A Weasley Obligation

There are few things in life that hurt more than a broken heart. In fact, depending on who one speaks to, it could reasonably be said that nothing is more painful. It's a hard pain to bear and perhaps the depth of hurt is made worse by the sheer length of time it takes for a heart to heal. Though, depending on who one speaks to, it could be said that a broken heart will never truly, fully heal.

Now, people react to pain in different ways. Some put on a brave face and suffer silently. Others willingly drown themselves in their pain. Still more push it away and pretend the pain never existed.

Ginny Weasley knew she fell into the last category.

When the war ended and Voldemort was no more, she was still in her seventh year at Hogwarts. She, like most in the wizarding world, was overjoyed at the news. However, unlike most in wizarding world, Ginny's reaction was more personal than a general sense of relief, for now Harry was finally free to live as he pleased and love whom he willed.

But Harry didn't come back to Ginny.

At first she dismissed it, thinking he was waiting for the media frenzy to fade. Then, after a few months has passed without any sign of her old love, she reasoned that Harry just needed some time to himself, because if anyone deserved to take a mental holiday from the stress of life- it was Harry. But soon, a few months grew into a year, and then one year became two. Finally, after two years and four months, Ginny was forced to admit that, perhaps, Harry didn't have any intention of returning to her at all.

It was unfortunate that she came to this conclusion in the middle the Weasley family's annual summer barbecue.

"Ginny, dear!" Molly Weasley cried, alarmed by the sudden change of expression on her only daughter's face. "Whatever's the matter?"

Though she opened her mouth to answer her mother, Ginny found herself curiously lacking any vocal capability as two years of procrastinated heartbreak suddenly became reality. She turned abruptly away from the open doorway and the view of Harry and her brothers it afforded her, gasping for breath and struggling against the rise of tears that threatened to overflow. She pressed one pale hand tightly to her breast, as if to hold the pieces of her shattered heart in place before they slipped further away.

"Oh my," Mrs. Weasley exclaimed as Ginny's face crumpled. She quickly put the bowl of salad back down on the kitchen table and pulled her daughter into her arms. "Don't cry, pet," she crooned, rubbing Ginny's trembling back soothingly as the young woman buried her head into her mother's hair and fought not to suffer a complete emotional collapse. "It can't be all that bad."

Ginny wanted to tell her that, oh yes, it really was all that bad, but all that left her mouth was a broken, despairing moan which she quickly muffled against her mother's shoulder.

Molly, heeding her maternal instincts, discreetly drew Ginny away from the kitchen, up the stairs to the upper levels and it wasn't until they were safely within Ginny's room that she once again addressed the problem.

"What's wrong, love?"

Tears flowing freely down her cheeks, Ginny slumped ungracefully onto her bed and held her head in hands as she struggled to push her voice through her constricted throat. When the words refused to come forth, she could do nothing but look up at her mother and hope the older woman understood.

There must have been something telling in her daughter's eyes because Molly's own eyes filled with tears and she quickly sat beside Ginny on the bed. "Oh, darling," she sighed, wrapping her warm arms around the younger woman. "I knew this would happen sooner or later."

Finally, Ginny's voice re-emerged. "Why?" she cried. She allowed her head to fall once more in her awaiting hands.

"No one knows why these things happen," Molly soothed. "Sometimes love just slips away and there's nothing that can be done for it."

Ginny looked up at her mother, horrified. "H-he doesn't love me anymore?"

Molly looked uncomfortable, as if suddenly realizing that wasn't quite the thing Ginny needed to hear at that moment. "I'm sure he still cares for you," she amended softly, "just not that way anymore." This only made Ginny cry harder. "Ssh," the older woman crooned, "these things happen for a reason. Perhaps, it just wasn't meant to be."

