Where'd You Go?

Chapter Two. Excuses

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgement that something else is more important than fear."

--Ambrose Redmoon

Ginny awoke the next morning with a pounding headache. After having cried herself to sleep, she also found her hair matted to her cheeks from tears and sweat. There was some sort of odd crust around her nose, and her eyes felt puffy and itchy. Her limbs were twisted in an uncomfortable position from where she had thrown herself last night and never moved. And upon slowly sitting up, she painfully discovered a crick in her neck. If I had to wake up like this, I should have at least indulged in a bottle of Firewhisky last night. Same results, but I might have been spared remembering why I drank myself into a stupor, Ginny thought wryly.

Ginny reluctantly dragged herself out of bed. Scowling, she trudged to the bathroom in silence, hoping to avoid any confrontations before she was ready for them - not that she ever would be. But since she eventually would have to face the powerhouse that was her mother, she didn't want to do it looking as if a Blast-Ended Screwt had given her a run for her money. The mirror was tsking at her, which she pointedly ignored.

As she quietly closed the bathroom door, she reflected on how things felt different already. Usually, Hermione was already up and in the bathroom, no matter how early Ginny rose. Well, it was never actually very early in the first place, but Ginny could still note the difference.

She also noticed that all of their toothbrushes were missing. A small thing, really, but she felt the loss anyway. There were three empty spots in the holder just as there were now three empty spots in her life.

After taking a shower and putting on some fresh clothes, Ginny felt a little better. At least physically. Mentally, she was reeling. Not only were they gone, but she would now have to be the one to explain it. As she went downstairs to the smell of bacon, her stomach was doing cartwheels. Just the sight of her mother at the stove invoked more than a little apprehension into her. She started to just turn around and head back upstairs when she met her father on the stairs.

"Good morning, Ginny," he said with a smile. "Where are you off to? Usually food, if nothing else, is the only thing that keeps you and Ron in the kitchen."

"Er...I was just going upstairs to...get a hair tie. Yes, to get a hair tie. It was falling in my face," she finished lamely, feeling completely idiotic. Rarely did she ever get this tongue tied and she felt her father must have seen through her.

However her father accepted that and said, "Okay. But hurry back." And he slipped into the kitchen and started to set the table.

"Ginny, dear? Is that you?"

"Yes Mum!"

"Are you coming down?"

"She's going to get a hair tie. I swear, you girls and your silly ornaments," her father said, rolling his eyes and shaking his head.

Molly swung around with the spatula still in one hand and another on her hip. "If I remember correctly, you were always buying me 'silly ornaments' when we first started dating. You didn't seem to mind them so much then."

"Um..." her father murmured.

Ginny walked into the kitchen with a small smile on her lips. She couldn't help but admire her mum's unquestioned authority and power. Her mother could make her grown sons and husband cower before her, having the unique ability to render a person senseless with one glance. Despite her own slight fear of her mother, she recognised that she could do far worse than having Molly Weasley as a mother and role model.

'"Don't say another word," she warned to her husband. "Or you'll end up in a place you really do not want to be."

"Yes, love," he said quietly, returning to the task of setting the table.

"Morning, Mum," Ginny said, faking her usual morning brightness that she in no way felt today. However, she made the decision to pretend to blissful ignorance as long as possible. It's probably better this way anyway, she thought. It's hardly my fault that they left, so why have all the blame directed at me when there was nothing I could do to stop them from leaving?

Without any kind of warning, a sudden bubble of anger and jealousy exploded inside of her. Why was she the one left behind to pick up all the pieces? She knew it wasn't possible for her to have gone with them - hell, it wasn't even at all realistic. As much as she liked to think she was an independent person, she wasn't sure how she would survive it out there on her own. But oh, how she wanted to go so badly. The thrill of adventure was denied to her, she was left behind, and it stung.

However, she was left behind, and it was her job to pick up the pieces. And quite frankly, she just didn't want to do it. The wrath of her mother would be fierce, the disappointment of her father profound. Ginny was afraid. She didn't want to believe herself a coward, but she knew that no amount of logic could change the fact that she, indeed, was one.

