The Hog's Head

by MyGinevra

The Hog's Head is an unabashed romance that follows the lives of Harry and Ginny from the Battle of Hogwarts through the following year. Chapter One, "Faith," begins during the Battle as Lord Voldemort calls his truce. It follows canon precisely but from Ginny's point of view. My own plot, post-DH, begins with Chapter Two, "Anticipation."

25. The Pit

Chapter Twenty-Five

The Pit

The entire school was at a high pitch of excitement on the day of the first Quidditch match. Last year's matches were universally considered a joke, since Muggle-borns had been barred from school and the Carrows had tried to control the teams because they were hotbeds of rebellion. Most people also thought that the Quidditch Cup was now up for grabs since Harry Potter was gone from Hogwarts. All the present Seekers were judged to be pretty even, although most conceded that Ginny Weasley had an edge in experience. But that was counter-balanced by the Gryffindor Keeper's complete lack of experience and, by many accounts, his total incompetence.

Ginny was nervous at breakfast, but when the twins entered she started laughing and couldn't stop. They were both wearing full griffin costumes, and someone had charmed their voices so that they spoke only in screeches, growls and roars, which sounded rather strange coming from their beaks. Their tails swished vigorously except when they got tangled together, at which times the girls had to yank them apart, all the while screeching, growling and snarling. Soon the entire Gryffindor table was laughing and cheering. Ginny and the rest of the team left and trooped down to the stadium in high spirits.

The stands were starting to fill, and Ginny went out on the pitch to look around. She saw Harry sitting with her family and they all waved to her. She blew Harry a kiss and he smiled; George said something to him and Ginny could see him blush even from a distance.

She had not stayed at the flat last night, since she wanted to eat breakfast with the team; she did have dinner with Harry, though, and he had made an effort to be pleasant. He hadn't heard about the professional scouts who would be at the match, and when Ginny told him, he became quiet. She asked him if anything was wrong.

"Nothing," he mumbled. "It's really great that they'll get to see you play."

"I'll miss you tonight."

Harry sighed. "I'll miss you too." He perked up a little. "I'll be sitting with your family just below the Gryffindor section. Ron said that Fleur is starting to look pregnant."

Ginny grinned. "And did you hear? The Healer said her due date is May second, the anniversary of the battle. Bill said that if the baby is born that day, they'll name her Victoire. Harry, that's a tribute to you."

He laughed, which he hadn't done all evening, and she smiled back. "But," he said, "if they really want to do that, they should name her Harriet."

"I think Fleur wanted a heroic name. Besides, Harriet would have an uncle Harry, and that might confuse her when she's little."

Harry nodded, but didn't smile. They finished without talking much, and Harry walked her back to the castle, where they said goodnight in the entrance hall. It was the first Friday in three months that they hadn't spent the night together, and Ginny wanted to say something about it, but Harry was distant and moody, so they kissed and Harry walked out the doors. Ginny watched him for a moment and, with a heart that was not light, put him in a corner of her mind and told herself to think about nothing but Quidditch.

So now it was the morning of the match, and she snapped out of her reverie when Jimmy Peakes called to her from the tunnel. After another quick wave to her family, Ginny went back into the dressing room and was glad to see Ron sitting next to Dennis, but with a sinking feeling she recognized the sickly look on Dennis's face; she had seen it often on Ron's. Her brother had his arm draped over the Keeper's shoulder and was speaking to him quietly. Dennis glanced up when Ginny came in and tried to smile.

"Please get the Snitch as fast as you can," he said. "I don't want to be barfing all over the crowd for too long."

Ron looked up and grinned. "This is my kind of Keeper. He has a sense of humor and he's considerate of others."

Ginny patted Dennis's arm. "Don't worry, just do your best and leave the rest to us." It was lame, but she couldn't think of anything else to say. They all finished dressing and walked out onto the pitch.

Ginny felt a rising surge of anticipation as she looked over the Slytherin team standing across from them around Madam Hooch. Their Seeker, Ophiucus Paltrey, was a wiry and strong sixth-year, but Ginny knew he was afraid of physical contact up in the air. She didn't know much about the others since everyone else from last year had finished or not returned to school. They had the same Slytherin attitude, though, not bothering to hide their sneers and snide comments.

"How's Potter?" one of the Beaters, Matilda Malfoy, asked; she was a hefty, distant cousin of Draco's. A few of the other Slytherins guffawed, and Ginny stared back at the girl, wondering if she meant anything other than the obvious innuendo. But Madam Hooch was speaking, and Ginny turned her attention back to the match. Hooch released the balls, paused a few seconds, and blew her whistle.

