Author's note: well it seems like there have been a lot of delays lately. Just when we'd gotten back in good shape I have to announce another one. Unfortunately, I broke my right arm right before this was due to go up. As I write a lot of the story longhand, and my type speed went from 100 wpm to around 30, this is a definite prolem. I'll only be in the cast for another month or so. I'm not putting the story on hiatus, but updates might be a wee bit further between. I'll do my best to keep posting, I promise.
Also, no reviewer responses for a while. Sorry. It's too hard to type.
Best,
Neoepiphany
p.s. Seymour—I'll do your fanart as soon as I can! Good choice.
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Chapter Twenty-Two
Ginny's Ire
"You have to go back to Grimmauld Place," Hermione said. "This is exactly the opportunity we've been looking for!" They turned down an expansive corridor with cathedral ceilings. Their footsteps echoed like thunder.
"How so?" Ron asked.
"We can find out what Mira's up to, of course," Hermione said. "Once we're all at Grimmauld Place, we can keep an eye on her all the time! Maybe we can find some kind of proof that she is the spy."
"What do you mean 'we'?" Ron asked. "I thought you were going home."
"I'll just have to tell my parents I need to stay," Hermione said. "They'll be disappointed, of course. Especially after last Christmas, but I'm sure they'll understand. They know that there are some pretty awful things happening in the wizarding world. If I just tell them that I'll be safer with you two—" She shrugged.
"Mum might be a problem," Ron frowned. "She'll definitely want to keep Harry company, but she really hates Mira."
"She does?" Harry said, startled.
"I think so," Ron replied. "I mean, she doesn't let on, but if you watch her face—her eye kind of twitches whenever Mira's in the room. It might take some convincing."
"Get Ginny to help you," Hermione said simply. "She can do it if you can't."
"I didn't say I couldn't do it," Ron said. He crossed his arms over his chest.
But Harry thought they ought to ask for Ginny's help anyway. He remembered his mental promise to tell her everything they'd been keeping from her. He supposed now was the time. "We need to talk to Ginny anyway. We ought to tell her about Snape. And about my vision," Harry said.
The hallways were deserted except for a few seventh year students, who were allowed to stay up later than anyone else. As they walked back to the common room, Ron and Hermione began arguing about something to do with the holidays. Harry automatically tuned them out.
They found Ginny sitting with Dean on one of the cushier sofas. Ron rolled his eyes in disgust when he saw that they were sitting close together and giggling. Dean seemed to be drawing something on a pad of paper that he held between them. "Do they have to do that in public?" Ron said irritably.
"Some people don't have a problem showing affection," Hermione said airily.
Harry didn't say anything. He walked around the sofa.
"Hey, Harry," Dean said. "How's it going, mate?"
Harry ignored him. "Can I have a word with you, Ginny?" he said.
They both looked a little startled. Dean looked at Ginny, an eyebrow raised. "Er, sure," Ginny said. She looked at Dean. "Give us a minute?"
"Sure," he said, standing up. He gave Harry and Ginny a furtive look as he crossed the room.
Harry sat down next to Ginny. Ron and Hermione sat down on her other side. Ginny looked back and forth in surprise, but then her expression steeled. She straightened her back and put her hands in her lap robotically. Harry thought with surprise that she looked rather like McGonagall when she frowned like that. "So," she said. "You've finally decided to share the big secret."
"What big secret?" Ron said.
"Oh, please," Ginny said, raising an eyebrow at him. "You three have been running around for months like some sort of secret agents. And ever since Snape vanished you've been ten times worse."
"Look," Harry said, "I'm really sorry we didn't tell you straight away. It's nothing personal. There just wasn't a good time."
"Don't be stupid, Harry," Ginny said, turing her cool expression on him. "But quit wasting time. Tell me whatever you want to tell me."
Harry took a deep breath, and launched into the story. He began at a whisper, starting with the newspaper article, then his vision, Hermione's discovery of de Malaise's memoirs, and finishing with their conversation with Dumbledore. Ginny didn't say a word. She listened, staring straight ahead at the back of a group of fourth years bent over their books. Occassionally she'd nod to show that she was listening.
