Bewitched Times
By: Adrial
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot, my friends.
AN: Hello all! Thanks in advance for reading. I started this fic a few years ago, right after HBP so a few of the facts won't line up with all the amazing information we received in DH (eg: for all you Fred fans, he will be making a cameo); however, I hope that won't deter you from reading. It's set far after the war, about 9 years, and takes look at how the Wizarding world has coped with the tragedies of a war that left few unscathed. I'm bringing some good times to their lives, no worries!
Hope you all enjoy and I appreciate any reviews!
~Adrial
-------------------------------------------------------------
In flat number 6 of one of Wizarding London's trendiest apartments for the "up and coming" witch or wizard, the television showed an obnoxiously made-up anchorwoman, her bottle-blonde frock popping off the screen almost to the point of blinding the dazed viewers at home. From between two shockingly red lips, brief summaries of the stories that were trailing along at the bottom of the screen like cheesy advertisements tacked onto the back of an airplane poured out in reams of monotony. Her co-anchor's plastered look of utmost interest was given away by the way he would jolt as if doused by cold water whenever she'd ask him for his opinion on the "pressing matter at hand."
Beyond the 2-D blond atrocity, a lonely coffee table strained beneath the weight of a heap of randomly placed and apparently forgotten objects-months old magazines, coffee mugs half full of stale, black liquid, an open notebook with a candy wrapper jammed into the valley between pages, napkins and plastic silverware dotted here and there around white take-away trays that smelled of long-ago dinners and obvious neglect.
The walls were stark white, save for a sloppy looking painting hanging in a failed attempt to give the space some interest. However, the splashy watercolor did manage to set off the mismatched pillows strewn about the floor and the patches of spilled red-wine that were only half-hidden by randomly placed rugs that looked suspiciously like place-mats.
Belinda-what's-her-face droned on about a scandalous story concerning black-market kitchen appliances knicked from some warehouse in Bristol, but the soundly snoring body sprawled out on the couch seated directly in front of the grave-yard table heard not a word of the commentary.
At first glance, one would have mistaken the occupant to be an over-turned basket of laundry, but upon closer inspection, would see that attached to one end of the mass of clothing was a bundle of fiery red hair. It framed a pale, freckly face with delicate features that were brutally marred by a trail of drool dangling precariously from the corner of two pink lips. Clutched between slender fingers was the remote control, aimed directly at the bubbly anchor as if threatening to mute her if she continued to babble about dodgy blenders and egg-beaters.
In the distance, the phone rang as it had been for the past twenty minutes straight. Again and again, the answering machine popped on with the cheery voice beseeching the caller to "Leave a message at the beep!" Around seven pissed off messages later, however, the phone suddenly lay as still as the lazy sleeper ten feet away.
Silence filled the cramped flat afterwards, save for more startling news stories, until the floor shook outside with heavy footsteps and suddenly, as if the world was ending that very moment, someone began to brutally assault the front and only door with two balled up fists.
"Ginevra Weasley!"
The body on the couch rolled over drearily and moaned. The knocking persisted, now accompanied by the jeering ring of the door bell.
"Bugger the hell off!" Came the grumpy reply as the mess of clothing and red hair stretched with a jaw-splitting yawn.
However, the caller seemed to be disinclined to obey and continued to beat the door so hard that the hinges squeaked.
"Open the Goddamn door, Ginny! It's three o'clock in the bloody afternoon and, if you haven't forgotten, your brother is getting married in an hour and half!"
That seemed to do the trick. As if the couch had regurgitated its lone occupant, arms and other assorted limbs went flying onto the floor with a muffled yelp.
"Alright….I'm up! Stop with the damn knocking, would you?!" Struggling to her feet, Ginny Weasley tried to grab hold of something to heave herself up with. Her hand landed with a disgusting squelch into one of the unfinished take-away meals, and she groaned. After another attempt, she caught onto the edge of the couch and pulled herself into a slightly wobbly but still standing position.
Once she managed to get her bearings, she padded over to the door and threw it open with such force that she nearly toppled over. A blinding pain broke out in the middle of her forehead, and she groped for something to hold on to. When she was sure she'd be having a face-to-face confrontation with the stiffly carpeted floor, she felt strong arms wrap themselves around her slender waist and hoist her upright again.
"My God, Gin…What the hell's happened to you?" Two blue eyes took in the appearance of the fumbling young woman who was trying desperately to free herself from the vice-like grip on her body.
Ginny righted herself and tried to pat down the mass of fiery tangles that surrounded her head.