Ginny kicked off and soared into the sky. She felt liberated, not only from the ground but also from all her problems down there. The wind whipped through her hair, which she had pulled back with a clip, leaving it free to stream after her. The crowd's roar grew fainter as she flew higher, circling and searching for the Snitch. She watched her team attack the Slytherin goal and quickly score twice. After the second goal Demelza grinned up at her and raised her thumb high above her head; Ginny knew that it was an acknowledgment of her coaching. The Chasers were flying with confidence, and the Slytherin defense was no match for their smooth and well-honed attack.

Gryffindor pulled steadily ahead. It was fortunate, though, that the Quaffle was at the Slytherin end most of the time, because whenever Slytherin did break through, all Dennis did was wave at the Quaffle on its way to the hoop. Ginny could see him becoming more and more uncertain with each shot. After one particularly pathetic attempt at a save where the Quaffle actually went between his legs—something Ginny had never seen before—she flew down to him.

"Relax, Dennis!" she shouted over the cheers and jeers of the Slytherin supporters. "We're going to win, so stop trying so hard. Just remember what Ron showed you." She could tell from his glassy-eyed stare that nothing she said would help, so she pulled away.

At that moment there was a change in the crowd noise, and Ginny knew that Paltrey had spotted the Snitch. She twisted around and saw him diving towards the center of the pitch. She instinctively shot in the same direction, even though she didn't see the winged ball yet. Suddenly her broom turned, seemingly of its own accord and veered towards the Slytherin end. Ginny realized that the Slytherin Seeker had tried to decoy her. Paltrey also veered as soon as he saw that his tactic had failed, but it was too late. Ginny saw the Snitch hovering above the wall near the goal posts; she accelerated at a speed that startled even her and beat him to it by a good ten yards.

The Gryffindor section cheered, but the match had been so lopsided that most of the crowd just got up and started to leave. There were even some boos and whistles from the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff students. Ginny looked up at the stands from the celebration in the middle of the pitch to wave to her family, but her hand stopped in mid-air.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Bill, and George were pushing through the crowd towards the exit; her parents, Percy, and Fleur were watching them anxiously. Her mother turned to the pitch, and Ginny saw her worried look. Molly shook her head at Ginny and pointed towards Hogsmeade, and Ginny guessed with a feeling of dread that something had happened at the inn.

She handed her broom to Demelza and left the celebration at a run. She tore out of the stadium and saw Harry as he and the others were running across the grounds towards the gates. She went after them at a trot, but had to slow to a walk near the train station when her breath gave out. Clusters of people stood in the street and in doorways, looking up the High Street. She started running again, but when she turned into the lane next to Dervish and Banges and saw the inn, she stopped.

The kitchen window on the second floor was broken in; all the panes of glass were shattered. She walked slowly down the lane, and as she looked up, saw that all the windows on the second floor were blown in. A large crowd was milling about in front of the door, many of them with their wands drawn, looking up.

Ginny felt a pang of fear. Bill and George were standing just outside the door, and Ginny pushed through the crowd, which parted for her; several people touched her shoulder and said her name as she passed.

"What happened?" she asked Bill. "Was anyone hurt?"

His face was grim and angry. "I don't think anyone was up there. Harry's owl just flew back. If it had been inside, it probably would have been killed."

There was a commotion at the back of the crowd. Saliyah Ushujaa and Morequest Pester were trying to get through, but angry people blocked their way.

"Where the hell have the Aurors been?" one wizard shouted. "Someone could have been killed!"

Another wizard stuck his flushed face in front of Saliyah. "You think we're a bunch a' stupid country hicks up here! Don't Harry Potter deserve a little help from the Ministry?"

The Auror put her hand up as more shouts and epithets were hurled at her. "That's exactly why we're here," she said calmly. "We have not been ignoring you. We have had an Auror watching the inn for several weeks, and—"

"You mean this sod?" The first wizard pointed at Pester. "Stick one of your Sneakoscopes up in the room over the Post Office. He's shacking up with that Turquoise tart, the same one that's been stalking Harry."

For an instant Saliyah's eyes narrowed, then she stared at the man until he turned away, and walked past him to the door. Pester followed, looking straight ahead but when he passed Ginny his eyes flicked to hers.

