Chapter Nine
"Point of No Return"
Steam rose from the aluminum cylinder as Ginny expertly tilted the metal 'wand' to turn the milk into foam. A whistling hiss pierced her ears as the needle on the thermometer neared its mark. For a brief minute, her world was nothing but milk, steam, and whistling.
Then the needle hit the tiny red bar, and she promptly pushed the tiny black square on the espresso machine. What steam her skin did not absorb misted and disappeared around her. Instinctively, she pushed the two shot button, all the while wiping down the wand and grabbing a long-handled spoon, cardboard cup holder, and a plastic lid. The moment the two shots were done pouring, Ginny filled the cup with foamy milk. Her timing, brought on by repetition and meticulous attention to detail, meant she did not need the spoon to control the density of the foam, but she liked to have it just in case.
Leaving just half an inch between the foamy liquid and the lip of the cup, Ginny then neatly swirled whip cream on top, and then popped the lid on.
"Grande latte!" she called, placing the hot cup of caffeine and calorie in the cardboard holder and setting it dead center on the pick-up counter.
A slight woman in a business suit hurried up carrying a briefcase. "Is it skim?" she said stiffly.
"Yes, ma'am."
"With whip cream?"
Ginny, well-practiced at keeping a straight face, said just as politely, "Yes, ma'am."
The woman gave a slight nod and took off with her drink. Ginny didn't bother to watch her go; she had another order, and anyway, women ordering skim lattes with whip cream had ceased to fascinate her.
As Ginny prepared her next order (two viente mochas, one hazelnut steamer, and one caramel machiatto), she couldn't help but glance apprehensively at Maggie, who was busy with extricating two slices of cheesecake from the bakery window. For two days now she'd been agonizing over her impulsive decision at The Burrow, but it had not occurred to her until she'd returned to the apartment and received a call from Maggie begging her to come in today, the twenty-seventh, because Dan was sick, that she would have to quit at The Sipper.
This meant she would be quitting her second job in two months.
Her stomach tightened unpleasantly as she thought about Flourish and Blotts. Quitting the bookstore and leaving Mr. Whitworth's tutelage had been a way to escape the pressing suffocation she'd felt in the wizarding world these past months. After breaking her friendship with Dean (he'd obeyed her order not to talk to her all too well), she'd become almost paranoid amongst the magical world.
At Flourish and Blotts she was surrounded by ridiculous, unauthorized publications about Harry, the constant luncheon invitations from Fred and George (and sometimes Ron), patrons recognizing her from school or a war article, and Mr. Whitworth's keen mind. The pressure only seemed to worsen during that first week in November, when she felt the coldest and her nightmares were too vivid. Dealing with Mr. Whitworth's inquiries about writing and how her life was 'carrying on' had become far too difficult, especially when she imagined every ring of the door chimes to be Dean Thomas, her brothers, or her mother.
And, so, Ginny quit.
Maggie had been overjoyed to have her on full-time. One of her full-timers had quit for family reasons. During that terrible first week in November, Ginny had agonized over what she'd done to Dean, and had been certain her friendly, working relationship with Maggie would be ruined . . . but she had been wrong.
Maggie had noticed Dean's lack of visits whenever Ginny was working, and once she'd inquired casually, but even then, Ginny had been surprised by the woman's friendly concern. She answered as honestly and vaguely as she could. "I have a few things I need to work out and I asked Dean to give me some space. He's been very good about it." As an after thought, she added, "Could you tell him thank you for me?"
She had worried it'd come across catty, but Maggie did not seem upset. Only every now and then, from the corner of her eye, did Ginny catch the woman raising her eyebrows questioningly.
So when she started to buckle under the pressure of the wizarding world, The Sipper seemed like a perfect place to immerse herself in. The repetition of making coffee drinks, cleaning, and looking after the café's eclectic clientele became a source of comfort and certainty for Ginny.
Even though she'd known she would grow weary of working here, she had not anticipated leaving so soon.
Or like this.
"Woo!" Maggie exclaimed, startling Ginny out of her thoughts. "I do believe that was our rush." She wiped an arm across her sweaty forehead and smiled cheerily at Ginny. "How was Christmas at your mother's?"
