DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Ginny had walked as quickly as she could to the twins' shop. She needed to use the fireplace in their private office. It was one of the very few fireplaces that could take her back to Grimmauld Place. She had hoped to avoid Lee and any questions, but instead found him in the office wrapping some new creation. She wanted to leave before anyone could follow her, but decided she could spare a minute or two.
She made some excuse for leaving without the others, but then started questioning Lee on all the new things they'd been working on. It didn't take long until Lee told her what she needed and when he had his back turned she pocketed a pair of small sweets, said a quick goodbye and vanished into the fireplace.
She tried to talk to Harry many times that afternoon, but saw only blackness and her own face. She'd convinced Lupin to let her send Harry's supplies to him immediately, and had folded a quickly scribbled note around his new quills.
She felt horrible. She felt as sick as she ever had, and her seething anger was exhausting. After two hours of trying to talk to Harry, she fell into a fitful sleep filled with dreams of the soft voice of Tom Riddle as he forced her to lure Harry Potter to his death.
She awoke sometime later with a start. Hermione was leaning over her with a worried look on her face.
"No one's seen you since this afternoon," she explained. "And when I came to check on you, you were calling out in your sleep. Are you feeling alright?" Ginny stared into her eyes.
"Am I feeling alright? No, I'm not. I'll kill them. I swear I will. I'll strangle them with the robes they bought me."
"What are you talking about? You're sure you're not ill?"
"No, I'm not sick," Ginny responded weakly. She sat up, and saw the Mirror sitting beside her in bed. Her hair was messy, her face was pallid and her eyes were bloodshot. She stood up and searched for a brush.
Hermione tried talking to her as she brushed her hair over and over again. Ginny wasn't in the mood to really join in any conversations, and she kept most of her responses to only a few words.
"Does this have anything to do with what happened at Diagon Alley?" Hermione recoiled at the sudden expression on Ginny's face. "Fine, I won't make you talk about it." Ginny went back to brushing her hair and Hermione sat quietly and waited patiently for her to finish.
There was a knock at the door, and Hermione immediately walked over to open it, possibly hoping for some excuse to leave Ginny. It was Bill, and he had Ginny's new broom. She gave him a gracious smile and thanked him for the broom. He tried to deny it, but Ginny simply stared at him until he admitted that it had been him.
"Just don't tell Fleur, alright?" he asked her. "She doesn't really see the point of Quidditch." Ginny agreed and sat limply on her bed.
Bill gave her a concerned look. "You don't look so good, Ginny. Come down and eat some food. The twins are here, so it'll be—" Bill paused to look at Hermione who was vigorously shaking her head at him "—What?"
"Fred and George? They're are here, are they?" Ginny had come alive suddenly. A bright, peaceful smile spread across her face, but her eyes had a wild, mischievous look. "Sounds brilliant. I'll even help with the food."
Ginny walked quickly to the kitchen and began helping Molly with more energy and than she'd had in weeks. "I thought you said she looked ill," Molly had said to Hermione as Ginny handed out Butterbeers to everyone at the table. When all the mugs had been placed, she purposefully took her seat across from the twins, who seemed a bit worried about her cheery mood. They were correct to be concerned. Shortly into the meal, Fred gave his mug a funny look.
"Er... Its got an odd flavor, this butterbeer... Almost like—"
"—Watermelon? Not bad, really, but—"
Ginny made a show of trying the mug in front of her. "Hmm. Mine tastes normal," she said serenely. "I wonder what would make them taste like watermelon?" She went back to searching out a bit of potato in her stew and eating it peacefully, but the twins turned to look at each other, and then their drinks.
They tried to call out. Ginny couldn't make out what they said, no one could. She didn't even look up. She continued to eat her stew as the twins jumped out of their seats, causing a pair of Aurors to rush and see what had happened. A number of other wizards stood up to try and help. Some, like Hermione, were frozen in shock. Some, like Molly, were upset and wanted to know what was going on. Many, like Ron, simply laughed at the twins who'd finally had the tables turned on them, but only Ginny remained seated at the table, eating as if nothing were happening and smiling as if the stew was the most glorious food she'd ever tasted.
