[She hopes he will never ask why or how she knows. She hopes he doesn't want to ask it because she is a good liar, but she cannot lie to her brother about his own death. She doesn't want to tell him that he was the one who told her, he was the one who dropped into the City and announced his arrival and his death all in one breath for the whole network to hear. She doesn't want him to know that she wasn't the only one who heard it, but Ron too, and they had to hide their grief from their brother behind locked doors because they didn't want to make it worse. She's known nearly as long as she's been in the City. It's something she's carried with her for two years and it was bad enough, worrying that one day she might return home and finally live that tragedy so it would be real in both worlds for her - but curses made her revisit the fears, too.
Walking through a nightmarish joke shop, hearing her brother's voice calling out to her, finding an Inferi wearing his face—
Ginny squeezes her eyes shut at the kiss to her forehead, something that none of her brothers ever did after she grew up, something that was too sweet, and personal, and vulnerable—and Fred just did it, because words aren't enough for this, and Merlin's beard, she swore she wouldn't cry because she's known for ages but this is so much worse than the first time. She draws in a quick, silent breath, holds it, lets it out, tightens her hug around her brother.]
Too bloody right I will be.
[Her words are the opposite of their meaning, but this is how she speaks to her brothers sometimes, and this is how they speak to her. And today, the meaning is simple and clear: never. What she's thinking is still tightly bottled up. She'll never be sick of you, Fred Weasley, so how could you leave her and the rest of the family behind? How could you?
Ginny disentangles herself from Fred when the kettle's whistle cuts through the air, and the moment is broken as she quickly scrubs at her eyes with the back of her hand, clears her throat, goes about making that long-forgotten tea. Her cheeks might be a little flushed and her eyes might be a little too bright, but she's holding it together as best she can.]
he's there for you when he shouldn't be but he stays all the same;
Walking through a nightmarish joke shop, hearing her brother's voice calling out to her, finding an Inferi wearing his face—
Ginny squeezes her eyes shut at the kiss to her forehead, something that none of her brothers ever did after she grew up, something that was too sweet, and personal, and vulnerable—and Fred just did it, because words aren't enough for this, and Merlin's beard, she swore she wouldn't cry because she's known for ages but this is so much worse than the first time. She draws in a quick, silent breath, holds it, lets it out, tightens her hug around her brother.]
Too bloody right I will be.
[Her words are the opposite of their meaning, but this is how she speaks to her brothers sometimes, and this is how they speak to her. And today, the meaning is simple and clear: never. What she's thinking is still tightly bottled up. She'll never be sick of you, Fred Weasley, so how could you leave her and the rest of the family behind? How could you?
Ginny disentangles herself from Fred when the kettle's whistle cuts through the air, and the moment is broken as she quickly scrubs at her eyes with the back of her hand, clears her throat, goes about making that long-forgotten tea. Her cheeks might be a little flushed and her eyes might be a little too bright, but she's holding it together as best she can.]