This Is War, After All

Ginny Weasley went about her daily business; she stepped into Quizzean's for a quick lunch, picked up a message from the Post Office, paused for a conversation with a Ministry employee, and then purchased some parchment from the Scrivener's.

She never noticed she was being followed.

He trailed her diligently, holding himself back at a safe distance as she maneuvered the length of Diagon Alley. When necessary, he would move closer to her; duly he noted the number of her post-box and overheard enough of her conversation with the younger Ministry worker to know that it was innocuous.

Inevitably, he lost her after she had disappeared into a small dress shop. He wanted to go in after her but the store was too small and too empty to enter unnoticed, so he waited. And waited. An hour passed, then another, all the while he remained hidden in the shadowed recess of a building on the other side of the alley. He knew she had probably Apparated out, but he couldn't take the chance of giving up. Only when the sun began to set did he realize the chase was up. He drew his wand to Apparate, but stopped short when the door to the shop opened again, for the first time since he had been there.

A woman of different stature than Weasley exited into the purple twilight air. He immediately recognized the ugly, bushy brown locks peeping out from her hood and took in a sharp breath. If she was there, and Weasley had entered, then this could be no simple dress shop. It made sense, after all: why would Weasley have entered a shop before Apparating, anyway? People popped out of the Diagon Alley streets all the time. He was convinced the store was a front, especially since Granger began to close the store up, affirming that she did indeed run the place.

She looked alert but not nervous, probably because there was still a safe amount of people populating the alley. He waited for her to finish and hurry off, considered following her but decided against it, then Apparated home to Malfoy Manor.

* * *

Ginny stepped out of the Portal and found herself in the clearing. It was still light out, just late afternoon, and the clear sunlight sifted through the still-green leaves at the top of the trees that surrounded her, speckling the grassy ground. She was deep in the Forbidden Forest, in an area far away from most intelligent species. Ten tall, thick oaks ranged in a perfect circle, about seven or eight meters in diameter. The Portal floated rhythmically about the area of the circle. This was the only place in the world from which it was possible to Apparate to 12 Grimmauld Place. It was a beautiful spot, but Ginny rarely spared attention to appreciate it.

She took a moment to get her bearings, then drew her wand and Apparated with a loud crack. She was looking forward to the meeting that awaited her.

The foyer of Sirius' old home and the troll leg umbrella stand were all that greeted her upon arrival, for which she was grateful. She had feared her mother might be lurking around, and she didn't want to see her.

"Hello?" she called easily, heading down the stairs to the kitchen. There was no longer any fear of awaking Mrs. Black, as with the death of Sirius her bond with the wall had weakened and Lupin was able to remove her and stow her, behind thick curtains covered with a silencing charm, in the attic. A small smile spread across Ginny's face at the bittersweet memory. That had been over four years ago.

The kitchen was empty, so Ginny assumed the house was empty enough. Some Order member might be hovering about the second floor, but not the person she had come to see. She grabbed a pitcher of pumpkin juice from the icebox and poured a glass, sitting herself down at the table. From her pocket she drew the thin roll of parchment she had received in her post-box. Post-boxes were used for transactions in which one did not wish to divulge one's name or location; ideal for Order business.

Ginny cut the twine with the knife she kept strapped to her thigh, and unrolled it on the tabletop. It was a short enough missive:

Have obtained the asphodel you desired, but only half the amount requested; unable to risk acquiring more until a later date. Please reply with desired delivery date.

A sigh escaped her lips unwillingly; Snape was going to be so let down, and she had been counting on completing this seemingly simple request of his. But the fact of the matter was that this was wartime, and important potions ingredients were in short order. Ginny had been referred to this source indirectly by Mundungus Fletcher, and it had been the best of her leads; even so, it wouldn't satisfy her mentor.

The pumpkin juice was too watery and she pushed it away in annoyance, sighing again into the darkness of the underground kitchen.

"I trust that is a sigh of satisfaction, Miss Weasley, and not of frustration?" She knew the owner of the voice even before looking up to see her old Potions master enter the room, black robes open over Muggle pants and shirt. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise at his dress.

"Where have you been?"

"That's not your concern, and you did not answer my question." She frowned sourly.

"Well I'd advise you to place your trust elsewhere, then." His face grew immediately more rigid and he sat down across from her.

"How poorly did you do?" Ginny felt her heart seizing with the pain of having failed him yet again; he may not have said it, but she could sense the "this time" that ought to have been tacked onto the end of his question. She looked away from him to avoid crying.

"Only one lead followed through to an actual seller."

"And?"

"Half," she blurted, the word squeezing her heart harder as it came out. She had to look at him, and she saw that his face had darkened considerably.

