It's completely over between Harry and Ginny—not that anything ever really began in the first place. Then Ginny loses her memory, and Harry wins her heart back. Faced with the choice, will Harry agree to let Ginny regain her memory?

Set in Harry's seventh year—he defeated Lord Voldemort in his sixth with the help of Ron, Hermione and Ginny, and is more or less recovering from the trauma and adapting to life as a normal boy—and Ginny's sixth year.

Do I Know You?

One

Harry leaned back lazily against the trunk of the tree, arms crossed and eyes squinting languidly around at his surroundings.

The Sunday afternoon was sunny, yet breezy, and he had the added benefit of idling under the shade of a tree. Life wasn't so bad.

Students were scattered all around him on the grass; laughing, talking, reading— generally enjoying themselves.

Even the giant squid in the lake was relaxing—it was floating close to the surface of the water, occasionally stretching out a tentacle or two to frolic with the handful of students who were splashing about in the lake.

It was lazy weather, as Harry called it.

Beside Harry, however, Ron and Hermione were bickering too heatedly to properly appreciate the weather.

Harry's forehead creased a little as he listened to their bantering.

"Ron! Give me back my book!" Hermione's agitated squeals resounded through the air.

"Magical Hieroglyphs and Logograms? Mione, you're nuts! I don't even know what the title means!" A derisive snort from Ron.

"It's for leisure purposes! And how can you not know what it means? Hey—give it back!" Now an exasperated noise from Hermione.

"I would be bloody nuts to read this for leisure! Why, I-"

Harry tuned out. He didn't think he could bear listening to them anymore—their squabbling was driving him up the wall.

Maybe he should just take a snooze instead. It was certainly a nice afternoon for one, and he had finished all the homework that was due the next day anyway.

Harry's eyelids fluttered shut.

"I'll give you the book back if-"

"Don't be silly, Matilda, you've got it all wrong!"

"Er- er- Trudy, would you like to go out with me?"

"Neville Longbottom! You come back here or I'll-"

"Ron! You infuriating-"

Voices were drifting by and mingling in the lazy air, creating a sort of clashing but still somewhat harmonious melody.

Harry shut his eyes tightly. It was rather noisy—he didn't think he would be able to pick out a specific person's voice if he had to. Everybody seemed to be talking at the same time.

"Thea, this looks like a nice spot."

Harry's eyes snapped open faster than a Firebolt whizzing through the air. He recognized that voice.

Was that-? Could that be-?

"Yeah, sure, let's sit down here then, Ginny."

It was! It was Ginny!

And she was sitting down with her friend—Anthea, was it? –just a little distance away from where he was situated.

All thoughts of napping immediately flew out of Harry's head and he concentrated his full attention on watching the pretty red-headed witch and her friend some way away from him. Even the loud buzz of conversation around him went unheard.

Harry watched intently as Ginny sat down on the grass, flicking some of her glossy auburn hair behind her shoulder. Her hair looked very nice under the glinting sunlight.

Now she was laughing over something with her friend. They were both giggling mirthfully and quite uncontrollably on the grass. Ginny looked extremely pretty when she laughed.

Not that she wasn't pretty all the time, of course.

It just occurred to Harry that he was acting very, very stalker-esque.

Right.

He better stop that now.

Oh- Ginny was now flashing that extremely winning smile of hers… Harry's heart always skipped a beat whenever he laid eyes on that irresistible smile.

Now.

Harry stared fascinated as Ginny's long slender fingers reached up and pushed back a stray lock of her wonderful-looking hair.

Like now.

And now she was-

Now!

Harry extremely reluctantly tore his eyes away from Ginny, who was talking animatedly to her friend—she looked so cute gesticulating so enthusiastically like that!

Must look at something else. Must look at something else.

Harry's eyes landed on his shoes, which if you thought about it, were still in the direction of Ginny, but hey, he knew when not to push his luck and decided to himself that this was as good as it was going to get.

It wouldn't be so stalker-like if he just happened to catch bits and pieces of their conversation, would it?

