The First Day

Ginny looked up from her Charms textbook, watching Harry flip through a journal on potion-making. She had never seen him tackle studying with such fervor before. Not even his O.W.L. year. 'Why do you study potions so much now?' she asked idly, turning a page.

Harry didn't look up from the notes he was making. 'Need it for work. It was my weakest subject in school,' he said. He looked up at Ginny with an expression she couldn't read. 'But not entirely my fault.' His head bent back to his work once more. 'Nor his,' he added so softly, Ginny wasn't sure she'd heard him right.

'Of course it was his,' Ginny snorted. 'I've looked through some of those books you've been studying,' she told him. 'He never taught us half of what's in there.' Ginny rummaged through the pile of books next to Harry. She picked up the smallest one Harry consulted the most and leafed through it. 'Most of this should have been taught to us our first two years.'

Harry remained conspicuously silent. It struck Ginny as odd, since he'd always used any excuse to make a negative comment about Snape.

Ginny raised an eyebrow. 'That's the first time I've ever seen you not say anything negative about him,' she observed.

Harry hitched a shoulder in reply. 'People can change,' he said diffidently.

'And you think he did?'

'I know he did.' Harry closed the journal and tossed it toward his old schoolbag. He got to his feet and set off down the garden, wishing the die-hard reporters who still camped outside the Weasleys' fence would go away. He'd give anything to go on a nice long walk without having to Apparate to another county, or even just to go to the village or Diagon Alley without people staring at him.

'How do you know?' Ginny said, slightly breathless. She'd had to run to catch up with him.

Harry came to a stop in the middle of the paddock. 'I told you he gave me his memories, right?'

'Yeah. You said he'd helped you last year.'

Harry tipped his head back to study the cloud formations overhead. 'I saw everything. From the day he met my mum, until right before he brought Gryffindor's sword to me.' Harry turned abruptly and headed for the relative sanctuary of the hammock. 'Do you think we get Sorted too early?' he asked suddenly.

Ginny trailed after him, bewildered. 'Sorry. Say again?'

'None of us are the same person we were when we got there,' Harry mused, perching in the hammock gingerly.

'Of course not,' Ginny argued. 'We're older, more mature.'

'Well, yes,' Harry agreed. 'But does it know who we really are, or where we're going to end up?' He leaned back in the hammock, watching the shadows and light through the leaves overhead. 'Take Pettigrew, for example...'

'Who is that?' Ginny interrupted. 'The name sounds familiar.'

Harry shrugged. 'He was - was - one of my parents' friends. When they went into hiding, he was their Secret-Keeper. So he told Riddle where to find them.' Harry laughed a bitter, ironic laugh. 'He was Sorted into Gryffindor. And Snape, who was Sorted into Slytherin... Snape is why I'm alive and wasn't killed years ago.'

'Sorting doesn't define who you are,' Ginny countered.

'Maybe,' Harry conceded. 'But how do we know it doesn't set you on a path for the rest of your life when you're only eleven? Doesn't seem fair, somehow...'

Ginny's brows knit in a frown. 'I think you're going to have to start at the beginning with this one.'

Harry sighed and pulled his glasses off, sliding them into the pocket of his shirt. 'Snape and my mum knew each other. When they were younger. Before they even started school. They lived in the same village.'

'Really?'

Harry drew a deep breath. 'Yeah. They were friends, too.'

'Didn't see that one coming,' Ginny muttered.

Harry rubbed his forehead with a shaking hand. 'Me, either.' He rubbed the cuff of his shirt sleeve over his face. 'She - Mum - she defended him to the other Gryffindors when they questioned their friendship. Until the day they weren't friends anymore.'

'What happened?' Ginny asked quietly.

Harry blew out a shaky breath. 'He called her a -' Harry swallowed hard. He hated thinking the word, much less saying it. 'Mudblood,' he said tightly.

'Why would he say something like that if they were friends?'

