Ginny pulled her robes over her head, struggling to find the armholes. She was rather relieved to be reaching Hogwarts. People evidently found Harry absence extremely fascinating, and ever since she'd crossed the barrier, she'd been besieged. Having to explain, again and again, that no, he wasn't going out with her anymore, and that in fact, he'd left the school, perhaps to get away from her (at least, that had clearly been Romilda Vane's opinion) was more than a little wearying.
At least Luna hadn't wanted to talk, though Ginny wasn't sure if this was the result of laudable sensitivity, or simply absence of mind. With Luna you could never tell.
As much as Ginny liked her, it had been a difficult few hours, and she hadn't been completely able to restrain a horrible longing for Harry, or Hermione or… Louise. Jules and Neville had shared their compartment, and Jules looked as distressed as Ginny herself. It had been a relief to see her.
She'd slept between Jules and Louise for the last five years, but of course, Louise was still in St Mungo's, so there would only be four of them in the dormitory. Ginny got on well with all her dorm-mates – they were a 'group' – but at the same time, knowing the things she knew, she'd always been aware of a distance. And now there was no Hermione to talk to about it.
Ginny waved to Hagrid quickly, ducking out of sight before he could question her about Harry in his turn. All she wanted was to eat a speedy dinner and go to bed. There was a thick, chilly fog around them, which only worsened her mood. Leaving her friends, Ginny jumped into a carriage occupied by a group of second years. They were far too in awe of her to talk, and they reached the castle in record time.
Jumping down, Ginny's heart sank when she saw Professor McGonagall waiting at the door, her mouth thin and her arms crossed. Nodding at her, she said, "Come with me, Miss Weasley."
Ginny sighed, but there was nothing for it, and she followed the Headmistress to an empty classroom. Sitting down, Ginny stared at her hands – she had a premonition that this would be the hardest conversation of all.
McGonagall cleared her throat and said, "Well, Miss Weasley, I'm sure you know why I wish to speak with you."
Ginny shrugged. "I have an inkling."
The older woman's mouth twitched. "Have you any idea where Mr Potter has gone?"
Ginny shook her head. "None."
"And if you did know, you wouldn't tell me, would you?"
Ginny nodded. "If…Harry wanted you to know, Professor, he would have said something. But he didn't tell me anything." She had to stop for a moment there, to control a sudden wave of anger at him, at the position she found herself in.
McGonagall sighed and said, "Very well Miss Weasley, I had hoped…"
"I'm sorry Professor."
"Not to worry. The Order… this is to go no further than yourself, you understand?"
Ginny nodded, and the Headmistress continued, "Well, the Order has received one or two messages – Remus Lupin was good enough to interpret them for us."
Ginny took a deep breath. "So… they're all right… they're not..?"
The Professor eyed her sympathetically. "All indications are good… if I should hear anything to the contrary, I will inform you."
Ginny stood. "Thank you, Professor."
"There is one more thing."
"Oh?"
Professor McGonagall held a red and gold badge out to her. "With Mr Potter gone, we are without a Quidditch Captain."
A wave of revulsion swept through Ginny's stomach – this is Harry's position, Harry's job, not hers. It must have shown in her face, for her teacher added, "You are the player with most experience, and Madam Hooch mentioned that…"
Ginny was barely listening to the words, and numbly she stretched out her hand to take the badge, trying to decide whether she should play as Seeker or Chaser this year. Her head hurt, and she wanted to run outside and kick the wall and yell at the sheer unfairness of it all, but she merely nodded at McGonagall and made her way out.
Ginny had always loved Quidditch, and, if it hadn't been for Harry, it would easily have been the best aspect of her fifth year. Playing, really playing, on a good team, on a team that actually worked together, and winning. She bit her lip as she remembered.
Harry was working them harder then ever – Ginny hadn't seen him the determined since the last days of the DA. Mind you, that really wasn't a fair comparison – at least he was laughing these days. In fact, ever since she'd started impersonating Ron swearing as he missed the Quaffle, Harry had been laughing a lot. And he was around more.
