Ginny Weasley looked up from her parchment and books, her chocolate brown eyes wide in surprise. The Room of Requirement had provided her with a large desk – almost comically large. She was practically dwarfed next to the huge stacks of musty books, sheaves of parchment, and outsize desk. The chair was equally large, and she had been swinging her legs before Harry had surprised her.
"Oh...sorry, did you...would you like me to leave?" she asked, looking a bit flustered.
"No, no," Harry said quickly, stepping in and closing the door. He'd been so caught off guard that he'd been standing in the doorway with one foot in and one foot out of the Room – not a good place to be if Filch came walking by.
"So...aren't you supposed to be in class?" Harry asked, looking around the room. All the Defense books were still on their shelves, but the mats had been neatly stacked, and there were a few potted plants, and a lamp right next to the desk.
Ginny blushed, and her cheerful, abashed grin reminded Harry of one of the twins. "Well," she countered, "I could say the same about you."
"I guess so," Harry admitted, "I just wanted to...get a head start. For the meeting tonight."
"Mm," Ginny nodded, and turned her eyes away. Harry sighed inwardly. She'd obviously seen right through his lie, and knew as well as he did that he was here to avoid Ron and try desperately to garner a few hours to himself.
"You know," she said, looking up at him earnestly, "I really will go if you'd like."
"No," Harry said, feeling a sudden and strange need for her to stay, "Please don't. I'm always...I'd rather not be..."
Ginny nodded and smiled. Harry felt extremely grateful that he didn't have to keep talking. "Want to help me with this? I'm doing that goblin research for Bill and Fleur."
"Oh, alright then," Harry said, glancing about the room. He saw a similar chair to Ginny's in the corner, and dragged it over. It reminded him rather strongly of the ones in the Weasley's old kitchen. Come to think of it...
"That's...that's the kitchen table, isn't it? It's not a desk at all..."
Ginny flushed slightly, and took her hair out from behind her ear so it fell in a red curtain, obscuring her face.
"You must miss it," Harry said, looking around him and mapping the Burrow onto the Room of Requirement. There would be the range...and there, the door. Mrs. Weasley's chair over there, near the clock...he realized he missed it, too, from the brief time he'd spent there.
"Yeah," Ginny said, quietly, "I've been sneaking here every once in a while. Sometimes I can make things happen...like this table, or I can make the hearth from the kitchen show up. Once it was my bedrooom...complete, with my bed and my dresser and everything. I tried to show Ron once, but he didn't like it. I don't think he likes to remember," she said, her face still partly obscured by her hair, "Then again, after the Brain Room, he's sort of gotten used to dealing with things by blocking them out..."
"We don't have to talk about it," Harry said, hastily. What was it about him that made girls miserable? He was sure his father hadn't...he and Sirius had probably had them rolling in the aisles.
"It's alright," Ginny said, smiling, "Have a seat."
"You've been working hard," Harry said, as he sat next to her, glancing at her note-scribbled pages as he reached for a fresh sheet himself.
"Yeah," Ginny said, with a grin, "I feel like Her...mione..."
She paled and glanced up at Harry anxiously, as though just realizing what she'd said. Harry actually chuckled.
"I'm sorry," she said, "That was really, really stupid –"
"It's alright," Harry said, shaking his head and wrinkling his nose as though the whole thing were quite silly, "You only said her name, I mean, it's not like...we're still..."
He trailed off. Were they still friends? She'd been angry when she'd left. But was she only angry at Ron? Or at both of them?
"Or only at me?" Harry thought miserably, "She always knows what I'm thinking, and I hardly ever know what she's thinking...I obviously didn't know what she was thinking about Ron..."
"Want to talk about it?" Ginny asked, gently.
Harry shrugged.
"She still loves you, Harry. They both do," Ginny said, simply, putting her hand on top of his.
To his horror, Harry felt his chest tighten.
"Just...well, maybe not in the way you'd like. I think that's part of why they kept it from you."
"Yeah," Harry said thickly. But just then a new thought occurred to him:
"Hang on...You knew?"
Ginny sighed, and leaned back as she put her quill down, and pulled her hair up into a sloppy half-bun.
"How long have you known? How long has it...since the beginning of the year?"
Ginny stayed quiet.
"Since last year?"
"Well, Harry," Ginny said, eyeing him apologetically, "Didn't you think it was kind of odd how they had that big fight in fourth year, and then...nothing?"
"They've been sleeping together since fourth year?" Harry sputtered, his mind reeling.
