Shahrezad1 - pulling a daffidil out of a chocolate chip cookie Err, dear, next time keep the two separate, will you? They'll taste/smell better… Lol. Glad you like my start! Here's the next part… let's see what kind of trouble Harry's been into, shall we?
MetroDweller – You know boys, always thinking they're actually thinking. If it weren't for us females, nothing would get done around here. Hee hee… (sorry, any gentlemen reading, just a little lighthearted fun at your expense). Anywhoo. Don't get used to the lighthearted and sweet stuff. I got darker plans, starting now…
Mary-v – So glad you're reading and reviewing! Please continue to do both, and prop up my fragile ego. smiles
Chapter 2 – Studies of the SameGinny huffed as she clomped slowly up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. Back in classes two bloody days, and already McGonagall had assigned a four-foot scroll on the proper technique and application of cat-to-furniture transfiguration. Honestly, who would WANT to transfigure a cat into an ottoman? I mean, the poor cat, she thought, breathing hard. Damn, but there were a lot of stairs.
She finally got to the top and started down the hall to where the Fat Lady looked like she was knitting. "Muffin crumbs," Ginny said, and the portrait swung open, the Fat Lady murmuring something about 'knit two, pearle one…'.
Ginny dropped her bag with great relief on a nearby table and glanced around. People were mostly out and about still, no one wanting to admit that it was time to work again instead of time to play. Only a few odd students were scattered about, chatting or playing cards. Cara was probably somewhere with Draco, and her other dormmates had been spotted playing a highly flirtatious game of tag with some sixth-year Ravenclaw boys out on the front lawn.
By the fire, however, sat her brother and his fellow Head, Hermione, and Harry. They were relaxed and chatting softly, Hermione looking like she was describing something to the two boys from their expression. Ron looked mildly horrified, Harry amused.
They apparently hadn't noticed Ginny come in, and so she took a moment to study the three, the most famous friends in Hogwarts. There was her brother, Ron. He'd grown this summer, even more than last year, and had to be well over six feet tall now. Even better, in Ginny's opinion, he'd finally started to fill out that tall skinny frame. She gave herself credit for making him practice quiddich with her all summer. Ron gave a bark of pained laughter as Hermione said something, and she smiled. Her brother was growing up into someone nearly as good looking as Bill, she thought. And that was saying something. Although Merlin help him if he ever got a fang earring, Mum would bloody well kill him.
Her eyes drifted to Hermione, who was sitting with her feet curled under her as she told whatever her story was. Hermione hadn't changed much over the summer. Still small and daintily built, still with that wildly crazy hair and over-developed sense of responsibility, still with that deep loyalty to Ron and Harry. No one had been surprised that Hermione had gotten Head Girl, frankly, they probably would have died of shock if she hadn't. On the train, Hermione had let slip that she'd been doing some reading about repelling mid-level curses, and didn't Harry and Ron think they should do a little practice on their own before it came up in class? Ron had looked at her and laughed, while Harry had grinned and told her that she never changed.
And then there was Harry. Ginny slowly settled down into a seat as her eyes fixed on the dark-haired boy's profile. He'd grown this summer, too. Up and out. He wasn't as tall as Ron, of course, but heavens, he was taller. Whatever he'd done this summer, it had to have included something physical, as well, because there was definitely more to him than there had been last year. His face was sharper, eyes clearer and body more controlled. Not that she would notice any of those things.
Unconsciously, Ginny sighed and forced her eyes away from the green-eyed object of her musings. She pulled out her Charms book and set it in her lap, staring down into it blankly.
Three days back, and Harry was already clearly going out of his way to avoid any contact with her. Oh, sure, he smiled and joked and laughed, and carried on conversations, but he didn't so much as clap her on the shoulder in passing as he did Ron. And that teasing that had been there at the beginning of last year… he'd started ruffling her hair, dropping an arm around her shoulders, kicking her under the table. Silly little things that had meant the world to her.
And then stupid Bellatrix had happened and it had all stopped. Harry had gotten serious and started going off on his own, and not even Ron had been able to get him to talk about it. Supposedly there'd been a night spent in the Astronomy Tower with none other than Draco Malfoy, but even that Harry was closemouthed about. And there had been no more casual hugs, no more thrills and hopes that he might feel something back.
