Chapter Fourteen
"On the Rocks"
Harry dragged himself out of bed around noon; Hedwig remained napping under her wing. Despite only less than four hours of sleep, he felt invigorated after resting in his own bed again. Remembering that he was now living with two women, Harry pulled a t-shirt on before shuffling out of his room.
The hiss of the shower coming from the bathroom told him Renee was back from her morning swim. He smiled slightly at the comfort and welcome coming from his roommate's morning routine.
With the door to Ginny's room slightly open, Harry could hear the gentle hum of the fan running and could see that it was still dark within. Cautiously, he crept over to the door and peered through. She was sound asleep on her stomach, her face turned to the side, an arm dangling off the bed.
He watched her for a moment, thinking how weird it was to have her visiting his place rather than the other way around with him at The Burrow.
Although he had a feeling he could stand for a long time watching and thinking, Harry's stomach rumbled incessantly. Not one to disobey nature's first call, he quietly went into the kitchen and started rummaging through the cupboards and fridge for something decent. By the time he had managed to throw together a cold pasta salad and find everything for a satisfactory sandwich, Renee emerged from her shower.
"Ooooh," she exclaimed as she wound her long, wet hair into a knot at the nape of her neck. "You're making lunch!"
"I'm hungry."
"What're you making?"
Harry jutted her with his elbow as she lent nosily over his lunch. "A sandwich. For me," he added pointedly as Renee's large, dark eyes alighted on his creation. "You can make your own cut lunch."
Renee pretended to pout, but then she spotted the bowl of pasta salad and snatched it up. He made for her wrist, but she slapped his hand away and grinned cheekily. Hopping onto the counter, her heels banging against the cupboard doors, she said sweetly, "I practically starved without your wholesome cooking."
Rolling his eyes, Harry placed the last piece of lettuce on his roast beef and turkey sandwich, and said, "I doubt that. I saw those pizza boxes by the rubbish bin."
"Well—" She reached for a spoon leftover from breakfast and shoveled up some pasta. "—I hear pizza isn't healthy. So you put me at risk by abandoning me."
"That's gross! Don't eat out of the bowl." Harry grabbed the spoon and bowl and set them on the far side of the counter out of her reach. She started to pout again, but he promptly ignored her and took a bite out of his sandwich. "Make your own sanger," he said through a mouthful.
"And you say I'm gross," said Renee, smirking.
Harry swallowed. "Maybe if you learned to cook yourself, you wouldn't have to depend on whatever sorry soul you bring in to cook for you."
"I cook. I just don't cook as well as you do."
"Ugh," Harry grimaced, remembering his first meal there. "Good point." He'd volunteered to cook from then on. After all, he'd gotten plenty of practice with the Dursleys.
Renee grinned triumphantly, tucked a stray lock of dark auburn hair behind an ear, and then swiveled on the counter so she was facing the sandwich ingredients, folding her legs. "I made sure to get some grub at the store after Hedwig came back. The stuff in the fridge looked a little shonky."
Grinning a bit, Harry wordlessly handed over the container of roast beef slices, and then hopped up onto the counter beside his roommate. As she made her own sandwich, he absently contemplated flicking the back of her head, but then decided that the sandwich toppings would make a right mess on the floor if she kicked out. And then she'd scream and kill him.
He ate his sandwich in silence while Renee made hers. From his perch he couldn't see Ginny's door, but it didn't stop him from trying.
He was casting another surreptitious look down the corridor when Renee swung her legs back down and settled her plate on her lap. She shot Harry a sidelong look, a sly grin creeping across her left cheek.
"Well?"
"Well what?" Harry stared down at his plate and took a bite of his sandwich.
"You know what," she said in a low voice, ribbing him with her elbow.
"Shove off," Harry said irritably, giving her his own elbow.
Renee snorted. "Please, Harry. I'm not a dill."
"You're quite the stickybeak, aren't you?" Harry bit back a sigh and shoved more of the sandwich into his mouth, buying time. He supposed he really didn't have a good reason to be annoyed with Renee—after all, he'd just dropped her a note saying that he was bringing Ginny back with him. Not exactly the most considerate thing to do to your roommate.
"Is this one of those unmentionable thingies?" she whispered, with little mocking in her voice. Renee arched an eyebrow but looked less playful and more serious.
Harry shifted uncomfortably. What Renee knew about him was limited to mostly knowing that a Dark Arts war had broken out in the United Kingdom and that he had played a rather important role in it. The Australian newspapers had reported the war with interest, but since they were not actually in the middle of it, the effect was lost and, fortunately, so was much of Harry's "fame." As far as Renee was concerned, he had been in Auror training before he decided to take a sabbatical, and, yes, those few nightmares she'd been woken up by were just the expected trauma of living in a war zone.