"What d'you mean, Colin? Don't I look alright?" She gestured to her three-sizes too big flannel pajamas and fuzzy bunny slippers as if she were modeling some grand fashion statement-Purely Pissed Fashion by Ginevra Weasley.
"Was it Jeffery again? Christ…come over and sit down before you collapse."
Ginny immediately scowled and shook off the hands of long time best friend and, coincidentally, her boss, Colin Creevy. No longer scrawny and obnoxiously over-zealous, Colin Creevy had grown into one of the most adored entrepreneurs of the "New Age." He tackled success with ease and gracefully shook off his immaturity for business savvy and charm along the way.
"I can manage on my own, thanks." She looked around helplessly, throwing aside cushions and papers, haphazardly in search of something.
Colin shook his head exasperatedly, "I can see that." He reached into his pocket and withdrew a long, thin object and gave it a flick.
"Accio Ginny's wand."
Summoned from beneath an over-turned TV guide, Ginny's wand flew into his palm and he handed it to her smugly.
She grunted in false gratitude and made her way into the tiny kitchenette that consisted of a small stove and a shiny black refrigerator. The fairly spotless countertops revealed that the path of her misery had halted with the living room.
Pulling various ingredients from the shelves that flanked the walls, she threw them into an old iron cauldron and set them to boil with a wave of her wand.
"What are you doing?" Colin sniffed the air. It smelled of dried owl dung, and he knew whatever it was would probably cure an illness as soon as it would cause one.
Ginny rolled her eyes, "I'm getting rid of this sodding head ache. What are you doing?" She added sarcastically.
Colin stood and pushed her aside from the green, bubbling mess she was preparing. As he took over, adding more or less of the set out ingredients to the mixture, the liquid contents began to take on the pale, blue hue they were meant to and he filled a large mug with a generous amount. Ginny took the proffered potion wearily and downed it without coming up for air.
Colin watched his best friend with tightly pursed lips. When she finished and smacked her lips with a nasty scowl, he took the mug and placed it in the sink.
"Are you going to tell me what brought you to this despicable state or not?" He casually asked and drew up a seat next to hers at the counter.
Ginny mumbled something and ground her teeth violently
"Didn't quite catch that," Colin said.
"Jeff's an arse!" Ginny exclaimed and promptly burst into tears. Colin wrapped his arms around her shaking frame and let her finish before speaking.
"Oh, Gin…was it that secretary?"
The reply was a sniffle and jerk of her head up and down.
"I knew he was a prat from the start. You never should have gotten involved with him, you know. All that money and obvious obsession for luxury. He must have seen you as another trinket to add to his collection-"
"Colin, just let me be depressed for a moment, alright? You can rub it in my face later."
"Unfortunately, Gin, we don't have a moment. Your brother isn't going to take it lightly if his only sister doesn't show up at his wedding on time."
Ginny started and immediately leapt off of the stool, making a mad dash down a short hallway that lead to her bedroom.
"Holy fucking shit…I look like hell! Colin, grab my dress from the wardrobe and do a gentle pressing charm, would you? I've got to find those sodding heels…did I leave them at your pl-Oh! Never mind! I found them!" She tossed the shoes onto her bed and dashed into the bathroom. As the water ran, Colin waved his wand over her simple, strapless gown. The color, thank Merlin, was a beautiful ocean teal and would do wonders for Ginny's hair-he doubted whether Hermione would appreciate the hue, though. It was a far stretch from earth tones and tweed.
Instantly, the minor wrinkles faded and a minute later Ginny was dashing from the steamy bathroom, her wand blowing her hair dry while she used her free hand to brush her teeth.
"Phank-oo!" Came her toothpaste-y reply as he handed her the gown. Five minutes later, she was hopping into her shoes while Colin struggled to zip up the back of gown without ripping it in half.
"Ginny, would you stop that bloody dancing around?"
She obliged and gave him a split second to finish up before reaching for her wand and using it to twist and curl her long mane of red into an up-do that left her face framed by light, fiery curls. Then mascara, lip gloss, a little blush and…
"Tra-la!" She struck a silly pose for her bemused friend and accepted his hand as pulled her over to the door way.
"You look magnificent, Gin. Now, take this-" He thrust a gaily wrapped package into hands, "And I will see you at the ceremony, alright? I've got to pop by the office beforehand. Oh," his eyes lit up as he remembered, "Don't forget that you're heading to the Le Vin de Ciel tomorrow for the elf-made wine tasting. I want a full article ready on Monday."
