Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: Through Goblet
Classification: Post-Hogwarts, H/G, Post-HBP
AU
Summary: For years, Ginny Weasley has
tried to bring to an end to her feelings for Harry Potter… she's even uprooted
her life… but what happens when it's time to come face to face with him again?
A post-Hogwarts tale revolving around Ginny's discovery of herself…while coming
to terms with her feelings for Harry.…
Disclaimer: This story is based on
characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers
including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast
Books, and Warner Bros. Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or
trademark infringement is intended.
A/N: Thank you to everyone who has
reviewed so far! The story unfolds…
A/N: This chapter
has been revised as of September 2005.
It
was a spring morning in
It
was a difficult decision.
The
bright sunlight that was pouring through the open window next to her bed was
very appealing and Ginny knew that once she set foot outside, she would want to
take her time walking to school in her favorite weather, the sort that forced
her to wear her light wool cloak and stop for a cup of warm chocolate before
class. However, there was the comfort of her bed… and it was comfortable. Ginny hugged her pillow tightly, burrowing
her face against the cool cotton. It was
truly a difficult decision, she thought, as a fresh breeze came through
the window, washing over her face. Ginny closed her eyes and nestled further…
and decided an extra twenty minutes sleep couldn’t do any harm at all.
But
then—
"OI! Wake up, will
you?! You’ve got school in an hour!"
There was a loud THUD which could only be a fist pounding on her bedroom
door and then—nothing.
Ginny’s
eyes flew open and she saw red. "Thanks!" she yelled throatily to her
thick flat mate. Still exhausted and now moaning in torture, she tried to close
her eyes and relax again, but her heart was pounding from the sudden disruption
and she knew there was no hope. She
flung her covers away, pulled herself into a sitting position and sat miserably
in bed for a good five minutes, contemplating, as she always did, if the
repercussions on her life would be particularly horrible if she were to
perhaps… not go to her morning lesson today. But as always, she shook the
thought from her mind and stumbled out of bed.
Trying
desperately to untangle her ankles from the sheet, Ginny fumbled around her
room, looking for her dressing gown, finding it, and shrugging it on as she
stepped over heaps of clothes and reached for the door. Walking groggily into the parlor and passing
what was definitely not her mess on the sideboard, Ginny pushed through the
door to the tiny kitchen of her flat.
Seated
at the table was a rugged looking wizard Ginny’s own age with messy gold-brown
hair, light blue eyes and a wide, dimpled grin aimed right at her. The wizard was Brian McGuire, her very
platonic flat mate—british, a helpless flirt, and rather brilliant in the art
of linguistics, Brian was not the sort of flat mate Ginny would have guessed
she'd end up with up with in Paris… much less the sort of person she'd ever
become friends with. But she had.
However,
good friend that Brian was, Ginny would never understand his cheerfulness in
the morning so, ignoring the grin and him, she went immediately to the
coffee.
"Sleep
well last night?" Brian quipped.
"Last
night," Ginny said in a clipped tone, her voice cracking from sleep.
"This morning on the other hand…"
Brian
lifted a brow innocently and sipped his coffee.
"Right, remind me to save your lazy arse from being late again.
Correct me if I'm wrong—"
"Shhh,"
she muttered, wincing and drawing her knees up as she slid into a chair. He was so bloody loud in the morning. Ginny
wasn't even awake enough to think, let alone listen to his voice, and as much
as she wanted to retort that he only chose to remember to rouse her at the most
inconvenient times, she didn’t trust her throat to speak yet. She brought the steaming mug to her lips and
as the warm liquid absorbed her, she wondered if in fact coffee had any magical
ingredients hidden inside its grounds.
Ginny
was thankful that Brian didn’t speak for another ten minutes as he sat reading
the Daily Prophet. She could see the
wizarding
"Did
you study for Mermish Composition?" he asked her after a short while,
sipping from his own mug.
Ginny
rubbed her eyes and found her voice. "Yes. I'm still going to fail,
though. You?"
"I'll
study this afternoon."
Ginny
sighed a bit grumpily. "Why
couldn’t I have been in the night class?
I'm the one who needs the extra day to study."
Brian,
knowing her all too well, lifted a brow, his eyes moving steadily over the
article he was reading. "You want me to answer that?"
"No,"
she pouted. "Because if you say
it—"
"Say
what?"
"That
I leave everything to the last minute, including signing up for lessons, and
that's why I never get good lesson times—"
"Then
you'll throw the hot coffee at me," he supplied.
Her lips quirked. "Oh,
yes. It will not be pretty, let me tell
you."
He
finally lifted his eyes from the newspaper and skimmed them over her face. "Can't be any worse than you look right now, love."
Ginny
tried to look put-out but his completely straight face was about to make her
giggle. "Fine. I'm going to get dressed and spare
you from looking at me anymore than you have to."
"Thanks,"
he said gratefully and Ginny shook her head on a laugh as she left the room,
her coffee in tow.
