Chapter Text
If Ginny Weasley had known she would have had to defend her childhood home against Death Eaters on the day of her eldest brother’s wedding, she would have worn more sensible shoes. But, she didn’t have time to think about the what-ifs and should-haves. What was briefly a beautiful reception, full of love and life, had dissolved into chaos after Kingsley’s patronus had let the wedding guests know that the Ministry of Magic had fallen.
They are coming.
Kingsley’s severe words played over and over in Ginny’s head as she ducked out of the way of a flash of red light. Slightly safer behind one of the overturned tables, Ginny pulled out her wand and started firing every hex she could remember at the hooded figures that seemed to multiply by the minute, disregarding the rules regarding underage magic. The Ministry had fallen and she seriously doubted Tom would be worrying about little Ginny Weasley performing magic outside of school. She paused after sending a particularly nasty jinx, which caused the victim’s skin to erupt with undetectable paper-cuts, to survey the damage.
Most of her spells hadn’t found targets, but a few of them had hit judging by a couple of crumpled masked figures. She stole a glance across the tent to the table that Harry (who’d been pretending to be one of her cousins, unfortunately) had been sitting at moments before Kingsley’s patronus had arrived. He was, as expected, thankfully gone. Ginny knew Hermione had been preparing for something like this - packing and repacking her small beaded bag every hour or so. The three of them were probably miles away from this destruction by now. Ginny only wished she could have said good-bye, perhaps stolen one more kiss from Harry. She didn’t know when or where, or even if she would see any of them again.
Pulling herself together, she surveyed the rest of the tent. Though jets of light were still soaring through the air, sometimes hitting a solitary hooded figure, others hitting a formally dressed wedding guest, all the magic that had permeated the atmosphere a mere hour ago had vanished. She saw Fleur and Bill, backs pressed against each others, dueling two Death Eaters. Fleur’s elaborate hairstyle had fallen and Bill looked more scarred than ever. She saw her mother narrowly miss a flash of purple light and Charlie send a hex straight back. Her father appeared to be tending to Fred, who was bleeding. Lupin and Tonks were casting shield charms furiously.
“Now, now,” said a cold voice from the entrance to the tent, “is that how you treat your wedding guests?”
Severus Snape stepped further into the tent towards the Weasleys and what remained of the Order. Three separate stunning spells were sent in his direction, but he lazily blocked them. George and another Order member sent two more stunners, but again, Snape blocked them, though this time his eyes fixed on his attackers.
“There will be no need for that. No more pureblood needs to be spilt, as long as everyone...cooperates.”
They’re looking for Harry.
“Where’s Potter?” asked a still hooded Death Eater, Ginny didn’t recognize their voice.
“Not here,” Lupin replied calmly, “We haven’t seen or heard from him since term ended.”
“Then,” continued Snape, “You would let us speak to your youngest son? I know he and Mr. Potter are quite attached.”
The Weasleys didn’t speak. Ginny dared not even breath from her hiding place. She knew that Ron and Hermione had concocted various stories to keep their families safe and unlinked to Harry, but what if they weren’t ready? What if they weren’t good enough?
“Though,” continued Snape, “I don’t see him here. Nor do I see your youngest daughter, whom, if I’m not mistaken is Mr. Potter’s girlfriend, isn’t that right Mr. Malfoy?”
Ginny’s blood ran cold. Draco Malfoy, who’d been lurking at the edge of the tent, removed his hood, fingers shaking. He looked, if possible, more pale and more sickly than he had all last term. He’d lost whatever swagger he’d had the night he’d let all the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Ginny was briefly reminded that he was just a boy, barely of age, in way too over his head. But she banished that thought from her mind when he spoke.
“Yeah,” said Draco, his voice cracking, “They got together last term. Disgusting, the pair of them.”
Without even thinking, Ginny stood up from her hiding place violently, “Are you daft, Malfoy? Harry and I broke up ages ago.”
The lie fell easily from her lips, as though she knew this was her job the entire time. That thought alone made her emit a harsh laugh.
“He didn’t want me after all! I was just a silly challenge, best mate’s sister and all that,” the lie felt thick in her mouth, but she kept going, “He chucked me. Didn’t want to be tied down, being the ‘Chosen One’ or something of that sort.”
