Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Warning: This story will contain self-harm and attempted suicide. Please do not read on if this concerns you.

A/N: I'm back! Well, not really. I'm still on hiatus, but I will pop back every now and then when I feel inspired. Like now. This brand-new multi-chapter is about the Weasley family months after the war. It will likely go from January to August 1999, narrated by our six living siblings. I'm expecting it to be about twenty chapters long, but that might change. And will it be regularly updated? Probably not, because I don't have a lot of time to write fanfiction, but I will do my best. Meanwhile, please enjoy this first chapter - a prelude, of sorts, to let you know how the siblings are faring.

Prelude

Platform Nine And Three-Quarters was warm and misty with the mass of bodies crammed onto it: it was all most people could do to keep a close hold onto their children before sending them on their way. The clock was ticking towards eleven and the crowd was growing ever more deafening.

Ginny had already said her goodbyes – hugs for her father, Ron and Percy that morning before they'd left for work, a kiss for Harry and an emotional embrace for her mother. Now only George was left, and it was George that she clung to, because the worry was too much and what would she be leaving him to?

"You'll be alright?" she asked, trying desperately to see some confirmation in his eyes.

He smiled, an enchantingly charming smile that nonetheless didn't quite fool her. "I'm great," he assured her. "I'll write you twice a week – promise."

Ginny bit her lip, and her brother sighed. "Don't worry about me, Gin-kins," he said, more quietly. "I've been feeling much better since we all came home for Christmas."

He was lying. Ginny knew, and she knew that George had only just managed to keep his mask of happiness together over Christmas, and she knew that somehow nobody else had noticed. She also knew that he was begging her to keep pretending just for a little while longer, and so she reached up to kiss his cheek and smiled.

"I'd better go," she said. "Love you."

"Love you too, little sister," he answered lightly, and he looked better. He really did.

Ginny hugged him one last time and then hurried for the train, jumping inside the doors just as the whistle blew. The train began to slide out of the station and she waved to her brother for as long as she could see him, until at last he faded from view.

The train chugged northwards, carrying Ginny to Hogwarts and friends and a place where she could forget, for a while. George Apparated back to Diagon Alley, where he spent his days smiling for strangers and cried himself to sleep at night.

-W-

"So, Percy," said Minister Shacklebolt, "how would you feel about a little extra responsibility?"

Percy pushed his glasses up his nose and looked up. "I – I'd be honoured, Minister," he said uncertainly, "but what would it entail? Because I can't accept any travelling jobs – I need to spend more time with my family—"

"Rest assured," said Kingsley, "this will not take you out of the country. It's just a bit of paperwork."

"Paperwork," Percy repeated. "I can do paperwork." It was about one of the only things he could do, he added rather bitterly to himself, but the Minister didn't need to know that.

A single sheet of parchment landed on top of his desk. "This is a list of the convicted Death Eaters in Azkaban," the Minister explained. "Of course, they're kept under the highest possible security, but Magical Law Enforcement has decided to stake out their families – both so that we can make some empty threats against them and so that the Aurors can find any collaborators they missed earlier.

"That's where you come in: trawling through Ministry records to find what families these people have. It'll be dull, I'm afraid, but the Aurors are stretched rather too thin at the moment for it."

"Don't worry, Minister," Percy said quietly, staring at the list. "I won't let you down." His attention was hardly on his superior any more, and for a good reason. The Death Eaters had been listed alphabetically by first name. And very near the top was Augustus Rookwood.

-W-

"Charlie?"

Charlie jerked out of his doze to see his older brother's head in his fireplace, watching him intently. "Bill," he said reluctantly.

Bill arched an eyebrow at his tone. "Have somewhere to be, do you?"

"Have something to tell me, do you?" Charlie retorted. He jumped to his feet and glanced out of the window. It was nearing dusk, and a Chinese Fireball's plume of flames shone brilliantly against the dark blue sky.

"Only that—"

"Only that everyone misses me, especially Mum, and it would be nice if I could come home for a while and spend some time catching up," Charlie recited. "Did I get it word for word, or not quite?"