"Oh, fine," said Ginny. She took the counter rag and quickly wiped up the rings caused by the pitchers and cups, placed the cold ingredients back in the fridge underneath the counter, and then rinsed out the shot glasses. "Just the usual stuff, you know," she added, as Maggie seemed to be waiting for more explanation. "Lots of food and family."
"I'm sorry about calling you in on your day off," said Maggie. She took out some chapstick and smeared it on her chapped lips, and then tucked some sweaty, graying curls back into her hairnet. "I know you probably wanted more time with your family."
"Oh no! I'm happy to work for you!"
"Are you sure?" Maggie peered closely at her with what Ginny knew to be the "Mother Look." "You just seem awfully tired lately."
"I'm fine. Honestly." She didn't bother to force a smile; Maggie could spot a lie faster than Mad Eye Moody.
"Uh-huh."
Ginny looked down at the rag still in her hand. Now was her moment to tell Maggie she had to quit. She bit her lip, feeling guilty and pathetic. How could she say that she had spontaneously decided to embark on a journey to her inevitable doom with someone she'd betrayed two years ago?
"Spit it out, girl," said Maggie firmly, snapping her fingers.
Feeling only two inches tall, Ginny forced herself to look at her boss. "I have to quit," she said quietly. She took a deep breath, and then it all came out in a rush. "I'm really sorry, Maggie! I had no idea until I went home, and then it just sort of, well, I have to. I'm going to Australia by the end of the week. I'm really sorry, I hate to leave you like this, you're absolutely wonderful, but—"
Bells chimed and Ginny stopped abruptly, her eyes flitting toward the door. Her stomach disappeared, rudely taking her lungs with it.
Dean hesitated between the door and the counter, looking rather surprised and uncertain. Ginny quickly looked down, not wanting to meet his eye and see whether or not he hated her.
"Dean," said Maggie in her usual boisterous voice, "come give your auntie a kiss."
"Hello, Aunt Maggie."
Ginny kept her eyes riveted on the espresso machine.
"Hello, Ginny."
Damn. It.
Clenching the rag tightly in her fist, Ginny forced herself to turn to Dean and nod amicably. "Dean." Feeling that this was really rude, she added rather tightly, "Good Christmas?"
"Yes." Dean wasn't smiling, but he didn't look angry either. He seemed to be trying to meet her eye, but she didn't let him and looked down again. "How was yours? I stopped in at your brothers' store, and Fred said Harry's back for a bit."
Ginny shrugged and neatly folded the rag, still refusing to look up at him. "He leaves after the New Year."
"Ah. Doesn't want The Daily Prophet to catch wind, I s'pose."
"No."
A heavy silence settled between them. Only Sophia coming in at that moment for her shift broke it.
"Happy Christmas, everyone!" she called cheerily. "Hi, Dean! Hi, Ginny!"
"Finally, someone in a good mood," Maggie muttered.
Ginny looked at her sharply, then down at her shoes, her cheeks burning.
"Well, I suppose I better get your pay while it's not busy," Maggie went on. She went into the backroom where Sophia had just disappeared to clock in and store her coat, leaving Ginny alone to deal with Dean.
"What's she talking about? It's not payday," said Dean.
Sucking in a deep breath, Ginny wondered if the day could get any worse. Still not looking at Dean, she mumbled, "Today's my last day."
"You're quitting? Why?" Dean exclaimed in dismay.
"Because I can't very well work here from Australia, can I?" she snapped. I just want to get out of here!
"Australia?" Dean looked perplexed. "What're you going to Australia for?"
I wish I knew. "I need a holiday."
"When are you leaving?"
"After the New Year."
Something seemed to connect, because Dean's furrowed brow cleared and he shot her a narrowed look. "You said Harry was leaving after the New Year. Is he also going to Australia?"
Too tired to lie, Ginny just stared at the counter top and nodded weakly. She knew where this was going, but what could she do to stop it?
"So," said Dean. "You're going to Australia. With Harry." He paused and Ginny winced at his words. "That explains quite a bit."
Ginny looked up. "It doesn't explain anything," she said shortly. The corners of her eyes burned and her voice trembled. "I wish it did, but it doesn't, okay? There's nothing between Harry and me."
The truth of it hurt.
"Sure, whatever." Dean clearly didn't believe her. He couldn't say so, however, because Maggie and Sophia reappeared, the older woman carrying an envelope with Ginny's pay. She gave no sign that she noticed the tension between her nephew and former employee, but Sophia's eyes widened a little.
