Chapter Fifteen

Reasonable Assumptions

"Reasonable. I'll show you reasonable!"

"Do calm down, Ginny."

"Shut up, Julius." She did a double-take. "What are you doing here? Aren't you supposed to be in court?"

"I just finished up, and heard the news."

"News," she repeated derisively. "It's not news. It's just trash."

"You seem to be expending a great deal of energy on trash today."

"What do you mean?"

"If it's not worth considering, why are you reading it and remarking on it?"

Ginny looked down at the magazine on her desk—which had a picture of Harry and Draco side-by-side, her husband's hand on Draco's shoulder while they looked at the three students laid out in the hospital wing (and how the hell had anyone gotten that picture, anyway?)—and back up at Julius, who was leaning in her doorway with his trademark lazy confidence. Ginny knew it was part of his act that made him so successful—anybody who looked so confident must know something you don't—but it was still effective, even on her. It made her not want to answer him. As did her anger over that picture. And the article.

"I will assume you don't believe it."

"Of course not. Merlin, Julius, I'm married to one of them. If anyone's in a position to know his sexual orientation, it's me."

"Maybe you're just not willing to believe it."

"What I'm not willing to believe, Julius, is that this Carthy bitch actually has a job." She shook her head slowly. "Something's really bothering me about this one. Something about the way it's written . . . I can't put my finger on it, but it's too fishy."

"She obviously has access to a lot of people at the school," Julius said.

"No she doesn't. It seems to me that she's got one person there—one who will snap photographs like this without caring if it hurts the families—and a whole lot of bravado. Look at who she came up with to interview . . ." Ginny narrowed her eyes. The people she had interviewed . . . something about that? Was that what was bothering her? She was trying so hard to think that Julius' next interruption caused her control to snap.

"She did ask people who knew them fairly well, though."

"Julius, I'm tired of this!" she shouted, slamming the magazine down. "You keep arguing her side because it'll finalize my divorce and you'll have a chance with me, but you need to get over yourself. It's not going to happen. Now would you please go away so I can think?"

Julius disappeared very quickly after that, but Ginny didn't have any time to feel remorse for breaking his heart so mercilessly. She quickly tried to reboard her train of thought. She'd been so close to realizing something.

"Ginny?"

"Gah!" she yelped in surprise, and turned to the fireplace. "Mom! How many times do I have to tell you, don't call me at work!"

"I'm sorry, sweetie. I just wanted to check on you. Are you okay?"

"Of course I am. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Oh, Ginny, I didn't know. This would be so hard to take, if it was me. Haven't you even heard . . .?"

"Mo-ther! You can't possibly believe that Harry, my husband, is gay!"

"No, of course not, dear," her mother replied, a confused frown on her face, and she scrambled to recover. "I just thought you might have a hard time coping with all the rumours."

"I'm doing fine," Ginny said viciously, obviously not fine at all but just as obviously not in the mood for any discussion of it. "Now I really have to get to work. Sorry, Mom. I'll see you this weekend."

"Okay, dear. Just don't let it get to you."

Ginny rolled her eyes impatiently and waited for her mother to say goodbye. Merlin's wrinkled old balls, but her mother was such a gossip-mongering snoop! If she hadn't interrupted, Ginny would probably have been able to put her finger on what was bothering her so much by now. She'd just returned to reading the article when she heard her name called from the fireplace again, this time a male voice.

"Dad!" she roared, turning around. "I said— Oh. Charlie. Hi."

"Hey, Sis. I just heard about that new article. You okay?"

She waved her hand dismissively. "I'm fine, really. I'm just trying to figure out something. Have you read this article?"

"Not personally."

She sighed in frustration. She could have used Charlie's brain. "Never mind, then."

"Sis, are you still eating and sleeping and all?"

"Yes, Charlie. Listen, I'll write to you later tonight, okay? I can't imagine how you found the time to set up a long-distance firecall . . ."

"Ginny. Do you have any idea what the date is today?"

"No, why?"

"It is November the twenty-sixth."

"Is it really?" she gasped. When did October end? Have I really been that busy?

"Ginevra Potter, you have been separated from your husband for over eight months. I don't think you've even talked to him. Let's not make it nine, huh? You call up that insensitive prat, tell him he's insensitive and that you're deeply wounded, and that for all that you miss him and want to be a family again. It's that simple."

"You'd like to think so, wouldn't you?" she said sourly.

"You know what I found the other day?"

"No, what?"

"A letter you wrote to me during your third year. You had been talking to that Durmstrang student who was from Romania and you wanted to tell me about some great camping spots."

"Oh, yeah," she recalled, and blushed. She might have flirted with him. Just a little bit. Well, he was foreign.

"You know what else you mentioned in that letter?"

"No, what?"

"Harry."

"Did I?"

"He was in the Tri-Wizard Tournament that year, remember?"

"Of course."

"You were telling me how he always kept so cool under pressure, how he bottled everything up and kept his feelings to himself so he could cope with everything."

"Oh."

"So I just thought I'd remind you that you knew exactly what you were in for, years before you married him," Charlie said cheerfully. "I'll let you get back to work, Sis."

