071.

[7thborn]

Comments

[oneminutemaze]

[ There aren't enough words in either of her favorite languages for how much this all hurts. The disappearances first, two friends, one of them maybe her best friend in the City -- gone, and she might never see them again. Then the people they left behind, George without his twin again and drunk, Ginny with two brothers who have lost Fred a second time, without a roommate (and she didn't know, but now she does), and now without Harry. She doesn't know what to do, doesn't know how to help any of them, and she feels helpless in a way she doesn't think she's ever felt before (and if she has, well, it had been a dream). She feels like she's going to be sick, and without noticing, she's curled her fingers around to feel the scar on her hand. What does she do? What can she do?

She doesn't know. She doesn't even realize her network device is on, recording the silence of someone staring at a post in shock (though it isn't silence, there's the quiet rustle of Waffle's wings in the background) until she swears, loudly, and in French-- ] Fils

[7thborn]

[What they don't know, what none of them know is that she was there when he left. And some might think that's better, but Ginny's helplessness came in the form of saying silent goodbyes, knowing that she couldn't go with Harry but he'd asked and she tried. A sickening finality, really, no sense of true closure because she hadn't spoken all those bottled-up words. Just her hand being held by his one second, then cold and empty the next. She'd said farewell to Claire, too, but to a world she couldn't walk into. And Fred, nothing. No words, just a portrait. Twice he's left her in the City, thrice for Harry. She's tired of mourning a brother still alive in her mind because she hasn't lived the death and the true loss. She's tired of understanding the Chosen One's unasked-for duties to their world.

She's tired of passing on the grim news to the network. Even so, this is perhaps the most sincere response she's given today.]

I'm sorry, Ariadne.

[oneminutemaze]

[ There's no response for a while. Ariadne has blueprints and sketches in her room, details given to her by Fred, some sketches hanging up in Harry's room -- but more are here, and she can't look at them right now, but she can't stop herself from looking as she takes them and puts them away. She's never walked that castle but she knows it now, and maybe someday she'll decide to give the blueprints to Tony anyway, but not right now.

Her eyes linger on her trashcan for a moment, the replacement Harry had gotten her after vanishing hers, and she catches sight of something. Her hand goes to her phone, and she doesn't send her message in text, hands and voice shaking. ]

They made it look like two people are having sex on my trash can.

[ One last practical joke that she'll never be able to yell at them for. ]

[7thborn]

They-what?

[Oh, Merlin, she can't do this talking thing. She's too raw, too open, too vulnerable and it curls her stomach. That fierce, pounding need to be That Weasley Girl thrums through her core; strong, proud, stubborn, unfaltering. Don't let them see the cracks, don't let them pry them apart to get to your heart. The Carrows will use it, the other side will use it, and you'll lose them all.

Ginny snaps off the audio and falls back to text on her end.]

What is it?

[greding]

[George is at her place when she gets back. Actually, he never really left. He's sober, although still looking pretty worse for wear. He's sitting on her sofa, arms wrapped around himself, and he gives her a broken smile.]

Evening.

[7thborn]

[She had been hoping George would be gone, or asleep, by the time she returned to her flat. Ginny falters in the doorway, keys in one hand and broom in the other, sand tossed through her impossibly long and tangled hair-and she thinks about turning around and leaving. But she can't and she shouldn't, not with her brother right here and the news out to the entire City. He knows by now. Of course he does.

She releases a slow breath and shuts the door behind her, gaze averted as she shrugs out of her winter things.]

Hi. [Her voice is faint, a bit rough and smoky, like she's been crying. But she dares him to call her out on it.] Feeling better?

[greding]

No.

[Not much point in lying. He stands and wanders over the lean on the wall across from her, not getting too close. He knows how Ginny needs her space in times like this.]

You went flying?

[7thborn]

I always go flying.

[The words come out in an irritable mutter, defenses raising as he moves towards her, but the tightness in her chest lessens a little when she sees he's going to let her have room to breathe. Ginny hangs up her coat, loosens her scarf, and brushes past him to make her way down the hall to her bedroom. She can't talk, it wears her out as much as this whole week has, but she doesn't close or lock her door behind her. So if George feels like following, he can.

Flying gives her time to think, but it also gives her time to focus on nothing else but the feel of the broom under her and the sharp, cold wind in her face. Her brothers may drink to cope with all this, but she'll fly until her hands are rubbed raw and when walking on the ground feels unsteady and wrong. Just like now.]

[threadthefire]

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[alwaysadoe]

I much prefer the curses.

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[7thborn]

[Oh, Merlin. Harry's mother. They'd barely gotten any time together, less than they deserved.]

Me too. I'm so sorry, Lily.

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[alwaysadoe]

[No they hadn't gotten a quarter of the time she'd wanted but that hardly seems to matter here.]

It's certainly none of your doing. I know you wanted him here as much as I. He's got a life at home and the war is over. Maybe he'll return to something that gets better.

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[7thborn]

Professor McGonagall said as much, if it helps.