Harry's Dilemma
Chapter Four
Ginny Weasley had
never felt worse in her life. She had
thought that the humiliation of being made the catspaw of Voldemort by way of a
magical diary was the ultimate mortification a trainee witch could
experience. She had been wrong. To have challenged Harry – here her flesh
crawled with shame at the memory – and to have been defeated, when she had been
so sure she could triumph! To have
fallen for the oldest trick in the book – for all her studies, all her vaunted
prowess, she had learned precisely nothing. Duped by Tom Riddle, she had been effectively duped by Harry Potter in
the same manner and by the same weakness – her compassion. With an audible groan, Ginny lay her head on
the Fifth Year Girls' Dorm table and wished for death.
"Oh Ginny." Said a low
sympathetic voice, and a gentle hand smoothed her shining red hair. Ginny looked up briefly into the concerned
face of her best friend Maryam, then let the darkness return.
"Ginny, you've got to
pull yourself together." Maryam's voice
held a trace of panic. "Your studies have really gone downhill – I heard
Professor McGonnagle say that she's going to have to speak to your parents –
and what's more you're not eating: you've got really thin. At least come down to supper this evening. Please?" Maryam shook her friend lightly on the shoulder and Ginny, more in
response to the persistence than to any great need for sustenance, mechanically
began to get up from her chair.
As they entered the
Great Hall, Ginny noted with dull relief that neither Harry, Ron nor Hermione
were present. She sat down at the
Gryffindor table and mentally began to perk up at the prospect of a good, hot
meal.
"Steak and kidney
pudding." Announced Maryam, smiling, "Your favourite!" Alarm bells started ringing quietly in
Ginny's head. Harry was partial to
steak and kidney: surely this was one meal he wouldn't willingly miss? She was right.
"Do you mind if I sit
here, Ginny?" a well-recognised voice in her ear made her spine stiffen
reflexively and her complexion colour. She put both hands on the table, preparatory to legging it at high speed
back to the dormitory, when another hand clamped tightly on her wrist. Freezing, she stared unbelievingly at the
contact, then at the owner of the hand. Harry sat next to her, his cooling dinner untouched in front of him, a
determined expression in his startlingly green eyes.
"Sit down." He said
quietly, "Everyone's staring." Ginny
did so automatically, then glanced about furtively to check the truth of
Harry's statement. It was slightly
exaggerated: the one or two heads that had changed direction at her escape
attempt had now returned to their suppers. Confused, embarrassed, horrified, Ginny sat numbly at the dinner table
staring at nothing. Harry's hand retained
its grasp on her arm for a moment, as if he were afraid she really would run
away, then slowly he removed it and turned towards his supper.
"I'd eat that before
it gets cold if I were you." He began, conversationally, "It's really very
good, and I hear on the grapevine that you're cutting too many meals." Ginny had lost what little appetite she'd
had, and had completely forgotten about the plate of food steaming succulently
under her nose. She stared at it as
though it had just escaped from the Forbidden Forest, then mechanically started
to fork it into her mouth without really tasting it.
"Good girl." Harry
said approvingly, placing his own knife and fork down side by side on his empty
plate. "Now, perhaps we can get this thing sorted out." With a mouthful of food, Ginny raised
panic-stricken eyes to him and shook her head wildly.
"Relax," he said,
soothingly, "I don't mean in here – that is, if you're willing to come
somewhere a little less public to talk to me. But make no mistake, Ginny, we are going to sort this out one way or
another this evening, and if you force me to air our private business in the
Great Hall, with all the attendant risks of being overheard, then so be
it." There was no mercy in his
expression, and Ginny felt the food in her mouth turn to ashes. She swallowed with difficulty, then placed
her cutlery on her plate, the meal only half eaten. Defeated, she slowly started to rise from the table, only to have
Harry's hand grip hers warningly for the second time that evening. Angrily, she stared at him.
"Do you think I want
to talk to you here, in front of everyone?" she hissed, in mortification. Surprised, he released her.
"Don't you want any
pudding? It's blackberry and apple
crumble." Ginny could no more have
eaten the sweet than fly without a broomstick. Harry cast a wistful look at the dishes now just beginning to appear.