Ginny rolled her eyes and took the wedding gift, feeling immensely grateful for having such a wonderful friend at that time.
"Right, right, can't wait to get paid for getting pissed off elf-wine." She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek and breathless thanks before disappearing with a CRACK.
Colin sighed and ran a hand through his light blond hair. With a wave of his wand, the trashed living room re-collected itself in a more habitable fashion and began to smell less like a moldy rubbish bin. As an afterthought, he transfigured one of Ginny's many ancient magazines into a vase of golden sunflowers and sat them on the coffee table with a satisfied smile.
"Oi, Ginny, my friend. What would you do without me?" But the cheerily restored living room did not answer for its owner and Colin shrugged before squinting his eyes in concentration. A second later, he was gone, leaving the cheery voice of Belinda-whatever-her-name to warn the empty flat against purchasing blenders from a man in a dodgy black trench coat and scraggly beard.
--------------------------------------------
Ginny's arrival at the Burrow was barely noticed amongst the noisy hysteria that was going on. Stacked to the ceiling as if in some crude imitation of a skyscraper, was box after box of wedding gifts, all wrapped in various flowery, marital-type wrapping and stuck here and there with frilly, pink bows. Ginny glanced at the swaying tower reproachfully and opted to place her own gift in a smaller pile beside it.
Beyond the gifts were flailing witches scurrying all over the place as if knocked in the face by a jiggly-legs jinx, and Ginny smirked in spite of herself. There was Fleur, chasing her nine year old daughter, Annabelle, around with her tiny flower girl gown, and on the other side was Fleur's sister Gabrielle, eyeing her teal gown as if it were going to come alive that instant and strangle her. Standing in the kitchen were Katie and Angelina, cradling tiny infants in their arms and dressed semi-formally in their wedding-attire. Somewhere off tracking down their mischievous namesakes, were Fred and George Weasley, being watched with bemused expressions by their wives.
On the mismatched tables and furniture were mounds of familiar teal fabric beneath tape measures and pin-cushions. In the middle of the sitting area, her mother stood, shoulders draped with fabric as she carefully instructed her wand in sewing up the side of the dress a very exasperated witch was donning.
"…going to kill him for making me rip my dress!" The usually even-tempered faced Hermione spat, glancing apologetically at Mrs. Weasley who, once again, was trying to get her to calm down lest she poke herself with the furiously moving sewing needle.
"Oh, dear, no use crying over spilled potion is there? I'm sure he didn't realize-"
"Travel by broomstick, he says," Hermione ranted, trampling over Mrs. Weasley's next words of comfort, "When he bloody well knows I can't stand flying. And in my bridesmaids dress no less! And just look at the state of my-Oh! Ginny! Thank Merlin!"
Ginny, having been watching the exchange with a bemused expression on her pretty face, smiled warmly at her longtime friend.
"Hello, Hermione. You're in a cheery mood today, aren't you?" She stepped up to kiss her on her cheek and did the same to her mother.
It certainly wasn't like Hermione to become so frazzled and short-tempered-well, at least not so worried about her appearance as she seemed to be. Ginny really couldn't blame her, though. Her wild brown hair was in complete disarray and seemed to be nearly strangling her red-hued visage as she steamed in anger.
"I just wanted today to go so smoothly…." She wrung her fingers together in obvious anxiety and sighed.
"Relax, Hermione, you're not the one getting dumped on my brother. Luna's the one who should be having a coronary." She winked playfully and ignored her mother's cluck of disapproval.
Hermione laughed softly and relaxed, letting Mrs. Weasley's wand work its magic until she finally stood and wiped her brow, exclaiming, "There! Good as new, dear."
"Thank you so much, Mrs. Weasley! You're a lifesaver!" Hermione swiftly but carefully stepped off of the stool and pecked Mrs. Weasley's cheek.
Ginny nodded her head as if in agreement. "Yes, yes, absolutely lovely, Mum. Shall I take Hermione upstairs have a look at that hair?" Not waiting for an answer, she grabbed Hermione by the elbow and practically dragged her out of the room and upstairs to her old bedroom.
Once safely stashed inside, Ginny's body sighed with relief. Something about being in her hold room with her walls plastered with posters of quidditch players and trendy singers all smiling winsomely around at her made her feel so at ease. Her bed, still covered in her old favorite quilt embroidered by her mother with sunflowers and daisies that smelled real when she crawled between them at night, sat in the corner beside her old school trunk.
She glanced around at her dressing table with bottles of hair potions tucked neatly onto one corner and old Teen Witch volumes on another.
