Chapter 1:
The Taken Road


"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both,
And be one traveller, long I stood,
And looked down one as far as I could,
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

And both that morning equally lay,
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh,
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I--
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference. "


She loved her hair. It was the kind of red few people naturally had and, brushing back deep scarlet bangs, Ginevra Weasley bent down, picked up her new dress off the bed, and began to fold it.

“Ginny,” Molly said, opening her door and peeking into her youngest’s small, but well-kept, bedroom. “There is something I would… like to discuss with you.” Her tones were a little on edge, and Ginny could tell, immediately, that her mother had run into another verbal argument with Aunt Muriel.

Since the Great Aunt had arrived, a week ago, things in the Burrow had been tense, and Ginny marvelled at how her mother handled the old lady – Ginny herself kept away from Muriel, because they were invariably like flint-and-steel: whenever they were together, the sparks would fly.

“Yes, mother?” she asked, carrying the folded dress to her chest of drawers. It was white, one of her favourite colours in furniture, and a present Fred and George had given her on her last birthday.

Molly Weasley hesitated. Irrespective of how she might defend her daughter in front of Aunt Muriel she was, in her heart of hearts, a mother, and she knew she would love to see her daughter go out, get together with a man – in general, start a family. She was an old-fashioned woman in many ways, Molly Weasley, and Ginny’s fire unsettled her, sometimes. What also unsettled her was her daughter’s lack of interest in men now, when she had discarded them for new ones like old socks, only two or three years ago.

But, more than any of this, what unsettled her was how little - in a way - Ginny had seen.

Molly herself, did not come from a very rich family, but her parents had put together more cash than she could count, to help her see the world. Besides, the Tour was in fashion these days, and most of Ginny’s age-fellows had embarked upon it, the moment they had stepped out of school. Her friend Meredick Grencent’s daughter – barely a month older than Ginny, that girl – had delayed her admission in Sou Feens, the country’s best Institute of Healing Arts, to complete her tour. And Ginny?

Ginny had stayed back, never inquired if she would ever get a similar chance – she knew, perhaps, that she would not – and it had stung, hurt Molly more than she let on. Ginny was her only daughter.

Which was exactly why Muriel’s “parting” words had stuck so deep – it infuriated Molly how much Muriel could give Ginny, but how little of it could be accepted in a good, lady-like way. Ginny would never agree to what Muriel would put her through – the high-and-mighty parties, the rich men.

“Mother?” Ginny asked, with a sigh. “Could you please tell me what the matter is? I have to dress for the seminar – it’s the closest I can get to Sou Feens.”

That stung, too. Sou Feens had been Ginny’s post-Hogwarts dream – a dream that had shattered due to lack of funds. Molly had tried her best, Arthur had tried his best but, at the end of the day, it just wasn’t good enough: the place was England’s top college for potential healers, and enrollment there required money – the kind of dough the Weasleys didn’t have. For Ginny, the sole comfort were the seminars the institute regularly held in London, informative and thankfully free-of-cost – she never missed one.

“I was wondering,” and Molly hesitated. “You’ve always wanted to go to France… my dear doll…” and she pulled a very surprised Ginny to herself, and stroked her hair. “You can, you know, of course it’s going to be difficult –”

“Mum!” Ginny said, wrenching herself free of her mother’s sudden grip. “Of course I can go to France, I can apparate there anytime.”

“But don’t you want to spend some time there?” Molly Weasley sniffed. “The weather is so beautiful, I know it was when I went there, and don’t you want to buy the pretty things, and taste the food, and see the fancy hotels, and the fancy men? I know Meredick’s daughter loved the experience – and you have let go of yourself, you don’t even have a boyfriend now. Your hair is so pretty, Ginny, if only you would let it down once in a while.”

The look on Ginny’s face made it clear that she thought her mother had gone mad. “Mum,” she said, eyes wide. “Are you alright?”

Molly Weasley sighed. “I’m sorry, my poor girl, I know you wanted to study at Sou Feens, but I tried, and France would be so lovely –”

“MUM!” Ginny said, grabbing her mother by the shoulders and giving her a little shake. “What is wrong with you? I don’t care about Sou Feens! I’m happy, alright? The only reason I don’t date is because none of the boys here attract me, they’re all so… similar. I mean, the same accents, the same sense of style, you would think they were clones.”

“I’m sorry,” Molly Weasley sniffed. “Really, baby.”

“The strain of Aunt Muriel is finally wearing off on you,” Ginny said decisively, now pretty certain her mother had lost her senses. “I’m telling that woman to leave, THIS INSTANT. We can NOT handle her, we do not need –”

“Listen,” Molly said, and she took both of Ginny’s hands in hers. “I know you don’t like your Aunt Muriel but the fact is, Ginny, she’s really rich, and I know she thinks you’re pretty, or she wouldn’t want to risk her reputation by inviting you over. She says you can come over, and it would be so lovely if you go, it would give me some peace of mind and –”

“You are delirious,” Ginny said firmly. She couldn’t bear Muriel in her own home, how the HECK did her mother think she would bear Muriel in the old hag’s home? The idea was ridiculous… and yet she felt a silent, gnawing sort of hunger she hardly ever felt. Ginny pushed it to the back of her mind, and faced her mother with a resolute face. “I am staying RIGHT here, and Aunt Muriel is NOT going to have me kicked out of my own house, and sent to hers, and –”

“I would like you to go,” Molly said quietly.

Ginny opened her mouth to speak – and then paused. There was a look of longing in her mother’s face, and Ginny could tell she wanted her daughter to see the wonders of the city she loved most. But it was not a look of longing, only – it was a silent question, and Ginny knew she could not answer no.

“Mum,” she said quietly. “You know the only thing she wants is to see me married off – she thinks it would ruin the Weasley linage, or something, if I don’t find myself a rich, pureblood type and –” her tones faltered, and she looked away.

Molly stepped up to her and placed a hand on her shoulder. “She can’t marry you off without your consent,” she said, and her tones had regained their usual briskness. “If I were you, Ginny, I would grab this chance.”

“Is that all that’s left for me?” Ginny asked angrily. “I’m not an orphan, and I’m not a beggar, mother! I’m not going to live on anybody else’s charity!” Her rage was building now, clouding her head in a shaking, raging storm. “Do you realize what you are implying? I don’t need men to run my life, mother, they bore me, and I will NOT allow Aunt Muriel to act matchmaker –”

“Don’t,” Molly cut through suddenly. “No one is asking you to marry some French male-tart, Ginny! I only wanted… what was best for you.” She turned away, and Ginny’s heart twisted at the look on her mother’s face – she had never realized her mother loved her this way. Which was silly of her, but she hadn’t - she knew her mother loved her, but she really hadn't seen this side of that love, before - and now she felt guilty, and terrible, and a lot of other things.

“I don't mean to run your life,” Molly said, almost briskly. “I've only been dreaming of good things for you… and it’s a mother’s right to dream, isn’t it, Ginny?”

A daughter’s too, Ginny thought quietly. For many years, now, she had not felt her poverty – she had not even been angry, only sad, when her dreams of Sou Feens had been ruined – but now she realized it broke her mother, not because Molly Weasley did not like it for herself, but because Molly Weasley did not like it for her children. Her dear children.

She stepped up to her mother, placed a hand on the older woman’s shoulder, and said something she would not have said in a million years, had circumstances been even a little bit different.

“I’ll go, mum.”

*

[] Reference:

+ "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood -" - Robert Frost, The Road Not Taken.