Ginny yawned. She had been right; the day hadn't even started and she was already exhausted. The warmth radiating from the common room fireplace as she sat on the sofa waiting for Dean to appear wasn't helping either. That's what I get, she chided herself playfully, for having a nightmare and wandering the halls at ungodly hours chatting up the Headmaster.
"Ginny?" Startled, she looked up. Dean stood over her, carrying a heavy winter coat. Her body had just begun to give in to the seductive heat of the fire and she hadn't even heard him approach. "You all right?"
"Fine," she answered, blinking rapidly and rubbing her eyes, trying to rouse herself thoroughly. "Just a little tired."
"The wind and snow will wake you up. It's howling out there."
"Oh. Should we stay in, then?"
Dean grinned. "I don't think so," he said. "I've a big day planned for us."
He opened the portrait hole door, and then turned to Ginny, his hand extended to help her through. "Thanks," she said through a fixed smile, taking the offered help. She hated when he did that.
Down in the Great Hall, Dean chatted pleasantly over breakfast with Seamus, Neville, Lavender, and Parvati, not noticing Ginny's drooping eyelids, nor her chin dipping dangerously close to her eggs and oatmeal. It was only after her third cup of coffee that she began to feel even remotely like herself.
"Have a good time, you two!" Lavender said as she, Seamus, and Neville left for the entrance hall.
"Try your best, anyway," Parvati murmured under her breath to Ginny with a glance down the table before following after the others. With her coffee mug lifted halfway to her lips, Ginny looked down the Gryffindor table in the direction of Parvati's gaze, but the only ones left there were Harry, Ron, and Hermione, huddled together in their usual exclusionary group. In her sleep-deprived brain, she couldn't even begin to figure out what Parvati had been implying.
Seeing Harry, however, did jostle another memory.
"Ready to go?" asked Dean.
"One second," Ginny replied. "I just have to give Harry something."
"Harry? Now?" But she was already on her feet and moving down the table towards her brother and his two friends.
"We'd be best pals if they didn't keep trying to do me in," she heard Harry saying as she approached. Ron laughed and Hermione looked amused in spite of herself; idly, Ginny wondered if any other group of students joked about how often they found themselves close to death than these three.
"Hey, Harry," she said as he noticed her approaching, "I'm supposed to give you this."
She handed him the parchment that Dumbledore had given her. "Thanks, Ginny," he replied, unrolling it. Ginny felt only the slightest pang of guilt over having read it, but she quickly pushed that aside. The Headmaster, she reminded herself, had practically insisted she do so (though without actually saying it), for reasons unknown.
"It's Dumbledore's next lesson!" Harry said. "Monday evening! Want to join us in Hogsmeade, Ginny?"
That last had been unexpected, and not only to her, if the stunned look on Ron's face was any indication. Hermione, on the other hand, was peering intently at Harry, as if trying to make out something on his face that she had just now noticed was there. "I'm going with Dean," she answered him, "might see you there." And with a wave over her shoulder, she returned to Dean, standing at the doors to the entrance hall with just an air of impatience about him. To his credit, though, he seemed determined not to let anything take away from the day. "Ready, then?" he asked through a smile that seemed only a little forced.
"Ready!" Ginny said brightly, hoping inwardly that the coffee would keep her propped up long enough to make it through the day. With a nod and a smile, Dean grasped her hand, and led her to the oak front doors where Filch was performing security checks with a Secrecy Sensor. "Who cares," Ginny muttered, "what we're smuggling OUT? You think he'd be more concerned with what we're smuggling IN." Dean laughed, and before they knew it they were past Filch and out on the grounds.
Almost immediately Ginny wished they had stayed in the common room. The wind was whipping around a wicked combination of snow and sleet and they had to bend double to make any progress down the path to Hogsmeade at all. They were wrapped up so tightly in their coats and scarves as to be unidentifiable; if she hadn't known it was Dean with whom she left, Ginny would not have been able to tell just who she was on a date with.
