The First Day

Ginny stormed into the castle, fuming. She stomped up the staircase, brushing past Professor Carter. 'Miss Weasley!' he called. Ginny ignored him. 'MISS WEASLEY!' he bellowed, his voice echoing off the stone walls.

'Must you shout so?' complained a portrait.

Carter rolled his eyes. 'Do ya have to stick your nose into everyone's business all the damn time?' he retorted.

The witch in the portrait pursed her lips. 'It is rather boring to be a painting,' she pointed out. 'What else have I to do?'

Carter ran a hand through his hair. 'I swear, the ghosts aren't this nosy.' He darted after Ginny, who was now two flights above him. 'Miss Weasley, if you don't stop, I'm gonna give ya detention.'

Ginny came to a reluctant halt. 'What?' she ground out sullenly.

'Excuse me?' Carter's brow rose. 'Who are ya talkin' to, young lady?' he said softly, but his tone was a verbal rebuke more severe than mere yelling.

Ginny swallowed and took a deep breath. 'I'm sorry, sir,' she said stiffly.

'Argument?'

'Not precisely.'

'Hmm. Your display of temper wouldn't have anythin' to do with that book you've been lugging around, would it?' Carter leaned against the banister. 'The one about Harry.'

'No. It's not about the book itself.'

'But what's inside it?'

Ginny barked with sardonic laughter. 'Not even that.' She folded her arms over her chest. 'Do you have brothers or sisters, sir?'

'I'm the youngest of four. Two brothers and a sister.'

'They have their own circle and leave you out of it all the time?'

Carter shook his head. 'Not really... They were all a lot older than me. I was sorta a surprise to my parents,' he admitted ruefully.

'Then you won't understand.' Ginny shifted her bag on her shoulder. 'May I go now, sir?'

Carter cleared his throat. 'Um, Miss, Weasley... Take the night off. Unless you've got anything important due tomorrow?'

'No, but I've got N.E.W.T.s coming up,' Ginny protested.

'And I've seen ya work. You can afford to take one evening off and veg in that common room of yours. You're gonna burn out, Miss Weasley.'

'I guess...'

'Good night, Miss Weasley.' Carter pushed himself off the banister and clattered down the stairs.

Ginny sighed and trudged up to the Gryffindor tower, dodging the other students. She went to her dormitory and collected a clean nightdress, her dressing gown, and her slippers from her cupboard. Instead of using the seventh year girls' bathroom for a shower, she slipped down to the prefects' bathroom, her status as Quidditch captain, allowing her the right to use it. She leaned close to the statue of Boris the Bewildered and whispered, 'Scrubbing bubbles.' The door swung open. She exhaled slowly, relieved the room was vacant. The door would lock if someone was bathing in the tub, which was what Ginny intended to do.

She dropped her things next to the oversized bath and turned on the taps containing her favorite bubble bath, and undressed as the bath filled. When the taps shut off, Ginny lowered herself into the bath, hissing slightly between her teeth as her skin came in contact with the hot water. Going to look like a boiled lobster when I'm out, she chuckled to herself, then leaned her head against the edge of the enormous marble tub, letting the rest of her body float weightlessly. She let the warmth soothe the aches in her muscles from the relentless Quidditch training. Maybe everybody's right, and I am pushing myself too hard...

Ginny's eyes drifted shut and she sank beneath the surface, swishing her hair around, then rising with a surge of foam-flecked water. She understood what Hermione meant about being with someone for all the wrong reasons, merely because it was comforting to have the touch of another human being. Isn't that what she'd done with Michael and Dean? She turned to Michael, mostly to take her mind off Harry. And Dean... Dean was the one about whom she felt the most guilty. As much as she tried to pretend it hadn't bothered her too much, the Battle of the Department of Mysteries had shaken her deeply. Hermione - the older sister she never had - had nearly died; she could still see the pinkish scars wending their way up Ron's arms from the brains; Neville had bled so much over his shirt from the broken nose, he'd had to throw it away; her own ankle had been broken savagely by a Death Eater, and even though Madam Pomfrey had fixed it in no time at all, occasionally it ached during cold, wet weather. Dean hadn't been there, and he wisely kept his questions to himself. He was kind and attentive and had been a relatively normal presence in her life. But the qualities that Ginny appreciated in Dean as a friend had been grating in boyfriend. She honestly believed she hadn't led him on, but knew that's what people said behind her back, after she'd thrown herself into Harry's arms after they won the Quidditch Cup.