"Well, here you go then, Ginny," Maggie said, handing over the envelope. She smiled, but Ginny thought it didn't quite reach the woman's dark eyes. "You were a good worker. Good luck."
Feeling even worse than she had just a moment ago, Ginny thanked Maggie, said her goodbye to a confused and saddened Sophia, and then left her apron in the backroom. When she reappeared, Dean had gone, and a small line had formed so that Maggie and Sophia were distracted.
Just like the criminal she felt, Ginny slipped out of The Sipper.
"I think I have a penchant for stupidity," Ginny groaned, flopping down on Joe's couch with a flourish.
"I can't comment unless you're more specific," said Joe dryly. He shut the door and came over to the couch, his hands in his pockets as he gazed down at her sprawled form.
Ginny closed her eyes and shuddered. She understood perfectly why people hated the holiday season. "I've just done a lot of stupid things in my life," she mumbled, not wanting to open her eyes and see Joe's inquiring face. But she needed a release, someone to tell her for certain whether or not she was making a terrible mistake. She had to tell Alyson today or completely scratch everything; it wouldn't be fair to leave her friend hanging, but then everything would be final.
"Budge up," Joe said, patting her booted calves.
Ginny opened her eyes and curled her legs up obediently, then pushed herself up into a sitting position. Joe was watching her with his quiet, imploring eyes, one arm stretched over the couch back.
"I quit my job today," she said, staring down at her nibbled nails.
"Why? Do you have another?"
"No."
"So . . ."
Ginny moaned and covered her face. "I'm really messed up, Joe."
Joe reached out and pulled her hands away from her face. "A little depressed maybe, but you're not mental." He grinned crookedly and added, "Much." Then he frowned seriously. "I've always wondered why."
She shook her head. "It'd take too much to explain it all."
"Okay." He paused, then said, "So why did you quit The Sipper?"
"Because I'm leaving after the New Year." Ginny bit her lip, thinking back to the horrible scene just two hours ago. Why did Dean have to walk through the door at that moment? She wouldn't have felt so terrible or guilty.
"You're leaving?"
"Yes," Ginny said, trying hard to sound calm about it. "I'm going to Australia."
Joe had been leaning close, but suddenly sat up straight. "Australia? That's the other side of the world!"
"I know." Ginny massaged her temples, her gut twisting at his observation. So wonderfully far away, yet so painfully close to Harry . . .
"Well, I've never been there myself, but it sounds like an adventure," he said, nudging her arm. "When did you decide this? Alyson hasn't said anything. Are you going together or alone?"
"No, she's not coming. I—" Ginny looked guiltily into her lap. "I haven't exactly told her yet. But I will! Today."
She peeked at Joe from under her lashes, wondering if he would be angry with her for not telling his cousin. He frowned his tilted little frown, studying her thoughtfully. How could she tell him she'd only thought this up Christmas Eve from under that damn mistletoe? The past two days she had been scurrying through her assets and arguing with her sudden irrationality. It was the 27th of December, the first day back from the Christmas holiday, and she was ragged.
"Please say something," she whispered, not trusting his silence, even if he didn't look angry.
"Sorry." He flashed an encouraging smile and then opened his arms. "Come here, you look ready to fall apart."
Ginny readily accepted her friend's offer, surprised to find herself shaking. Gratefully, she rested her head against his shoulder, feeling temporarily stable in his comforting squeeze before he relaxed. For a moment she pondered how wonderful it was to have a male Muggle friend; Joe didn't know her as everyone else did, and as much as she hated to admit it, she craved a man's touch, even if it was only in friendship.
"I am falling apart," she confessed. Harry and Dean could testify to that. "That's why I'm going to Australia."
"To get away? Do a little soul-searching?"
Ginny frowned. "I guess you could call it that. But that's not quite it." She knew exactly where her soul had gone, that was the whole problem.
"Then what is it? Why are you traipsing off to Australia, halfway around the world, all on your own?"
"I won't be alone." She winced. Harry would be there. It left her cold to think about it. But wasn't she always cold?
"Oh? Who are you going with? Make up with that Dean fellow, did you?"
"Funny you should mention him," she muttered. "No, I'm not going with him. He probably hates me for sure now. He witnessed my resignation today."