After
dressing in jeans and a sweater, Ginny rummaged around her bedroom, shoving
everything from quills, parchment, ink, and books into her bag and immerging
from her room to find Brian now sitting on the sofa reading the comics and
laughing to himself. Ginny shook her head and blew out
an irritated breath. He’d probably sit
there and read his stupid newspapers all day, forget to study and end up with
an even better mark on the exam than her.
"Good
luck on the exam, love."
"Thanks.
Hey, Bri, this place is a mess. D'you think,
maybe—"
He
let out a bark of laughter at whatever he was reading and on a roll of her
eyes, Ginny left the flat.
The
distance to l’Acadèmie d’Aubervive was short and so
familiar now that Ginny could probably walk there with a blindfold over her
eyes. The university was situated
at the very edge of wizarding
Ginny
had only two lessons today, the first being Educating Trolls:
Advanced. She enjoyed the subject as
much as the next student, but it was difficult to learn because of the
professor. A former Auror, Professor
Andel was an abnormally large wizard (there was rumor going round the
university that he was indeed half troll) with an abnormally loud voice. Ginny was rather used to him by now, since
she'd had him as a professor before, but this
time, Professor Andel insisted that his entire lesson be conducted in Troll,
even though the subject was more about Troll history than the actual language.
"TODAY,"
boomed Professor Andel in Troll and the class jumped in unison. "WE ARE GOING TO BE CHOOSING NAMES FOR
YOUR FINAL PROJECTS. THERE ARE TWENTY
NAMES OF PROFESSIONALS WHO HAVE AGREED TO GIVE OUT INTERVIEWS TO THIS LESSON. THEY HAVE ALL WORKED WITH TRAINING SECURITY
TROLLS IN SOME WAY, BE IT BY ACTUALLY TRAINING THEM OR RESEARCHING THE SUBJECT
MATTER. ACCIO!"
The
professor summoned a beret from his desk and handed it to the front row of
students. "PASS IT AROUND AND TAKE
ONE NAME. WHO DID YOU CHOSE, MR. GRANT?
AHH, STUART FRAGON, HE USED TO BE AN AUROR FOR THE MINISTRY,
HE'LL BE A FASCINATING INTERVIEW. MISS
MOLINGUE, YOU CHOSE MONSIER JEAN-CLAUDE PERDIQUE—HE KNOWS HOW TO SPEAK THE
LANGUAGE, SO YOU'RE INTERVIEW WILL BE ENTIRELY IN TROLL."
"GO
ON, MISS WEASLEY, THAT'S IT, AHHHH, POSSIBLY THE MOST FAMOUS ON THE LIST,
MADAME MILLICENT MARDEAX. ONE OF THE MOST BRILLIANT PEOPLE IN
ALL OF FRANCE, NEARLY ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY AND STILL AN AUROR. QUITE VICIOUS SHE IS, YES. NEXT, GO ON,
PARKER, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, PICK FROM THE HAT, NOW."
Ginny
blinked, the professor's voice penetrating her eardrums, and tried to study the
piece of paper which read: Madame Millicent Mardeax—an Auror for France's
Ministry for 157 years; she has worked with every type of magical beast, most
famous for killing seven manticore in the space of four days, saving several
small towns in Normandy from certain death and destruction during the first
reign of the evil dark wizard, Lord Voldemort. She devoted nearly twenty years
of her life to studying the moods, movements, thoughts and actions of many
different types of Trolls.
As
usual, by the time Ginny walked out of Educating Trolls, her head was
absolutely pounding. She would have left the grounds to pick up a dose of
Headache Healing Solution at the Magical Remedies shop, but she didn’t want to
be late for Mermish Composition. Mermish
was perhaps Ginny's best language; it came incredibly naturally to her for some
reason and she'd received top marks in every Mermish language course she'd had.
However, Mermish Composition was an entirely different story; the witch who
taught the course was not only difficult but it seemed as though she looked for
reasons to give low marks.
Needless
to say, the exam in Mermish Composition was something straight out of Ginny's
nightmares. She nearly jumped out of her skin when Madame Horne's timer went
off signaling the end of the exam—it was a figurine of a mermaid, which floated
in midair and screeched "time's up!" in terribly loud Mermish. Ginny watched in horror as her exam, along
with everyone else's flew to Madame's desk a split second after the screeching.
I've failed, she thought madly, staring blankly at Madame who looked on
with satisfaction as everyone's parchment landed in a neat pile. Apparently, Ginny wasn't the only one who
thought this; from across the room, a witch with whom she'd had a few classes
over the years let out a gasp of horror that sounded suspiciously like 'Eeeeeyoooouuuu!'—meaning 'nooooooo!' in Mermish.
Ginny
would have stayed in her seat all day, staring into space and thinking that she
would have to get top marks on everything else in order to pass the subject,
but she didn't want to give Madame the satisfaction. Indeed the witch, who reminded Ginny of a
female version of Snape, looked sinisterly jovial, as the girl who had screamed
was lead out of the room, being consoled by her friends. So shoving her text, Eyek! Liiek!
Twieeeaayeeey! —Advanced Mermish Language Companion, into her bag, Ginny
left the room, unable to help herself from locking an
evil eye with Madame Horne.