"So," Harry finished, "we need your help."
"Convincing Mum to take the family to you-know-where for the holidays won't be a problem," Ginny said. "All we have to do is ask. She'll want to be near Harry anyway. The bigger question is when are you going to tell all this to Neville and Luna?"
"What?" Harry said, taken aback. "Why should I tell Neville and Luna?"
Ginny looked at him in genuine shock. "Oh, come on, Harry. I can forgive you for keeping me out of the loop for a while, but—" She frowned. "You're serious, aren't you? You honestly don't know why you should tell Neville and Luna." Ginny's face took on a strange expression. Harry realized with a jolt that she was angry with him. Angrier than he'd ever seen her.
"They are a part of this, you know. Who was with you in the Ministry, when the Death Eaters attacked?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "And you—" she wheeled on Ron, "who carried you—and me—out of the ministry? Who practically saved your life? And you—" she began, looking at Hermione.
"I get your point, Ginny," Hermione said irritably. "You're right. We should include them."
"No," Harry said.
"What?" Ginny looked at him. "What do you mean, no? Neville was the one who found you nearly dead last weekend. How do you think that made him feel? And Luna. Have you even talked to Luna in months? Outside of the DA, I mean."
Harry realized with a guilty pang that he hadn't. He had liked Luna, but there had just been so much going on. "No," he said quietly. "But if we include them, they'll just be in danger. I can't do that to them."
"You are an idiot," Ginny said coldly.
"Excuse me?" Harry said. He could feel his temper rising. He had managed to get a grip on it, but there had been too much going on. He was going to lose it at any moment.
"You heard me," she said. "Who do you think you are to decide that for them?"
"I think I'm their friend," Harry snapped.
"Oh, so you're not going to include them because you're their friend," Ginny said, managing to squeeze a lot of irritation into the last two words. "But Ron, Hermione, and me are okay? What, we aren't your friends anymore? We're what—your lackeys? Your sidekicks?"
"Ron," said Hermione loudly, in artificially cheery tones. "I want to show you something over there."
"Sure thing, Hermione," Ron replied loudly. The two of them stood up and sidled away toward the hearth, where they sat down next to a pair of seventh years. Their departure just made Harry angrier. He felt like he'd swallowed a boiling potion.
"Now you're being stupid," he hissed at Ginny. "I can't keep Ron and Hermione out of it."
"Why not?" Ginny demanded. "They're not your friends?"
"Of course they are!" Harry snapped. "But they're different, and you know it."
"What about me, then?"
"We needed your help!"
"Ah," said Ginny, leaning back on the sofa. "So that's it then. You tell me because you need my help. But so long as you don't need anything from them, there's no point in talking to them."
"That's not it at all," Harry sputtered.
Ginny stood up. She didn't look at him, but over his head, at the stairs to the girls' dormitory. When she spoke, her voice was cold and impassive. "I will help you, Harry, because I think it's important. But if you don't treat your friends any better than this, I'm not sure I want you to count me as one of them."
Harry stared at her, flabbergasted as she walked out of the common room. Dean tried to talk to her, but she pushed past him up the stairs to her dormitory. Dean looked at Harry, his jaw set.
Ron moved tentatively back toward the sofa and sat down beside Harry. "Thank you so much for your help there," Harry said.
"I've learned not to fight with my sister," Ron said. They stared at the seventh years in silence for a minute.
"Do you think she was right?" Harry asked.
"I think she has a point," Ron said carefully. "I don't know about Luna, but I think we ought to tell Neville about what happened Sunday, at least. He was the one that found you. He's probably terrified that you're going to snuff it in your sleep."
Harry watched the seventh years for a moment. "We should finish our homework," he said tonelessly.
"Yeah," Ron said. "Hermione said the same thing. Except we left our bags in the library."
Harry groaned. They couldn't do any more homework now. It was well past curfew—they'd never make it to the library now. He could use the invisibility cloak, of course, but he didn't really have the energy to take such a risk just so that they could finish carniverous mushroom essays. They'd have to make an early start of it in the morning.
