Chapter 4

Bodies

The whole rest of that week, Ginny felt strange. Like her blood had been replaced with ice harpy venom, or perhaps her skin had been sloughed off and replaced with a glamour. She had cast her first unforgivable curse, and she had used it on her former professor. Even worse, she had used it when he was defenseless and weak. She was not the witch she thought she was. She was something ugly and terrible.

Her unemployed status had officially gone from mildly embarrassing to completely unbearable. When she was not pouring over the Daily Prophet and churning out cover letter after cover letter, advertising her essentially non-existent skills, or opening her piles of rejection letters, there really was nothing for Ginny to do in sleepy Ottery St. Catchpole. Her mum had a system for everything, which had felt lovely and safe when she had been home for summer holidays as a student. Now it was a stifling regime that turned the entire household into a minefield of possible infractions that would unavoidably incur her mother's wrath.

In a desperate attempt to relieve the tension, Wednesday Ginny had flown out to the hills just after breakfast, and forced herself to stay there until sunset, pretending to read and attempting to practice some advanced transfiguration, which she had quite liked before the war. Mostly though, she just tried not to pull out her hair as she fought to keep the bad thoughts at bay. Her plan backfired in the end though. When she returned, her father's boss was over for dinner and Molly was running around the kitchen frantically trying to convince Alfred Hootinglower she ran the perfect magical household. When Ginny showed up with windswept hair in her dusty muggle attire the department head had sniffed judgmentally. And Molly did not stop barking orders at her until over an hour after Hootinglower had left.

Throughout all these trials her one rock was her father, and to a lesser degree, Charlie. They were the ones who helped put everything into perspective, when it felt as if these painful, crawling days might go on forever. Whenever she needed a hug or a shoulder to rest her head on, Arthur was there, with no judgements or advice. He and Charlie would crack jokes and tell stories about the year Charlie had been stuck at the Burrow after Hogwarts. "By the time I got my offer from the dragon trainers, Dad told me I'd better take it, since it at least there I'd have some chance of survival," Charlie had reminisced. "Let's just say, no matter how bored you are, it's never a good idea to take on the gnomes. It will be humiliating, and you will lose."

With her desperation at such intensity, Ginny could not help but shriek when she received her first promising response in weeks. It was a note from Sylvestra Enqisorio, requesting she come in for an interview! Madam Enquisorio was the proprietor of Local Tomes, a new bookstore that had opened as a competitor to Flourish and Blotts in London. Ginny owled back that she could come the next day, and Madam Enquisorio told her to come at 10. It seemed Ginny might finally become unstuck.

And so Ginny awoke early on the day of her interview. Not wanting to make the same mistake she had with Hootinglower she made sure to wear fine dress robes in a shade of blue so deep it was almost black. These were the ones that made her look the most dignified, and also set off her flaming orange hair to an interesting effect. She cleaned her dragonhide boots until they shone and and tied her hair into three sensible braids. After a few pieces of multigrain toast and a cup of tea she grabbed her broom set off for Diagon Alley. The second she kicked off from the ground her nerves calmed. Flying had that effect. She was on top of this. She was literally on top of everything.

She parked her broom in the back alley behind the Leaky Cauldron and placed her locking spell on it. She was actually a bit proud of it, because the locking spell was the first spell she had ever written. Although it was mostly just a combination of two other locking spells she had researched, she always threw in a special extra wand flick that intertwined the two in such a way that other wizards would have a hard time recognizing them. It was unlikely anyone would tamper with her broom.

Ginny knocked on the side door to Local Tomes at precisely at 10.

Madam Enquisorio came to the door and looked at Ginny with her long hair and fine robes and sighed. "Well hello there princess. I supposed you must be Ginevera," she said, mostly to herself. "Well follow me."

Abruptly she turned, and Ginny scurried after her. They two women entered a cluttered office filled with boxes of books and inventory sheets, and passed through another door into a literal fire hazard of a store room, with shaky stacks of books climbing from floor to the magically elevated ceiling 20 feet up. "So Ginevra, why do you want to work the stock room in a bookstore?"