Since Renee liked to have short-term roommates (to keep life interesting and provide for those who were not in need of leases or contracts), she easily accepted Harry's lack for sharing the past. However, she did always try to cheer him up if he got particularly melancholy or withdrawn, or lent an ear if he needed to talk.
Which Harry rarely wanted to do. Why trouble such a content person with his burdens since she definitely could never understand?
Still . . . he had to be fair, didn't he? And maybe she could help him with this particular problem.
"Fine," he sighed. "What do you want to know?"
Renee's eyes widened, and she tried not to smile too widely. Harry almost laughed as she tucked her bottom lip under her teeth in an attempt to hide her pleasure. "Really?"
"Not if you don't hurry up and stay quiet," he muttered, looking anxiously toward the darkened bedrooms.
"No worries, mate." She patted his arm reassuringly. Her heels again lightly banged against the cupboard doors as she contemplated her line of questioning. "Right. Who is she? You told me she's a mate from school, but she must be more than that if you've brought her here."
Harry made a noncommittal noise in the back of his throat, rubbing the back of his neck. "Um. Yes?" Heat crept up his neck, burning his fingertips. He picked at his sandwich instead.
"Yes she's a mate or yes she's more than that?"
"Don't you have to go to work or something?"
"At one. I've got thirty minutes. I'm Apparating," said Renee dismissively.
Damnit, Harry swore silently, wishing he hadn't agreed to the interrogation. "Brilliant." No longer hungry, he set his half-eaten sandwich down and gripped the edge of the counter with both bands. "Yes, she's a mate from school. No, we're not more than that."
"Reckon you're not stoked about that," she murmured sympathetically. "So, what happened?"
"What d'you mean?"
"She just looks like she's been run through." Renee shrugged; then she ducked her head and looked at him from behind the loose strands that had escaped her loose knot. "Like you," she said quietly.
Harry ran a hand through his hair, feeling his scar under the bottom of his palm. He winced inwardly. "Yeah, well . . . I don't know what's going on," he said helplessly, ignoring her last comment. "I think I know why, though. And no," Harry added pointedly, looking sharply at Renee, "I don't want to tell you."
Renee put her hands up in surrender. "Fine, fine! Don't get clucky with me!" Grinning wickedly, she shoved the last bit of sandwich into her mouth and said, "I think you two just need a good pash."
Then she hopped off the counter, leaving Harry to gape embarrassingly at her.
The last, comfortable vestiges of sleep lifted from Ginny, making her aware of the humming breeze flowing over her skin and causing her hair to tickle her back and arms. Moaning softly, she became aware of the comfortable but unknown bed and the claustrophobic confines of the dark room. Her brain lagged behind her pounding heart, and for a brief moment, she felt panic welling in her chest.
No, I'm in Australia, not Malfoy Manor. I'm just stuck in a cupboard in Harry's flat.
Shuddering at this, Ginny rolled onto her back, her left arm smacking against the wall. It flopped back onto her stomach as she opened her eyes. A beam of gray light sliced across the ceiling, and she stared at it, trying to reorient herself.
The new sights and smells flashed through her mind: the morning grogginess of Kings Cross, the glory of the Pacific Ocean, the white sand sifting into her shoes, the eclectic energy of Bronte and Bondi Junction, Harry's obvious easiness here, and Renee's buoyant welcome. All of these played across the beam and in her mind; she lay still to absorb them all again before stretching and allowing the present to affect her.
She had no idea what time or day it was, but she felt that she couldn't have slept an entire day. The acute stiffness in her limbs could have been worse, and she felt rejuvenated from a nap rather than weakened after a long sleep.
Oh, but she did feel grimy!
Pushing a hand into her hair, Ginny scowled at the snarls. The fan on her skin had kept it fairly dry, but she still felt in definite need of a bath, and her hair felt oily at the roots.
Getting out of bed, she flicked on the light and then peeked cautiously out.
Sounds of rummaging came from the living room, but she couldn't see whether it was Renee or Harry. Quietly, Ginny shut the door and turned to survey the pile of clothes on the trunk and her travel bag. She'd spent a little more than she'd wanted on the Poppins Travel Kit, but she'd reckoned it was better than magically expanding and resizing her own rucksack and hoping nothing got lost or damaged in the transfiguration. Money spent now was money saved later, right?