'Well, Dad and Sirius liked to wind him up. And after the Defense O.W.L., Dad started harassing him, and when Mum tried to play interference, Snape turned on her,' Harry sighed. 'I can almost understand why he did that,' he confessed reluctantly. Harry's eyes closed against the bright sunshine. Humiliation often made people lash out in anger, and he'd seen Ron do it far too many times when they were younger to mistake Snape's reaction to Lily trying to defend him for anything else. He shook himself a little. 'He tried to apologize later, but at that point, it was too late. Mum got tired of defending him, and he was already on his way to become a Death Eater.'

'What on earth would make him think she would accept his apology after all that?'

Harry shifted a little in discomfort. 'He was...' Harry coughed and blushed. 'He was in love with her,' he said in a rush. Thinking of Snape actually loving someone in the way he loved Ginny made him wince with unease.

'Okay, that's awkward,' Ginny commented.

'Just a little...' Harry carefully turned on his side. 'You know how my Patronus is a stag, like my Dad's Animagus form?' Ginny nodded. 'Snape's was a doe. Just like Mum's.' Harry felt his eyes begin to inexplicably sting. 'Until he died,' he said, with a hitch to his voice.

'Did your mum know?' Ginny asked hesitantly.

'I don't know. I don't think so.' Harry reached up to tuck a wayward strand of hair behind Ginny's ear. 'I'm not sure it would have mattered to her after...'

'Did she...?' Ginny let a small shrug of her shoulder complete the thought.

Harry tilted his head to watch the shadows again. He slowly inhaled. 'Maybe. She might have, but when he started associating with Death Eaters, I think she might have begun to wonder if he would ever be able to really love her.' Harry rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand. 'He tried to trade Dad and me for her,' he added, almost conversationally.

'When?'

'Before they died. He tried to get Riddle to spare her life, if he gave him Dad and me.' Harry's mouth tipped up in a crooked grin. 'Luckily for me, Riddle told him she was unworthy of Snape's attentions.'

'Not so lucky for Riddle was it?' Ginny said in an attempt to inject a little levity into the conversation.

Harry's mouth twitched. 'No, it wasn't. Not in the end, anyway.'

Ginny was silent for several moments, digesting what Harry had told her. 'You said last month that you asked McGonagall to include him in the memorial service,' she began cautiously.

'Yes...'

'Why?' Ginny repositioned herself in the hammock so she and Harry lay facing each other, noses almost, but not quite, touching. 'He murdered Dumbledore,' she said bluntly.

'No, he didn't,' Harry corrected, almost coldly.

'And you know this for a fact?' Ginny retorted skeptically.

'It was part of the memories he gave me,' Harry returned. 'It was supposed to be Malfoy. Riddle forced Malfoy to take his father's place as a Death Eater, and assigned him to kill Dumbledore.'

'So you were right,' Ginny exclaimed.

'Yeah. Not that I feel good about it,' Harry added. 'But Riddle knew Malfoy was going to fail. And his parents had to sit there for a whole year and watch and wait, knowing what would happen to Malfoy when he did fail.' He lowered his face to Ginny's and rested his forehead against hers. 'I actually felt sorry for them,' he confessed in a tone of near surprise.

'That's because you're capable of empathy,' Ginny said. 'I overheard you once asking what set you apart from him.' She snorted. 'The fact that you even had to ask that should have told you.'

'Well, I realize that now,' Harry told her testily. 'Dumbledore knew Malfoy was going to fail, so he asked Snape to do the honors,' he said ironically. 'Actually,' he added reflectively, 'it wasn't so much asking Snape to murder him as it was asking him to hasten the inevitable.'

'His hand?' Ginny guessed.

'Exactly,' Harry said with a nod. 'It was a curse that was going to kill him shortly anyway.' He heaved a long, slow sigh. 'It helped maintain Snape's cover, at least. Dumbledore told Snape it was to protect Malfoy. To keep from damaging his soul.' A line appeared between Harry's eyebrows. Pensively he said in a low voice, 'I wonder if it helped at all.'