"Pity." He muttered
then squaring his shoulders, he gestured for Ginny to lead the way out of the
dining hall. Miraculously, no one
commented or even seemed to notice their departure – not even Malfoy.
Once in the corridor,
Ginny turned enquiringly to Harry.
"Where do you want to
go?" Harry considered: the Gryffindor
Common Room was out of the question – too great a risk of being interrupted;
Madame Pince would still be in the library; their respective dormitories were
seriously out of bounds; it was too cold for walking in the grounds. Suddenly, Harry had a brainwave. He set off through the winding corridors of
Hogwarts castle, past the library until he came to a halt in front of a pair of
huge wooden doors. Ginny paled visibly.
"Are you deliberately
trying to torture me, Harry?" she said, between her teeth as she recognised the
Hogwarts gym, where she had all too recently met her Waterloo. He shrugged.
"It's the only place I
could think of where we could depend upon complete privacy. No-one will come within a mile of the place
at this time in the evening."
"I hope you're right."
She responded, pushing open the doors in resignation.
**********************
"Ron, what on earth's
come over you? All I said was 'good
evening' for heavens sake!" Hermione
was practically running down the corridor, chasing after a furious Ron who had
stormed out of the dining room.
"Leave me alone,
Hermione!" he shouted back over his shoulder, "Go and finish your dinner, don't
mind about me. Perhaps you and Harry
could conjure up a couple of candles and a glass or two of wine from the
kitchens. What a laugh, what a great
joke!"
"What in heaven's name
are you talking about? Harry and me
…? Look, there's nothing between us,
nothing at all – and anyway, why should you care? Only the other day you were trying to persuade me that it was a
good idea – 'you'd make a lovely couple' were your exact words, I believe!"
"Oh, that's
right! Throw my own words back into my
face, why don't you? Just because he's
Harry the Hero, the Great Harry Potter, Voldemort's nemesis, all that other
claptrap, you fall over your own feet in the rush to get at him. Honestly, it makes me want to puke!"
"For goodness sake
slow down – I can't keep up with … Owwff!" In trying to increase her speed, Hermione had caught her heel on an
uneven flagstone and was sent crashing to the very hard floor. Quick as lightening, Ron spun on his heel
and ran back to her.
"'Mione, are you
okay?" She couldn't speak or breathe,
just kept waving her hands futilely in front of her. He lifted her quickly to a sitting position and held her upright.
"'Mione!" Ron's voice
was urgent, "What's the matter?" Suddenly, she gave a huge ragged gasp and started to breathe again. Moments later she could speak.
"I'm okay, Ron, the
impact just winded me." She managed to get out.
"You had me worried."
He exclaimed, helping her up. "Come on, let's go up to the Common Room. You'll feel better for a sit down by the
fire before prep." Hardly registering what
he was doing, Ron put a protective arm around her shoulders and led her
carefully down the corridor. As they
made their way towards Gryffindor Tower, Hermione felt a smile spread itself
over her face, and a strange warm feeling crept over her from the tips of her
fingers to the ends of her toes.
*********************
"Lumos."
Muttered Ginny as she stepped into the gym. Immediately the whole place blazed into light. Harry winced.
"Perhaps a little less
brilliance, Ginny." He suggested tentatively. She bit her lip and toned it down.
"Nothing seems to go
right lately." She said, in a despondent voice, "Even something as simple as
this seems to backfire in one way or another." Harry looked around.
"Not very cosy, is
it?" he said, beginning to wonder if this was a good idea, "I'll see if –
there!" A comfortable-looking sofa
appeared. Harry sat at one end, then
conjured a coffee table on which he promptly rested his feet. Ginny, looking disapproving, tapped the
table with her own wand and produced two steaming cups of cocoa.
"If you want a
footstool, Harry, don't summon a coffee table!" Guiltily, Harry put his feet on the floor and reached for one of
the cups. They drank for a while in
thoughtful silence.
"Okay, Ginny," Harry
began, "Let's not beat about the bush. I know you're only here with me under duress, but please just answer me
one question: what have I done to make you hate me so much?" Ginny's blank expression changed to one of
horror.