The cold, at least, served to shock her awake. They shuffled along to Hogsmeade in silence; not by choice, but simply because they wouldn't have been able to hear each other if they tried. When finally reaching the town, Ginny noticed with some trepidation that Zonko's was closed. She tried to ignore the sudden sense of foreboding that fell over her. Clearly it was not just Diagon Alley where things were changing for the worse.
Honeydukes, thankfully, was open. Ginny tugged Dean on the sleeve and pointed towards the sweet shop, but he didn't seem to want to stop. Grabbing him firmly round the elbow, she very nearly dragged him out of the cold and into the sugar-sweetened air of the store.
"I'm sorry," she gasped, pulling off her scarf. "I just had to warm up for a second."
"S'alright," Dean replied, although he glanced towards the door as he did so. "We can take a bit of a rest. Wicked out, isn't it?"
They browsed for a bit through the shelves, Ginny smiling as they passed the Acid Pops, her thoughts drifting back to her peculiar yet oddly comforting conversation with Dumbledore this morning. She wasn't sure what, if any, good it had really done her, but a nagging thought in the back of her mind whispered that it had been more useful than she perhaps realized. Time would tell, she supposed.
She eventually picked out a box of homemade fudge that Dean insisted on buying for her. As he walked up to the counter to pay, Ginny yawned. The warm, sweet air in the shop seemed to be dragging her eyelids lower and lower, and she found herself almost longing for the bracing air of the blizzard outside. And if the threat of drifting sleep wasn't enough of a reason to get out of Honeydukes…
"Ginevra, m'lass!" boomed Professor Slughorn as he entered the shop, his great round belly preceding him by several moments. "We've missed you at our gatherings thus far!"
"Yes, Professor, sorry," she said hastily. She couldn't put her finger on it, but she still found there to be something just a bit… off… about Slughorn. "I've had Quidditch practice."
"And very unlucky you are for that," Slughorn gravely intoned, taking off a large furry hat that Ginny had upon first glance mistook for a dead animal of some sort. "I must have a word with that Captain of yours! I simply can not have another affair without Harry Potter in attendance… and you, of course, Miss Weasley."
"Of course, sir. I'll pass the message on to Harry."
"Good, good, see that you do. Our next get-together will be Monday, so if there is no Quidditch…"
"If there's no Quidditch I'll be there, Professor," Ginny said quickly. Inwardly, she grinned. She knew that the announcement of a Slug Club meeting meant that there would indeed be Gryffindor Quidditch practice on Monday evening, bad weather be damned.
"So, Miss Weasley, I'm curious," and at this, Slughorn leaned forward to whisper conspiratorially to her. "Did you ever figure out what it was you smelled in the vapors of Amortentia?"
Ginny shook her head. "No, Professor, I haven't." It was the truth, but the real truth was she hadn't really given it much thought lately, so busy had she been with fifth year schoolwork, Quidditch, and Dean.
"Ah, a pity!" he bemoaned, although his amused grin showed no real sign of pity about it, Ginny noted. "Do be sure to let me know if you should be struck with the realization, won't you? I would be most interested to know. Now," he concluded, straightening up, "if you'll excuse me, I believe I hear a box of crystallized pineapple calling my name." And with a congenial nod of his head he was off, squeezing past a returning Dean.
"What did Slughorn want?" Dean asked, clutching Ginny's fudge.
"Just wanted to invite me to another meeting of the Slug Club on Monday," Ginny answered, watching a grinning Slughorn speaking animatedly to the bored looking wizard behind the counter. She wasn't sure, but she was near certain the professor was explaining why he shouldn't have to actually pay for his pineapple.
"Ah," answered Dean tactfully. "Er… not to seem rude, Gin, but…"
"Why am I a member of the club?" Ginny finished for him. "No idea. It's either that bat-bogey hex I laid on Zacharias really, really impressed him, or…" she hesitated, but upon thinking about it, saw no reason to avoid mentioning it. "I think it's because I remind him of an old favorite student of his."
"Who's that?"