Ginny refused to look towards her family. She hoped their fear and determination could mask their shock that she’d dated the boy they thought of as a second child, a second brother. Of all her siblings, only Ron had known. And he’d promised to keep it a secret. At the time, Ginny had had grand fantasies about asking her mum if her boyfriend could visit the Burrow and telling her father that she wanted to introduce him to her new boyfriend, only to have them discover her boyfriend was actually the friend they’d been expecting to visit Ron. She couldn’t wait for Fred and George to take the mickey out of him and her. She could almost hear Charlie and Bill trying to scare Harry. But, that was then, before the war was really a war. Before, when weddings were safe and Harry was still her boyfriend.
As soon as they found Dumbledore’s body, some unconscious part of Ginny knew that their relationship would have to end. She knew Harry, who’d lost so many people, couldn’t bear to put her in danger. She understood his reasoning, in fact, if she were in the same position, she might even do the same. But, it wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t she go with them and help take down Voldemort. She after all, was the closest link to Tom after Harry, having spent a year entwined with his teenage self.
“And my brother didn’t go with him!” Ginny continued, “He was pretty peeved with how Harry ended things with me.”
“As heartbreaking as your story is Miss Weasley,” said Snape, who looked anything but moved by Ginny’s story, “I find it hard to believe that your brother would miss your eldest brother’s wedding.”
No one spoke. No one dared breathe.
“He’s upstairs,” Mrs. Weasley’s voice finally broke the deadly silence, “He’s ill, with Spattergroit. Has been all summer.”
Snape turned his attention to Ginny’s mum and stared her down, hard. Ginny expected her mum to look away, but she didn’t. Ginny had seen all her mum’s stares: the ‘I know you’re lying,’ the ‘who broke this dish,’ the ‘what on earth did you do, Fred and George,’ but none of those compared to the look she was giving Snape. Mrs. Weasley stared down Snape with a cold fury, a look so fierce that men much greater than Snape would have turned into dust. Ginny was equally proud of and terrified for her mum. She wasn’t an idiot. She knew what Snape was doing, digging through her mother’s mind as though it was his own Hogwarts school trunk, like he had done to Harry back in her fourth year. At least Harry had some rudimentary training in Occlumency, her mum surely wasn’t prepared for Snape’s assault on her memories.
Ginny started to shake. How long could her mum hold him off? How long could they both just stare at each other? She wanted to scream, tell her mum to look away, but that all but admitted they were guilty.
“We’ll be checking that,” Snape said finally, “Amycus, Alecto - check upstairs. Rabastan, Rodolfus - go with them. Search the house.”
Two of the Death Eaters Ginny recognized from the night Dumbledore died stepped forward and began lumbering towards the house, followed by two Black men Ginny recognized from the wanted posters.
“Now, the rest of you,” Snape said turning to the remaining wedding guests, “We’ve got some additional questions…”
Ginny’s heart sank. Her anti-Harry performance hadn’t been good enough. She looked around at who remained: her mother and father, Bill, Fleur, Charlie, Fred, George, Lupin, Tonks, and a few Order members she didn’t know well. Plus a few wedding guests who hadn’t managed to escape before the Death Eaters had broken through all the protective enchantments and wards. She watched as the rest of the Death Eaters approached the remaining guests; sometimes disarming them, other times just hitting them with the Cruciatus curse. It all seemed rather rehearsed, like they knew who would be there and who needed to be questioned.
“Expelliarmus,” Malfoy’s familiar, drawling voice startled Ginny, as her wand flew out of her hand, “You’re with me, Weasley.”
He approached her warily, but grabbed her arm and led her to one of the tables at the edge of the tent. Ginny tried to squirm out of Malfoy’s grasp, but his hand clung too tightly to her wrist. Ginny knew she should be scared, and she was a little bit. But, there was a strange familiarity about the situation. It was almost like being back at Hogwarts, back in Umbridge’s office. If she could just get her wand back…
“Sit,” said Malfoy as he threw her into one of the chairs, “I’ve got a few questions for you.”
“Wow,” said Ginny sarcastically, “They’re actually letting you do the questioning? After you mucked up your last task?”
Malfoy flinched but didn’t say anything and Ginny felt a twinge of disappointment - she’d expected a bigger reaction.
“Where’s Potter?”
“You’ve already asked that. I don’t know.”
“The truth, Weasley.”
“I haven’t seen him since he dumped me last term.”
“What’s he told you?”
“Nothing.”
Ginny could see Malfoy getting increasingly annoyed with her. Perhaps he thought that since she was the youngest, she’d be the easiest, perhaps the first to crack. Well, bully for him. He should have remembered not to underestimate her - particularly after what had happened to him in at the end of his 5th year.
