Author's Notes: I thought of updating to celebrate this momentous day, the day when JKR announced the release of HBP. July 16, 2005, people! :-) I love J. K. Rowling.

Thank you, Alcarcalime and ReaderRavenclaw for the beta. I love you too! :-)

I Wished for You Once

Chapter Ten

Ginny was awakened by the sheets moving under her dead-tired arms. She lifted her head, feeling a tickling on her right cheek—she'd had a cut there just hours before—and saw Harry's eyes slowly fluttering open.

Harry stared at the ceiling, blinking, then looked around Percy's old bedroom before finally training his eyes on Ginny. He squinted, as though wondering what he was doing, lying on the bed in the unfamiliar room.

"Harry?" Ginny asked cautiously.

Harry blinked once more, staring at her with his mouth half open. Then Ginny saw the light of recollection slowly fill his eyes; they widened, and he immediately tried to raise himself up.

"Not yet, not yet," Ginny said, gently pushing his shoulder back down. She gave him his glasses, which Hermione had repaired earlier. He placed them on the bridge of his nose and stared back at her, blinking owlishly.

"How are you feeling?" Ginny asked.

Harry tried to sit up once again. "I'm—" Suddenly he yelped and sank back down on the pillow.

Ginny's heart sank. "Don't," she admonished. "You cracked a couple of ribs from that curse..."

Harry grimaced, clutching his side. "What happened?"

"Well… we got away." Ginny smiled grimly.

"No," said Harry. Ginny detected an edge of impatience in his voice. "What happened? Why were they there? What happened to everyone?"

Ginny closed her eyes briefly. She really did not want to relive anything, especially for Harry—but she knew he deserved nothing but the truth.

"Well, there were no casualties or anything. They told me there'd been a huge mob when everybody found out that Death Eaters were in Diagon Alley… but it wasn't as bad as, say, the one in the Quidditch World Cup… maybe because now they've been forewarned since the Ministry admitted You-Know-Who's alive." She gave him another grim smile. "After Lestrange hit you with some curse, Dad arrived and Stunned her. He gave me a Portkey… and here we are."

"And?" Harry pressed on, cocking his head.

"And… as soon as we got away… the Death Eaters left."

Harry knotted his forehead. "Why?"

"I've been itching to know all day too, Harry," she said truthfully.

Harry's frown deepened. "So they really weren't after the people, were they?"

"Apparently not," said Ginny quietly. She knew Harry deduced the same thing she was thinking: that Voldemort was after him again.

A long silence fell over them. Ginny kept her eyes on Harry even long after he looked away from her. He seemed to be struggling with something.

"Where's Ron and Hermione?" he finally asked in a thin voice.

"They're downstairs," Ginny answered, wondering where this was leading to.

Harry opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated, and clamped it shut again.

Ginny lifted her eyebrows slightly. A hunch formed in her mind—it looked as though he want to talk to Ron and Hermione about the incident, or perhaps about… something more important. But then, as though forming a conclusion, he shook his head in what looked like defeat—Ginny doubted that he himself noticed it—and exhaled loudly.

"Okay," he said simply.

Ginny bit her lip. "All right," she said. "Er—would you like a cup of tea? Anything?"

For the first time since he woke up, Harry smiled a little. "Sure."

Ginny smiled back, though halfheartedly. "Right. Be back in a minute."

She left Percy's room and went downstairs. Ron and Hermione were in the dining room, sitting side by side, talking in low voices. Earlier, the two of them had fought passionately against the members of the Order when they were told to stay put in the Burrow. Ron and Hermione had wanted to know what was happening; they had wanted to be involved. Of course, knowing what the Order was like towards those whom they thought were too "young", Ginny had known that the two's arguments would be of no avail. In fact, the Order sent a member—Mundungus Fletcher, of all people, Ginny thought wryly—to keep a lookout at the Burrow.

Ginny had held this information from Harry. She did not think it was important; besides, she did not want to fuel Harry's suspicions about Voldemort.

When Ginny entered the kitchen, Ron and Hermione looked up expectantly.

"He's awake," Ginny announced.

Hermione gave a loud sigh of relief. "Oh, thank God."

Ron, however, raised his eyebrows at her. "You don't look like it," he said.