She set out her fresh undergarments and toiletries but returned to Renee's loaners to find something suitable for the heat she remembered from the walk through Bronte. Holding up a worn white t-shirt with The Ramones printed across it in black letters, Ginny frowned in confusion. Nearly every t-shirt had apparently shrunken to child size.
"I'm not this small," she grumbled, brandishing a bright yellow top. Feeling rather resentful, she tossed it down with The Ramones.
She finally decided on a pair of grey drawstring shorts and a faded green t-shirt that asked, "Have you seen my bunyip?" She had no idea what a bunyip was and hoped fervently that it wasn't a crude innuendo of some sort.
Gathering up her goods, she peeked once again out at the kitchen and corridor—and nearly slammed the door.
Harry had his Firebolt out on the island counter. Whether he was inspecting and repairing it or reacquainting himself, she didn't know, but she did know, however, that she didn't want to be caught in such a disheveled state.
Of course, before she could shut the door unobtrusively, he looked up and spotted her.
"Hey," he said, looking mildly surprised to see her.
Damn it all! It seemed a bit rude to ignore him, so she muttered a hello before skittering across the few feet to the bathroom. Once safely locked inside, she smacked her forehead and shot her reflection in the mirror a dirty look.
It wasn't as if Harry hadn't seen her looking worse before. He'd seen her nearly frozen, tortured, and hysterical as she'd stumbled blindly into Ron's arms, not a bit of sanity or dignity left in her—not to mention the time she was an inch from death on the Chamber of Secrets' floor. Why should she be embarrassed now?
I doubt he would care how nice you looked if he knew what you did, a cynical voice wheedled inside her head. What use are good looks when you're a weak little traitor?
"Shut up," she whispered harshly, throwing her clothes down on the floor. Not wanting to traipse around the apartment looking like a tramp had nothing to do with her weaknesses.
Instead, she fastened on that feeling of salty ocean air kissing her face and ran her bath water.
Twenty minutes later, she emerged from the bath feeling revived and clean. Unsure what to do with her things, she rolled her shampoo and soap containers inside her laundry and tucked it under arm. Again, she peeked cautiously out, feeling a little foolish and shy. Everything seemed quiet, so she crept out toward the kitchen and living room.
Sitting on a barstool and rubbing the back of his neck, Harry was bent over a small notepad and chewing musingly on the end of a pen. He looked up when she tentatively entered, and she pulled self-consciously on the hem of the borrowed shirt that didn't quite reach the low waist of the shorts, which exposed a couple inches of pale, freckled skin.
"Have a good nap?" Harry said after a slight pause. If Ginny didn't know better, she might have thought he was trying not to laugh behind the slight awkwardness in his voice.
"Yeah," she said, trying hard not to squirm. Now that she wasn't so travel-lagged, she was a bit more aware of the situation. "Um, what should I do with these?" she asked, motioning to the bundle under her right arm.
"Just toss them in the hamper in the bathroom. I'll do laundry tomorrow. Renee's been stockpiling for me," he added wryly.
"You toss your stuff in with hers?" Ginny asked incredulously.
"Well, yeah. What's wrong with that?"
"Oh, nothing," said Ginny. "I'm surprised, is all. I recall you having a problem with my knickers in Denver."
Harry promptly dropped his pen and stumbled off the barstool after it.
Had her hands not been preoccupied with her laundry, she would have clapped a hand over her mouth.
She was distracted from her bewilderment as Harry muttered something under his breath and reseated himself on the barstool, quite certainly not looking at her. "Come again?" she asked, still reeling from her bold tease.
"I said," Harry cleared his throat, "that's different."
The desire to tease him more welled up inside her, battling against her longstanding restraint. She bit her lip, wanting to scream in frustration. The urge to be her old self was growing stronger, but she couldn't let it; if she got too close to Harry, let those feelings override everything else . . . she could very well imagine the pain that would come from losing it all if the truth came out.
"Right," she said. "I'll just drop these off, then."
Back in the bathroom, she deposited her dirty clothes on top of Harry's smelly travel clothes and Renee's undergarments. She paused, staring at the silky material. How could naïve, innocent Harry handle living with a woman when he used to squirm at Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown's conversations? What sort of relationship did he have with Renee Blackstone to live with her—and did he really feel nothing about handling her knickers?
"Oh, bloody hell. It's none of my business. He can bloody snuggle her knickers and I shouldn't give a damn!" She slammed the hamper lid down and pressed her lips thinly together.
Looking sternly in the mirror, she forced down the unsettling feelings and thoughts. I need to let things be. I have to relax and just take everything as it comes. Think about that cliff; that was amazing.