“Where’s he gone?”
“Rephrasing the question will not change my answer, Malfoy. I don’t know. And I don’t care.”
“Well isn’t that the biggest load of dragon dung. The girl, who spent her first year, when she wasn’t doing the Dark Lord’s bidding, trailing after stupid Potter, doesn’t care about him? Don’t make me laugh, Weasley.”
Without thinking, Ginny raised her arm. But, before she could slap or punch Malfoy, he caught her wrist, glaring at her. He raised his wand.
“Crucio.”
Ginny was hit with white hot, blinding pain and her mind was wiped blank. Her world was gone - she had no idea who she was or where she was. All she knew was pain. She’d never felt anything like it before, worse than any Quidditch injury. It was like her insides were on fire and her skin was frozen solid. Her body screamed in agony; she screamed in agony. And then, as suddenly as it started, it stopped. Ginny took gulping breaths of air and was vaguely aware of familiar voices shouting and white blonde hair above her.
“Don’t try that again, Weasley,” Malfoy’s face swam into focus and Ginny tried her best to glare at him.
Ginny realized she’d fallen out of her chair when Malfoy’s curse hit her. She tried to prop herself into a more dignified sitting position and adjust her dress as discreetly as possible. Earlier she’d felt a beautiful swooping sensation when Harry had looked in her direction. Now, as Malfoy leered at her in her beautiful, ruined golden dress, she felt dirty. Malfoy reached for her wrist and pulled her back into her chair.
“So he chucked you?”
“Yeah,” said Ginny, still a little out of breath.
“Not as big of an idiot as he looks. Never understood why half the school fancied you.”
Ginny wanted to laugh and roll her eyes at Malfoy’s new tactic to get Harry’s location out of her, but settled for glaring back at him, trying to steady her heartbeat.
“We finished searching the house, Snape,” the four Death Eaters had re-appeared at the mouth of the tent.
Ginny held her breath. Did their ghoul in disguise work?
“And?” Snape asked lazily at the opposite end of the tent with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley.
“No sign of Potter anywhere,” replied Alecto.
“And what about the youngest son?” asked Snape, almost bored.
“She was telling the truth. It looks nasty. Didn’t want to get to close, but it’s definitely him,” replied Rabastan.
“Very well,” said Snape, who suddenly gripped his left forearm.
Malfoy mirrored Snape’s movement and looked alarmed.
The Death Eaters began Disapparating one-by-one. Malfoy chucked Ginny’s wand back at her and muttered something about seeing her at school before he too got out of his chair and turned on the spot.
“And you’ll be sure to let us know if Mr. Potter turns up,” said Snape, “He’s wanted for… questioning.”
“Like hell he is,” George snapped, “Questioning for what?”
Snape turned around, his unnerving smirk lighting up his whole face, “The murder of Albus Dumbledore, of course.”
And with a swish of his robes, Snape Disapperated. Bill, who was closest to Ginny, rushed over and squeezed her shoulder.
“Are you okay?”
“Fine,” muttered Ginny, “I’m fine, really.”
Ginny wasn’t sure if she was fine, but this is how it was now. She wanted to help, and if she couldn’t pull herself together after being hit by a Cruciatus curse cast by a just turned seventeen year old, she was of no use to the Order.
“Everyone, in the house. Now.” Mr. Weasley whispered.
Ginny didn’t dare disobey, and held back her questions. She followed her father back into the house, where her brothers and Remus and Tonks shuffled around the table, conjuring extra chairs where necessary. Her mum began conjuring tea and biscuits for everyone. Apart from the occasional muttered ‘thank you’ as a steaming mug of tea appeared, no one spoke. Charlie twiddled his thumbs and Fred and George didn’t even look towards their mother as she held up the biscuit tin. Lupin was rubbing Tonks’ back, while Tonks looked at her cup of tea as though she wanted to curse it into a thousand pieces. Fleur, in her ripped and singed wedding dress, moved to Mrs. Weasley’s side as she started frying up sausages.
“Let me do zat,” Fleur said, trying to take the spatula from Mrs. Weasley.
“No, no, sit down, dear,” said Mrs. Weasley, avoiding Fleur’s grasping hands.
“Molly, Fleur,” Mr. Weasley finally spoke, “Both of you, please sit.”