In the end, Ginny knew without a doubt, even the remote - and not to mention unlikely - possibility of anything happening between Harry and Hermione didn't even register. When pressed to admit what she really wanted from the three of them was to recognize she had been through as much as they had, and without the tightly-knit support system they had amongst themselves. Possessed by Voldemort, an event of which she had to remind Harry that it had even happened. Fighting at the Ministry alongside the three of them, doing more than merely holding her own. Fighting at both battles at Hogwarts. And even though she hadn't been on the run with them last year, she'd had her own share of troubles - made to let Slytherins torture her in detentions, living in daily terror something horrible was going to happen to her because she was seen as a blood-traitor, going into hiding when she went home for the Easter holiday. Ginny had been the one to come up with the idea of stealing Gryffindor's sword from the Headmaster's office, arranging clandestine meetings with Neville and Luna to organize the affair. So what if it wasn't as life-threatening as searching for bits of Voldemort's soul? It was that impression that irked Ginny more than anything else. That her experiences meant nothing, because they weren't in the same stratosphere as theirs. If anything, she hated feeling as if she had to jump up and down; waving her hands over her head to get the three of them to realize what she'd done was just as valid as their actions.

At length, she climbed from the depths of the bath, quivering bonelessly from the heat of the water. She grabbed one of the fluffy towels and wrapped it around her dripping hair, then picked up another one, carelessly swiping it over her skin, then pulling the nightdress over her head, slipping the dressing gown over her arms, and belting it loosely. She wriggled her feet into the winsome bunny slippers, and rubbed her hair dry. Ginny tossed the wet towels into a basket in the corner and made her way back to her dormitory.

Hermione waited on the foot of her bed. 'Ginny... honestly, nothing ever happened -'

Ginny whipped around, her hair flying around her head. 'Do you really think that's why I'm angry?' she scoffed.

'Well, I...' Hermoine's voice died in the face of Ginny's furious expression. 'Isn't it?' she ventured uncertainly.

Ginny's harsh laugh sounded grating to her own ears. 'No,' she breathed incredulously. 'Bloody hell, Hermione, the three of you don't even see it, do you?'

'See what?'

'And I thought Ron was thick,' Ginny huffed scathingly. 'I don't care that you and Harry were alone together. I really don't. I get what it means to crave just a touch from another person. And like you said nothing happened. And if it had, that would have been something Harry would have told me.' She shook her head in disbelief. 'Did you know people refer to you by one long name? It's HarryRonandHermione,' she sighed, spitting out the string of names as one word. 'Or they call you the Golden Trio... Like you're not individual people.'

'Ginny, we worked as a team...' Hermione said softly.

'That's not the point,' Ginny argued. 'Do you have any idea what Pavarti and Lavender said about the three of you? What they've been saying since your fourth year?'

'Not particularly,' Hermione sniffed.

'That the three of you...' Ginny picked at the knot in the sash of her dressing gown. 'That you share each other,' she coughed.

'Share...?'

'In bed,' Ginny supplied succinctly, cheeks flaming. 'They're not the only ones that talk. Do you remember that Marietta bint? The one that finked out the D.A. to Umbridge? That is all she talked about her last year here. Especially after that disastrous date Harry had with Cho. She said the reason why Harry threw Cho over was because he was involved with you. Most people tend to think they're being ridiculous, of course... But don't you see? The three of you are so... You have such a tight circle that it's impossible for anyone to break into it.' She scrubbed her hands over her face. 'You three do everything first with each other... Every life-altering event, it's the three of you first, then everybody else. Rescuing Buckbeak, and then Sirius... Helping Harry prepare for the Triwizard... Harry visits his parents' graves for the first time with you. Sees his parents' house for the first time with you... ' Ginny turned to her bed, and swept the hangings back, then turned back the bedding. 'I don't want to sound like a whinging child or a jealous girlfriend, but...' She lowered her head, gazing at a loose thread on her pillowcase. 'When is it my turn to do something with him before you or Ron?' she asked so softly it was nearly soundless. Ginny climbed into her bed, and pulled the bedding over her shoulders, flicking her wand at the hangings. They firmly closed and she cast an Imperturbable charm at them. Enough talking... she thought. The frankly gobsmacked expression on Hermione's face told Ginny everything she needed to know. None of them are going to understand. She sighed and buried her face into the pillow, remarkably dry-eyed. Not an issue now... But it could be... Later...