Her smile faded eventually, and she'd adopted a passive, somber expression while Molly scolded her and ordered her to clean her room and the new room they'd found in the attic. Ginny knew she probably wouldn't have been punished if her Mum had known the whole story, but no one told her, and even those who had already heard of what happened at Diagon Alley refused to share the story while Ginny was in the room.
Harry wasn't much better. He'd felt like a fool when he remembered that Ginny had been going out with Dean at the end of last term. What had he been thinking? She'd had a crush on him when she was younger, but people change.
He'd felt somewhat encouraged by the news that Ginny didn't seem all that excited about going out with Dean, but his spirits fell immediately upon hearing that she'd been sending someone owls regularly. They'd stopped doing that as soon as Lupin had given them the Mirrors, and it would explain why Ginny usually waited until quite late to talk to him.
Looking back on his holiday, he realized how silly he'd been. She really was just repaying a debt, much like Snape had when he'd saved Harry his first year. Harry tried not to be angry with her. He felt guilty about having her disobey the Order all that time, but didn't ever stop her.
She'd sent a note with his supplies. She was apologizing, but Harry didn't want to read it so he burnt it without reading much more than the first few sentences.. She'd tried to contact him with her Mirror constantly the first day. The next day it had been less often, but he'd still grown weary of seeing the mirror flash on his desk. The next morning when he woke to the soft flash of light from the mirror, he'd taken the Mirror and packed it in his trunk.
The mermaid postcard still sat next to his bed, but he'd turned it over so he didn't have to see it waving and smiling at him. He hadn't yet gathered the desire to destroy it. He wasn't angry with Ginny. He really wasn't. He was disappointed. It really had been much like Cho. As soon as he got the nerve to ask her, he'd found out he'd lost his chance. It was his fault, really, but he didn't want to talk to Ginny about it.
The only person he wanted to talk to was Hermione. She seemed to know more about these situations. He'd considered sending her a note but Hedwig had left the day before, after having enough of Harry's attitude. Even the Dursleys had left him alone. Perhaps they felt that there was nothing to do now that he was properly dispirited about his life.
The three days had taken their toll on Ginny as well. She hadn't smiled since the night she'd put the Shut-Up Sherbets in the twins' butterbeers. On the third day, she began to feel more like herself, and quickly decided that she'd had enough.
Ginny decided that she really wanted to speak with Harry and was ready for more drastic action. She gathered all of her Gryffindor courage and knocked on Hermione's door. When Hermione let her in, she saw what she was hoping for: Icarus. Remus Lupin's owl was perched near the desk where Hermione had been writing on some parchment.
"Who are you writing to?" Ginny asked.
"My parents." Hermione replied, "I try to send them something every few days. They worry about me." Hermione sat down at the desk but just looked at Ginny.
Ginny looked at her feet. "I have a favor to ask you."
"I see," Hermione answered, though she looked more confused than she did before. "What kind of favor?"
"I need to send a note."
The corners of Hermione's mouth twitched. "Moody keeps a spare owl around all the time."
Fear tugged at Ginny's face. "Yes, well, I don't really want to bother him with something trivial like this."
Hermione sat back in her chair. "Well, I'm not sending this until sometime tomorrow." Ginny slumped a bit, but tried to hide her disappointment as she slipped a piece of parchment back into her pocket.
"That's fine," Ginny mumbled. "There's no rush, I guess."
"You're a dreadful liar when you're under stress," Hermione said with a stern glance. "I am sending this tonight." Ginny looked offended, but her eyes opened a little showing something like hope. Hermione relaxed a little.
"So why don't you want Moody to see it?"
"No reason. I mean— It's just a note. It's really short and it's not like I'm revealing our location."
"Who is it to?"
"Oh, I figured I'd just tell Icarus who it's for." she said nervously. "You know, so you don't have to worry about it."
"Of course," Hermione nodded skeptically. "Does this have anything to do with what happened at Diagon Alley?" Ginny forced herself not to scowl. Why couldn't Hermione just do it without interrogating her?
Ginny held the note out. "Will you send it?" Her eyes were pleading with Hermione to stop asking questions.
Hermione just stared back into Ginny's eyes. "What's going on Ginny?"
"Ron wouldn't ask me all these questions," she complained, getting more and more frustrated.