"Of course not!" Ginny said, rolling her eyes, "It's just that, that's when everything got started I suppose. They wrote each other a lot that summer. And then of course, with everything that happened last year, it just brought them closer and closer together."
"But how long – "
"Oh, for heaven's sake, Harry, who knows? Who cares? How is it our business?" Ginny snapped, "It's not like they give me a daily briefing. If you want to know so badly, why don't you ask Ron?"
"Sorry," Harry said, feeling abashed. It was pretty rude of him to drill Ginny for answers like that.
"It's alright, Harry," Ginny said, patiently, smiling at him again, "To be honest, I'm pretty sure it's not what you think. I don't think Hermione's the type to...well, I just don't think they'd do something like that. I imagine it has a lot more to do with comfort than anything else."
Harry's forehead creased. In his book, comfort was a pat on the back, not hopping into bed together, but then, what did he know about love?
"You forget Harry, you're not the only one who's had a rough couple of years," Ginny reminded him, gently, patting his hand, "I don't know for sure, but I reckon this first started happening after Malfoy attacked her."
"How do you know all this?" Harry asked, incredulosly.
"And how did I miss all this?" he added, to himself.
"Well, after it happened, I talked to Parvati and Lavender about her...they said she kept having nightmares. And then later, when I asked if she was still having them, they gave each other a funny look, and said they didn't know. And the way Ron was behaving...I just sort of...put it together."
Harry sighed. "I feel a bit stupid that you figured it out and I didn't. I mean, they're supposed to be my best friends."
"Harry, you have to remember, I'm Ron's sister," she said, giving his hand a squeeze, "I can sort of read him...the way I can read you. I guess it's just growing up in a house full of boys."
"Maybe that's why so many guys like you," Harry said, tickling his chin with his quill thoughtfully, "Because you understand us."
"Not so many guys!" Ginny said, her eyes flashing indignantly.
"I didn't mean it that way!" Harry protested, sincerely, "Really! I never think of you that way."
But this also seemed to have been the wrong thing to say, because Ginny's indignation morphed into a befuddled, wounded expression, and she suddenly turned back to her work.
"Ginny, come on," Harry said, putting his head in his hands desperately, "Whatever I said, I didn't mean it. I'm at my wits end here. I'm afraid I've lost my two best friends over something stupid, and I don't want to lose another one."
Harry felt a small hand on his, and looked up to see Ginny smiling at him gently, as though he'd said something silly. She looked so familiar...
"I've already told you, Harry. You haven't lost anybody. Listen, Ron's just freaking out a bit because he never really felt he deserved Hermione, and the way you reacted sort of confirmed his worst fears. You and Hermione have such a strong relationship...he feels intimidated by it. He'll come around, eventually. Hermione is worried sick that she's betrayed your trust beyond repair, and at the same time, she just wants to be happy herself, so she's all mixed up right now...and you..." Ginny added hesitantly, piercing him with her chocolate brown eyes that he couldn't look away from, "Well, you're a bit...mixed up about her, aren't you?"
Harry swallowed, and nodded. Ginny paused for a second.
"You know, Harry...I can't give you the answers on that one. But..."
She sighed, and looked away for a moment, her red hair shining softly in the light of her desk lamp. She turned back to him, smiling wanly.
"Well, let me just put it this way: No one is leaving you. Not Hermione, not Ron, not me, not anybody. We all love you too much."
The knot in Harry's chest began to untangle in a way that still hurt, but felt good at the same time – like laying down after a hard Quidditch practice, or the way Fawkes' singing made him feel. Suddenly it really did seem that everything would be alright. He looked up at Ginny's face gratefully, and she looked so calm, and comforting, the way she was smiling at him. Her nose crinkled slightly when she smiled, and her freckles bunched together. Stray wisps of red were falling out of her sloppy half-bun...he could just picture her absent-mindedly pushing them out of the way...
He decided to do it for her...
"Umm...Harry..." she said, her voice hesitant, a caution.
But before he knew it, Harry had put his hand behind her neck, and he was kissing her.
It was completely different from his kiss with Cho. That had been awkward and terrifying and wet and so unexpected that he'd been sort of paralyzed at the time. It had been exciting, of course, since it was his first kiss, but the more Harry thought on it, later, the more he realized it had been pretty awful.
This...