Ginny did not have the energy to make a sarcastic retort. "Go see for yourself, then," she said as she took a pot of tea from the stove.

Ron and Hermione were about to stand up when they heard the front door open. Ginny expected Mundungus Fletcher to enter, but instead, Fred and George appeared in the doorway.

It seemed to Ginny that the twins had aged during the remainder of the day. They were bearing matching uncharacteristic scowls, and they both headed straight for the kitchen without a word. Ginny brought more cups to the dining room.

Ron tapped the table restlessly. "So," he began, "what's happened now?"

Fred tossed an Evening Prophet onto the table. Hermione dived for it, and Ron and Ginny went around to read the paper behind her.

Death Eaters apprehended in Diagon Alley, the title said. The three of them read silently.

Bellatrix Lestrange and Walden Macnair were apprehended early today during a raid in Diagon Alley. A commotion ensued inside Quality Quidditch Supplies, but quick action on the part of the Ministry prevented any major mishap from happening.

There were no casualties, and Ministry Aurors were able to calm the crowd. Diagon Alley shops are still open for business, although more Aurors are now patrolling the area.

Propaganda, Ginny thought. She shook her head in disbelief and looked up at Fred and George. "So much for conveying the truth through journalism, huh?" she said airily.

George chuckled darkly as he poured himself some tea. "They wouldn't know a raid from an abduction scheme if it stared at them in the face."

Fred promptly elbowed him hard, glaring. George, realizing what he had just said, immediately blanched.

"Abduction?" Hermione said, looking a bit pale herself. "Is that what it really was?"

George glowered at Ginny, who bit back a self-satisfied smile.

"I think we have a right to know, too," Ginny said simply. "Even if you don't tell us, we'll always have ways…"

George sniffed. "Look—I'm not—we can't tell you anything. You're too young."

Ron ignored him. "Then next time you go shopping with us, keep us in the dark again so we'll know what we're dealing with, right?"

Ron's mockery seemed to bite into the twins. Fred and George exchanged guilty glances. Ginny had rarely ever seen this before, and never in front of an angry Ron. She almost pitied the twins for it.

Fred looked from Ron, to Hermione, to Ginny, as though making up his mind.

"The Death Eaters didn't expect there'd be a commotion," Fred said. "They thought—whoever they'd kidnap—would go with them quietly."

"Everyone knowing they were in Diagon Alley wasn't part of their plan," George said.

Ginny rubbed her tingling cheek absently. So Harry had been their target today. But why?

"Why didn't the Order get wind of it beforehand?" asked Hermione.

"Very few Death Eaters knew about the plan—so the Order didn't," Fred answered.

"The Order's still arguing," George said grimly. "Blaming each other for not being vigilant. Neither the Ministry nor the Order anticipated it, you know."

"Actually," Fred added, "very early this morning they received intelligence of some strange activity by the Death Eaters. Members of the Order were alerted. Dad and Mum went." He rolled his eyes slightly. "He told us to babysit you four."

"Yeah," said George. "But they never did find out what the Death Eaters were up to till it was..."

"Almost too late," Fred finished for him.

Silence fell over them as they weighed the information. However, none of it answered what Ginny had been keen on knowing all day.

Ginny spoke up. "Why were they all in Diagon Alley without attacking anyone? Why were they after us?"

Fred looked at her, his eyes hollow. "They're not exactly after us," he said. Then he added, almost as an afterthought, "If what you mean by us is… well, us."

Ginny suddenly felt hot anger rise up to her face. She had anticipated this; she knew exactly what Fred meant, but actually hearing it confirmed by someone reliable—and realizing that it was, after all, the truth—was too much for her to bear. She stood up and scowled at her brother, her cheeks burning. "Stop saying it like Harry's not part of your so-called us, Fred—"

Fred raised both palms up. "Forgive the clash of semantics, dear sister—I didn't mean it that way—"

"Well, it sure sounded like it," Ginny spat. "You know whatever Harry goes through, we go through. He's not in this alone."

Fred and George exchanged curious, questioning glances after Ginny's outburst. Ginny knew they were wondering what had prompted their little sister to be so defensive of Harry. Ginny ignored them as she plunged on, "Don't ever say he's any different from us, because he's not, all right?"

