As The World Spins Madly On

Chapter 1

The Weasleys were not known for being the most traditional pureblood family.

For a time, such a thing was tolerated, if not totally accepted. There were rumors of just who was to fault for this sudden change, but placing blame did little good as the family itself did not seem to care. Still, the pureblood elite held hope that this phase would pass quickly and soon be forgotten. However, as centuries passed, each new generation seemed to step further from their roots, their eccentricities increasing until finally they seemed to have abandoned wizarding social protocol altogether. With this, came the permanent fall from grace from their peers. As such, the once honored name of the purebloods Weasley became a label- a category of its own. Definitely too magical to be muggle and too knowledable of the workings of magical society to be muggleborn, but no longer in the same class as purebreeds.

Simply, they were just the Weasleys.

So it would have come as a jarring shock to all that had shunned them, that the Weasleys had indeed maintained a few cherished pureblood customs through the generations. The most beloved tradition of the family in question was passing down their ancestors stories, a way to span centuries and connect the newer members of the family to those that had come before. Some tales were full of wisdom, others of woe, even more of adventure and to the delight of many children over the years, there were plenty overflowing with mischief.

With all the fascinating stories to choose from, there was one in particular that seemed to dim in comparison. Never requested and easily forgotten by the many sons that the Weasleys seemed destined to have. Still, the tale withstood the test of time, possibly only because each and every new bride to join the family found the tale to be full of romance and uplifting in a way that men would never quite grasp.

This was a most fortunate occurrence, especially when after centuries of waiting, the unthinkable happened and the Weasley blood finally produced a daughter.

A mere infant, not yet old enough to understand the words, but soothed by the sweet voice washing over her as she was held lovingly in her mother's arms, Ginny Weasley heard her first ever story of her ancestors.

As the story goes, Ginny's great, great, with possibly a few more greats, grandmother, Althania Praggert, fresh off the heels of a broken heart and overcome with despair at one too many disappointments in her short life had finally had enough. Taking matters into her own hands, the young woman snuck out of her upper class home in the middle of the night and after scouring the shadiest of wizarding England had found the answer to her problems. She traveled across seas and deserts in a daring adventure that involved sword fights and pirates- such details tended to alter with each story teller, exaggerated in an attempt to entrance the restless sons listening. Molly herself favored adding in a yarn about a stubborn camel that liked to spit- something that never failed to make her sons crow with delight. However, through the span of time, the main fabric of the tale had always stayed true to itself. Determined and headstrong, Althania had sought out a powerful wizard known for his old and unique type of magic. In a faraway land, the stubborn woman poured her sorrows out to the elderly wizard and pleaded with him to help her find a love that was true and made just for her. Swayed by her heartfelt request, the powerful wizard created a device and sent her away with the promise that it would lead her to her heart's desire. Within two months of returning to England, Althania Praggert became a Weasley. Old and faded pictures in antique albums tucked away in their attic spoke of a mission accomplished; a life filled with love and happiness.

Captivated just as the other women in her family before her, it became Ginny's favorite bedtime story. With each telling, she would be swept up in the adventure and most of all the romance that followed. Sometimes, she would fall asleep with visions dancing through her head of following the same footsteps of the brave Althania and try to imagine the wizard that was her perfect match.

Only a few short years later, the hazy image of her dream wizard soon morphed into a precise picture of Harry Potter. For Ginny was sure, in her 10 year old heart that he was the boy she was meant for. With her new found love, her most requested story was pushed aside for a newer, more exciting one of her own making. One that involved somehow winning the heart of the boy who lived. Surely, her young heart knew, that someday he would see that they were supposed to be together. It was a conviction that lasted through her time at Hogwarts, weathering a brutal war and after the rebuilding of a society. It matured and strengthened with each new milestone; graduating, moving into her own place, embarking on a career. Until finally the day she had waited so long for arrived. As Harry Potter slid a diamond ring onto her finger, Ginny Weasley knew that her oldest dream had at last come true.