After her lessons, she went to the small café where she
worked part-time to retrieve the book she'd left there the night before and by
the time she'd made it home, it was late afternoon. Ginny stepped back into her little flat,
noting with a roll of her eyes that it looked even more messy
than it had when she'd left that morning. She tossed her cloak on top of
Brian's clutter on the sofa, kicked off her shoes and headed for her
bedroom. However, a loud squawk at the
open window made her turn; her owl, Maurice, was perched atop the windowsill,
rolling his huge gray eyes pointedly towards a letter on the sideboard.
"Hi, there, handsome." Ginny went over to him and
placed a loud kiss on top of his soft, feathered head. "What have you got
for me today?" She picked up the letter.
"From Hermione? I haven’t heard from her
in a while…"
Absentmindedly, she placed it atop the pile of letters
stacked up; there was one from Fred and another from Bill that she hadn't made
the time to open yet, however, Ginny felt a twinge of guilt when she saw
Sarah's familiar handwriting in pink ink on an envelope that had been sitting
there for about two weeks. Ginny bit her lip.
"I
can’t answer these letters, just now, I truly can't," she said to
Maurice. "Not when the flat looks
the way it does and I haven't even started my Elvish
composition yet. Homework should come first shouldn’t it?"
Maurice
hooted and Ginny bent down to peer into his eyes. "Was that a yes or a no?" Another hoot. Ginny sighed.
"I wish you could speak English.
Or French… or Mermish, or any other language I can understand. All right, since there's no hope in that, why
don't you give me a sign? Hoo hoo means yes, and squawk means no,
okay? Should I clean the flat?"
Maurice
hooted.
"But
shouldn’t I start writing my composition?"
Another hoot.
Ginny
couldn’t help but laugh. "You are never any help, do you know that? You're
almost as bad as Brian—"
She yawned then and felt a pull of fatigue on her body. "Perhaps I won’t do any of it, and just
go to sleep. I was awake until three in
the morning studying for Mermish, did you know that?"
Maurice
squawked and turned his head upside down to peer at her.
Ginny
stood in the middle of the flat for a good five minutes, chewing on her bottom
lip and trying to decided what to do. It would be just terrible of her to go to
sleep when she had so many things she needed to do, but suddenly she felt like
she couldn’t stand up. She hadn’t been
getting much sleep lately what with her lessons doubling up on workload; it was
always bad towards the end of term, however, since this was her last term,
she'd never had more to do. It was nearly
impossible to keep up with her correspondence; she was used to owling her mum
and Sarah three to four times a week, now she barely found the time to read the
letters, let alone write back.
It
was quite simple to ignore the clutter sprawled across the sofa, Ginny discovered, when the soft cushions seemed to beckon her and
her eyelids started drooping without any preamble whatsoever. Ignoring Brian's shirt and her cloak, Ginny
plopped down onto the green plush cushions, winced in pain before pulling out
the book she'd sat on, and laid her head back against her orange pillows. Just a few minutes, she said to
herself as her eyes slid shut. Just a few minutes and then I'll write to
Sarah….
****
"Oi! I've got dinner!" SLAM!
Ginny
sat bolt upright as the sound of the door slamming echoed in her head a hundred
times louder than it was. She looked
around in confusion for a few minutes, then peered at
Brian above the low wall that separated the parlor and kitchen. He set a huge
paper bag down on the kitchen table and began opening cabinets, pulling out
plates and glasses.
"What
time is it?" Ginny croaked, fumbling for her
watch before realizing it was on her wrist.
"Eight
o'clock," Brian said cheerfully.
"I finished the exam an hour early.
Come on, I've got tons of food."
Ginny
stared at him in shock, not sure which to demand first; how it could be eight
o'clock, why he was making so much noise or how in bloody hell he'd finished
his exam an hour early. She didn't get
the chance; Brian was peering at her and shaking his head in amazement. "Tell me you've been asleep since you
got home."
"I've
been asleep since I got home," she muttered, tossing aside his shirt,
which she must have pulled around her for covers, and getting up.
"You're
the only person I know who has the sleeping habits of an owl."
Maurice
squawked loudly from the desk in the living room and Ginny reached out a hand
to stroke him as she padded into the kitchen. "I had to stop at the café
to pick up the book I left there," she said, peering into the bag and
humming with pleasure at the wonderful aroma of cheese and freshly baked
bread. Then she remembered something.
"Wait
a minute—did you say that you've finished the exam an hour early?"
Brian
grinned. "Yes, and don’t you feel
stupid for being so worried? It turned out to be so easy!"
Ginny
swore. "Easy? EASY? It was a bloody nightmare!" She dipped
her finger into the cheese spread and said thickly, her mouth full of food,
"Did we sit the same exam?"
"Come
off it. Thirty multiple choice—if all exams could be like that…"
Ginny
dropped a huge slab of bread. "Multiple choice? Multiple choice?"
Brian
stared… then let out a crack of laughter.
"Don’t tell me… your exam consisted of ten essays—"
"Twelve
essays," Ginny muttered disbelievingly.
"I don't believe it! Different exams again!" It was Madame Horne's
specialty. "That
ugly, horrid cow!"