"I'm going to bed then," he said. He wished Ron and Hermione goodnight, and walked up to the dormitory. He wasn't really tired, though. He was angry. He wanted to yell at Ginny, but he wasn't sure it was her he was angry at. When he really thought about it, she was right. He hadn't been fair to Neville and Luna. He forced the idea out of his head, and tried to concentrate on remembering the seven principles of safe human transfiguration.
He changed into his pajamas and slumped back onto his bed. After a few minutes, Dean came up into the dormitory. Harry ignored him as he rummaged around in his nightstand, pulled out a leather pencil-bag, an headed for the stairs. Dean paused near the foot of Harry's bed.
"Harry? You awake?" he said.
"Yeah," Harry said. He stared at the stone ceiling.
"What did you and Ginny talk about?" he asked.
Harry stared at the ceiling for a moment longer. "Nothing," he said at last.
"Right," Dean said, and left the dormitory. Harry pulled the curtains closed, and after a while, he heard the sound of others getting ready for bed.
The next day, Harry and Ron were up well before sunrise to finish their essays. They made a rather hurried job of it, though, and Harry worried that Professor Garlick would think that he was a bit of an idiot.
Harry's exhaustion seemed to go on for days, and as the last few days before the Christmas holidays approached, he found that he was looking forward to the break more than he ever had. Mrs. Weasley's owl had arrived at Hogwarts a few days previously, and, just as Ginny had predicted, she had said that of course the entire Weasley clan—or at least, as much of it as was available—would be keeping Harry company in Grimmauld Place. Hermione's mum and dad also sent word that they would be sorry to see another holiday without her, but if she would be safer and happy at school, then of course she should stay.
The school itself was full of end-of-term excitement. The usual decorations had gone up all over the school. Six giant Christmas trees stood in the Great Hall, each one festooned with everlasting icecicles, red and gold ribbons, and twinklin faries that floated up and down among the branches, tittering and chirping happily. Professer Flitwick had charmed pretty multi-colored bubbles to float around his classroom. They spent their last class of term reviewing various charms by having a tin-soldier battle in the air above the classroom. Harry's side lost terribly—Neville's exploding fruit bombs had wiped out their entire forward line.
Their last potions class was even a bit of fun. They had a bit of a break and made Caroling Quaffs, a very easy potion that made the drinker burst into song. Professor Garlick passed back their essays at the end of the lesson, and as predicted, Harry and Ron both got dismal grades. Harry quickly took in the "P—Bit rushed, this, Potter! Next time put in some real effort," wadded up the parchment, and shoved it in his bag before Hermione could see it.
The last DA meeting of term was that evening. Harry went a bit early, remembering Dobby's decoratins from the previous year. Luckily, no Christmas bobbles shaped like his head adorned the walls this year. Dobby had put up ropes of silver ivy, glittering snowballs, and, of course, the traditional bundle of misteltoe. Harry gave that a wide berth.
Luna was the first to show up, again. "Hello, Harry," she said. "Looking forward to the Holidays?"
"Yeah, of course," Harry said. He felt a flush creeping up his back; he suspected he must still be guilty about what Ginny had said.
"Me too," Luna said. "Dad and I are going back to Switzerland. He met a lovely witch there, and she's invited us back for skiing."
"That sounds nice," Harry said.
"Yeah," Luna nodded. She went on, dreamily, "Oh, Ginny told me earlier that you wanted to talk to me."
"What?" Harry said. "That I—? No, I don't. I mean, yes, I do want to talk to you, but, er—" He swallowed hard and composed himself. "I just don't want to talk to you tonight. After the holidays, okay?"
"Sure, fine," Luna said. Was Harry imagining it, or had some of the airy-fairyness of her voice evaporated? He was about to say something to her when the door swung open and half the DA walked in. Luna took her seat and Harry got immediately enveloped in a conversation about vampires.
After the meeting, Harry stayed behind a bit to pack his things up. To tell the truth, he was hoping to borrow one of the defense books from the Room of Requirement for a little holiday reading. To his annoyance, Ginny hung around too.
