*I certainly was not brilliant enough to create any of these characters or the universe they live in “ that credit all goes to J.K. Rowling. I merely like to visit her world and play in it.
On Harry’s birthday, Ron and Hermione lay snuggled together on his bed. They’d been entangled with each other for over an hour now. Occasionally he would be moved by the urge to taste her lips, but for the most part they just lay there together. Ron loved the feel of her fingers moving across his face, butterfly soft, as she traced her finger over the bridge of his nose, down his cheeks, across his forehead. It was as if she wanted to memorize the exact shape, tone and position of each one of the freckles of Ron’s face.
He could get lost in the smell of her hair in his nostrils. It was like a special mix of vanilla and honey that he’d never known anywhere else. His hand slid upward from her petite waist and curved outward as it lazily traveled up her back, over her shoulder and into her lovely and uncontrollable mane. Moving back downward, he pulled her even closer. He felt her shift deeper into his embrace and she rested her hand on his chest. He would be her safe haven, he vowed to himself.
Ron was glad that they had this last bit of time together before Harry’s arrival when their attentions would have to turn outward, away from each other, toward the tasks ahead.
Mrs. Weasley was preparing Bill and Fleur’s wedding banquet for the following day when Ginny entered the room. She had been in her room for most of the day. She wordlessly began to help her mother with the preparations.
When she and Ron returned to the Burrow, Ginny had kept mostly to herself. Then, when Hermione arrived, and she and Ron became so wrapped up in each other that they’d seemed to merge into a single organism, Ginny retreated even more. Mrs. Weasley glanced up at her only daughter trying to keep her face neutral. “Are those two still up there?” Ginny only nodded briefly, never lifting her eyes to her mother’s. Mrs. Weasley had heard about Harry and Ginny’s breakup from Ron when they’d gotten home. Hermione had provided only slightly more details.
At the moment, the Burrow was the quietest it had been in ages, what with the twins being gone and the remaining occupants being “engaged.” Mrs. Weasley was aware of Ron and Hermione’s new status and their decisions to join Harry. She meant to let them have whatever time together that they could “ Merlin only knew what they would be facing. Anyway, she was sure that they both respected her enough to keep their behavior reasonably proper. If they didn’t, well, some strategically placed enchantments, recently put on Ron’s and Ginny’s bedrooms would provide the appropriate reminders if they forgot themselves.
She’d been torn between her fiercely protective nature toward her own children and the love that she’d developed toward the young man who had become another son to her. Since she knew that Ron, now an adult, would follow Harry whether she wanted him to or not, it was a moot point. Ginny, however, was quite a different story.
She considered Ginny more carefully. As much as Mrs. Weasley loved Harry Potter, Ginny was her baby. She wanted to think that the breakup was for the best and that he was doing the right thing by trying to protect Ginny, but the sadness in her daughter’s eyes were more than enough of an argument to the contrary. And, was Ginny really any safer at Hogwarts, if it even reopened and which they now knew could be breached? No one was really safe anywhere. Even if they weren’t physically together, Mrs. Weasley knew that Harry still loved Ginny, of that she was sure. Call it a mother’s intuition. He couldn’t hide it from Ginny’s family, so Voldemort would easily pick up on those feelings. Harry’s reputation as an Occlumens was poor to put it mildly. Yet, knowing what she did, Mrs. Weasley also knew that they had to figure it out for themselves. However, a little nudge in the right direction never hurt anyone, did it?
She cleared her throat. “Ginny, dear, have you decided how you’ll wear your hair tomorrow?”
“No. I guess whatever Phlegm “ I mean Fleur “ wants,” she replied listlessly without looking up from the tiny sandwiches she was assembling.
“Yes, well, I think a nice up-do would be lovely with your dress. Very elegant.”
“Oh, really Mum, who cares anyway? Fleur is the one who has to look nice, not me.”
Mrs. Weasley paused before answering, deciding if she should speak her mind, but then again, when had she ever held her tongue when it came to her own children?
“Well dear, I would think you’d want to look nice for … Harry.”
Ginny stiffened. “Harry’s made it very clear that we can’t be together,” she dropped a small square of cheese from her hands, “so why bother? Why torture either one of us? Anyway, he hasn’t even written to me once. I guess he’s determined to forget about me.” She sighed heavily, picking up a package of crackers.
Moving to stand directly in front of her, Mrs. Weasley grasped Ginny’s face in both of her hands and peered into her eyes. “Ginevra Weasley,” she said gently, “I’ve never known you to be a quitter or a fool. Do you honestly think that given the choice he wouldn’t stay with you? Do you really believe he won’t come back for you as soon as humanly possible? Ginny, he has to do this, no one wants it, but it has to be this way. The question is, would you rather him leave with unpleasant memories of sadness and anger or with beautiful ones of what he has to make it for?”
“Humph, and who says I’ll be waiting?”
Mrs. Weasley just raised an eyebrow as Ginny’s features deflated.
“What if he doesn’t come back? I don’t know if I could bear it if …” she didn’t finish the sentence.
Mrs. Weasley heaved a deep sigh. “All I know, Ginny, is that if it were me, I’d want to give your father a darned good reason to fight his way back to me.”
Ginny took a step back and resumed her work. “Mum, what would you say if I wanted to go with him and he agreed?”
Mrs. Weasley moved over to the stove and started waving her wand slowly over a pot. She took a long time to answer then spoke up. “I remember when You-Know-Who was rising to power the first time. People were doing all sorts of rash and crazy things: running off to get married, leaving the country to hide until it was all over, other things. But, some people chose to stand up and fight even though it meant almost certain death...
Molly was in the sitting room, knitting, and the children peacefully asleep upstairs, when Arthur entered the house.
“Molly,” he said, “there’s been a report…”
“What is it, Arthur, dear?” She looked up from her crafting to find her husband wringing his hat in his hands, eyes cast down toward the floor. “Arthur?”
He finally looked up at her, his face wounded, “Molly, it’s Fabian and Gideon. A report came in at the Ministry. They’ve been…killed. Witnesses said five Death Eaters…”
Dropping her yarn and needles, her hands flew to her mouth, stifling a scream as she crumpled out of the chair and landed in a heap on the floor.
“So, once I lost my brothers…I’ve tried my hardest to keep all you children from getting involved, but with a family full of Gryffindors, it hasn’t been easy. You are all so brave, each in your own way, even Percy misguided as he is, and now almost all of you are involved in the Order, taking part in the fight. I’m terrified for you all, but I’m also so very proud of you as well…” She paused, misty-eyed, still remembering how she and Arthur had argued after they’d left the school the night of Dumbledore’s death. “So, in answer to your question, I’d absolutely forbid you to go and I’d insist that you finish school and let Harry do what he needs to. That being said, if you both decide that you should join him, I’m fairly certain that I won’t be able to stop you. You’re my daughter after all. Your father and I have been discussing the possibility since you and Ron came home. Actually there’s been a bit of shouting involved. Anyway, I won’t have you running off and leaving on bad terms. Not like…so I’ll support you whatever your decision is. I’ll put as many protective enchantments as I can around the lot of you, certainly some chastity charms, and…”
Ginny eagerly interrupted, “Mum, will you help me with my hair tomorrow?”
Mrs. Weasley smiled. “Yes, dear.”