"Look alive, Potter," said Ron, playfully nudging Harry's chair as he walked by his desk. Harry, who had been nodding off while leaning back in his desk chair, jerked awake and grasped at air before righting himself. Neville smirked at this before he returned to pruning his potted plant.

"You sleeping okay, mate?" Ron asked, settling into his own desk across from Harry's. "It's not even noon yet."

"Yeah, more or less," Harry sighed, rubbing his temple to clear the brain fog. Truthfully, his nightmares had gotten better since his meeting with Dupont, but last night was still a rough one. Harry had found himself facing down Voldemort in the Great Hall once more, but Rita Skeeter was also there, writing down his every word with her Quick-Quotes Quill, as was Garunk the Great, who appeared ready to pounce upon the Elder Wand as soon as the battle was over.

"Well get yourself sorted by Friday," said Ron. "We're going to a Quidditch match."

"We are?" said Harry.

"Yeah! Ginny got picked up by the Holyhead Harpies as a substitute. Guess one of their Chasers got a concussion from a Bludger, isn't that great? She'll be making her pro debut Friday against the Chudley Cannons!"

"Brilliant!" said Harry, though he wasn't sure if it was appropriate to celebrate another athlete's injury. "Are your parents going, too?"

"Dad is, he just told me," said Ron, suddenly sounding forlorn. "Mom still isn't speaking to her, though. I think she's just convincing herself that Ginny's off studying at Hogwarts and this whole Quidditch thing isn't real."

"Ah, I'm sure she'll come around," Harry offered optimistically. "She's just protective is all. We all saw what she did to Bellatrix Lestrange…"

"Yeah well, if you've ever been on her bad side, you'd know that wasn't even her full power," Ron frowned. "How about you, Neville? Wanna come with us?"

"Can't," Neville said. "Promised Gran I'd stop by for dinner. She's having Professor Sprout over."

"The Herbology professor?" said Harry.

"Yeah, Pomona's an old family friend," Neville beamed. "And I was one of her favorite students, so it should be a good time."

"Nice, have fun mate," said Ron. He and Harry shared a look that said they both found it odd that anyone would rather have dinner with their grandmother and ex-teacher than attend a Quidditch match. But Neville had never shown much interest in the sport, so they let it slide.

Harry was eager to attend the match, not only because he missed the sport dearly, but because he hadn't seen Ginny in weeks and was eager to speak with her. They hadn't heard back from her yet about the letter asking if she recognized the Hogwarts scepter, or if it was in fact Dawlish who approached her at the World Cup. But more importantly, he just missed her company. He still felt like they had left things on an uncertain note and wanted to see where he stood with her. This would be a good opportunity to find out for sure.

That Friday, Harry and Ron ducked out of the office early to join Arthur and pop over to the Burrow to change. Molly was conspicuously absent, giving Harry and Ron a curt hello before retreating to her room out of sight. Ron drew scathing looks from both Harry and his father when he came downstairs wearing a bright-orange jersey for the Cannons' Seeker: Gudgeon, #7. "What?" he said defensively. "I've rooted for the Cannons since I was five!"

"Your sister is playing against them, if you hadn't noticed!" said Arthur, who had changed into a bright-green jumper emulating the Harpies' colors.

"Great!" said Ron. "I hope she scores fourteen goals and the Cannons win by ten points." He would not be dissuaded from wearing the outfit, so Harry and Arthur eventually relented and they departed for the stadium.

Harry gawked at the scene when they arrived: the entire area around the stadium was crowded with people, gathered around ice chests filled with Butterbeer, Firewhiskey and other tasty drinks. "Never been to a Quidditch league match before, Harry?" asked Ron, seeing the look of awe in his friend's face.

"No," said Harry. The only two matches he'd attended outside of Hogwarts were the two World Cups, which he'd assumed were outliers when it came to fan celebrations. But the atmosphere was just as festive here, as fans mingled and toasted to their favorite teams while cursing the opposition. He imagined this was what football matches were like in the Muggle world, which the Dursleys never brought him along to; Dudley loved to come home from them and taunt Harry by describing their wonders in great detail.

To Harry's surprise, they ran into Bill and Fleur, who beckoned them over eagerly. "Managed to get the evening off after all!" Bill beamed. "And look who decided to come along!"

"I thought you weren't fond of Quidditch, Fleur?" Arthur inquired after greeting his daughter-in-law with a kiss on the cheek.

"Eet is not my favorite sport," Fleur admitted. "But an all-girl team? How fascinating! I 'ad to zee for myself."

The five of them stood around sharing drinks and chatting about nothing in particular. Harry had to force himself to stop after two Firewhiskeys; he was enjoying himself, but he wanted to be sober enough to enjoy the match. He felt so deprived of Quidditch over the past two years that he had half a mind to borrow Ron's jersey and play with the Cannons himself.

