poly_chromatic

[ video ]

I don't know how to do this.

[It's Ginny voice, but she isn't in the frame. What you see is the living room of Building 12 #915, so thoroughly lived-in, so homey, photographs and cushions and slippers kicked off on the rug. A cat streaks across the floor and out of sight. There's a heavy exhale, shaky on the edges, then the feed cuts out.

When the image comes back, it's her bedroom with an empty suitcase on the bed. To be honest, it may very well remain empty. It's more ceremonial than anything, maybe. But Ginny's now walking in front of the camera, sitting on the edge of the bed, looking down at the floor with her hands curled into the blanket. When she speaks, it's low and steady but the real struggle is in her expression, which is why she'd hiding it for the most part.]

I've tried to go home for years. I've tried and failed for so long that I'm not even sure I can believe that this time'll be different, but it... It feels different, like everyone's—gearing up, packing up. Like the end of the school year. Only it isn't a holiday; we wouldn't be coming back, right? We can't.

I shouldn't want to. I've always said this place was the holiday. But it's... I mean, I couldn't help it after a while, could I, feeling attached? It became home. I hated that it did. Maybe it isn't home, maybe I meant that—that you lot made it home. It's been five years and I don't know how I can go back to a world where our times don't line up or where I've got magic and you haven't or...

[Or you're dead. Or haven't been born yet. Or you just don't exist.]

Bloody hell. [She inhales sharply, tipping her head back, composing herself. She isn't crying. She doesn't cry. But you can see the tightness in her jaw and shoulders, the flush across her cheeks, how determined she is to not look at the camera.] Gone home twice, never left time for goodbyes. Always gave a hard time to my friends who did the same to me. And now here we are and I'm mucking it up completely.

[Ginny falls silent after that, sitting for a long time. Then Sir Weatherby hoots softly off-camera and it shakes her from it, a fleeting smile passing over her lips as she glances over her shoulder at the owl.]

You're coming with me, of course. And the cats and the puffs.

[Finally, finally, Ginny looks at the camera, eyes bright and blazing, voice softer.]

And I know you lot can't. Home's a mess, even coming over to The Burrow for dinner wouldn't make all the rebuilding worth it. But please let me see you before we all head off, because... Well, if this is really it, I want to make sure— [Breathe, Ginny. She smiles.] If we're friends, we're family, too. I never let family off easily.

[ooc; please come say your goodbyes. thank you so, so much poly. it's been an honour and a joy. i love you.]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

I know. And it ain't like we're gonna be able to just forget about each other. I mean, I'm used to losin' people, but...

[He shrugs.]

This is kinda different. I'm gonna know you're somewhere else, in some other universe, where I can't get to you, 'n believe me, I'm gonna be happy you're alive 'n well, but I'm also gonna hate the fact that you're, y'know, halfway around the world 'n decades in the future 'n there'll be no way to talk to you or have you yell at me for fuckin' around with the merchandise when I should be doing inventory.

[That earns a laugh, and then: ] You think we'll remember?

[There's a touch of hopefulness to her voice, the softening in her expression.]

I'd like to. Even if it means it hurts a bit because of all that, what you just said—I'd still like to know this happened. And maybe I'll think it was some mad dream or something, but we're all real, and I reckon we deserve to be able to look back and know that.

I think we'll remember. I think it's different this time.

[Or maybe he's just hoping. Either way...]

I'm gonna go home 'n try to do things differently based on stuff I learned here. If I don't remember it, I can't change, y'know? So I gotta hope we remember.

[She smiles at that, quiet and a bit sad. Then she teases,]

If I don't remember it, there's going to be some awkward questions about the scars I've earned. Just because I got out of a battle a week ago at home doesn't explain everything.

At least there's that. We won't be going back to anything too terrible.

Well, y'know, I was supposed to be goin' home to die, so anything's better'n that, right?

[Oops. Had he not mentioned that before?]

[No, he hasn't. He can probably tell by the shock flitting across her face.]

What?

That was, uh... that was the way my story ended, y'know? To put it bluntly. Go home, get shot.

[He shrugs.]

Think we found a way around that, so don't worry, kiddo. Nobody's gettin' rid of me that easy.

I'm not leaving until I know you're going back to someplace safe, Jimmy.

I am. I'm goin' back home with Al. I mean, we're from the same place, more or less, but we figure...

[Another shrug, more expressive this time.]

We figure that since I'm already dead in his time, nobody'll come lookin' for me if I go back there.

It's the quiet life for you, then.

Well...

[He laughs.]

C'mon, Ginny, you think I could ever lead a quiet life?

Your answer's the same as mine.

Wish there were some way for me to find out what kinda trouble you'll be gettin' yourself into when you go back home. I'm sure it'd be fascinatin'.

No trouble for a while. We just got out of a lot of it, I'd rather not give my Mum grief when...

[Yeah, remember what you're going back to, Ginny? Funerals and one less seat at the dinner table.]

Well. You know. Suppose I have to—prepare for that.

[Yeah, he knows what she's talking about. Maybe a little too well.]

I dunno if there's an easy way to prepare for it, kid. If you find one, lemme know. I could use one, too. You 'n I both got enough bullshit in our lives for a hundred people.

Yeah, well, we don't like the easy way, either.

No, we never have been too good at that. Don't see that changin' in the future.

As long as there is one.

Of course there is one.

[A pause.]

Look, I gotta cut this short before I get all weepy 'n morose, y'know? But you gotta give me a hug before you leave, okay? Promise me that.

[The kneejerk reaction in her is to tell him he isn't allowed to disconnect, though rationally she knows they have a few days still.]

I— of course. Knowing me, I'll be the last one to go, anyway. Sort of my lot in life with being the youngest in the family... Used to saying the goodbyes before it's my turn.

I promise you a hug.