"Harry's mum, actually," Ginny replied, peering out at the blizzard framed in the window. "I've seen pictures, and I don't think we look that much alike, but you know some people: seen one redhead, seen 'em all." She glanced at Dean, whose mouth had dropped from a grin to more of a grimace and who had also directed his gaze outside into the wintry mess blowing around. Ginny had the feeling he wasn't looking outside so much as he was not looking at her. "Anyway," she continued, "I won't have to go, of course, because the moment I tell Harry that the meeting is Monday night, he'll schedule Quidditch practice and we'll…"
She stopped. No, he wouldn't. Harry already had an excuse to not go to Slughorn's Monday night party and Ginny knew because she had delivered him the invitation herself, an invitation she had snuck a look at. Harry had lessons with Dumbledore on Monday.
Which meant she no longer had an excuse not to be there.
Which Slughorn would surely realize.
Which meant she was going to have to go.
She closed her eyes and groaned. "What's the matter?" Dean asked, turning back to her.
"I just realized that I have to go to the stupid bloody party."
"But you just said…"
"I know, but there won't be practice, because Harry has to… " she checked herself; something told her Dumbledore didn't want the whole school to know what was in that note. "Harry has plans," she amended.
Dean shoved his hands in his pockets. His grimace grew more pronounced. "Know his whole schedule, do you?"
"No," Ginny retorted. What is THAT supposed to mean? "I just happen to know that on Monday night, he has something else to do."
A dangerous silence hung between them for a moment. Ginny realized she had two choices: let it descend, or lighten the mood. As she was trying desperately to be a good girlfriend for a change, she chose the latter.
"Although if you wanted to figure out Harry's schedule," she added, mock-thoughtfully, "it shouldn't be too difficult. One o'clock: whisper with Ron and Hermione. Two o'clock: save world. Three o'clock: whisper some more with Ron and Hermione. Four o'clock: save world again, with Ron and Hermione."
For a long second, it didn't work. Then Dean smirked and laughed. "Right," he agreed. "You can set your watch by it, can't you?"
They laughed together, for which Ginny was grateful. The last thing she wanted was for this date to blow up in their faces. "Shall we go, then?" she asked brightly, wrapping her scarf around her face and bracing for the cold.
Back outside, it seemed as though the icy chill whirling around had only intensified. Together they plowed through the snow, Ginny fixing whatever gaze she had to the warm light emanating from the windows of the Three Broomsticks. She was beginning to genuinely look forward to it… a cozy corner both, a warm Butterbeer, perhaps some kissing… or a lot of it…
Headed towards the pub, she felt a tug on her arm. She looked back at Dean, who shook his head and pointed further down the road.
"Not the Three Broomsticks?" Ginny asked, practically having to shout to be heard over the wind.
"No! This way!" Dean shouted back, grinning again under his scarf. He turned and continued on, a confused Ginny hurrying to keep up. If they weren't going to the Three Broomsticks, where were they going? The Hogs Head? No, that couldn't be it…
Oh, no.
No.
Sweet Merlin, no.
With a sinking feeling in her stomach Ginny realized where they were headed, each step confirming her fears just a little bit more, and when they turned up the quiet side road there was no longer any doubt. Dean opened the front door of their destination and helped Ginny into a room that looked as much like a ball of cotton candy as it did a tea shop. Shutting the door behind them, he asked, "Have you been to Madam Puddifoot's before?"
"No," Ginny lied. She had been, of course. Michael had brought her the year prior, but that wasn't a topic she much felt like exploring with Dean. One only came to Madam Puddifoot's to hide in the vapors and snog, hardly a memory she thought appropriate to share with her current boyfriend (although she did wonder how and with whom HE had discovered the shop). Truth be told, she and Michael hadn't done much of anything romantic in the brief time they had spent here, as Ginny had laughed them straight out of the ridiculous place. That, really, had been the beginning of the end for she and Michael Corner.
And now she was back, and it was just as awful as she remembered, with soft firelight casting flickering illumination on scattered pairings of romantically entwined Hogwarts students. Dean led them through the tight quarters to an empty table. "It's not my usual cup of tea," he said, chuckling at his own joke. "But it really is… romantic… don't you think?"