"Well, I thought it would be a good first job, you know. I'm fresh out of Hogwarts and it's in Diagon Alley. I'm very enthusiastic and I could be a big help organizing the books and everything." Ginny answered.

"That sounds nice," Madam Enquisorio said. "Well tell me, where would you find a book from the publisher Beecham & Beetle, on night-blooming herbs?"

Ginny was ready for this one. She had studied with Hermione and knew the Dewey Decimal system forward and back. Taking a look at the stacks closest to her to orient herself, she set off briskly to the left, making a right at the end of the row and heading to the middle-back of the stock room. But as luck would have it her second turn was, well… sloppy. Slipping on a stray piece of parchment that lurked around the corner, Ginny lost her footing and stumbled to regain it. But while she recovered, an oversized ancient Norwegian atlas was shuffled, knocking into the stack directly next to it and bringing both stacks crumbling down. Thinking fast, Ginny pulled her wand from her sleeve and steadied both stacks. But when she looked back at Madam Enquisorio, she was not happy. "I see you managed to jumble about 50 books in less than five minutes." She shook her head. "No, you can teach organization, but precision and carefulness? Those are either in your bones, or they aren't. I'm sorry I'd like to help you out, but you don't seem right for this job."

"No… please… don't you think there's anything else I could do?" Ginny protested.

Madam Enquisorio paused to think for a moment.

"Well, can you do a P & L? A profit and loss scroll?" Madam Enquisorio demanded. "They're originally a muggle accounting practice, but now all the serious Wizard businesses use them… at least those that aren't too stuck up."

"Um, sorry, I don't know any accounting," Ginny said reluctantly.

"It's alright dear," Madam Enquisorio said, patting her arm and standing up. "I don't think you're stuck up. I'm sure it's not your fault you're not drawn to practical skills. Pureblood girls like you rarely do. And perhaps that's alright."

Madam Enquisorio led Ginny to the door and before she knew it, the heavy slice of oak was closing in front of her. "Come back when your kids are ready for Hogwarts. I'll get you a good deal." She winked, and then the door closed with a wooden THUD.

Ginny had never felt more pathetic or misunderstood.

Returning to the Leaky Cauldron in defeat, she scribbled the same note on one piece of parchment twice and ripped it in two, throwing each note into the fire with a pinch of Floo Powder.

S.O.S.

Diagon Alley!

3 G

Ginny had not been sitting at her table at the Leaky Cauldron long enough to make a dent in her butterbeer before when a beautiful but strange girl with white-blonde hair floated into the pub.

"Luna!" she exclaimed.

"Hullo Ginny," Luna answered succinctly. Ginny stood up and threw her arms around her friend's neck. She smelled familiarly of lavender and onion grass.

"That was fast. I only just sent the message."

"Message?" said Luna quizzically. "I don't think I received any messages today. You see, I spent the entire morning at the muggle arboretum, and I was about to go home when it suddenly struck me that peacock feather quill would be just the thing to sketch up illustrations of this beautiful tree I saw, and so here I am."

"I swear, you truly are psychic."

Luna ordered a gillywater and joined Ginny at her table. She leaned in and said emphatically, "I'm not though."

"You and everyone who isn't constantly telling me I'm off the deep end is always saying I'm psychic or some sort of mystic on some level, but it doesn't really make sense. Not that I mind, but I think it's a little silly.' Luna paused. "Except Hermione."

"But the truth is, I'm surprised far too often to have any divinatory abilities. Take two days ago for example, when we had that fantastic thunderstorm. It started out as the most beautiful summer day; so nice that I decided I must go down to the lake to have a swim and dive for bog lilies, an elusive aquatic flower that Merpeople exchange as a token of eternal love. The thing is, anyone who had read the weather report that day would have known there would be a torrential storm just hours later. I didn't, and sure enough, without so much as a cloak or hood or decent shoes I was soaked to the bone and shivering two hours later. If I had premonitions I'm sure I would have had a feeling about something as natural and obvious as a storm, and if I had telepathy I would definitely have picked up on it from any of the villagers I passed on the way to the lake. But no, that rain took me completely by surprise."