He could sense Ginny stiffen at first, but suddenly it was as though something had come alive in her, and her arms were pulling at his clothes, gathering him close to her, as they attacked each other desperately. Harry breathed in her familiar smell of wool sweaters and flowers and fresh clover, and the wind over the Quidditch pitch. Her mouth was so soft, her breath hot...she made a small noise in the back of her throat, and Harry felt as though he'd go mad, and maybe everything he'd been worrying about would just go away...Voldemort, Ron and Hermione, Dumbledore, the whole school, everything, would just take a vacation and let him have something for himself, just for himself, just once.
He tilted his head, and kissed her jaw hungrily, then pulled her hair to one side, and traveled to the soft skin under her ear. She was saying something, her voice making her throat hum under his lips. What was that?
"Harry," she said, "Stop."
No, he couldn't have heard her right.
"Mm?" he murmured, burying his face in the crook of her neck as though hoping he could hide there.
"I said stop," Ginny said, pushing him away, gently. To his horror, Harry heard her voice shaking.
He looked up, and his worst fears were confirmed – Ginny's eyes were shining.
Ice water flooded his stomach, and his face, by contrast, began to slowly heat to the temperature of his Potions cauldron.
"Bloody hell," he said, and turned away quickly.
"It's not fair, Harry!" Ginny said, desperation in her voice, "I keep telling myself I'm over you...you can't keep...it's not fair!"
Bugger.
"I know, Ginny, I know. I'm so sorry," Harry said, squinting his eyes shut, "It's just..."
"I know what it is, Harry, believe me, I know what it feels like to want someone, and they don't want you back," Ginny said, wiping her eyes. She didn't sound angry...just deeply upset, and Harry almost wished she'd get angry at him.
"But it can't be like this. I can't just go ahead and...just because you need me to fill some hole that Ron and Hermione left."
Harry's jaw nearly hit the table. The ice water surged uncomfortably.
"Ginny...is that what you think this..."
"Isn't it?" Ginny asked, her eyes still shining, "It's Warm Body Syndrome! Everyone and everything is so messed up right now, how can you possibly know what you want?"
"Warm...what?"
Harry stammered helplessly. He suddenly felt so stupid. He ought to know what "Warm Body Syndrome" meant, he shouldn't have to have Ginny Weasley explain it to him like he was some naive first year. He was utterly hopeless – he made girls cry just by kissing them! He should have known he wouldn't be normal at "girls," he wasn't normal at anything else...
"You've never wanted me before. You didn't want me just a month or two ago! Why now? Why this, all of a sudden?"
Harry sighed. She was right...she had to be right. What else could it be? He kicked himself mentally. How could he do something so selfish? It was wrong of him. Wrong of him to want things like...
He didn't deserve it.
"I'm sorry, Ginny," he said, "It was a mistake. I'll never do it again. I promise."
"Oh, Harry!" Ginny said, sounding truly distraught, "That's not what I..."
"No," Harry said firmly, "I understand. It wasn't fair of me to take advantage of you like that."
Ginny looked crestfallen, but she laughed a watery laugh anyway.
"'Take advantage of me?'...you sound like my Mum."
Blimey.
"Now there's an image I wasn't expecting," Harry thought grimly, as he imagined Mrs. Weasley's furious gaze being directly squarely at him, her eyebrow arched menacingly, as though to say, "Just what precisely, have you been doing with my only daughter?" Forget about the phalanx of red-haired older brothers...
Ginny's laughter caught Harry by surprise, and brought him abruptly back to reality.
"You don't need to look so terrified, Harry, it was just a kiss."
"Right," Harry said, feeling somewhat back to normal, and a bit put out at the same time. Just a kiss? It really must have been awful.
"Well, I promise not to, err, misbehave anymore," he said, feeling somewhat back to normal, and somewhat disappointed to be so.
Ginny didn't reply but nodded and smiled strangely.
"Well, shall we try and make some more headway on this?" Harry said, indicating the books in front of them.
Ginny gave the same strangled smile and nod, and they returned to their work.
The awkwardness of those first few moments quickly disappated as they got involved in their work. Harry had never really paid much attention in History of Magic, but he'd never before realized just how many goblin rebellions there had been throughout history. It seemed every hundred years or so, the goblins got fed up and rose up. Hostilities would cease, with the Ministry (or king, or Council, depending on what era it was) would promise to do something about whatever was bothering them...unfair taxation, or segregation, for example. Some minor decree would be passed, which was later overturned, or ignored, depending on its importance. And the cycle would continue.
