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The orange orb of the sun hung low, bathing the surroundings of the Draag Stone in warm afternoon light. Ginny concentrated hard on the peaceful scene, biding her time, suppressing the thought of food or of her brother who had not returned, and especially of Severus.

Dusk would provide her a welcome head start in visual Obfuscation, so that she could reasonably hope to avoid being caught by the wrong guys.

Come to think of it there's hardly any magical person out there other than the wrong sort, she mused grimly. Then she shrugged the thought off determinedly as it would not do to dwell on it. Better get this patch of soil dry and keep prepared for a strong Obfuscation spell. Constant vigilance! Gah, definitely the wrong sort...Moody will have me in a full Body-Bind before I can draw my wand.

For the umpteenth time, Ginny checked on Bill's old point-me device. Stubbornly beelining towards the goal, it had failed him in the mazes of Egyptian graves, but Ginny was intending to fly with it. She set it to Carlisle shopping centre, from where she could easily make the last ten miles home. Half an hour still, and she would start.

It was the plop of an awkward Apparition that pulled Ginny out of her thoughts. The tall, rail-thin bloke arriving had the presence of mind to hurl aside the yard-long object he was carrying before he toppled awkwardly over a piece of luggage and fell to the ground, buried in a heap of clothes.

Then silence.

Inch by inch, Ginny lifted the object and magicked it towards herself. The many marks easily identified it as the other broom from The Burrow.

Minutes later Ron was crouching next to her, recovering. With a huff she ditched her plan to set off alone.

:*:*:*:

He nearly lost the broomstick wedged under his elbow when he Apparated away in haste. Bloody Death Eaters, chasing him from place to place! But this was the second time in a row he had not heard anyone Apparate, and he dared a peek into the green rucksack. His mother's now shabby, yesterday's dress robes lay on top. Turned inside out their bright lime colour faded to the more agreeable tone of a pistachio. They disguised Ron well enough, he decided, steadfastly ignoring the ridiculous, frilly seam at knee-height.

Another two Apparitions later, he landed awkwardly where he had come from, the Draag stone.

:*:*:*:

While assessing Ron's angry wound, Ginny wondered aloud if Harry had a strategy for the final confrontation yet.

Ron merely grunted. "Harry needs a new wand or he cannot face Volde..." Ginny flinched instinctively and was truly relieved that Ron interrupted himself as well.

"You had better give up this particular road," Ginny replied, trying for casual with little success. She couldn't endanger Ollivander by elaborating about their sources, but she had to get the message across.

"Are you telling me he should stop trying for other wands?"

"You would be searching endlessly for a ready-made wand that happens to suit Harry."

For a moment, Ron looked her straight into the eyes, but he was not pushing in at all. He was far too calm for her liking, and she preferred to change the subject. "How's everybody doing? You haven't told me much yet."

Ginny decided to come back to the sensitive matter of the wand later. Delivering it in small doses could keep it safe from inexpert Legilimency at least.

"Harry isn't doing so well, Ginny. According to Mad-Eye, has made progress in Occlumency, but I wonder if it is more encouragement than honest assessment," Ron said. It was more than she had pressed out of him before, and it wasn't all either.

"We miss you Ginny. Daily, or actually wherever we look. Charlie's mouth is a thin line like ol' McGonagall's, and Mum is desperate. She buries herself in work."

"I've seen her fighting like a tiger today. I'd have never thought she's that good. Brilliant, really!" Ginny remembered. "Is it some kind of revenge that spurs her?"

"She has to keep herself from thinking of you, she claims. Dad is very worried she might overdo it and collapse," Ron reported.

Quietly, Ginny said, "Please, Ron, tell Mum that I'm fine. I'm really, really not badly off and not in any more danger than anyone else these days."

Upon his doubtful look, Ginny stood and turned, her arms wide. "Do I have to cartwheel to prove it? Undress?"

"N... no! You do look unharmed." Ron conceded.

They went silent for a while, each lost for words, which was strange, considering.

"What is the matter with Harry?" Ginny finally asked.

"I don't know. He's brooding. He is not deeply, desperately in love with you, or your memory, I think. You had better discuss it with Hermione; she is a better judge than I am. But he isn't doing well. He keeps telling us of the way Snape held him down when he escaped with Malfoy. Harry feels he is no match even for Snape and thus how could he fight He-Who- you know."

"I've never talked to Severus about this."

"I bet," Ron blurted out. "Does he let you talk at all?"

"Ron!" Ginny got angry again. "Of course we talk, but I cannot pick a fight with him, right?" She could not tell Ron anything that endangered Severus' status. She just wished her brother understood. With a "Ready to go?" she stood and took her broom.

Ron, however, wasn't moving and Ginny sat back down. She couldn't leave him there. To give him a few more minutes, she related tiny, every day incidents that needed no clear references, a flock of hummingbirds upsetting a Charms lessons and how she still didn't enjoy Transfiguration. "Do tell Mum that, Ron. Even if it appears ordinary...this is how my life goes. Oh, and I've improved in cooking! We're actually sharing kitchen work and have developed our own Asian style. I still hate doing the laundry, but Severus has some spells that help with tricky potion stains. It's really true what Fred and George said at Christmas: now that I have to do it myself, I start appreciating the work Mum did for us. She'd be pleased to hear that Severus has no house-elf. We live... ah, but you'll see."