"Ginny?" Hermione broke into her reminisce and touched her forearm gently.
Ginny sighed and plastered on a cheery grin, whipping out her wand in the process. "Honestly, what was he thinking? Broom-flying when you're to be in a wedding?" She began instructing it to smooth out the frizzy curls as Hermione's eyes sparked with indignation.
"Yes, well, he'll be taking the couch tonight, won't he?" Ginny grinned impishly as Hermione's hair began to take on a more reasonable appearance.
Sighing, Hermione shrugged. "Well...that's to say he'd actually be coming around any more after today."
Ginny let go of her wand promptly. "You didn't chuck him did you? Oh, Hermione…" She retrieved her wand and shook her head wearily at Hermione's guilty wince.
"Well, I had to! It's only been two weeks and he's driving me mad!" She heaved an exasperated sigh. "Taking me out to dinner every single night, talking about all these interesting trips he's been on to different countries, deciphering runes for the ministry, helping set up orphanages in Scotland-"
"Oh, yes, Trevor Rightman is the world's biggest prat if I've ever heard of one. Imagine," She began, twirling Hermione's hair into an up-do like her own, "Spending loads of galleons on you every chance he got! And the nerve of him, being a genious git who cares about needy children. It's a damn good bit of luck you got rid of him before he started donating to charities or something."
Hermione scowled. "Oh, leave me alone. I don't know what's wrong with me lately. I can't seem to find interest in anybody I date. Not even that bloke who owned ten libraries in Luxembourg…"
Ginny patted her friend's back in a compassionate manor, but bit her tongue when eager words like "Why don't you just give it up and admit that you're in love with someone else already?" or "Ever fancy setting up a date with the one you've been gone on for ages instead of wizards you know you'll end up chucking before the starters have even been finished?"
Instead, she held up a mirror for Hermione to "ooh" and "aah" at her lovely reflection, giving herself satisfied smile.
"Lovely, Gin. You're a miracle worker."
Ginny shrugged modestly. "Anything for you my darling. Now, as we're on the subject of fuckwit losers, let us bring to the table one Jeffery Brighton."
Hermione let out an audible gasp. "It was his secretary wasn't it? Oh, Gin-"
` "How is it that every one seems to have cottoned on that he was shagging his secretary but me?"
Hermione gave her friend a sympathizing look. "Well, Gin...you have to admit. You never really listened when we tried to tell you."
And that was the problem with having sensible, caring friends. They always saw the obvious before you did and when the tried to tell you, you shrugged them off as jealous hags and made a total arse of yourself in the end.
"I know…I'm a joke."
Hermione grabbed her hands and squeezed them affectionately, "You, Ginny Weasley, are not a joke. You're the best journalist this side of Britain. You've got a lovely flat and thousands of adoring fans. And, you're smart, witty, lovely to be around, and the best girl friend I've got."
Ginny nodded to each one of Hermione's list of her attributes and suddenly, her chest expanded and her chin lifted in to the air. She was right. Ginny Weasley was a wonderful friend and successful journalist who could do without snotty, cheating pricks like Jeff Brighton and would go on to make loads of galleons and-
"Ginny, if you don't stop now, we'll never fit that fat head of yours through the door."
Snapping out of her reverie, Ginny smacked Hermione on the shoulder playfully and laughed.
"You're supposed to be boosting my morale, `Mione!"
Chortling, Hermione grabbed her friend's arm and headed towards the door. "I'll do just that after we marry off that brother of yours-with lots of wine and wizard-bashing at my place, alright?"
Ginny's mood soared. Great, she would be back in the swing of things in no time. One more night of pissing herself with a good friend couldn't hurt could it? And besides, it was rare she ever got Hermione to drink more than a glass of wine-this was an Occasion if there ever was one and she'd be damned if she was going to let anything get in the middle of it.
And then, like a ton of owl dung dropping on her head, she remembered. Occasion. Wine. Elf-made wine tasting column due on Colin's desk first thing on Monday morning.
"Oh, bugger!" She exclaimed as she followed Hermione into the foyer where the rest of her bustling family was gathered, ready to Apparate to the Lovegood estate or floo with their respective families.
"What is it?" Hermione said as she greeted Fred and George with smiles and hugs.
"I'm supposed to be in Surrey tomorrow tasting elf-made wines and chatting it up with snotty old cows for a story due Monday-Hello, Fleur!" She beamed at her sister-in-law, whom after nine years of getting used to, seemed to finally be growing on her. She did have an incredible sense for fashion and had become one of her favorite tag-alongs whenever she felt the urge to run up her charge card.