'What do you mean by "damaging his soul"?' Ginny asked nervously.

'When you murder someone, it tears your soul into pieces,' Harry told her.

Ginny's eyes opened wide as a hazy memory of the morning after the battle flashed through her mind. Molly dueling Bellatrix. A flash of green light from Molly's wand. Green light striking Bellatrix over her heart. Bellatrix falling over dead. 'Mum!' she whispered.

'No,' Harry said forcefully. 'No.'

'But I saw her. I saw her kill Bellatrix Lestrange!' Ginny's voice rose in near-hysteria.

'No,' Harry repeated. His brow furrowed as he strained to remember the memory. 'Dumbledore said it was up to that person to know their own soul, and if Snape thought helping him avoid a long, messy death would damage him...'

'So?' Ginny challenged.

'So it's the intent,' Harry breathed, as it dawned on him. 'If Malfoy did it, it would be murder,' he said slowly, thinking aloud. 'If Snape did it, he'd still be killing Dumbledore, but not out of malice.' He sat up rapidly, making the hammock rock wildly. 'Your mum,' he said, his voice tight with tension. 'Molly did it to protect you. To defend you... See? It's completely different.'

'You were there,' Ginny told him. 'You were there, and you saw her. You had to have heard her. The entire Great Hall heard her. If she'd stopped at "Not my daughter!" you could say it was defense. I rather think the "you bitch" might have descended into malice,' she pointed out.

'I don't believe that,' Harry said. 'I can't believe that.'

He reached down and cupped Ginny's face in his hand. Every memory of everything Molly had done for him for the last several months flooded his brain. 'I have to believe she's undamaged.'

******

Ginny sat on her bed, staring at her trunk, sitting at the foot. She hadn't unpacked it, nor bothered to sort through any of her things inside it since she had come home in May. She crawled to the foot of her bed, and flipped the lid back. She had packed so quickly before the Easter holiday last year that she was met with a jumble of half-folded uniforms and Muggle clothing, a welter of dirty socks and tights, and a clutter of textbooks.

She rifled through the trunk with a sigh. The train was in a week, and she didn't want to leave her packing until the last minute. Ginny began to drop her things into piles on the floor - dirty laundry over here; textbooks over there; a pile of broken quills and scraps of parchment next to the trunk. It took a depressingly long time to sort through the mess.

Once the trunk was empty, she glanced into the bottom of it, frowning at an unfamiliar piece of paper wadded into the corner. She reached into the trunk, and pulled out a crumpled photograph, smoothing away the creases. Ginny recognized Colin Creevey's handiwork. He had turned into quite a good photographer over the last few years, with an uncanny ability to take a photograph of just the right moment. Ginny's lips trembled and she pressed them together in an effort to still them. Her fingertip traced the outlines of Harry and her sitting under a tree at Hogwarts her fifth year. They had been unaware anyone was watching them, and their photographic selves were talking animatedly about something. Before exams, before that horrible night, before everything... Inhaling strongly through her nose, Ginny tucked the photograph into one of her Muggle novels.

She thought of Colin's body lying in the Great Hall, so still and small in death. It had hardly taken Neville and Oliver any effort to carry him in from the lawn. It could have just as easily been me, she thought despondently.

Ginny picked up her textbooks and began to carefully pack them into the bottom of the trunk, attempting to still the violent shaking of her hands. The room began to spin dangerously, and Ginny dropped to the edge of the bed, bending forward to put her head between her knees. Slow breaths, Gin... In... Out...

Until that moment, Ginny hadn't appreciated how close she had come to dying.

