Hello, beautiful people.

I really have no idea what I'm doing, starting another story, but I've been thinking about this idea a lot and I just had to write it out. Originally, I'd intended to just write this as a long one-shot, but I think I can better do it justice as a multi-chapter fic. I'm thinking it will be about ten chapters long, but we'll see where it goes. I've never written anything like this before, but I think it is something that realistically could happen and it's an interesting perspective to consider. Please give it a read and let me know what you think!

The worst week of Ginny Potter's life began with a familiar head in her fireplace.

Until that point, her day really hadn't been half bad. She'd had practice with the Harpies that morning—a grueling but satisfying workout—and had returned only about an hour ago to shower and make herself some lunch in the form of reheated leftovers from dinner at the Burrow the night before. The house was empty, as it had been for the past few days. Harry was out of the country, on a clandestine mission with a team of fellow Aurors to locate and arrest a trio of escaped underground Death-Eaters they'd tracked to a small town in Belarus—information she was not technically supposed to be privy to—and was not due home for another few days. He'd been on several missions since joining the Auror Office after the war. Most of them had taken place during her final year at Hogwarts, when the majority of Voldemort's followers had been hunted down. Many of these missions Ginny had known little, if anything, about prior to Harry's safe return—a fact she'd taken great issue with at the time, but for which she could only be grateful now. She knew she'd only have worried herself mad if she had.

Only a few covert missions had taken place in the years since those initial busy months, some having lasted far longer than this six-day endeavor. Without school to keep her distracted and ignorant, Ginny had spent a good number of the earliest ones wrought with fear and worry. She'd eventually grown more used to the idea, and now, though she definitely slept better and breathed easier every time Harry was safely back with her again, she was essentially an old pro.

Ginny was in the lounge; her legs sprawled across the empty cushions of the sofa beside her, picking through the remains of the pasty—her mother's recipe—on her plate and skimming halfheartedly through a copy of the Daily Prophet when the Floo flared across the room. She glanced at the fireplace without any real concern. Their Floo was only connected to a few others throughout the wizarding world, the majority of which belonged to her own family, and just because she wasn't expecting anyone didn't mean one of them hadn't decided to drop by uninvited—it was a far more regular occurrence than Ginny would have liked at times. However, the face that appeared in the flames a second later had her setting down the newspaper and her mostly empty plate.

"Kingsley," she greeted the Minister for Magic with a smile, suddenly very grateful she'd bothered to appropriately dress herself after her shower as she crossed the room to kneel before the fire. Kingsley Shackelbolt had grown increasingly busy in the years since the war ended, and though he still remained a family friend and occasionally exchanged owls with the lot of them, it was unusual for him to drop in unannounced. Ginny's interest was peeked, if nothing else, as she lowered herself onto the rug before him. "How are you?"

Her smile vanished quickly upon reaching him. Facial expressions were not always clear over the Floo like this, but close as she was now, she could see the solemn expression on Kingsley's face as he answered, "To tell you the truth, Ginny, I've been better." He didn't pause long before continuing. His next words had her heart stopping dead in her chest. "I need you to come over here. It's important."

He wasn't speaking as the Minister for Magic, or as any figure of authority at all, but as Kingsley, her father's friend and someone who cared.

Harry. This could be about nothing else. Nothing else would be important enough for Kingsley to contact her directly like this and inform her she needed to come to the Ministry right away. Fear wrapped around Ginny's heart so completely at the thought, she couldn't breathe.

Somehow, she managed to nod.

If her feelings were clear on her face, Kingsley didn't comment on it. "I've connected your fireplace directly to my office," was all he said, "Come directly over." And then he was gone.

Ginny stared at the place where his face had been, trying suddenly to remember how to move her body. It took far longer than it should have, and part of her was disgusted with herself for it. She'd fought in a war at sixteen, for Merlin's sake. She'd survived Tom Riddle's diary when she'd been just eleven. She'd co-led the DA during her horrid Sixth Year. She could surely handle this meeting with Kingsley, no matter what he had to say. "Come on, Ginny," she murmured to herself, "You're better than this."

She got to her feet, remnants of her lunch forgotten on the coffee table behind her. She scarcely remembered to slip her bare feet into the trainers still sitting beside the fireplace where she'd left them upon arriving home earlier, before grabbing a small handful of Floo powder from the container atop the mantle and throwing it into the fire. "Office of the Minister for Magic," she forced herself to say, and then stepped into the emerald flame.