"Ouch." Joe poked her in the rib, frowning when she didn't even twitch. "You didn't tell me why you're going."
Ginny inhaled deeply, wishing not for the first time that her life was very different. "I don't even know for sure why. I just have to get away." She stared unseeingly at an opened CD case, lulled by the soft melody of a song she had played in the flat. "I'm not getting away from it, I know that. I'm diving into it. Maybe . . . I don't know, maybe I hope he'll have the answer or I'll find it if I'm with him?"
She hadn't known she'd spoken until Joe whispered, "Who? The answer to what?"
But Ginny shook her head and closed her eyes. She was drowning. Her throat was closing and her eyes were filling. After all of this time, all of her hardening, did she still hope to be with Harry, to be purified or redeemed?
Or, Ginny thought as she gulped for control, maybe she wanted Harry Potter to finish what Tom Riddle had begun.
Break me, shatter me into tiny little insignificant pieces that can never be found or whole again.
"Sorry for freaking out on you," Ginny mumbled as she searched her satchel for her keys and wand. Absently, she rubbed under her left eye, not convinced all her mascara had been wiped away.
"Again—don't worry about it," said Joe, leaning against the corridor wall and peering up the stairwell to the next floor.
Ginny let out an inaudible sigh as she watched Joe from the corner of her eye. She'd invited him over to dinner so she wouldn't be alone in breaking the news to Alyson. Perhaps her New Year's resolution should be not to burst into hysterics in front of men. Dean, Harry, and now Joe. He seemed to take it better than the other two, and Ginny wondered if Muggle men were used to women losing their heads. At any rate, he had handled everything admirably, and for just a brief moment while drying her tears, she'd wondered . . .
"What?" Joe was looking at her in amusement, eyebrows raised, his mouth crooked.
"Oh, nothing," she said quickly, hoping she wouldn't blush.
"You were staring," he accused.
"I was thinking."
"About what?"
Ginny flicked her wand at the door, poised her key over the hole but then turned back to him. She tilted her head thoughtfully, hoping to hide the slight embarrassment that had clung to her since she'd lost control. Again.
"Well, back at the apartment, I just thought . . ." she paused, wondering if he would get the wrong idea. She shook her head. "No, nevermind."
"Come on, tell me. You ruined my favorite jumper, fair is fair."
Ginny cringed. "Sorry. I really didn't mean to lose it—"
Joe stepped forward and cupped his hands around her face. "Stop that. Now!" he ordered in his sternest voice.
"Yessir," she tried to say, but her cheeks were squishing her lips together.
"Good girl." He dropped a peck on her forehead before releasing her. Then he grinned goofily and patted his pockets. "I'm out of biscuits."
"Ow, you prat," Ginny scowled, rubbing her cheeks and giving him a dirty look. "Just for that I won't turn you into a newt."
Giggling at Joe's puppy dog eyes begging for magic, she turned the key and opened the door. Just within the threshold, she halted and gasped at what she saw.
"Harry!"
The clock on the wall had been edging steadily toward six in time with Alyson's assurances Ginny would be home "anytime now, I swear!" She'd said the same at five, when Harry had returned from his earlier visit. The younger Gryffindor had suggested at two he just go to The Sipper, but Harry had a distinct feeling Ginny wouldn't have appreciated it.
But as the minute hand neared the twelve on the kitchen clock and Alyson's assurances became half-hearted, Harry wished he'd taken her advice. An hour with the girl was a bit awkward, even if she was friendly enough. He'd simply never gotten to know many of Ginny's friends, despite the fact Alyson had been a Chaser, and the fact that he was here on secretive business didn't help.
"She must be staying late or at the park or something," Alyson said lamely, flicking her wand at the pasta boiling on the stove. "She likes to take walks and stuff. Good for deep contemplation, you know."
"Hmm." Harry suppressed the urge to drum his fingers on the table. Quidditch had been chewed over. He didn't much want to talk about the war, nor did Alyson seem to want to be the first to mention it. After all, The Boy Who Hides From The Daily Prophet was prone to odd mood swings and radical displays of behavior, or so rumor claimed.