"Hm," said Ginny.

"Which is to say, we have a connection." Luna was solemn, holding Ginny's gaze with her ice grey eyes. "Now please, tell me what happened to you."

With Luna there, Ginny instantly felt a bit better, and she launched into an account of everything that had gone wrong at her first real job interview. About halfway through Hermione arrived, and she had to start again, and when she finished they all ordered a round of Firewhiskey-ciders. By the time they finished the round after that they were all laughing and gossiping and confessing their dearest desires before the others, as if they sat before the Mirror of Erised, rather than a craggy wooden table littered with cloudy glasses of alcohol.

"The main problem," Hermione explained, "is that we went to Hogwarts to prepare us for one world, and by the time we graduated, it had become a completely different world altogether! I used to be obsessed with books and studying —" Ginny and Luna erupted into a false coughing fit "— aaand perhaps I still am. But the magical world is still so messed up, and it needs more than obedient citizens who sit back and follow the rules, or blindly enforce them, like some aurors we know…" *coughHARRY*, *coughRON* … "Well, the muggle word for what I want to be is an 'activist'. But I'm not sure it will make sense to wizards during peacetime… I really need to read more books…" Hermione trailed off there and started scribbling things haphazardly in a notebook while Luna and Ginny went to the bar for another round.

"If only I didn't need to stay here and look after father," Luna mused. "I would set out in search of magical plants and animals no one has ever heard of… or that they've heard of, but don't dare dream they exist. I don't mind because I'll dare for them, and bring back samples for research, and publish accounts of my fantastic adventures. Eventually I'll be known as great writer as well as an herbologist and animologist"

"—Like Gilderoy Lockhart?" Hermione pretended to swoon and they all collapsed into a fit of giggles that caused the bar's more somber patrons to shoot them sidelong glances.

When their glasses had gotten low and afternoon had turned to early evening, Hermione and Luna turned to look at Ginny. "Yerrr turn," Hermione slurred.

"Dare." she said confidently. Luna giggled.

"No, I'm serious," said Hermione crossly. "What about you."

"Oh, I dunno, " she said lamely. "Maybe I'll work for a couple years, and then just try to get the whole kids thing over with. Mum really wants me to, and if I get married young I could have all my kids in Hogwarts by the time I'm 35. Then I'd be able to do whatever I wanted."

"Is that really what you want Gin?" Hermione asked.

"Wouldn't be so bad" Ginny said with false bravado. "We'll see. If nothing better comes along."

"Oh. I suppose."

Ginny stared at the dregs of her flat beer, as her friends did the same. She knew she had disappointed them. But the truth was, when she pictured herself anywhere in the future, all she saw was a big dark shadow.

Suddenly she was tired of hanging out. She was tired and dizzy and drunk, and completely drained of entertaining things to say. "Shall I — hiccup — get the bill then?"

"'Kay."

Ginny made her way to the bar with her purse and was in the process of flagging down Tom, the landlord, when she felt her neck yanked into a headlock. She shrieked, but it turned quickly into a snarl when she realized who it was. "Blaiiise! What is wrong with you!" Blaise Zabini had strolled in with his buddies Draco Malfoy and Dean Thomas. As a result of all of the interruptions during the war, many members of Blaise, Draco, Dean and Hermione's class had come back to do their seventh year with Ginny and Luna's class, resulting in more than a few unlikely friendships. All excellent Quidditch players and social butterflies, her ex-boyfriend and the two Slytherins had formed a bit of a trio while they were finishing up their last year at Hogwarts, after the war. As the highest scoring Chaser when they graduated, Ginny was used to seeing Blaise and his gang at parties, although mostly they just yelled and bickered.

"Cool it Gin, you're making a scene," Blaise said annoyingly. "Gin, that's it. Gin! Four gins for me and my associates Tom!"

"Make it three actually. I'm actually here with Hermione and Luna, and in fact we were just leaving."

"We're only staying for one round anyway. Come on, it's on us," said Dean, putting his arm around Hermione. What do you say?"

