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Dreaming a Life
By GryffindorHealer

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Category: Alternate Universe
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Other
Genres: Drama, Romance
Warnings: Extreme Language, Intimate Sexual Situations
Story is Complete
Rating: R
Reviews: 56
Summary: The last thing Ginny Potter heard before the Bludger hit her was ‘Harry! Al!’ Then she woke up in St. Mungo’s, and no one knew who Harry, James, Al, Lily, or Teddy were that she kept asking for. What the hell was happening?
Hitcount: Story Total: 17150; Chapter Total: 1573
Awards: View Trophy Room






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Saturday 6 July, 2002

 

Ginny stood in the doorway staring at her small flat in a Harpies owned building. Pale blue walls stared back, bare but for two items, a large framed poster featuring the entire team holding their brooms, herself just off center, and a much smaller charcoal portrait of her, probably when she was 14, which bore the initials CW in the lower left corner. Bill confirmed when she asked that Charlie did that. Other than those the room held only two overstuffed chairs with a small table between, and a dining table with two oak chairs. The absence of a cat and associated paraphernalia still surprised her. The clean surfaces probably made her mother happy, but Ginny missed all the small things she expected to see. Books left about, with markers sticking out, on Quidditch strategy (hers, and she was not going to mention the romance novels by Èloigné Lesoir) or history or human nature (Harry’s, and she wasn't mentioning how often he nicked those same romance novels either).

Her fingertips massaged her temples lightly, attempting to banish the headache she woke with that morning. Of course none of Harry’s books would be here. In the small bedroom a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages did sit on the bed, with more Quidditch related books on the small bookshelf. Mostly, though, the small space screamed of an empty presence, filled with a focused pursuit of a dream in an obsession to forget an unpleasant past.

She shouldered the rucksack packed with fresh clothing and closed the door behind her. A rather short walk took her to the common room on the first floor, Bill and Fleur waiting on her. Bill smiled wryly when she handed him the folded Unicorns and Roses t-shirt, then nodded approvingly at the fresh jeans and Weird Sisters shirt she now wore.

‘Nice,’ he said.

‘I would be very disappointed in myself if I didn’t like their music.’ She smiled back. ‘I’m ready. Let’s go.’ They all walked over to the large hearth, taking a pinch of powder from the ceramic bowl on the mantle. With a toss, a flare of green flames, and ‘The Burrow,’ they all left the room.

‘Well, look what the kneazle dragged through the floo,’ said George as he steadied Ginny. She blinked a few times, breathing to clear the dizziness that still bothered her since she woke in St. Mungo’s. She mouthed a Thank You at him, then glared.

‘Pretty sure it was me doing the dragging, not the kneazle, George.’

‘Well, Forge, our wee sister is still fierce.’

‘The knock on the noggin notwithstanding?’

‘I’ll knock you on the noggin, Fred,’ she said, pulling him into a hug. ‘I’m sorry I called you a ghost,’ she whispered in his ear. Fred squeezed his arms a bit tighter.

‘That’s all right, Favorite Sister, I’ll accept a stack of autographed photos we can toss in as some extra with an owl-order.’

‘Turn her loose, now, Fred, and let’s get a look at her,’ said Molly, gently pushing Fred aside and taking Ginny into her own arms. She relaxed into the warm motherly presence, closing her eyes and smelling yeasty bread dough and wildflowers from the same shampoo Molly made for her. Then Molly pushed her back to give her a once-over, sharp brown eyes missing nothing. ‘You need to eat a bit more. Those bruises on your sides?’

‘Gone, or just about, Mum. Fleur’s making sure I use that bruise paste you left for me.’ Molly nodded.

‘Alright then. Come over here, I’ve got a scone for you. What are you planning on doing today?’

‘Playing Quidditch with us!’ George tossed in.

‘We need another to make a team.’ followed Fred.

‘Sorry, no flying, Healer’s Orders,’ Ginny nodded toward Fleur, now being hugged by Molly who then tut-tutted over the baby within. ‘I’ll cheer you on though.’

‘Come now, Chaser Weasley…’

‘When did you start following orders…’

‘She follows them if she wants to continue playing for the ‘Arpies, yes.,’ said Fleur, coming up next to Ginny. ‘The team ‘ealer must approve before she flies again.’

Ginny waved down the twins' protests. ‘Trust me, brothers mine, I am not putting my professional career at risk for a pick-up game, much as I’d like to,’ she said.

‘You need to relax, Ginny,’ said Molly, handing her a small plate with several scones and a stern look. ‘You are far too intense about that game.’ Ginny deflected her by taking the plate and then a bite of the top scone. Letting her face light up in pleasure at the tastes took no effort at all, and did gain deepening smile lines around Molly’s mouth and eyes. Smiling as she finished the bite, she looked full into her mother’s eyes.