*****

Harry rubbed his eyes tiredly. 'Do you want to take a break?' Avery asked.

'I'm all right,' Harry said with a self-effacing moue.

'You may not need one, but I do,' Avery declared. He jabbed his wand at the table and a glass fell to the surface with a dull clunk. 'Aguamenti,' he murmured, then picked up the glass when it was full. 'How much did you see?' he asked guardedly.

'Not much,' Harry allowed. 'Enough to know why you haven't been sacked,' he added pointedly. He had to admit Avery was something of a master at manipulating people, able to suss out which buttons to push. He was so skilled at it, most people didn't realize he was doing it to someone else. And he knew who he could antagonize and with whom he had to adopt an angelic mien. What made it all more incredible was that Avery had begun doing this as a small child in primary school. It bordered on brilliant. 'What house were you in at school?'

'Ravenclaw.'

'Really?' Harry tilted the chair back, contemplating the other man. 'Not Slytherin...'

Avery's jaw jumped. 'No,' he said shortly. 'Five generations of my family have been to Hogwarts, and not a single Slytherin in the lot,' he said, letting a hint of pride creep into his voice.

Harry blinked a few times. 'Interesting,' he said neutrally.

Avery frowned, but declined to comment. He sipped his water, staring at Harry. Unable to contain himself, he asked, 'What's it like?'

'What?'

Avery gestured at his temple. 'To see...'

Harry rubbed a spot on his wand handle. 'Intrusive,' he said quietly. 'Nauseating. And as much as people try sometimes, if there are really strong emotional ties to the memory, it's awfully hard for the person to block or suppress it.'

'Can someone block it?'

'Yeah...' A thought began to blossom in Harry's mind. 'You don't know...?'

Avery shook his head. 'No...'

'Occlumency,' Harry supplied. 'Have to empty your mind, create a mental wall, be as impassive as you can... Lots harder than it sounds.'

'Aren't you worried something'll slip while they're making you practice this that could undermine your position?'

'Why are you so worried?' Harry snorted. 'Besides, it's not like I have a position to undermine. I'm barely a step above a trainee. The only difference is I get to go out on field assignments and my badge says, "Auror" and not "Auror Trainee".'

'What if they want to make you Head one day?'

'I'm not going to be Head,' Harry sighed. 'Not sure I'd want it, anyway. And it's not like they'll hand it to me because I'm Harry-Bloody-Potter and sweep anything that might have leaked out in some long-ago practice session with Legilimency under the rug, eh?' He set his chair back on its four legs. 'Come on. Got thirty more minutes of this... Might as well get it over with, yeah?'

'Why don't they teach this to the rest of us?' Avery asked, with a hint of his customary hostility.

Harry carefully considered his reply. Snape had seemed to be able to exploit every horrible childhood memory he ever had, making him seem more vulnerable than usual. 'It's too easy to abuse it,' he said simply. He resolutely raised his wand. 'Legilimens...'

*****

Harry paced in front of Kingsley's office door, debating with himself. Go inside, or leave a note?

Percy emerged, hand at the knot of his tie, loosening it slightly as he ended his day. He watched Harry stalk to and fro, lips moving in a furious, soundless argument, hands gesticulating wildly. 'Harry?'

Harry jumped, his wand at Percy's throat before he could stop himself. 'Don't do that!' he hissed.

Percy's eyes widened behind the lenses of his glasses, and he glanced at the wand, trembling near his jugular vein, the tip glowing with arrested spells. 'Didn't mean to sneak up on you,' he said calmly.

Harry inhaled shakily and forced himself to lower the wand. 'Sorry...' he gulped. 'Still think I have to look over my shoulder all the time sometimes,' he confessed.

'Understandable.' Percy unbuttoned the collar of his shirt, eyeing Harry. 'Could I offer a bit of advice?' he asked. 'Take it or not, your choice... But I offer this standing on the outside of the situation.'

'Situation? I wasn't aware there was one.' Harry crossed his arms defensively over his chest.

'I know the Minister would like you to come to the memorial service next week,' Percy said tonelessly. 'At least make an appearance.'