Brian
held up a hand. "Now hold on just a minute here. She may be a horrid cow,
but she certainly isn’t ugly."
At
once Ginny had an idea. "Hey,
Bri—why don’t you help me get a better mark?
You can flirt with her, you know, soften her up a bit."
"I
don’t think that's possible…and what will that accomplish anyway?"
Ginny
lifted a shoulder in a shrug. "I
dunno—be creative. Tell her I once saved a mermaid's life or something."
"That'll
work," he said sarcastically, taking a swig of his guinness
(Ginny wrinkled her nose—she would never know why he insisted on buying that
stuff). "You know, she is sort of…
what's the word I'm looking for…?"
"A cold-hearted vulture?" Ginny suggested.
"The
opposite of ugly… help me think…"
"Okay,
so she's really beautiful—"
"Try
bloody ravishing."
"So
it won’t be very horrible for you to go after her. Do it for me, please?"
"Next
lesson… I'll use the old McGuire magic. Just for you, love."
"Fantastic. Anything I can do to repay you."
He
lifted a brow and looked interested. "Anything?"
Ginny
gave him a wink and was about to say something suggestive, but she just didn't
have the heart for it. Sighing miserably, she let her bread flop to the table
and whispered mournfully, "twelve essays."
"Well,
don’t feel too bad—the multiple choice wasn't exactly a walk in the park."
"Better
than essays," she mumbled, then she laughed. "People were crying when her stupid
timer started screeching—"
"—I
like that little thing!"
"I
thought I was going to stop breathing for a moment."
"Actually there was a witch who started crying at
the end." Brian grinned. "I
comforted her."
"Really?" Ginny asked dryly. "And…."
Brian
glanced at the clock over the sink.
"And…I'll be meeting her after I finish eating. Her nerves still need… soothing, I'm
sure."
Ginny
snorted. "I'm sure." Shaking
her head, she pulled a jug of juice from the cabinet and poured herself a tall
glass. "We had to chose people to interview in Educating Trolls today."
Brian
looked up from his massive sandwich. "Really? Who did you chose?"
"Andel
made us pick from a hat—did your class get to chose on your own?"
Brian
thought about it; he'd had Educating Troll last term. "No, we were assigned as well, but I
knew I was going to be back home in
"That's
right, I remember now. Well, we had to
pull from a hat today and I got Madame Millicent… I forget her last name…
what?"
Brian
was staring at her with a mixture of amusement and regret on his face. "Madame Millicent Mardeax?" he
asked carefully.
Ginny lifted a brow.
"Yes… why are you looking at me like that?"
"Oh,
love, I'm so sorry."
"Why,
what is it? What the hell is wrong with her?"
"Well,
her temper is legend. There was this huge rumor going round a few years back that
she stunned a journalist just for asking her age."
Ginny
nodded, chewing her sandwich.
"That's nice to hear. You'll have to come with so you can perform
the counter curse. What else, then?"
"Well,
it's her temper… like I said, it's legend. I read somewhere
that there is only one time of the week and one time of day she allows herself
to be questioned by the press and that means you'll probably have to contact
her soon if you want to talk to her before end of term." Brian pointed his
fork at her. "This is something you cannot leave to the last
minute."
"I
know, I know. I was really starting to think about it yesterday. In only a few short months we'll be finished,
can you believe it? Then we can go home
and stop the madness in our lives."
"I'll
drink to that," Brian lifted his bottle and, after taking a long gulp, he
looked at Ginny a bit cautiously. "Any ideas on that, then?"
"Ideas on what?"
"Going home… stopping the madness…."
Something
twisted in her gut. "I dunno what
you’re talking about," she said evasively.
"I
think you do."
"Right
if you don’t stop gloating that you already have a job lined up and I
don't, you'll be sorry. Bastard," she added because she felt like it.
Looking amused, Brian took another bite of sandwich. "You do realize that you will have to
make a decision on what sort of position you want eventually…?" he asked
after swallowing his mouthful.
"Ehh,"
Ginny said carelessly, holding up a hand. "'Eventually' is a spectacular
word, did you know that? It means… 'not
right now'."
"All
right, all right," he grinned.
"That's not technically what it means, but all right."
Ginny
rolled her eyes and was about to retort when Maurice swept into the room and
landed on the table.
Brian
put down his bottle. "Off. Now."
"Oh,
he's not doing anything wrong," Ginny said trying to coax Maurice to her
side the table.
Maurice
squawked rudely at Brian and proceeded to flip the bread off Brian's sandwich
with his beak
"GINNY!"
Ginny
sat up and patted her knee.
"Maurice, come here. You can
sit here, come on now." Maurice fluttered to her knee and Ginny stroked
him. "You know he's a prat, why do you have to bother him?" she
whispered to her bird.
Maurice
rubbed his head against Ginny's chin, hooting in agreement.
"One
of these days…" Brian muttered, tossing his bread into the trash and
cutting another slice.
