Where'd You Go?

Chapter Eleven. The Storm

Fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step.

--Haruki Murakami

January was a cold and blistery month. For the first time in ages, Ginny was glad that she wasn't at Hogwarts.

She and Draco got along in a weird sort of camaraderie. They would scoff and insult each other. They would be cruel and hold nothing back. Their duelling in lessons would be fierce and often painful. They let all their frustrations out on each other.

And then Draco would show Ginny how to play a few notes on the piano. By the end of one week, she was even able to play a simple song. Sometimes he would guide her hands over the keys and Ginny felt a thrill go through her. And when she memorised a song and played it for him, she felt as if she was creating a magic all her own. Her hands played the few little notes she learned about with ease and she was filled with accomplishment. It seemed right somehow that it was Draco Malfoy that would share this with her, and not anyone else.

Her feelings for him were growing by the day, and it seemed harder and harder to fight it.

Guilt ate her up inside, of course. She knew she was betraying Harry by liking Draco, even though she and Harry technically weren't a couple. It got to the point that she couldn't even look at Draco sometimes.

And others, like when he was kissing her so soft and sweet, or when he let her see a small collection of his drawings, Harry was the furthest thing from her mind.

There was no doubt that she still loved Harry. She knew in her heart that love was not a thing that could disappear - there were just varying states of the emotion. But was it even possible to love one person and to possibly have feelings for another at the same time?

And then on the twenty-third of January, nothing mattered anymore. Her conflicted feelings; the fact that she was having problems brewing cleaning potions; the restlessness and helpless that seemed to forever grip the house. All of it flew out the window.

It was a grey and overcast morning, with rain on the way. Ginny was sitting in the study, poring over one of her textbooks. Suddenly, the skies opened up and the rain started falling down hard. Her legs were draped over the side of an armchair and she stopped swinging them, lying her book facedown on the floor, and listened.

"Are you having an epiphany or something?" Draco's voice drawled from the other side of the room, at the desk where he was seated.

"No," Ginny said, shaking her head and smiling. "I just love the rain. All my brothers do." She felt wherever they were in the world, they were all united by the rain, whether it was actually raining where they were at or not.

A great boom of thunder and a crack of lightning filled the air, and a shiver went down Ginny's spine.

"Cold?"

"A little. You know, we loved the rain but we all hated thunderstorms. Sometimes I would crawl in Bill or Charlie's bed and stay there the night. Later, when it was just me and Ron, he could never turn me away, no matter how much he protested at first. I knew he was a little scared too."

"Very touching," Draco said sarcastically. "Did you and Weasel King wet your pants together too?"

"You're just jealous because you never had siblings."

"Absolutely not," he said brusquely and closed his book with a snap.

The lightning flared again and gave the room a eerie light. Ginny felt slightly uneasy for some reason.

"Mum almost always makes hot chocolate when it storms. Do you want some?" she asked as she rose from the chair.Draco too pushed his chair back and stood up. "I could warm you."

"Hmm...I'm sure you would love that, wouldn't you? But no, I really fancy chocolate at the moment."

Ginny left the room and went down the stairs to the kitchen. She was feeling generally well enough, and yet still there was something she couldn't quite shake off.

She swung the kitchen door open, and sure enough she found her mum stirring a saucepan on the stove. The fire was cackling and the room smelled of warm chocolate. Briefly, she was reminded of the Burrow, as if things were back to normal.

"Hi Mum!" she said brightly.

"Hello dear. I knew you'd be down here. Come sit with me and have a cup."

"Love to."

Ginny got down two mugs from the cupboard and her mother tipped the hot chocolate into them. The both pulled up a chair and gathered around the fire.

"This is nice," her mum murmured.

"Yes," Ginny agreed. They sat in silence for a few minutes, both lost in their own thoughts.

Her mother set down her half empty mug and suddenly smiled. "Do you remember that time when you and Ron were little and both of you demanded that we take a cup of chocolate to his office."

"Oh yeah!" Ginny said, chuckling. "We didn't want him to be left out because we were all home drinking some. Well, Bill might have been at school at the time, but I think the rest of us were here, right?"

"I believe so. I remember you were near tears and I figured it must have been your idea. But Ron refused to back down too."

"Ron was always ready to go on any adventure I wanted to go on. Even if it was just bringing a cup of hot chocolate to Dad."

"Your brother does enjoy his adventures," her mum said softly. "And he's loyal to the bone."

Ginny drained her mug and they sat in a contented silence once more.

And without warning, the kitchen door banged open just as more thunder cracked the air. Her mother had her wand drawn and stepped in front of Ginny; but there was no need as it was only her father.

But as soon as she got a good look at him, she screamed. "Oh my God! Dad, what happened?"

There was blood oozing down his face, he looked physically beaten, his robes were slashed and tattered, and he was drenched to the bone.

"Arthur!" her mother yelled. "What's happened!" She went to him and dragged his weak body to an empty chair.

Ginny's father looked dizzy and disoriented. With shock, she took in his whole appearance and felt ready to faint herself.

"Ministry...attack...You-Know-Who...takeover...lost," he stammered. It looked as if it took all the energy he had just to speak.

Ginny gasped. There had been a fight at the Ministry? And it was clear who was on the losing side. She looked at her father and felt tears well up in her eyes. It hurt so much to see her father so weak.

"Oh, Arthur," her mother hissed quietly while attending to his wounds. Despite the obvious concern in her eyes, she moved with a swiftness that suggested this was not the first time her father had come home in this state.

And then her father uttered the fatal words, the words that changed everything. "Percy...dead."

***

Ginny ran, blindly. Where she was going, she didn't know. There was no intention, no goal. All she knew was that she had to get away from her mother's wrenching sobs and her father's limp and weak body.

She found herself going up the stairs and felt herself trip and fall, and even registered the pain from her kneecap. But she didn't have room in her world to understand any of it. The only thing she knew was that her brother, Percy, was dead. He wasn't living anymore. He wasn't there for her to love or hate, to be annoyed or cared for by him anymore. Percy was gone.

She didn't know how long she was crumpled in a heap on the steps, bawling. She didn't even know if she was crying inwardly or louder than the storm that still raged outside. It could have been hours, days, weeks. It could have minutes. Time, too, had no place in her world.

Dimly, she was aware of strong arms lifting her and carrying her like a baby. A soft and gentle voice whispered things in her ear, but it might as well have been speaking Elfin for all she understood.

Finally, one thing broke through her haze. "Come sleep in my bed tonight. I'll cover you." Bill and Charlie used to say that. So did Percy.

And maybe when she wakes the next morning, she'll find herself a little girl of six again, lying in Percy's warm and comforting bed, knowing they braved the storm together.