I will not laugh, I will not laugh, I will not laugh…
"Yes, terribly," Ginny agreed through a stiff smile. She glanced around, almost offended that in the past year nobody had thought to improve the décor: the bows, the frills, the tiny round tables with the gold chairs, the steam… oh, the steam… it was all still there, just as she remembered it. Terrible, she thought.
She was so stupid… how could she not have seen this coming? It was so obvious, but on the other hand she just couldn't imagine in a million years that anyone would CHOOSE to come to this place. If she had only thought about it for a second, anticipated it, maybe she could have headed this off at the pass, dropped hints about how awful she thought tea shops were… but it was too late now, and Dean was already making gooey eyes at her across the table, reaching for her hand, and all she wanted to do was make inappropriate jokes about the offensive overuse of glitter and pink in their surroundings.
The worst of it, though, was they had been in the overheated confines of the shop for only a minute and she could already feel the need for sleep dancing around the edge of her consciousness.
"It's a charming place," Dean continued, oblivious to Ginny's revulsion to the cozy confines in which they were now thoroughly ensconced.
"Mm-hmm!" Ginny responded with false enthusiasm, still forcing a smile.
"What'll it be, m'dears? My, aren't you an attractive pair!" said Madame Puddifoot as she squeezed up to their table, her black hair in its usual bun, her lace apron stiff and white.
"Two coffees," said Dean.
"And I will also have two coffees," Ginny said, stifling a yawn.
Dean laughed, and Madame Puddifoot said gently, "I believe he meant to order your coffee, dearie."
"Oh, yes, of course!" Ginny said, shaking her head and trying to clear it. It was just so warm in here…
"Don't worry," Madame Puddifoot said with a wink as she left their table, "I'll make yours a double." As soon as she was out of earshot, Dean reached across the table and took up Ginny's hand again.
"Ginny," he said quietly. "I just want you to know how much I've enjoyed our time together so far."
"Oh… yes!" Said Ginny, nodding earnestly. "So have I, Dean!"
"You know… I'm almost embarrassed to say it… but I admired you for quite a long time, and I was nervous, I'll admit, to ever approach you, as Ron and I are dorm mates, and sometimes… well, sometimes blokes get funny about their mates trying to date their sisters."
"Mm-hmm," Ginny agreed. She was finding it increasingly difficult to focus on anything except how heavy her head seemed to be getting. Did they ever turn the heat down in this place? Dean was still talking, and she suddenly realized she had missed a few sentences. Taking a deep breath and opening her eyes wide, she tried to refocus.
"… so I knew when you ditched Michael… I just knew that if I didn't say something to you, at least see how you felt, that I'd regret it. So I did, and thankfully Ron took it very well, I think."
"Oh, yes," Ginny murmured. "Very well." Her chin was now resting in her free hand; surely no harm could come from that. Already her head felt lighter… so much lighter…
"… and you know, Ginny," Dean was finishing up shyly, "I really feel like this, you and I… I really feel like this could be the start of something special."
"Oh, yes," Ginny agreed, not entirely sure of what she was agreeing to. It was so warm and quiet in here… she couldn't remember what she had ever disliked about this place before… it was so cozy… wait… why was Dean closing his eyes and leaning towards her? Oh, Merlin, he was going to kiss her! Quickly, Ginny closed her own eyes, and their lips met… softly, very softly, terribly pleasant… she could certainly get used to kissing Dean, she realized… it was not unlike falling gently… falling gently, warmly, and settling into a cloud… she was settling… settling… settling…
THUMP!
With a gasp, Ginny awoke and pulled her head up from the table. Dean was staring at her in stunned silence. Her head was swimming…. what had just happened…?
"Did you…" Dean choked out the words disbelievingly. "Did you just fall asleep while we were kissing?"
With a horrible dawning realization, Ginny realized she had. "Dean," she said, her face growing red with embarrassment. "Oh, Dean, I'm so sorry. I… "
But Dean stood up, an angry expression on his face, grabbed his coat and stormed out of the shop, jostling a couple near the door as he exited. "Dean, wait!" Ginny called after him… but he was gone. From over her shoulder, Madam Puddifoot placed two mugs on the table.