"Half? Half a kilogram?" He cursed elegantly, but that was the extent of his display. His face regained the mask she used to see in his class, and she knew he was already moving on. It was something she was slowly learning--not to let anything disappoint her. "Very well. Secure the asphodel as soon as you can--hopefully it will all be usable. How about the boomslang?"

"Nothing yet, Sir," which felt bad to say, too, though he had just given her that assignment the previous day.

"Fine. Once you've finished with the asphodel, I need you to get working on the ingredients for these Potions." He handed her a folded piece of parchment; she quickly opened it and scanned the page, having to stifle a sigh. It never ended, both the Ministry and the Order demanding Regenerating Potion, Draught of Living Death, Subtlety Potion, Blood-replenishing Potion, Healing Elixir...Snape worked tirelessly, and she had to keep his cupboards well-stocked. It was a work-intensive job, but one that had to get done.

"Understood. I'll get right on it."

"I had better be going then. As always, I could use your help at Hogwarts tonight."

"I'll try to get there if I can, sir." He rose and left the kitchen unceremoniously; she listened to his footsteps as he passed up the stairs and out of the house. Ginny already missed him. Snape was one of the few people she saw on a regular basis, and the only one she tolerated.

Other than Snape she saw her mother, of course, and her father less frequently. But the former was overbearing and the latter wanted too much for her, to make up for his own life. He wanted her to spend time making friends, to get a boyfriend, to stay uninvolved in the war. All of it impossible. Where, for example, was she going to meet friends? Her office consisted of back alleys and a post-box through which she organized mostly illicit deals with black-market sellers. As for not being heavily involved in the war...absurd.

And the last thing she wanted now was a boyfriend. She hadn't since sixth year. The only person she could ever love was Harry, she knew now, and it had proved to be a futile love. She'd given that up long ago; she no longer loved him. She wasn't really sure if she loved anyone at all, except for Snape. And that thought had so much wrong with it that she never liked to dwell on it.

In any case, a job needed to be done.

The first thing Ginny did was send an owl to the post-box of her asphodel dealer, saying she wanted to arrange a Portkey transfer, not a shipment, for that evening. An hour later a grey owl feather materialized in front of her, signifying she had received a message in her post-box. She Apparated back to the clearing and took the Portal to Hermione's store.

The Portal opened up into the basement; upon stumbling out she smoothed the dust off of her robes and climbed the stairs into the backroom. Hermione was there, seated at her desk with about six thick books open in front of her, taking notes furiously. Ginny cleared her throat loudly.

"Herm?"

"Oh, hello, Gin. How're you?" Ginny didn't bother to answer, knowing Hermione wasn't really listening anyway. She had ears only for Harry and Ron.

"See you later."

"Yeah, sure." Hermione waved over her shoulder distractedly. Ginny Apparated directly to the Apparition area of the Post Office, then headed for her box, #3679, entered the passcode and whispered the incantation with her wand to open it. Ignoring protocol of reading such correspondence only in private--(who was watching her, anyhow?)--she tucked herself in an empty corner and perused the parchment. The vendor had agreed to her terms.

Next she Apparated to her own flat, and hurried to her bedroom. A quick glance at her bedside clock let her know that she had three hours before the rendezvous; that was fine, then. From underneath her bed she pulled a magically sealed box an charmed it open. Inside was the money given to her by Snape for her transactions. She took out exactly how much she would need for that night.

Now she had three hours to kill. That gave her time to start on Snape's new list. She settled herself in her usual seat at her kitchen table, and set Snape's parchment hovering in front of her. Then she began the first steps of acquiring ingredients that she knew so well: the potions had to be prioritized in order of importance, then she detailed what ingredients were in each of them and how much was used for the amounts requested. Occasionally she had to cross-check those of the more complex concoctions with her reference books, and finally she could begin to cross off the ones Snape had enough of in his private store. These days, that never eliminated much.

Once that was done Ginny brainstormed as many sources as she knew that could or might provide some of the goods. There were several regulars she could always count on to have some things available, but aside from them she examined any connections she had spotted before that might be leads.

But all of that was the easy part. All that she could complete in the comfort of her own flat. What came next was more labor-intensive, more dangerous, and more interesting.

Not that she had reached that step, yet. In three hours she had managed only to complete a fraction of the lists and slap together a roast beef sandwich. Now she had to create her unauthorized Portkey, always a dangerous task, and make the trade with the asphodel peddler. The Portkey-making didn't take long, and Ginny grabbed her pouch of galleons and activated it.

