Waldosia/// George Weasley

Chapter 14

It was the last thing she needed to be stopped on the stairs with George clasping at her arm, trapping her in her spot. Clover shut her eyes and winced, refusing to look at the hand pulling at her gently. All she had wanted to do was politely eat dinner and then escape into Bill's room; she didn't want to think about why she was living at the Burrow, she didn't want to explain how exactly she had gotten to the point she was at, she didn't want anything to do with her past and the pity that came along with it. But she would have to now, it was only fair that George knew why she was living with his family. Dread filled her body and anxiety threatened what little peace was left in her brain. If I tell him that I was homeless, he'll ask why. He'll know everything...he can't know everything...he-

"You're going up so soon?"

The gods that she had never believed in were mocking her, making her all riled up for nothing. Or maybe she was doing that to herself. It didn't matter though, because a calmness passed over her. It wasn't George, it was Ginny.

Clover slowly turned around and let out a sigh of relief. Okay, this is easy. I'll just tell her I'm tired and that I want to get some rest-

Fuck.

As soon as Clover's eyes landed on Ginny's, she knew she wouldn't be going to her room. The blonde knew that look better than she knew herself, one of anxiety and overwhelming thoughts buzzing around her head.

The ginger girl shifted uncomfortably on her feet and dropped Clover's arm from her hold, looking down sheepishly, "I-I'm sorry, you look tired. I shouldn't have bothered you, it's just that you never go to sleep this early and I...well I-I...,"

She trailed off, but Clover already knew what she meant. The older girl sent Ginny a small, sad, knowing smile and grabbed her hand as Ginny looked up at her. She guided her over to the empty living room and sat them both down on the couch.

Ginny took a deep breath and sighed, knowing there was no use in beating around the bush, "Being alone with my thoughts...it's just a lot sometimes. It's like one day the war is a thing of the past, just a memory that I'm taking tiny steps forwards in moving on from. A-and I'm fine, and I truly believe that. But then the next day it's like the war had just happened yesterday. All the blood and death and fear and screams a-and loss...they replay over and over and over again in my head. Like old ghosts coming back to haunt me."

The younger girl looked down at her hands with a wide-eyed and pale look that seemed as if the latter part of what she had said was coming to life. Suddenly, Clover noticed that her tired expression looked more tired, her young face looked even younger, and her lost innocence seemed even more unfair. Ginny was barely an adult and she already had seen the worst the world had to offer. What a sin, Clover thought, a youth so utterly corrupted. And what an even bigger sin, she thought right after, that Ginny wasn't the only one.

Maybe it felt right or maybe it was just muscle memory for her, but Clover found herself acting before thinking about what she was doing. She stood up and walked behind the couch, specifically behind the spot Ginny was sitting in. Her hands gently found their way to Ginny's hair, and Clover let out a shaky breath as she spoke.

"You want to know what my sister and I used to do whenever our nightmares or thoughts got to much for us?" She whispered, smiling sadly at the quick flash of blonde in the ginger hair she was holding.

Ginny silently nodded her head as Clover's hands began to French plait the red hair, "Recovering from wounds, physically or emotionally, is like plaiting hair. You start from scratch, raw and empty with what seems like nothing ahead of you."

She swiftly intersected the three strands of hair on the left side of her head, before copying the actions onto the right, "But as time goes on, you add more layers. You become stronger and progress farther away from where you first started, and soon enough, you will feel complete again."