"'ello, my dear! `ow is the jurn-oh-leez-eem going?" She smiled brightly, apparently pleased with her pronunciation of the highly difficult term. Fleur had barely changed since Ginny had first met in her third year, watching her fearlessly compete in the Tri-Wizard tournament. She was a remarkable vision in her light yellow sundress, standing next to her equally stunning daughter. Some thought the loss she suffered during the War had ebbed her veela glow, and as she stood there, her hands latched on to Annabelle's tiny shoulders like a life preserver, Ginny thought if anything, she looked more human and beautiful than ever.
Ginny smiled back and shrugged, "Never better, actually. I'll be expecting a promotion any day now." Fat bloody chance, she thought. Not when she was producing top-notch articles for her editor at a fraction of what other witches like herself were getting just because he happened to be her best friend.
"Right then, shall we be off? I expect the others will already be there. Only-twenty minutes to go!" Molly Weasley's face burned a bright, feverish hue as she started calling out orders to everyone, "Arthur pass `round the floo powder would you? Fred and George, please stop teaching your sons how to turn flower arrangements into spaghetti! Angelina, dear, would you mind catching your Billy before he knocks over the-oh, Merlin. I'll have to fix that later, then. Off we go!"
Fred, George, and their wives, Angelina Johnson Weasley and Katie Bell Weasley each gathered their respective children and a reproachful looking Annabelle and took turns floo-ing to the location of the wedding.
The remaining members gathered together and after a moment, several CRACKS sounded and the living room was left empty as ever, with an over-turned coffee table lying comically in the center.
------------------------------------------------------
The Lovegood estate was truly magnificent, Ginny observed as she peered down the petal-strewn aisle. Directly behind the altar lay a ten acre lake, sparkling gaily in the spring sunshine on the perfect May afternoon. Guests had gathered along the water's edge preceding the ceremony, sipping glasses of white wine and Ginny casually wondered where she could find one for herself.
She hadn't joined the wedding party right off, as she was keen on taking in the lovely scenery where her quirky brother was to say his vows. Apparently, The Quibbler, however nutty and maniacal in context, seemed to have quite a thriving stint in the wizarding world. Its owner, Xeonophilius Lovegood, Luna's pleasant, if not a bit odd, father now stood mingling with his guests, pointing out the ginger colored fairies that were responsible for the sparkling glow in the air that he'd had imported from Tibet.
"Never mind that Winky Widgets could have contaminated their wings, but they seem to be doing lovely don't they? And just look at my lovely Luna's friends! Never realized she she'd been so popular over the years…Oh, yes, I'm very proud of my daughter. Though, have you heard about the threatening invasion of Gobble Gunders in our sewer system? I'd second guess myself next time I went to flush if I were you…"
Smiling bemusedly, Ginny left the mingling guests and set off for the sprawling mansion that sat behind them all, a testament to a very successful business. Inside, she asked a friendly witch with an abundance of curly blond hair to direct her to the groom's room, and she smiled as she headed off in the proper direction.
At the large mahogany door, she knocked thrice and waited. After the sound of scuffling robes, the door was cracked and tiny sliver of her brother's face could be seen.
"Oh, thank God it's you, Gin." He threw the door open and let her in. "I was scared it'd be that crazy old woman again-she's had me going through baby names all morning. Ahh, bless you, Harry." He'd taken a proffered glass of amber liquid that smelled much like firewhisky from his old friend's hands gulped it down with fervor.
Smiling a bid stupidly, he exclaimed, "There's a reason I made you best man, Potter."
Ginny giggled and sidled up to the bemused looking Harry to give him a hug and quick kiss. Fred and George were seated in another corner of the room, heads bent over some tricky looking paper work-no doubt the plans to expand their business yet again.
"How's he holding up?" She muttered, watching as Ron immediately set to pacing up and down the length of the room.
Harry shrugged and ran a hand through his ever-messy locks. "As good as could be expected. I've got a bucket all ready just in case his nerves get the better of him." He nodded toward a silver bin in the corner.
Ginny sighed and said, "Well, I can't stay long. Luna will be needing her third bridesmaid won't she?" Harry smiled and kissed her cheek once more. Ginny walked up to her smartly dressed brother and grabbed him by the shoulders.
"Ronald-calm down. You look fantastic and you love Luna more than anyone. This is nothing to be nervous about. You get to spend the rest of your life with a beautiful, caring witch who has enough patience to put up with you. You should be dying of happiness."