"Oh, good morning, Ginny. Wake your brother up, will you? I want to take just him shopping today. I can't remember the last time we've spent time together. Besides, he'll be glad for some new robes, right, Arthur?"

He looked at her eagerly, clearly happy that her previous anger at him had passed. "For sure. That boy has outgrown his robes again."

Her mother was tipping scrambled eggs onto a platter, and her father was filling cups with orange, both talking about their youngest son. The fact was reaffirmed to Ginny about how the news would break her parent's hearts. Their boy was off on a dangerous adventure, with nothing but his two best friends and courage. And for them, no contact, no reassurance. Just the unending pain and fear of never knowing if they would see him again. Whatever Ginny was feeling, it would impact them one hundred times more. And at least Ginny had the benefit of a goodbye. They would have nothing but their last, unresolved memories.

Ginny had before entertained the idea of playing dumb. It would have been an easy out for her. But she knew that there was no way she could go through the motions of pretending to find empty beds and absent notes that didn't exist. She would inform them of the truth. It was the least she owed them.

What it all boiled down to was that Ginny loved her parents and just didn't like to see them hurt. This would definitely hurt them deeply. The times they all lived in were uncertain enough as it were; she almost felt that it was unfair for Harry, Ron and Hermione to add to it. It wasn't that she didn't understand why they had to go, or why they had to leave the way they did. She just didn't know how they rest of them was supposed to deal with their absence, and with nothing to go on at that. But what right did she have to complain, to be selfish? (Ginny's jealousy is weaved in a few times, but most blatanly right here. Too blatant? Or off the wall?)

Ginny took a deep breath and said, "I have something I need to tell you."

At her declaration, her parents looked up at her with apprehension. Those words usually never preceded good news.

"Yes?" her father asked hesitantly, and for once, Mrs. Weasley stopped all movement in the kitchen. They knew after raising seven children that if one of them said they needed to talk, it was best to just listen. Whatever they're expecting, it probably doesn't even touch what I'm going to tell them.

But before she could even begin to form her words, there were two loud cracks, one right after the other, that startled them all. Ginny was dismayed to see the smiling faces of the twins in front of them. If there was ever a time (and in truth, there were many times) when the twins' humour was not needed, this was it. Everybody felt the tension in the air - everybody except for Fred and George, of course.

"Good day, lovely family!" Fred exclaimed.

"Look Fred, breakfast! They must've known we were coming." And with that, they both sat down in the nearest chairs and helped themselves to the food, completely oblivious to the blank stares of their family.

"It's okay. It's not like any of us had started already, you know. Go ahead and help yourselves," Ginny said acidly.

"Cheerful as ever, dear sister," said George, toast crumbs littering his face. "You should win an award, or something."

"Really, you two!" Mrs. Weasley fussed and swiped at the mess they were making.

"Uh, boys? This might not be the best time to visit right now. Ginny was just about to have a discussion with us," said Mr. Weasley, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"You're finally going to tell them about the sex change procedure then? Good for you, Gin!" Fred said and smiled innocently at her.

"I've always said--" George started.

"Just go already!"

"Fine then!" they both said together in a mock huff and made a show of getting from their chairs in indignation. "We can see where we're not wanted," George added. "I always knew we were just next-door neighbours."

George Apparated first while Fred stayed to say, "I heard through the grapevine that McGonagall has something important to tell the Order. That is, if you're not too busy throwing family out the house to hear it." And then he too Apparated away. (I'm afraid I can't find any way to really incorporate the twins more into this. Or at least no plausible way.)

Ginny sighed and sat down at the table, motioning for her parents to follow suit. If anything, Fred and George's visit had only served to make her feel worse.

"Now, what was it you wanted to say?" her father asked with a sigh and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

Ginny took a steadying breath and prepared herself for the storm that was about to come.

"Harry, Ron and Hermione...left last night." Just saying the words made her realise again how much she missed them all. Especially Harry.

"WHAT!" Her parents exploded at the same time.

"They're gone," she said lamely.

"What do you mean they're gone?" her mother asked sharply.

