Chapter Two: Happy Anniversary

TW: mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts

In retrospect, it was quite an achievement to have got through almost the entire day without realising what day it actually was.

On the first anniversary, Ginny had locked herself in her dorm and spent most of the day either crying, vomiting or staring numbly at the ceiling wondering why she couldn't cry or vomit. On the second, she had made it through almost the whole day trying to suppress her lingering nerves before she had accidentally wandered past the second-floor girls bathroom on the way to dinner and suffered an intense panic attack, which Demelza had skived off Potions to help her through. The third year, she'd woken up that morning and swore to herself she wouldn't let anyone know it wasn't just another normal day, so had gritted her teeth and pushed through a gruelling Quidditch practice and a double Umbridge lesson with remarkable tenacity. Upon returning to her dorm that night, and realising she had indeed made it through the whole day, she shed a few tears again, although not out of fear or pain this time. Look how far you've come, she thought to herself, and then a few weeks later she went out and fought some Death Eaters just to prove it. By the time her fourth anniversary rolled around, she barely had the time to spare to even think about it, as the all-consuming pressure of her OWLs had driven nearly everything else out of her mind. The talking homework diary Hermione had bought her as a Christmas present to keep her on track with revision was by this point exercising almost as much control over her life as Tom Riddle's had, and she couldn't even get Harry to stab it this time.

Harry. How far she'd come since she was a wilting eleven-year old unable to share a room with him. She'd never admit it for fear of sounding utterly ridiculous, but ever since the two of them had got together everything just seemed better. Sure, objectively she knew that the world was in a pretty shit place at that point, what with all the murders, but none of that felt like it mattered one bit as long as she got to end a long day of revision by curling up with him in front of the fire and driving Ron round the bend by seeing who could snog the other the most fiercely. She'd had boyfriends before, and had liked them well enough, but what she felt for Harry, and what she was pretty sure he felt for her even if he hadn't said it out loud yet, went far beyond that. She felt giddy and carefree and brimming with happiness, like she was 10 years old again and running through the Burrow garden without a care in the world, like she had before-

Ah. That.

Friday, May 30th, 1997 began much like any other day that year, in that it began with Hermione yelling at her about her OWLs. She had nodded politely through Hermione's breakfast lecture before setting off for Charms, where she had impressed Flitwick with her performance of the Locomotion Charm, and then Transfiguration, where she had not impressed McGonagall by accidentally turning the chair she was supposed to transform into a bicycle into an exact replica of her dad's Ford Anglia that proceeded to rev up and crash into the wall, demolishing several other students' desks. She had attempted to see Harry at lunch but lost sight of him after a group of third-year Hufflepuff girls had cornered her and excitedly began peppering her with questions about what it was like to date the 'Chosen One'. I might be able to find out if you lot would ever stop bugging me, she thought to herself as she politely told them it was wonderful and rushed off to get to class.

Next came Potions, where she was more thankful than ever for her status as one of Slughorn's 'favourites'. Her attempts at brewing a Pepperup Potion proved disastrous after mixing up dragon and unicorn horn powder resulted in a foul-smelling purple mixture that had almost made her vomit, but the kindly professor had simply vanished it and allowed her to start from scratch again without being marked down. Her final class of the day, Defence Against the Dark Arts, had seen almost the exact opposite happen: Ginny had performed a spectacular Reductor Curse that had obliterated the entire range of obstacles Snape set up for them to practice on, but had been rewarded only with a cold sneer and a lost five points for Gryffindor due to her 'incorrect stance'. Watching the eternally arrogant Edward Harper be awarded five points for a clearly inferior curse was the straw that finally broke the camel's back- she exploded at Snape, angrily accusing him of favouritism and referring to Harper as an 'inbred shit'. Detention was to be served that evening after dinner.

More than ever, she was convinced that Harry's theory was correct and that the former Potions master had been even harsher on the two of them than usual since they had started dating. She went to dinner in an indignant mood, and was delighted to find Demelza at the table so she could bemoan this injustice at length.

'Don't take it personally,' her friend said, 'he doesn't like any Gryffindors, does he?'

'I know that, but it feels personal,' Ginny responded. 'Like even some of the other Gryffindors were clearly doing the curse wrong, but in every one of our classes I'm the one who gets singled out!'

'I reckon he's jealous', Demelza said airily. Ginny seemed taken aback.

'What, you think he wants to date Harry?'

'Don't be daft. He's just jealous that someone's getting action when he isn't!'

Ginny felt her face heat up considerably. 'What are you talking about?'