"Yes, well I wouldn't be amazed if Ron was hit by a falling tree and didn't ask any questions. He really is quite ignorant when it comes to understanding women, isn't he?"
"What does that have to do with this?"
"You haven't smiled in the three days since we came back from Diagon Alley, but it's not about Dean. There's something else. Now you're trying to sneak a note past Mad-Eye. He wouldn't care unless—"
"Please Hermione," Ginny pleaded. "Please don't make me talk about this now."
"It's a note to Harry?"
Ginny didn't say anything, but her hands stopped moving and gripped the note instead.
"We'd have heard from the Aurors if he was in any danger." Hermione stood up and started pacing. It had been a while since she had tried to solve a problem like this, and she was enjoying it. "But you're worried, so maybe you haven't heard from him. But you don't get owls from him. At least, not anymore," she said with a hint of sympathy. "Hedwig only uses the parlor window now and she never has letters for you."
Ginny held up the note again. "Please let me send it. I don't want to go to Ron about this, but I will, if that's the only way." Her face looked desperate, but Hermione ignored it, and continued on.
"Yet somehow he knew to have the twins buy robes for you. He must have even told Fred and George which ones you wanted," she said triumphantly. "And you knew he needed quills. So it was more than just an owl—" Her mouth dropped and her eyes opened wide. "Was Harry at Diagon Alley with his cloak?"
"No."
"And you haven't heard from him since then?"
Ginny didn't say anything, but she looked suddenly sad and ashamed. It was only a matter of time. Hermione was putting it all together. She'd been stupid to think she could hide this for two months.
"You think he's upset about whatever happened at Diagon Alley, but he wasn't there..." she said thoughtfully as she paused in her walking. "If anyone should be upset it would be Dean, or perhaps Fred and George, or whoever you dumped Dean for, whenever he finds out." She walked to Icarus, who hooted at her.
"Wait— You said it yourself," Hermione said as her eyes opened wide, "There wasn't anyone else. There was only Dean, Harry—" she flopped down on her bed, looking more worried, "—and this mystery boy." Ginny was silent, and looked away from Hermione's shocked glare. "It's Harry. You dumped Dean because of Harry?"
Ginny looked up again, "I— No..." Ginny stuttered as she rubbed her forehead. "I didn't dump him. We weren't going out. We went to the Library together twice!"
Hermione smiled lightly. "I see. That crush on Harry came back, did it?"
"No," Ginny said as if she were trying to force both of them to believe it, then added in a soft voice, "it's different this time."
"Oh," Hermione's amused smile turned into a sympathetic one. "So you think Harry's upset because he wouldn't want anyone to know about the two of you?"
Ginny had given up. She might as well tell Hermione everything. Harry wasn't talking to her anyway. Hermione couldn't do any more damage. With glassy eyes she turned back to Hermione.
"There is no relationship. I don't think there ever will be, now."
Hermione walked to Ginny and sat her down on the bed. "You just have to talk to him before he finds out about Dean. It's not like he hears much gossip. If you tell him first—"
"He already knows."
Hermione was surprised. "How? Did you tell him? Is that why he isn't responding?" Ginny just shook her head. "Well how much could he know, then?"
"Everything, I'd say." Ginny said with finality. Her head dropped and she covered her face with her hands. "I think he heard it all. Right up to the point when the twins announced how I was just using him until I could start dating the boy I'd been lying about and hiding from him."
Hermione winced at the realization of what they twins had said, but seemed to be even more confused.
"So he was there?" Ginny shook her head weakly. "Then, what? He— He heard everything, but he wasn't there... He was watching —or listening— from somewhere else..." Hermione jumped off the bed and stared at Ginny.
"That mirror! You kept taking it out, and the twins had it when—"
"Those stupid prats just wouldn't shut up and give it back to me!"
"And now Harry's upset with you?"
"He won't talk to me," Ginny said as she flopped back on the bed. "I think— well, I'm pretty sure he believes Fred and George —which he should know not to—" she added angrily, "and he's probably jealous now."
"He's jealous?"
Ginny winced. "Maybe. He was really jealous of Cedric when Cho turned him down for the last Ball."
"How do you—"
"He told me. He told me lots of things you may not have heard. He said he'd wished he could have talked with Cho like we talked."