"What are you laughing at," George asked her.

Ginny watched Pester enter the dining room. "The Defense Against the Dark Arts curse strikes early this year. He's not even going to last three months." George snorted, and he and Bill went inside with Ginny.

The dining room was intact, and Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. Stan was behind the bar, his wand on the counter, speaking to the two Aurors—or to Saliyah, more exactly; Professor Pester stood behind his boss, staring blankly at one of the bar stools. Winky and Kreacher were huddled fearfully next to the kitchen door. The door was open, and Ginny could see Hermione standing just inside, her back to them. Harry must be upstairs, Ginny supposed, but she wasn't sure if she should go to him. That reluctance, she realized bitterly, was the result of the way Harry had been treating her for a month. She swore under her breath, muttered, "The hell with him," and walked into the kitchen.

Hermione turned when Ginny put a hand on her shoulder. "Oh, Ginny, you're here! Ron and Harry went upstairs. They asked me to wait down here, just in case something else happened. Are you all right?"

"Fine. Saliyah and Pester are here. I guess they were at the match and figured that something went wrong. But Pester's in trouble. Someone outside said he's been sleeping with Turquoise."

Hermione's eyes widened. "No! What on earth was he thinking?"

"About the wrong thing," Ginny chortled. "My guess is that he just lost two jobs."

"Well, that's also going to put Turquoise in the hot seat. That really makes her look suspicious."

Before Ginny could speak, the back door opened and Harry and Ron walked in. Ron looked sober, but Harry's face was black with anger, and Ginny clenched her jaw and sucked in a breath.

"It's reparable," said Ron. "We already fixed the bathroom window, but we wanted to leave the rest until the Aurors saw it."

"The Auror," Ginny said dryly. "Saliyah and Professor Pester showed up a few minutes ago, but some of the pissed-off villagers told Saliyah that he's been sleeping with Turquoise."

"You're joking!" Ron exclaimed, but Harry looked even angrier.

"Well, that's fucking great." He turned away, put his hands on the stove, and leaned on his arms. "Kingsley Shacklebolt is worse than Fudge," he said to the wall. He turned back to face them. "He's got Aurors screwing the criminals, literally. What am I supposed to do, send Pester buckets of my gold so he'll do his job? I can't believe this." He scowled at the door to the dining room where they could hear Stan still talking to Saliyah.

"Harry, that's unfair, and it's not true," Hermione said. "Kingsley is doing the best he can. It's not his fault if one of his Aurors can't keep his pants on. And look at what Pester was up against. All she does is walk around flaunting it."

"He was up against her pretty good, all right," Harry replied. "If you want to defend him, Hermione, then do it someplace else. I can't afford it." He stalked out of the kitchen into the dining room. Ginny stared after him, fighting a lump in her throat; Harry had not even looked at her.

"What's going on with him?" Ron said to Ginny after Harry had slammed the door behind him. "It's like everyone is his enemy. He was having a great time at the match, but when his wand went off, he started swearing at everything and everyone. He even snapped at Fleur when she asked him what was going on."

"I don't know," Ginny said as tears started flowing down her cheeks. She turned away and put her hands over her face. Her voice came out muffled and choked. "He's not himself, he's . . . he's been changed by all this. He can't admit that he messed up, that he should never have bought it."

Ginny turned and threw herself at Ron as her shoulders shook with sobs; he held her, and Hermione also put her arms around Ginny. She and Ron gave each other worried, uncomprehending looks over Ginny's head.

The dining room door opened and Harry stood in the doorway; he stopped when he saw them. "What's wrong?"

Hermione, scowling fiercely, grabbed his hand and yanked him inside the kitchen. She stomped around him and closed the door. "Colloportus!" she snapped, pointing her wand at it, and spun around to face Harry. He looked back at Ron and Ginny, who was wiping her face with her sleeve without looking at him.

Hermione glared at him. "You know perfectly well what's wrong. Look at Ginny. Look at her, Harry! What in Merlin's name are you doing? Have you lost every shred of sense?"

Harry turned. Ginny was no longer crying, but her eyes were wet. "Harry," she murmured, "Harry, what's wrong? Please tell me."

A shadow passed over his face. "It's . . . it's this." He suddenly slumped to a squatting position on the floor and put his arms over his head. Ginny made a move towards him but Ron held her back.