As she allowed her mother to envelope her in a warm hug, Ginny found herself suddenly reminded of what Mrs. Weasley used to say to her as a child. Be careful what you wish for; you just might get it. Even as a little girl, Ginny had understood when you finally get something you desperately wished for, it had the habit of never turning out the way you imagined it should. Now, reflecting on all the years of wishing for Harry Potter to love her, Ginny felt helpless and trapped in her own folly.

Happy, boisterous laughter from outside could be heard through the open window and Ginny's heart shuddered and broke. She had only ever wanted Harry to be happy, but for him to be happy without her felt horribly wrong. She burrowed her head into her mother's shoulder, hiding from the laughter.

Molly tilted Ginny's face upwards and looked fondly down at her daughter. "My baby," she murmured, "my beautiful baby girl- all grown up." Molly smiled at her. "You're the strongest woman I know, Ginevra. I know you'll get through this." She took in Ginny's dubious expression and chuckled lightly. "I know it doesn't seem like it now, but it'll get better. After all, time heals all wounds." Molly smiled. "Someday you'll look back on this and find that it doesn't hurt anymore."

But Ginny wanted it the hurt to stop now. She didn't want to be in pain anymore. She wanted to forget that she loved him. She wanted to forget that he was caring and wonderful and sweet. She wanted to erase the memory of the way his eyes used to glow when he looked at her and the way his kisses felt in the sunshine. But most of all, Ginny wanted to forget the way it felt to be deliriously happy. If she forgot what that happiness felt like, then, perhaps, her current misery wouldn't seem quite so acute. After all, Ginny had been perfectly content before Harry decided that he liked her. She wanted to go back to that.

Molly stood up from her perch on Ginny's bed and pulled the younger women up as well. "Come help me in the kitchen," she said, tugging Ginny toward the door. "Work is always a welcome distraction in times such as these."

Ginny allowed herself to be led downstairs and tied into an apron, resolving herself to put on a brave face. Molly handed her a wooden spoon and instructed her to stir the brownie batter that had lain forgotten while she consoled her daughter. At first, Ginny just stared numbly at the bowl, but as the sounds of laughter from the open doorway became more and more frequent, she felt her ire rising and took out her aggression on the poor batter.

What right did he have toying with her like that? The least he could have done was tell her that he had no intention of resuming their old relationship, instead of letting her hang around like a silly love-struck schoolgirl. She grabbed a baking dish from a cupboard and slammed the cupboard door closed. She must have looked like a stupid, naïve idiot for the past three years. The batter was slopped into the pan roughly as she fumed. How could he have been such a selfish, horrid, dim-witted, cowardly prat? The pan was shoved into the oven angrily. She had half a mind to tell her brothers about his behavior. The image her imagination supplied brought a bitter smile to her face.

Her mother's hand on her own broke Ginny's thoughts of revenge. "Ginny dear," the older woman said gently, taking the wooden spoon from her- Ginny was surprised to notice she had been clenching it in a white-knuckled fist- "why don't you get your brothers to help you set the table?"

Ginny nodded tersely and untied the apron, slinging it haphazardly over a chair before stomping outside. She crossed the lawn to where her three youngest brothers sat with Harry, laughing loudly over something or another. Their good spirits only served to add fuel to her foul temper. Hermione, ever the perceptive one, shot her a worried look from where she was engrossed in conversation with Arthur. Ginny ignored her. She was in no mood to explain herself.

She stopped in front of the boys, glaring. "You two," she barked, stabbing her finger in the directions of the twins, "plates and silverware. You," she turned her attention to Ron, "cups and-"

"Ah, c'mon, Ginny," Ron complained as he stood to his feet. "Can't you?"

Ginny's expression was thunderous and she took a threatening step forward, forcing her brother back a step. "Ron, so help me God-" she bellowed, clenching her fists at her side as if to restrain herself from hitting her brother. All conversation in the backyard fell silent at her loud exclamation. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Bill giving her a stern look. She turned the force of her glare on him, but her eldest brother had never caved to her displays of temper and his look of disproval only deepened.