Brian
and Maurice didn’t get on to well… in fact, Brian had been threatening 'one of
these days' since Ginny had brought Maurice home a few years back. Ginny couldn't remember what exactly had
started the animosity between the two, but she had a fleeting memory of one of
Brian's dates running screaming from his bedroom with Maurice chasing after
her. Ginny tried to remember… there had
been a hat involved, hadn’t there…or some kind of fur handbag…?
"What
time do you have to work tomorrow?" Brian asked her, eyeing Maurice.
"Five right through until closing time… oh!"
she exclaimed. "That is terrific,
do you know why?"
"I'm
dying to know."
Ginny
ignored his sarcasm and leaned forward.
"That means that I can get everything done! I can start my Elvish
composition tomorrow before work—"
"What's
your topic again?"
"The
similarities between Elvish and English—"
"Easy."
"I
know. And tonight, I can catch up
on writing home. I've still a letter to
Bill to write, one to Fred, and Sarah… poor Sarah, I haven’t written to her in
two whole weeks."
"Bloody
hell, look at the time," Brian said, sliding his chair back. "Sorry, love,
my sympathies are needed in a female dormitory at l'Acadèmie."
"You're not going to help me clean?" she
demanded. "BRIAN, THIS PLACE IS A
MESS AND IT'S ALL YOURS—!"
"Don’t wait up, then," he said cheerfully and
left. Ginny hurled a chuck of bread at him as he closed the door, only adding
to the mess.
She
managed to make the kitchen as spotless as she could, which didn’t take quite
so long as she was very adept at Scouring Charms from helping her mum so many
times. When she stepped into the living room, however, she nearly broke her
neck on one of Brian's huge shoes lying in the middle of the room and she
grabbed the sideboard for balance.
"You
know," she said loudly, startling Maurice who was at the window now. "If I'm awake when he comes home, I'm
going to curse him into such a stupor, he won't be
able to make a mess for
days!"
Maurice
hooted in agreement.
****
Later
that night, after having made the flat sparkling and spotless (with the
exception of her bedroom), Ginny found herself walking down the streets of
Lacasse again, heading, not towards school, but to her bridge instead. Her
bridge was located in the center of Lacasse, just over the huge canal that
flowed through the city. Le Ponte des Lumières was very old and made of solid
stone with a narrow cobblestone pathway along the center of it and a short,
wide ledge that Ginny loved to sit on.
She went there to write home and think, but as time was scarce for that lately, her visits were few and far between.
Pulling her cloak around her more tightly, Ginny walked
swiftly, passing shops that were closed for the night and brightly lit cafés
that were only starting to get busy. She felt a twinge of relief that she
wasn't at her café right now serving tables and waiting for the night to be
over.
At
the center of the bridge, Ginny hoisted herself up onto the ledge, brought her
legs up, and decided to get the simple person over with first.
Dear
Fred,
Her
lips quirked at the very thought of her brother and she began to write.
In
response to the question in your letter, no, I will not venture into Darkside
Row to purchase Veela hair for your "Squawking Mints," even if it
costs less gold here than Knockturn Ally.
And yes, I fear for my life more than I fear the end of your
business. Especially since I know for a
fact that it won't be too great a sacrifice to spend the extra gold and spare
my life. I have it on good authority
(Mum) that business is booming. Also, and I know I've asked you and George many
times but I'll ask again: Have you ever thought of opening up a
Another
thing I cannot wait to see is THE book.
It's true, then? You and George
are writing a book? Mum is quite
horrified, as you know. She can’t believe you're writing out instructions on
rule breaking for the entire world to read.
Well, mostly she's just worried about Julian—she thinks you're going to
corrupt her only grandson and Charlie will have to curse you for corrupting his
son. Personaly, I can't wait to read it and sue you for anything in there
that's mine that you nicked.
Anyway, I'll end this letter now, as I've got to write to
Bill and I love him more than I love you. I'll see you very, very soon and have
an advanced copy of that book waiting. Give George a big kiss on the cheek for
me.
Love, your baby, baby sister (and former protégé),
Ginny skimmed the contents quickly and, smiling to
herself, slipped it inside an envelope.
"Onto Bill," she muttered and dipped her quill into the
inkbottle next to her.
Writing
to Bill was quite different from writing to Fred. Bill's letter consisted of an array of
questions regarding what type of job Ginny was going to apply for once she was
back in
The
obvious choice for a degree in Linguistics would be to work at the Ministry as
a translator in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical
Creatures. Most people in her year were
applying at their countries' respective Ministries and some had even been
accepted—including Brian, who'd had a very praising recommendation from one of
their professors. Even though Ginny's marks weren't as high as Brian's, she
knew she would be able to work for the Ministry as a translator if she wanted
to, but the truth was that the job just didn’t spark her interest enough for
her to decide on it as the thing she would be doing for the rest of her
life. Brian said this was because she
couldn’t make a decision to save her life, and even though Ginny openly admitted
that was true, she knew that she had good reason being undecided this time
around. She was dealing with her future now.
