The Day After Tomorrow

A DREAMER'S NIGHTMARE

22 - A DREAMER'S NIGHTMARE

THEY would have been eating Christmas dinner, thought Ginny. The table spread and almost overflowing with food her mother had prepared. Molly Weasley would have been stood, wooden spoon in her hand watching with irritated but adoring eyes as her husband butchered the meal she'd spent so long lovingly preparing.

Her father would have been stood at the head of the long table, a massive knife in hand, struggling to carve out a piece of turkey, his red brows furrowed in concentration as he ignored the noise of the house and Harry would have been sat beside her, laughing. His hand a comforting pressure against hers beneath the table cloth because even though everyone knew they were an item, she couldn't be bothered to do it in public for the fuss her brothers would make.

The house would be overflowing with noise and light and there would be no privacy, but that's why she loved it so much, because it was so full. Full of people, full of life, full of love. And she could imagine it all so easily; Ron getting scolded for having five mince pies too many, Percy all indignant and polite to the point of being pretentious, reaching for a second helping of mashed potatoes because they were his favourite, Charles back from Romania with scratches and claw marks across his fingers but still grinning over a goblet of fire whiskey, Will and Fleur adorably in love and George without Fred.

She felt her imagination hiccup and tried to gulp against the dryness of her throat.

They'd probably saved his spot for him, that seat with the crooked leg but that was also the closest spot to the dessert.

Ginny couldn't help but wonder if they'd save a seat for her. That one in the middle, across from her mum's and beside Fleur's where she could be part of everyone's conversation and see everything. From the gloss of the apple pie, the heaps of salad, the crispy turkey, the creamy mashed potatoes and even reach over to the stacks of pies.

A rattle of bars drew her from her day dreams, and it was like someone had blown out the Christmas candles from her memories and left her in darkness.

It was a stark reminder that she was there, locked up in one of the many cells beneath the ministry, it wasn't quite Azkaban with its deathly dementors but it felt just as isolated, just as lonely. She could still hear her lawyer's voice echoing in her head, the clipped business like tone he'd used when he'd told her. "So Miss Weasley, I think it advisable that you prepare yourself for an extended period of detention."

Ginny remembered scoffing at him, a harsh sound pushing out her throat like a laugh. "You can't be serious."

The lawyer had given her a terse look. "I suggest you sit tight; they have nothing on you that you haven't admitted, but they're desperate and you haven't given them anything."

Ginny had scowled, forgetting to be polite in her irritation. She'd given herself in, walked herself up to McGonagall's office and told her everything. She'd told the aurors everything she knew already too. "So I'm here for the ministry's publicity, is that it?"

"Well in simple terms I suppose that's right, they can't just let you out. You still committed a crime Miss Weasley, and our job is to make sure you don't get any extra time added on top of it." His tone was unamused. "Mr Finnegan and Mr Corner face a much harsher sentence, you should consider yourself lucky you aren't in the same boat."

She drew in a burst of cold dry air, her fingers fiddling with the harsh material of her outfit.

It wasn't a prison, they'd been clear in that, it wasn't Azkaban but it wasn't freedom either, it was a horrible space of limbo.