"What sort of sauce do you want, Harry?" Alyson asked suddenly. She jumped up and hurried to the stove, her long, shiny dark hair swinging like a cloak behind her. He remembered how tightly braided and wrapped her hair had been for Quidditch matches. However gorgeous and girly Alyson Baker had seemed in the corridors, she had been a very practical athlete.
"I don't think I'll be staying," Harry sighed.
He moved to stand, but at that moment he heard the click of a key turning, and the door opened to reveal Ginny entering, followed quickly by a brown-haired young man.
"Harry!" she gasped, her eyes widening. A second passed where she closed her eyes and then opened them, as if to collect herself. "What are you doing here?"
Harry felt a pang of hurt and confusion at her accusatory, strained voice. She stood stiffly just inside the threshold, looking pinched. "I—" He glanced at Alyson, wondering how much he could say in front of her without giving Ginny's secret away, and then locked eyes with Ginny again.
Ginny pressed her lips together and slumped her shoulders, stepping further into the room. "Well, I was going to say it tonight, anyway."
As she stepped into the brighter light of the kitchen, Harry realized that her eyes were pink and puffy, as if she'd lost sleep or recently cried. She didn't give him a second look as she leaned over the pasta before opening a cupboard and taking down four plates.
"I smell a secret," Alyson said lightly as she poured Alfredo sauce onto the pasta. "And you say you were bringing my cousin here to pester me. Do you really have to rub in our relation like that? You know I can't stand boring, computer-nerd Muggles."
"I'm your favorite cousin and you know it," the Muggle teased, leaning against the counter.
Alyson pointed her wand warningly, but her grin was wide. Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair, wishing he could get this over and done with. Knowing that this guy was Alyson's cousin made him feel slightly better, but he felt distinctly unwanted. Ginny wasn't looking at him, Alyson's eyes were bouncing all over the place, and her cousin was eyeing him curiously.
"So, are you in the same sort of, er, group as Alyson and Ginny?" he asked.
"Sorry?"
"He's asking if you're a wizard, Harry," Alyson clarified with a grin.
"Oh," said Harry. "Yeah. I am."
"Harry, this is Joe Parson, my cousin. Joe, this is Harry Potter—the best spanking wizard this side of the pond."
Harry felt his face heat and heard Ginny make a muffled sound as she set potholders at the center of the table for the pot of pasta. He glanced at her, but her eyes darted away before he could read them.
"Why don't we all eat, then?" Ginny said a little too brightly.
The table was small and wobbly with only enough room for a person on each side. Ginny reminded him distinctly of Mrs. Weasley as she dished the pasta onto every plate, ever the gracious host. Sitting so close to Ginny, Harry could see the telltale shadow of wiped away tears, and he was shocked by how drawn and pale she looked. How could she look even sadder and sicker than on Christmas, a mere two days ago?
He tried very hard not to stare and to instead concentrate on his food. He deliberated over what to do. Obviously she wasn't going to start the conversation. Should he wait until after supper and talk privately? Why wouldn't she look at him?
A sigh escaped him, causing everyone to look up.
"Sorry," he said quickly.
"I guess I might as well get this over with," Ginny said abruptly. She let her fork drop, put her head in her hands for a moment, and then looked up. Red finger marks crossed her pale face. Briefly she cast Harry a look, but then she was addressing the pot in the center of the table.
"Allie," she said, her voice tight, "I quit The Sipper today because I'm going off to Australia after the New Year."
Alyson's mouth dropped open, but she didn't look affronted. "What? How's that? I want to go!"
Ginny bit her lip and shook her head. "I'm sorry. I'm fairly sure you can't go with me." She paused and tucked some coppery hair behind her ear. Her cheeks were flushing. "I'm going with . . . with Harry."
Two pairs of eyes flew to him, and Harry wished he could disappear. Alyson's held joyful suspicion, but Joe was frowning thoughtfully. Harry couldn't think of anything to say, so he shrugged his shoulders.
"When did this happen?" Alyson demanded, still grinning.
"Christmas Eve," Ginny mumbled, pushing pasta around with her fork. "I would have told you sooner, Allie, I was just . . ." She trailed off and shrugged helplessly.
"So that's why you're here, eh?" said Alyson, addressing Harry. "Whisking my best friend off to the Land of Oz. Are you eloping?"
"Alyson!" Ginny gasped, pure white. "Don't be stupid," she hissed.