Not for the first time, Ginny wondered if it was physically possible to die of heartache. Walking quickly around a group of her brothers children, Ginny continued to present the brittle and rather painful smile to any and all that dared look in her direction. Which was basically everyone in attendance at the Burrow. Her damn family didn't even have the decency to let her wallow in her own misery or at the very least play along with her one woman act of everything is fine, why wouldn't it be? Bastards instead all sent her pitying smiles and gave supportive shoulder squeezes.

Yes, she knew they were all aware that her strained smile was fake, but would it hurt for them to pretend that it wasn't holding in a tidal wave of heartbroken sobs. Was that too much to ask for? Apparently not, as Hermione and Fluer glanced in her direction, frowns marring their pretty faces. When both women looked as though they were preparing to head in her direction, Ginny suddenly made a quick turn to her left and circumvented a picnic table of brothers- each looking awkward as they watched her progress with sad eyes.

Honestly, Ginny didn't even know why they bothered with the cover of such a wonderful spring day for a picnic!- her mother's words, not hers- if they weren't even going to hide their true motives of checking up on her.

Having finally made it upstairs, Ginny stormed into the nearest room and despite the visceral need to slam the door shut, gently clicked it closed as to not alert anyone of her whereabouts. No doubt if she made even the slightest of bangs, the entire family would be upon her in an instant to offer hugs and words of sympathy.

One would think that someone had died the way the lot of them were carrying on.

She knew she was being ungrateful. Her family was being wonderful and supportive and absolutely perfect.

They had handled the entire situation with surprising grace. The biggest problem was that Ginny herself wasn't. She wanted to scream and set things on fire, then cry for a few days while drinking herself silly, and then promptly repeat the cycle. Sadly, no one seemed willing to let her handle things her way.

Her sister in laws and mother insisted on increased family get togethers and had most definitely set up some sort of system where Ginny was never actually alone- beyond her time at work- for more than a few hours at a time. Her brothers and father, all rather lost in this emotional minefield, had regressed into cajoling her out for sweet treats and games as if she were a child.

Not one member of her well meaning family seemed to realize that she just needed time and space- no matter that she said those exact same words more than a few times.

It was hard enough trying not to shatter all on her own, but with the added weight of her family to the mix, Ginny didn't know how much longer she could go on pretending that her entire world hadn't suddenly tilted upside down without warning.

Maybe that was the worst part of it, Ginny thinks. If she had some sort of warning, maybe she could have done something. Stopped it or even just prepared herself for the blow that was about to come. Instead, silly and oblivious Ginny had been happily parading through her seemingly perfect world.

Unwelcome tears slid down her face as she recalled that night seven months ago. She had been so excited when Harry had insisted on a night just the two of them. He had even left work early for a change! A sob escaped her throat at the memory of how Harry had delicately steered her to the couch, his eyes lacking their usual sparkle. She hadn't noticed at the time, instead excitedly telling him of the progress of their wedding plans. She had been inanely asking his opinion over white roses versus pink when he had finally seemed to gain his courage.

If he hadn't been so gentle about the entire thing or been so sincere in his agony at breaking her heart, then maybe it would have been easier. She could have cursed him and all the love she had felt towards him could fester into hatred. Instead, he had been his usual sweet and considerate self as he shattered her world and left her in ruins.

Breaths coming out in uneven gasps, Ginny shook her head from the memories of her actions after. With more time that passed, she didn't want to think of just how low she had sunk that night. Or the days after.

The sound of her brothers voices carried along the hallway, moving closer and in a sudden panic, Ginny scrubbed at the waterfall of tears falling down her face and looked around the room for an escape. Her eyes caught the small door partially hidden away behind curtains. Without hesitation, Ginny silently opened the door and crept up the stairs to the attic. While not a fan of the dusty and dangerously over stuffed space, Ginny found she was desperate enough to overlook its faults.

There was no way she could face any of her family now. Not when she was trying so hard to prove that she was ok. If she saw any of them in such a raw state, there would be no hope of maintaining any semblance of composure.