Ginny was used to the familiar rush of wind and passing fireplaces within the Floo Network. In seconds, she landed at her desired location and stepped out into the Minister's office deep within the Ministry of Magic. Ginny had been in this office before, but not recently. In the months following the Battle of Hogwarts, many debriefings had been held in here, during which she, along with various other students, informed Kingsley of the details of their year with the Carrows. Other times, she'd come with Harry for moral support as he'd talked with the new Minister about one thing or another as only he could. But it had been years.

Not much seemed to have changed. A few more personal effects could be seen around the spacious room, but the same well-used desk still sat on one side, buried almost entirely with paperwork and various clutter. Kingsley waited for her, stood before that desk with a stoic expression, even as hints of poorly veiled pain flashed in his brown eyes as they met hers. A few feet behind him, Gawain Robards, Head of the Auror Office, stood with his hands clasped before him. Robards had been the wizard who trained Harry to be an Auror, and Ginny had heard no shortage of awful things about the man during those early, arduous weeks of training. But he was a good man and a great Auror, and she knew Harry respected him greatly. Robard's face was devoid of expression, but he too seemed tense and unhappy. He nodded to Ginny in mute greeting and her eyes fell on Kingsley once more.

"What happened?" she asked now, looking between the both of them and wasting no time.

Kingsley took a breath as if steeling himself. "Let's sit down," he said, gesturing to the small seating area set up across the room, likely for meetings such as this. But Kingsley wasn't normally one to dance around the point and Ginny was not anxious for him to do so now.

"Is he alive?" she asked plainly, her voice even. She made no effort to move.

The wizards exchanged glances. It was Robards who answered. "We don't know."

Her heart stood still at the words, but Ginny refused to let herself cry. She allowed no hint of her feelings to cross her face, but Kingsley lifted a comforting hand to her shoulder all the same. "Come on," he said, "Sit down and we'll tell you everything."

She didn't argue now and followed him and Robards across the office. She sat herself down on the waiting sofa. Kingsley sat down beside her and Robards took the large chair across from them. "Explain," Ginny said to the Head Auror the instant they were all seated. He was in charge of all Auror operations, after all. He was the one with the details.

Robards did not hesitate. "As you probably know, one of the main objectives of the Auror Office and MLE since the end of Voldemort's reign has been to track down and capture all remaining Death Eaters, dark wizards, and sympathizers who fled and went into hiding at the war's end. Potter's team has spent weeks tracking one such group led by a dark wizard by the name of Reuben Knox. They were able to pinpoint their location in northern Belarus last week, and as you know, they left four days ago to infiltrate and capture Knox and his cohorts." Ginny nodded her confirmation, waiting for more.

"The team spent three days staking out the inn where the wizards were hiding out under aliases, and planned to infiltrate late last night. Unfortunately, one of the Aurors under Potter's charge is a relatively new recruit. Excellent marks and dueling skills, but apparently not as good under pressure as he let everyone here believe." Robards had the grace to look ashamed. "He panicked in the ensuing firefight; froze up. He was very nearly captured, and by every right, he would have deserved it." Robards paused long enough to take a breath. "From what I understand, Potter knocked the young Auror out of the way and took a stunning spell to the chest himself. Knocked him out cold. Knox and his men had regrouped enough in the distraction to allow them to retreat. The rest of my Aurors were too far away to be of any help to Potter in time. The dark wizards managed to Apparate away with him. The team tracked them for hours, but came up empty-handed. They were forced to return a few hours ago to regroup themselves."

Ginny had sat in silence, listening to Robards speak. Her heart felt like a dead weight in her chest and she was suddenly grateful Kingsley had persuaded her to sit down—she supposed he had experience breaking bad news to family members. Still, she did not cry, did not allow herself to react very much at all. Because if she allowed herself even the tiniest slip, she'd either start weeping or yelling or breaking things, and none of those options was acceptable right now. Not here. Not with the eyes of these wizards on her, waiting for her to do just that.

Harry had been captured by Death-Eaters. After he had single-handedly killed their leader and all but signed his own death warrant for them. He had allowed himself to be jinxed and taken, to save a young Auror's life. Of course he had, the noble git.

