A/N: I'd like to clear up any confusion I've received from readers.
The voice of Harry's perspective will shift from active and passive depending on the situation. The tapping in Harry's ear was a passive thing, so everything was seen passively. Harry getting hit with a curse and losing control of his speech was active. It provides a sense of urgency, and his feelings are urgent in those moments.
As for the first chapter's title... I thought it was obvious. My mistake. One of Tonk's biggest personality traits is her clumsiness. Plus she liked to sport pink hair. And just in case anyone didn't catch it, Cedric Diggory is in reference to the good looks expressed both on Harry and Ginny's part, and of course, the fact that Cedric was a Hufflepuff and lost his life as the first casualty in the second Wizarding war.
Excuse the interruption. Now on with the story.
There was a loud knock at the door of Twelve Grimmauld Place and Harry sighed in his seat, not bothering to get up to open it. He knew it was only a false gesture done to be polite, and thirty seconds later, he was right. Hermione showed her face and stalked over to where he was, sitting across from him. "Please, c'mon in," he said darkly. "I also have some food in the kitchen, why don't you help yourself?" Dark brown eyebrows narrowed at him and he heard, "Already on it!" in the background before he glimpsed red hair heading downstairs to his kitchen.
Harry grinned, but Hermione didn't look amused. She leaned in towards him, staring at the vividly pink thunderbolt scar against his pale skin. How jagged it looked. How distinct. "Ginny came by to see me today."
Harry already figured this out. His scowl calmly stayed below his features. "She told you about our little run-in," he said simply.
Hermione nodded her head, now appearing apprehensive before she spoke. "She says you weren't looking so well. I have to agree."
Harry kept his scowl in check, hidden and stretching miles beneath his face. The prominence of it elongating not unlike the wide mouth of a toad. A dirty, slimy toad. Harry cleared his throat, willing the image away.
Hem-hem.
Hermione didn't notice. "Are you okay, Harry?"
Harry knew the multiple implications of her question. Was he okay physically? Was he okay seeing Ginny again after so long? He wanted to hear nothing of it, but Hermione was never one to let that get in her way. So he opened his mouth to speak, hoping he didn't croak. "I'm fine, Hermione."
"But seeing Ginny—"
"I'm fine," Harry repeated forcibly, his voice definitely a croak.
Hermione didn't notice. "You're a terrible liar."
"Isn't he?" asked Ron as he came into the large sitting room, mouth full of food. Crumbs on his chin, and he didn't appear to mind. He took a seat next to Hermione, grinning before seeing her expression and his mouth quickly mirrored hers. An unhappy grimace. "What?" he asked her. "I don't blame him. Have you seen her lately? Quidditch has been doing her wonders! Can't have been too happy seeing her when he's looking like that, can he?"
Harry lost his grip on his scowl, and it openly broadened against his mouth.
Hermione and Ron didn't notice. "Ron!" she admonished.
"What?" Ron asked loudly once more. Perplexed like usual. His face unknowing. "What did I say?"
"Honestly Ro—"
"Stop it, you two," Harry croaked, annoyed. He's heard this time and time again. They both immediately shut up, turning their heads to look at him. "I really am okay," he said.
His two best friends gave him pointed looks. Unenthusiastic and disbelieving. Recognizable and warm.
Hem-hem.
Harry had to smile. He imagined that too must be large. "Trust me," he pleaded. "It… caught me by surprise, yes," he admitted. "But I handled it…"
A brown eyebrow went up, and Ron suddenly found the time on his wrist rather interesting. "According to Ginny, it didn't sound like you handled it…" she said.
Harry's hidden scowl roared and turned restless. "How soon do we take the words of others over mine," he muttered bracingly.
The strictness in Hermione's face softened. Her hand reached out for his. "Harry," she said gently. "We're not taking her word over yours…" She looked at Ron for help. Brown eyes met blue, sharing a silent word.
Harry tried to ignore this, introducing his irritation to his scowl. He thought they'd hit it off and become best friends real quick. And he huffed quietly in his chair.
Hem-hem.
Hermione and Ron didn't notice. "She's right, mate," Ron said, missing the flash of a scowl. "You're a terrible liar."
Harry sighed and allowed himself a second to shut his eyes. "Nothing has changed," he said quietly, opening his eyes to stare at them seriously.
Ron's eyes jumped back to his watch.
Hermione bit her lip. She squirmed in her chair, and Harry knew she had something to say.
"Don't," he croaked at her thickly. He thought he needed a cough drop.
Hermione didn't notice. "It's just… things have changed, Harry…"
"How so?"
Brown eyes met blue again, and Harry wanted to hop away.
Ron decided to take the bullet. "Ginny's gonna be there tonight… for dinner… at the Burrow," he said. He saw the unhappiness on Harry's face, but Ron didn't look too happy about this either. They silently agreed this was bad news. Ron sighed and Harry nodded his head in understanding. "She's moving back home," he finally said.
"And you're still joining us," added Hermione quickly.
Harry remained quiet; he felt he wanted to argue, but he had nothing to say. No argument came to his head. He too knew he couldn't back out. He had never missed a weekly dinner at the Burrow. His absence would cause worry. Always with the worrying. And he'd already informed Mr. Weasley that afternoon he'd be there. He sighed in resignation and tried to clear his throat.
Hem-hem.
"I'll be fine," he managed to croak. He knew he sounded pitiful, but he couldn't control the dread.
Hermione and Ron didn't notice. "Oh, Harry," said Hermione, looking sympathetic. "We'll be with you the whole time. We promise."
And though brown eyes met blue once more, Harry smiled gratefully. "I know you will. That's why I'll be fine."
Hermione squeezed Harry's pale, sweaty hand, and Ron seemed to have lightened up a bit. "Well, let's get going then. Are you ready?" he asked, looking directly at Harry. He noticed his friend's deeply purple bags. And he was unable to avert his eyes away from the distinct scar on his forehead. It stood out so much against Harry's pallid skin. Pink against white.
"Yeah," said Harry dully. They all got up to leave, making their way to the front door. He paused behind them to pull on his cloak.
Hem-hem.
"You sure you're okay?" Ron asked him. Hermione also stared, sending him a weak smile.
"Yes," said Harry, knowing he was lying. They knew he was lying too. They already established he was a terrible liar. "I'm okay." He lifted his glasses to his head, and rubbed tiredly at his eyes. It was going to be a long night.
Brown eyes met blue with worry. The other scar on Harry's hand did not go unnoticed. How jagged it looked. How distinct. Much like the one on his head, it stood out vividly amongst his skin. Pink against white.
I must not tell lies.