"You didn't talk to her, did you?" Ginny said, after the rest of the DA had gone.
"Of course I did," Harry snapped back. "I talked to her a bit. But I didn't exactly have time to tell her everything, did I?"
"Did you even try?" Ginny frowned.
Harry clenched his teeth. "Ginny, are you going to be like this all holiday? Look, I promise I'll tell them, okay?" Harry tossed his things into his bag with rather more noise than necessary.
"There's no need for that," Ginny said, scowling. "So long as you promise, that's fine with me."
"I promise," Harry said, exasperatedly.
"Fine. See you around, Harry," she said coolly, and left the room.
Harry returned back to Gryffindor tower in a foul mood. He plopped down in a chair next to Ron.
"Honestly," he said, without preamble, "I don't know how you live with her."
Ron's jaw worked as he silently repeated this statement. "Her who? Hermione? Ginny? Er—Mum?"
"Ginny," Harry said. "She hung around after the—well, after, to nag me about talking to Neville and Luna."
"You are going to, aren't you?" Hermione piped up.
"Of course I am," Harry snapped at her. "I said I would didn't I?"
"All right—all right," Ron said, raising his hands defensively. "No need to get angry. Ginny's just like that. She never lets anything go."
"She's just worried about you, Harry," Hermione said.
"Worried about me?" he repeated. "Worried about me? I'd be fine if she'd leave me alone!"
"She's worried," said Hermione calmly, "that you'll lose them both as friends."
Harry scowled. "She—what?"
"Haven't you noticed that Neville's been acting funny toward us?" Hermione said. "And not that I'm complaining, but we aren't seeing as much of Luna, either."
"No—" Harry said, "But that's still no good reason for her to nag me like that."
"It's just Ginny's way," Ron said shrugging. "Nevermind. Want to work on your Defense Against the Dark Arts essay with me?"
"I've already finished it," Harry said.
"Brilliant—can I copy it?" Ron said. "Only joking, Hermione."
In the end, he and Ron played exploding snap until he was too tired t keep his eyes open, and then he followed Ron and Seamus up to bed. As he closed his eyes, he drifted off, content in the thought that in just two days, he'd have two weeks of holidays, when he could really do something in the fight against Voldemort.
Also, no reviewer responses for a while. Sorry. It's too hard to type.
Best,
Neoepiphany
p.s. Seymour—I'll do your fanart as soon as I can! Good choice.
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Chapter Twenty-Two
Ginny's Ire
"You have to go back to Grimmauld Place," Hermione said. "This is exactly the opportunity we've been looking for!" They turned down an expansive corridor with cathedral ceilings. Their footsteps echoed like thunder.
"How so?" Ron asked.
"We can find out what Mira's up to, of course," Hermione said. "Once we're all at Grimmauld Place, we can keep an eye on her all the time! Maybe we can find some kind of proof that she is the spy."
"What do you mean 'we'?" Ron asked. "I thought you were going home."
"I'll just have to tell my parents I need to stay," Hermione said. "They'll be disappointed, of course. Especially after last Christmas, but I'm sure they'll understand. They know that there are some pretty awful things happening in the wizarding world. If I just tell them that I'll be safer with you two—" She shrugged.
"Mum might be a problem," Ron frowned. "She'll definitely want to keep Harry company, but she really hates Mira."
"She does?" Harry said, startled.
"I think so," Ron replied. "I mean, she doesn't let on, but if you watch her face—her eye kind of twitches whenever Mira's in the room. It might take some convincing."
"Get Ginny to help you," Hermione said simply. "She can do it if you can't."
"I didn't say I couldn't do it," Ron said. He crossed his arms over his chest.
But Harry thought they ought to ask for Ginny's help anyway. He remembered his mental promise to tell her everything they'd been keeping from her. He supposed now was the time. "We need to talk to Ginny anyway. We ought to tell her about Snape. And about my vision," Harry said.
The hallways were deserted except for a few seventh year students, who were allowed to stay up later than anyone else. As they walked back to the common room, Ron and Hermione began arguing about something to do with the holidays. Harry automatically tuned them out.