Feeling less sulky, she returned to the kitchen (after dropping her bath bottles on her bed) to find Harry still mulling over the scribbles on the notepad. When he saw her, he turned slightly pink; she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt again as his green eyes flicked over her.
"What's a bunyip?" she asked as she saw his mouth twitch again. He definitely seemed amused whenever he looked at the shirt.
"You'll have to ask Renee, really," he said, raising an eyebrow and definitely trying to hold back a grin. "It's some mythical outback creature that Luna should be searching for."
Ginny grinned at that. "I'll ask Renee where she got it and send Luna one."
"She'd like that, I bet," said Harry. He shoved the notepad into a drawer. "Are you hungry?" he asked.
"A little," she shrugged, wondering what he'd been doing with the notepad. "What time is it?"
"A quarter past four. What are you hungry for?" Harry pointed his wand at the fridge, then swept it across the cupboards; the doors swung open obligingly. "There's a bit of the cut lunch left, but I can cook something or pop down to the grocer or—what?" He looked at her curiously, since Ginny had started giggling.
"Sorry," she said, trying hard not to smile as his bemused face. "It's just that I've never seen you domestic."
"Well, a person's got to eat, doesn't he?" said Harry indignantly, straightening his shoulders.
"Oh, I'm not taking the mickey on you," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "It's just . . . funny, that's all."
"That clears things up so well," he said dryly. He gestured with his left hand at the cupboards and fridge. "You might just want a snack, because we—you, me, Renee—are going down to The Rocks tonight. If you're up to it, that is."
"What's The Rocks?"
A grin flashed across his face at this. "It's great. You'll love it. It's the oldest part of Sydney. Rather touristy and crowded on the weekends, but there's some stuff down there—for wizards and Muggles."
Her curiosity piqued and eager to see more of the city, she asked, "When are we going?"
"Around six or so. Renee gets off at five. So," said Harry, turning to the food, "what're you hungry for?"
After a few minutes of deliberation, Ginny settled on some strawberries and the remains of the pasta salad Harry had thrown together earlier. As she munched, she asked Harry questions about the city. He hardly needed any prodding to launch into enthusiastic details about the racy red-light district of Kings Cross and Darlinghurst (where you could barely distinguish between wizard and Muggle), going with Renee to music venues down at The Rocks, Wharf, and Circular Quay, catching off-season Quidditch matches in Moore Park, and also joining one of the local pub teams.
By the time five o'clock rolled around, Ginny felt invigorated by Harry's enthusiasm and caught some of it herself. Harry was telling her about "shrimp on the Barbie" when Renee came through the door.
"G'day!" she called, laughing as a black streak came through the patio door and skidded across the kitchen. "Rum! C'mere, you Bushie terror!"
Scooping the cat up, she kicked off her thongs and settled Rum on the island, her eyes bouncing from Ginny to Harry. "So, are we going out, then?" asked Renee. Rum arched rapturously under her fingers, purring loudly.
"Yeah, I think so," said Harry, glancing at Ginny questioningly.
Ginny smiled, completely enamored by Harry's long chatter about Sydney. "Definitely."
"Strewth," said Renee, slapping the counter with her palm. Rum jumped slightly, shot his mistress a reproachful look, and then sidled over to Ginny to lick her hand.
She giggled at his rough, neat little tongue and scratched him behind his ears. "How old is he?" she asked curiously. "He looks like a kitten."
"He's over a year," Renee shrugged, batting at Rum's flicking tail. "He's a runt. That's why I like him." She cooed at her cat and he swiveled around to butt his head against her hands. After a moment of this, Rum moved past the girls' affectionate administrations to give Harry a pointed look.
"Oh, I'm so very sorry," said Harry wryly as the cat yowled demandingly at him. Smirking, he scratched Rum under the chin. Once Rum was satisfied that everyone had given him the proper amount of love, he jumped off the counter and trotted back out to the balcony to watch the birds on a power line.
"All right," said Renee brightly. "Let's all change and go down to The Rocks! We might have a chance to catch Bohem Tragedy for a set. I needed a review on them last week."
"So why didn't you catch them last week?" asked Harry.
"Alex was in with his band in Bundy," said Renee offhandedly, although Ginny caught a certain amount of girlish glee in those dark eyes. "I couldn't say no."
"Uh-huh," Harry said slowly, leaving no doubt in anyone's mind what he meant by that. It rather reminded Ginny of the "uh-huh" he'd used on Ron when her brother was battling in denial over his feelings for Hermione.