"Coffee black, m'dear," she said. "But I reckon it's a bit too late for you, eh?"
With a groan, Ginny grabbed her own coat and hurried out the door. Dean was marching away through the snow. "Dean, wait!" she cried, desperate to be heard over the wind. He stopped and she hurried towards him, his back still to her.
"Dean, I'm sorry!" Ginny apologized. "I couldn't sleep last night. I had a nightmare and I spent half the night wandering the halls of the castle, and…"
Dean spun to face her. "You know," he cut her off, "I spent a lot of time planning this."
"I do know," Ginny replied, "but to be fair, it's not as though you actually had to plan a lot, is it? We just had to show up at Madam Puddifoot's, didn't we?" She realized the moment she said it that this was probably exactly the wrong thing to say.
"Oh, were my plans not good enough for you?" Dean asked hotly. Ginny shuffled her feet.
"I'm not saying that, but… "
"No, go on, you can say it! You were bored out of your mind! You were drowsing off from the moment we sat down!"
"That wasn't because of you!" Ginny protested, her own temper beginning to rise. "I didn't sleep last night, if you'd listen to me! And then you brought me to this sauna… well, what did you expect to happen?"
"I'm supposed to know you didn't sleep last night? I'm not psychic, you know."
"I know," said Ginny trying to stay calm. "Of course I know, but… Dean… it's Madame Puddifoot's. Come off it, Dean, it's a deathtrap in pink! I would never voluntarily have come back here!"
"So you lied to me?" Dean demanded. "You have been here before?"
"Of course I have! Honestly. Michael brought me. Oh, don't you look so put out. You've been here, too!" Ginny shot back at him. "I don't expect it was with Seamus, either. I don't even care! Where are you going?"
Dean had turned on his heel and was tromping off angrily back in the direction of school, leaving Ginny behind at the entrance to Madam Puddifoot's.
"I suppose that's the end of our date, then!" she shouted after him, doubtful he could hear her through the wind. If he could, he gave no indication, and was soon lost in the obscuring blanket of wind-whipped snow.
"Bloody prat," Ginny swore under her breath. This one was not her fault. Yes, she fell asleep in the middle of their date, while Dean was kissing her no less, but he overreacted! Completely overreacted! Well, mostly. If only he'd given her a chance to explain… but, she thought to herself, I wouldn't have, would I? I'm not likely to be telling Dean of my recurring nightmares about the Chamber of Secrets. This was not something Ginny shared with anyone, and she certainly wouldn't share it with her still relatively new boyfriend, not if she didn't want to scare him off.
Ginny was forced to begrudgingly accept that this debacle, while not entirely her fault, was at least partially her fault. And now here she was, standing alone outside of this wretched haunt of sweethearts, beginning to feel about as pathetic as she could.
She refused to let that feeling overtake her. She headed out, not in any particular direction, but determined to enjoy her day in Hogsmeade, howling wind and snow and all. She wandered stubbornly from store to store, from Scrivenshaft's to Gladrags to Dervish and Bangs, each one more utterly boring than the last, until she began to feel as though she were a first-year all over again, friendless and alone.
Except she wasn't. Harry had invited her out, hadn't he? With a nod of encouragement to herself, she stomped off towards the Three Broomsticks where she assumed Harry, Ron, and Hermione would be ensconced, as usual. She would just join them, Ron's complaints be damned. And if they weren't there, certainly some other friends of hers would be. She was, after all, extremely popular (not that such things were important to her) and she was now determined to have a good time in spite of how horribly her date with Dean had gone.
That'd show him.
She pushed open the door to the Three Broomsticks, a smile forced onto her face, determined to show Harry and the others what a good time she was ready to have… but they were not there. Her smile faltered. Clearly Ron, Hermione, and Harry were off having some adventure or another, and she had been given a handwritten invitation to join them… but she had turned it down so she could go on the worst date recorded history had ever borne witness to.