They found Ginny sitting with Dean on one of the cushier sofas. Ron rolled his eyes in disgust when he saw that they were sitting close together and giggling. Dean seemed to be drawing something on a pad of paper that he held between them. "Do they have to do that in public?" Ron said irritably.
"Some people don't have a problem showing affection," Hermione said airily.
Harry didn't say anything. He walked around the sofa.
"Hey, Harry," Dean said. "How's it going, mate?"
Harry ignored him. "Can I have a word with you, Ginny?" he said.
They both looked a little startled. Dean looked at Ginny, an eyebrow raised. "Er, sure," Ginny said. She looked at Dean. "Give us a minute?"
"Sure," he said, standing up. He gave Harry and Ginny a furtive look as he crossed the room.
Harry sat down next to Ginny. Ron and Hermione sat down on her other side. Ginny looked back and forth in surprise, but then her expression steeled. She straightened her back and put her hands in her lap robotically. Harry thought with surprise that she looked rather like McGonagall when she frowned like that. "So," she said. "You've finally decided to share the big secret."
"What big secret?" Ron said.
"Oh, please," Ginny said, raising an eyebrow at him. "You three have been running around for months like some sort of secret agents. And ever since Snape vanished you've been ten times worse."
"Look," Harry said, "I'm really sorry we didn't tell you straight away. It's nothing personal. There just wasn't a good time."
"Don't be stupid, Harry," Ginny said, turing her cool expression on him. "But quit wasting time. Tell me whatever you want to tell me."
Harry took a deep breath, and launched into the story. He began at a whisper, starting with the newspaper article, then his vision, Hermione's discovery of de Malaise's memoirs, and finishing with their conversation with Dumbledore. Ginny didn't say a word. She listened, staring straight ahead at the back of a group of fourth years bent over their books. Occassionally she'd nod to show that she was listening.
"So," Harry finished, "we need your help."
"Convincing Mum to take the family to you-know-where for the holidays won't be a problem," Ginny said. "All we have to do is ask. She'll want to be near Harry anyway. The bigger question is when are you going to tell all this to Neville and Luna?"
"What?" Harry said, taken aback. "Why should I tell Neville and Luna?"
Ginny looked at him in genuine shock. "Oh, come on, Harry. I can forgive you for keeping me out of the loop for a while, but—" She frowned. "You're serious, aren't you? You honestly don't know why you should tell Neville and Luna." Ginny's face took on a strange expression. Harry realized with a jolt that she was angry with him. Angrier than he'd ever seen her.
"They are a part of this, you know. Who was with you in the Ministry, when the Death Eaters attacked?" she said, crossing her arms over her chest. "And you—" she wheeled on Ron, "who carried you—and me—out of the ministry? Who practically saved your life? And you—" she began, looking at Hermione.
"I get your point, Ginny," Hermione said irritably. "You're right. We should include them."
"No," Harry said.
"What?" Ginny looked at him. "What do you mean, no? Neville was the one who found you nearly dead last weekend. How do you think that made him feel? And Luna. Have you even talked to Luna in months? Outside of the DA, I mean."
Harry realized with a guilty pang that he hadn't. He had liked Luna, but there had just been so much going on. "No," he said quietly. "But if we include them, they'll just be in danger. I can't do that to them."
"You are an idiot," Ginny said coldly.
"Excuse me?" Harry said. He could feel his temper rising. He had managed to get a grip on it, but there had been too much going on. He was going to lose it at any moment.
"You heard me," she said. "Who do you think you are to decide that for them?"
"I think I'm their friend," Harry snapped.
"Oh, so you're not going to include them because you're their friend," Ginny said, managing to squeeze a lot of irritation into the last two words. "But Ron, Hermione, and me are okay? What, we aren't your friends anymore? We're what—your lackeys? Your sidekicks?"
"Ron," said Hermione loudly, in artificially cheery tones. "I want to show you something over there."
"Sure thing, Hermione," Ron replied loudly. The two of them stood up and sidled away toward the hearth, where they sat down next to a pair of seventh years. Their departure just made Harry angrier. He felt like he'd swallowed a boiling potion.