The conversation eventually turned towards Gringotts and the break-in case. "Surprisingly I haven't heard much about in the last few weeks," said Bill. "Used to be all the goblins could talk about, but something must have changed. I'm not sure what Shacklebolt's told them, but whatever it is must have calmed them down."

"That's odd," Arthur mused. "Not very often you see the goblins back down when their pride is on the line."

"I just hope the Ministry hasn't made them any promises they can't keep," muttered Bill, taking a deep swig of his drink. "Last thing we need is for tensions to flare up again." Harry deliberately avoiding eye contact with anyone at this; he still had not told anyone about his plan to give Garunk the Sword of Gryffindor. At least now he knew that he had better follow through or risk incurring the wrath of the goblins once more.

Soon the crowd began to migrate inside the stadium and find their seats. Harry felt his sense of anticipation building. Not only to see some Quidditch at long last, and not only to cheer on Ginny, but because he was eager to see the acclaimed Gwenog Jones play with his own two eyes. Hogwarts had seen some fine Beaters come through its doors during Harry's years there, but he'd never quite understood why the position needed to exist. Why couldn't there just be five Chasers? He had yet to see someone prove the position's value and wanted to have his mind changed about it.

Before long, players began zooming out of the tunnel and onto the pitch for their warm-ups. The Cannons came out first, the away team; Ron loudly cheered for each of them, drawing nasty looks from the Harpies fans seated all around them. Then the Harpies were introduced; Ginny came out third behind the other two Chasers, and Harry, Ron and Arthur bellowed their support. Gwenog Jones emerged last, even after the team's Seeker, Patricia Lowry; she was met with a roar of approval from the home crowd. Gwenog pumped her fist to acknowledge them before joining the rest of her team in formation.

The two teams lined up for the opening face-off. The referee marched out onto the field, releasing the Bludgers and the Golden Snitch before tossing the Quaffle into the air, signaling the start of the match. The Cannons gained possession first, flying in a tight V formation towards the opposing goal. Harry saw Ginny attempting to cut off the ball carrier by swooping in front of them, but he effortlessly dodged her. The Cannon lined up for a shot on goal when— Whack! His arm was hit by a Bludger just as he released the Quaffle, sending it spinning harmlessly towards the ground for a Harpy to swoop down and collect. The crowd roared in appreciation for Gwenog's pinpoint accuracy.

Harry was so used to watching the Chasers during a match that he had to force himself to focus on Gwenog. Most Beaters typically flew in formation with their team's Chasers, but Gwenog behaved more like a Seeker, flying above the action, surveying, not actively participating in offense or defense. At first Harry wondered why the Harpies would intentionally leave themselves at a disadvantage, as the Cannons outnumbered them 5 to 4 in every formation. But it didn't take long to realize just how intelligent Gwenog was, always knowing exactly where to be, exactly how to disrupt the opponent's offense while running interference for her own.

Soon Ginny got her first opportunity to make a play. She received a perfect pass from a teammate at midfield and zoomed ahead with the Quaffle, spinning effortlessly to avoid an opponent's desperate grasp at her. The Cannon Keeper readied himself for a save as Ginny reared back for her first shot attempt. Suddenly the Keeper was forced to duck as Gwenog sent a Bludger careening at his head; he was unable to recover in time to block Ginny's shot, which sailed through the center hoop. Harry and the other Weasleys leapt up and cheered as the score became 10-0 in favor of Holyhead.

Harry knew now why it was so accepted that Gwenog was considered the best Beater in Britain. She knew exactly how and when to hit the Bludgers to cause maximum disruption to the Cannons' gameplan. On the next Chudley possession, she actually managed to hit the Quaffle mid-pass with a Bludger, creating another turnover for her team. Harry noticed how she effortlessly maneuvered with the Bludgers, allowing them to chase after her for a while so that she could keep them in reserve to be hit in the future. It was like a carefully-choreographed dance, and Gwenog could seemingly make the Bludgers do pirouettes for her until it was time to smack them down the enemy's throat again.

The Cannons managed to snag their first goal after one of their Beaters wisely decided to start disrupting Gwenog rather than the Harpy Chasers, but they were already losing 70-10. Ginny managed to score her second and third goals during this run; the first was a pinpoint shot that just slipped through the Keeper's outstretched fingers, and the second was a brilliant fake that sent the Keeper zooming for the wrong hoop as she sent the Quaffle through undefended.