"Charlie? Charlie?" He was gone. "Damn you, Charles Weasley." Then her eyes went blank, and she retreated into her memories of the past. She didn't know how long she sat like that, but she came back to herself very abruptly with a gasp of shock. "The Tri-Wizard Tournament. Skeeter. This woman reminds me exactly of Rita effing Skeeter." The mystery editor. It couldn't be . . . could it?

---Break---

Harry was playing on the rug in front of the fire with his kids and ignoring the stack of essays waiting for him when the fire sparked and popped and a head burst into being. He came to attention, thinking it might be Kingsley or Dan with information about Cross or his unidentified tutor. Then he blinked several times, surprised and wondering if she would still be there when his eyes opened.

"Ginny?"

"Hi, Harry."

"Mommy!" Charley shrieked in delight, and stretched out her hands toward the fire. Harry grabbed her, just in case. She knew that she couldn't touch anyone in the fireplace, but maybe she'd forget in her excitement over seeing Ginny.

"Hi, Mom; Hi, Mom; Hi, Mom," Sirius started chanting happily, until Ginny smiled at him.

"Hey, Crash."

"Ginny . . . it's great to hear from you. It's really great." Harry tried not to cry. She had no idea how great. Or maybe she did.

She looked past him into the room. "Malfoy's not there, is he?" she asked suspiciously.

Harry sighed, and slumped in disappointment. "Not you, too."

"Oh, Merlin, Harry, of course not. I just thought these things usually come from a grain of truth, like Malfoy actually being in your rooms a lot. I mean, Sirius and Charlotte have mentioned him to me. More than once."

Harry cuddled a suddenly placid Charley in his arms, she recoiling because she instantly assumed she was in trouble. He laid his cheek on top of her fiery head and sighed even deeper.

"Ginny . . . I need you to understand. I really don't care if anyone else does, but please don't jump on me for this. Draco is my friend. We really are friends now."

Surprisingly, Ginny didn't object, protest, or cry out in disgust. Well, when she was playing the role of The Harpy, she was defending the man, so why should it be so surprising? Maybe he was just too used to fighting with her.

"I . . . This is hard to say, but I think I'm glad. You don't really have a lot of close friends."

"I don't, do I?" he mused. He didn't usually dwell on the distance he kept between himself and his friends like Luna and Dan, but they didn't have the level he used to share with Hermione and Ron. Charlie had become a good friend over the years, of course, but he was family. "Well, in that case, this must be healthy for me."

"But Malfoy, Harry," she said, but she sounded like she was teasing.

"Well, even if that Wandwork article was a lot of bollocks, Wackerford got a couple of things right. Draco and I did go through a lot of similar things, and we've even been through some of them together. We had to start somewhere. Honestly, I never thought we'd be anything more than fellow professors. But like I said, Wackerford's not a complete idiot. The kids and Draco do get along, and that means a lot to me."

Ginny nodded, listening without really listening. She was obviously more focused on whatever she'd called to say. He was exceedingly grateful that she wasn't arguing with him about this. She even sounded genuine when she said she was glad.

"Did you need anything, Ginny?"

"Oh . . ." Now she looked truly uncomfortable. "Charlie had to remind me that November is almost over. I've been so busy with work and with . . . with . . ."

"With The Quibbler?" he prompted helpfully.

"I wondered if you'd noticed," she said, looking happier.

"Yes, I did. Ginny, if you're doing all that for me, why . . .?"

"Okay, so this is why I called. It's almost Christmas, Harry."

"I know."

"It's been almost nine months."

"I know."

"Are you doing okay?"

"No," he muttered, and the tears came on him so abruptly that he choked when he tried to speak. "No, none of us are." Suddenly, Crash was cuddled close to his side, clutching his arm. It made him choke all the more, moved beyond words that Sirius was always there to comfort him when he was sad.

"But you keep saying that you are."

"I thought you didn't really care."

Ginny face was frustrated and sad, just like his. Could it be that she wasn't happy, either? Did she miss him?

"Oh, Harry, we need to talk. We really need to talk."

"I know, Ginny. I'm so sorry. I really am. I've been such an amazing bastard to you, and I promise that if you want to talk, I'm really going to listen, and I'm going to tell you how I really feel, just like you wanted."

She smiled, but it looked like the trembling kind that might turn into crying at any moment. "I want to. I want to talk, and I want to see all of you."

"Really?" he breathed, squeezing Charley until she whined in protest.

"Harry . . . can we be together for Christmas? Just the five of us, at home, in Grimmauld Place? That way we can have a good holiday with the kids, and you and I will be able to talk. And I really miss being at home."

"I would really like that, Ginny," he said carefully. "I would like that very much."

"Good." Her smile became almost vicious, suddenly. "I have a few things to take care of now. Quibbler stuff. I'll see you soon."

"Mommy?" Charley spoke up, reaching out her hands pitifully.

"I love you, Charlotte. I'll see you soon. Crash, you be good for Daddy and don't give Headmistress McGonagall a heart attack, okay?"

"Okay," the little boy said solemnly.

When Ginny was gone, Sirius tried to crawl into his lap to share it with Charley. Harry didn't mind, even when Charley made an ugly noise of bratty protest. He held them both tight and breathed out a thank-you to whoever was listening.