"I was only asking." Alyson's hands were up in the air, but there was nothing innocent about her smirk.
Harry really wished he could disappear. Coming had been a bad idea, but he had to talk to Ginny so she could leave the country. Maybe after this she'd decide to go alone . . .
"Anyway," Ginny said, clearing her throat meaningfully. "What are you doing here, Harry?"
Harry nearly let out his breath in relief. Finally. She was speaking to him and he could get to the point and escape Alyson and Joe's inquiring looks.
"You're supposed to re-sign for your passport," he said, digging into his cloak for the form.
"But I've already gone to Egypt."
"That was before the war. The Ministry's making everyone fill out forms for re-licensing. Your dad was able to get a hold of yours—"
"You didn't tell him, did you?" she squeaked, her eyes suddenly lighting up in anger.
"No," Harry said quickly. "He was actually trying to get a hold of everyone to sign, since you, Ron, and Hermione haven't traveled anywhere outside of Britain after the war. I just told him I'd get it to you." Ginny was still frowning at him, but she took the forms nonetheless. "I can take them back tomorrow, if you like. That way you can get your new one owled back by the twenty-ninth."
She nodded. "Was that all?"
Harry sat up a little straighter and ran a hand through his hair nervously. Would she be offended for him asking in front of her friend and . . . whatever Joe was?
"Well, I just needed to go over some stuff on traveling. Like Apparition and Portkey and such."
Ginny put the forms down, her brow creased. "Oh. Right." She frowned. "I've never done a long-distance Apparition except for during the test. That was nearly a year ago."
Harry quickly explained the travel options, slightly annoyed by Joe's rapt attention. Perhaps it was natural for a Muggle to be so intrigued, but Harry was too wary of Joe's part in Ginny's life. And why had Ginny been crying before she came home with this man?
"Well," Ginny said when he finished, "thanks for stopping by and everything." She picked at her plate. "How long have you been waiting?"
"Not long," Harry lied, shooting a look at Alyson to keep her quiet.
"Hmm."
"I should probably be going," he said. He knew his presence was as uncomfortable for them as it was for him. Ginny would barely look at him. "Thanks for supper, Alyson."
"No problem. You should come by more often. All Gryffindors are welcome."
"Right." Harry wondered how many Gryffindors did stop by. Hoping he didn't look like he was scampering away, he stood up from the table. To his surprise, Ginny did as well.
"Better see you to the door," she explained, not quite meeting his eyes. "Mum would have my head for lack of etiquette."
"I can see myself—" he protested, but Ginny simply shook her head and started off across the flat. Perhaps she wanted to say something to him in private? Harry followed, his unfed stomach tightening.
At the door, she said nothing, but merely opened it, waiting for him to go. Feeling stupid waiting for something that wasn't going to happen, Harry started to go through, but paused in the threshold as something occurred to him.
"Ginny," he said quietly, drawing her eyes up. "You don't have to come. I mean, if you changed your mind . . ."
Uncertainty marred her pale, freckled face. Harry held his breath as she looked down at the carpet, long, coppery locks falling in front of her face. She was going to say no and close the door on him . . . he'd lose his chance to make amends for whatever had gone wrong between them or find out why she'd changed . . .
"No," she said, lifting her face. Her expression was unreadable. "I'm going."
Again, he tried to control his exhale. "Okay."
"Goodnight, Harry." She was closing the door, again not quite looking at him.
"'Night," he said, and then the door shut.
Ginny leaned against the door as it clicked shut. She was not going to start shaking again. Absolutely, positively not. Joe would be on her in a second, and she couldn't count on Alyson playing ignorant, judging by her meaningful looks at the table. Simply too much emotion was packed into this one day, and all she wanted to do was go to bed and end it.
"Should've had him stay for dessert," Alyson called.
Ginny cringed. She needed to cringe for a lot of things. Quitting The Sipper, seeing Dean's suspicious look, freaking out on Joe, and Harry's unannounced visit. Most of all she cringed for her inability to act normally around him. I'll have that figured out by the time we're in Australia, she reasoned bleakly. If not, then adios, and she'd figure something else out. But if she failed at this, what could she do?
"Hey."
Ginny winced at Joe's voice behind her. She hadn't heard him come up, or the preceding "I'll check up on psycho-girl over there." (Which Joe probably hadn't said at all, but she could well imagine.)