Harry strained his ears to hear what Ginny and her friend were saying—after all, they were quite some distance away.

"Hey… Gin, who do you fancy?"

Harry's heart jumped a little in his chest. That was the exact question he had always wanted to ask Ginny, but had never managed to work up the courage to.

"I don't know… no one particular at the moment, I suppose. That last break-up with Dean was rather depressing, I guess."

Harry's heart sank a little.

He would have preferred that Ginny tell her friend she fancied Harry Potter, especially now that he had realized that he… well, sort of fancied her too, but he guessed it would have been too good to be true- Ginny was long past the days of her childhood when she had been infatuated with his person.

Oh well. At least she didn't fancy any other particular person at the moment, which still gave him a fair chance, he supposed.

"Oooh, you may not fancy anyone, Gin, but I know someone who is definitely attracted to you!"

Harry raised his eyebrows and he felt his whole body stiffen. His heart was pumping rapidly.

He couldn't have been that obvious, could he?

"Who?" Ginny was the picture of adorable curiosity, her eyes wide with surprise and alarm, her cheeks slightly flushed. Harry felt his rapidly-pumping heart melt into goo.

"Wolfe Canewell, that's who! He has been professing his undying affection for you to his friends and I got wind of the matter." Anthea, if that's what her name really was, proclaimed triumphantly.

Harry's eyebrows shot up so high that they nearly disappeared into his tousled black hair. He clenched his fists tightly, and his body tensed even more.

Wasn't Wolfe Canewell that annoying and arrogant sixth-year Slytherin?

That seemed to be the main question on Ginny's mind too- "Isn't Wolfe Canewell that Slytherin in our year?"

"Yeah, that's him, alright- so… do you return his feelings?" Harry found Anthea, if that's what her name truly was, highly annoying.

She needn't even ask! He growled in his mind. Ginny would never fancy a Slytherin!

But Ginny seemed to be taking a considerably long time, or so it seemed to Harry, to refuse the idea of her ever liking Wolfe Canewell point-blank.

"I-I-" She faltered before composing herself. "Well, I suppose I'm flattered…"

Harry fixed his gaze keenly on the unsure expression on her face. Come on, Ginny, he pleaded with her in his heart. This shouldn't be so hard—he's a bloody Slytherin for crying out loud!

Anthea, however, cut Ginny short. "Speak of the devil, Gin… Wolfe Canewell is headed your way!"

Harry really, really disliked her then. His head immediately snapped up, and his eyes closely followed the blonde-haired Slytherin as he made his way to the patch of grass where Ginny was perched apprehensively.

"Er… Hi, Ginny," Canewell tentatively began.

"Hello." Ginny shot him a small, somewhat nervous smile and tucked a tendril of her hair behind her ear.

Harry stifled a growl; he longed to jump up from where he was sitting, stride over there and tell Canewell to buzz off.

Beside him, he thought he felt Ron stiffen as well. Was he, too, aware of the situation at hand?

"May I sit down here?" Canewell was now requesting of Ginny, indicating the tuft of grass right next to her.

"Er-"

"No! You may not! Get away from her, Canewell!" Ron hollered angrily, jerking up from his position next to Harry and storming towards the trio.

Harry groaned. Much as he was relieved and glad that Ron had done that, for he had only been a split-second faster than Harry himself, he was aware that it was not the smartest thing to do.

Especially in a case that involved a girl like Ginny Weasly.

"Ron! What the hell do you think you're doing! Wolfe can very well sit here if he pleases to!" Ginny was now incensed, her brown eyes sparkling with rage.

"Gin! Are you bloody out of your mind? He's a-a-a Slytherin!" Ron spat the word out as if it were filthy.

Which it was, actually, Harry mused. But, back to the scene brewing like a storm in a teacup.

"So I've noticed, Ron! I'm not taking any more of your bloody nonsense! So what if he's a Slytherin? I don't need you to interfere in my doings!" Ginny hurled back, livid with rage.

"Ginny! You can't—it's just wrong! For Merlin's sake—a Slytherin! I'm just trying to protect you!"

