Disclaimer: If you recognise it, it's not mine.
AN: This Ginny/Ginevra thing is feeling very weird. I think I just got used to the name Virginia because so many fanfic authors used it; if JKR says it's not her name there obviously aren't any instances of it in canon. Hmm.
Again, thank you thank you to reviewers!
I realised that I left out a couple of songs on the soundtrack post. Firstly - Always by Saliva, which is pretty much the theme song of the fic. Then there's Come Along by Titiyo, which for some reason I always think of as a Harry/Ginny song, and Tainted Love (the Marilyn Manson version), which is very Tom/Ginny. I can't remember whether or not I added Smile To Shine by Baz, but that's in it too.
I don't own any of the songs, but I highly recommend them.
Close Enough For Comfort.
Sunday morning dawned cold. Harry hadn't slept well; waking in the first cold light he couldn't see the point of going back to sleep. He dressed. Sat on his bed. Looked at the pages of Quidditch Through The Ages for a while in the pale light, unable to fix on the words.
"Hi," Ron whispered suddenly, red hair and red curtains.
"Morning," Harry said. The others slept on.
"What time is it?"
Harry shrugged. "Seven? I don't know."
When Ron was dressed they went down to the Common Room, empty but for a few early risers. A black-cloaked girl made her way out unobtrusively, and Harry recognised her as Melanie Hargreaves. Ron watched her go.
"They're sleeping together," he said.
Harry said, "Yeah."
Ron looked at him sideways. I think for a while I was happy, Harry thought, thinking it was Ginny's voice. Too much thinking all round. Maybe that was the problem.
"I'm sorry," Ron said awkwardly. "About Ginny. You know."
Harry didn't know what to say to that. "Oh. Me too."
That seemed to be enough. Hermione came down the stairs soon after, and they went down to breakfast.
Ginny was already there, and Harry was relieved to see that this morning she was eating – her plate appeared to hold a sticky mess, more syrup than pancakes. She didn't look at them when they sat down, but Ron and Hermione looked at her.
She hid her face behind her coffee cup.
Harry had a History of Magic essay half-written in his bag, which he set before him on the table. The current topic under discussion was anti-Muggle security through the ages.
The "miraculous" escapes of Empress Maud from her cousin King Stephen in the twelfth century were never seen as magical in nature. Discuss.
He had a few half-hearted sentences on the parchment. The problem, he thought, was that ruthless Maud and gregarious Stephen too often took the faces of other people. The Empress would escape over and over in his mind, over the snow with her wasted hands clutching at the folds of her Invisibility Cloak, and the King always seemed to greet the news with a laugh that sounded more like a bark than anything else.
He stared at the blank part of the parchment and absent-mindedly ate dry toast. Like a sick person. Seeing that empress fall and fall and fall, black hair streaked white over her face. The weak sunlight filtered from the ceiling of the Great Hall glinted off Ginny's red hair like a crown. Hermione nudged him gently, and he realised he'd been staring.
He shook himself. Shuffled his one piece of parchment and the salt shaker. Hermione was giving him a sympathetic look.
"Nothing," he mumbled, not quite knowing what he meant by it.
Ron, unexpectedly, seemed to be paying attention. "Sorry mate," he said again, awkwardly. Harry had to look away, afraid that it was only one small step from this to a pat on the back or even an uncomfortable one-armed hug. He didn't even know what the hell they were being so solicitous for anyway.
"Yeah," Harry said noncommittally, and applied himself to a cup of strong tea.
Ron and Hermione seemed to expect him to go off alone after breakfast, and having nowhere else to go he found himself standing invisible before the Boleyn portrait again.
The queen half-smiled at him. This one portrait didn't move, and in this castle full of bustling canvas activity the stillness in her huge black eyes was soothing. Was she aware, the way the others were aware? Harry remembered seeing an old movie once when he was younger, a pretty French actress playing the queen. She had had eyes like Ginny's, bright brown eyes. What he remembered best about the film, after all this time, was the swish of a sword and a short gasp.
It was all very tasteful. It was all very haunting.
He didn't know why he didn't want to go up those stairs.
When he knocked at Hargreaves' door, Ginny answered. She wore black again, her hair pulled back in a loose plait. Malfoy was kneeling in front of the fire, stabbing restlessly at it with a poker.
"We've got an idea," Ginny said, without preamble. "The diary's the only thing we have to go on, so we're going to try to get a look at it."
"I thought you said Lucius Malfoy had it last," Harry replied.
"Floo," said Malfoy tersely, before Ginny could say anything. "Get behind the door or something, Potter. I'm going to have a chat with my mother, and I'd much rather she didn't see you in my illicit love nest."
Harry put the Cloak back on, not caring enough to argue. Ginny smiled into the mirror, but though Malfoy looked at her she didn't look back.
"How's she going to see me if it's your head in the fire?" he asked suddenly.
"Idiot," Malfoy said, scribbling on a loose piece of parchment. "Do you have any idea what Malfoy Manor's like? Considering the hovels Gryffindors seem to inhabit, I doubt you do." Malfoy continued as if he hadn't said anything offensive at all. "Servants and hangers-on everywhere, it's a nightmare trying to have any kind of private conversation. How so many evil plots got hatched there, I'll never know."
Malfoy signed the parchment with sudden violence, folding it over on itself and sealing it with a few drops of candle wax. He looked into the fire for a long moment, then up at Ginny.
"On second thoughts, you'd both better leave. This conversation's going to be delicate enough without all the . . . Capulet-Montague bullshit," he said.
She shrugged coolly. "Fine with me. Half an hour suit you?"
"Fine."
Harry followed her down the secret stair and along corridors, down another set of stairs and into the Room of Requirement. She'd wanted it small and cozy, all cushioned armchairs and a crackling fire and a pot of hot chocolate steaming on a side table. It reminded him a little of the Burrow, and a lot of Ginny and Hermione's room at Grimmauld Place. For some reason, he'd expected something else.
He shrugged off the Cloak and sat, taking the cup of chocolate Ginny poured for him.
"Thanks."
"Welcome."
Their chairs were close together in the small room. Ginny was wearing that perfume he'd always liked, the one that smelled like ice cream, and Harry was suddenly aware that they were very much alone.
The fire crackled, and something popped in the flames.
"It's distasteful," Ginny said then, looking down into her cup. He blinked.
"What is?"
"Living with Malfoy. I – thought you should know."
He didn't know what to say for a long moment, then smiled. Ginny looked up, catching his eye. She smiled back.
"Thanks," he said.