Ginny squeezed her eyes shut against the waves of nausea that threatened to engulf her. Replaying the scene in her mind, she saw herself, Luna, and Hermione dueling Bellatrix in a flurry of sparks, spells whizzing through the clear morning light, crackling with heat that seemed to scorch the very air they breathed. Ginny could see the jet of green light that flew by her shoulder, her eyes following it as it passed in slow-motion.

She dove for the rubbish bin under her desk, heaving the contents of her stomach into it.

Panting, Ginny groped for one of her uniform shirts, and used it to wipe her mouth. She reached for the glass of water that stood on her night table and rinsed her mouth, spitting the mouthful of water out of the open window. Ginny picked up her wand and Vanished the contents of the rubbish bin. She sat heavily on her bed, looking with no small amount of surprise at the shirt she still held in one hand. Might as well wash them, she thought, contemplating the pile of laundry. Don't think I'm going to sleep any time soon...

*****

Molly's eyes flew open, peering into the darkness that pressed around her. She sat up, her head cocked to the side, listening. She heard a scraping sound come from far below, and slid out of bed, careful not to wake Arthur. Molly picked up her dressing gown from the chair where'd she thrown it earlier. She pushed her arms through the sleeves as she slid her feet into her slippers and belted the dressing gown as she descended the stairs, her wand in one hand. Light shone under the gap of the kitchen door, and the sound of a chair grating across the floor made Molly raise her wand a little higher, as she slowly pushed the door open. 'Ginny!' she exclaimed. 'What are you doing up?'

Ginny glanced up from the pile of knickers she was painstakingly folding. 'Couldn't sleep,' she said with a shrug.

Molly eyed the stack of neatly folded skirts, jumpers, and shirts. 'So you decided to unearth your school things and wash them?'

'Better than lying there, staring at the wall.' Ginny set the stack of knickers in the basket and began to sort through the socks.

'Are you feeling all right?' Molly asked fingering a meticulously folded skirt. 'You never put this much attention to detail when you're doing laundry.'

Ginny carefully lined up the seams of a nightdress, trying to avoid looking at Molly. 'How did it feel when you killed Bellatrix Lestrange?' Ginny asked reluctantly. I have to know... Ginny couldn't bear the thought of her mother's soul being damaged for her sake.

'Oh...' Molly sat down in a chair and peeked into the teapot on the table. She tapped it with her wand, and Summoned a cup, then poured herself a cup of tea. Molly drew out the process of adding milk to her tea as long as possible. 'Relieved,' she finally said. 'She could have killed you, or Luna, or Hermione. She could have killed me. And she would have done it, with nary a regret.' Molly took a long sip of her tea.

'Do you?' Ginny blurted.

'Do I regret it?' Molly asked. Ginny nodded. Molly traced the pattern of the grain of the wood of the tabletop with a nail. 'I don't regret doing what I had to do to protect you girls,' she admitted. 'I regret that I had to take a human life to do so.'

'I wouldn't exactly call Bellatrix human,' Ginny huffed.

Molly smiled sadly. 'Either way, if there'd been another option...' She took another steadying sip of her tea. 'Kept me awake for many nights, thinking about if I could have done something different.' Molly set the cup down. 'I didn't like doing it, and it's not something I want to ever have to do again.'

Ginny shifted in her chair, rolling a pair of socks together. 'Harry...' She bit her lip. 'Harry says murdering someone can damage your soul,' she said in a rush.

Molly speared Ginny with a hard look. 'Do you think I murdered her?' she asked calmly.

Ginny was taken aback. 'N-n-n-no,' she stammered, her cheeks flushing a dull red. 'I mean, what happens in a battle isn't the same as cold-bloodedly offing someone for the sheer joy of it, is it?'

Molly gave Ginny a wry sort of smile. 'That's what I keep telling myself.'