At
once, Le Papillon, the little café she worked in, came into her mind and Ginny
heaved a sigh. Even though she would
never say so out loud and Brian would curse her dead if she ever admitted this,
Ginny sincerely wished she could work there for the rest of her life. She knew
the people—she loved the people—and it was so comfortable. The atmosphere was
relaxing and fun with the friendly customers, the excited tourists, the school
children who came in after school, the rowdy crowd from university, with whom
Ginny usually found herself joining by the time the night was ending. Ginny had
taken the job after her first term to help pay for university and eventually to
get out of the horrid dormitories of l'Acadèmie, but the little café with it's
outdoor patio, flowery trellis, and cozy bar had rapidly become like a home to
her.
However,
spending the rest of her life working in a café in
Besides,
she missed home… part of her felt like she could jump out of her skin in
anticipation to go home—not just for a quick visit over Christmas, but for
good.
Ginny
opened Sarah's letter next and if she was feeling homesick before, this letter
had her practically in tears by the time she finished reading.
Dear
Ginny,
Okay,
I am starting to pack now for my holiday in
Things
have been so hectic here—there's this wizard at the office who fancies me and
he's always tripping over his feet and things. He is sort of sweet, but Ginny,
he reminds me of Colin Creevey and I just can’t get over it. BY THE WAY, Colin is ENGAGED. Can you believe it? His fiancé is so pretty, too! I don’t know what she sees in him, but to each her own, I suppose.
Anyway, I'll stop rambling on now because I know you're busy and so am I
come to that! And by the way, don't rush
to respond to this if you don't have the time—just know that I can't wait for
you to show me around
Love,
Sarah
PS—By
the way, if you write to Fred or George at all, tell them I found the Canary
Cream they sneaked into my handbag and did they really think I'd be fooled into
eating it?
Ginny
laughed out loud and fumbled for her quill to start writing back to Sarah. The
letter she wrote was jumbled and emotional and so refreshing. But then, it was
always exciting when she wrote to Sarah lately because she knew that Sarah
would be arriving in
Tucking
her letters into her handbag, Ginny gripped the ledge with her hands and leaned
back against the night, peeking over her shoulder at the flowing canal of black
water behind her and enjoying the rush she always felt when doing this. She grinned and tried to imagine her family's
reactions if they were here with her.
Her mum would shriek that she was going to fall off and to get down;
Fred and George would probably hold her further over, threatening to drop her;
Ron would grab her hand and yank her out of their grip away from the bridge,
always trying to be protective….
Sometimes she wished they could see her here. Her parents had been to visit, of course, a
few times over the years; Charlie and his family had taken a holiday a year or
so ago, but the others had never seen her in Paris… in her other home. Even her mum and dad and Charlie hadn’t
really seen her—the real her—when they'd been to visit. Those holidays were always rushed and packed
with sightseeing and she was never able to show them her normal life.
Oh,
well.
Quite
finished with her alone time she hopped off the ledge and swung her handbag
over her shoulder as she walked back. She watched her feet stepping over the
cobblestone pathway and thought how odd it was that this was so familiar to
her…she'd even memorized the way the stones were set in the path— they would
get lighter in color near the end of the bridge and begin to smooth out.
She
was struck then, as she so often was when she came here, how odd it was to have
a life away from
Ginny
descended the short steps at the end of the bridge, holding onto the railing as
she made a sharp twirl to the left to head back to the flat. She wondered how she was going to adjust to
being home. The picture of her tiny
bedroom at the Burrow fluttered into her mind and she felt her heart lift a
little. Her bedroom… her family… suddenly she couldn't wait to sleep in her old
bed. Ginny thought of Brian and
grinned—she supposed she would miss him yelling at the top of his lungs for her
to get out of bed, but she felt a huge relief that Brian was not someone she
had to say goodbye to; he would be back in England, working for the Ministry
and probably getting on fantastically with her father in a few months time; the
two of them had hit it off from the start.
When
she passed a nearby pub which was always brimming with people, Ginny spotted a
table of students which contained some friends from her Mermish lesson through
the large picture window. As several of them spotted her, Ginny found herself
being beckoned over and she spent the next hour laughingly reliving the horror
of the Mermish exam with her friends and informing the outraged group how
different Brian's exam had been.
Much
later, as she stepped into her cool flat and flipped off her shoes, leaving
them laying on their sides next to Brian's, it
occurred to Ginny that she'd forgotten to read Hermione's letter. She groaned
out loud before walking over to Maruice and attaching the responces that she's
written earlier to his leg, watching him fly through the window, and wondering
if she would ever catch up.
She
was too wired from the loud music in the pub to write anything else tonight, so
there was no way she could start her Elvish
composition. Flipping on the wireless, she pulled her hair from its ponytail
and grabbed the Muggle novel that she'd been reading on and off for months now
(she just didn’t have the time to read for long periods of time anymore). Then, raising the volume on the wireless with
her wand, she slipped into the bathroom to run her bubble bath, leaving the
door open, but setting her wand on the edge of the tub in case Brian came home
and she had to close the door. She was just about to pull her shirt over her
head when a noise from the living room caused her to whip her head around.
It
was an owl—not Maurice—but Ginny grinned at the site of his tiny little body
flying up and down, bobbing excitedly in midair.
"Pigwidgeon!"
she cried gleefully, stepping back into the living room. "Come here—no, stop, Pigwidgeon, stay still!"