Ron scoffed, not convinced, but didn't say anything.

With no obvious reference to the fact that wands cored with a phoenix feather would not easily tolerate a second wand, Ginny continued. "Do get Harry to find a black Hippogriff. He could ask the beast for a feather and then contact Gregorovitch or his colleague Finland."

As she was talking, Ron rolled over, using the rucksack as a pillow and fell silent. So did Ginny. The only noise to be heard was Ginny's stomach rumbling.

It had long been too dark to see their white-soled trainers; time was flying by. Ginny quietly suggested they mount their brooms. "The thick, low clouds coming up over there will help to conceal us all without using magic that could be traced."

The only reaction she got from her brother was that he turned to lie on his back. Soon he began snoring.

Swearing under her breath, Ginny cast a warming charm on him. More delay, and the sepsis reached further up again! He could not fly independently, so much was sure.

The last jogger with his funny little head torch had long left, when Ginny shook Ron's leg to rouse him. "Get on your broom! We cannot afford more delay."

Ginny mounted the better broom and buckled the rucksack. "If needed, this load will have to be disposed of quickly. I'll glue your right hand loosely to the broom. You'll have to keep your balance with your legs, as in a match. Keep your wand at the ready in your left hand."

Ron was awake in an instant, and sounded alarmed. "What? You want me to fly without support? Ginny, this is madness!"

"Madness starts when we need to dodge Ministry patrols. Knees tight and off now, this way."

Ginny decided to take a low travelling height and observed her brother closely.

"Careful, sharp right now," she cried, having already turned her broom. Ron was slow in following. "Hey, hold your wand, you might need it," she scolded, gripping him hard by the scruff of his neck and setting him upright again. He was shaking...this was no good. They landed on the next path.

"This won't do. I will have to join our brooms," she stated and went to work. "OK, done. You know that, don't you?" He shook his head. "Tsk tsk, Slytherins are right," she mumbled more to herself than her brother. "Hooch didn't teach us anything useful. Just Quidditch. This is a spell for flying trips with a child or a weak flyer, like an injured one. You need to know flying in its basics, but I have the ultimate control. You'll see. Off now, Severus has to be worried to death."

:*:*:*:

Ron felt awful. He could barely hold himself upright. How was he to bring his sister to Scotland? His arms useless, vision blurry, wind howling in his ears he relied fully on his flying instincts. With the manoeuvres she made, it was a good thing he hadn't eaten for hours.

Casting spells left, right and even backwards in ways he didn't understand, his sister speeded along. His own broom kept pace magically and even smoothed over her wildest movements, but he felt seasick nonetheless.

On and on they flew. Ron was lulled in as long as they went straight, but that luxury hardly ever lasted long.

"Sharp left now, help along," registered in his brain as Ginny had already turned, casting spells backwards and left. They made the air sizzle fifty yards away. "Remember your wand!" she admonished him, but holding a wand in his left hand was just pointless. Shaking heavily now, it was all Ron could do to hold himself upright on his broom.

Again Ginny sent the strange spell to the ground.

The flight seemed endless. Ron was numb with cold. The only warm place was the hurting upper arm where the blood thudded at the strong binding.

They gained height to pass over a forest and a mountain. She turned sharply left without a warning but gripped the scruff of his neck to steady him. .

Finally she slowed down, drew closer and asked innocently, "Do you know where we are?"

"N... n... no idea," Ron stuttered. How could he? They had been wildly criss-crossing in the clouds, and honestly, what did he know about the Muggle counties of Northern England?

"Good, so my diversion has worked," she grinned and without a warning she had them both descend in what could become the Weasley Feint...no, Ron corrected himself, flinching at the thought...Snape Feint.

:*:*:*:

They circled over tiny houses seaming a mesh of narrow, cobbled streets until Ginny descended to land in the attic of a house with dilapidated roof.

As Ginny peeped out of the hole in the roof, Ron gathered his wits. Nothing had gone as he wanted so far, but he would not give up yet. He stood gingerly and made a few tentative steps. His legs were holding! Carefully, he stretched and flexed his joints to work out the kinks from the flight.

It was pitch dark outside, except for the cones of light from sparsely distributed street lanterns. A strange stench of Muggle origin filled his nostrils.

"The coast is clear," his sister proclaimed and had them both glide down to the patch of dirt near the cracked porch stone. She ushered Ron a few miserable houses further, some boarded, some lived-in

At the end of the street, they turned towards one crooked house with an intact roof and lit windows. A ripple went through Ron as he triggered a ward. The front door was flung open immediately. A deep voice boomed, "Ginevra, what is it? Are you all right?"

Ginny dropped rucksack and broom, left Ron standing there and flung herself into Snape's wide open arms. "I'm fine, no worries. How're you, love?"

"Goodness, never do that to me again!"

A/N 1: Warm hugs and huge thanks go to MagicAlly for working her magic on this chapter as my only beta and my Britpicker.

A/N 2:

Sorry for the inexcusably long wait. My family is troubled, and I found this chapter very difficult. I am not proud of it even now, but I really want to get it over with, so bear with me. I'll try my very best to update more regularly now.