Harry looked up desperately, pleading with his eyes. "Ginny, I'm sorry. I know I'm always saying that. I don't know why I take it out on you, on everyone." He bent his head and they could barely hear his hoarse voice. "These things keep happening, and I can't stop them. They broke the Anapido, but my wand started shaking, so I knew something was wrong. Then we got here . . . If McPherson hadn't been out hunting, he would be dead, just like . . ." His voice broke and he fell back down, sitting on the floor.

Ginny squatted next to him and took one of his hands. He looked at her out of frightened eyes. She spoke in a clear voice. "Harry, we're all here, everyone is here because they love you. People outside were yelling at Saliyah because she's not protecting you. Harry, I love you."

He nodded and put her hand to his mouth; a choked sob escaped. "I love you too," he said, but he didn't look at her.

Ginny stood and Harry also got up. He hugged her for a long time, and Ginny held him as tightly as she could. Finally he lifted her chin. "I love you," he whispered. He tried to smile, but it was more of a flinch. "Let's go clean up."

Hermione unsealed the door, Ron got Saliyah—Pester was gone—and Harry led them upstairs. Ginny gasped when she saw the shards of glass and pieces of splintered mullions covering the floor. "Oh, Harry!" she cried, grabbing his hand, "who would do this?"

"I wish I knew," he answered, and gave her hand a squeeze. He walked over to McPherson, who was sitting on his perch looking outraged, and the owl hopped onto Harry's arm. Saliyah walked around the flat, peering out each of the broken windows, and finally told Harry he could clean it up, and went back downstairs.

They all backed against the wall opposite the casement window and Harry pointed his wand. "Reparo!" he said loudly and firmly. At first slowly, but with gathering speed, hundreds of tiny slivers of glass and wood began streaming through the air towards the shattered window, and in a few seconds it was once again intact.

They went around the flat, into the kitchen and the bedroom, and quickly all the windows were repaired. The bed hangings had been closed, but Ginny checked inside anyway. When everything was secure, they went down to the dining room and gathered around Saliyah who was talking to Stan again; they could see Bill and George outside with a few customers who had stayed.

"I'm going to set a guard, Harry," Saliyah said, "until we get to the bottom of this. They'll take their meals here and sleep in shifts someplace or other in the village or maybe at the castle. I promise you it won't happen again."

Harry stared at her, hard. "Where was Pester? He never told me anything about the Dark Marks or the weasel or the chimney. Did he do anything in Hogsmeade besides shag Turquoise Southeby?"

"I'm sorry about that. Morequest is back in London. He's going to have some disciplinary issues, but that's between him and me. He's good, Harry, he really is, but he's also young and, well, I'm sure you noticed that he thinks very highly of himself. He was very brave during the war, he stood up to the Death Eaters and to Thicknesse, and maybe he got a little too much adulation for that, and maybe we pushed him along too fast." She sighed. "I need to talk to this Southeby person. Do you know where she lives?"

They glanced at each other, and Ron cleared his throat. Saliyah looked from one to the other, and finally Harry spoke. "Ginny and I tried to follow her home, but we lost her about three miles east of here. We think she's using a Fidelius."

"What?! Are you sure?"

"Yes we are. We talked to Bill, and he thought so too."

The Auror frowned. "That's very interesting. Well, I'll catch her at her work." She turned to go, but paused and smiled at Ginny. "You were brilliant today. I heard there were scouts at the match. Don't be surprised if someone comes to talk to you."

As Saliyah walked out, the Weasley family walked in. Molly was highly indignant, and after crushing Harry with a massive hug, proclaimed, "This is outrageous. How many times has it happened now? Four? Five? I'm going to have a talk with Kingsley, they must do something."

"They're stationing guards, Mrs. Weasley." Harry gasped for breath as George and Percy pushed two tables together and they all sat. "I'm hoping it'll stop now."

No one mentioned Harry's outburst of temper at the match, and soon they were eating lunch. Stan brought drinks—butterbeers for everyone except Potio Vitae for Harry and Hermione. The conversation turned to the Quidditch match and Ginny's outstanding performance.

"But it wasn't just your flying," George said as he polished off a corned beef sandwich. "I never saw a Hogwarts team so well coached. It was no contest, even with the, um, problems in goal. Ron, I heard you gave the poor bloke some tips. Well done." He smirked at his brother.

"He didn't puke, so I consider it a huge success," Ron answered.

"Ronald!" Molly glared at him. "Not at the table, if you don't mind."

Ron looked at Hermione. "What did I say?"

"The usual."

