T̶h̶e̶ D̶a̶r̶k̶s̶i̶d̶e̶

For the Best

Grief. That's what still floated in the air and clung to the walls, wiping every flicker of a smile
away from Ginny's face.

It still felt so wrong to smile.
It still felt so wrong to exist.
It still felt so wrong to have to face all of this alone.

Harry had died a fighter, and Ginny knew that's how he'd wanted it to end.
That didn't mean his death stung less, or that she handn't crumbled every morning when she woke up and he wasn't there to give her a hug and kiss her forehead.

Selfishly, Ginny wished he's been less brave - maybe he'd still be alive if he hadn't embraced his fate so easily.

But that wasn't who Harry had been, and Ginny still loved that about him. She'd spent every day after the funeral writing a journal. She scribbled down her every memory with Harry in it, from the moment she first saw him at King's Cross, pushing a cart with a big snowy owl on it, to the way his hair had felt when she ran her fingers through it when they had kissed for the
first time.

She missed him so much that his absence felt like a part of herself had died with him that
night. She wouldn't forgive herself if anyone else she cared about died. That's why she'd had
to do it.
"Gin, what are you doing out here in the cold?"

Ginny startled and looked at where her brother, Ron, was standing by the door of the Burrow. The dark rings under his eyes hadn't faded at all, and that hollow look didn't suit him
at all.

The change had been drastic. When Harry had died, Ron had refused to speak about it to
anyone for weeks. Ginny truly wanted to say that Hermione was the only thing that kept him
together, but even she hadn't been around as much as she used to since the Battle.

Ginny shrugged and concentrated on not letting the tears spill. She refused to break in front
of her brother. "I could ask you the same question."

Ron looked at her, frowning. "I just wanted to get some... air."

"Liar." Ginny scoffed, but it came out more as a sob.

"Okay, I wanted to check on you." He admitted. That was rich, coming from him, Ginny
thought. He was the one that needed looking after. He was the one that needed saving.
Every ounce of hope that had once glimmered in his eyes was gone.
"You have been at work the whole week. Can't you just a day off?

Oh.. only if he knew...

"They need me." Ginny forced a sigh.

"Oh, come on... we can bake that apple cake that Victoire loves and bring it to Shell Cottage.
Bill is probably planning a way to drag us there by now anyway. Please?"

Ginny considered her options. It would seem suspicius if she didn't show up when the mark on her arm burned, but Ron needed this more than ever. He'd stopped caring about a lot of things since he lost his best friend, but family had never been one of them. Besides, Ginny hadn't seen him crack a joke in months.

"Alright." She agreed with a small smile. "But if they ask me to come in for that Harpies
games last minute, don't think I'll hesitate to leave."

***

Ron was a mess. He sat there and stared at the soup in front of him.
"Eat up Ronnie, or it's going to get cold." George, who had alredy finished his dinner and
was occupying himself with building house of cards, said.

Ron picked up his spoon and filled with soup. Slowly, he brought it to his mouth. Before it reached his lips, though, the hot steam emanating from it reached his nose and his heart started racing.

For a moment he was back at Hogwarts, battling Death Eaters into that corridor when the air exploded and his body was thrown back. He could still fill the smoke after the explosion in his lungs, making it impossible to breathe properly. In his head, he was staggering over stone and wood and toward the figure slumped on the ground. Fred. Fred.

Fred! Panicked, he dropped the spoon into the bowl, which resulted into a large stain on his shirt.

"I guess you've gone another day without getting anything into your system." Charlie, who'd
never returned to Romania after the Battle, said from the other side of the table. "Bad Ron."
"Not a dog." Ron said, but his tone wasn't light. He was still shaken up from the flashback
that had replayed in his head every time he attempted to eat anything.
"Maybe Hermione could help with this." Ginny said quietly, "Have you talked to her about it?"
"No." Ron's eyes remained firmly on the bowl of soup. "I haven't seen her in three days.

She's also been very busy. I guess you two have that in common, Ginny."
Ginny started to reply, but Charlie cut her off. "You should ask her to come over, Ron. Atleast send her an owl. We've all had friends over this week, so we won't mind if she stays
here for a couple days."
Ron narrowed his eyes, "I did write a letter. And I'm not a charity case." He added sharply.

"Hermione is-- ugh, whatever is going on between us is private, so live it alone."

"As you wish" Charlie rolled his eyes and left the room.