"Does that mean—"
"I don't know! He won't talk to me."
Hermione gave a quick smile and then pulled Ginny off the bed. She moved quickly now, and with purpose.
"Well, let's get this note off to him. It should be short, and we don't want anyone else to understand it."
"Thanks," Ginny said with a smile.
Harry had given up on reading for the night, and had instead been trying out some of the charms he'd been reading about. He'd failed completely with some of them, but found that he was picking the others up faster than he'd thought he would. If Uncle Vernon had known was he was doing, Harry was sure he'd be back under the stairs within minutes.
There wasn't anything really unnatural in his room, and he was careful not to try new charms on things he couldn't replace. His bag was now waterproof for the next few weeks. Harry didn't have any water to use to test that, but it hadn't started on fire or turned to jelly, so he assumed all had gone well.
He'd found a number of new Parchment Blanking charms, and had spent nearly an hour on a set of Mapping charms he was convinced were used to create the Marauder's Map. He had tried to create a simple map of his room, but it was drawn very poorly and instead of seeing a dot where he sat, there was a large jumble of dots in the corner, and various other dots scattered about the misshapen room. He'd given up when he realized that the dots were marking the locations of all his socks. It might make a good Christmas present for Dobby, but he wasn't terribly concerned about lost socks tonight.
He sat silently on his bed. He wanted to sleep, but he just wasn't tired. He wanted the day to end. He looked at his alarm clock. It wasn't terribly large, and the ease with which he'd picked up the charms had him curious. He had avoided practicing any form of wandless magic, but he knew his current mood would make it easier. After a little concentrating, he succeeded in tipping his clock over, sending it crashing to the floor. On a whim, he reached out his hand, and the postcard leapt from the small stand into his fingers. His mood soured as he looked at it. Ginny must have been quite embarrassed by the one he sent to Lupin.
Just then, Hedwig hooted and Harry turned just in time to see an owl wheeling outside, waiting to deliver a note. It was Icarus. Harry opened the window and Icarus perched calmly on his shoulder as Harry untied a small letter from the leg it held out for him. The other leg held another, much larger letter. As soon as he was finished, the owl left without a sound.
It was a note from Hermione. Folded into it was a small scrap of parchment. He read the note first.
You're doing a fine impression of Ron, but we much prefer you acting like yourself. You're only making things worse.
Love, Hermione
What was she on about? He wasn't in the mood for riddles tonight, so he tossed it aside and took a closer look at the scrap. It was small, and had been crumpled, but smoothed out. Its message was short and simple.
Look at me
It was unsigned, but Harry recognized the writing. Ginny had wrote it. The ink was smudged as if she'd been carrying it for some time.
Fine. Maybe Hermione was right. He could at least talk to her. She had been a good friend. He fetched the mirror out of his trunk and sat on the bed looking at it for some time before he finally decided it was time.
"Ginny Weasley."
The mirror went dark then slowly cleared, and for a moment he wasn't sure if he was hoping to see Ginny's face, or his own. It was Ginny's face in the mirror, but as soon as Harry saw it, he wished that it had been his own. He felt instantly ashamed. Ginny looked awful. Her face was pale, her eyes bloodshot and her hair hung in a tangled mess around her face.
"Hello, Harry," she said shyly.
"Ginny... What's wrong? You look horrible."
Ginny smiled wanly. "Thanks, I missed talking to you, too." Harry felt even worse than he had before. He got the sudden feeling that Hermione was right, as she always was. Harry had made things worse than they should have been.
"I'm sorry... I... What did you want?" Harry asked.
Ginny's eyes stared into his. "I wanted to talk with you. I've wanted to talk to you for the last three days."
"Oh," said Harry, "I didn't think— I didn't know that." Ginny's eyebrows raised and the smallest hint of anger glinted in her eyes.
"You didn't know? You mean you haven't noticed your Mirror flashing every hour? You didn't see me trying to talk to you that afternoon?" Harry didn't respond.
"Okay, so I did. Maybe I just wanted to let you spend more time talking with your new boyfriend."
"And what is it that makes you think I have a new boyfriend?" Ginny asked with a strained voice. Harry realized she wasn't asking him so much as prompting him, and he responded warily, "I heard it all Ginny."