Giving up any notion of cuddling her pet, Ginny rolled her eyes and snatched
the letters that were attached to his leg.
"Here you go, no – not on
Maurice's perch, he'll die. Over here."
She poured a few owl snacks onto the windowsill and Pigwidgeon happily
tucked in, sending bits flying.
Ginny surveyed the letter from her Mum and wondered why
she would use Pig to send a letter and not the family owl, but when she slipped
open the envelope and saw another addressed in Ron's handwriting, Ginny
smirked. She'd be willing to bet
everything she owned that mum had coerced Ron into writing a letter by telling
him to use Pigwidgeon for her delivery as well.
Giving
up on her bath and tossing her novel onto the table, Ginny curled up on the
sofa and, after flicking her wand to stop the running bath in the loo, opened
her Mum's letter. Laying her head back on her embroidered pillows, she began to
read:
Dear
Ginny,
In
answer to your last letter everything is fine here. Ron's letter is included as you've seen, of
course, provided this owl makes it to
Speaking
of Julian, Charlie and Emma are doing wonderfully! They are very excited— Emma
performed the Gender Charm and they made the announcement the other day. It will be a little baby girl—the second
Weasley girl in generations! Julian is excited about having a little sister,
it's all he can talk about. I simply
can’t wait… I've started knitting the pink blanket already.
Ginny
let out a little squeal and pressed the letter to her heart. She was going to have a niece! She positively glowed as she continued to
read on.
Your
father is working on a coming-home present for you. It has to do with Muggles, of course, but
he's made me promise not to say anything about what it is. Just pretend you like it, dear, but then, I
know you would anyway.
How
are your lessons? You mentioned a big
exam last time—in Mermish—how did that go?
Bill
wants you to answer his letter straight away, he's been looking for job
opportunities for you since he wrote to you and he's come up with quite a
few. You'll probably be interested in
that if you haven’t already thought of something yourself.
Ginny smiled after reading this paragraph. This was her mum making it ever so subtle
that she was interested to know if Ginny had come up with anything, but making
sure not to press her. Mum knew what she
was doing, Ginny thought to herself with a sly smile.
How
is Brian? Send him my love and be sure
to tell him to keep the Sunday after you arrive open—I'll be having a dinner
for you and everyone will be invited of course.
Charlie even mentioned renting a room at a restaurant in Hogsmeade for a
welcome home party… how would you like that?
Ahh… look at me, talking about your return as if it's tomorrow. I know it's not for a few months yet, but I
can't wait to have you home again.
You're bedroom is still waiting, the same as you left it. I miss waking up my little girl in the
morning—or afternoon.
Anyway,
things are rather calm here—nothing like the city of
And
that's everything I can think of. I'm
sitting in the kitchen now while your brothers de-gnome for me because Merlin
knows your father will never do anything to hurt those things. I know it's twice as hard to de-gnome at
night, but there is nobody to do it during the day. The house is practically empty in the
afternoons. That's why I can’t wait for
my girl to come home to keep female company with me again. I miss her.
Love,
Mum
Ginny reread the letter more slowly, going back to the
last paragraph again and again. It was quite a few minutes before she finally
stood and went to bed.
****
By
the time Friday came round, Ginny felt as though she was months closer to the
day she had to go back to
“What’s the Troll for ‘golden?’
” Ginny asked one night, not wanting to have to go searching for her English to
Troll Dictionary. She and Brian were
occupying opposite corners of the flat, each flipping through books and
muttering to their charmed quills, which were writing furiously on long pieces
of parchment. There were brief
interruptions when Brian would fling his book off the table in frustration or
Ginny would stomp her feet in tantrum-like fashion.
Brian cracked his neck with a roll of his head. “G`hur. Accent the
'G'.”
Ginny nodded and commanded the quill accordingly.
“I’m hungry,” Brian said, slamming his book shut.
“Finite!” Ginny commanded the quill and continued writing by her
own hand—the quill was loosing it’s magic very quickly
owing to the fact that it had been working non-stop for the past week. Ginny had spent the entire night dotting the
'i's and crossing the 't's of her essay which the
quill had failed to do and now the cheap thing was going far too slowly. Then
she realized Brian had spoken and she barely lifted her eyes from her parchment
to reply, “we just ate.”
Brian started to agree, but stopped in mid-sentence. “Gin. That was nine
hours ago.”
Ginny shook her head and wished he would shut up. “No, it wasn’t, we ate at one, it’s only—“ She looked up and followed his gaze to the clock over the
kitchen sink. “Oh, wow, it’s almost ten
o'clock!”
“Let’s get out of here, seriously, before I go mad,” he
said, sitting back and running his hands through his hair.
“I could have sworn it was only … six or… something…”
Ginny mumbled and shoved the quill in her mouth to gather her papers together.
When she stood and finally got a close look at Brian, she almost laughed. His light brown hair stood up in every
direction and his eyes looked wild and un-focused.
Before Ginny could comment, however, Brian eyed her. “You
look like hell.”
“I was thinking the same thing about you.”
"Food. Now."