"Are you all right?"
"I'd think you'd figured that out by now," Ginny muttered, turning slowly around to address her friend.
Joe didn't laugh. He frowned and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Can I talk to you in private?"
It was her turn to frown. "I guess . . ." Joe seemed to like the serious talks today.
Instead of heading for her bedroom, which he'd never been in, Joe moved around her to open the door. He really does mean private, Ginny worried, reluctantly following him into the corridor of apartment doors. She hoped everyone had thick walls.
Joe was looking down the hall. She couldn't imagine what he had to say or why he was acting so very un-Joe-like. Flattening her back to the slightly grungy wall, she waited and tried not to chew on her bottom lip or crack her knuckles.
"Can I ask you something?" Joe finally said, turning to her.
"Depends on the question." Was he going to ask about Harry?
"Do you know what you're doing?"
Ginny frowned. "What do you mean?"
Joe paused and took a noticeable huff of air. "Sorry, I don't mean to sound rude or accusatory, but I can't help but . . ." He trailed off and shook his head. Then he seemed to change his mind and took a step closer, his face completely serious. "Ginny, I haven't known you very long, I know, so I probably don't have a right to say anything, but I have to because I think you're just setting yourself up for more hurt."
"I know that—"
"So why, then?" he demanded, his voice rising slightly. "Why are you pushing everyone away? You had a good thing going here, Ginny. You had a job at that bookstore; you seemed to like it when you did speak of it. You're living with Alyson who is a good friend—I should know—and then you had friends, a boyfriend, that broomstick team, your family, and another job at The Sipper. Why are you breaking off from all of it?"
"I told you I'm messed up!" Why couldn't he just leave it at that? Why were both he and Alyson suddenly gaining up on her like she was a stupid child that needed tutoring?
"I think that's just an excuse," Joe said quietly, crossing his arms over his chest. "And I also think you don't want to go with off with this Harry Potter bloke."
Ginny squeezed her hands into fists. She wanted to scream. Why couldn't he just leave her alone? Where was unassuming, easy-going Joe? Why was he questioning her after she'd flipped out on his couch?
"Ginny." He sounded apologetic, gentle. She felt her urge to scream weaken, but it still tickled her throat, ready if she needed it. "Look, I don't want to upset you—"
She snorted derisively. "Good job on that."
Joe cracked a sheepish smile before looking stern and concerned again. "I'm serious, Gin. You're pushing people away, and you really shouldn't. You don't have to go off to Australia to be happy."
"It's not Australia," Ginny sighed, staring off toward the stairwell.
"Then this . . . Harry Potter?"
If only, she thought, closing her eyes. In the momentary darkness, she saw Harry's body suspended beside a bubbling cauldron, blood flowing down his arm into the unearthly potion as Voldemort cackled triumphantly, a dagger in his hand. She opened her eyes and blinked.
"No, I doubt I could be happy with Harry," she said sadly. I doubt he could be happy with me.
"So why?"
"Why am I like this? Why am I leaving everything and everyone? Why I can't be happy with Harry?" Ginny could feel her body starting to tremble, her heart starting to race. How could she tell Joe, a Muggle, someone totally unaware of the horrors they had all faced, about Voldemort, Harry, and the war? About Macnair falling to the floor after she'd commanded a snake to kill him? That she'd surrendered to evil?
"I couldn't possibly begin to tell you," she said, shaking her head. "You wouldn't want to know. You'd despise me."
"What? You killed someone?"
"That's not funny."
The joke died on Joe's face and his eyes widened. In her mind, she heard her own hysterical screams as Nagini recoiled and the other Death Eaters found their bulky executioner dead on the floor. The scream that was tickling her throat rose, but she swallowed it down and pushed off from the wall.
"I'm tired. You better go home," she said quietly.
Joe nodded slowly, his eyes still calculating and never leaving her. "I suppose so," he said just as quietly. "But, Ginny? Please think about what I said. Your friends are here, we'll help you if you need it."
"I know."
She didn't meet his eye. He embraced her, but she couldn't quite lift her arms to return it. Frowning, he kissed her forehead, and then said, "Tell my cousin bye for me. Stop by before you leave, okay?" And then Ginny was back in the apartment and locking her bedroom door to Alyson's inquiries.