Harry carefully replaced his wand in the holster under his sleeve. 'Why?' He held up a hand, halting whatever Percy was about to say next. 'And don't tell me it's because everyone expects it. I've done what everybody else wants me to do since I was a baby. I made an appearance at the memorial after the battle last year, because it was expected,' he said coldly. His eyes closed tiredly and he shook his head. 'Why can't anyone understand I never wanted to be the public face of the war?'

Percy shifted his briefcase to his other hand. 'Have you ever thought if you did do something publicly from time to time, they wouldn't expect it of you all the time?' He pushed the button for the lift. 'Just think about it.'

Harry's lips thinned and he nodded jerkily. 'Is Kingsley still in?'

'In the Atrium overseeing the final touches of the fountain.'

'Thanks...' Harry joined Percy in the lift, keeping his eyes on the toes of his shoes.

'Maturity's overrated at times,' Percy commented idly. 'One must behave as if they do not wish to throw mashed potatoes at people, even when they richly deserve it. And you find yourself doing things you'd rather not do in the first place. You do things because you have to. It's finding when not to do those things that are difficult...' He glanced at Harry. 'You should be grateful you do, at least, have a choice. I'd prefer to go home and spend the day with Mum and Dad, or sit with George, and skip the whole rigmarole.' The doors of the lift parted and Percy strode off without a backward look, acting as if he hadn't uttered a word.

Harry realized his mouth was hanging open, and closed it with an audible snap. He trudged to Kingsley, conferring with a serious-looking witch, their wands sketching patterns in the air, leaving glowing lines in their wake that outlined the dimensions of the fountain. He cleared his throat softly to gain their attention. 'Put my name on it,' he said firmly. 'Just make it small and inconspicuous. It shouldn't be the focus of the fountain.' And I shouldn't be the focus of the dedication,' he added silently.

Kingsley nodded, recognizing how much Harry had conceded in requesting to be the acknowledged donor of the fountain. He gestured with his wand, and a small rectangle unfurled, coming to a rest on the side, near the floor. 'How's that?'

'It's fine.' Harry turned on his heel and darted back into the waiting lift. When he arrived on Level Two, he ran into Peter.

'I was looking for you,' Peter told Harry, holding out a small piece of parchment. 'If you didn't have anywhere else to go, or well...' He coughed uncomfortably. 'My wife and I are having a few friends over for a bit of a private remembrance next Sunday. That's our address.' He pressed the parchment into Harry's damp palm. 'No worries if you don't come or want to be alone. But you shouldn't be alone. I can promise no one will expect you to make a speech in our back garden. You don't even have to speak to anyone if you don't want to.' Peter paused delicately. 'And if you want to drink yourself into oblivion with us, you can sleep it off in our spare bedroom.'

'I...' Harry gazed at the neatly-lettered address in bewilderment. 'Thanks...' He ducked into his cubicle. He set the scrap of parchment in the center of the desk and studied it. It was a gift, freely offered with no demands on him at all. An unconditional momentary respite. Harry started to crumple the small square in his hand, but stopped, and shoved it into his pocket. Sunday was still more than a week away.

*****

George opened the bureau drawer, fully expecting the see the paper printed with delicate flowers lining the bottom of the drawer. Instead, he saw a stack of his boxers, neatly folded next to rows of socks, rolled into tidy bundles. 'Katie? How long have I been here?'

Katie leaned against the doorframe, her toothbrush poking from the corner of her mouth. 'Almost a month. Why?'

'When did I get two weeks' worth of pants in here?'

'Your mum sent them over the other day.' Katie shrugged and returned to the bathroom.

George scooped a pair of boxers from the top of a stack and followed her. 'Why would she do that?' Katie leaned forward to spit into the sink and gave George a quizzical glance. 'What?'

'If you want to go back to Devon, that's fine,' Katie said, rinsing the toothpaste from the sink. 'But it seemed like you wanted to stay indefinitely.' She shut off the tap. 'I didn't say anything to your mum. She just showed up with the rest of your things...'

'I guess we never talked about it...' George said hesitantly.

'George, would you like to stay here with me?' Katie asked gently. 'We don't have to stay in this flat if it doesn't suit -'

'But I like this flat!' George protested. 'It's cozy and warm, and it's... it's fine for the two of us...'

'We don't have to make any decisions right away,' Katie said quickly. 'Take your time... I want you to stay here because you want to be here. Not because you're using it to stall about dealing with... things,' she added firmly.

George nodded, mouth pressed in a tight line. 'Yeah... Okay...' He stood up and reached for the taps in the bath, stripping off his pajamas.