‘Nobody bakes scones like you do, Mum. But I am not quitting Quidditch any time soon.’

Molly smiled at that, though she did shake her head. ‘You lot will be the death of me. At least go out some, don’t just practice and play Quidditch. What about that young wizard you dated at Hogwarts?’

Ginny looked into her mother’s brown eyes so like her own, and dared a guess. ‘He moved to America, Mum. Really, I’ve told you that how many times?’ Molly’s eyes darkened slightly. Ginny decided to change the subject. ‘I am thinking about popping over to the Lovegoods and see if Luna is in.’ The sounds of voices outside became suddenly louder in contrast to the silence in the kitchen. Molly’s brows knit in concern. Fred and George's eyes widened in surprise, though Ginny thought no one else would note the tiny difference in pupil dilation that Fred always showed and George never did, nor the slight rise in George’s eyebrows that Fred always avoided. The light in all their eyes brought Ginny back to the summer before her 12th birthday, when she would say something and everyone around her stopped talking to look at her.

Molly broke the silence first. 'Oh, Ginny, I know you liked Luna, but surely you remember they moved away after her mother died.'

Ginny swallowed, once, biting down on her initial reaction to finding another bit of her remembered past that didn’t match with her current present. The brittle edge in Molly’s voice tugged at her heart.

‘I’m sorry, Mum. Yes, now I do, and I recall it to be one of the few times  I cried and you held me while I went on about my friend leaving.’ Molly’s eyes softened. Ginny sighed slightly in relief, her gamble that this Molly would be just as supportive as the Molly she knew paying off. She turned to the twins, now smirking. ‘See,’ she said, waving her hand at the side of her head in a circular motion. ‘Scrambled memories. No flying until they settle down, too much motion and they’ll land all out of order.’

Both brothers shook themselves slightly, a hardly noticeable tremor unless one knew to see it. Their eyes met, and their usual mischievous glint found her when they turned back.

‘So, Ginny, tell us this,’ said Fred.

‘How will we know if you’re missing a memory,’ continued George.

‘Or taking the mickey…’

‘And setting the ground for a prank?’

Ginny’s eyes flicked between the two smirking faces. She felt a surge of certainty within her, that some things no matter what would be the same. And even  if this memory didn’t actually happen with these two, it would still take the mickey. ‘You mean like that time during my Third Year, when you would follow me through the halls at Hogwarts?’ Three sets of eyes focused on her now, all waiting for the punchline. ‘When all the boys would whistle and call at me, “Looking hot, Weasley!” And then you two would prance over, blowing kisses at whoever yelled and replying in chorus, “I know.”’

Molly’s eyes flashed and focused on the twins. ‘You didn’t!’ The open mouths and quickly exchanged looks between the twins assured Ginny her response worked.

‘Mum,’ Bill called from the door to the sitting room. And at that distraction Fred and George quickly retreated. ‘Let me borrow Ginny for a bit. I promise I’ll keep her off a broom,’ he said, waving to his sister. Molly nodded and turned to pursue the twins.

‘Nice save,’ said Bill when Ginny joined him in the sitting room. ‘Did they really do that, following you?’

Ginny laughed softly. ‘Yes. Boys started noticing me after Neville took me to the Yule Ball.’ Bill’s face squinched slightly in puzzlement. ‘During the Tri-Wizard Tournament. Part of the whole thing was a ball.’

‘Don’t say that around anyone else, Ginny. There hasn’t been a Tournament since shortly after what the Muggles called the Crimean War. Two of the contestants were killed, from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons.’

‘Oh. There’s going to be a lot of that, things I don’t “remember”. Isn’t there?’

Bill nodded. ‘Part of why I wanted to get you away from Mum for a bit. Fleur’s going to prepare her for more memory “lapses”, but here, look at this.’ He pointed her to a framed photo on the wall of the sitting room. All the Weasley siblings stood together, with an empty space for Percy. Bill finished pouring a dark amber liquid into Charlie’s glass, setting down the bottle of Old Ogdens. Then all of them turned to the camera, raising their glasses in a toast. Fred and George’s lips moved and she could hear them say, “To Perfect Percy.” Then together they all drank the contents of their glasses. All their faces scrunched tight, becoming red in concentration until they all vibrated. With a gush a Mt. Vesuvius of smoke erupted from their ears, noses, mouths, followed by the entire group dissolving in laughter.