She whirled and twirled in the vortex between Portkey sites, her galleons jingling enthusiastically. When she dropped onto her destination she managed to remain standing, and immediately drew her wand and pulled her hood over her bright hair. No one was around in the small, dark alley where she had landed. The streets beyond were Muggle streets, and a few lone night-strollers passed by the alley, not noticing it. This place, creatively dubbed "The Back Alley" because it was located behind the limits of Diagon Alley, was one of the several safe-spots to conduct magical trade in London, and invisible to Muggles. Its exact coordinates were unknown even to wizards; so one could not Apparate there, only key a Portkey to its site.

A minute after she arrived, a cloaked figure appeared out of thin air clutching a mug, and tumbled to the ground. He jumped up and pulled out his wand, as she had. She noticed he was clutching a burlap sack in his left hand and figured it was her man, but did not lower her wand.

"Christmas?" she whispered, giving her code word. The man visibly relaxed.

"New Year's," he replied, and they dropped their wands and approached each other. "Let's get this over with," he said. As per custom, they both placed their Portkeys on the ground before exchanging their pouches in unison. Ginny ripped hers open with a quick efficiency and examined the contents.

"Don't you move a muscle," she growled, directing her wand at the figure before her. He was counting the galleons she had given him. "D'you think I'm stupid? This isn't half a kilo--lucky if it's a third! What are you trying to pull?"

"I-I know," he replied nervously. "At the last minute I-I realized I didn't have quite enough."

"And you thought you'd take my money without delivering what you promised? I hate cheats. Stupefy." With a gentle Stunning hex the man was entirely unprepared for she knocked him out, then rapidly weighed the asphodel with her wand--it was exactly one-third of a kilo. Snape was going to hate her. Hurriedly Ginny grabbed her money pouch from the unconscious man and took back some of the money, leaving him with the appropriate payment. Then she took two more galleons for good measure.

Back in her flat Ginny examined the asphodel--at least all of it was usable. It was now 9:30 and she had been working since early that morning, but still, she couldn't leave Snape on his own. Ginny opened her floo gate and chucked some powder in, flooing to his dungeon.

"Professor?" she called as she stumbled out of his empty fireplace into his Slytherin-green office. On the other side of the room was the fireplace he used for potion-making, which presently held an iron cauldron bubbling over a cheerful blue flame.

Professor Snape stood in front of his workbench at the back of the room, his back to Ginny. She could see, as she walked over wiping her feet on the green carpet, that he was bottling Pepper-up Potion.

"Nothing better to do?" she surmised sarcastically.

"Poppy has been throwing a fit," he replied without turning. "I have had to turn away three sniffling students already and something must be done about it!" His impression was spot on, as they always were when he deigned to make a joke, and Ginny laughed freely. "Now if it's not beyond your capabilities, Miss Weasley, reverse the spoon in the fire. It's just about time." With a careful flick of her wand Ginny set the spoon that was stirring the potion in the fireplace from moving clockwise to counter-clockwise.

"Subtlety Potion?"

"Mm-hmm." She helped him bottle for a moment, then finally told him,

"I got the asphodel."

"Oh!" Snape stopped what he was doing immediately and turned to her, wiping his bony hands on a rag. "Then we can get to the Draught." He held out a hand for the pouch, but Ginny hesitated, biting her lip.

"The dealer didn't quite come through, though, sir." His hand fell to his side and she could read the despair in his face, though he hid it instinctively.

"So what do you have?"

"A third of a kilo." She plunked the pouch on the table and he opened it, peering inside and shaking his head.

"That's it?"

"That's it." Her voice was barely above a whisper. Would she ever stop letting him down? The work he did provided the main supply of the Order's potions, as well as that of many Aurors. He depended on her, even as she failed him time and again. But he had to keep her on, as no one else had the connections that she had. Ginny had been working the underground trade community since the summer after sixth year, when her twin brothers had taken her along with them to purchase some necessary contraband. That entire summer had been spent acquainting her with the black-market world--unbeknownst to her parents, of course--and since then no one in the Order could work the network like she could. Other than Fred and George, that is, but they'd spent their time making connections for different sorts of substances. The same thing went for Mundungus Fletcher, so the job was all Ginny's, especially since she was the only one who had time to do it. But she, unfortunately, was terrible at it.

"Well, we'll do what we can, of course," Snape went on, and for the next few hours Ginny helped him start the fifteen batches of the Draught of Living Death that they had enough ingredients to brew. He had been commissioned to concoct forty-five batches.

Finally Snape decided to stop for the night, as they were both slowing down, and sent her home. Ginny wasn't sure if he ever slept, but he knew she wouldn't leave until he stopped working. Though embarrassing, Ginny appreciated the frequent gesture. She flooed home and climbed directly into bed.

