"She's been in there for days," George whispered to Fred and Ron from where they were huddled in a corner of the living room at The Burrow.

"We could always ask her to play Quidditch?" Fred offered.

Ron winced.

"What?" Fred asked, looking at him.

"Well, last Quidditch game was when Harry snogged her."

"Ah," George said, frowning slightly.

"Yeah, maybe not," Fred grimaced.

"Well we need to do something. She can't sit in her room all summer. Mum's already going spare!" George muttered.

"Why don't you try talking to her?" Bill spoke up from the opposite end of the room, not looking up from the newspaper. They hadn't realised he had been listening.

"What? Like you have, you mean?" Fred scoffed.

"She threw me out," Bill sighed, looking up at them.

"See, a useless idea!" George told him.

"Go back to picking napkins, dear brother," Fred simpered.

Bill scowled and turned back to the Daily Prophet.

"Well, I'm going to play," George said, standing up, "Want to keep, Ron?"

"Yeah, I'll go get my gloves!"

The twins left the living room and headed out to the broom shed, while Ron took to the stairs, certain his keeping gloves were still in his trunk. He paused outside the white door on the first landing, hesitating for only a moment before decidedly knocking.

Ginny hadn't moved for hours. She was still laid on her bed staring, quite unseeingly, at the window. Her face was sore from the sheer number of tears that had burned tracks down her cheeks, her stomach was still twisting in intricate knots, making her feel extremely nauseous, and her chest felt oddly hollow, as though something important was missing.

So, this was a broken heart, was it?

It sucked.

It had been easier at first; she had just been angry at everyone and everything. She yelled and seethed and threw things to her hearts content. It was brilliant for a while, people managed to take the hint quickly and leave her alone. That temper had to stop though after almost decapitating poor Demelza Robbins with a poorly aimed textbook, as she entered the fifth- year girl's dormitory, at the end of term.

Unfortunately, she had permanently lost her angry resolve at Kings Cross. Harry had come over to say goodbye to her family. Having made his way through them all, he had turned to her last where she had looked into his terribly sad green eyes that told her so much more than his words ever could, and she felt the anger dissipate away, leaving her with what could only be likened to grief, mourning the loss of their relationship.

In the present, someone knocked on her bedroom door and she felt a stab of annoyance at whoever had decided to interrupt her wallowing in self-pity. Maybe if she ignored it, then they would go away…

Wishful thinking in this family.

The impertinent visitor knocked again.

Whoever is was knew her very well. By not declaring themselves, they had spiked her curiosity. By the time they knocked the third time, Ginny was out of bed and marching over to the door.

"What?" She snapped through the wooden barrier.

Nothing. Just another knock.

Sighing, she opened it, ready to tell whoever it was to clear off.

Ron stood on the other side, grinning sheepishly at her.

Ginny looked a mess. She definitely hadn't brushed her hair in a few days, so it now resembled a bird's nest. Her face was red and blotchy, reminding him of Hermione in first year when they had found her in the girl's toilets, with a mountain troll baring down at her. She had spilled some form of chocolate down her pyjama front too, though she didn't seem all that concerned about it.

"What?" Ginny repeated.

"We were wondering if you fancied a game of Quidditch?" he pushed past her into the room, so she couldn't close the door in his face.

"Who?"

"Me, Fred and George."

"You mean your teams aren't even and you need me to make up the numbers?" she folded her arms across her chest and scowled.

"No," he had to tread carefully, she was itching to lash out, he could feel the tension radiating off her in waves, "We want you to play. You're the best out of all of us!"

Ginny blinked at him for a moment, and then did the unthinkable.

She burst into tears.

Horrified, Ron did the only thing he could think of; he shuffled forwards and hugged her, awkwardly patting her back and somehow managing to accidentally pull her knotted hair at the same time.
"Shh!" he told her, wildly hoping this was the right thing to say.

"Why did he do it, Ron?" she sobbed into him.

"Huh?"

"Why did he ditch me?"

Dread filled Ron. He wasn't expecting this, he wasn't prepared. Hermione had told him to be there for her but she hadn't really gone into specifics. What if he said the wrong thing? What if he made it worse?

He looked down at his baby sister, sobbing in his arms and he felt something stir inside him. A lion; a fierce, protective cat shook out its mane and he suddenly had the surprisingly overwhelming urge to rip his best mate limb from limb.

"Because he's a bloody idiot, that's why!" Ron stated, hugging his sister tighter. Her arms squeezed him gratefully in return.

Ginny wasn't particularly a crier. With six older brothers, she had built up a pretty tough exterior. One time she had fallen off the shed roof, after following Fred and George up there, and broken her arm. Even then there had been no tears, just a few choice curse words that she had been scalded for after mum had reset the bones. Ginny must have been in a lot of pain right now to warrant this reaction. There was only one thing for it; protect Ginny, at all costs.

"Should- Should I tell them not to bring him?" Ron gulped. It would infuriate the Order, and probably the rest of the family but right now, the fight against You-Know-Who was not important, as long as Ginny was happy.

She pulled back slightly and gazed up at him with wide eyes through thick, water logged eyelashes.

"You'd do that for me?" Her voice was barely more than a whisper.

"Of course," Ron told her, "You live here, it's your home. I'll just go and tell mum they'll have to think of-" he started to pull away and head for the door but Ginny gripped him tighter.

"No, he has to come," she said "It's not safe for him anywhere else."

Typical Ginny. Everyone else first.

"Only if you're sure," he told her.

"I am." And she sounded certain. She released Ron and wiped her face on her sleeves.

"Look at me," she half smiled, "I look like such a girl!"

Ron chuckled and grinned affectionately at her, "Gross!"

"Thank you though," she said, seriously, "The fact that you would – Well, it means a lot."

"It's alright," He said. He shuffled his feet, unsure if what he was thinking would be beneficial to his sister. She seemed to sense his unease.

"What is it?" She asked.

"It's just, well," he fiddled with the top of his ear, which was starting to heat up, "Harry. I don't think he wanted to do it, you know?"

"I do know," she sighed, "he said he had to. I know he's going after him, and I know this is to 'protect me'" she used air quotes and rolled her eyes, "Still, it doesn't make it any less rubbish."

"He'll beat this, Gin" Ron told her, "and I'll bring him back here myself, I promise."

He turned for the door, beginning to feel uncomfortable with all the emotion in the room.

"Ron?"

He turned back to see his sister smiling broadly at him.

"Quidditch would be great!"