'Oh, come off your high horse,' Demelza responded, wearing an evil grin. 'You two lovebirds snog the life out of each other in public, I can only imagine what you get up to when no-one else is around. Come on Ginny, you can tell me.'

'It's really none of your business what we do,' Ginny replied weakly.

'Ooh, why so shy? You told me basically everything that happened between you and Dean, didn't you?'

'Yeah, but this is… it's like… it's just… Harry's different, okay?'

'Ooh, he's different, is he?' asked Demelza, and Ginny quickly realised this was possibly the worst thing she could have said. Demelza now seemed positively gleeful, which was surely bad news. 'How is he different, exactly? Do tell, I could make a fortune telling Witch Weekly what kind of lover the Chosen One really is.'

'He hates it when people call him that.'

'Oh, I'm sure he does, he's so noble, isn't he? I bet he writes you poetry and buys you flowers and puts his cloak down on puddles so you don't get your feet wet and all that other Pride and Prejudice crap. Nice enough I'll give you, but it must get really boring when you-'

'I have detention!' Ginny proclaimed to no-one in particular. Demelza laughed as Ginny pushed her half-finished roast beef out of the way and gathered up her school things to make a hasty exit. 'You know what Snape's like, got to go, talk to you later!' She half-walked, half-ran out of the Great Hall, leaving behind a smug Demelza loudly speculating as to where she was really going and, for once in her life, feeling profoundly grateful to have detention.

When she finally arrived at the abandoned Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom, she was surprised to find it empty. All that was left was a small piece of parchment on the front desk that bore the following message:

'Miss Weasley, your assignment is to clean this classroom and set up the equipment required for my lesson with the third years tomorrow morning, which you will find in the store cupboards to your left. All this must be completed without magic. I am unable to join you this evening due to unforeseen circumstances, but I ensure you that if you do not complete these tasks, I will know.'

Ginny sighed, her hopes of getting back to the common room early utterly dashed. As she retrieved a cloth from under his desk and began sweeping the desks by hand, she contemplated, not for the first time, what had happened to make Severus Snape so deeply maladjusted. Perhaps she could ask Hermione, and finally put that abnormal intellect of hers to a useful end.

Her ruminations powered her through the just over an hour and a half it took to hand wipe the classroom clean, and as she stood up to admire her handiwork and wiped some sweat off her brow she silently admitted that it did look much better this way. Maybe that was why her mum had always-

rattlerattlerattlerattle

Ginny spun around wildly, instinctively reaching for her wand. A distinctive rattling sound was coming from somewhere, but there was no-one around but her. It was almost nighttime by now, with only the barest hint of sun peeking out from over the mountains, and a primal fear overtook the youngest Weasley as she searched for the source of the hidden noise. She might not be a little girl anymore, but you never really grew out of the fear of things that go bump in the night.

Another rattling sound rang out, this time clearly from somewhere to her left. It was coming from the storage room, where the professors kept all the strange contraptions and equipment used for practical DADA lessons, and the door was slightly ajar. Feeling the hairs on the back of her neck prick up, Ginny walked slowly towards it and gently pushed the door aside, keeping her wand pointed out in front of her. The light from the classroom cast long shadows as it struck the cupboard, and she almost jumped out of her skin after it struck a lifesize model of a Death Eater, like the ones the DA had used a year prior, that she mistook for the real thing.

'Lumos.'. More light, and this time it bore fruit as she glanced to her right and saw a small, ornate chest of drawers shaking softly. Her mind raced with all the possible dangers it could contain- Snape seemed determined to make up for Umbridge's neglect of practical Defence by exposing them to as many Dark creatures and artefacts as possible, and in her present state she was not well equipped to fight for her life. She weighed her options: should she examine it or leave it alone and keep on with the rest of her chores? Certainly the safer option would be to leave it well enough alone, but Snape was a notorious perfectionist, and leaving a dangerous Dark creature infesting his store room when she'd been specifically ordered to clear it was a sure-fire way to earn herself another week of detentions. Besides, it's not like she hadn't faced Dark creatures before- Ginny Weasley had faced down Death Eaters, Dementors and Voldemort himself, and she'd be damned if she was going to let a bloody cabinet get the better of her now. She raised her wand.

'Alohamora', she whispered. The cabinet burst open.

Then her heart stopped.

For once in his life, Harry Potter was being very, very careful.