Mr. Weasley conjured a comfortable, squashy chair for his wife next to him and only when Mrs. Weasley made to move towards it did Fleur go back to her own chair.
“Dad, what did Snape mean they wanted Harry for the questioning of Dumbledore’s murder?” asked Fred.
Mr. Weasley sighed, “You have to understand, no one really knows what happened up on the Astronomy tower.”
“Yes we do,” said George, “Snape killed Dumbledore. Harry told us!”
“And we believe Harry, the Ministry however… well, we have our spies and they have theirs.”
“Hang on,” said Charlie after swallowing a gulp of tea, “Were there actually people at the Ministry who didn’t believe Harry’s story?”
“Well it doesn’t matter does it,” Ginny had finally gotten her heart to stop racing, “You heard Kingsley. The Ministry has fallen.”
“Exactly,” Mr. Weasley continued, “The Death Eaters and the Ministry are one in the same at this point. We cannot count on the Ministry’s protection any more - obviously,” he looked forlornly out at the destroyed marquee where his eldest son had gotten married mere hours ago.
“But what does this have to do with wanting Harry for questioning?” Fred asked again.
“Well, for the most part, Harry is a respected young man. You-Know-Who and his followers now have the difficult task of convincing the entire Wizarding World that he’s not. I suppose they’ve decided to blame the death of Dumbledore on… Harry.”
“How could--” Ginny began, but was quickly cut off by the thunderous roars of her brothers.
“That’s mental,” the twins cried in unison.
“Who in their right mind would believe that load of rubbish?” asked Charlie.
“Surely this is just the Death Eaters taking over the Ministry, right Dad?” said Bill.
“Well, that’s who must have started it - as there was no official word on questioning Harry when Scrimgeour was Minister. But, there were whispers - whether they were planted by spies or not, well, we cannot say.”
The Weasleys and the rest of the Order fell silent as they let this sink in. Once again, they were alone in this war. The active fight against Voldemort would once again be drawn back into the shadows. The Ministry would feign indifference. Ginny couldn’t help but wonder if there was this much hopelessness last time Tom had risen to power. Perhaps not, Dumbledore had still been alive. Everything seemed so much more hopeful when Dumbledore was running the Order; like living in a fairytale book. Ginny had just always assumed that good would vanquish evil and they’d all live happily ever after. War wasn’t fun, but it had never felt like war before Dumbledore had died, before a classmate performed an Unforgivable curse on her without blinking. Sure, she’d felt it in flashes - when Sirius had fallen through the veil, when Bellatrix Lestrange suggested torturing her in the Department of Mysteries, when her father had been attacked by Tom’s snake. But, going to the Ministry to save Sirius, fighting the Death Eaters at Hogwarts - those had been grand adventures. She had felt useful. Now, she felt just as small as she had waking up in the Chamber.
War was definitely here now. The smoking wedding marquee and Harry’s disappearance were proof of that. Would they get out of this? Her family was much too large and too noble and too involved in the Order not to have any casualties. George’s ear and Bill’s scars were proof of that. Ron still had faint pockmarks on his arm from his run-in with the brains in the Department of Mysteries. Her father aged 10 years in 2, ever since his encounter with Tom’s massive snake. And now even she, so carefully guarded by her mother and father, her brothers, and the Chosen One himself, was not unaffected by war. Though she had scars from Tom before the war, her scars that were not visible, often forgotten.
“At least there’s one silver lining,” said George bitterly, “Scrimgeour didn’t tell them Harry was here did he? Otherwise we’d all be dead.”
“He might have had faults, but he wasn’t a coward. And he wasn’t about bend to You-Know-Who, no matter what his opinions of Harry were,” said Mr. Weasley.
“Where do you think they went?” Ginny finally asked, “Harry, Ron, and Hermione?”
Remus sighed, but said nothing. Tonks slipped her hand under the table to find her husband’s. Remus shifted slightly and brought his hands to his temples. Tonks’ hand changed directions and rubbed his shoulder.
“We don’t know,” said Bill, “Did he ever say anything to you, Gin?”
Ginny shook her head. She knew why Harry hadn’t told her where (not that she would have bent under pressure, even with the Cruciatus curse), but the fact that she, Harry’s girlfriend - well, ex-girlfriend - was as in the dark as everyone else still hurt.
“We should send them a message, so they know we’re safe,” said Charlie, “You know what Harry’s like, if he thinks anything’s happened…” Charlie trailed off, but held his gaze on Ginny.