Her spirit deflated completely. It had been an utterly depressing day. While the bar was emptier than it normally would have been, no doubt due to the blizzard raging outside, the Creevy brothers were there, along with Natalie, and there was Luna in a corner both, swaying gently and humming to herself. Ginny, however, suddenly lost the urge to spend time with or speak to anyone else. Luna noticed her and waved her over, but Ginny pretended not to understand, waving back and turning right around and walking out the door, out of town, back up the path to school, into the entrance hall, up to Gryffindor Tower, through the portrait hole, through the common room, up to her dormitory, barely pausing long enough to take off her wet coat and shoes before collapsing onto her bed, drawing the curtain back around her, finally and blissfully succumbing to exhaustion.
She woke with a start what seemed like mere minutes later. For a moment she sat and stared straight ahead, her brain struggling to wake up alongside of her body. Had that awful day been a dream? She pulled the curtain to her bed aside.
"Hey, lazy bones, you finally woke up." It was one of her dorm mates, sitting on the bed across from her, reading some witch's fashion magazine. "You slept right through dinner. What happened, did Deany wear you out?"
Ginny ignored that last. "Dinner's over?" she said sleepily, rubbing her eyes.
"Just about," the girl responded. "If you hurry, you might be able to catch the last of it." She turned her nose back into her magazine, effectively ending the conversation.
Ginny sat on her bed a few more moments. She didn't necessarily feel like speaking to anyone at the moment but she realized that she hadn't eaten anything since breakfast and she was starving. Fortunately, if dinner was near its end, maybe that meant she could find an empty spot on the bench and just eat there by herself. She had done it enough first and second year; shouldn't be that much harder now. She hopped out of bed, freshened up, and hurried down the steps to the common room, crossing it quickly. Ron and Hermione sat together in a corner, whispering to each other. As she reached the portrait hole, she heard Hermione call out after her, "Ginny! There you are! Come over!" but she ignored the older girl. Ginny was really not in the mood to talk to anybody, not about her date, not about anything.
She hurried down to the Great Hall. As she had guessed, there were but a few stragglers left at the Gryffindor table. What she wouldn't have guessed was Harry was among them, looking quite as put out as she felt.
She had fully intended to come down here and eat alone. She had fully intended not to look at anyone, not to talk to anyone, to eat, and then go back to her room and go to bed. And yet before she even realized it was happening, her legs had carried her to a spot at the table directly across from Harry.
"Mind if I join you?" she asked.
Harry looked up from his thoughts and his treacle tart, surprised to see her. "Oh… Ginny! Hi. Yeah, sure, sit." She did.
Harry's attention returned to the act of disinterestedly pushing the tart around on his plate with his fork. Ginny reached at one of the few trays of actual food still hiding among the desserts, loading up a plate with chicken and carrots. They sat like that in silence for a few moments, she eating dinner and he playing with his dessert, when Ginny spoke up. "You've looked better."
Harry nodded slowly, without looking at her. "It's been a long day," he said.
"I know what you mean," Ginny agreed. "Still, it's a bit peculiar seeing you eating without Ron and Hermione. Something happen?"
"We had a bit of a row. They don't agree with me over who gave Katie the necklace."
"Someone gave Katie a necklace?" Ginny said in surprise. She hadn't heard about anyone fancying Katie. Usually she was fairly good at keeping an ear out for gossip nobody wanted anyone else to know; she was, after all, a little sister. "Who are the suspects?" she asked.
"I think Draco Malfoy," Harry said darkly. "Your brother and Hermione don't."
Ginny was taken aback. The Draco she knew would step on a Gryffindor as soon as fancy one, and she couldn't imagine him showing interest like that in Katie. "I hardly think it could have been Draco Malfoy, Harry. Doesn't that seem like a bit of a stretch?"
"Oh, you agree with them, do you?" Harry said with a scowl.
"I can't believe you don't," Ginny replied hotly, her own mood not giving her a high tolerance for the foul one Harry seemed to be sporting. "On what planet does Draco Malfoy fancy Katie Bell?"
Harry looked at her. "Fancy her?" he asked confusedly. "What do you mean?"
"Well, why else would someone give her a necklace?"
Harry stared blankly at Ginny for a moment, as though he didn't understand the words coming out of her mouth. Finally, he spoke. "How much have you heard about what happened today?"