He slowly clambered through the portrait hole, being careful not to make too much noise- it was pretty late, and he didn't want to draw the ire of any sleeping Gryffindors. Plus, having just spent five hours knocking out an excruciatingly long DADA essay for Snape, he was eager to grab some beauty sleep himself, and his late entrance might even mean that he would be spared the usual angry stares of Dean and occasionally Seamus that he'd been receiving every night before bed since he and Ginny had got together, and doubly so since the Howler incident a few days prior.

He glanced around, and was relieved to see that the common room seemed entirely abandoned, save for a comatose fourth year curled up in an armchair and drooling into a copy of The Standard Book of Spells: Grade 4. Harry headed over to the boys' dormitory, and was about to head up the stairs when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted someone else, and realised he wasn't quite as alone as he thought.

Ginny Weasley was lying sprawled on a sofa adjacent to the roaring fire, and was wide awake, her warm brown eyes gazing intently into the flames as if they held some secret knowledge only she could understand. Her clothes were tattered and she was clutching her wand in her right hand so tightly she seemed to be on the verge of snapping it, but most noteworthy was her face, which showed the faintest hints of red puff and wetness. She had clearly been crying, but was now making a valiant effort to show the stoniest face possible. She almost certainly didn't want to be disturbed.

'Hey Ginny,' Harry offered, because tactfulness had never been his strong point. Ginny shot up like a cat whose tail had been trod on- eyes wide, hairs on end and wand pointed outwards in defence. Upon seeing him, she lowered her wand and her face softened, but Harry was somewhat hurt to see that her expression was still one of sadness and resignation, rather than her usual mischievous cheer. 'What's wrong?'

Ginny let out a low sigh. 'Nothing, don't worry,' she said weakly, before lying back down and curling up further like a wounded animal. Harry was seized by an overwhelming desire to run over and wrap her up in his arms, but he knew how much Ginny hated to be coddled- it had been the deciding issue in her breakup with Dean, and even if he wasn't trying to stay her boyfriend he knew how dangerous she could be when provoked. So instead, he simply walked over and sat down on the other side of the couch, before looking back up at her and waiting until her eyes flicked over from the fire back to him.

'Hey', he said softly, moving his right hand out to the middle of the sofa as a peace offering. This did not go as planned. Rather than reaching up to meet him as he'd hoped, Ginny seemingly recoiled at his affectionate overtures, moving along the sofa to curl up on the other end as far away from him as possible. Harry's hurt and confusion intensified further- had he done or said something horrible that had caused her to turn on him like this? He pushed that unwelcome thought to the back of his mind, figuring that whatever Ginny was upset about right now was probably more important than his wounded pride, and tried again.

'Gin,' he offered, 'please. I'm here for you, okay?'

'You must be tired,' she replied, still refusing to return his gestures. 'You should go to bed.'

'Why would I? My dream's right in front of me already.'

It was quite possibly the cheesiest thing anyone had ever said to another person, but it had the intended effect. Ginny smiled softly, and, with a groan, shifted herself over so she was laying against Harry on the other side of the sofa. He snaked his right hand under her waist to hold her and rested the other in her hair, gently playing with it and massaging her scalp. She left out a soft sigh and leaned further back against his chest.

'Do you want to tell me what's going on now?' Harry asked gently. Ginny was silent for a few seconds, enjoying the feeling of being close to him. She sighed again.

'Do you know what day it is?' she asked. Harry was a bit shocked- this was not the response he had been expecting at all- but he put his mind to it. Today was May 30th, wasn't it? It wasn't her or anyone else's birthday, he was pretty sure, and there wasn't a big holiday or anniversary that he'd forgotten. What could have happened that meant the fact that it was the 30th of May make her-

'Oh,' Harry said softly. Of course. He'd never felt more of an idiot in his life. Four years ago to this day, Tom Riddle had taken over Ginny's body and marched her down into the Chamber of Secrets to a watery grave. It was a strong contender for the worst day in Harry's life, which was really saying something, and it wasn't even because he'd had to fight a basilisk and an evil ghost Voldemort- the feeling of blind panic and horror he'd felt seeing her small, lifeless body on the chamber floor still haunted him to this day, and he couldn't even imagine how it felt for her to have lived with that terror for almost an entire year.

'I'm so sorry, Gin,' he whispered. 'I should have remembered, I should have done something for you, I am so, so sorry.'

Ginny laughed, startling Harry even more. 'Harry, please calm down, alright?'

'But you were mad at me after I forgot last Christmas, and I promised I wouldn't do it again, and-

'I forgot too!' Harry was now completely lost, but he chose to hear her out first. 'Totally forgot about it. Hermione was banging on about OWLs and then I had Charms and Potions and Demelza was teasing me about you and I just went through the whole day not even thinking about Tom or the Chamber at all, and it was… great. It was really great.'

