Chapter Text
As a general rule, Ginny had not been a nervous child. She’d never been high-strung as Percy was, nor carried any traces of Ron’s worried feeling of inadequacy. She’d been an embarrassing, blushing idiot when she’d first met Harry Potter, but nerves were not her constant companions.
But she had been anxious to go to school for the first time. And when that first year had turned out to be a bigger disaster than she ever had imagined, it didn’t fade as quickly as she’d hoped.
She was still slowly trying to lose the anxiety that had bled into her with Tom Riddle’s memory. It was not always so easy to shake.
Under normal circumstances, she was as close to the easy-going kid she’d always had been as possible.
These were not normal circumstances.
When Kingsley’s patronus sounded through the pavilion the anxiety caught her in a death grip. A pale cold hand tightened in a fist around her heart and it didn’t let go. She knew that hand, the shapes of the letters it wrote out.
They are coming.
Her pulse stuttered and her lungs failed to cooperate; she couldn’t breathe.
The screaming had started, in a cacophony accompanied by curse cry and the sharp crack of apparition. She had no memory of reaching for her wand but she clung onto it for dear life.
Ginny looked around, trying to see where her family was, but her eyes couldn’t focus. People were rushing every which way and all colours of spells were flying from the end of wands.
Hermione dashed into view with Harry in tow and Ginny tried to get to them but too many scattered tables and chairs stood in her way. Instead she followed their movements helplessly in a throng of panicking wedding guests, panicking herself and not knowing where they were trying to get too.
She spun around and saw red and saw red and held Ron’s gaze for a twisting heartbeat before he vanished before her eyes, Harry and Hermione finally having reached him.
Someone knocked into her and she barely kept her grip on her wand as her knees crashed into the floor.
A gasp escaped her and she hadn’t realised she’d had any air left in her lungs. Quickly, she snapped up some more. She felt strong hands on her arms and she thrashed and kicked out of the grip, trying to see where to aim her wand until she saw more red hair and relaxed just a fraction.
“Alright, Gin?” Charlie’s question was more perfunctory than anything – instinct. His eyes scanned her briefly for signs of injury but were already darting through the crowd by the time he’d helped her to her feet.
“Alright.” She nodded, even though her heart was hammering in her chest and she was slightly concerned she might toss chunks of wedding cake everywhere.
Charlie kept one hand on her as he moved her behind him. With her back to his she was finally able to properly take in the chaos surrounding them.
With the protective wards shattered more than half the guests has disapparated. Their presence was replaced by the black clad Death Eaters, who stood in a rough formation around the pavilion and all their wands raised.
She lifted her own arm but knew there was no use to it. The Death Eaters outnumbered the Order members present and soon would outnumber wedding guests as well. People were still disapparating by the dozen. Ginny saw Fleur, grief-stricken as she insisted her parents leave her in a pleading French. Gabrielle had tears streaming down her face.
The wedding band had vanished, leaving a gaping hole in the soundscape that was only replaced by panicked screams.
Most of them were, “ Go! ” and with the crowd dispersing Ginny was finally able to locate the rest of her family. Molly was shouting it to Remus and Tonks, who stood behind glimmering shield charms and linked their hands with pained expressions. They disapparated with the last of the other order members
It was that same moment her parents caught sight of Charlie and her and tried to make towards them.
“Stay where you are!” barked one of the Death Eaters.
Ginny froze and beside her so did Charlie.
She couldn’t be sure, but she thought she recognised the voice from the Department of Mysteries. The thought made her blood turn cold.
The last cracks of disapparation faded into an uneasy quiet.
There were only Weasleys left now, and they were outnumbered at least two to one. They stood in stranded pairs in the pavilion; Fred and George were back to back at the edge of what had been the dance floor, while Bill and Fleur had stood from their table.
It was certainly a contrast, to see them in their evening finery with expression that spoke of war.
“Where’s Potter,” the Death Eater spoke again. He had his wand pointed at Arthur’s chest and Ginny was sure of it now, it was one of the Lestrange brothers.
Arthur held his hands in the air.
“He’s not here.”
Ginny racked her brain but couldn’t remember the slightest difference between Rabastan and Rodolphus. They’d both wanted to kill her, it was all the same to her.
Lestrange stalked forwards until his wand pressed against Arthur’s throat. He swallowed.
The circle of Death Eaters closed in too and the Weasleys were herded into a clump. They might have lost a tactical advantage, but it was a relief to be in arms reach of everyone.
“Search the house!” Lestrange growled. A flock of his colleagues broke away from the wedding tent and headed towards the house.
“There’s no one here.” Arthur was calm, even with a wand to his throat, and Ginny was fiercely proud.
“We’ll see about that.”
Ginny knew that Harry wasn’t there. She’d seen him disapparate. But it didn’t stop from anxiety twisting in her gut as she saw the cloaked figures stalk towards the house.