Ron's blue eyes seemed to come a bit more into focus at her words.
"Right. Luna. Beautiful. Patient. Bloody sodding hell, I think I'm going to chuck up all that stupid pudding her grandmother made me eat this morning…"
Laughing despite her brother's obvious predicament, she left Harry to deal with him.
"Good luck, Ron. I love you," She added and quickly kissed him on his cheek before leaving.
It wasn't very hard to find the bride's compartments, as the smell of perfumes and sounds of giddy giggles were coming from a door just a few down from the groom's.
Ginny braced herself to squeal and smile to the point of hurting herself and opened the door.
"Ginny! Oh, I was worried you'd never find the place. This house is so big, I even get lost some times." Luna Lovegood, now Ginny's age at twenty-five and looking lovelier than ever in a lace and beaded white gown, was seated amongst several laughing witches. She was almost shocked the infamously eccentric witch hadn't turned up wearing a burnt orange pants suit or something made from gurdy roots.
Mrs. Weasley had taken to playing the part of nervous mum for Luna since, sadly, her own mother was not alive to see her daughter married. Luna seemed to be enjoying the attention, really, and her usual glazed expression had melted away as she had spent months pouring over the details of her wedding.
Hermione and Gabrielle stood off to the side in their matching gowns. Beside Luna, an elderly woman with salt and pepper hair galore and huge blue eyes that pounced on those in their path like two hungry predators, was rapidly rattling off a list of names as if she were expecting Luna to pop out a child as soon as the vows had ended.
"What about Connor? Now, that's a fine name for a young chap, isn't it? Or Louisa for a girl. Lovely, isn't it Luna, my love? Oh, if only your mother were alive. She'd have been so proud…"
Ginny suddenly realized what crazy woman her brother had been afraid of encountering before and steered herself in the opposite direction. Seeking refuge in Hermione and Gabrielle-well in Hermione at least-Ginny made quick work of relieving Hermione of her half-drunk glass of sparkling grape juice and downed the rest in one swig. Each of the three bridesmaids were holding a bouquet of crisp white lilies bespeckled with matching teal crystals that seemed to have been enchanted to vibrate a cool, blue hue. Ginny wondered where her lovely lily bouquet was.
"Have you seen Ron, then?" Hermione quipped, fiddling with her bouquet thoughtfully.
Ginny, having triumphantly discovered her bouquet on the dressing table they were standing beside snorted humorously.
"Yes…quite the mess, that one."
Hermione chuckled. "D'you remember the first time they met in our fifth year? I never thought I'd seen a more mismatched pair, but-"
"Look at us now," Luna said, smiling serenely as she came up beside them. Hermione paused for a moment and then laughed genially, beaming at Luna in her gorgeously laced gown. The beading was so fantastic; Ginny peered in to have a closer look while exclaiming at how beautiful it was to Luna's obvious, yet nonchalant, delight. When she'd finished tracing the floral pattern with her eyes, she lifted them, sensing an awkward moment in her midst.
Sure enough, Hermione's smile was almost undetectably strained and her honey colored gaze wasn't shining at all. Ginny wrapped an arm around her best friend and squeezed imperceptibly. It hadn't come as a surprise to anyone when Ron and Hermione had silently split up not long after the War had ended. Yet, seeing him married off to someone else must have stung just a bit for her dear friend in spite of how thrilled Hermione was for him.
As Ginny stood there, holding her friend and smiling happily at her soon-to-be sister-in-law, she fell backward into her memories. She'd been there that day in the midst of battle, tending to the wounded and any who stood a chance against the number of curses and spells that were constantly soaring in all directions.
Her hands were bloodied and shaking as she tried desperately to wrap bandages around a weeping witch's ruined arm. The cries of the fallen or injured barely shocked her any longer, yet simply rolled along the muddy, tousled robes flung around her body to keep out the piercing cold of dawn. She squinted against the sun and strained to keep focused on the patient at hand.
But in an instant, as if the entire world had halted, the cries faded away. Spells stopped in mid air and the rolling black blanket of clouds that had marked each day for the past two years with eminent danger suddenly disappeared. Shadows stirred as the brightest of sunrises spilled out from the heavens, staining the frigid battlefield below in hues of red and gold.
And there he was, standing on top of the grassy hill that separated the battlefield from that the place where Lord Voldemort had finally fallen. The crowd drank in the sight of their new savior, the boy who lived yet again, who stood there-a beacon of hope borne from the ashes of war.