"Well, it's still early, I suppose." Merlin! The one time Ginny needed Hermione to be 'the sensible one' she was out for lunch. Ginny of course knew that Hermione had developed a serious crush on Dean after his powerful Salutatorian speech (unsurprisingly Hermione herself had been Valedictorian), but Ginny had hoped that information hadn't made its way back to Dean yet. Current evidence suggested otherwise.

Draco Malfoy walked up to Luna, who he had never actually met and stuck out his hand. "Hello, I'm Draco."

"Oh, I know that," Luna answered without shaking his hand. "Do you know the Legend of the Lost Bog Lilies?"

"No, but I'm dying to hear about it. Do tell!" said Draco enthusiastically, and followed Luna back to a larger table, struggling to keep from laughing.

Then Ginny threw up her arms. "Whatever!"

Twenty minutes later they were all wedged into a semi-circular booth in the back of the Leaky Cauldron drinking gin. The boys had also ordered shots in an effort to catch up to Ginny, Luna and Hermione. It was definitely working. Dean, Hermione and Luna were in a heated debate about the (theoretical or real, depending on who you were) physics of wrackspurt movements, while Draco and Blaise were competing to see who could tell the most outrageous story to Ginny, who was only half listening. Really, she was alternating between being deep in her own inner monologue, and trying to practice thinking nothing at all, while still looking happy and engaged. For some reason that was the only game that interested her at the moment.

As the night grew later, Blaise took to placing his hand under the table, on Ginny's leg. When he did this, she would let him keep it there for a few minutes, before unceremoniously dumping it back in his lap. This was another game too. She didn't necessarily mind Blaise's hand being there, but it did feel irritatingly possessive, so she also felt inclined to remove it. She was here to be with her friends, not as a conquest for some guy. The next time she removed Blaise's hand from her leg she reached out with her other hand and took Luna's. Luna squeezed back and she felt happy and safe.

The next time Blaise's hand touched her leg he didn't just rest it there like before. Moving his thumb, he rubbed it across Ginny's kneecap, back and forth, and then twisted his wrist so that his long cool fingers caressed the inside of her leg and the space behind her knee. That got her attention, a little. It actually felt rather nice. As Blaise worked his way up and down her thigh, squeezing and stroking, it became more and more difficult to concentrate on the conversation. Embarrassingly, her crotch had become soaking wet, and when Blaise finally reached the apex of her legs, he felt it and the corner of his mouth twitched. Then he took his hand back and placed it on the table, and Ginny was left just holding Luna's and worrying if anyone else had realized what was going on.

Ginny seriously needed to clear her head. She stood up, mumbling something about finding the loo, and walked to the other side of the pub. She pulled back the heavy door to the women's toilet and found it was empty. Standing at the sink, she splashed cold water on her face and tried to decide what her next move was. She like Blaise, but he was more of a drinking buddy. She wasn't sure she really wanted to go home with him tonight and open up that Pandora's box.

Unfortunately, her body was telling her a different story. It definitely wanted to go home with Blaise. She wondered if her and her body might work something out.

She stepped into a stall in the deserted restroom, unlaced the front of her robes and yanked down her wet knickers, freeing her swollen cunt. With two gentle fingers she began stroking her clit, thinking about the way Blaise had stroked her knee under the table. Her mouth fell open and more moisture dripped from her opening. Finally she allowed herself to slip a finger in between her lips and deep inside herself. Moving slowly she could not help but moan. She thought about Blaise touching her deep inside and her breath became shallow. She felt weak in the knees and leaned against the side of the stall for support. Pushing in another finger, thought of the other hand she had held under the table. She thought about Luna touching her too, and how naked she felt when she looked at her with her clear grey eyes and Ginny came hard, seeing a few stars as she stared up at the spinning ceiling.

She pulled up her panties and excited the loo. On her way back to the booth, she pilfered a cigarette from someone else's table and stuck it in her mouth. Her hand smelled like pussy. Blaise looked up when she reached the table. "I need a light," she told him, leaning in close.

Tom the barman poured drinks and wiped glasses like always. He'd seen it all. He'd seen much worse.