"Stupid git," she muttered under her breath as she flipped a page a little violently. The kicker of it was, she was pretty sure he knew what he was doing. There had been that day she and Cara had gotten out of the hospital wing last year, and they'd been talking about Draco… some rather pointed things had been said, and she knew Harry hadn't been blind to her meaning. She knew it. And somehow, she found herself back on the outside of his life again, despite it all.
Briefly, Ginny wondered if she was really a closet masochist. Who in their right mind kept pinning after a boy who'd One, never liked her, and Two, currently refused to come into physical contact with her? Virginia Weasley, please stand up, she thought gloomily.
The problem with Harry Potter, she thought, was that he was a boy. A pig-headed, far-too-sure-he-was-right, annoyingly dense boy. Oh, she had a good idea why he'd started pulling away from them all, some stupid idea of protecting them. She growled under her breath. Ron had blown up that summer when yet another letter of Harry's had simply stated he was 'fine' and ignored Ron's rather pointed questions. Her brother had ranted and raved about what a great bloody git of a friend Harry was, and that if he didn't pull his head out of his arse and realize they were all in this together, Ron was going to have to do it for them. Lucky for Harry, he'd met them at Platform 9 ¾ and had been relaxed and smiling, much like the boy they all remembered before Sirius had died. Ginny'd looked past that, however, and seen the way all his movements were smooth and controlled, how there was a barrier behind those grass-green eyes that hadn't existed before. Harry'd figured out how to show only what he wanted, and she hated it. Ron hadn't noticed, he'd just been too glad to have his mate back. She wasn't even sure if Hermione had seen it yet, although she gave it a little time.
She tossed her Charms book aside and instead pulled out her red notebook, the one Hermione had given her for her birthday. She liked the muggle item, it was rather handy. It had become her 'Harry' book. She flipped the pages, scanning her notes. When she hadn't been playing quiddich with Ron, she'd been reading. Planning.
Harry might have decided he would stand alone this year, but Ginny had news for him. NO ONE got rid of a Weasley. Not even the Boy-Who-Lived.
Ginny had been studying them from her corner on the other side of the common room for the past few minutes. She thought no one had seen her come in, but Harry'd known. He always knew where she was, it was like having a built-in radar. Sometimes it was damn irritating.
Hermione finished telling her story about the patient who'd come in with his teeth superglued together and how her parents had tried just about everything to get them apart, and Ron was still confused about the whole dentist thing. And she was explaining to him yet again. Harry watched them and grinned. Frankly, he wondered just how long it would take Ron to crack and kiss Hermione senseless. He and the rest of their dormmates had a bet going. Dean said two months, Seamus had nine weeks, Neville by Christmas, and Harry'd got for the Easter Holidays. He didn't have a lot of faith in Ron's confidence where Hermione was concerned, especially since the big git refused to acknowledge there was anything between them.
Ginny would probably want in on the bet, he caught himself thinking before he gave a mental shake. You worked on this, Potter, he told himself. All damn summer long, and last year. You worked on getting Ginny Weasley out of your head. She's not for you. No one is.
Harry stretched his legs out, slumping lower in his chair and getting comfortable as the Head Boy and Girl began to bicker about whether it was possible to magically stick someone's teeth together and whether it should be tried on a Slytherin in the next week or two. He grinned again. God, they were funny.
He dropped his gaze and stared at his feet, tuning the two of them out. He'd made himself get up and run the last two mornings, reluctant to loose that exercise now that school had started. Besides, it would keep him in shape for Quiddich. McGonagall had already started dropping hints about wanting to keep the Cup on her desk another year, and they were all still waiting for the captains to be posted. Frankly, he rather hoped it was Ron. Harry had enough to deal with, what with classes, sneaking off to practice by himself, and soon quiddich. Being captain would be more work on top of it.
"Oi, Harry, don't you think a Sticking Charm, if you aimed it right?" Ron interrupted his musings.
Hermione rolled her eyes. "For that last time, Ron, Sticking Charms only work on inanimate objects," she lectured. "Honestly, have you been listening in class the last few years at all?"
Harry grinned as he tuned back in. "I dunno, Mione, some of those Slytherins might just count as inanimate. Crabbe, for example."