"Can I do anything, Gin?" Harry interrupted tentatively, looking everywhere but at her.

The ceramic pitcher on the picnic table exploded suddenly as Ginny felt something hot inside her burst. She felt like hitting something and it showed on her face when she wheeled on Harry. "You can shove off and die, Harry Potter," she snarled before storming back to the house.

"Geez," she heard Ron comment to Harry, "what'd you do to get her so hacked off?"

Harry sounded annoyed. "I didn't do anything to her."

Her rage, which had burned so hotly just moments before, faltered. While part of her was angry that he didn't know, the other part wanted to curl up and cry. Was she so inconsequential to him? When had his feelings for her changed so dramatically? She could feel the hot prick of tears gather at the corners of her eyes and she quickened her steps, her sense of feminine survival overwhelming everything else. She would not cry in front of him. Like thousands of women before her, Ginny promised herself that she would never- could never- let him see how much he had hurt her.

She slammed the backdoor shut after she entered, only to be greeted with muffled cursing from her brothers who had been right behind her. Her mother turned from the stove and shot her a reproving look. She bit her lip and hesitated for a moment, guilty for taking her frustration out on them.

"Bloody hell, Ginny," Ron snapped after he opened the door, rubbing his nose where the door had hit it. He shot her an irritated look. "What crawled up your arse?" Behind him, the twins exchanged glances, clearly amused by Ron's injury, before assessing her with eerily similar looks of concern. Her guilt intensified and she made to explain, but quickly snapped her mouth shut when she noticed Harry standing just behind them, his expression a mixture of worry and irritation.

"Nothing," she said stiffly, turning and grabbing the bowl of salad on the table. Elbowing her way passed her brothers, she carried the bowl to the table and tried to ignore Harry's gaze as it bore into her back. She plopped the bowl onto the table and squeezed her eyes shut, fighting to stay in control of her wild emotions. One minute she was angry; the next she was depressed. What was wrong with her? She was turning into a psychopath.

"Ginny?"

She cracked one eye open at Hermione's tentative tone. "I'm fine," she said automatically, crossing her arms close to her chest. She really didn't feel like discussing her problem with one of his best friends.

Hermione didn't look convinced. "You look like you're about to cry. You're obviously not fine."

"Listen to Hermione, Ginny," Ron said sagely as he joined them, glasses in his hands. "She's a girl. She knows what she's talking about."

Ginny glared at him. "I said I'm fine."

"Leave her be, Ron," Charlie said from behind her. "If Ginny says she's fine, then she's fine." She turned and shot him a grateful look. She could always count on Charlie to come to her defense. He smiled in response and put a warm hand on her shoulder. Behind him Ginny could see Fred, George and Harry exiting the kitchen, their arms laden with food dishes. She scowled.

Charlie's gaze followed her own. "What did the dunderheads do this time?" he asked, frowning.

She glanced up at him and pursed her lips. "The twins didn't do anything."

Hermione exchanged a look with Ron. Understanding dawned in Charlie's eyes and his expression darkened. Ginny saw this and she turned to face him fully, placing a restraining hand on his arm.

"Charlie, don't," she said. He raised an eyebrow questioningly and she shook her head. "He's not worth it."

"He used to be," Ron said quietly, careful not to let his voice carry to the approaching threesome and, for once, showing an uncommonly sensitive front. Hermione nodded her agreement.

"He used to mean the world to you," the older girl said softly.

Tears threatened to overspill and Ginny bit the inside of her cheek. There she went, turning into a psychopath again. "Not anymore," she said firmly. It was true, she reminded herself. As of exactly twenty-seven minutes ago, Harry Potter wasn't worth a minute of Ginny's time. She tried to make herself believe it, but the little rebellious part of her heart lurched at her words.

Nonetheless, Charlie glared at Harry, who had begun to look nervous at her older brother's stormy expression. "Gin, your mum needs you in the kitchen," he said when he and the twins neared, shooting Ron and Hermione a questioning glance. Ron shook his head negatively and mouthed the word 'later' to his friend.