The Weasleys just stood helplessly by while the Death Eaters searched the Burrow, guarded under wand-point by the remainder of their colleagues.
They did not talk or move. They could only wait.
It seemed an eternity later than one of the Death Eaters came bounding down the stairs and charged towards them.
He rounded on Arthur.
“Care to tell me who’s hiding in your attic?”
Molly’s face paled and Ginny felt a lurch in her heart.
Arthur didn’t react.
“My youngest son. He’s come down with spattergroit recently-” He waved a careless hand “-which is why he wasn’t participating in the festivities.” He gestured to the remains of the party around them. The broken tables and scattered chairs. Wine was soaked into the tablecloths and in the confusion the cake had ended up on the floor.
The Death Eater’s masks was impassive, but Ginny imagined him squinting from the way he moved his head.
“It’s very contagious, you know,” Arthur said conversationally, and the Death Eater flinched back.
More Death Eaters emerged from the house and conferred in muted whispers to each other. Though it was hard to tell with a convicted killer, Ginny thought Lestrange was looking more murderous by the second. His finger tapped an unsteady rhythm on his wand.
The silence was so thick you could almost see it, like a pale fog that stretched over the tent.
It broke with the uncertain voice from one of the Death Eaters surrounding them.
Ginny thought their arms must be getting tired. And it was a warm day, they must have been sweating under the heavy dark robes.
“Ask the girl. My daughter was sure she and Potter were together.”
Ginny wondered which of her fellow students’ father hid behind that mask and frowned. She shrugged her shoulders, praying to Merlin she appeared nonchalant.
“I’ve got no clue. We split up last year.”
She was glad that their masks covered their faces so completely. Ginny did not think she could have managed to be so apathetic if she’d had to meet their eyes.
There was general grumble between the Death Eaters about their uselessness, and they set off to scour the place more thoroughly.
Night had fallen by the time the Death Eaters left, empty of questions and having searched the house and surrounding property twice over.
The last of the Weasleys did not hang around long.
Charlie clapped Bill on the shoulder and made a lewd comment about wedding nights that made Molly go pink and all the brothers present laugh. Fleur only grinned fearsomely, showing her row of pearly teeth.
With their excuse made for them, the new Mr and Mrs Weasley said their goodbyes and thanked everyone again for putting on the wedding.
“Perhaps not the ending you had in mind,” Ginny said.
Fleur gave a throaty laugh. Her beautiful dress had been stained in the scuffle and her hair had come loose in the initial throw of curses. The effect was no less striking.
“Well, at least it was memorable, non?”
They shared a round of hugs and watched as Bill and Fleur disapparated, hand in hand.
“I’ve got head off too,” Charlie muttered. His face was painted with regret, but there was no use in delaying the inevitable.
“You stay safe!” Molly insisted. She tucked a lock of hair behind his ear and for once didn’t comment about its length.
Charlie smiled grimly.
“You too.”
When he was gone only the twins remained, and there was an awkward beat of silence.
“We should get going,” George murmured. Ginny knew they had their flat to get back to, their shop to run. But the bit inside her that was nothing more than a little sister desperately wanted them to stay.
Molly bit her lip and Ginny was sure she for a moment she was going to insist they move back home. But Arthur put his hand around her waist and she blinked quickly.
“You’ll have to come for dinners. On Sundays,” Molly insisted.
They promised they would before they disapparated with simultaneous cracks.
Arthur turned one of the scattered chairs the right way up and sat down with a heavy sigh. He buried his face in his hands and only looked up again when Molly touched a hand to his shoulder.
“You think the others are safe then?” Molly asked. Her worry betrayed her in her tone.
“We’ll hear if they’re not,” Ginny said, which was awful but true. The Daily Prophet would not hesitate to print an evening edition if they found Undesirable No. 1.
She wished she hadn’t said anything when Molly started wringing her hands.
“We’d best tell them we’re alright, though. Hadn’t we?” she fretted.
Arthur nodded and stroked her arm. A blue glow lit up the pavilion as he sent his patronus off to find Ron. Its message was dishearteningly true.
Family safe, do not reply, we are being watched.
There was a war to fight, people to worry over and a wedding still to clean up after. But it could all wait until tomorrow.
Her parents were caught up in their own worried embrace and Ginny couldn’t stand it. She didn’t want to intrude but more than that was too angry to be worried.
She drifted up to her room so soundlessly she may as well have been a ghost.
The door creaked a little as it opened, and she was already missing Hermione’s presence as she resigned to find her room empty.
It was not.
Crookshanks was curled up in the bed that had been Hermione’s. He must have had a good go at looking for Hermione there – he’d completely rumpled the sheets. Ginny knew her to always make her bed each morning.
His crumpled face seemed to be scowling more than usual but he acquiesced when Ginny tried to pick him up. He wriggled a bit until he was comfortable but let her hug him into his chest.
He nuzzled into her armpit and let out a discontented whine.
She knew how he felt. She’d been left behind too.