"Anyway—" Renee turned to Ginny, "—we've got to get ready!" Without waiting for an answer, she grabbed Ginny by the wrist and dragged her into the farthest bedroom, yelling over her shoulder that Harry should make an effort with his hair.
"That's a lost cause," Ginny told her in a low voice as Renee started tossing things at her.
"I know," Renee grinned over her shoulder, "but it's just so fun to mummy him."
"This place is wonderful," Ginny declared a few hours later as she, Harry, and Renee stepped out of The Walkabout. She felt rather lightheaded from the live music, chatter, and cold daiquiris she'd been treated to while Renee scribbled down a band review and caught a couple of words with Bohem Tragedy (Ginny rather thought the lead singer's hair was a tragedy).
The Rocks on a Friday night seemed to be pure energy and eccentricity. A market throbbed through the winding little streets of cafes, shops, and cobblestones. Sydneysiders and tourists alike intermixed, enjoying the warm evening and gentle breeze coming off the harbor. The water sparkled from the glow of the towering, lighted skyscrapers of City Centre, boats passed under the arching bridge and blew their horns, and quiet, romantic couples found seclusion among the livelier outlets.
"I knew you'd love it," said Renee. Tonight she wore a tangerine halter-top with a short white skirt and chunky sandals. Her hair had been let loose into waves again and her lips and eyes were touched with gloss. Many a male (and some female) had noticed how she fed off the energy, and Ginny felt a bit more self-conscious beside the flamboyant older woman.
Renee had loaned her another little blue dress. This one, however, was not faded and seemed fairly new, and also was made of a silk-polyester hybrid that felt wonderful against her skin but made her a little too aware of how close it was against her skin. Along with the dress, Renee had also insisted she wear some low-heel sandals that could be charmed to any shade she desired. After much deliberation (Renee would not accept simple black or white), the Aussie decided on nude, and so Ginny caught herself looking at her feet and thinking she'd lost her shoes.
Her hair was held partially back in a clip; the rest of it fell free around her face and down her back. Renee had made Ginny promise to let her "play with it" sometime soon. Now, Ginny self-consciously finger a free lock, wondering apprehensively what the other woman would do to it.
As she did so, she caught Harry looking at her, and she felt a warmth creep up her neck. He'd been looking at her quite a bit tonight—much like how the passing males had been gazing at Renee. A warning voice in her head told her she should stop that now, but The Rocks had overwhelmed her sensibility and she felt light and eager for whatever these streets would throw at her.
"Oh, yes," Renee said, slinging an arm around Harry's shoulders and grinning madly at him. "Harry and I have fond memories of this place, don't we, Harry?"
"Nay," Harry said warningly, a steadying hand on her waist.
"Oooh, you don't like this story, do you?" teased Renee, pulling lightly on his ear.
"You embellish it," Harry muttered, looking down at the cobblestone.
"How would you know? You can hardly remember it, you had the wobbly boot that night!" Seemingly unaware that Harry was sending her a very dark look indeed, Renee waggled her eyebrows at Ginny while slapping Harry playfully on the chest. "This bloke here thought himself a right ol' Bushie and got himself a gutful of piss. Mind you, he can't hold much. Wish I hadn't had so much myself, so I could recollect better what a wonderful snog he was—"
"All right, let's go to Cadman's," Harry said loudly, giving Renee a push toward the street and away from The Walkabout's door.
"Aw, Hay," said Renee amusedly, "I think I remember you were a ripper, up until the part you passed out."
"I didn't pass out," Harry said defensively, sounding rather grumpy. "I fell asleep."
"A sleepy drunk. You'd be cute if you weren't so pathetic," Renee teased, dropping her arm off his shoulders to pinch his arm.
"Cut it out," Harry growled.
Through this exchange, Ginny tried to hard not to acknowledge the sickening punch in her gut. She couldn't help but steal glances at Harry, but he seemed to be determinedly keep his face away from her and the narrow streets didn't give her enough light to judge his profile. However, his shoulders had stiffened and he seemed very annoyed by Renee reminiscing.
It's not my business if they snog, she told herself stubbornly. Harry and I are barely friends anymore, so he can snog whomever he bloody wants.
"Ah, you're such a dag, Hay," Renee said affectionately, patting Harry's shoulder and turning to Ginny. "You see, Ginny, I generally make it a rule not to get involved with roommates. If I put up with a bloke, I generally pretend that I prefer a Sheila for a bit, to put them off and not try anything with the Old Fella. That was especially enjoyable with Harry here. He's so innocent when it comes to things like that."