'I'm not throwing you out,' Katie reminded him. 'If you want to stay... it's your choice. If you want to leave, it's also your choice.' Dizziness washed over her and she sat down abruptly on the floor.

George clambered out of the tub, painfully slamming his knee into the rim. 'Katie! Katie, are you all right?' He crouched in front of her, cupping her face in his hands.

'I'm fine... Just got dizzy...' Katie struggled to her feet, and bent over the sink, splashing cold water over her face.

'I don't think you ought to go to work today,' George stated. 'You still look rather peaky to me.'

'Have to,' Katie said shortly. 'Layout doesn't happen by itself.'

George sighed and sat back on his heels. 'Just... Just don't stay too late, all right?'

'I won't.' She glanced at her watch. 'George... You're going to be late...'

George stood on the bathmat, chewing the inside of his cheek. 'I own the place,' he said dismissively. 'I can be late if I want.'

Katie inhaled deeply. 'George, sweetheart, I love you, but if you don't go to work today - on time - I'm going to hex you,' she told him, smiling with near unbearable sweetness. 'I'm quite all right. I just need to eat something...' She patted him on the cheek and left him to his shower.

Getting George out of the flat proved to be more difficult than Katie imagined. She wasn't the type that enjoyed concerned hovering when she was ill. She despised it and preferred to be left alone. George constantly inquired if she needed anything. The only thing she wanted was for him to leave and give her a few moments of peace and quiet. She felt unsettled and out of sorts, peevish one moment, appallingly tearful the next, then sickeningly cheerful. Starting her day by snapping at co-workers was not high on her list of things to do.

When he finally left, Katie leaned against the door in relief, reveling in the silence that surrounded her. She moved quietly around the flat, putting books and magazines away, flicking her wand idly over surfaces, siphoning away the accumulated dust, while she visualized how her article should look. She stopped occasionally, to twist from side to side, attempting to relieve the dull, persistent ache in her back. Been in bed too long, she mused. A sudden stab of pain made Katie gasp, and her shoulders hunched against the cramp rippling through her. What the...? It was quickly followed by another cramp. Hospital...

Katie knew she wasn't able to Apparate or Floo on her own. She stumbled through the door to Mr. Grevas', and with one hand pressed to her stomach, she knocked with her free hand. 'Katie,' he exclaimed with concern.

'I need some help... St. Mungo's,' she wheezed.

'I'll just go and fetch George...'

'No!' Katie shouted, the word rolling down the staircase. Managing to throttle her voice down to something less strident, she gripped Mr. Grevas' sleeve with a rigid hand. 'I just need help getting to St. Mungo's. And I don't want to bother George,' she pleaded.

'All right... shhhhh.' Mr. Grevas patted Katie's shoulder in an attempt to soothe her. He gripped her elbow firmly in one hand, and turned.

*****

The Healer drew the edge of the hospital's dark green sheet over Katie. 'You didn't know?'

Katie began to laugh, a hysterical tone shredding the edges of it. 'Oh, for Merlin's sake,' she choked. She covered her face with both hands. 'Did you ever hear about the cobbler's children that go without shoes?' she groaned. 'That's me... All the lectures and information... If I ever tell my mother, she'll go spare...'

The Healer pushed her dark hair over her shoulder. 'What were you using?'

'Muggle pills,' Katie sighed.

'Interesting...' The Healer scribbled something in Katie's chart. 'If I recall what my aunt says, you must take them each day at the same time.'

'I do,' Katie insisted. 'Oh... Oh, no...' She rubbed the bridge of her nose. 'I missed a couple of days about three weeks ago... I got wrapped up in something else, and just... forgot.'

'I am sorry...'

Katie dragged a hand down her face. 'How am I supposed to feel badly about something I didn't know existed?'

'I don't know.' The Healer pulled a chair next to the narrow bed. 'Are you still involved with the, erm... gentleman?'

'Yeah...'

'You should tell him. Whether you feel any sort of grief or not, that's not for me to say.' She looked down at Katie's chart. 'You can go home, if you want, or stay overnight here.'

'I want to go home,' Katie said softly.

'Very well. I want you to come back in a few days just to check things. But if you feel feverish, I want you back here straightaway. The bleeding will stop in a couple of days, but if it's heavier, you have to come back. And your cycle will go back to normal in six weeks or so.' The Healer signed the bottom of Katie's chart. 'Do you want us to call someone for you?'