"Now you're being stupid," he hissed at Ginny. "I can't keep Ron and Hermione out of it."
"Why not?" Ginny demanded. "They're not your friends?"
"Of course they are!" Harry snapped. "But they're different, and you know it."
"What about me, then?"
"We needed your help!"
"Ah," said Ginny, leaning back on the sofa. "So that's it then. You tell me because you need my help. But so long as you don't need anything from them, there's no point in talking to them."
"That's not it at all," Harry sputtered.
Ginny stood up. She didn't look at him, but over his head, at the stairs to the girls' dormitory. When she spoke, her voice was cold and impassive. "I will help you, Harry, because I think it's important. But if you don't treat your friends any better than this, I'm not sure I want you to count me as one of them."
Harry stared at her, flabbergasted as she walked out of the common room. Dean tried to talk to her, but she pushed past him up the stairs to her dormitory. Dean looked at Harry, his jaw set.
Ron moved tentatively back toward the sofa and sat down beside Harry. "Thank you so much for your help there," Harry said.
"I've learned not to fight with my sister," Ron said. They stared at the seventh years in silence for a minute.
"Do you think she was right?" Harry asked.
"I think she has a point," Ron said carefully. "I don't know about Luna, but I think we ought to tell Neville about what happened Sunday, at least. He was the one that found you. He's probably terrified that you're going to snuff it in your sleep."
Harry watched the seventh years for a moment. "We should finish our homework," he said tonelessly.
"Yeah," Ron said. "Hermione said the same thing. Except we left our bags in the library."
Harry groaned. They couldn't do any more homework now. It was well past curfew—they'd never make it to the library now. He could use the invisibility cloak, of course, but he didn't really have the energy to take such a risk just so that they could finish carniverous mushroom essays. They'd have to make an early start of it in the morning.
"I'm going to bed then," he said. He wished Ron and Hermione goodnight, and walked up to the dormitory. He wasn't really tired, though. He was angry. He wanted to yell at Ginny, but he wasn't sure it was her he was angry at. When he really thought about it, she was right. He hadn't been fair to Neville and Luna. He forced the idea out of his head, and tried to concentrate on remembering the seven principles of safe human transfiguration.
He changed into his pajamas and slumped back onto his bed. After a few minutes, Dean came up into the dormitory. Harry ignored him as he rummaged around in his nightstand, pulled out a leather pencil-bag, an headed for the stairs. Dean paused near the foot of Harry's bed.
"Harry? You awake?" he said.
"Yeah," Harry said. He stared at the stone ceiling.
"What did you and Ginny talk about?" he asked.
Harry stared at the ceiling for a moment longer. "Nothing," he said at last.
"Right," Dean said, and left the dormitory. Harry pulled the curtains closed, and after a while, he heard the sound of others getting ready for bed.
The next day, Harry and Ron were up well before sunrise to finish their essays. They made a rather hurried job of it, though, and Harry worried that Professor Garlick would think that he was a bit of an idiot.
Harry's exhaustion seemed to go on for days, and as the last few days before the Christmas holidays approached, he found that he was looking forward to the break more than he ever had. Mrs. Weasley's owl had arrived at Hogwarts a few days previously, and, just as Ginny had predicted, she had said that of course the entire Weasley clan—or at least, as much of it as was available—would be keeping Harry company in Grimmauld Place. Hermione's mum and dad also sent word that they would be sorry to see another holiday without her, but if she would be safer and happy at school, then of course she should stay.
The school itself was full of end-of-term excitement. The usual decorations had gone up all over the school. Six giant Christmas trees stood in the Great Hall, each one festooned with everlasting icecicles, red and gold ribbons, and twinklin faries that floated up and down among the branches, tittering and chirping happily. Professer Flitwick had charmed pretty multi-colored bubbles to float around his classroom. They spent their last class of term reviewing various charms by having a tin-soldier battle in the air above the classroom. Harry's side lost terribly—Neville's exploding fruit bombs had wiped out their entire forward line.