Ginny blinked. After seeing the photo in Harry's letter, she'd completely forgotten that Harry had implied that Renee was bit unconventional.
"Anyway, no drama with him," continued Renee, as if Ginny wasn't trying to not to gape obviously at her. "Oooh!" she suddenly exclaimed, dodging a middle-aged tourist couple consulting a guide and walking at the same time. "Icy poles!"
In seconds she returned bearing three popsicles and handed them each one. "This night is on me, you just remember," she said before giving her red dessert an eager lick. "You said you wanted to go to Cadman's, Harry?"
"Yeah," said Harry, still sounding a bit disconcerted and subdued. "Ginny hasn't seen the, er, non-Muggle part yet."
Renee led them through the little winding streets, stopping every now and then to peek at something on a cart or under an awning. As they walked, Ginny and Harry bumped into each other every now and then, each time strikingly reminding Ginny of a time when they hadn't felt self-conscious or awkward. Although she sensed a gloomy cloud at the back of her mind at this, it was pushed away by the sights and smells around her, and she found herself wanting Harry to feel the same way.
"I wondered why you hardly touched anything when we were in the pub," said Ginny after her arm brushed against Harry's again.
"Er—yeah," said Harry, sounding thoroughly embarrassed. "I never want to be that pissed again." He rubbed his forehead and winched. "The morning after is hell."
Ginny started to laugh—then she stumbled on a missing cobblestone. Harry caught her by the elbow.
"Steady on. How many did you have back there, anyway?" he asked.
Ginny slipped her toes back under the sandal thong and brushed off Harry's bracing hands. "Not that many. I tripped on the street. I'm not drunk," she added as an amused grin crept up the right side of Harry's mouth.
"I didn't say anything," he said innocently.
"No, but you looked like you were going to."
"Maybe you've just got a guilty conscience."
Shooting Harry a dirty look at that, Ginny walked a little faster, but Harry quickly matched her pace, a dopey little grin on his face. She felt her own mouth quivering and nearly broke into a jog to catch up to Renee. However, this proved awkward in sandals, and so she slowed down enough to walk with some dignity. Harry chuckled quietly at this.
Renee was waiting for them in an open area just in front of a small hill and wall. An old, empty-looking, yellowish stone building snuggled up to the mound and barrier. Through the milling people, Ginny could see a small sign reading Cadman's Cottage. Tourists were giving it curious but disappointed looks as they paused to read the sign and consult their guides; the regulars to The Rocks paid it no heed.
"This is one of the oldest buildings in Sydney," said Renee, gesturing at the cottage. "It's a nice little tourist landmark, but there's no tour tonight." She smiled. "That just makes it easier for us."
As she led them closer to the cottage and then around behind it, Renee said quietly, "You can practically wander into the wizarding part of The Rocks if you know where you're going, but this way is fun too."
In the darkness behind the cottage, Ginny could barely make anything out. However, Renee confidently moved into the darkest corner. Then, quite suddenly, like a bat launching itself out of its cage, a door swung open and a figure strode out of a rectangle of flickering light.
"Oh, pardon," said the wizard, stepping aside for them.
"No worries," Renee said cheerfully. "Come on," she said to Ginny and Harry, holding the door open, "before a Muggle sees us."
With Harry right behind her, Ginny followed Renee into the dim, flickering torchlight and found herself in a sort of corridor of stone and earth. It wasn't very wide and they had to squeeze past a Muggle-dressed witch and wizard (their wands were out and they were glaring fiercely at one another) a few feet inside the door. Despite the earthy atmosphere, cool, fresh air streamed around them. They turned a corner and suddenly the narrow expanse opened into a brightly lit room full of noise and the smell of pipe and drink.
"This is The Hobbit Hole," explained Renee as they made their way down stairs cut out of the wall to the main floor. "I've never really read about hobbits, but apparently they're these little people that live in homes under hills, and so . . ." She gestured at the lively patrons, some several hours past being coherent.
"C'mon," said Harry, nodding toward another set of stairs where a constant stream of people was coming and going.
They emerged from The Hobbit Hole to find a very similar part of The Rocks as before, except that this was obviously not Muggle. Wizards and witches, many dressed in Muggle summer wear like the arguing couple in the Cadman tunnel, were laughing and calling to one another; owls swooped down to find purchase on ledges before launching off again; under a drooping awning, several young Hogwarts-age teenagers were playing Exploding Snap; to their left, and whimpering plaintively, a foolish-looking wizard was hopping in circles on his hands, his trousers legs falling down to his knees to reveal striped socks while his friends laughed and pointed.