There was suddenly a murmur in the crowd that built to a yell, forcing Harry to turn his attention to the other side of the pitch. The Cannon Seeker, Gudgeon, was diving towards the ground after the Snitch. The Harpy Seeker, Lowry, was helplessly behind, flattened on her broomstrick in a desperate bid to catch up. Gudgeon leveled off and extended himself towards the Snitch, which was darting to and fro just a few feet over the grass. Gudgeon was inches away now, his fingertips grasping for the Snitch...but then he was forced to peel off as a Bludger threatened to smack him straight in the rib cage. The Harpy faithful applauded at the fantastic deflection, even as Lowry failed to pick up the trail and the Snitch disappeared again.

The score soon ballooned to 130-20 in favor of Holyhead as the offense systematically picked apart Chudley's defense. Ginny was unable to find her fourth goal; the Cannon Beaters had begun targeting the young rookie and forcing her into errant shots or passes to her teammates on the wings. Harry could sense Ginny's frustration even from a distance; he'd grown so used to watching her fly during Gryffindor's matches that he could read her body language on a broom instantly. Don't try to force anything, he thought, trying to project good energy towards her. Take what the defense gives you...keep playing smart…

But it ultimately didn't matter. The two Seekers had both spotted the Snitch fluttering near the Cannon goalposts, and they were neck-and-neck in pursuing it. Many players stopped to watch the chase in progress, as Lowry and Gudgeon jostled and bumped into one another, trying to gain the advantage. Harry could see Gwenog trying to line up a shot, but the Seekers were so close together that any Bludger sent their way would impact both of them. There was nothing she could do. It would come down to raw Seeker skill…

This was Harry's territory now. He watched the Snitch pursuit with bated breath, imagining himself in their shoes. It wasn't a particularly nimble Snitch; it flew largely in a straight line, with only a few feet in variation as it darted back and forth evading capture. Gudgeon appeared to have the faster broom, but Lowry was doing an excellent job of blocking him, preventing him from gaining any ground on her. They both extended their arms, elbowing one another, grasping for the Snitch…

Gudgeon made the first move, lunging at the Snitch but barely missing; it pinged off his outstretched fingers and directly into the waiting palm of Lowry, who clutched it tight in her fist. The crowd roared in approval as she shot upwards with the Snitch in her grasp, and her team converged on her to celebrate. A dominant 280-20 Harpies victory.

Harry, Ron, Arthur, Bill and Fleur extricated themselves from the crowd to walk down towards the locker rooms, eager to congratulate Ginny on her performance. First they had to make room for the Cannons to depart, looking absolutely dejected as they marched out of the stadium with muddied robes and battered broomsticks. "Good effort, boys," Ron said, clapping supportively; they barely registered him as they passed on by. Ron at least had the tact not to ask for Gudgeon's autograph, as he looked like he might rip somebody's head off if they dared to address him.

Soon the Harpies started leaving the locker room in cleaner clothes, looking less elated than Harry expected. "Good work, girls!" Arthur clapped for each of them as they passed by. Finally Ginny emerged, rolling her eyes at the sight of them but nonetheless grinning at their adulation.

"You were fantastic, darling!" said Arthur, embracing his daughter in a warm hug. "We couldn't be more proud of you."

"Nice shooting," Ron said, giving his little sister a playful punch on the arm. "Reckon you could've snuck in a fourth if you feinted the right hoop first; Jefferson was biting on every fake that direction—hey!" Harry elbowed him hard to quit the nitpicking, but he didn't seem to get the memo. Ginny smirked at the exchange.

"Nah, he's right," Ginny frowned. "I could've had five or six with tighter play. The Cannons are rubbish this year, no offense Ron, and we weren't on top form. I can't be satisfied with that."

"Nonsense, of course you can," came a brash voice from behind Ginny; Gwenog Jones had emerged from the locker room, slinging a supportive arm over her newest teammate. "My playing debut was abysmal; I hit myself with my own bat and lost five teeth. You've got talent, Weasley, don't downplay yourself!"

"Thanks," Ginny said modestly, though she clearly appreciated the compliment.

"I have your friend Potter to thank, of course," Gwenog continued casually. "He's the one that put me on to your tryout, back at the World Cup last summer."

All eyes turned to Harry. "You did?!" Ron demanded. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I...forgot," Harry stammered. That little detail had been lost in the chaos of the evening, which had ended with him taken an unconscious Ginny to St. Mungo's.

"I have a feeling it's the best hire I'll ever make," Gwenog boasted. "Frankly, I'm more interested in her Seeker skills, if Potter's reports are accurate. Lowry had a good game today, but she's been up and down all season. Might be looking for a change soon." The Weasleys all looked thrilled at this news; Ginny gave Harry an incredulous look.

"I'm...just happy for the opportunity," said Ginny, clearly too stunned to say anything more.

"Ah, I'll stamp that modesty outta you soon enough," Gwenog laughed, clapping Ginny hard in the back. "You've got swagger in you girl, I can sense it. I'll dredge it out of you in no time!" And with a wink at Harry, she strutted down the corridor toward the exit. Ron seemed to shake himself out of a stupor as soon as she was gone.

