I had to walk a ways down the street from Neville's flat, in order to settle my breathing and possibly calm the waves of heat coming from my flushed cheeks.
Should I not have been surprised that he'd kissed me? I mean, it made sense since we had dinner at his place, which was quite a more intimate setting that some smoky old pub.
And it certainly hadn't been a bad kiss, really. Just one of those sweet, lingering, lip-to-lip kind that sent warm shivers, if there were such things, all the way down to your toes. It was just that…
Nope. I made myself disapperate before I could contemplate what "it" was, secretly realizing that it was Harry's lips that used to do that to me, and rightfully should still be. But I couldn't let my heart win the battle against my mind, not this time.
I took a moment to think through my life on the morning of July first, the day of the Healer seminar. It may have just been nerves, but the whole prospect of becoming someone so important and so needed…
Was I ready to be put into a eminence like that, again? Of course, last time, I wasn't really viewed that way, I thought spitefully. Last time I had been fooled, completely. I wasn't needed at all and certainly was not held at a level of importance.
But I suppose careers and old broken hearts are two very different things.
It's just, I'm Ginny Weasley, you know? Never had I done anything extraordinary or brave. I was just the baby sister of six accomplished older brothers, who the only thing I could hold to my name was a pretty nasty, but effective Bat-Bogey hex. And the only thing that had happened to me that held any significance, was in my first year, when Tom Riddle took control of me, and I, but not really me, did all those horrible things.
And when I was so close to death, who saved my life?
Harry did. He risked his own life to save me. I saw him when the basilisk's venom was close to fulfilling its purpose; it was probably the nearest to death Harry had ever been, and I was there.
Certain events remain engraved into you, events you shared with another person, and no matter how much you try to pull away from it, you're bonded, inescapably.
I slammed my fists onto my bedroom desk. "Damn you, Harry!" I screamed; tears released and fell down my cheeks. "I loved you, I loved you, and you…" I broke off, not desiring to declare what he did.
I wiped my face, grabbed my robes from the hook, and disappeared down the staircase.
It was time to start a new life.
The doors to the Hog Hub were propped open, and small clusters of witches and wizards filtered in before me. My hands were in the pockets of my robes; my hand clung to my wand tightly, exemplifying my on-edge feeling from the emotions I had whirled through earlier. I was surprised I was even here in one piece after apparating.
The witch at the door was tall with short golden hair, falling in ringlets down to her chin. She wore a very studious pair of brown-rimmed glasses and was passing out pamphlets to the groups.
When she came to me, she handed me a pamphlet and smiled. "You're Ginny Weasley, right?"
She caught me off-guard at her knowledge of my name. "Yes," I said charily.
She made a funny smacking sound with her teeth and lips. "Just as I thought. Ervin has mentioned you once or twice before: red hair, strong, and a special interest for Healing. Brilliant. It's your kind that we need more of. I can see it in your eyes: the drive, the zeal to get out and heal! Oh, gracious," she said, "I fear I've frightened you. Please, do come in, already."
I passed her quickly, grip still on my wand and a pamphlet in hand. Boy, that witch was something else.
Inside, at least a dozen tables lined the sides of the auditorium, each displaying a different sign for each different job opportunity that the medicine field offered.
There were hundreds of chairs, neatly lined into rows, a vender from the Three Broomsticks, selling mugs of butterbeer, and several other volunteer mediwitches and mediwizards that were performing the right way to remove bowtruckle claws, or how to brew the correct Sleeping Draught, guaranteeing dreamless, M.S.A. (Magical Sleep Association) approved slumber.
I opened the pamphlet and scanned over the paragraphs and pictures. Each page gave an ample description of each field. There were jobs listed and described here that I had never even heard of, and they greatly intrigued me.
I was about check out the Magical Veterinarian booth, out of curiosity, when a familiar face came into my view, and I felt my palms start to sweat, tightly twisting the pamphlet in my hands.
She stuck out like a raven amidst the doves. Cho Chang was here at the Healer's seminar.
The pamphlet I had been holding was reduced to a crumpled ball in an instant, as I watched Cho saunter, yes, she sauntered, into the auditorium.
Lucky she hadn't caught my eye, I thought, plotting different ways to rid Cho of her silky mane of black. I self-consciously reached at my own soft, masses of ginger that I rarely had the patience with it to call it hair.
Cho shook back her sheet of dark silk once more, as she greeted a familiar face, and I felt the anger steam inside of me. Bloody smoke could have spouted from my ears.
Lord, why couldn't she have just stuck with Quidditch?
Because it was her point in life to outshine me in everything I set my heart on.
And there I went again, fusing together careers and broken hearts. No, if Cho wanted to become a Healer, then fine. There was a shortage, anyway. I was just being irrational again, and as I strolled over to take a seat in one of the rows, I silently kept telling myself my hostility towards Cho had nothing to do with jealousy.
Not so surprisingly, I was failing in convincing myself, but I felt extremely grateful when the witch from outside stepped up to the podium and called for everyone to have a seat.
I must have had terrible luck that day, for when I faced the front, a dark curtain of black met my gaze.
With a flick of my wand, I could have set Cho's hair on fire, and rid myself of its sight.
An involuntary grin spread across my face as I imagined the effects.