Ginny smiled, feeling something akin to utter joy swell in her chest. The past couple of days had been rather surreal, passing through Muggle and wizarding worlds in a disconnected sort of way. Then just this morning she'd found an enchanted, suspended world in Muggle Bronte and The Rocks. Now she found something comforting and exciting in arriving to a brand new magical place; it was a life she'd known thrown into a fresh perspective.
Lightly touching her hand, Harry titled his head down and said softly, "I know."
She turned and looked at him. Harry wasn't exactly smiling, but he wore an understanding, serene sort of expression as his eyes gazed at her before sweeping over the serpentine streets of magical displays and enjoyment. The wizarding world of England had taken its toll on Harry, and although it was home to him, he needed to get away from it for a while, but the Muggle world had never been for him, and so finding a magical place with enough untouched—untainted—familiarity soothed him. She understood this completely, because, at this moment, she felt it too.
"Want to go to The Pitch?" Harry asked Renee.
"At this hour?" she snorted. "It'll be as busy as a cat burying—"
"Okay, then where would you like to go?"
"Oh, let's just sweep through and wander. Let Ginny tell us when to stop."
Ginny was quite content to just float along, listening to Harry and Renee banter back and forth or trade hellos with people they knew. She noted some closed shops she might want to look at another time, and, as they passed The Pitch (a raucous game pub filled with Oliver Woods), some places she didn't. A peddler tried to sell her some gorgeous but unnecessary fashion scarves that could also "be altered to discomfort an enemy." Renee bought them a round of sparkling, clear purple drinks that tickled Ginny's stomach and made her feel as if she'd just jumped through a cool spring. Her host also tossed a few wizard coins into the hat of a three-piece band on the corner of Sickle & Moore, a novelty shop for visiting magical folk.
Just as she was about to ask Harry and Renee if they could stop by the candy apple shop, she saw something out of the corner of her eye that made her heart jolt. Spinning around and nearly twisting her ankle on the uneven street, she peered into a shadowy bend in the side street to her left. In the flickering torchlight and milling crowd, she could barely make out a figure disappearing into the deeper shadows and then vanish behind the buildings.
"No," she whispered under her breath, a hand at her heart. It couldn't be . . . A trick of the light, her underlying nerves playing with her imagination . . . But why did she have to see him now? What could he possibly be doing in Australia, anyway? Not every white-blonde wizard is Draco Malfoy, and that one didn't even look like him, really.
"Ginny?" Harry called, turning and noticing her hesitance. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she said, blinking and giving her head a shake. She smiled and pushed out of her mind any thoughts that Draco Malfoy could possibly conjure up. "I just thought I saw someone I knew, that's all. Trick of the light."
Harry frowned and looked ready to ask her who, but Renee interrupted by begging them to go into Merlin's Trick, a building completely dedicated to magical games.
"I'm off to bed," Renee whispered to Harry as she returned the water pitcher to the fridge. "Don't stay up too late," she added, nodding toward the balcony and giving him a meaningful look.
Harry glanced out toward the balcony as Renee padded toward her room, shutting off the main kitchen light as she went so only the night lamp glowed across the counters.
Perched on the wide railing of the balcony, her hands clasping the edge, ankles locked around the vertical poles, Ginny had her head tilted up toward the sky. She'd been out there ever since they'd returned from The Rocks, just gazing out at Bronte. Harry could sense an introspective moment and had kept away, not wanting to disturb her, but he'd been restless and had not been unable to really do anything except send Hedwig out for her hunt. Renee had noticed and nudged him every now and then before retiring just now.
Sighing, Harry made his way out to the balcony. He hesitated at the sliding door, then took his chance and stepped, bare-footed, onto the still warm stone.
She didn't acknowledge him, but he didn't get the impression that she was ignoring him. Stepping up to the rail, he rested his elbows on it and looked out over the glowing lights and dark shapes of Bronte. The night wind cooled his face and he could see the silvery flicker of the distant waves under the moonlight. Following the glow of the night's horizon, he gazed up at the now-familiar sky hovering above the faint orange glow of electricity. Not a cloud marred the velvet, diamond-studded sky. It was the perfect night.
Beside him, Ginny inhaled deeply, and he gazed up at her from the corner of his eye. Her eyes were open and flickering under the moonlight as they swept over the spread of civilization and vast ocean before her. Pale but iridescent under the moonlight, she seemed to be soaking in the night like a starved, mythical creature. He suddenly envisioned her letting go of the railing to fling herself into the sky as he'd just seen Hedwig do.