"Oh. Sorry, Mum. You should be proud of me, though. I now have two careers, Auror and Quidditch coach."

Molly pointed her fork at him. "You won't have any careers if you don't watch your manners."

"Yes, Mum."

As they ate and talked, Ginny was aware that Harry remained quiet. He sipped his drink and ate his food, but didn't look up from his plate. His response in the kitchen had perked up her spirits, as did the praise she was getting from her family, but she wasn't sure what was bothering Harry right now, whether it was Quidditch for some reason or, once again, the inn. At least he had acknowledged her and accepted her attempt to comfort him.

Towards the end of the meal, while they were sipping coffee and tea and talking about Fleur's baby, two witches walked in dressed in dark green robes emblazoned with a golden talon. They looked around and one of them caught Ginny's eye and came over to the Weasleys' table; the other sat at a table near the door. As the first witch approached, Ron's eyes bulged and he reached over and clutched Ginny's arm.

"Miss Weasley?" the witch said. "How do you do? I'm Gwenog Jones, captain of the Holyhead Harpies Quidditch club, and I was wondering if you wouldn't mind speaking with us for a few minutes. That's our scout, Brenda Touron." She pointed to the witch sitting near the door, who smiled and waved.

Ginny's hands were shaking and she wasn't sure if her legs would hold if she stood. "Sure," she said, her voice cracking. "Sure." Everyone at the table was grinning at her; she glanced at Harry, and he smiled too. "I'll be right back." She put her hand on his shoulder as she pushed back her chair. They all watched as Ginny followed Jones and sat with the two witches.

"Awesome!" Ron said. "Dad, that Firebolt was the best thing you could have got her." He turned to Hermione. "She won't need those season passes now. Maybe she'll give them back to us." He fended off her slaps with his arm. "Just kidding! Just kidding!"

After ten minutes the witches and Ginny rose and shook hands. The visitors left and Ginny came back to the table, a huge grin on her face. Everyone looked at her expectantly, even Harry. "Well," said Arthur, "when are you turning professional?"

Ginny blushed. "Oh, Dad, don't say that. They just want me to come to a tryout next spring. I'm not the only one they're asking. Two of their Chasers are retiring."

"Darling, that's brilliant news!" said her mother, taking her hand. "You are so talented. My goodness, I never thought we would have a professional Quidditch player in the family. This is so exciting!"

"I haven't made the team yet, Mum. Please, it's still a long way off. There's lots of things that could happen between now and then."

"Nope," said George, "it's a mere formality. Ronald," he turned to his brother, "you can start repainting your attic room, and we'll burn those ghastly orange pajamas of yours."

"Okay, and I'll paint your entire flat over the shop alternating rooms of green and orange. Split loyalties, so to speak."

"You do any such thing and I'll move out," Hermione said darkly, "and then there won't be anyone to clean up your messes and bring you tea in bed every morning."

"Blimey! You do that for this git?" George pointed at Ron. "No wonder he's so happy these days. I should raise your rent," he said to Ron.

The laughter went around the table. Ginny was glad to see that Harry smiled, if only occasionally; hopefully, the only reason he was not completely enjoying himself was because of what had happened upstairs. She herself was as happy and excited as she had been in weeks, and she vowed not to let his brooding ruin the occasion. She had always had fantasies about playing Quidditch for her favorite team, but she had never taken those dreams seriously. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to be soaring through the sky experiencing the thrill of a Quidditch match and be paid for it, to be able to make a living at it.

Without realizing it, she took Harry's hand and pressed it to her thigh under the table. He looked at her with a smile and started moving the hand. Ginny closed her eyes for a moment and hoped that the feeling would last.

The Weasleys returned to their homes, except Ron and Hermione who decided, after prompting from Ginny, to stay through dinner. She hoped their presence would help if Harry descended into another funk; she even held out a tiny hope that he might talk about the inn or the Auror training program.

They all walked back to the castle so that Ginny could change out of her Quidditch robes, and while they walked Harry described what he had pieced together after talking to Stan and some of the customers.

"Carlos saw someone go around to the back, but he didn't get a good look, just that it was someone short. Do you remember the Dark Mark on the first day of school? Winky saw a short witch running away, and I'll bet it was the same one."

"Pansy Parkinson," said Ron. "She's the one."

"She's not that short," said Hermione. "She's taller than me."

"No, she's shorter by at least two inches."

"Well, that's not really short. You wouldn't call me short, would you?"

"No, but I would call someone two inches shorter than you, short."