Ron laughed with him as Hermione sputtered, reluctantly amused despite herself. "That's just mean," she said weakly, lips twitching. She glanced up and around, clearly looking for a new topic of conversation, and spotted Ginny over in her corner. "Ginny!" she called. "What are you doing over there? Come on over and join us."
Harry didn't have to look as the redheaded girl got up and strolled over to know that time had slowed down until all there was left was her walking, one slow hip-rolling step at a time, over to sit across from him on the couch with Ron.
"It was too far to come with my bookbag," Ginny said, wrinkling her nose. Harry watched her covertly, not even looking, yet seeing her perfectly clearly in the corner of his eye. "I swear, the professors are out to get us this year. I have four feet due this week for McGonagall! Already!"
Ron dropped an arm around his sister and looked uncharacteristically serious. "Actually, Hermione and I had a prefects meeting yesterday with Dumbledore, and they told us that what with You-Know-Who getting so strong, this year was going to be rough. Loads of homework for all, especially in Defense."
Ginny snorted. "Right. And Bill's just going to hate giving us extra work," she said. Harry had to admire her, she refused to get dragged down in all the tense energy that was in the air these days. He wasn't able to do that. It just made him work harder to be ready to beat it, if he could. Harry flexed his right hand unconsciously. He still needed to get that Blood-Boiling Curse stronger, faster, if he was going to be able to…
Ron was speaking again. "I dunno, Gin, haven't you looked at the teachers lately?" he said, still uncharacteristically serious. Come to think of it, all the Weasleys had a habit of finding the bright side of things. It was himself and Hermione who were generally the serious ones of the group. "They're tense. Waiting for something to happen."
Hermione nodded, eyes dark. "I've been getting the Daily Prophet this summer," she said. "According to it, the wizarding world's on the brink of panic, just waiting for the axe to fall. And Fudge isn't really helping things, claiming he can't be distracted to speak to the press."
Harry stayed silent. It would do him no good to make a comment about Minister of Magic Cornelius Fudge. He hated the man, had since he'd met him. He hated him more after fifth year and the way the man had handed the school over to Umbridge. He glanced at his hand, still able to see faint scars from that damned quill.
He glanced up to see Ron regarding him seriously, if not a little anxiously. "Oi, mate, you ok?" his friend asked.
He had to remember not to let himself get distracted like that, he thought as he pulled himself together. Not get sucked down in his thoughts and miss what was going on around him. "Constant vigilance," he finally said. "Screw Fudge and the Prophet. Voldemort's coming, and nothing anyone can do will stop him." He felt his eyes darken, felt the magic surging inside him and tamped it down with an effort. "Nothing to do but get ready and wait."
They were all looking at him now, and it made him rather uncomfortable. Too reminiscent of all that Boy-Who-Lived crap from fourth year. Ron and Hermione were staring with rather surprised looks, probably because last year he'd hardly opened his mouth on the subject. He'd picked up that it wouldn't work this year, Ron had been blaring his thoughts so loudly at the train station, it had been impossible to miss. So he would say his piece and then let them think what they would.
"I'm glad you're talking about it, Harry," Hermione said quietly. "I was a little worried, considering how short your letters were this summer."
Ron snorted. "If I got one more bloody 'I'm fine' note, I was going to come over and hex you myself," he mumbled, a gleam in his eyes. Blue Weasley eyes, the same as his brothers. Not like the brown ones currently studying his face.
"Are you ever going to tell us about it, Harry?" the owner of those eyes said now, voice quiet. "We know you're keeping something to yourself." Harry felt himself start to go cold inside. Stop, Ginny, he thought. Before I have to make you.
"And you're going off alone last year, are you going to tell us about that?" she kept going, apparently not getting his mental messages. Off the three people sitting around him, the people who mattered most in his life, she was the one he was afraid of. Because whether she realized it or not, she was the one he worried could break him down and destroy him.
"Gin," he cut in across her, interrupting. "Drop it." He looked her full in the eyes, those gorgeous brown eyes that were currently narrowed on his face and sent a wave of mental energy at her. Just leave it alone, he silently begged. Don't drag this down, not now, not yet. He wanted at least a few moments of cheerful relaxation to keep him going this year.