Ginny suddenly fell under the impression that she had heard very little. "What happened today?" she asked with a growing sense of dread.
And Harry explained to her about Katie and the cursed necklace, the one that, when she had touched it, had caused her to rise up gracefully into the air, how he and Ron had to drag her back to the ground where she writhed and screamed until Hagrid arrived to pick her up and run her off to the hospital wing, how Katie had been Imperiused into carrying the necklace to give to somebody else up at the school, and how Hermione had seen that very necklace earlier in the year in Diagon Alley, at Borgin and Burkes…
"… and I saw it, too," he finished, growing more animated as the story continued. "I saw it ages ago, and I saw Malfoy staring at it and smiling at the card when he read how it was cursed and had killed a bunch of Muggles who had touched it, back when I accidentally Flooed into Borgin and Burkes before my second year, your first… I mean, my second year." He glanced at her uneasily, realizing he had inadvertently mentioned what Ginny liked to half-jokingly call "the lost year", as nobody ever mentioned THAT year around her if they could help it.
"My first year," she finished for him. "I remember, mum was frantic looking for you, dragging me around Diagon Alley." She nodded. "I could see Malfoy doing something like that."
Harry's eyes lit up. "Right!" he said. "Ron and Hermione say he's too young to work for Voldemort, but I don't think so!"
"Neither do I," Ginny agreed. "After all, Tom was evil as a student. Why wouldn't he expect others to be as well? That's their only reason for saying it couldn't have been Malfoy?"
"No," Harry admitted. "Malfoy had detention today, with McGonagall. He couldn't have been in Hogsmeade."
"Oh," said Ginny. "I guess he's out, then."
"He could have given it to somebody else to do it!" Harry insisted. "Crabbe, or Goyle!"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "Those half-wits?" she scoffed. "I wouldn't trust them to execute a simple levitation charm, let alone Imperius a seventh-year honor student. No, Harry, I'm sorry, but Ron and Hermione have a point."
Harry turned away from her, sinking down into his funk again. "Oh, come on," she teased him. "It wasn't a bad idea. It's just impossible. Will Katie be all right?"
Harry nodded. "They think she will be," he said. "She only touched a tiny bit of the necklace. It may be awhile before she gets back, though."
They fell into a silence, Ginny's thoughts straying to Katie as she chewed. It took so little sometimes to put things in perspective, and her own tragedies of just hours before suddenly seemed trifling by comparison. In spite of everything she had just learned, Ginny could not help but to chuckle. Harry looked at her, confused. "What's so funny?"
Ginny shook her head. "Nothing, really. Just can't believe I thought you thought Malfoy had given Katie a necklace as a gift. Malfoy cursing Katie makes more sense than Malfoy fancying Katie."
A small smile played on Harry's lips as well. "I don't imagine that a Gryffindor Quidditch player is Malfoy's type."
"I should hope not!" Ginny shuddered. "Ugh, can you imagine? Dating Malfoy?"
"I can not," said Harry with a smile.
"Good," smiled Ginny. "Neither can I. I can think of nobody whom I would ever find more repulsive, frankly."
"Good," repeated Harry, with an approving nod.
"Oh, really?" she cast Harry a teasing glance. "Jealous, Potter?"
"Hardly," he scoffed. "I'm just a bit protective of my best mate's sister, that's all."
"So you'd let Hermione date Malfoy?"
Harry shook his head. "I can't decide," he said thoughtfully, "what's more of an unnatural, awful, detestable, doomed-to-failure pairing: Malfoy and you, or Malfoy and Hermione."
"The only question," agreed Ginny, "is which of us would kill him faster."
Harry laughed, and then gave her a sideways glance. "Ah… speaking of dates," he began, growing only a bit red as he did so, "how was yours? With Dean?" With a groan, Ginny buried her head in her hands. "Wow, that good?" Harry asked. "What happened?"
"It's all my fault," Ginny said aloud, realizing as she said it that it was, it truly was. Merlin, she was going to have to go find Dean and apologize, wasn't she? "Dean took me to Madam Puddifoot's."
"Oh, no."
"You've been?"
