Arrivals

While the second bed in Ginny's room remained untouched, ready for Hermione's arrival, the second bed in Ron's room was being used to store everything from schoolbooks to clothes to various tricks the twins had sent him the other day. Ginny glanced over at it warily before perching at the end of Ron's bed instead.

"Have you heard from Harry lately?" she enquired, and then, upon seeing the look of delight in Ron's eyes, wished she hadn't asked.

"Nah, he's been a bit quiet. Think he needs some time to himself, you know, after Sirius, and everything. If you're so interested, you should write to him yourself," Ron suggested.

"I was just wondering," she said. "I'm not interested in Harry that way, you know that."

"Yeah, but you were, and – look, I'd rather you go out with someone like Harry, who we can trust, instead of someone like Dean. I mean, Dean's all right and all, but I don't want him going near you, Ginny."

"You're being ridiculous. I'm not interested in Harry and if it makes you feel any better, I'm not that interested in Dean either, all right? I thought I was, but I'm not."

Ron looked visibly relieved at this new bit of information, but then he frowned. "There's no one else, is there? Michael's out of the picture, isn't he?"

"Of course he is," Ginny said smoothly. "He's going out with Cho, remember?"

"Yeah. Well. Just watch it, okay?"

Ginny rolled her eyes. "Could you – for even five minutes, even – remember that I'm not a little kid? I don't need you worrying about my love life, thank you very much. Let's talk about yours, how about that?"

"All right, all right, I'll shut up," Ron said. He glanced over at the bed. "I got a letter from Percy."

Ginny immediately jumped up and went to look for it.

"It's no use," Ron called. "I ripped it up."

Ginny glared at him. "Why? You could have at least shown me before doing something stupid like that, Ron. He's our brother. I know you find it easy to hate him but some of us don't, all right?" She was afraid she was going to cry. Why was Percy writing to Ron, anyway? Why was Ron the only one he cared about?

"All right," Ron said awkwardly. "Look, I'm sorry, but he really is a git, and you know that. Remember last Christmas? He didn't even bother to come see Dad after he'd been attacked! As far as I'm concerned, he's not my brother anymore."

Ginny sighed, but she wasn't sure what to say. She couldn't defend Percy's actions. She did hate him sometimes, for everything he'd done, for the way he'd upset her parents, for the way he'd been so stubborn and blind, but she still wanted to make sure he was safe, that he was okay.

She decided a change of subject was the safest option. "When's Hermione getting here, anyway?"

"This evening, I think," Ron said. "Mum's made a cake."

"Think we can have some now?" Ginny said hopefully.

"She's put a Repelling Charm on it, you can't get near it," Ron sighed.

"What kind of cake is it?"

"Chocolate." Ron's sigh was even heavier this time.

"Hermione had better get here soon," Ginny grinned. "I'm starving."

Hermione arrived just before dinner. Ron scrambled downstairs to help her carry her trunk in, while Ginny followed at a more leisurely pace. She noted Ron's chivalry and wondered whether there was something more to it.

"Hi, Hermione," she grinned. "Mum's made a cake."

"It's chocolate," Ron added.

They made it all the way up to Ginny's room – now Ginny and Hermione's room, for the rest of the summer – before exchanging hugs. There was a stiffness about Hermione that hadn't been there before. She wanted to ask, but held back. Ron was still hovering around. Besides, it probably wasn't anything serious.

When they went downstairs for dinner, Lupin and Tonks were carrying on a conversation that ceased the moment the three of them walked in the door. Tonks smiled brightly and they both welcomed Hermione warmly, but Ginny couldn't help but wonder what they'd been talking about. It didn't have to be Order business, she supposed, it could have been something of a personal nature, even though it was strange to think of them having personal lives. She still thought of Lupin as a teacher and it was hard to see him as anything else. Tonks, perhaps; she'd told Ginny all kinds of stories about her life, but she couldn't imagine Tonks and Lupin having a conversation about, say, their love lives.

Dinner was more or less a pleasant affair. It was good to have Hermione there. She told them about how Viktor was getting on – Ron looked somewhat disgruntled at the very mention of his name – and then discussed how her OWLs had gone with Lupin.

"You'll be getting the results shortly, won't you?" he said.

Ron covered his ears at this point. As far as Ginny could see, he'd rather not get them at all. She supposed he didn't need to hear Hermione going on about how she needed certain grades if she wanted to take particular subjects at NEWT level, and the sort of classes that every career required. Ginny was amazed at her encyclopaedic knowledge; how on earth did she remember all that stuff? And why would anyone want to?

Summer was the time for letting yourself relax a bit, she thought, and giving your brain a rest. Still, Hermione did get a sort of glow about her when she spoke knowledgeably about anything. She was really quite pretty, Ginny realised. Well, she'd known that, of course, for ages, but seeing someone on a regular basis made you forget that kind of thing. No wonder someone like Viktor Krum was interested in her. Brains and beauty, Ginny thought, and wondered why half the school wasn't in love with Hermione.