"Don't you love this?" she said breathlessly, as if not wanting to disturb the dance of city lights and starlight or be heard over the roar of the ocean.
"It is nice," said Harry, inadequate at describing how nights such as this made him feel.
"I love it," Ginny went on, her voice filled with something like wistful wonderment. "It's just so good to be somewhere where it's just you, where it's untouched by your life. You still carry everything you've done, everything that's happened to you, but it doesn't know it—you haven't marred it . . ."
She trailed off, sounding sad. Harry couldn't quite look at her as she closed her eyes and dropped her chin a bit. The ocean breeze toyed with her hair, brushing it across her eyes, cheeks, and neck. He felt a tightening in his chest as he looked away, gazing unseeingly into the garden below. Questions burned inside him; questions that had been unanswered for two years since she'd gazed at him with dead eyes in the infirmary bed.
"Ginny," he said quietly after several minutes had passed. He swallowed before pressing on, feeling just as he had on that horrible day. "What happened to you?"
Pain flitted across her face and her closed eyes tightened. "Don't, Harry," she whispered firmly. "Please, just let me savor this."
Surprising frustration shot through him, and he bit down on his tongue. Trying hard not to show this, he stood up and turned but did not leave. Instead, he leaned the small of his back against the rail and crossed his arms.
"Okay," he said quietly. He'd been closed off from her so long that it was almost habitual—not that it hurt any less. Not wanting to dwell on this (but it was forefront in his mind), he said, "Did you have a good time tonight?"
Ginny opened her eyes and smiled, relief sliding down her bare, freckled shoulders as she turned to him. "Oh, yes. I can't wait to see more."
"So you're glad you came, then?" said Harry, his eyes following her small, eager smile. He'd been trying hard not to look at her lips the past couple of days, but they'd always been right there, dark and untouchable. She hadn't applied any of her make-up today, her lips just as he'd remembered.
"Yes, I am now," she said, her smile fading a bit. She licked her lips and shifted slightly on the railing. "I wasn't so sure at first, but now I think it might have been the first sensible thing I've done in a long time."
Again, pain tightened across her face, but she seemed to hold it in check. Harry thought he should say something, but he knew he wasn't good at saying the right thing, and he couldn't concentrate on hardly anything but how her mouth moved.
"I'm glad," he said quietly, managing to find something decent to say. "How long do you think you'll stay?" he added, wanting very much to know the answer. She was here, talking to him and maybe, somehow, he could absolve at least one thing that had been hurt by him.
"I . . . don't know," said Ginny, looking troubled. "I guess it depends on how long you'll let me."
"As long as you like," said Harry, feeling that odd intensity in him he'd always kept dormant except on that fateful night when he'd lost control of it. Once again his eyes fastened on her mouth and his arms fell slack, his left dropping to his side while his right found the railing. His fingertips brushed against the side of her hand as he took a tiny step toward her.
Ginny's eyes widened, her lips parted slightly; his heart pounded . . .
"We agreed we were only friends," she said harshly, lifting her hand off the railing.
Harry, stunned out of the urge that had consumed him, looked up at her darkly. "We've hardly been friends for two years, Ginny."
Her jaw tightened and she gripped the rail hard. Right then he wanted to burst out exactly what he should have said in the hospital wing, exactly what he wanted to say now, and damn the pain that came with it!
He opened his mouth to tell her that he'd lied about his feelings because he'd wanted to protect her, and he knew she hated that, but he was stupid at the time and learned his lesson, and that he was going to tell her that day in the hospital wing but she wouldn't let him, and, well, he should have just plowed on through, even after she told him she didn't return the feelings, and that he was rather sure he still had those feelings and had an inkling that there was a name for them—
But then he shut his mouth. What was the point, really? She must know, because she'd just reminded him that they were "just friends," and had probably known what he'd been very tempted to do just now and, while he was thinking about it, didn't obeying her orders two years ago just hint a little bit to how he felt? Clearly, she didn't want share it.
"Good night, then," he said coolly.
She flinched but did not look at him. Trying to ignore the pain and bitterness burning through him, Harry left without another word.
Some Aussie Vocab:
cut lunch – sandwiches
sanger- sandwich
shonky – dodgy, underhanded, etc
dill – idiot, not the full quid, etc
stickybeak – nosy, Hermione
stoked – happy, thrilled, ecstatic
clucky – cranky, maternal
pash – long, passionate kiss
had the wobbly boot/gutful of piss – drunk
The Walkabout – a walk in the Outback for an infinite amount of time
ripper – something great, fantastic
dag – nerd, goof
Old Fella – er, I bet you can figure this out ;-)