He slowly began to descend the grassy knoll upon which he stood, his face and arms covered in shredded robes and bloody wounds, his legs quaking while trying to support his weight. Ginny's body ached to run to him and tend to his injuries. Madame Pompfrey had been long since killed by a curse gone astray, but she still had all her potions and healing manuals…
But all she could do, like every one else, was stare as the sea of silent witches and wizards parted for him to pass. And then, after an endless minute, he finally stopped abruptly in his tracks. Hermione and Ron were there, their eyes shining with relief and pain and everything they'd been feeling since the first day they'd met the man who now stood before them with two wands clutched tightly in his hand. Without speaking, he unclenched his grip around one of them and lifted it into the air where it lay suspended on its own. In one flick of his own wand, the other exploded into a thousand pieces of green ash.
And then Harry crumbled, his body sprawled out on the blood-splattered ground in silence. Ginny dropped her bandages and ran over to the three of them. Ron and Hermione heaved their friend from the ground and Ginny helped them into one of the medi-tents that were stationed nearby. They laid him to sleep on a comfortable bed that Hermione procured out of the tip of her wand. His face was pale as ever and stretched thin over his cheek bones, but as she leaned close to press a gentle kiss to the scar on his forehead, she felt the warmth of his breath against her chin and felt her heart sigh with relief. At that point Ginny knew that nothing would ever be the same.
Shortly after, he was whisked off to St. Mungo's for proper treatment for the various curses he'd sustained on his body and physical injuries as well. There, flanked on either side by Hermione and Ron, Ginny had stayed with him, her hand grasped firmly around his unharmed one. The skin on his wand hand was still charred and bloody from the battle of his wand versus Voldemort's. And so they remained, until one afternoon she felt his green gaze upon her and glanced up to see the smile she'd been longing to see for three weeks. Ron and Hermione flew to his side, but he kept his eyes on hers, his hand gripped tightly around her own. Letting each other go once again, that's what they were doing.
Silently, Ginny nodded as tears streamed down her face. Things could never be the same between them. It was time for a fresh start, and that didn't mean digging into the past for some silly school affair-it seemed like ages ago when he dropped her hand at Dumbledore's heart-wrenching funeral and set out to embark upon his journey without her. And now, as she let go of his, allowing him to recover and start anew, she allowed herself to do the same.
Around a month or so later, after Harry had sprung back to life right before their eyes, Ginny suspected the same had happened to Ron and Hermione when they quietly broke off with each other. They decided that the friendship between the three of them was enough to sustain them now, and the worry and fear for Harry's life no longer capable of gluing their relationship together.
So, fast forwarding to three years later, Colin Christopher Creevy had become one of the most successful entrepreneurs to date, having built the foundation for the most widely received and adored wizard publication since Teen Witch. Based on the bright future that lay ahead for their world, the Bewitched Times paved the path for wizards and witches alike to take a step toward the unknown. Colin had answered many questions about his daring new investment and whether he planned to do away with the ancient wizarding traditions they all knew and loved with the utmost confidence in his endeavor.
"I've got one interest with this magazine and one alone-that is to give our people the confidence and tools they need to grasp onto the new life that He-who-must-not-be-named's demise has promised us. No longer will we fear what's next to come, but hold onto our past while taking on our future. Keeping traditions and beginning new ones, my friends, is what the Bewitched Times is all about. Allowing ourselves to heal and be healed as well as consider our mistakes and learn from them. No longer shall wizard and magical creatures live alongside each other in disharmony. We must learn to love our fellows as our own, for only then will we truly find a common peace amongst our world."
Empowered by the new "wave into the next era of magic," the magical community had celebrated its newest novelty. Bewitched Times became a household commodity, alongside the Daily Prophet, and with Ginny Weasley as his top journalist, Colin couldn't have asked for a better staff of dedicated workers whose job it was to feature new, exciting ways to enjoy the magic they all possessed. They began by funding the restoration of the Ministry of Magic to its previous glory and more.
The Fountain of Magical Brethren was rebuilt in pure gold and set on display in the lobby once more, now twice the size of its predecessor. And, most symbolically, the centaur, goblin, and house-elf were no longer gazing up at the wizard and witch with awe and reverence; their marble eyes were pointed off into the horizon. Witch and wizard as well both gazed off at the same point as if the future of their world lay just beyond the front doors of the ministry.
"Ginny…come on. We're about to start the ceremony." Hermione interrupted Ginny's thoughts for the second or third time that day and Ginny shook her head gently. The queue of bridesmaids was lining up at the door, with little Annabelle leading the way.