"Ginny," George interrupted, drumming his fingers on the table uneasily, "no one ever said he is. You're overreacting."

Ginny huffed and sat back down. "But it is Harry they're after," she prompted.

"Yeah. Who else could it be?"

Ginny scowled again, but she could make no response.

Fred was staring at his cup of tea thoughtfully. "Most of the Order think so, anyway," he said.

Hermione suddenly looked up. "Why? What do others think?" she asked quickly.

Fred shrugged. "Lupin was wondering why it seemed like Lestrange had been waiting for Ginny in that alleyway."

Ginny's heart plummeted to her stomach. "Wha—me? What do I…?"

"What are you saying?" Ron asked, looking nervous.

"Could be that we're targeted because more than half of the family are members of the Order," George rationalized. He looked calm—much too calm—despite the information.

Hermione shook her head stubbornly. "That can't be—that's a pretty desperate move from V-Voldemort to cripple the Order, isn't it?"

"Yeah," Fred said. He turned to Ginny. "But imagine what would happen if you and Harry hadn't got away."

Ginny stared back at Fred, her stomach turning over, her cheek itching more than ever. Abducting a Weasley family member was a desperate move, yes, but it might work for the Death Eaters if they were aiming to divert the Order's attention from things that were more important.

Ginny shuddered inwardly. If her Dad had not rescued her and Harry, there was no knowing what the two of them would be going through by now. She would probably have been killed—she knew all too well the capabilities of the Death Eaters when it came to killing. And although she still could not fully comprehend what Voldemort wanted with Harry, Ginny knew that having both of them in his hands would be a powerful weapon for him.

Ginny's thoughts were chased away by the slamming of the front door. The five of them jumped.

"Everything all right, kids?" Mundungus Fletcher slurred, grinning at them as he peeked into the dining room.

Kids. They always called them that, though they had been witness to how she and Harry had saved themselves. They still called them kids even though they had been the ones who had messed up in predicting this particular incident. Ginny hated the Order all of a sudden.

"Yeah," said Ginny, smiling sweetly. "Everything's fine, Mr. Fletcher. Maybe you'd like a cup of warm tea?"

And smiling sardonically, she slammed the teapot on the table and, to the shocked stares of everyone, stomped upstairs.

Ginny paused right outside Percy's room. Only then did she realize that her hands were shaking—with anger or with anxiety, she could not distinguish. She took a deep breath, then exhaled loudly, as though blowing out the tension that had built in her nerves.

What will Harry think? she wondered. He would be devastated, no doubt; he might even start feeling guilty again. That was Harry just a couple of months ago.

Ginny heaved another sigh. She did not want that for Harry all over again.

In an impulse, she opened the door—and suddenly froze.

Harry was standing in the middle of the room, as though he had come in right before she had. His jaw was set; one arm was curled on his stomach as he clutched at his side where his ribs had been broken. The expression in his eyes told her everything. But what startled her was the sudden change in him—a change so deep that he seemed to have gone back to the Harry she had known before he saved her from falling off her broomstick…

"H—Harry," she stuttered shakily, "y-you're not supposed to be up yet—"

Harry's eyebrows snapped together. "Why not?" His tone was grave. "So I couldn't eavesdrop on your conversations?"

Ginny gripped the doorknob till her knuckles were white. "N—no…no, Harry—"

"I heard everything."

Ginny's heart sank—not so much as with Harry's admission as with the hurt, betrayed voice beneath his angry exterior.

"I was going to tell you anyway," she replied in a small voice.

"Yeah? Then how much of it were you going to tell me?"

"Everything." And Ginny meant it. How could she hold anything back now?

"Even that part where you said who else the Death Eaters could be after but me?"

But you already know that, Ginny mentally rejoined. But just as her mouth formed the words, her breath caught in her throat as another thought entered her head: Harry has always known.

"Maybe I should just go, huh?" Harry went on. "Leave you people alone so the Death Eaters won't go after you anymore—"

"And do you actually think we'd let you do that?" Ginny abruptly cut him short, her temper rising all of a sudden with Harry's last statement. She shut the door behind her and glared at him. "Are we that heartless to leave you alone?"