But the owner of those eyes was too damn smart and nosy for her own good, and she glared at him. "Drop it? You want me to drop it?" she demanded. "How about, hell no?" She sat forward. "Ron and Hermione are too damn worried about you to be a pest about it, but screw that. You're a big boy, Potter, grow up and get over yourself."
Harry wanted to laugh. She had no idea… "Ginny, look, I'm sure when Harry's ready, he'll let us know what he's been thinking about…" Hermione tried to smooth over.
Harry interrupted her, this time. "No, Mione," he said calmly, eyes dead center on Ginny's. "I won't be. Where I go, what I'm thinking, what I know, it doesn't concern you, any of you. And I'll be damned if I'll drag you all into this more than you already are." He could feel his control slip just a little and struggle to rein it in. Damn it all, Ginny was about the only one who could make him do this. Ron was already starting to rub his temples as if they ached.
"Understand this, Ginny," he said softly, as serious as he could be. Some part of him hating himself. "I won't tell you a bloody thing. Not when it'll get you killed." Her face was white and strained, her eyes huge and dark and angry. And hurt. He forced himself to look at Ron and Hermione as well. "This is my fight. No one else's. And the best thing you can do for me is stay well out of it."
Ron's face had darkened as Harry'd spoke, and he hated that he'd had to finally say this. Damn Ginny for bringing it up. Damn her for looking at him with those furiously wounded eyes, for ripping a piece of him off with every second that ticked away.
"Damn it, Potter, I thought we'd settled this," Ron growled, sitting forward.
Harry met his friend's eyes, knowing the very blankness of his expression would be pissing his friend off. "I'm sorry, Ron," he said, very softly. "But I won't let you."
"You won't let me? You won't let me??" Ron surged to his feet to tower over Harry. Bloody hell, his friend was tall. The guy in Harry refused to sit while someone else got to loom over him, and Harry rose as well. "Where the fuck do you get off saying you won't let me do something?"
Harry took a step closer, only about a foot between them. Hey, he wasn't as short as he'd thought. Ron still had him by several inches and probably a few pounds, but he figured he at least stood a chance in a fistfight. Not that he'd let that happen. "You're my best damn friend, Ron," he said flatly. "All of you. And you can't help, anyway." He instantly regretted saying that, knowing Hermione and probably Ginny would catch his little slip. Bloody hell.
Before they could think on it too long, he stepped back, away from Ron and shook his head. "Look, just accept it," he said quietly. "Listen to what I'm saying and do like I'm telling you. You're Head Boy, Ron, you've got enough to deal with this year. And you'll probably have to deal with more than you think." An image of students running through the dark corridors in terror flashed through his mind. "You can't help me. And I won't let you."
He turned then and headed for the portrait, muscles tense as his senses carefully tracked the people behind him. He was half expecting one of them to petrify him on his way out. The Fat Lady closed behind him, however, without a curse following, and he took a deep breath.
Damn, damn, double damn. Harry turned and started for the Room of Requirement. He might as well start practicing now. It wasn't as if he had anything better to do. And he rather felt like ripping something to shreds.
Those brown eyes lingered with him, however, haunting the back of his mind even as he hurled curses and twisted and rolled and panted in exertion. Damn Ginny Weasley.
Draco Malfoy was coming back from a rather satisfying encounter in a third-floor broom closet with Cara, when he turned down the corridor of the Room of Requirement in time to see the door open and Potter step out.
Draco raised an eyebrow. Apparently Potter was up to something in there, because he looked rather like Draco used to, last year. Sweaty, singed and weary.
Potter looked at him, but didn't change a muscle. "Malfoy," he said with a wary nod.
Draco studied him, steps slowing. Potter looked like shit, he decided. Oh, sure, no one would probably notice, but it was in his eyes, the very blankness of them. Not that it was any of his concern.
Still, on his way past, he drawled, "Potter. Better stop in at Moaning Myrtles before dinner," and continued on his way.
Behind him, he could all but feel the magic leaking off the other boy. What was going on with him, he couldn't help but wonder. He turned the corner and felt the presence behind him stop. Whatever it was, the Boy Wonder better wise up or he'd self-destruct. Draco shrugged. Not that it was any of his concern, he reminded himself again.