Ginny tried to smother the feeling of betrayal as she watched Ron's silent communication. She told herself that it was irrational and he shouldn't have to choose between his sister and his best friend of nearly a decade, but she couldn't help but feel let down. Charlie gave her a quick, spontaneous hug before she turned to depart for the kitchen and she smiled gratefully at him as she slipped away. There was a reason why Charlie was her favorite.

"Ah, Ginny, there you are," her mother said when Ginny re-entered the house. She thrust a plate and a small bowl of sauce into her daughter's hands. "Be a dear and take this to your father. I don't trust your brothers to get within ten meters of the barbecue, not after what happened last year."

Ginny snorted. To say that last year had been a memorable Weasley family get-together was like calling Draco Malfoy a blond- a vast understatement. Last year's barbecue had been pure, unadulterated chaos. Not only had the twins planted fireworks amongst the charcoal in the base of the grill- which ultimately resulted in the loss of her father's left eyebrow- but Bill arrived bad-tempered and reeking of Ogden's, likely due to his recent separation from his wife of four years. Her eldest brother's intoxication and apparent disillusionment with love had done little good when Percy and his on-again-off-again girlfriend, Penny, had a huge all-out row in the middle of dinner. Bill seemed more content to egg his younger brother on rather than restrain him. And, as if that weren't enough, the twins had managed to slip a modified recipe of their popular canary creams into the pitcher of pumpkin juice. The entire family had spent the remainder of the evening spontaneously bursting into brightly feathered birds. Molly Weasley had not been happy. Bill, however, had been in hysterics.

Ginny shook her head ruefully and grinned at the memory as she made her way towards her father where he hovered over the grill. In short, last summer's annual barbeque was everything one comes to expect from a large gathering of Weasleys.

"Mum sent me over with these," she said coming to stand next to her father.

He turned and smiled brilliantly. "Thank you, pumpkin," he said, taking the proffered dishes. He poked and prodded the sizzling meats for a moment before glancing covertly at her from the corner of his eye. "So," he began, hesitantly, as if he were unsure of how to voice his next words.

Ginny, who had been ready to turn and report back to the kitchen, stopped and looked questionably at her father. "Yes?"

"I trust that your tiff with your brothers has been cleared up?"

She sighed and plopped down in the nearby lawn chair, frowning. "Yes and no," she grumbled. "It wasn't really with them, per say."

He fiddled with the tongs for a moment, idly pushing the chicken around the grill. "Harry, then?" he asked, his gaze fixed on the cooking meat.

Ginny smirked inwardly. Everyone always assumed Arthur Weasley was scatterbrained, but there were times when he proved himself to be quite observant. Of course, she shouldn't be surprised- her father was especially alert when it came to the affairs of his youngest. She was daddy's little girl more than anything else.

"Ginny?" her father questioned when she didn't answer. She looked up and smiled reassuringly at his worried expression.

"I'm alright, Dad," she said, "just thinking, s'all."

He nodded in understanding and watched as her gaze was drawn to the table where Ron and Harry were deep in discussion. She frowned.

"Are you sure everything's alright, Gin-bug?" he asked, gently.

She looked up at his with wide eyes, and blinked back a sudden rush of tears. "No," she said bluntly, hating how her voice wavered. Arthur, never one for seeing his baby upset, set aside the tongs and drew her to her feet, pulling her into his arms. Ginny burrowed her face into his shirt, relishing in the scent of fresh-cut grass that clung to him. Her mum always smelt of warm things, like nutmeg, wool and vanilla, but her father was made of a crisp, earthy scent that energized and refreshed her senses.

"It's just that-" suddenly, all the words were on the tip of her tongue, but she stopped herself abruptly and looked up at him, offering a watery smile instead. She was a Gryffindor, damnit. "Nothing alright," she said firmly, "but it will be."

He squeezed her hard. "That's my girl."