One complete day in the life of nineteen-year-old Ginny Weasley.

Each day was essentially the same, interspersed with Order meetings and conferences with her twin brothers, visits home, and of course the not-so-occasional attack or battle or casualty report or tragedy. This was wartime, after all, and Ginny did have to defend herself (and others) with her wand sometimes.

The only thing that disrupted her regimen was encountering Harry. Even dueling with Death Eaters didn't depress Ginny the way seeing and talking to him did. Currently he spent his time on scouting missions for the Order, tracking Death Eater activities in and around the continent. He only rarely came back to see them, as part of his current mission was to say out of Voldemort's way until he had figured out a way to destroy him. But when he did come...

Well, Ginny was no longer in love with him; that was a given. But he represented all she could ever love, and when he spoke in that noble, weighed-down voice of his it reminded Ginny of how much she lacked for not being close to him. Harry seemed perhaps as depressed as she was, though at least he had outlets; friends to cheer him when he allowed himself to be consoled. Everyone Ginny knew adored him; as lonely as he felt, he could never be alone. Ginny, on the other hand, was not adored. She was indeed loved...but not by people she loved in return.

Once she had loved all of her family. But then this madness had begun, and how could she love them, when her mother had gone nearly insane with anxiety for her children, when her father had worked so hard he had no energy left to care for his own life, when the twins became obsessed with creating dangerous weapons of war, when Charlie focused every iota of his attention on his dragons, when Percy kowtowed to whomever was in power and when Bill had been killed? They were all changed, and had become people she no longer knew or had the strength to love.

As for Ron...he and Hermione cared only about each other and Harry. The three of them formed a Holy Trinity that all could worship but none penetrate. Ginny did not resent them of it too much, but she was very aware of it, and while she could not hold it against Harry, it influenced her feelings for Ron. Unfair, perhaps, but undeniably true.

Growing up in such a large family, Ginny never expected to feel alone in her life. But there it was. And the biggest problem of all was that she felt no joy. Only Snape made her smile, and she only got to see him about twice a week, and he only cracked a joke about once a month. His life surely was even bleaker than hers: he faced possible death at every Death Eater meeting. For Ginny, that contributed to the kinship she felt with him. Two miserable apothecaries struggling together to protect themselves and the people they worked with but hardly cared about.

What Ginny did not know was that her death was much closer at hand than her mentor's.

Over the next two and a half months a slight change entered her life in the form of that Great Motivator: desperation. As failure after failure mounted up in her name, the pressure began to weigh on her conscience. She had to come through for the Aurors and Order members who depended on her, but even more so, she had to come through for Snape. He was the only person who both helped her and relied on her, and he treated her as a peer. He rarely expressed frustration with her or suggested that she was practically a liability to the cause, though it was true. He worked endlessly to help even the people he hated because he knew it was the right thing to do. He made a difference. He made do, somehow, with the little she provided him with, altering and developing potion proportions to stretch further. Ginny had learned that he was one of the Order's most important assets.

It became her life's goal to live up to his standards. She never expected to achieve his level of excellence, but it seemed necessary that she at least match a fraction of his abilities. Though he never complained, as he was too patient for that, she knew he needed more ingredients, and she knew she had to increase her output. Ginny mistakenly thought that she was not good enough and made Snape her idol.

She pressed her contacts for more names and followed through on everything, no matter how shady a connection seemed. She traveled out of the country and convinced sellers--by stooping to bullying and threats--to meet with her even during the light of day. Yet with all this extra effort, her results improved only marginally. Her sleep deprivation, on the other hand, increased dramatically as September flowed into October and the weather grew wetter.

"Why haven't you been coming home lately?" an irate Molly Weasley demanded the instant Ginny had opened her floo gate.

"Y'know, Mum, I opened the gate so I could arrange a meeting with Professor Snape, not to receive calls."

"Ginny! Don't speak to me that way! Do you know how worried your father and I have been? You haven't been home in weeks!"

"Mum, I'm busy. I have so much to do--"

"You don't look as if you've been sleeping much, either, Ginevra. Why, look at those bags you have under your eyes!" Ginny groaned inwardly, realizing the glamour she had cast to hide the saggy skin under her eyes must have worn off. "You look terrible, Gin, dear. Why don't you come home and take a break?"

"I can't. You know I can't. If I take a day off I'd just have to make up for the time I missed. And that's practically impossible. You know what I do is important, Mum."

"The work you do is too much for you, that's what."

"Well instead of complaining about it, why don't you help me? Tell one of your sons to help me do this! I wish I could hire an assistant, but I sure as hell don't have the money, and neither does the Order."