And why it was her being inundated with owls from Michael, Neville and Dean. Maybe it was the Quidditch factor, she thought. Did boys have a thing about girls who played Quidditch? But that had been partly why things had ended with Michael, and Dean cared more about football than Quidditch, and Neville – well, Neville supported Quidditch for the sake of school spirit, but as far as she knew he didn't have any particular interest in it. It couldn't be that. Perhaps they just had a bizarre fetish for redheads, she pondered. Ginny was not terribly enamoured of the flaming hair that was the Weasley legacy, but she'd grown to tolerate it, at least.

It was funny how attractions developed, really. Maybe it wasn't always logical. Maybe it just happened. Perhaps she should ask Luna sometime and get a Ravenclaw's opinion on the subject, although she suspected Luna would have a slightly quirkier answer than most of her housemates. Maybe she was just never going to understand the way the male mind worked.

After dinner Hermione went upstairs to unpack. Ron followed her up, and Ginny was about to join them when Tonks called out to her.

"Any more owls today?" she enquired, smiling. Her hair was in blonde pigtails today; she looked like some Swedish milkmaid.

"Two," Ginny sighed, settling down for a conversation. "Neville's still talking about coming for a visit, and Michael's thinking about breaking up with Cho."

"Really? I thought they sounded like the perfect couple."

"I think it's a new tactic he's trying to make me jealous," Ginny said. "Going on about how wonderful she is didn't work, so now he's saying that he misses me more than he realised and wants to know if we could have another chance."

"And what did you say to that?"

"I haven't said anything yet. I don't know what to say. I don't want to get back with him. He's nice, but –"

"That's it?"

"Yeah," Ginny said heavily. "I don't – I don't even think I want to be in a relationship right now. Dean's getting on my nerves, and there's no one else that I like."

Tonks nodded. "Sometimes it's best to be single."

"Are you?" Ginny wanted to know.

"What?" Tonks seemed to be playing the innocent.

"Single? No men in your life?"

"Oh, there's plenty of men," Tonks laughed. "Just none that are particularly special, right now."

"What about Lupin?"

"What about him?"

"He's pretty special," Ginny said. Not for her, obviously. But he and Tonks did seem to be close . . .

"Oh, he is. But he's still – I couldn't, Ginny. He's still very upset about Sirius . . . it'll take him a long time to get over that."

Ginny nodded. Suddenly it seemed trivial to be talking about romance. She went upstairs instead.

Hermione was curled up on the bed, with Crookshanks at her feet, reading, but put the book down once Ginny walked in.

"Finished unpacking already?" Ginny asked.

"More or less," Hermione said. "I've unpacked everything I'll need while I'm here, anyway. The rest is for school."

"What are you reading?" Ginny had got into the habit of asking Hermione this question, mostly because Hermione smiled slightly every time someone took an interest in whatever book she had in front of her.

"Just a biography, nothing exciting," Hermione said.

Ginny sat at the end of the bed and reached out to pet Crookshanks, who purred contentedly. "Michael's thinking about breaking up with Cho," she said. "He wants us to get back together."

Hermione exhaled sharply. "That boy is just – too much. You don't want to get back with him, do you?"

"No." She expected Hermione to look pleased with her, proud of her for being independent and strong and not desperate for the affections of some boy, but instead she just looked distracted. "Hermione, are you all right?"

"What? Yes, I'm fine, just – tired."

Ginny looked at her closely. She did look tired. Maybe that really was all that it was. Still, she found herself stroking the fur on Crookshanks's back gently and tenderly, as though Hermione would somehow receive the physical comfort that her cat was being given.

"Maybe you should get some rest, have an early night," Ginny suggested, and then experienced a moment of panic as she realised that she was, in fact, turning into her mother. Except her mother would probably have been more forceful about it.

"Yes, Mum," Hermione teased.

"Shut up. I was just thinking how Mum-like that sounded. I've been cooped up in here for weeks, it's getting to me."

Hermione was smiling now, so everything had to be all right.

Hermione was murmuring in her sleep. What exactly she was murmuring, Ginny couldn't tell, and she wasn't sure she particularly wanted to know. Exhaustion was winning out over curiosity at this hour of the night. She'd been tossing and turning for what felt like most of the night at this stage now – it felt as though it should be light outside already, even though the night was nowhere near finished.

She burrowed beneath her duvet, but she could still hear the sounds. It wasn't quite as bad as snoring, she supposed, but it was still irritating when someone was trying to sleep. Since when did Hermione talk in her sleep, anyway?

Of course, they usually went to sleep at around the same time. Hermione had fallen asleep quickly, and Ginny had been just about to drift off when the murmurs began.

She squeezed her eyes shut, and was about to go over and poke Hermione in an attempt to get her to shut up when she heard noises from downstairs.

It wasn't the first time there had been some kind of commotion in the middle of the night, even if it was only a disagreement between Order members getting out of hand. But it was the first time this summer that it had happened. And that was definitely a door opening, which meant that someone had arrived.