"I have. With Cho." Harry gave her a wry smile. "It did not go well."
"Couldn't have gone as badly as my date," Ginny replied, closing her eyes in embarrassment.
"How badly could it have gone?"
"How badly?" repeated Ginny. "How badly? I'll tell you how badly. I fell asleep."
Harry just stared at her for a moment, as though not understanding what she had said. "You… you fell asleep?"
"Yes," she grumbled. He didn't have to rub it in…
"Really?"
"Yes!"
Harry chuckled. Just a bit. Then a bit more, and a bit more, and a bit more, until he was fairly roaring with laughter. Ginny thought she had never seen him laugh quite so hard, and it was infectious. Within moments, unable to help herself, she had joined in with him, and the two of them sat there for a full minute, laughing as hard as they were able, drawing more than a few stares.
"How… how did you manage that?" Harry finally asked as the laughter subsided into giggles.
"It's so warm in there!" Ginny protested. "And the steam, and the vapors, not to mention I barely slept last night."
"Maybe he didn't notice," Harry offered as he dug back into his tart.
"Oh, he noticed," Ginny retorted. "He'd very well have to, as it happened mid-kiss."
Harry choked on his tart at this, and it took several hard whacks on the back before he was able to speak again. "It didn't!" he said in astonishment, looking as though he may explode with laughter again.
"It most certainly did," said Ginny, unable to keep from smiling at the absurdity of it all.
"Poor Dean. No offense."
"No, poor Dean is right," Ginny agreed. "I completely understand him being out of sorts, much as I hate that dreadful place and can't imagine anyone in their right mind choosing to go there."
"I agree," Harry said with a nod.
"So. What about you?" Ginny asked, taking a forkful of chicken. "What was your terrible Madam Puddifoot experience?"
Harry snorted. "I'd rather not relive it," he replied.
"Unfair!" Ginny protested. "I told you mine!"
"True enough," agreed Harry with a smile. "All right, how's this? We talked about Quidditch first…"
"No problem there," Ginny cut in. "I do hope Dean realizes quickly he's dating a girl who'd rather spend the day in Quality Quidditch Supplies as opposed to Madam Puddifoot's. So what happened after the Quidditch conversation?"
"Well, we really didn't have much to say to each other," Harry said with a shrug. "It's tough to remember, exactly. There were lots of, just, awkward silences, and I think we talked a bit about how awful Umbridge was…" he paused, then took a deep breath. "And then I told her I had to go meet Hermione and I asked her to come along."
Ginny was confused. "Hermione needed to meet you? On the day you were going out with Cho? Why?"
"That's when I did the interview for 'The Quibbler'. With Rita Skeeter. Hermione set that up."
"Oh!" said Ginny, with a nod of realization. "That makes sense. All right. So when did things go wrong with Cho? Or did I miss something?"
"It started there," Harry replied. "Cho thought I was meeting Hermione for a date."
"You and Hermione?" asked Ginny, stunned. "She thought you were going on a date with Hermione? That's… I mean, that's… well, the girl is just delusional. No other word for it. Delusional. How could anyone think that?"
"Dunno," shrugged Harry. "That wasn't the end of it, though."
"No? What was?"
"She asked about Cedric," he said matter-of-factly, studying the last few bites of tart left on his plate. "She wanted to know if he had mentioned her before he died."
That sat in the air for a moment. Finally, Ginny muttered, "Wow. Bad form, Cho Chang."
"I don't know," said Harry, looking to her. "I still think your Madam Puddifoot experience was probably worse."
Ginny shook her head slowly. "I wish it had been. But I don't think it was."
For a minute or two, they sat there together, she eating her dinner and he finishing his dessert, neither of them saying a word. Eventually, Harry looked at her. "So why didn't you sleep last night?"
"I had a nightmare," said Ginny simply.
"The Chamber?"
"Yep."
Harry nodded as though he understood, which, she realized, he likely did. Together they sat in silence, she finishing her dinner and he his dessert. As she glanced at Harry and he at her, a knowing smile and nod shared between them, she realized with great surprise that this particular silence was not awkward at all.