Ginny Weasley (littleginny) wrote in attheclose, @ 2011-02-28 17:03:00 |
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Entry tags: | character: george weasley, character: ginny weasley, etc: backstory, location: other england - residence |
Who: Ginny Weasley, George Weasley
What: Ginny tries to comfort, and is not that good at it.
When: BACKDATED, Sep. 1997, Harry's birthday.
Where: The Burrow
Rating: T.B.D., likely low.
Ginny had been terrified. She'd been frightened for her brothers, for her friends, for Harry, who hung in the nebulous space between "friend" and "would be more than a friend if there wasn't a sodding war and he wasn't The Boy Who Lived", and for everyone else. Terror wasn't something Ginny was unfamiliar with, but it was an emotion she hated, and she'd tried to shove it aside in favor of being really brassed that, again, she was the one left at home, with her mum, while everyone else went out and almost got themselves killed.
GInny loved her mother dearly, even if they did butt heads often, but she didn't understand how Molly did this. How could she be the one staying home, making tea and hoping people came home safe? It drove Ginny starkers, every time it had to happen, and if she could have been out there with everyone else, she'd have been there in a heartbeat. Some people had to stay behind, to keep people in the same loop, to help heal if they got hurt - Ginny knew all that. It was important. But it wasn't her. It wasn't a role she was built for, and she chafed at being too young to be out with everyone else.
She'd taken to alternating between pacing and digging through the cupboards in search of biscuits she didn't actually want when the first team missed their Portkey. Ginny swore, biting her lip when she realized Molly had heard. Her mum wasn't paying attention though, just as worried as Ginny was.
FINALLY, they started to make it in. Seeing Harry safe, even hearing what had happened, was a relief. Of all the scenarios she'd been imagining though - somehow one of the twins being hurt hadn't entered her mind. They were. . . well, Fred and George. They'd managed to blow up, break, or in some other way destroy so many things over the years that they'd sort of become indestructible in her eyes.
The sight of George, deathly pale and missing an ear, easily distinguished from Fred for the first time in their lives, was sobering, and it took a moment for Ginny to get past the shock to jump to her mother's aid.
Molly did most of the work, and it was clear from George's bad jokes that he was going to be fine. Just earless. She heard the story in bits and pieces in between tending George, and by the time Molly had left the room, leaving George in her care for the moment, Ginny mostly knew what had happened. Moody and Hedwig gone. It was miserable, but in a way it was a relief. It could have been so much worse. George's close call proved that.
Ginny wanted to hug the breath out of George. And she wanted to smack him over the head with a beater bat a bit, for getting hurt. She bent to look at the space where his ear had been again. "Stop FIDGETING," she ordered gruffly. If Ginny had inherited Molly's nagging, smothering caretaker instincts, they had yet to actually make an appearance. "Does it hurt still?"