“But make sure they don’t reply,” said Remus quickly, “We’re most definitely being watched.”
Mr. Weasley nodded and pulled out his wand. He muttered something under his breath and seconds later a silver blur shot out of his wand and out into the garden.
“We should go,” said Remus, “We need to check on Tonks’ parents.”
Mr. Weasley nodded and without another word Remus and Tonks headed through the kitchen door, out into the yard, and disapperated immediately.
“Ginny,” said Bill quietly, though everyone was listening.
Ginny waited for her eldest brother’s inevitable questioning. How long have you and Harry been dating? When did this happen? How did this happen? Why did this happen? Why didn’t you tell any of us?
But Bill either didn’t know what exactly he wanted to say or how he wanted to phrase it. He stood there, jaw tense, his scars prominent, unable to form words to questions the entire family was asking. Ginny couldn’t decide whether she should take pity on him and answer what she knew to be his questions, or let the room continue to fill with heavy, suffocating thoughts. She stared at her fingernails, chipping away at the shimmering paint that matched her dress. Eventually, when she too began to choke on the unspoken questions, she decided to put Bill out of his misery.
“I suppose you want to know,” said Ginny, quietly, “When Harry and I got together.”
“Why didn’t you tell us Ginny?” asked her mother, “He’s practically family; we wouldn’t love him any less if he was your boyfriend…”
“It was after we won the Quidditch cup. I was planning on writing you once exams were over - to see if I could bring my boyfriend home for the summer holidays, but then Dumbledore died. And we broke up.”
Ginny tried to keep her voice even as she simplified her and Harry’s anything-but-simple story. She tried to detach herself from the two happy Hogwarts students in her memories; the kids who spent lunches by the lake, who snuck around the castle in lieu of studying for exams well into the night. But something about relaying their story to her family, made their break-up seem all the more real. Her heart grew heavier and heavier. Ginny could feel small pricks beginning to form behind her eyes, but she was Ginny Weasley -- and Ginny Weasley did not cry over boys, not even Harry Potter.
“I think I’ll go to bed,” she said rising and making her way towards the stairs.
“Wait, Ginny,” he father also rose, “I want to make sure they haven’t left anything sinister.”
Mr. Weasley followed his daughter up to the first floor landing and into her small bedroom. The Death Eaters had left it an absolute mess. Books were pulled from their shelves and thrown across the room. Her two posters - one of Gwenog Jones and the other of The Weird Sisters had been ripped off the walls. She could see Gwenog’s eye winking at her next to her foot. Her belongings that had littered the desk had been swept off and onto the floor. Her bed was mussed and her pillows were slashed. Though she’d left her room a bit of a disaster after she and Hermione had finished getting ready for the wedding, that mess had felt homey and comfortable. This new mess felt cold and empty. Ginny sighed - even her own bedroom was no longer safe from war.
Mr. Weasley began waving his wand - checking for traps left by the Death Eaters. Ginny raised her wand to assist, but Mr. Weasley shook his head and continued casting spells. After a few minutes of nothing happening, Mr. Weasley waved his wand once more, only this time, the room began to right itself. The posters were mended and they re-adhered themselves to the wall. The pillows healed and the bed was remade. The books were sent back onto their shelves and her belongings danced back onto her desk.
“I’m not very good with cleaning charms,” said Mr. Weasley, “You might want to ask your mum to come up tomorrow and help you. She can get the books to alphabetize themselves, don’t know quite how she does it.”
Ginny nodded, but her father still hadn’t moved to go back downstairs.
“Are you alright Ginny?”
“I’m fine dad. Malfoy’s not that great at the Cruciatus curse yet.”
“No, I meant - are you alright about things ending with Harry?”
Ginny blinked, unsure what to say. To be honest, she never really thought about Harry ending things as, well, Harry actually ending things. No, this was a necessity of war. A sad necessity, but if their kiss on his birthday had been any indication, when all was said and done, they’d get back together. Everything would go back to the way things were before Dumbledore’s death. When all they had were sunlit days. But, Harry had ended things. And even if they both made it out alive - which with every passing second, Ginny was beginning to believe less and less - who’s to say they could just pick up where they left off? Ginny suddenly felt foolish.
“I’m not sure,” she finally answered.
Mr. Weasley nodded slowly and pulled his daughter close. He tried to hug away her sadness, her fears, and everything bad in the world. And though they weren’t, Ginny felt a little safer, and a little more hope.