"Blimey, I was gonna ask for an autograph!" he said weakly, turning after her. "Oi, Gwen, wait up!"

There was an awkward silence between Harry and Ginny, and Arthur picked up on it immediately. "Say, did you two happen to see where the bathrooms were?" he asked aloud, and he, Bill and Fleur walked down the corridor to leave the two of them alone.

"So you're pulling the strings for my career, huh?" Ginny asked, a tone of mockery in her voice. "Could've tipped me off that was the reason I got the gig."

"I swear I didn't," Harry said quickly. "I just mentioned your name, that's all. Your tryout is what did it, I'm sure of it."

"Hmph," Ginny frowned. "Thanks, I guess."

"You really were brilliant," Harry offered. "The Cannons may be rubbish, but they're still a pro team, and you flew circles around them."

"Thanks."

"Erm...did you get my letter?" Harry asked. "About Dawlish and the scepter?"

"Oh, yeah," Ginny said. "It could've been him, but I don't remember exactly. Same with the scepter. It's all still kinda fuzzy, sorry."

"Oh. Okay, thanks anyway."

Their conversation wasn't flowing as well as Harry hoped. Usually he found Ginny easy to talk to, but now she was icy and distant. He cleared his throat, figuring it was best to skip past the pleasantries and say what was really on his mind.

"I've been seeing this French Legilimency professor," he said. "McGonagall recommended him. Supposed to help me with the nightmares and all."

"That's good," said Ginny. "Keep up with those. It'll be good for you." Harry didn't reveal the second part, that he'd stormed out of Dupont's office with no intention of returning, but instead nodded.

"It has been," he continued. "My nightmares are getting better. I still have them, but this one recurring dream has gone away." He took a deep breath. "The one about you."

"Me?" said Ginny, eyes narrowing.

"I used to see you every night," said Harry. "Dead or dying. And it was usually my fault. But since meeting with this Dupont fellow...they aren't so bad any more. I don't see you nearly as often now."

Ginny said nothing in response, studying Harry's expression with a blank one of her own. She was hard to read. Harry decided to press on…

"And it's made me realize something," he said. He reached out and took her hand; this surprised Ginny, but she allowed him to hold it. "I'm an idiot for letting you walk away. I am still scared of something bad happening to you, but I'm willing to take that chance now. I want to be with you, Ginny Weasley. You're the best thing that ever happened to me." He exhaled, his heart beating. He'd been dying to say these words for weeks, months even; his last session with Dupont had just made it more clear than ever. He gazed longingly into her eyes, trying to gauge her reaction...wishing more than anything else to kiss her…

But to his horror, Ginny slowly pulled her hand out of Harry's grip. "Harry," she said carefully, "I'm glad that you no longer think of me as a damsel in distress that always needs rescuing. I've been fighting that stereotype with you since my first year. But I don't think you're ready to be with me. Not really. You may think you are, but it's clear you still don't think of me as my own person."

"What?" Harry said, a feeling of dread coursing through his body like ice water. "That's not true at all—"

"Let me finish," Ginny said coolly. "I've done some thinking of my own the past few months. I've spent the last seven years trying to get your attention, Harry. And I spent ten years before that trying to get everyone else's, which is difficult with six older brothers. And recently I've been thinking more about what I want, not anyone else. Joining this team is the first independent decision I've made in my life, and I couldn't be happier. I did it because I wanted to, not because anyone else wanted it for me. And I think I want to explore that for a bit longer. So I'm sorry, Harry, but I want to navigate this chapter of my life on my own."

The crashing realization of Ginny's words hit Harry like a ton of bricks. "Ginny," he said, with an air of desperation in his voice, "I love you—"

"I love you too, Harry," said Ginny, but her words were curt and perfunctory. "Like I said, we're family...that'll never change. But you said you needed time, and I respected that. Now you need to respect that I need time of my own." And with that she was gone, disappearing down the corridor to rejoin her team.

Harry remained in the shadows for a few moments longer, feeling crushed. He knew Ginny was right...he had strung her along for too long, and she'd had enough. She had every right to let him down the same way he let her down. He had to accept that. It sure didn't ease the sting, though. Finally he composed himself enough to stand upright and walk out towards the exit to rejoin the Weasleys and head home.

Maybe this was a blessing in disguise, he thought. Maybe this would free him from the nightmares completely, free him of the burden of worrying about Ginny's safety all the time. Maybe it just wasn't meant to be with Ginny. That last thought threatened to shatter his heart into a million pieces, so he buried it deep into his psyche and forced himself to laugh with Ron's jokes as they headed back to the Burrow. No use dwelling in the past now. Time to dedicate himself to the present.