Ginny peered over her shoulder and spotted the ever-calm bride standing beside her father. She looked totally at ease, and Ginny snickered to think of her brother quaking in his new suit with anxiety beneath a trellis decked out in white lilies and giddy gold fairies. Smiling, she walked over quickly and gave Luna a warm hug for good luck.
"Doing all right there?" She asked genially. Luna nodded complacently.
"I'm more worried about Ronald, actually. I haven't seen him this nervous since he proposed. It took three waiters to resuscitate him after I said yes."
Ginny chortled having re-enacted the scene at many family get-togethers just to spite her dear brother.
"Can't tell you how glad I am to finally have a sister who's, hopefully, not going to reproduce any more boys that have inherited their Uncles' flair for juvenile delinquency."
Luna smiled softly, her eyes glazing over in what Ginny mistakenly presumed to be tears of happiness. She expected Luna to then say something like "You're the best sister I ever could have wished for!" or "I can't believe I'm about to marry Ronald Weasley!" but in true Luna fashion, she nodded and said, "Just think, Gin. What if the Gobble Gunders had gotten into the plumbing today! We wouldn't be having a wedding at all, given the contamination-"
"Right then! Everyone queued up and ready to go?" Mrs. Weasley popped her head in for a moment and gave them a watery smile. She'd no doubt been to see her ickle Ronniekins down the aisle before wishing the bride-to-be good luck.
"You look stunning, my dear," She said and wrapped Luna in a warm hug. Looking slightly as if receiving this many hugs in one day had never occurred to her, Luna patted her back gently and smiled when Mrs. Weasley finally released her.
"Right…well…off I go!" Mrs. Weasley waved and dashed back down the corridor.
And so they marched, little Annabelle leading the way as she merrily tossed white rose petals in her wake. As Ginny took her place beside Hermione at the altar, she beamed at her brother with love and pride. He gave her a wink, then the music began and his nerves seemed to slide off of him like water as Luna appeared like a shiny, white angel at the end of the aisle. Her arm was tucked into her father's and he beamed at the smiling guests as if he'd been waiting his entire life for this moment-and, Ginny thought, he probably had.
Fairies lit up the sky around them as dusk settled across the lake. Ginny listened to their vows with a lump in her throat and tears welling up in her eyes. Yes…this was what all that fighting had been for, she thought. This moment right before her, where her best friend and brother now stood, citing their love for each other and sealing it with a kiss.
As Ron and Luna embraced and cheers exploded around them, she cast her gaze over to the best man. Harry's eyes were shimmering as he watched his best mate become the happiest man alive. And she knew, too, that he was thinking the same thing she was. That it had all been worth it, all for happiness, all for love.
Hermione nudged Ginny to begin to follow the recession, and she did so, tucking her arm into Harry's as they went. Hermione was giggling at something Fred said into her ear, and Gabrielle looked particularly flushed when George bowed to her and tried to get her to waltz with him down the aisle.
Ginny sighed to herself. This was what she wanted one day, this happiness, this love. She knew it surely wasn't going to come in the form of any more Jeff-something-or-the-other's, but in her gut, she felt it coming soon.
Harry helped her into the white carriage that was to carry them into the sky and over the Lovegood's expansive estate before landing in the heart of their private botanical gardens where the reception was being held. In her seat, Ginny gazed out at the sun-kissed waters and leaned her head into the wind, watching doves soar overhead on the back of the wind.
Something stirred inside of her chest, and she felt as free as she ever had in her life. The carriage glided over green pastures and she could see the gardens in the distance, already teaming with mingling guests who were taking advantage of the fully stocked bar and buffet-style banquet.
Something, she thought, was definitely about to change in her life.
"What're you looking so cheery about?" Harry smiled at her bemusedly, and loosened his white bow tie until it draped open on his collar.
She turned in her seat and looked seriously into his eyes.
"Well, to be honest, I'm not sure exactly…but it's like something big is about to happen, Harry. D'you know what I mean? When you just…I don't know....feel it inside? "
"Has someone been channeling the spirit of the great Sybil Trelawney?" He chuckled softly. Ginny rolled her eyes at him and took to watching the scenery.
Harry's laughter stopped and he dropped her gaze and turned towards the other end of the massive carriage. Hermione was sandwiched between Gabrielle and George, trying to keep him from annoying the flustered Parisian any further. A flicker of something shot through his eyes, and Ginny smiled.
"Something big, it seems, is about to happen for the both of us."
-->