"You heard it from Fred and George, you daft git! Merlin's beard, Harry! They told Ron and me that we'd have to face a troll before we got sorted."
She had a point. They weren't always the best source of reliable information. But then, she hadn't corrected them either.
"So, you didn't dump Dean for another bloke?"
"No, I—" Ginny gave a frustrated sigh. "Fine. Yes, I suppose I did."
"So what part of what they said was wrong?"
"I haven't been sending owls to anyone, Harry. Moody watches me like a hawk whenever an owl is nearby and his eye twitches whenever I so much as look at a quill. It took hours before I found a way I could get that scrap of parchment to you."
"So... Wait—" Harry said. His mind was swimming. "So... who...?"
Ginny was silent for a moment. Her eyes peered out of the mirror at him. "Harry, why did all the mermaids look like me?"
"I— It's nothing. I was being stupid. It's not important." Why did she have to keep asking that now. It was stupid, wasn't it? He'd been so sure until now.
"It is important, Harry. Please?" she begged. Harry tried to dodge the question, but Ginny became stubborn and refused to move on. He tried to make an excuse, but she saw through it. "Don't lie to me, Harry Potter. Why did they look like me?"
"Because I like you!" he practically shouted, finally giving up. "I think about you all the time, and I thought the robes would make you happy, okay?" He'd expected Ginny to laugh at him, or give him a patronizing smile, or even the same Sorry-Cedric-already-asked-me smile Cho had given him. Instead she let out a small sob. Oh no, he thought, this really is too much like Cho. But Cho had looked sad. Ginny looked... relieved?
"You stupid prat! How could you believe them? How could they have any idea what I was doing in my room every night. They guessed that I was talking to someone, but it couldn't be Harry Potter. All your owls are stopped by Moody or Lupin." Harry felt cold and warm at once. Why didn't he see this earlier. He knew it before Ginny even said it, "I dumped Dean because of you."
Harry felt horrible, but that couldn't stop the happiness. He was ecstatic. Neither of them knew quite what to say, so they both tried to apologize for all sorts of things that they didn't have control over. Eventually, Harry settled into a comfortable happiness. He was talking to Ginny again.
"Did Fred and George apologize to you?" he asked eventually. Ginny let out a clear laugh. Her eyes weren't so red as before, and Harry wondered if Madam Pomfrey had any potion that could have worked as quickly.
"They didn't talk to me for a while, but I know they're sorry."
Harry heard a muffled voice from the mirror, "They couldn't talk to you. They didn't have mouths,"
"Yes, well I say they got a taste of their own medicine," Ginny responded. Harry's heart stopped. Someone was with Ginny. "Who was that?" he asked in a clearly panicked voice.
"Oh, it's just Hermione," she replied, as if it obvious. It took a little time to convince Harry that Hermione wasn't going to report everything he heard to Moody. And it took Harry a while longer to get comfortable with the thought of Hermione knowing everything he'd said.
When he had, Ginny told him the whole story including the part where they were forced to wait for Lee Jordan to finish making the antidote to their experimental sherbets. It seemed so much sillier now, and he was laughing for the first time in three days.
There was so much he wanted to talk to her about, but the sudden release of all that tension had exhausted him. He apologized and said that he really needed to sleep. Ginny felt the same way. Three days without more than an hours sleep at a time had taken quite a toll on her.
He dressed for bed, and reached for the clock which zoomed off the floor and into his hand. He turned off the alarm and set it back on the stand before getting into bed.
He closed his eyes, but he still saw Ginny's face. It was comforting to him. He remembered the post card, and how much the mermaid looked like Ginny. He couldn't imagine a better use for Gillyweed. He imagined himself swimming off with her underwater, alone and secluded from the world where everyone knew him. She would swim ahead then turn and wait for him, smiling and waving as always. She swam ahead, and down a slope into deeper waters.
The water was darker than it had been in the postcard, and when she turned to smile and wave, he saw that her hair wasn't red, but a sleek, shiny black. Her beautiful face was marred by a menacing smile. It was a face burned into Harry's memory.
"Come along now, little baby Potter. Don't be fwightened..."
She swam off leaving Harry alone in the darkness, stuck in a giant swirly haze which forced him to follow.