"This isn't a joke," Bill said angrily. "Don't you care about anyone anymore?"

"Stop with the guilt trip, Bill. I've only just been home for Christmas. I'm not coming back."

"Why not?" Bill demanded.

Charlie gaped at him. "What?"

"You heard me." When Charlie said nothing, his brother added, "That was a trick question. I know why."

"Why'd you ask it, then?"

Bill ignored this. "I watched you over Christmas," he said quietly. "You never looked at George. Not once."

Charlie swallowed. As usual, Bill had practically read his mind, because George was the reason why he couldn't even consider going back to the Burrow: George with his bright brown eyes and mischievous smile and brilliant laugh. Fred's eyes and smile and laugh, too.

Bill's blue eyes were ice-cold. "Coward," he said softly, before withdrawing his head from the flames.

-W-

"Ron?" Hermione said tentatively. "Do – do you want to go out for dinner tonight? My Arithmancy course load has lightened up a bit and I thought maybe if you had some time—"

"I don't," Ron said heavily. "Sorry, Hermione. They want us in from nine till twelve tonight, practising Stealth in night conditions."

"Nine till twelve?" she repeated indignantly, putting her armload of books down on a table. "This is harassment! They can't ask for you outside normal working hours!"

"Nothing's harassment when you're an Auror," Ron replied. "In a few months they'll be testing our reactions under Cruciatus and Imperius."

Hermione shivered. "That's just wrong," she said.

Ron shrugged. "It's training."

"Well," she said, her smile determined but brittle, "I'd better get back home. Mum and Dad will be worrying. See you around, Ron."

Before he could reply she'd gone, Apparating away from his flat and back to her parents' home. Ron stared after her. See you around? She really was upset. He turned dejectedly back into the hallway, wondering if there was anything Auror training wouldn't take away from him.

-W-

Molly Weasley paused in her washing up and gazed out of the window at her children milling around outside. Bill was noticeably ignoring his wife, instead standing with Percy in the corner of the garden. Molly had noticed that Bill and Fleur had barely said a word to each other during the ritual Sunday lunch, and wondered not for the first time if their marriage was going through a rocky time.

Charlie wasn't there, of course: he was avoiding England, avoiding his family, and Molly quickly moved on before the pain in her heart became too pronounced.

Percy was angry. Not with Bill, not with any of them, but in his eyes and posture there simmered a subdued rage. He was angry at the world for what had happened and it was the kind of anger that needed an outlet. Somehow, Molly feared more for him now than she had for all the long years he had been away.

Fred—

George seemed happy. He laughed and joked as he had at Christmas, and his smile seemed easy and natural. But Molly wasn't sure. It was... too soon. Either he was remarkably strong, or he was pretending. He had always been a good liar.

Ron was talking with Hermione. As Molly watched, he laughed and raised his glass to her, but his smile was rather strained. He was under too much pressure, harried by the fast pace of Auror training and unable to find the time to grieve, and to heal. Hermione, Molly knew, was as patient as a girl could be, but sooner or later she too would complain about the Saturday nights Ron spent frantically studying and the constant hours training at the Ministry.

Ginny, being of age, was allowed to leave school on weekends, and so she was chatting with Harry in the middle of the chaos. She seemed at ease, but Molly had never before seen her fidget and now she was fiddling with a strand of hair, plaiting it and then tugging it loose again. Her smile dropped for a moment and Molly saw how her mouth slipped into a downwards curve as if it were a natural position. Ginny was unhappy – she worried about George and she missed Fred more than most.

Six children, Molly thought. Six living children and one dead and nothing she could do for any of them. They were stressed or sad or utterly broken, all of them, and their mother could not fix this pain. She could only watch and wait.

Because, Molly knew, one of them would snap soon. It was just a question of who.

I hope you enjoyed the first chapter, and please do review! The next chapter will be called Colourless and follows George through a typical day at work.

~Butterfly