'What happened?'

She took another deep breath. 'I had Defence Against the Dark Arts today and I called this Slytherin boy who Snape kept giving points to an "inbred shit".'

'Nice.'

'Thank you. Snape gave me detention and told me to clear out that big old store room at the back of his classroom, you know, the one where they keep all those weird contraptions that's always gathering dust. I was going through some old stuff and I saw this old cupboard that kept rattling like something was trapped inside it so I opened it and… it was a Boggart.'

'Oh. That must have been pretty scary.'

'Well, yeah because normally I see Tom, and I'm never really happy to see him.

'I guessed.' Suddenly, something she'd said stood out to Harry. 'Wait, what do you mean normally?'

'I didn't see Tom this time. I mean, I knew Boggarts could change but I'd never seen it actually happen before, I thought it didn't happen until you got, like, a lot older and you got married and had kids and stuff. I just wasn't expecting it I guess.'

'So if it wasn't Tom, what did the Boggart turn into?'

'I-It turned into me.'

Harry felt like he'd been Confunded. 'You?'

'Well, not me me, not me now, but me from first year, the me who opened the Chamber. I was tiny, would've been barely up to your chest, hair was a total mess, I was covered in blood and feathers because of those roosters Tom made me kill, and I was just crying my eyes out, totally out of it. And… I had the diary. I was clutching it to my chest like it was the most important thing in the world.'

They stayed there in silence for a bit, Ginny leaning into Harry's shoulder as he gently stroked her hair, before she spoke again. 'You know, before… all of that, before all the Chamber of Secrets stuff, Tom was my best friend. Or he felt like he was, anyway. I was scared and lonely, away from my family for the first time and I had all these older brothers who didn't want anything to do with me and I had that massive crush on you that felt so terrifying to deal with, and suddenly I had him, this kind and patient and understanding boy who told me I was the most special girl in the whole world. I think… in a way, I kind of loved him, sort of. And afterwards, when the whole thing was over, I just felt so violated, you know? I told him everything, I trusted him more than I'd trusted anyone, and he used me and left me to die. I didn't really talk to anyone in my second year because I didn't want someone to treat me the way he had, I thought if I let anyone in or told people things it'd turn out just the same way. I didn't really have friends until my third year, and even then it was hard telling them anything.'

'Oh, Gin,' Harry said softly. 'I'm so sorry. I should have been there after the Chamber, I should have tried to help you in third year, I-'

'Hey, you did enough, you saved my life, remember?' she replied. 'You were twelve, Harry, you weren't going to know all the answers, and you had your own stuff going on, don't feel bad. I've never blamed you for any of that and I wouldn't want you to blame yourself, either.'

'I don't want you to blame yourself for the Chamber either,' Harry responded. 'Using people is what Voldemort does, and you were only eleven and you fought him off for a whole year, most adult witches and wizards who he's gone after couldn't do anything like that.'

'That's just it though, I don't think I do blame myself. At least, I don't think that's why the boggart turned into me.'

'Then why did it?'

Ginny paused for a moment before replying. 'Because… because I'm doing really well at the moment and I don't want to go back to that. I mean, other than all the attempted murders, this year has been pretty good for me. I've got friends, I'm working well, I've played some really good Quidditch and… and I've got you. This is basically everything I ever wanted when I was eleven, and I had to work really bloody hard to come out of my shell and talk to people and get through all this shit Tom put in my brain to get there and the worst thing in the world, for me, would be to turn back into that girl who had no friends and was never going to live to do anything with her life and every so often wondered just how painful it would be to just jump off the Astronomy Tower and never have to worry about anything.'

Her confession hung in the air between them for a while. Harry knew he had to say something, but nothing he could think to say would match the magnitude of what had come before. Part of him wished he and the DA hadn't destroyed all those Time Turners in the Ministry last year, just so he could use one to go back and stab that bloody diary a second time or just to give eleven-year old Ginny a hug and tell her that everything was going to be alright. But he couldn't do that, and besides Ginny would hate him thinking she needed to be 'looked after' in any way- he'd had enough complaints about his 'saving people thing' to know that. He would have to approach this some other way.

'Do you know what my Boggart is?' he asked. Ginny was clearly not expecting this response, judging from the confused frown that appeared on her face, and was rather confused about why he would ask this, but decided to indulge him.

'No? What is it?' she asked in turn.