Their last potions class was even a bit of fun. They had a bit of a break and made Caroling Quaffs, a very easy potion that made the drinker burst into song. Professor Garlick passed back their essays at the end of the lesson, and as predicted, Harry and Ron both got dismal grades. Harry quickly took in the "P—Bit rushed, this, Potter! Next time put in some real effort," wadded up the parchment, and shoved it in his bag before Hermione could see it.
The last DA meeting of term was that evening. Harry went a bit early, remembering Dobby's decoratins from the previous year. Luckily, no Christmas bobbles shaped like his head adorned the walls this year. Dobby had put up ropes of silver ivy, glittering snowballs, and, of course, the traditional bundle of misteltoe. Harry gave that a wide berth.
Luna was the first to show up, again. "Hello, Harry," she said. "Looking forward to the Holidays?"
"Yeah, of course," Harry said. He felt a flush creeping up his back; he suspected he must still be guilty about what Ginny had said.
"Me too," Luna said. "Dad and I are going back to Switzerland. He met a lovely witch there, and she's invited us back for skiing."
"That sounds nice," Harry said.
"Yeah," Luna nodded. She went on, dreamily, "Oh, Ginny told me earlier that you wanted to talk to me."
"What?" Harry said. "That I—? No, I don't. I mean, yes, I do want to talk to you, but, er—" He swallowed hard and composed himself. "I just don't want to talk to you tonight. After the holidays, okay?"
"Sure, fine," Luna said. Was Harry imagining it, or had some of the airy-fairyness of her voice evaporated? He was about to say something to her when the door swung open and half the DA walked in. Luna took her seat and Harry got immediately enveloped in a conversation about vampires.
After the meeting, Harry stayed behind a bit to pack his things up. To tell the truth, he was hoping to borrow one of the defense books from the Room of Requirement for a little holiday reading. To his annoyance, Ginny hung around too.
"You didn't talk to her, did you?" Ginny said, after the rest of the DA had gone.
"Of course I did," Harry snapped back. "I talked to her a bit. But I didn't exactly have time to tell her everything, did I?"
"Did you even try?" Ginny frowned.
Harry clenched his teeth. "Ginny, are you going to be like this all holiday? Look, I promise I'll tell them, okay?" Harry tossed his things into his bag with rather more noise than necessary.
"There's no need for that," Ginny said, scowling. "So long as you promise, that's fine with me."
"I promise," Harry said, exasperatedly.
"Fine. See you around, Harry," she said coolly, and left the room.
Harry returned back to Gryffindor tower in a foul mood. He plopped down in a chair next to Ron.
"Honestly," he said, without preamble, "I don't know how you live with her."
Ron's jaw worked as he silently repeated this statement. "Her who? Hermione? Ginny? Er—Mum?"
"Ginny," Harry said. "She hung around after the—well, after, to nag me about talking to Neville and Luna."
"You are going to, aren't you?" Hermione piped up.
"Of course I am," Harry snapped at her. "I said I would didn't I?"
"All right—all right," Ron said, raising his hands defensively. "No need to get angry. Ginny's just like that. She never lets anything go."
"She's just worried about you, Harry," Hermione said.
"Worried about me?" he repeated. "Worried about me? I'd be fine if she'd leave me alone!"
"She's worried," said Hermione calmly, "that you'll lose them both as friends."
Harry scowled. "She—what?"
"Haven't you noticed that Neville's been acting funny toward us?" Hermione said. "And not that I'm complaining, but we aren't seeing as much of Luna, either."
"No—" Harry said, "But that's still no good reason for her to nag me like that."
"It's just Ginny's way," Ron said shrugging. "Nevermind. Want to work on your Defense Against the Dark Arts essay with me?"
"I've already finished it," Harry said.
"Brilliant—can I copy it?" Ron said. "Only joking, Hermione."
In the end, he and Ron played exploding snap until he was too tired t keep his eyes open, and then he followed Ron and Seamus up to bed. As he closed his eyes, he drifted off, content in the thought that in just two days, he'd have two weeks of holidays, when he could really do something in the fight against Voldemort.