"I wish you'd let me come and help," she insisted. She wondered if he'd be more receptive to the idea than her dad. "I feel useless sitting around here all day."
"Dad and I don't want anyone else there until we're certain it's safe," Bill said, shaking his head. "And I think you're doing more good here than you realize."
"Yeah, it's great watching everyone sulk quietly," Ginny muttered.
"You're the one who fancies the broody git, don't complain now," Bill said with a sly smirk. He took a sip of his tea and leaned back in his chair.
"I just wish he'd talk to me," she said softly, staring down into her empty cup. "Ron says they're waiting to tell everyone at once. They're still figuring out how to say it all."
"Sounds more like Hermione than Ron, but sure," Bill shrugged and Ginny snorted in agreement. "I think you just being here for them all means more than you know. They were here hiding for a while. You being here helps show them it's over."
"But is it?" Ginny asked, her voice just above a whisper.
"The running and the hiding part is," Bill said. "For all of us. This next part is going to be a different kind of hard. I think now that we're on the other side of the fighting this part feels a lot harder."
She didn't know what to say to that.
"Do you remember when we went to Egypt after your first year?" Bill asked. Her gaze shot up.
"You mean after You-Know-Who possessed me with a diary?" Ginny asked caustically. "No. It slipped my mind."
"Would you let me finish?" Bill rolled his eyes. He leaned forward. "Everyone was still so worried about you. Mum and Dad were going spare trying to figure out how much to hover over you. Do you remember how that part felt?"
She did. She remembered feeling like she couldn't take a step without someone asking her if she was okay or asking how she was doing. She could barely go to the loo on her own.
"You mean how they acted like I was going to shatter into a million pieces if they left me alone for five seconds?" Ginny crossed her arms, her voice sharp, though her expression softened slightly. "Yeah, I remember."
Bill nodded, giving her the space to let her words hang in the air. "Exactly. They were trying so hard to help, to assure you that you were okay—to assure themselves that you were okay—but it wasn't what you needed, was it?"
Ginny sighed, leaning back in her chair. "No, it wasn't. It just made me feel more broken" Like she couldn't even pretend to be okay without someone reminding her she wasn't.
"Right," Bill said quietly. "And that's why I didn't ask. Not once. Not until you were ready."
Ginny looked at him, her sharpness fading into something more thoughtful. "You didn't ask," she repeated slowly, like she was just now realizing how much that had meant. "You just...sat with me."
"Right. No questions. Just company," Bill replied, his tone measured. He spared a glance to the bedrooms upstairs where she knew the others were sleeping. "I knew you didn't want to talk, so I didn't push it. We just explored. You started opening up when you were ready."
Ginny looked down at her hands, remembering back to Bill showing her the hieroglyphics on temple walls, letting her climb rocks to see views their parents would have frowned on, even teaching her some of the curse-breaking basics when she'd asked what it was exactly that he did. He'd treated her like she was normal, not fragile.
Bill nodded, his gaze steady. "And when you were finally ready, you talked for hours. About the diary, about what it felt like, about being scared, and angry at everyone for not noticing, and Harry saving you, and…everything. I didn't have to say much. I just listened."
"You didn't tell me it wasn't my fault," Ginny said quietly, nodding. "You didn't try to fix it or make it better. You just…let me say it." And somehow, that had made it better. Made it feel more manageable. He'd made her feel like she was more than what happened to her, she thought quietly.
"Fleur did that for me, too," Bill admitted softly. "After last year, with Greback." He gestured to his scarred face. "Remus had offered to talk once I was back on my feet but that was the last thing I wanted. Talking made it real. Fleur just…went about like…normal."
"Please don't explain any more about what 'normal' with you and Fleur entails," Ginny said with a smirk.
"Prat," he mumbled, smiling to match. He shook his head. "I wanted to prove I was strong enough to handle what had happened to me all on my own. Fleur helped me realize I didn't need to. Once I accepted that it made talking about it easier."
"You're more than what's happened to you," Ginny repeated softly.
"We're all more than what's happened to us," Bill said firmly. He leaned closer, meeting her eyes. "That's what Harry, Ron, and Hermione need now. They've been through hell, but they don't need anyone dragging it out of them. They need someone who just... sees them. At least until they're ready to talk."
Ginny swallowed hard, the weight of his words settling in. "I think I can do that."
"I know you can," Bill said with a small smile. "You've always been good at meeting people where they are. You don't need to push Harry or the others. Just be there. Let them come to you on their terms."
She nodded, her throat tightening. "I hate seeing them like this," she confessed.
"I know. I do, too. But they're stronger than you think. Just like you were," Bill said.
Ginny gave a small, determined smile. "Alright, then. I'll try it your way."
Bill gave her a weary nod. "And if you still get nowhere tomorrow you can always come find me and we can…be there together."
May 7, 1998
She found Harry standing by Dobby's grave the next morning, staring down at the flowers that he'd conjured around it; wand still grasped in his hand like he was expecting trouble at any moment.
"The Burrow should be ready soon," she said, slipping her hand into his empty one. He nodded, but said nothing in return. She glanced down at the gravemarker. "He was a good friend."
"We wouldn't have made it without him," Harry said. He shook his head and leaned into her, wincing as their shoulders touched. His wand hand reached up to rub at his chest.
Her brow furrowed. "You should let somebody look at that," she said softly. He didn't seem convinced. He never took care of himself. She tried a different tactic. "I know Mum would jump at the chance to worry over you."
Harry frowned and dropped his wand hand back to his side. She saw him glance back towards Shell Cottage, silently counting Ron, Hermione, Fleur, Charlie, and George. His hand tensed in hers and she gave a gentle squeeze.
"Dad and Bill are working on the Burrow," Ginny said, as if sensing his worry. "Percy and Mum are still at Muriel's. I dunno how they can stand it; the woman is a menace."
Harry snorted.
"But seriously," Ginny said. She turned and pulled him to face her. She took his other hand in hers as well, awkward as it was with his wand still gripped tight. "You've been wincing if someone so much as looks at your shoulder too hard."
"I'm fine," he muttered. She rolled her eyes so hard she thought everyone in the house could hear her do it.
"If you say that one more time I'm going to pull your shirt off and fix it myself, you prat," she huffed. He colored at the implication.
Merlin, had they fallen so far back from where they once were?
Ginny stood stiffly for a moment, certain she had buggered something up; certain that she'd said too much, prodded too hard, and pushed him away.
Bill hadn't let on just how difficult it was to be there.
But she kept his hand grasped tightly in hers and leaned gently against him. To at the very least assure him that she wasn't going anywhere. They stood there for a while, clinging to one another. Ginny fought the urge that arose every few minutes to try and drag words out of Harry; she focused instead on the realness, the solidness of the man standing next to her. After months apart, after watching Hagrid carry his body out of the forest, she could wait a little longer.
Next: Chapter 3: Scars and Soliloquies