After another hour, Harry leaned back and squinted, rubbing his eyes firmly, until he saw spots.
"I know," Ginny said, leaning back herself, and rotating her neck back and forth. Harry could hear it crackle dully, "There's so much."
"What kind of detail do they need? I mean, they might as well read the books themselves."
"They don't have time," Ginny said, suppressing a yawn, "They just want to be well-informed when they meet with them, I suppose. You know, names, dates, facts and figures...things like that."
"Which 'them' do you suppose they're meeting with?" Harry mused, "Griphook and the other Gringotts goblins? Or is there a separate group?"
"Well, I've read there's a colony over near Salisbury," Ginny said, eyeing a stack of books she'd already read, "But it was an old book. They might not even be there anymore, they've been resettled so many times."
"That's really disgusting," Harry said, firmly, his jaw set in anger, "How the Ministry just...shoves them around like that."
Ginny looked up at him, taken off-guard by his sudden outburst. Harry's mind traveled back to his cupboard under the stairs, to the oppressive neatness and normalcy of Privet Drive.
"No one should have to live where they don't want to," he said vehemently.
Ginny smiled.
"What?" Harry asked, a bit annoyed.
"Nothing," Ginny said, still grinning, "You err...just sound a bit like..."
"Oh no," Harry said, now grinning himself, "What's next? Society Promoting the Rebellion of Angry Goblins?"
"SPRAG? I like it," Ginny said, grinning mischievously, her freckles bunching at her nose, as she tucked one leg under the other, "How about GAG? Grassroots Anarchists for Goblins?"
"How about Promotion of United Kingdom Elfhood?"
"PUKE?"
They went back and forth until Harry was almost in tears from laughing so hard. He sighed deeply, as he wiped his streaming eyes. Ginny was staring at him oddly.
"What?"
"It's good to hear you laugh," she said, earnestly, resting her chin on one hand, "I just wish you'd get rid of those." She jutted her chin upwards towards Harry's face.
"What, my glasses?" Harry asked, "I kind of need them."
"No, not your glasses silly. Whatever you did to your eyes."
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, still chuckling. If this was a joke, it wasn't terribly funny...he couldn't really see where Ginny was going with this.
"I mean the color, silly. Don't play dumb. What is it, a glamour? Or those muggle things? Tonks was telling me Muggles could put those things in their eyes now that change their color..."
"What are you talking about?" Harry asked, beginning to feel really nervous.
Ginny's eyebrows raised.
"Your eyes, Harry...they've been hazel for months now. I first noticed it at the Halloween Party, but I thought that it was just—"
Harry interrupted her, and stood quickly, glancing around the room.
"Mirror," he thought, desperately, "I need a mirror."
Sure enough, he turned around and found one on the wall behind him that he'd never noticed before.
Ginny turned in her chair slowly, her freckles standing out against her ashen face.
"You mean to say, you didn't know?"
Harry crossed the room slowly, looked up into the mirror, and nearly jumped out of his skin – it was as though his father was looking back at him.
"How could you not notice?" Ginny asked from behind him, her voice shaking.
It was possible, Harry reflected, as he gawked at himself, open-mouthed. It was possible he wouldn't notice. He never really looked in the mirror anymore...his hair did whatever it was going to do anyway, and the mirrors in the sixth year boy's room were on the wall to the left of his bed, just past where Ron slept...his view of it was blocked by Ron's bed.
Hadn't Hagrid mentioned he looked like his father? And Lupin? Even Ron and Hermione had mentioned something was different, though none of them could put their finger on it. Really, how often do you wander around staring into people's eyes, checking that they haven't changed color?
"Ginny," Harry asked, slowly, "What color are Parvati's eyes?"
"What color are?...err...Brown? I think?"
"And how about Lavender's? Or McGonagall's?"
Ginny was quiet, and didn't answer. Harry stared at himself wild- (and hazel) –eyed in the mirror. It was definitely possible. But how? And when? Did this have something to do with his father?
"Maybe we somehow traded places," he thought wildly, "Maybe...a Time Turner? Or is this some bizarre, recessive wizarding gene or something? That your eyes change color?"
Harry's thought were interrupted as the door creaked open, and Luna Lovegood poked her head inside.
"Oh," she said dreamily, "I'm not the first one, after all."
Ginny and Harry exchanged a meaningul, worried glance as she floated in, Neville in tow. It would have to wait.
"This is nice," Luna said, stroking the fronds of Ginny's desk fern tenderly, "Is it poisonous?"