She was torn between going downstairs to try and find out what was going on, knowing that this was a chance to uncover some of the secrets that were being kept, and ignoring it. The desire for sleep won out again, and she lay in bed, hearing movements and murmurings and eventually, despite the distractions, fell asleep.

She woke up from a rather wonderful dream in which she'd been pronounced Quidditch captain and OWLs had been abandoned as a method of testing Hogwarts students. A glance at the clock indicated that she'd slept late, no doubt owing to the tossing and turning of the previous night. Still, it was the summer holidays and she was entitled to a few late mornings, even if her mother believed in early nights and early mornings.

Hermione was already up and about, it seemed. Ginny pulled her dressing-gown around her and made her way downstairs. People were still sitting around the table. She nodded, bleary-eyed, to everyone, muttering a "Morning".

And there, sitting next to Ron, was Harry. It took Ginny a moment or two to realise that this was a new development.

"Hi, Harry," she said. "When did you get here?"

"Just now," he said.

She nodded in response, and got to work on her breakfast.

"So, how've you been?" she asked after a while, realising that the table was unusually quiet.

"How do you think I've been?" he responded. It wasn't angry, or accusing, just – sad, and hollow.

"Harry, she only meant – " Hermione began, but he interrupted her.

"I know what she meant."

The silence descended upon the table again, apart from the sound of Ginny eating, which made her slightly self-conscious. As soon as she'd finished, she retreated to her room again. As much as she'd wanted to have company this summer, the solitude of the bedroom seemed like a much more appealing alternative at that moment. She could do without having to watch every word that came out of her mouth just because Harry was still in bits over Sirius, if that was even what was going on. Maybe there was something else. She was sick of secrets being kept, she decided. If people were just honest with one another – about important things, she quickly added, she wasn't quite willing to condemn tactfulness yet – things would be a lot easier.

She'd talk to Harry later, maybe, she decided. Explain that she hadn't meant to offend him – only he hadn't seemed offended, just – tired, and old. It reminded her a little of the way her father sounded whenever the subject of Percy came up – or was skirted around. As though a war had already been fought, and they'd lost but were too tired of fighting to even care.

Her mother cornered her before she had the chance to talk to Harry, needing her help trying for the umpteenth time to remove the screeching portrait of Mrs Black. Ginny strongly suspected she was being kept out of the way while Hermione and Ron and Harry caught up, but she didn't complain. Maybe it was better this way. She wasn't sure how to act around Harry. Acting normal clearly wasn't going to work, and tiptoeing around him for the rest of the summer was going to get tiresome.

She knew it was heartless, but she didn't particularly care at that moment in time. Grimmauld Place wasn't where she wanted to be spending her summer holidays, and having to watch everything she said whenever Harry around wasn't going to help. Maybe she could stay with Bill, she thought for a moment, and then realised that he wouldn't want her around. Not when he had Fleur staying over there too. Who cared about having a little sister around when you had a part-Veela who hung on your every word?

She was surprised to find Hermione and Ron were in her bedroom when she returned, the attempt at taking down the portrait having proved to be unsuccessful once more.

"Where's Harry?"

"He wants to be alone," Hermione said. She looked upset.

"So what's he doing here, then?" Ginny asked. "Why didn't he just stay with the Dursleys, if he wants to be left alone?" She realised she sounded angry, but on reflection she realised that she was. He'd arrived this morning and he'd disrupted everything already.

Ron shrugged. "Dunno. Must be really bad there. They're rotten to him, Ginny, they really are."

"So he comes here and decides to sulk, then?" she retorted.

"Ginny, it's not like that," Hermione said. "He just – with Sirius and everything, he needs time to himself, he needs to get over it, we can't expect to understand what he's going through –" She sounded as though she were on the verge of tears.

"Yes, poor little Harry, no one can ever understand what he's going through," she snapped. Hermione making excuses for him was making her angrier. For someone who dismissed girls being blind when it came to love, she had no problem being blind when it came to Harry, Ginny noticed. There she was, practically crying, and she was still defending him.

Harry wasn't the only one who had ever suffered, she couldn't help but think. Memories of Tom flooded back, as well as the fear that had hung over the entire family last Christmas when her father had been injured. All right, so maybe it wasn't quite the same. Her father had recovered. But didn't he – didn't he ever see that he wasn't the only one in the world with problems?

They stared at each other for a while, Ginny on one side and Hermione and Ron on the other, before Hermione decided to play peace-maker. "I know it feels like that sometimes . . . look, we just need to give him some time right now, all right?"

Her voice was gentle. Ginny wasn't sure whether she was being condescended to or whether Hermione really did understand. She wanted to say something, something to let them know that she did care, that she understood that Harry was hurting, it was just that she hated the way he had to consume their entire lives, but the words wouldn't come.

So instead she just nodded, and then walked out, and found a corner in which to curl up in. The tears came, but she wasn't sure just what she was crying about. When she went downstairs for dinner, she felt as though the evidence was still on her face, even though she'd tried to make herself look presentable, but no one commented.

She wondered if that meant that they were being tactful, or whether they just hadn't paid enough attention to her to notice.