Katie shook her head. 'No. Thank you.'

'Do you need assistance getting dressed?'

'I can manage.' Katie twisted her fingers in the nubby blanket.

The Healer slid off the stool. 'If you do find you need help, just press your fingers to the plate in the bedside table. Someone will come.'

'Thank you,' Katie said dully. She slowly pulled her clothes on, noting absently they'd been cleaned during her examination, the dragged herself to the waiting area. Mr. Grevas stood, tossing the elderly copy of Witch Weekly aside. 'I don't want to talk about it,' she told him.

He laid his hand lightly against her cheek. 'That's fine, then...' He then twined her arm through his, then turned deliberately, Apparating before Katie could start to cry.

After tucking Katie on the sofa, with a tray of tea and toast on the coffee table, Mr. Grevas dragged one of the chairs from the table next to the sofa. 'Now then,' he began, picking up the gently steaming teapot. 'Are you going to tell me why you didn't want George involved?'

'No.'

'Katie, far be it from me to pry in your personal business, but don't you think he has a right to know what's happened?' He handed Katie a cup of tea.

Katie hunched her shoulders and gave the tea a look of disgust. 'I do,' she replied levelly. 'Just not now.' I'm not piling one more thing on him... He's bound to crack under the pressure...

'But you will?' Mr. Grevas persisted.

'Yes.' Katie sipped the tea, feeling some of the coiled tension in her shoulders lessen as its palliative warmth slid down her throat, taking comfort in the ritual of watching someone prepare something as mundane as a cup of tea. Eventually.

The door opened and George bounded into the room. 'You stayed home.'

Katie nodded, burying her nose into her cup. 'Yeah...'

George crossed the room and bent over Katie, smoothing the hair from her face. 'You still look peaky,' he stated, lightly kissing her forehead.

Katie captured his hand, clutching it for a moment. 'I'll be all right.'

*****

The Potions classroom was open after dinner for N.E.W.T. and O.W.L. students who wanted some extra practice. Ginny opened her battered textbook and began to gather the ingredients for an Elixir to Induce Euphoria. She set up her cauldron at a table in the back corner of the room, and squinted at the instructions. Add a sprig of peppermint was scrawled in Harry's handwriting at the bottom of the ingredient list. She frowned so intently at the page, that she didn't hear Hermione set her cauldron up next to hers. 'Ginny,' she said hesitantly. 'It's not that we - or Harry in particular - don't want to tell you things... They're really difficult to speak of to anybody, not just you.'

'I get that,' Ginny replied, keeping her eyes on her knife, as it carefully shredded the peppermint. 'You think I don't have things I've not talked about?' she snorted.

'Of course not,' Hermione said briskly.

'I'm sorry I lost my temper,' Ginny said, still not looking at Hermione. 'I know the three of you have lived in each other's back pockets for years. Habit, I suppose. I don't begrudge you that or anything you've done together. And it's not that there are things you lot haven't told me. It's that I had to find out about it from Rita Skeeter of all people,' she said wearily. She finally met Hermione's guileless gaze. 'I just wonder when he's going to feel safe confiding in me, like he does with you two.' She shrugged and returned to her potion, methodically shredding stinging nettle leaves. 'I know it's not a contest about to see who Harry loves best.'

Hermione openly stared at Ginny. 'You don't see it, either, do you?' she said with a sympathetic smile.

'See what?'

Hermione began to chuckle softly. It grew to outright guffaws that she made no attempt to stifle. 'You're the one he took furniture shopping. If you didn't like the color of the sofa, or chairs with the kitchen table, he'd have chucked it immediately. He put things where you suggested. He set that flat up with you in mind.' Hermione wiped tears from the corners of her eyes. 'Ron and I will always be Harry's friends, but you're the one with whom he wants to build a life.' She turned Ginny's textbook toward her and flicked her wand several times, Summoning the ingredients for the Elixir to Induce Euphoria. 'We're okay...?'

Ginny slowly exhaled and leaned against Hermione. 'Yeah...'

*****

A/N: In Victorian times, there were specific rituals one was required to do when mourning a loved one. Women usually wore black for a full year, and couldn't leave their homes without wearing a heavy, black veil. After a year, they could lift the veil. And since it's been a year in the timeline of the story... Time to set the veil aside...