"Your brothers are overworked, too, Gin."

"Fine! Enough! If all you're going to do is lecture me about what I already know but can do nothing about, then I'm going to go, Mum. I have much more important things to do." And with that she closed the connection. Perhaps she had been a bit bratty, but really, there was no other way to deal with Molly Weasley; she saw what she saw and her opinion was law.

If Snape noticed that as October progressed Ginny grew paler and more tired, he said nothing. Their late-night brewing sessions continued as ever; he didn't shorten his work hours for her sake, and she was grateful for that, as she knew she could handle what tasks he gave her.

What did affect her was that he didn't seem to notice the slight increase in the amount of ingredients she was stocking him with. Ginny understood that he would only notice when her improvement was significant. Enough boomslang skin for an extra three batches of Subtlety Potion hardly made a difference. But how could she increase her efficiency?

A few clever innovations on her part provided the answer for that. Ginny charmed three quills to list the ingredients of several frequently-requested potions on her command, which partially alleviated the time spent in list-making. She charmed a piece of parchment hung on the wall of her flat to relay an updated list of what Snape had in his supply closets which reduced the back-and-forth communication needed.

As October faded dully into November, Ginny began making adjustments that were not so clever. Everywhere she went she rushed, and so she grew careless. Because of this, at various times during the month she had forgotten her knife, had left the Apparation wards down on her house after leaving, had left the wards up before arriving and nearly splinched herself, and above all, her most frequent offense was not remaining alert wherever she went. But a person as busy as she couldn't possibly remain as alert as she had once been. It was a necessary sacrifice.

Sacrifice turned out to be the right word. This was wartime, after all.

Ginny made her fatal mistake in late November, around the time when American wizards were celebrating their turkey-obsessive day of Thanks. She had met with one peddler at sunset, at a table outside of Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlor, but the man had been slow and tried to back out on part of the deal. Running late, Ginny Apparated home to drop off the Erumpent fluid she'd just acquired--in excellent quantities--then prepared herself for the evening's Order meeting. She had to change her robes, especially when she saw the rain pelting her window.

Ginny Apparated back to Diagon Alley and briskly walked towards Hermione's shop. She was running quite late and could only hope the store was still open. It was not. Hissing curses and kicking at the door for a few minutes, Ginny knew she had two choices: break into Hermione's store or miss the meeting. If she missed the meeting her whole family would give her hell and Snape would have to waste time filling her in on what she had missed. She couldn't ask that of him, and so instead of going home Ginny made her mistake.

Cursorily glancing around to make sure no one was watching her, she drew her wand and began taking down the wards on Hermione's shop. Ginny slipped in quickly and immediately restored the wards, sure she was safe. She hurried through the storefront and unlocked the door to the backroom, leaving it open behind her. Tucking her wand away in its holster, she climbed through the trapdoor, leaving it open as well. Mistake after mistake after mistake.

Ginny headed to a round, translucent hole on a wall in the back of the basement. The hole was made of a milky cream-colored substance that swirled and eerily lit the basement room. Ginny hated this part. She put her arm in first, and then her shoulder, and finally she threw the rest of herself in, a feeling of cool clamminess surrounding her. The next instant she had tumbled onto a patch of muddy grass. A dark forest surrounded her and rain poured down upon her head

"Bugger!" she cried, jumping up off of the wet ground. Now she was going to be late and wet. She took out her luminescent pocket watch and glanced at it. Why, at that moment, she paused to look at the time when she had rushed through everything else that night, Ginny would never get the chance to ponder. She had just noted that it was half past seven when another figure leaped out from the Portal.

Not knowing who it was Ginny backed up rapidly and reached for her wand, but before she could get a hand to it, he had Summoned it faster than she could intercept.

"Sorry about this," a vaguely familiar voice said, not sounding very regretful at all. Ginny's every nerve tuned to a fight-or-flight response. Running from him through the forest was totally futile and the Portal was hovering languidly behind him, so her only option was to fight. Quickly. Faster than a broom dive Ginny pulled her knife out and charged at him. He was much too ready for her.

"Stupefy!" he cried before she had taken two leaps, and Ginny fell backwards as she fought the hex. She could not afford unconsciousness now, and within a few seconds she had forced her eyes open.

But a few seconds proved to be too long, and through the dimness of the woods she could make out the silhouette of the man standing over her. He was wearing Death Eater robes. In one hand he held her wand and knife, and in the other was his own wand, trained directly at her heart. Frightened into paralysis Ginny keened her eyesight until she found his grey eyes through the obscurity.

"Avada Kedavra," he said clearly, and the last thought she had was that the green light matched Snape's room décor perfectly.