They both laughed as their stomachs gave identical
growls.
Basically, the only things Ginny had time for all week
were studying and eating (barely) with the occasional shift at the café thrown
in for good measure. Her shifts at the café weren't all bad; Ginny could easily
let her friend Aurelie handle most of the tables while she finished her
homework behind the bar. Working had
even benefited her on Thursday night when a family of goblins came in (quite a
rare occurrence) and Ginny wound up talking to them for one solid hour about
Gobbledegook dialects and rarities in speech.
By the end of her shift, her entire composition had been practically
written from the notes she'd taken.
Despite her busy agenda, however, Ginny did feel like
everything was coming along nicely.
Taking Brian's advice, she'd contacted Madame Millicent immediately and
her secretary had told Ginny to come in one afternoon next week to make an appointment—which
added a whole different stress to the situation. Ginny had never set foot inside
"Please come with me, Bri," Ginny pleaded on
the morning of her appointment.
"Honestly, you don’t need to go school,
you're smarter than Professor Aale."
"Ha." Brian said through a mouthful of
croissant. "Buttering me up won’t
work. I can’t miss class, love, I've already told you—"
"Pleeeeeease?"
"Are you mad?
Look, why don’t you wait until three o'clock and I'll go with you
then-"
"Because I've made the
appointment for twelve. That was the only time the secretary had an opening."
Brian made a face.
"You have to make an appointment to make an appointment, how
dense is that—"
"It's the Ministry, Brian. The
Ministry of Magic. It's top security in there… they might… body search
me." A light came into his eyes and Ginny cut him off before he could make
some sordid comment. "Look, stop
being such a … Hermione and skive
off, will you? For me?"
Even as she gave him her most vulnerable eyes, Ginny knew
it was no hope—getting Brian to miss school was like trying to get him to
cancel a date.
"Look, Gin, I'll even leave my Mermish lesson an
hour early—two."
Ginny shook her head.
"I can’t wait that long. Thanks for nothing, though," she
snapped, her temper getting the better of her and she slammed from the room.
Ginny knew she shouldn't be angry, but she just couldn’t
help it. She had full confidence that she could make it to the Ministry on her
own, but having some company would have made the journey a great deal less nervewracking.
And it wasn't as though Brian couldn’t afford to miss a lesson or two.
So later that morning, Ginny ventured out on her own. The
first step was to Apparate to a park, which was located at the very borders of
the city, and she did so from the flat. It was huge and picturesque with high iron
fences and hundreds of trees dotting the lawns and lining the long
broomstick-riding paths, which twisted over the small hills. Ginny realized at once that she was standing
on the path as three small children riding miniature broomsticks zoomed by,
giggling madly, followed by a witch on an adult-sized broom who called out to
them in French. Ginny scooted out of the
way, smiling at a young couple who passed her hand in hand and pulling out the
piece of parchment on which she'd written the directions.
It took her over an hour to walk to the
Ministry, including getting lost and having to ask a few suspicious looking
street sellers for help, but finally she made it to the huge stone gates of the
Ministry of Magic. There were five large
security Trolls standing at the entrance, who Ginny recognized at once as
Highland Trolls—quite vicious, but extremely calculating and smart. Thinking that she needed all the help she
could get, Ginny approached them and introduced herself in their own native
language. They looked only slightly surprised at her speaking Troll and one of
them pulled a long slab of stone from his pocket; Ginny could see that there
were names and times carved into the stone and hers was one of them.
"Inside," he grunted back in
Troll. "See the receptionist."
Thanking them, Ginny walked inside the gates
and up a long pathway that looked very much like the one in the park and before
she knew it, a huge structure came into view.
It looked like l'Academie, only much older and much bigger. As she
neared, she saw people coming out of the many different exits, some appearing
from around the sides of the building, some walking down a huge stone stairway.
They all looked very professional in business robes and Ginny heard two nearby
talking in French, "…got splintched while trying to Apparate to
Montauban—in the Muggle world.
Twelve Muggles saw the leg—it was moving and everything—many of them
went mad and had to be institutionalized.
Now the Magical Repeal has to Apparate into the Asylum and fix their
memories and the all the doctors' memories. It's a forty-person job—" Ginny would
have grinned if she hadn't been so nervous—she missed hearing stories like that
from her father.
As she approached the entrance, however,
people seemed slightly more scarce. She gazed up at the two huge wooden doors as
she walked up a tall stone steps and as she reached for the handle, the door
opened and voices sounded. Instinct had her jumping aside but as the talking
continued and nobody emerged from the doors, Ginny reasoned that they were
standing on the other side, finishing up a conversation. She wondered if she
should pass through and excuse herself, but the
thought flew from her mind as one of the men spoke.
Amidst the French accents, one male voice
spoken in perfect English made the blood drain from her head. She forced her ears to open, trying
desperately to hear it again, but there were a few others speaking and she couldn’t
tell if it had only been a mistake in her mind….
But then he spoke again, bidding farewell to someone and
Ginny's eyes slid closed.
There was no mistake.
A/N: It's ironic, isn't it, that I
should be writing a fic about Ginny abroad in