"She's taller than me," Ginny piped up, "so just ask Carlos how the witch compared to me and Hermione."

"How could he tell that?" Ron said. "He just saw her for a second."

"Ginny and I can take turns running past the window, and Carlos can say who was shorter," said Hermione.

"The three of you are mental," Harry cut in before anyone else could speak. "It doesn't matter because there are ten thousand witches in Britain who are short."

"Well, maybe it was someone disguised as a short witch," Ron said.

Harry stopped, and the others did too. "I don't believe this. If that's how they teach you to think in that Auror school, then I'll be sure never to go there." Ron grinned, and Hermione and Ginny chuckled and exchanged looks. Ginny felt good that Harry could joke about something—anything—so she took a chance and took his hand. He held it and they started walking again.

They went up to the common room together and a cheer went up when people saw them. Several came running, and Ginny felt Harry's hand tighten; she looked at him and he grinned.

"You do know what I'm thinking," he said quietly. "The last time I came in here after a Quidditch match, you made me kiss you." His eyes twinkled and Ginny laughed, not just because of his little joke but because he was himself again.

After Ginny changed they went back to the inn and spent the rest of the afternoon sitting around a table sipping drinks, munching on a steady stream of snacks and sweets, and dissecting the Quidditch match. Harry suggested faking another dose of Felix Felicis for Dennis, but conceded to Hermione's argument that it would be too obvious. They all agreed that, barring disaster, the Quidditch Cup was all but won for Gryffindor. Ginny had done such an excellent coaching job and her Seeker skills were so far above any other flyer in school, that they couldn't see how any other team had a chance against them.

In the middle of the afternoon three Aurors walked in. They looked slowly around the room, which had become silent; two of them sat at the bar and one came over to Harry.

"Is everything okay, Mr. Potter," she asked.

"Fine, and thanks for coming. Help yourselves to whatever you want. Just tell Stan or Kreacher, they'll take care of you."

"Thanks," she smiled, "but that won't be necessary. We're on an expense account. Gold on the barrelhead for everything we eat or drink. I'm Sagittaria Slocum. I'm in charge of the detail." She gave a nod and joined her companions at the bar. After a few minutes two of them went outside while the third sat at a table near the door. The two outside walked around the building and out of sight.

"Do you know them?" Hermione asked Ron.

He nodded. "I've seen them in and out of the Ministry, but I never talked to them."

Ron and Hermione left after dinner. Ginny and Harry walked down to The Three Broomsticks and found Hagrid there; they had a drink with him, but Ginny spotted Turquoise sitting in a corner with friends. The blond witch kept watching Harry, whose back was to her, and every time Ginny caught her eye she picked up her glass of firewhiskey and took a sip. Finally, Ginny's irritation grew too much and she told Harry she wanted to leave. Harry was grumpy about it.

"Why should we let her dictate what we do? I was having a nice chat with Hagrid," he said as they returned to the inn.

"About Blast-Ended Skrewts? Actually, she reminds me of one. Besides," she put her arm in his and leaned on his shoulder, "I was looking forward to being just the two of us."

Harry grunted and Ginny tensed. "Okay," he said.

As they walked around to the back of the inn and Harry opened the door, Ginny knew that his mood had again swung in the wrong direction; this was not Harry's typical playfulness, let alone the passion she was hoping for. They did not speak as they climbed the stairs. Ginny went into the bedroom, but Harry went into the kitchen where Ginny could hear him rattling around. After a few minutes she joined him; Harry was standing with his back to the cabinets, leaning against a counter, staring into space.

"Is something wrong?" Ginny asked hesitantly, thinking here we go again.

Harry turned to look at her. "Not if you think it's okay to have all your windows busted."

"But the Aurors are downstairs. No one can get near the place now."

Harry shrugged. "Yeah, I guess you're right. I'm sorry, Gin, sometimes I just can't seem to shake this sour mood."

They stood there, and finally Ginny said, "Come, love, let's go to bed."

They went into the bedroom and Ginny lit the candles, but for the first time since they had started making love she didn't enjoy it, and she wasn't sure that Harry had, either. As soon as he was finished he rolled over with his back to her.

She put her hand on his shoulder. "Sweetheart, what is it?"

"Nothing. Put out the candles, will you?"

Ginny was still for several long moments. She took her wand and extinguished the candles and lay on her back, listening to Harry's breathing. "I'll be going to the library in the morning," she said. "I'll be back for dinner, if that's okay."

