Disclaimer: Draco, Ginny, and the entire supporting cast belongs to our revered Ms. Rowling. Not me.

A/N: Thanks to all of the Hour Challenge participants who gave me such lovely feedback on this story.

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The young woman ascended the platform, a strength in her posture and comportment that she didn't feel in her heart. She had been called upon for this duty, and she wished that anyone else had been summoned in her place.

Once she stood at the podium that held her notes, she looked out across a sea of black that extended as far as the eye could discern. She asked herself again why she was standing in front of all these witches and wizards, who were expecting her to open her mouth and have brilliant words of comfort and insight fall forth. In that moment, she felt distinctly unsuited for the task.

Minerva. Minerva asked for me .. and I promised.

She cleared her throat before tapping her wand against her skin and murmuring "sonorus." Looking up at the assembled wizardry of Britain, she gave a tremulous smile and started her distasteful work.

"I stand before you now, to speak for the students that have passed through the front doors at Hogwarts School .. those who are in attendance now, and those of us who have completed our education there. I understand that the cleverest witch of our generation had been hoping to be here in my stead, but unfortunately her condition prevents her from addressing us today."

The daughter of the Minister of Magic, Auror, former Head Girl and Gryffindor Quidditch Captain paused for a moment to collect her thoughts.

"Much has been said about Albus Dumbledore already. I want to speak about what it was like to be a student under his tutelage.

"Professor Dumbledore was an involved, caring man, and an excellent Headmaster. If there was something going on in the school, he knew about it .. sometimes better even than the participants themselves." She thought back to a discussion in the Headmaster's office during her sixth year, about a certain blond boy .. some five months before she ever admitted a possible attachment to him.

"He was sometimes called upon to make difficult choices." Her eyes darted across to where she knew Harry stood with her brother and his wife. "Not once in all the years I knew him did he ever act for only his own benefit. Sometimes he had to choose between the path that was appropriate for a student and the path that was easy.

"He encouraged in all a love of learning, and a penchant for sweets unrivaled by any child in a sweetshop." This elicited random chuckles from the assembly. "He had a capacity for humor that goes unmatched in anyone I've ever met. He hoped for us to break away from the conventional and open our minds to new ways of thinking. Wizarding Britain will feel the effects of this, I expect, many years in the future."

She looked out towards where the current Hogwarts students were gathered, and then to where her fellow classmates stood, the colourful House scarves fluttering in the March winds. She was struck by how closely the current students were grouped by House, and how scattered House representation was among the recent graduates of her acquaintance.

"Professor Dumbledore once said, 'We are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided. Differences of habit and language are nothing at all if our aims are identical and our hearts are open.' If he could leave us with one message, I believe that would be the one he'd choose."

Ginny retrieved her wand from its pocket in her cloak and cast the quieting charm on herself before backing away from the lectern. As she left the platform, she encountered a tearful Minerva McGonagall standing at the head of the assembled Hogwarts School. The older and younger Gryffindor women exchanged a brief hug.

"That was lovely, Miss Weasley. Thank you." Ginny wondered sadly at the unsteadiness of her former Head of House's voice. She suspected that the rumours of an attachment, on the part of the woman standing in front of her at the very least, were true.

"If I can do more, Professor, please call on me." She gave the older woman a wan smile before continuing past the ranks of the firsties on toward those who waited for her. She found her eyes attracted to the colour of scarves rather than the faces of those who wore them.

She was stopped almost immediately in her progress by a knot of red and gold. She found herself locked in an embrace with the one person she'd not expected to see.

"Hermione, what are you doing here?" she exclaimed as she hugged her sister-in-law, whose confinement was expected to begin any day, and who had been advised by her midwitch to avoid stress at all costs.

"I couldn't stay home," Hermione replied, tears streaming from her eyes. "That was lovely," she added with a small sniffle.

"Oh, you silly girl." Ginny tightened her arms around her friend. "All this heartbreak isn't good for my nephew, do you hear me? After this, I want you to go home, and make that prat brother of mine make you some tea and let you rest." Her sister-in-law nodded, and she let Ron, George, Alicia, Fred, and Angelina all pull her into close embraces and murmured words.

She'd known this was going to happen. Her very open, very emotional, very loving family had been in shock from the moment that Severus Snape had walked into the hastily-called Order meeting and announced that Headmaster Dumbledore had left this existence. Under any other circumstance, she might be just another sniffling Weasley with a handkerchief in the crowd.

But Minerva had asked her to speak, so she had gathered up her courage. She promised herself that she could scream or cry or pass into blissful oblivion for a day or two when she got home, anything she liked as long as she got through the memorial without falling apart.

She made it through her comments and speaking with Professor McGonagall without incident. It was at the moment where her beloved sister-in-law started to sob on her shoulder that she felt the weight of what she'd been called to do. Each sniffle, each teardrop that fell on her cloak was an added burden on an already fragile composure.

The emotional distress of Hermione, and Angelina, and Alicia and everyone who touched her - even to give comfort - piled on top of her own. She longed to be able to tell everyone to bugger off, and go home, but as a Person of Stature, even for just one hour, it was her duty to greet and give comfort.

Merlin help me.

Once she'd extracted herself from Fred's insistence that a Canary Cream would be just the thing to lift her spirits, she found herself pulled into a slightly-awkward three-person hug with Harry and Luna Potter. "I heard you talking to me up there," he mumbled in her ear.

"Good! I made some of those remarks with you in mind," Ginny replied, with a halfhearted smile. After a few more moments with the Potters, she once again attempted to make her way toward her place in the crowd. She stopped to accept a brief kiss from her brother Percy, who was standing with Penny in a small cluster of Ravenclaws, and a few words exchanged with Cho Chang - no, Davies - who'd been Head Girl and Quidditch captain in her own day.

And then she made it to the cluster of mostly-green, and she gave a sigh of relief.

She passed Seamus, who was standing with one arm around Emma Dobbs, and Greg, who held an overemotional Christy Brocklehurst in his arms. Colin was with - Ginny blinked - Lizzie Goyle, who'd evidently snuck off from the Slytherin contingent of Seventh Years to be with her brother, and Blaise stood behind Millie, his hands snuggled protectively over what she could only guess was the newest Zabini.

The circle parted to allow her to take her place. "Parkinson, I swear to Merlin if you sob on me I'll hex you," she told Pansy, who dared give her a brief hug. She accepted a kiss on the cheek from Neville, and then a strong arm snaked around her waist to pull her close.

"We should remove your father from office and install you Minister of Magic instead," Draco murmured into her hair. "You were a better speaker than he was."

"I don't want to be Minister," Ginny mumbled tiredly into the warmth of his cloak.

"What do you want, love?"

"I just want to go home."