Uh oh. Harry cringed. Ron had just used the word. The one that Ginny hated to be used in her context. Protect. He prayed to Merlin that his friend would get out of this alive and in one piece.

"PROTECT! PROTECT ME! I can effing well handle myself, Ronald Weasly! For Merlin's sake, I don't need ANYONE, AT ALL, to effing PROTECT ME!" Ginny was practically screeching, her anger having reached its peak.

"But-"

"I'm not taking any more of your effing crap! Petrificus Totalus!" Ginny, truly outraged now, brandished her wand from her pocket and thundered the first spell that came to mind.

Ron immediately fell to the ground with a thud, his mouth wide open in shock.

Ginny merely whipped around and stormed away, leaving everybody present to stare with astonishment at her retreating back and slowly process what had just took place.

Anthea quickly scrambled to her feet and ran after Ginny's disappearing figure, in what everybody assumed was a bid to go calm her down.

"Ron!" Hermione exclaimed, horrified, as she rushed to his side. Harry jumped up and strode over there too, where he pulled out his wand and muttered the counter-curse.

Ron sat up and rubbed his neck, an extremely sour expression on his face.

"Pathetic." The trio looked up to see Canewell sneering at Ron, his arms crossed smugly. "Simply pathetic. If it wasn't for your sister-"

Harry felt a fervent urge to punch him.

"You bloody well stay away from my sister, Canewell! If I catch you touching a single hair on her head…" Ron's voice was dangerously low, vehemence written all over his face.

Canewell threw him a mocking glance, taunting, "Well then, we'll see what you can do, and what I can do. Ginny is a very pretty girl."

With that, he swiveled around and swiftly walked away.

"Why, that no good git! If that filthy bast- Let go of me!"

Hermione and Harry were both holding firmly onto Ron, restraining him from running after Canewell and beating the living daylights out of him.

Harry was trembling with rage too, and his fist itched to connect with Canewell's jaw as he watched him walk away with narrowed eyes.

- - -

The next few days were rather awkward ones for Harry and Hermione.

Ginny was still mad at Ron, and Ron, though mostly worried for his sister's wellbeing, was equally incensed with Ginny for humiliating him in front of everybody.

The two people who were caught in the middle—namely Harry and Hermione—were thus forced to deal with huge amounts of tension and murderous glares being shot back and forth between Ron and Ginny whenever the two were in the same room, which was quite often, considering that they were both in the same House and all.

On the fourth day following the big blow-up, however, Harry clumsily entered the Gryffindor common room to find Ginny alone inside.

"Hey." He greeted her with a smile and plopped himself down on the seat next to her.

"Hello, Harry." She looked up from the huge tome she was studying and offered him a small smile too before resuming her pursuing of the book.

Harry stared at her.

A curl of her brilliant red hair had fallen to the side of her face, and he fought his immense desire to tuck it back behind her ear for her.

His fingers twitched.

He contented them with running them through his own incorrigibly messy hair instead.

"Ginny… Ron's right, you know." Harry plucked up the courage to broach the topic, even though he was extremely sure that he didn't want an outraged red-headed witch shouting and spewing deadly spells at him.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Ginny's fingers reached up and brushed that stray lock of hair back to where it belonged, her eyes still firmly fixed on the book, even though Harry was quite sure she was longer really concentrating on it.

Harry heaved an inaudible sigh of relief. At least his fingers had stopped twitching now.

"Gin… Canewell's bad news—Ron's right." Harry said softly.

This time, Ginny raised her eyes to meet Harry's.

Those doe-like brown eyes… Harry felt himself starting to drown in them.

But… there was irritation in those eyes at the moment, something which jolted Harry to sit up and at least attempt not to lose himself in them.

"Why does everybody tell me that? First Ron, then Hermione, and now you, Harry." Ginny was irate for sure.

Oh well, Harry thought. Better irate than livid.

"But, Gin, you didn't see what happened after you left-" Harry protested, frustrated.