‘You’re the one told us to hold it as long as we could,’ he whispered. ‘Let him know we miss him, he’s one of us, but yeah he was a bit of a prat.’ She looked at him, started to speak but he shook his head and motioned towards the door. They left the house and set off across the garden. Ginny blinked in the sunlight, face squinting from the slight surge in her headache, Bill conjured a floppy wide-brimmed hat with a low crown and handed it to her.

‘Not a traditional witch’s hat.’ Ginny smirked at him as she put it on. Shading her eyes helped. Bill chuckled.

‘The Ginny I know never struck me as being particularly traditional, and you don’t either,’ he said, and pointed towards the woods opposite the meadow that served as the family Quidditch pitch.

‘I was going to ask where is he buried, but I’m guessing we’re heading there now,’ she said, and Bill nodded back. They listened to the birds singing as they walked, until Ginny couldn’t wait any longer. ‘So, perfect prat Percy?’

Bill chuckled. ‘Yeah. He got in pretty deep at the Ministry, told Mum and Dad they were hurting the family by getting more involved in the Order. He lost his nut when he learned Charlie and I were in it up to our necks as well. Dad asked him to leave until he calmed down. That happen to you, as well?’

Ginny sighed as they entered the woods shadows and the throbbing behind her eyes eased some more. ‘Pretty much. We all saw him once more before the Battle. He brought the Minister by the Burrow at Christmas because Scrimgeor wanted to see Harry. The Twins and I threw mashed parsnips at him.’

Bill laughed. ‘Messy.’

‘Yeah. He was still wearing some when Harry got back and then Percy and Scrimgeor left.’ They walked single-file along the path through the trees, shifting dappled sunlight making Ginny keep her eyes on the ground.

Bill continued talking as they walked. ‘Turns out, though, shortly after Voldemort was seen in the ministry, he sent Dad a charmed memo about some nonsense, and the hidden message being he wanted to meet with Dad. They got together somewhere private in Muggle London near to the Ministry since neither one could be away long. He apologized to Dad for being so taken in by Fudge, and began acting as a spy at the Ministry. Dad never told us who passed the information to him. We figured it out when Percy joined us at the start of the Battle. Apologized to the whole family.’

Glancing up, she could see brighter light ahead as they neared the end of the woods. Ginny tilted her head, her own turn to show puzzlement. ‘If there wasn’t a Tri-Wizard in ‘94, when did Riddle come back, then?’

Bill nodded in thought. ‘Yeah, it was that same school year. Someone infiltrated Hogwarts and enchanted the Quidditch Cup into a portkey. Two Hufflepuffs grabbed it at the same time when they won. Only one came back. Cedric Diggory shoved her behind a big gravestone, told her first chance she got to use the spell that reverses a portkey when they arrived in a cemetery. She watched as Diggory was captured, his blood used in a ritual to give Voldemort his body back, then Voldemort killed him. She’s the one who brought the news back to Hogwarts.’

They cleared the trees, and Ginny squinted in the brighter light even with her hat. Ahead she saw a marble marker, and Bill started towards that. Ginny kept her eyes lowered as they crossed the open space, surprised when she lifted them to see two marble gravestones. ‘Bill,’ she whispered as he knelt and began brushing leaves away from the closer one. She froze as she read the words engraved on it over his shoulder.

 

Arthur S. Weasley

6 February 1950 - 2 May 1998

Husband, Father, Son, Brother

Greater love has no wizard, than he lay down his life for his family

 

‘No!’ Her hands and feet suddenly cold, her legs started trembling. Bill looked up from his task to see her rapidly shaking her head, her eyes locked on the stone. He stood to embrace her when she cried out, pressing her hands to her temples. ‘No! No!’ Her knees folded and he eased her to the ground. ‘I told myself, she didn’t suffer as much as I did. Oh Bill! Not Dad. How?’

‘Mum was dueling Bellatrix, who got in something that knocked Mum down. Dad picked up the fight there, and hit her the same time she hit him.’ He hugged her close, the floppy hat crumpling between them as she continued shaking her head. Crying out she turned away from Bill, leaning slightly as she retched dry heaves.

‘Hurts.’ Her hands pressed tightly to the sides of her head, eyes closed. ‘Harry, where are you? I need you.’ Bill’s wand appeared in his hand, and with a whisper his Patronus emerged, the silvery weasel turning to him briefly as he concentrated, then flying off towards the house. Next he tapped a small section of broken branch on the ground. Ginny thought she heard the word ‘Portus’, then Bill wrapped the bit of branch in her hand, his own tight around hers.

‘I’ve got you, Ginny, I’m here.’ Bill said. She felt the familiar harsh pull at her navel, and with the whirling sensations she retched again. The strong odor of antiseptic and bright lights of a treatment room at St. Mungo’s spurred the pain in her head, and squinting her eyes tightly closed, she succumbed to darkness.

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