Harry didn't answer, and Ginny thought that he was asleep. After a minute he muttered something that she couldn't hear. "What?" she asked.

"I said fine, whatever you want." He pulled the covers higher and Ginny turned her back to him, and they slept.

# # # #

Ginny got up early and hurriedly dressed. Harry didn't wake, and she tried to be as quiet as possible. It was nearly the breakfast hour at Hogwarts, but she didn't want to talk to anyone there, so she went down to the kitchen to make something for herself. Winky poked a sleepy head out of her cupboard.

"Does Ginny Weasley want breakfast?" she yawned. "Winky can make it."

Ginny waved at the elf. "Please, don't bother, I'm fine."

Winky stared at Ginny, and for some reason it made her uncomfortable. "Ginny Weasley is fine?" Winky said, and cocked her head.

"Of course. What do you mean?"

"Winky means nothing." She clambered out of the cupboard and took a bottle of cold milk from a shelf and handed it to Ginny. Ginny poured some over her corn flakes and began eating, while Winky puttered around the kitchen. When Ginny was done she put the bowl and her spoon in the sink and was about to walk out the door, but paused with her hand on the handle.

She turned and looked at Winky. "Is Harry fine?"

The elf frowned. "Winky must not say bad things about Harry Potter. Ginny Weasley should know the answer to that question." Winky didn't look at her, but disappeared into a large cupboard; Ginny heard pots and pans clattering, but after a minute, when Winky didn't reappear, Ginny left.

It was almost six in the afternoon when she returned. She had finished a twenty-four inch parchment for Transfiguration and a slightly shorter one for Defense Against the Dark Arts, but now she didn't know who would be teaching that class. The news about Professor Pester had reached the school, and several people approached her in the library to find out what she knew. She only told Keesha and Luna about Pester's transgression, and they both went away shaking their heads.

Ginny walked into the dining room of the inn and saw Harry seated at the bar talking to one of the Aurors; each had a bottle of Potio Vitae in his hand. Harry didn't notice her, but Stan looked at her. His eyes shifted toward the back of the room, and Ginny saw Turquoise sitting by herself, staring back at her with narrowed eyes. She was wearing one of the very low-cut tops that Ginny had seen before. Ginny glowered, and after a moment Turquoise got up and walked towards the door; as she brushed past Ginny, she gave a little smirk. Ginny waited until she was gone, and went to the bar. Harry had watched Turquoise leave, but turned away.

The Auror nodded to Ginny. "How are you, Miss Weasley? I saw you at the Quidditch match yesterday. You're quite a flyer."

"Thanks." She smiled quickly. "Harry, what was she doing here? I thought we agreed she wasn't welcome."

Harry swung around and faced her. "I never said that. Why shouldn't she come in here? She's not bothering anyone."

"She's bothering me. Doesn't that matter?"

Harry glanced at the Auror. "Let's go upstairs," he said to Ginny. He put his bottle down. "I'll be back," he told Stan.

They walked through the kitchen where Winky stopped mixing a bowl of salad greens and watched them. Upstairs in the parlor, Ginny went over to McPherson and let him nibble her hand. Then she turned to Harry. He was standing in front of the door, staring at her.

She walked towards him. "Listen, Harry, something is going on and I want to talk about it. You've been treating me as though I'm your enemy. That whore down there is your enemy, she's—"

'Now wait a minute, she's a strange bird, but she hasn't done anything. How can you call her my enemy?"

"Hasn't done anything? She sits there with her clothes half off, broadcasting to the world that she's available to you. How do you think that makes me feel?"

Harry shrugged. "Lousy, I guess, but what do you want me to do about it?"

Ginny gritted her teeth; she was standing only a foot in front of him. "I want you to do the same thing you should be doing about this stupid inn. I want you to talk about it. Harry, this is destroying us, don't you see? Please! Talk!"

He glared, walked around her, and stood with his back against the love seat. "There's nothing to talk about. It's my inn and I'll let in whoever I want."

Ginny had turned to face him. She had a lump in her throat, and her whole body was starting to trembling. "I thought it was our inn."

"My inn, our inn . . . you'll be off playing Quidditch, so what difference does it make?"