"Just what I said; they're gone. They said there was something they needed to do."

"Where did they go? How can we find them?" her father asked. He looked worried.

"I don't know," Ginny said and shrugged one shoulder helplessly. "They wouldn't tell me where they went, or why. They didn't say when they would be back. They told me almost nothing."

"I don't believe this," her mum almost shrieked. She jumped up from the table and ran up the stairs, probably to check the bedrooms. As if it couldn't be true unless she saw it for herself. Ginny could hear loud footsteps and almost wanted to cry at the look on her mother's face. Her father just sat there with his head in his hands. It was just as she expected.

"We need to alert the Order," her mother said suddenly as she came thundering back down the stairs. Arthur said and did nothing as Molly (I always debate on what to call them because this is supposed to be from Ginny's point of view, but I don't want it to get repetitive. What do you think?)strode towards the fireplace in the next room. "Someone needs to start looking for them."

"Mum, no!" Ginny said and jumped up from the table as well. She ran to catch up with her mother. "I didn't tell you so they could be found. I told you because you had to know." Whatever she might have been feeling for the trio aside, she still had to do her part to protect them. They probably were, after all, out saving the world or something. It was the least she could do to help.

"Well, you shouldn't have let them go in the first place! If you had told us last night, we wouldn't have to go through this right now. What could you have been thinking, Ginny (I wanted her to call Ginny "Ginevra Weasley" here but wasn't sure how odd it would sound.)!" her mother asked in a tone so sharp and cold that it practically stabbed through her.

"That's enough, Molly," her father said, finally speaking up. He was slowing rising from the table and took a few steps towards them both.

"There's no way to sugar-coat this one, Arthur!" she yelled. "My little boy is out there all alone. He's barely seventeen and he's already facing what most adults couldn't bear. And Harry has nobody to look after him while Hermione's parents are Muggles so they basically don't have a clue...Just how am I supposed to react?"

"But this isn't Ginny's fault," her father insisted.

"Well, she's hardly blameless!"

"And I'm right here," Ginny grumbled. She was ignored. Yet again.

She was actually starting to tire of the whole conversation. Ginny was truly sorry that she hadn't told her parents last night, if only just to have avoided this current ordeal.

Luckily for Ginny, the argument was abruptly called to a halt as the Professor McGonagall suddenly Apparated right before them. She was looking rather harried and Ginny was immediately curious. For McGonagall to be flustered, something must have happened. And Ginny had a sinking feeling that it could not be good, whatever it was.

"I'm sorry if I interrupted something," she said hurriedly.

"It's fine," her mother said tersely, looking anything but fine. Her face was red, her hair askew and her arms folded. And her face at the moment could have killed. Fine was the last word Ginny would have used to describe her mother at the moment.

"It's actually good that you're here," her father said. "We have something we need to discuss with you."

"I'm afraid it's going to have to wait for a moment. I've just received some bad news."

"What is it?" Ginny asked grimly, her suspicions confirmed. How much bad news were they expected to take?

"Hogwarts has been closed for good," McGonagall said firmly. "From now on, any magical instruction is to take place at home."

"My God," Mrs. Weasley said softly and sank down into the nearest chair. "I never thought I'd see the day when Hogwarts would actually close down."

"Me neither," Ginny added sadly. The world around them really was changing, and there seemed like less and less that she was able to do about it.

McGonagall sighed and continued, "There's more."

"More?" her father asked incredulously, mirroring her thoughts.

"I'm afraid so. There's been a death, though not on our side. Last night--"

But before she could finish, there was an interruption of an odd scratch at the door. Everyone stilled. It almost sounded to Ginny like a feeble, dying cat searching for shelter. She didn't know what made her do it; maybe it was her frazzled nerves. Or perhaps it was because she could somehow sense that if she did it, there would be no going back. Whatever the reason, Ginny was instinctively drawn towards the door and opened it.

"What are you doing?" someone shouted behind her. She realised later it was her father. Ginny disregarded it.

On the doorstep was not a dying cat, but a human. And the very last person she ever expected to see at The Burrow.