'It's a Dementor', he answered. 'When we had the boggart lesson in third year Lupin thought it'd be Voldemort, but one of them had got me on the train on the way there and when it did, I heard… I heard my mum dying. She was begging Voldemort to let me live, offered herself up if he would, but of course he didn't take her up on that and I had to hear that too. I remember this kind of suffocating darkness, like drowning in ink, like I was totally helpless and, you know, there was nothing ahead of me, no future, no happiness, just this eternal aching pain. I know it's not the same thing, but is that like what you felt with the diary and that?

'Yeah, that's actually almost exactly it. How did you know?'

'Because that's what I felt after Cedric, and the tournament. And then after Sirius. You know, like my life would be nothing but endless misery from this point out. It was… very, very shit. I think that's why even after all the many horrible monsters and Death Eaters and the like that I've run into, I still see a Dementor, because to me the worst thing in the world is feeling like not only is everything terrible, but you can't do anything about it. Lupin told me that seeing a Dementor as my boggart meant that the thing I feared the most was fear itself, and I think that maybe for you it's the same and that's why you saw yourself at your lowest, and your weakest, moment, because for you and for me the scariest thing isn't that bad things and monsters exist, it's that you might not be able to do anything about them or stop them and that you're totally powerless to help yourself or anyone else.'

They sat there in silence for a few moments before Ginny responded. 'You know, if that whole Chosen One thing doesn't work out I reckon you'd make a pretty good psychiatrist.'

'Well, only if all my patients are as fascinating as you are,' he replied. 'Look, I'm sorry if all this comes across as a bit patronising or over-protective, I really am, I know you're perfectly capable of taking care of yourself and the last thing you want is for me to try and solve your problems for you. I just… when you were saying all that stuff about the Chamber, the way you said it made me feel like you thought you could never tell anyone, like it was this deep and shameful secret that somehow made you a terrible person and I just wanted you to understand that you're not the only one who's felt that way, you know? You can tell me these things. It doesn't make you a bad person at all, you've done so many amazing things, and I really do wish I'd been friends with you sooner because being around you and talking to you makes this kind of stuff so much easier for me, and I hope the same is true of me for you.'

Another moment of silence passed before Ginny responded. She titled her head up to look at him, and the amount of warmth and affection in her eyes washed away any awkwardness or trepidation he had felt about sharing all those dark things with her- here was someone who would always understand him. 'I wish I'd known I could talk to you about this,' she said, 'back then. You seemed like this untouchable, brave, noble hero who'd never be weak and afraid like I was, and that didn't really go away after you literally saved me from a monster with a sword.'

'I have my moments.'

'I know.' She kissed him, quickly pulling back, but it still made his face light up. 'Of course, if I'd know then that my childhood hero, the Boy Who Lived, was such a sap…' Harry made an offended face, and Ginny laughed. 'It is true, by the way. What you asked me about. I mean, it was nice being with Dean, and with Michael, and both of them were really nice boys- well, Dean was, Michael was a bit of a prat- but I could never talk about this with them, really. They wouldn't have understood. But with you… I don't have to pretend. I can just be me.'

Nothing in Harry's life had made him feel prouder than that. Forget being the Chosen One or the Saviour of the Wizarding World- he was apparently the best thing in Ginny Weasley's life, and that was more than enough. They kissed again, taking their time this time around to lean into the other and enjoy the shared intimacy afforded to them by their seclusion. When they finally broke apart, Ginny rested her head on his shoulder, and as he felt the tips of her silky hair brush against his skin Harry knew that he'd fight a thousand basilisks for her without question.

Unfortunately, as was often the case, Harry killed the mood. A powerful yawn escaped his mouth before he had time to stifle it, and, with the spell broken, he suddenly remembered that it was already nearly midnight, and he had Snape first thing the next morning. 'You know, it's pretty late, we should probably get to bed,' he offered, making a motion to get up. Ginny, however, clearly had other plans- she responded by pressing herself up against him and giving him a look that sent his insides into a flurry.

'Or we could stay here for the night?' Ginny suggested, a twinkle in her eye. Harry thought about arguing for a second, but then Ginny leaned in, her flowery scent filling his nostrils, and whispered into his ear, 'I'm pretty comfortable'. She pulled back and tilted her head at him, an expectant look in her eyes, and he knew the jig was up. He smiled at her and lay back down again, pulling her close to him, and settled in for the night. As he felt the warmth of her small body and the wonderful smell of flowers wash over him, he realised that he needn't have worried- he was going to sleep wonderfully tonight.

'Harry?' Ginny asked in a tired whisper.

'Yeah?'

'Next time you see him, Tom, I mean… kill him properly.'

'I will,' he promised.

And he did.