"Hate you?" she
repeated, disbelievingly, "Harry, I've never hated you. I've been annoyed with you, angry with you
and jealous of you, but I've never hated you." Saying just this much caused Ginny's face to colour fiercely again. She buried her confusion in her cocoa.
"Jealous of me? Angry
with me? Ginny, why? I thought we were friends." Harry was completely at a loss. She was silent for a moment, then she began
to speak.
"Who wouldn't be
jealous of you, Harry Potter?" she sighed, her voice trembling slightly, "Your
natural talent, your tremendous standing in the wizarding world – for nothing
more than the accident of your birth, your ability to acquire the most amazing
champions – Hagrid, my brothers, Professor Dumbledore."
"But Ginny,"
interrupted Harry, "All these things – they come with strings attached, you know. The 'accident of my birth' means I have no
family of any relevance; my natural talents seem to bring me as much grief as
they do joy – particularly where enemies are concerned; and my champions are
only there to protect me from that which would seek to harm me (and would
probably succeed without their aid)." She shrugged.
"I know." She sighed,
"I stopped being jealous of you the night of our duel, Harry Potter. You showed me that whilst I was good, you
would always be better, because you have to be in order to survive. My secure family background means I have
others I can rely on simply because they are my family. You've always been hungry for that all your
life, I know. You've got it now, of
course, with Hermione and with Ron and the rest of us, but all those years with
the Dursleys must have made you very self-reliant." There was a pause while Harry sifted through all she had
said. It was remarkably astute for a
fifteen-year-old, and he told her so. Her reply was simple.
"I've had a lot of
time to think about it, Harry."
"You said you were
angry with me," he continued, "Would you tell me why?" Ginny buried her face in her hands and
sighed, then she straightened.
"Yes," she said, "I'll
tell you because I owe it to you. But
it's not going to be easy." There was a
very long pause and, for a moment, Harry thought she had fallen asleep.
"When I first met you,
I had a little-girl crush on you, Harry." She began, "You knew that. I
absolutely hero-worshipped you, and you were nice to me, you really were. Then, suddenly, the girls in my year started
to tease me about liking you, and it stopped being harmless fun. I was suffering for you, Harry – and you
never even noticed me." She stopped to
gather her thoughts, and Harry suddenly found a number of puzzling little
things falling into place.
"All I was to you was
Ron's pesky little sister, the kid with the crush, the embarrassing nuisance
who sent valentines and hung around when she wasn't wanted. It was ruining my status as a witch with
abilities. People were beginning not to
take me seriously, and I knew how talented I was by this time – so I did the
only thing I could do. Unfortunately, I
took it all way too far and ended up deeply offending you. I'm really sorry, Harry: I promise I won't
bother you, not ever again." By this
time tears were leaking down her crimson cheeks and into her cocoa mug. She made as if to get up from the sofa, but
Harry once again took her hand, effectively restraining her. In surprise, she looked up at him, her hair damp
with tears, her nose and eyes all red and blotchy from crying. Harry thought she looked adorable.
"Ginny," he said
softly, "When did you get over your crush on me?" It was a leading question and one that no gentleman would ask,
but Harry didn't feel particularly gentlemanly at present. Ginny gave him one startled look, then burst
into sobs.
"Wh-why are you asking
me that?" she protested. Harry took her
hands in his and forced her to turn to him.
"Look at me, Ginny,"
he said, gently but firmly tilting her chin towards him, "Answer the question:
when?" She tried to squirm away,
shaking her head furiously.
"No, Harry, please
don't make me." He transferred his
hands to her shoulders
"Do I have to use a
Disclosure charm on you?"
"Harry …" His grip
became tighter, more insistent.
"Tell me!" She cracked.
"I didn't! Okay, are you satisfied? I never got over you. The little girl crush never died, it just
grew into a big girl crush, and I can't cope with it any more. Are you happy now?" She shouted angrily at
him, wrenched herself away from his restraining hands, and ran sobbing out of
the gym. With her went the light.
"Oh, damn and blast!"
exclaimed Harry, tripping over things. By the time he had established some light of his own, neutralised their
enchantments and wrestled with the huge oak doors, she was nowhere to be
seen. Grimly, he set off down the
winding corridors once again in search of the elusive Miss Weasley. However, this time he had a pretty good idea
what he was going to do with her when he caught her.