Love, and Other Things That Hurt

Chapter Twelve

On the early Tuesday morning she was due to return to Hogwarts, Ginny woke at the crack of dawn, restless and agitated, and proceeded to pack and repack her trunk several times, folding each piece of clothing carefully and separately and stacking each pile neatly side by side. As she crept quietly into the hall bathroom to comb her hair and wash her face, she noticed that the color that had begun flooding back to her face in her time back at home was fading again. She felt that familiar pull in the pit of her stomach, the twinge of anxiety and trepidation that overwhelmed all of the hard determination she had been forcing to the forefront since her decision to return to school.

Ginny dressed and sat in the sitting room with her trunk at her feet and a cup of tea, her eye on the clock, just waiting for her parents to wake so that she could say goodbye. The minutes ticked by, one by one, and Ginny made fidgeted restlessly in an attempt to deflect the rush of anxiety the silence welcomed into her already overwrought brain. It was with a great wash of relief that she finally heard footsteps coming down the stairs, and saw Molly emerging, wrapped in a dressing gown with her greying auburn curls pulled back in a kerchief.

"Oh, Ginny, dear," Molly said, appearing to be slightly startled as she turned into the sitting room to find Ginny there. "You're up early."

"I was just waiting for you to get up before I called the taxi," Ginny said, nodding towards the corner in which a heavily-Spellotaped plastic Muggle phone was set up, enchanted to function as with electricity, one of Arthur's most prized successes. "I have to be at King's Cross before nine to that I can arrive at Hogwarts before dinner. I just wanted to say goodbye."

"Don't be silly, dear," Molly said, waving a hand. "I'll take you. It's really no trouble."

"It's alright, Mum," Ginny said gently, standing and placing her teacup on the coffee table. "You've done so much for me already. I know it was a little bit . . . inconvenient for you to have to adjust to me coming home unexpectedly, but -"

"Ginny," Molly admonished, the laugh lines in the corners of her eyes arching as she frowned. "I can't understand why you're acting as though you're a guest here. You are my only daughter, and not only is this your home, where you will always belong, no matter what time of the year, you are never an inconvenience to us." Molly surveyed Ginny with searching eyes. "Something has changed about you," she said musingly, and Ginny felt an involuntary lurch in her stomach. "I can't quite pinpoint it. You seem . . . older. More solemn. Ginny, you would tell me the truth, wouldn't you? If something was wrong? You can always talk to me."

Ginny crossed the room and folded her arms around her mother who was already several inches shorter than she was. In an attempt not to have to answer, Ginny leaned her face against Molly's shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of comfort that she would always be able to recognize.

"I'm sorry, Mum" Ginny said, pressing her cheek against the sleeve of Molly's flowered dressing gown. "It's just - I'm not quite sure about things."

"You're growing up," Molly said, nodding as she drew back from Ginny, dabbing her eyes with the hem of her gown. "Oh, this is such a difficult and wonderful time for you, dear. One more year of school and then you're life is just beginning."

Ginny's hand fell to her taut abdomen and, for the smallest moment, her lips seemed poised to spill the words that would catalyze the entire story, and she opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

A long moment passed in silence and Ginny hesitated. There was a quiet drip drip drip of water coming from the faucet in the kitchen adjoining, and the longer Ginny looked at her mother, the whole story and the reality that had just hit her ready on the tip of her tongue, the more the truth appeared to her - she couldn't do it. She couldn't shatter Molly's comfortable illusion that after the reality became too much to ignore, Ginny's life was not going anywhere. These were not the problems of a sixteen year old girl, with her whole life ahead of her; these were the mistakes that ruined a life.

Don't think that way, a small voice in Ginny's head implored urgently, but she ignored it, resolutely pushing back her shoulders slightly and slowly exhaling the breath she had been holding.

"I know it is, Mum," she said, smiling as best she could. "Look, thanks. I know it's your job to take care of me, but I'm grateful anyway."

Molly reached forward and clutched Ginny to her once more, releasing her quickly. "It's no trouble, dear," she said, smiling briefly before hurrying into the kitchen. "Now, how about a bit of breakfast before your journey?"

Ginny's stomach churned at the thought of the usual eggs and bacon she had been enjoying periodically throughout the week. For the past twenty four hours, she hadn't been able to keep much down. "Just some toast, please," she said, sinking down in the armchair again.

By the time Ginny had called the taxi and finished her tea and breakfast with minimal difficulty, Arthur had emerged from upstairs, his thinning hair tousled and also still in his dressing gown.

"Morning, ladies," he said, his voice slightly hoarse as he entered the kitchen. "I'm feeling a little under the weather today. Sent an owl to Perkins, I expect he should be able to get on without me."

Molly fussed over him, getting him a large cup of tea and ladling treacle onto his oatmeal while he chatted with Ginny about her return to Hogwarts. Like Molly, he offered to take her, but she gently declined.

"No offense, Dad, but you sound awful," she said, smiling as she rose to help Molly with the dishes.

Arthur protested a little, but at a look from Molly, he changed the subject. Ginny kept one eye on the window until, finally, a small red chequered car pulled up into the drive, the driver eyeing the tall crooked Burrow out his side window with some bemusement.

Ginny pulled on her coat and dragged her trunk to the door, Molly and Arthur following. They each took a turn hugging her tightly, and as Ginny drew back, she was surprised to see that Molly wasn't tearing up again.

"You're a good girl, Ginny," Molly said gently, her hand resting on her back. "And we love you very much. Have a good rest of term, won't you?"

"We'll see you this summer," Arthur added, squeezing her arm, his eyes searching her face. "You're feeling alright again?"

Ginny nodded, smiling. "Take care, Dad," she said to him, glancing over at her mother too as she grabbed the handle of her trunk. They both watched in silence as she emerged into the mild summer morning Ginny waved once more when she reached the end of the drive, feeling relief as she turned away and greeted the driver, who took the trunk from her to stow it in the back. She appreciated the time away from all the drama of Hogwarts, but she wasn't sure she could stand Molly's piercing look across the breakfast table anymore. Ginny felt a stab of remorse as she slid into the backseat of the taxi, taking one more look through the dirt-streaked windows at the shabby crooked building that was her home before the driver climbed in, pulled out of the drive and down the narrow dirt path to Ottery St. Catchpole and the freeway that led to London beyond.