"What? Is that what's bothering you?" She walked towards him and put her hand on his face; Harry flinched. "Harry, love, what is wrong? Why are you saying these things? I thought you'd be happy that I have this chance. You know how important it is to me. Please, don't say—"

Harry suddenly pushed her hand away, and Ginny backed up, shocked, beginning to be frightened. "What are you doing?" she whispered. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing!" Harry shouted, advancing on her with a look of fury that she had never seen before. Her hand went to her wand. Harry continued towards her, and Ginny backed up until she was against the wall next to the door. Harry put his arm on the wall, blocking her in. His green eyes flashed. "Why does something have to be wrong with me? Did it ever occur to you that the problem is you?"

"No, Harry. The problem isn't me, it's you."

Harry swung, and pain exploded in Ginny's head; his hard slap caught her just below her eye. As he pulled his arm back again, her wand came up.

"Stupefy!" she screamed. Harry was flung back over the love seat and tumbled onto the rug in front of the fireplace. McPherson screeched and flapped his wings. Ginny yanked the door open and, pressing her hand to her throbbing cheek, stumbled down the stairs, out the back door, and ran.

# # # #

Harry lay on his front, his face buried in the rug. He gradually became aware of where he was, but he did not move for almost an hour, only flexing his right hand, the one he had struck Ginny with. The room darkened, and finally he sat up. He looked at his hand and took the wrist in his left hand, holding it up as though it was detached from his body. Again he did not move.

When the room was in almost total darkness, he stood, swaying slightly. He looked at McPherson who was only a shadow in the dark, and walked unsteadily to the owl. He reached out with his right hand, but McPherson screeched again and pecked at it viciously. Harry did not react, but let the hand dangle in the air as blood dripped onto the floor. McPherson fluttered away and perched on the mantel.

Harry took out his wand. "Lumos," he said; the wand briefly sparked but would not light. He stared at it, dropped it on the floor, and walked slowly to the bedroom. The bed hangings, dully illuminated in the failing light from the window, were open and the covers thrown back; he had not bothered to make the bed when he got up that morning. He stared at it for several minutes, then walked slowly back to the parlor and sat on the rug, facing the cold fireplace, his back to the love seat. McPherson clucked and flew back to his perch.

Hours later, Harry finally fell asleep on the rug. He dreamt of cold empty moors, windswept cliffs, and frigid wintry forests where he wandered alone, looking for something that could not be found. He did not awaken until long after dawn.

Harry did not leave the flat that day. He ate nothing, and drank a glass of water only when his thirst became almost intolerable and his lips began to crack. He lay on the rug as fear overwhelmed him. The wound that McPherson had inflicted began to throb, and he went into the bathroom and ran water over it. The owl would not let Harry come near, so finally he opened the window and it flew out, hooting loudly. In the evening, Stan knocked on the door, but Harry called out telling him to go away.

He tried lighting his wand when it got dark, but it would not even spark. That night Harry huddled on the rug again and had the same dream.

Tuesday passed just as Monday had, except now Harry was alone with not even an angry owl for company. Again he only drank a few glasses of water, but in the evening Stan came upstairs with Winky and Kreacher. Harry was dizzy from hunger, and he opened the door and took the tray that Kreacher was holding. Winky scowled when she saw Harry's swollen hand, and he let Kreacher go back downstairs and get a potion of some kind that the old elf smeared on the wound; in a few minutes it was healed.

Harry felt better after he had eaten, but when he asked for something to drink Stan brought him a butterbeer.

"We got another bad shipment of PV," Stan said, glancing at Kreacher and Winky. "People said it tasted real funny. No one wants it. Sipper said 'e'll send another batch on Saturday."

On Wednesday morning Harry finally went downstairs. He had not slept in the bed, and he could not do any magic with his wand. Winky sent him back upstairs when she saw him, ordering him to shave and bathe. He didn't object because he did not want to talk, and also because he did not care. Afterwards, he sat in the dining room with his ledger book open on the table, using it as a rampart to avoid conversations. The three Aurors stared and muttered to each other, but he ignored them, just as he ignored everyone else. He didn't know why he sat there, rather than up in the flat; maybe he was hoping for someone to come see him, but he was sure that no one would.

Turquoise came early in the afternoon and sat at the table next to Harry, but when Stan spilled a tray of mugs filled with butterbeer down her front, she left with her hands covering her completely soaked blouse, and did not return.

Harry sat in the dining room by day and slept on the rug by night, and the week crept on. He talked to no one about what had happened or about anything else. He did not go to his Charms lesson, and by the time the weekend came, a black terror had engulfed his soul, worse than anything he had ever felt in seven years of fighting Voldemort.