It physically hurt to look at her family and remember all the years Harry had been such an integral part of it all. Even before they were together he had been a part of their lives, and now, it was as if he was living a life totally separate. Actually, Ginny mused morosely, that's exactly what he was doing, wasn't it? He had moved out, and while she knew he still kept in touch with her family, he had thoughtfully extricated himself from anything she would be likely to attend.

Which was a shame since his attendance would have been the perfect excuse to avoid coming. Then maybe she wouldn't be climbing over dusty trunks and narrowly avoiding a coat rack that was aggressively taking swings at her.

With a sigh, Ginny plopped down onto a nearby sofa, letting out a cough at the dust that spread around her in a cloud. If only Harry could see just how pathetic she was at this moment, he surely would have been relieved to have escaped her.

No, that was unfair. Knowing Harry, he would have felt so guilty he would have insisted on talking to her in a pointless attempt to make her feel better. But Harry wasn't here. And that was the problem, wasn't it?

Instead, Harry was on a tropical beach somewhere with his new wife.

Just the thought sent a pain through Ginny's chest. Oh how it hurt to think that it had taken him almost six years to propose to her, but only two months to marry someone else. Why was that? What was it that Ginny was lacking that this other woman seemed to have?

Didn't their six years mean anything? And the years before that when they were friends? Why not Ginny, when she had been so devoted to him? Why wasn't she good enough?

These questions lingered under her skin, an itch that was impossible to scratch away. The only person that held the answers was Harry, and it's not like she could have asked him.

Oh, she certainly had the opportunity though when Harry had called her only last week to warn her of the sudden elopement. Of course he hadn't wanted her to be blindsided. The same way he had called to warn her two months ago when he was going on a blind date. She still remembered the guilt and comfort rolled into one during that brief and stilted conversation. As if he was trying to reassure her that it wouldn't go anywhere. How wrong he had been. One blind date had turned into a second date and then suddenly they were all over the papers, the blissfully happy couple. The papers had loved taking unflattering pictures of Ginny and splashing them alongside the radiant pair. How they had gleefully declared her the sorry loser of this break up. Just when the gossip seemed to become stale and the headlines were tapering off, the papers had new fodder with the surprise wedding.

It wasn't fair at all, Ginny thinks. After months, she had begun to find a sense of balance again. While undoubtedly a mess, Ginny had been starting to slowly piece herself back together again. She had finally remembered how to smile once more, small tentative ones, but they were real and didn't hurt nearly as much as they had a few months before. And she was starting to joke and find joy with her friends and at work once more. No longer just going through the motions. Just as Ginny was starting to feel like she was going to be ok one day, the rug was pulled out from under her again and it felt like the first few weeks after the break up all over again.

With a dejected sigh, Ginny dropped her head back against the couch and let out a squeal when the entire thing began to fold in on itself, crushing her in the process. Clawing at the material, Ginny pushed up from the arm rests with all her strength and kicked the chair. Apparently put out with her refusal to be crushed to death, the couch gave a mighty heave and propelled her into the nearest set of trunks.

Upon impact, they toppled over and Ginny covered her head from the avalanche of things falling down around her. When it appeared safe, she poked her head out of the safety of her arms and glanced at the junk surrounding her. Rather ancient robes surrounded her as well as old shoes and journals. Frustrated, Ginny tossed one of the shoes away from her, sitting up straight as something shiny slipped from it and spun around on the ground. Grabbing the object in question, she frowned at the metal object. It almost looked like a pocket watch, only it didn't have an opening and was far too thin.

Studying it from all angles, Ginny squinted at the delicate engraving of flowers around the trim, wondering just what it was supposed to do. For there was no doubt that this object had a purpose. Magic seemed to thrum from it into her fingertips, making them tingle in anticipation.

"Gin Gin?" Charlie's voice carried up the stairs and Ginny couldn't contain her cringe. That was another thing that had made a reappearance in the last few months. Ginny honestly wasn't sure why. Were her childhood nick names supposed to be reassuring in some way?

Without a second thought, Ginny pocketed the mysterious device and took a deep breath. It appeared her small reprieve was over and she had been summoned back to the concerned supervision of her family.