"You have no choice!" Harry bellowed. "While I'm with you, Voldemort will always be after you—"

"Didn't you hear?" Ginny shrieked, not letting him finish. She did not need—did not want to hear the rest. "My parents and four of my brothers are members of the Order. They could abduct me or my brothers to cripple it. It doesn't have anything to do with you!"

"IT DOES!" Harry shouted so loudly, so violently that Ginny jumped back. Behind his glasses, his eyes were wide and tinted with uncontrollable fury. "IT HAS EVERYTHING TO DO WITH ME! IT'S ABOUT VOLDEMORT, HE'S BEEN AFTER ME ALL THIS TIME, HE'LL ALWAYS BE AFTER YOU 'CAUSE HE HAS TO KILL ME—!"

Harry abruptly stopped; he clutched his side and screwed his face in pain, clenching his teeth. His breathing became ragged and forced. Ginny realized that Harry had been about to say something important, but had stopped himself when he got too close to blurting out the truth...

Her heart constricting painfully, Ginny rushed to his aid. "Harry—"

Harry turned his face from her. "No—don't come near—"

Ginny froze. Suddenly her patience reached its breaking point. "Why not?" she snapped. "Why won't you let me near you? Why don't you let anyone near you? Don't you understand? We just want to help you—"

Harry raised his eyes at her. "You can't help me, all right?"

"Fine!" Ginny retorted. "At least let us hear you out—you still have us, in case it still isn't clear to you! V-Voldemort isn't the only other person in your life—"

Harry barked a nasty, sardonic laugh. "Well, that's rich," he shot back, "coming from someone who won't tell anyone about Tom Riddle and who couldn't even fly because of him!"

Harry could have just slapped her hard on her cheek.

Ginny stared at Harry, her mouth slightly open, as though he had just stabbed her in the chest, leaving the painful wrenching sensation she was feeling right there. He didn't just say that. He didn't, she repeated in her head over and over again.

He stared back, looking shocked at his own outburst. The fury died in his eyes. His lips moved, as though he wanted to say something, to apologize. But not even an incoherent mumble came out.

The tears started to form in Ginny's eyes. "That's not true, Harry," she said jerkily. "You know that. It was that Bludger—it was Draco Malfoy—not that bastard Riddle—and you bloody well know that, dammit!"

Harry bit his lip. He made a motion to step towards Ginny, but she quickly stepped back.

Ginny swallowed and raised her head. He was not going to see her cry. "Just because he runs your life doesn't mean he runs others' too," she told him, trying to even out her voice, but failing. "And he doesn't ruin mine."

The first expression that flashed across Harry's face was one of disbelief; Ginny half expected him to make another cutting remark, proving her claim false. But instead, his expression gave way to one of self-inflicted pain—and of agonizing regret.

Ginny knew what was coming even before Harry spoke.

"He will," he murmured.

"Why?" Her words were almost incomprehensible.

"Macnair knows I'm going out with you."

Ginny did not move. She could not breathe. Yet she did not feel her heart shatter to minute pieces; on the contrary, she could still feel it against her ribcage. Hear it beating slowly. Coldly. Impersonally. As though it was not part of her anymore.

So? SO? she wanted to scream at his face. And yet, what if she said just that? What would it matter? She already knew his answer; she could readily hear him saying it in a grave murmur. Of course she knew—because she had done the same to keep Harry away from Tom Riddle.

Tom had used her to get Harry. She had succumbed to his every bidding; she had not been able to stop herself from fulfilling his desires. He had always left her feeling filthy, but Tom had always been back, turning her into a pawn to Harry's death…

"You told me you'd let me use yourself to get Harry Potter..."

"NO! You won't get him—I won't let you!"

Unable to resist Tom, she had therefore detached herself. She had kept away from Harry, if only to keep him away from Tom….

And now—a thick fog of silence. Harry staring at her, remorse in his eyes. Deep in her heart, she understood Harry's intentions—but a cold, logical part of her head prevailed, scorning him, scorning them both. He was so bloody stupid, thinking that a breakup was going to keep Voldemort away from her.

And they had been going out for only one day. Ginny almost laughed aloud at the sheer idiocy of it. Harry was so stupid, always thinking of himself as the hero, always thinking that he could save the world by making sacrifices of his own. So, so stupid.

