Title: Tea Bags and Soliloquies

Author: Aelan Greenleaf

Category: Angst/Romance/Drama

Rating: K+

Timeframe: All over the place, from Harry's birth to HBP. Not in chronological order.

Summary: Five women reminisce and reflect about the ones they love by themselves over tea. (A five chapter series of vignettes)

Characters: Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger, Nymphadora Tonks, Molly Weasley and Lily Potter

Disclaimer: I own none of this. I'm just playing with them for a while.

A/N: This is a five part story, comprised of five stand-alone vignettes connected only by the fact that each of the stories involves a woman from the HP universe and tea. I hope you enjoy them.


Part One: Early Morning Thoughts


Ginny Weasley yawned as she sat down at the dining table, brushing back her autumn hair out of her eyes. She barely registered her mother as she bustled into the room, and only listened half-heartedly as the family matriarch prattled on about something for the wedding, and that there was something that she was leaving for Ginny to do, and could she please have it done by the time she returned?

"Right-o, mum." she muttered, waving a hand up in acknowledgement. Her eyelids drooped dangerously low again, impairing her vision.

"Thank you, dear." said her mother, as she grabbed her handbag, kissed her daughter on the cheek quickly, and disappeared through the door. A faint 'pop' followed, and Ginny was alone. It took her another few moments to fully wake up, and by then she regretted not hearing what her mother had wanted her to do. No matter, she'd figure it out eventually.

She rose up from her seat, grabbed the jumper she had brought down with her, and pulled it on, finding it cold even in the summer morning. Noticing that her mother had left the kettle out, she got a glass out of a nearby cabinet and helped herself to some of the tea that was still steeping on the stove. Taking the mug in both of her hands, she ventured outside and sat down on the old swinging chair, drinking her tea in the cool morning air.

The wedding, she thought to herself. Everyone was so excited about it; even her mother and Fleur were truly bonding over it, picking the flowers for the ceremony, and the dresses, and if it would be possible for Celestina Warbeck to perform at the reception (this, of course, was heartily rejected by Fleur herself).

However, even thought Ginny was truly happy for her brother and his fiancé, and even though she was trying her hardest to be happy, her best attempts just kept falling through. Part of it, she knew was jealousy; her brother got to be with the one he loved, and yet, Ginny could not, but that wasn't all of it. She was worried.

She could feel it in the pit of her stomach, most strongly at night when she lay alone in her bed and the world was quiet around her. The feeling of pure, unadulterated anxiety and fear was building within her as the days passed. And this feeling was centred around her brother, her best friend and the boy that she dreamed about.

Ginny sighed and took a sip of her tea, savouring the warm liquid as it traversed her throat and warmed her from the inside out. She knew why, of course, they had to do what they had to do, but that didn't stop her from worrying and agonizing about it. There was a part of her that didn't want them to go. Didn't want him to go.

What she felt for Harry was confusing and strange. She was biased, she knew; she had had a crush on him from the first day she had met him at the King's Cross Station. And yet, she realized that there was something there, something she had for him that she had never had for Dean or Michael. Ginny was hesitant to call it love, but in reality, that was all that she could call it.

She raised the cup again and swallowed some more tea. The morning was warming around her, as the birds started to chirp and from far away, a church bell rang. But all of this was ignored by her, as she continued to be lost in her own thoughts.

After the wedding was done, they would be gone. Gone to fight an enemy that was almost immortal. And Ginny would be left behind, mourning the end of a relationship that almost never was. She was stuck on the sidelines, cheering for the home team but never allowed to join in.

What if they got hurt out there? What if they never came back?

What if they died out there?

A tear formed in the corner of her eye, and she brushed it away angrily. In doing so, the cup contained the last dregs of her tea tumbled to the ground, and shattered on the stone walkway at her feet. She froze, for a moment, inexplicably mesmerized by the shards of broken china below.

The sound of a hoot came through the silence, she finally looked away to see Pig flying at her from above, swaying side to side in the air as he bore a letter to her. He landed on her shoulder, pecking her finger affectionately, before flying off to find something to eat.

Ginny looked down at the letter in her hands, and gazed down at the scrawled writing on the parchment. To Ginny, from Harry, it said, in a half-faded black ink. She looked away.

"Reparo!" she whispered, as the mug reassembled on the ground. Picking it up, she stood, letter in her other hand, and re-entered her house. Love could be pondered upon later. Right now, she had a letter to read and a mysterious chore to do.