Merlin, how was he supposed to portray the awfulness of that scene accurately to the annoyed red-headed witch in front of him?

Ginny saved him the trouble of carrying on by interrupting him. "Look, Harry, my business's my own. I can take care of myself well enough. Why do you even care, anyway?"

And here she eyed him warily.

Harry sputtered. "Why do I even care? Gin, I'm your friend! And I'm your brother's friend!"

He immediately regretted the last sentence because it implied that he only looked at her as his friend's little sister, but went on anyway.

"Of course I care about you! I care about your wellbeing as a friend!"

"Oh. Thanks, Harry, but I really can take care of myself—besides, if Wolfe's really that bad, don't you all trust that I won't be so blind as not to see it?

I can survive on my own, Harry." Ginny then immersed herself in her book once again.

An eternity of unbearable silence seemed to ensue, before Harry gathered the courage to break it.

"I-I care for you m-more than a friend too." He managed to stutter out, his gaze fixed firmly on his kneecaps.

He didn't dare look up, but he heard a sharp intake of breath from Ginny.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her shut her book gently.

"Harry, look at me. Look me in the eye." Her voice was soft, but firm.

He obeyed her obediently and was frightened to see sorrow in her eyes.

Then she asked him a question that totally threw him off.

"Harry—do I know you?"

Harry stared at her in astonishment, his mouth hanging open, and he could only manage a rather intelligent-sounding, "Huh?"

Ginny continued anyway.

"Do you know me?"

Harry could only continue gawking at her in befuddlement, as if the lovely female in front of him had suddenly morphed into ugly, odious Snape when he had least expected it.

Ginny smiled weakly at his confusion.

"You see, Harry, I don't think I know you.

And I don't think you know me either.

Because if you did, you would have known that I've been waiting for six years, not counting all of my years not in Hogwarts, for you to utter what you just did.

And you would have known that I've decided to cease waiting only just a few weeks ago."

In his flabbergasted state, Harry managed somehow, though he himself didn't quite know how either, to gasp out, "But- but Hermione said you had given up on me in your fifth year!"

Ginny shot him a smile laced with bitterness.

"Ever heard of lying to cover up your feelings, Harry? But then again, if you had really known me, you would have known that that was what I did at that time.

And if you really do know me, you would know that it's killing me inside to see the irony of the situation- a few weeks ago, I rendered whatever feelings I had for you dead, and a few weeks later, you tell me you fancy me.

Kind of makes you think, doesn't it? How you can see the same person every day, assume that you know him or her, only to realize in the end that you really know absolutely nothing about him or her.

Because maybe you've never really bothered to get to know him or her all these years."

Ginny stopped there. She couldn't go on; she stifled a silent sob.

"Gin, I didn't know-" Here Harry paused in horror as he realized the irony of his statement.

"It's okay, Harry. Like I said, I can survive on my own." Ginny recollected herself and stood up, book in hand.

As if Harry wasn't crushed enough, she then delivered the line that properly shattered his heart.

"I'm sorry, but you're too late, Harry—I'm already going out with Wolfe Canewell."

Ginny fled up to her dormitory and the safety and warmth of her bed.

Downstairs, Harry remained motionless in shock and horror at the information he had just received, his mind reeling and trying desperately to block it out and pretend he had never heard it.

Upstairs, Ginny flung her book to the far end of the room, threw herself on her bed, buried her face in her pillow, and sobbed her heart out.

wRiter's Ramblings:

Yes, sad, sad, sad. The first part of the story is rather… dismal, don't you think? I found it quite saddening to write too. However, have no fear—things will look up in the next chapter, to be sure. :) And it's not as if Ginny doesn't fancy Harry in this chapter either—she's just hurt, and in denial. Yup.

Now, unless you want the wRiter to be sad, sad, sad too—and seeing as how I'm sure all of you are nice, decent people, you won't—please review:) A review is pretty much quick and easy to do—it's just a click of a button away! In fact, that pretty little button down there! Yes… you know you want to! Hustle:)

Thank you! Much love from me:)