It took a second before Ginny trusted herself to speak. "What are you doing about it?" she demanded evenly, "About finding him?"

"I have my best men on it," Robards assured her, "Reinforcements left for Belarus an hour ago, and lines of communication are open between us. If anyone can find Potter, they can." He sounded confident in this at least, but part of Ginny wondered how much stock to really put in that. After all, Robards was the one who had allowed that unprepared novice to company Harry's team into the field in the first place, and that had ended so spectacularly.

But she couldn't think like that; she wouldn't allow herself to. Harry respected Robards. She knew better than most just how much that respect meant. So she had no choice now but to trust him. She bit her bottom lip.

"And what…" she forced herself to ask now, "what are the odds? That he's…" she forced a breath down her throat, "that he's still alive?"

Robards looked grim. "The fact that Knox's men took him at all rather than killing him is a good sign." He said 'good' in a way that made Ginny wonder if it really was. "It wouldn't have been practical for them to go through the trouble of bringing him, only to immediately kill him once they were free of the inn." He seemed to hesitate slightly before continuing, "But it's no secret who Harry is. No amount of interrogation training on his part is going to keep his identity from them. They already know. And, as I'm sure you're aware, desperate, evil men will do anything to get their way."

He didn't need to say it aloud for Ginny to know what he really meant; the part he wouldn't tell her. That just because the dark wizards hadn't killed Harry right then and there, did not mean he wouldn't have been better off if they had. Because he was alive, he was at the mercy of the wizards and their wands. And Ginny knew first-hand how Death Eaters operated. She'd be surprised if they hadn't begun torturing him already.

She couldn't bring herself to reply just then. Suddenly, she needed to be anywhere but that office. She stood up abruptly, looking at Kingsley first. She wasn't sure, in that moment, how well she managed to hide the feelings in her own eyes. "Keep me updated," she requested of him, "Please."

Kingsley nodded. "I will."

She turned to Robards now and, with a breath, set her eyes on him. Her voice when she spoke betrayed nothing. "Find my husband."

She didn't give the Head of the Auror Department time to respond before she'd turned away and strode for the fireplace once more. She felt the eyes on her as she scooped up a handful of the waiting Floo power and threw it into the flames.

Ginny was almost surprised when her feet hit the floor of her own fireplace seconds later. She had certainly not been the pinnacle of eloquence in saying her destination back in Kingsley's office. She didn't consider it long.

She stepped out onto the rug and glanced around the silent house. Everything was how she'd left it. Her abandoned lunch and newspaper still sat on the coffee table where she'd hastily placed them, next to the toy wand Teddy had forgotten over the weekend; her practice bag was still in the hall, its contents waiting to be sorted through and washed; in the kitchen beyond, her wand still sat atop the counter, where she'd forgotten it after reheating her lunch—she hadn't even brought it with her to the Ministry. The whole house was normal and lived-in, evidence of the home she and Harry had built for themselves within. Yet, somehow, the place seemed far emptier than it ever had before.

Numbly, Ginny made her way out of the living room and up the stairs to the bedroom she and Harry shared. She crossed to the large bed in the center and sat on its edge, pulling his pillow toward her. She buried her face in the fabric, inhaling the lingering scent of him. Then, she was yelling. The pillow muffling the sound, Ginny screamed at the unfairness of it all until she was out of breath.

And then, falling sideways on the bed and pulling the pillow with her, Ginny did, finally, cry. Because she had survived a Horcrux at eleven and a war at sixteen, but she had always had Harry. Because even when she hadn't known where he was, she'd known he was alive. She'd had hope; small as it had been at times, that just maybe everything would be okay. Ginny cried because this wasn't supposed to happen anymore. She was not supposed to be left behind, wondering and worrying about the fate of the man she loved. And, Merlin, she did love him—now more than she ever could have imagined back then, and that made it so much worse; made it hurt that much more. Ginny cried because she could do nothing else with the fear and pain and anger that only built inside her the more she thought about Harry, trapped in an unknown location, with dark wizards intent on doing him harm. Harry, who was supposed to be coming home to her, safe and sound as he always did. Harry, who would not be doing so, who might never do so again. And for whom, she could do absolutely nothing—nothing but wait.

So Ginny cried because, in that moment, it was all she could do.

Thanks for reading! As always, feedback is greatly appreciated, and if you have any ideas for future chapters, please let me know.