It made no sense; she'd known Harry for years, he was good friends with Ron and Hermione, so of course, he'd always been around. And yet, it was true. Somehow Harry was far more present than he'd ever been before – Ginny saw him all the time. He'd pop up when she was in the library, or walk her back from Quidditch practise, and he always, always sat beside her at dinner. Ginny would have had to be utterly foolish not to notice that this behaviour had peaked since she'd broken things off with Dean, but she couldn't quite make the leap of faith to believe what Hermione had been insinuating – after all, this was Harry
After everything that had happened this year – that horrible fight with Ron, which she still hated to think about, the coldness between her and Hermione that lasted for so long – Ginny wasn't sure she had it in her to get imagine Harry could be interested. Not after seeing her at her absolute worst.
Anyway, she waved at Harry and mimicked him falling sharply off his broomstick – he looked so determined that she couldn't resist the temptation to make him laugh. Racing forwards to catch the Quaffle, Ginny was shocked to hear a Harry yell. Looking back, she saw a Bludger had hit him. Again.
This was the third time tonight, and Ginny decided it was time to call a halt. She didn't know why he'd become so addicted to being hit by fast-moving, heavy objects, but it was a bad habit, and she was determined to put a stop to it.
With a minimal amount of yelling, Ginny managed to get everyone back to the changing room. Having removed her robes, she turned to Harry and said, "Are you okay?"
He shrugged. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"
Ginny stared. "You got hit in the ribs – twice – by a Bludger, and on your leg. You must be bruised or something."
Harry grinned. "I don't feel anything."
"Well that's because you've clearly become immune to pain. How many times have you been hit in the last week?"
Harry looked uncomfortable, and said, "I don't know. A few?"
"Many, Harry. Have you at least checked for bruises?"
"No. I can't see my own back Ginny. But, maybe…" She was astonished to see Harry blushing, ever so slightly, "You could…"
Ron joined them, grumbling loudly about the two goals he'd let in during practise, and Ginny was left to stare at Harry. Had he really just suggested she see him without his shirt? And if he had, did she have even the least problem with it?
Of course not. But, this was Harry – unfortunately, he was the least likely person in the world to suggest anything 'inappropriate.' At least, not with her.
Ginny shook her head – this was not the way to enjoy her year at Hogwarts. However if she wanted to spend her time moping around and being generally miserable, she was certainly on the right track.
She made her way down to the Great Hall, where she act a quick dinner, chatted with Jules, Neville and Demelza, and glared fiercely at anyone who asked her about Harry. She laughed at peoples' jokes and chattered gaily to Dean as she made her way up to the Portrait Hole, and when she finally reached her dorm she sank down on her bed with a deep sigh of relief.
The next morning she woke up to sun shining through her window, Jules grinning at her and Hedwig sitting on the windowsill. Letting her in, Ginny found a packet containing a blank sheet of parchment, an old mirror and a Sneakoscope.
Perplexed, she opened the letter. For one glorious moment she thought it was from Harry, before she recognized Hermione's handwriting. Her heart sank further as she read the brief, obviously hurriedly written, note.
Dear Ginny,
I know this comes as a bit of a surprise, but things have been getting a bit busy lately, and Harry says it's too dangerous to send owls any more, and that we should send Hedwig to you, to avoid temptation. Don't worry though – we're all fine. Really
You can ask Fred and George about the map – it may come in handy. For now 'I solemnly swear I am up to no good' and 'Mischief managed' are two phrases you should remember. I don't know if it'll come in useful, but you should keep it and the mirror on you at all times if possible.
Ron thought you should have a Sneakoscope, given, well…you know – and he says it's a belated birthday present. I'm really sorry I can't write more, but I've got about two seconds to write this in. We all miss you.
Love, HermioneSuddenly, it felt like it would immense effort to get through the day.