"Well, that's great," Ginny declared, squaring her shoulders. Her voice came out smooth, unaffected. She sneered contemptuously. "Thank you for putting a Dark Lord before your lovely girlfriend on your list of priorities."

Harry's head jerked upwards in surprise, but in the blink of an eye, the expression vanished; he now looked at her with a coldness that matched hers. Again, a detached part of her was dumbfounded at the change. This isn't the person you just kissed last night, it whispered to her quietly.

Ginny turned around and strode towards the door. She opened it, got out without a second look at Harry, and slammed it shut.

Ron, Hermione, Fred and George were right outside; they jumped as Ginny shut the door. Ginny stared at them.

"Ginny—" Hermione began cautiously "—what's happened?"

Ginny blinked twice—and laughed derisively. The four of them had been right outside the door, listening to her and Harry. Had they pressed their ears on the door, one head on top of the other, trying to discern every word? She found the thought ludicrous and comical.

"Leave him alone," she said, strutting towards the staircase, still smiling cynically. "He really doesn't want anyone near him, in case Voldemort suddenly crashes in through Percy's window."

She was unfazed by the gazes of the four as she descended the steps until she reached the third landing. She automatically opened the door to her room and closed it quietly. Then she leaned her back on it.

Through her window, she could see the sky playing with pink and violet hues. Near the horizon, the sky was a darker shade of purple. The sun was probably setting now. When had she last seen the sun set? It had been a long time ago, it seemed. It had been… last autumn. There in the Owlery. She and Harry had sent Hedwig to her mum. She had been beside him, and glancing at him; she had been witness to the peacefulness on his face, on his smile, in his lovely, lovely eyes.

Harry could probably see the sunset now through Percy's window.

Harry.

Ginny let out a great, shuddering gasp and brought her hands to her mouth. Suddenly her smile was gone; tears of despair burst and spilled onto her cheeks without warning. Her knees buckled; she fell back on the door; her body racked with uncontrollable sobs. Not even her hands were able to muffle the wail of despair that escaped her lips.

And somewhere above her, Harry closed his eyes, leaning his forehead against the cool pane of the window, unable to look at the sun set while hearing Ginny cry.

Ginny kicked the door of the broom shed open. Early morning sunlight spilled onto the broomsticks that stood against a corner. Ron's Shooting Star was there, as well as Fred and George's old Cleansweep Sevens.

Ginny snatched one Cleansweep. I'll show him, she thought angrily. I'll show him I'm not that weak!

She dragged herself across the snow, towards the slope where she and Ron had bickered about Quidditch seven years ago. She did not remember it now. She had just one purpose in mind: to prove to Harry—and, deep inside her, to herself—that Tom Riddle did not affect her so much that she could not fly anymore.

She climbed on the broomstick and kicked off. The bitter winter air whipped across her hair and her robes—but she took no heed of the cold. She flew higher, accelerating. She was good. She was damn good. Hell, she was the best flyer in the whole damn world.

Ginny laughed aloud. Take that, Katie Bell, she thought. This is what you just threw off your ruddy team!

And all of a sudden—she felt the flash of pain at the back of her head.

Ginny swore. She gripped the broomstick tighter and flattened herself on the handle—but there it was again. She lost control of the broomstick for a second—and it suddenly made a dive.

"Dammit!" Ginny yelled, hastily pulling the broomstick up.

And then, a soothing voice whispered to her, as though the speaker was right beside her: "Get the feel of flying.... Enjoy it, like it's always been a good thing. Forget about feeling afraid you'd fall...."

How can I? HOW CAN I? Ginny yelled at the voice mentally. There's no wonderful thought up here, Harry, not when Voldemort's presence hangs over our heads all the time!

The voice did not respond. Ginny felt another wave of dizziness hit her. And now, she knew, she could not stay up in the air any longer.

Her erratic landing caused her to stumble on the snow. Cursing, she stood up and shook snow off her jumper. She grabbed the broomstick and trudged back to the broom shed, now feeling the cold seeping into her clothes.

She angrily threw the Cleansweep against one wall of the broom shed. It banged loudly against the wall, then fell onto the dust with a clatter. Ginny stared at it. When they left the Burrow later, the poor broomstick would have to stay there.

Ginny closed the door of the broom shed and locked it, fighting back tears.