*****

Ginny stood in the middle of her room, surveying the empty trunk and the pile of freshly laundered clothing and textbooks currently taking up space on her bed. With a tired sigh, began to layer the bottom of the trunk with her textbooks. Her Quidditch equipment went in next, along with a few pairs of shoes and her Potions kit. She carefully added her clothing, deliberately leaving the jeans and light jumper she'd been wearing during the battle on the end of the bed. The telescope and new broom were the last things she added, before Ginny closed the lid with a soft click. It seemed to echo with an air of finality in the small bedroom.

Ginny's finger traced over the plate on the trunk with her initials. She really would be the only Weasley at Hogwarts this year. She didn't count last year when Ron was gone. That whole year had felt like a horrible nightmare. It felt decidedly odd to know that she would really be the only Weasley in school, after spending the previous years surrounded by brothers. It was the end of an era Ginny decided, after figuring there had been at least one Weasley at Hogwarts for sixteen years. When she was done next summer, there wouldn't be another one until one of them sent a child off to school. When she was younger, she had dreamt of standing next to Harry on the platform, while they sent off their own child to school, waving proudly as the train disappeared around the bend. But that had been a child's fantasy, and one she had abandoned after she'd gotten home from school after Dumbledore's funeral.

A soft knock on the door drew her from her reverie. She carelessly flicked her wand at the door, and it opened a small crack in invitation. 'All right?' Harry asked softly.

Ginny turned her head and nodded, wondering why Harry's thumb swiped gently over her cheek. Mortified, she felt the cool wetness of tears on her face, and stepped back, palming off the tears on her cheeks. 'Yeah. Just packing.'

'A little early, aren't you?' Harry quipped lightly, trying to lighten the mood. 'Usually don't get to packing until the day before. Or the morning of.'

'Thought I'd try something new this year.' Ginny stiffly stepped aside and grabbed the stack of Muggle novels on her desk, shoved them inside her schoolbag, and set the bag on the floor next to the trunk. Harry's arms slid around her waist and she slumped back against his chest. 'Are you sure you don't want to come back?' she mumbled, looking down at the braided rag rug under their feet.

'I'm sure,' Harry said emphatically.

'It's going to be awfully lonely,' Ginny admitted in a small voice.

Harry's arms tightened around her waist. 'Luna'll be there,' he said cajolingly.

Ginny shrugged unhappily. 'Most of my friends weren't in my year,' she sighed. 'They were Hermione, Neville, Ron, you... I get on all right with Demelza, but she and I aren't taking many classes together anymore.'

'It's not like you'll never see her,' Harry argued. 'You'll see her when you're not in class, and she'll be on the team this year with you, I imagine.'

'Probably,' Ginny agreed. 'And Colin...' Ginny reached up to pinch the bridge of her nose. 'I wonder if Dennis will be back,' she mused when the tickle in her throat abated.

'You think he wouldn't come back?' Harry said in surprise. 'He'd want to finish school, don't you think?'

'You're not. Ron's not. Hermione's not, but since she's still in Australia, I guess we don't really know for sure...' Ginny pointed out. 'Most of your year opted to not come back and take the N.E.W.T. year over.'

'That's a little different. Dennis is only in his fifth year. He needs to go back. Ron, Hermione and me...' Harry shrugged. 'It would just be a bit weird. And for the others, too.' He let his chin rest on Ginny's shoulder. 'What's really bothering you, Gin?'

'I've never really gone up alone.' She shook her head. 'Not that I'm scared of going alone...'

'Of course not,' Harry murmured.

'It's just going to feel... weird,' she finished lamely. 'And you can't help but think about who isn't there that should be...'

Harry stood silently; almost certain Ginny wasn't just talking about students. He didn't quite know what to tell her. He gently maneuvered her so they both sat on her bed, and unconsciously, Ginny moved closer and wound a hand through Harry's as they leaned against each other. The silence that settled over them wasn't bothersome to Harry, nor Ginny. It was almost comforting in its stillness.

'I'm going to miss this,' Ginny whispered into quietude.

Harry's lips brushed over her mouth. 'So am I.'