Slow and Steady

Ginny stared out the window absently, chewing on the end of her quill. It was somewhat difficult to do her astronomy homework when a spring moon shone so brightly that the stars were invisible. She could go up to the Astronomy Tower and use one of the better telescopes, she supposed, but she couldn't quite summon up the will to leave her chair. She loved astronomy, she really did but…what with everything else that was going on in the world, it was hard to get worked up about star charts. And Ginny loved star charts.

A slight breeze, clean-scented, blew through the window, scattering her parchment on the floor, and pulling her from her reverie. Thankfully the inkpot hadn't blown over, but she blew her hair out of her eyes in irritation nonetheless. Nothing today had gone to plan, starting with the bad news in this mornings Prophet. It wasn't as if she was unused to horrendous news but, between the attack on Gringotts, her Defense Against the Dark Arts test and a particularly horrid Transfiguration class she had been in no good mood when she arrived at dinner.

Whereupon things had promptly got worse. Harry and Hermione had barely a word for her, being engrossed in some kind of argument of their own. Wisely, Ginny had decided not to interrupt them, as Harry and Hermione's arguments tended towards the cataclysmic, but to her extreme disgust Ron had been eating too much to say words of more than one syllable, and, most unwisely in her opinion, someone had shown Colin Creevey a brochure on Security Troll Training, and he had been babbling about employment opportunities all through dinner.

She didn't know how or why Colin picked up these fads, especially as he was so obviously destined for employment as a photographer of some sort, but she really didn't care. She wanted to go home, she wanted Bill.

Of course it was wrong to have a favourite brother, and it wasn't that she loved Bill more or anything ridiculous like that, but out of everyone in her family Bill had always been the one who listened. Looking back she understood why the rest of them had found her silly and boring, she really did – six-year-old girls don't generally have very interesting things to say – but there had been a reason why her childish heart had been completely devoted to Bill, and it wasn't because he had cool hair.

Every year when he came home from Hogwarts he wouldn't just tell her stories of his wonderful exploits like the rest of them, he would actually listen to her stories – even if they were only about the badger she'd seen in the garden, and why she didn't like the Ghoul. Maybe he had found her as dull as the others, but he had never shown it. Ginny sniffled a little theatrically – she missed her brothers. She missed Bill, and Fred and George, and Percy, and Charlie.

Charlie had made her want to fly. He didn't know it, but the summer after he had been made Seeker, she had crept up to the meadow to watch him fly. He moved like no one else she had ever seen – wonderful looping turns, and dives that made the air his, and Ginny had watched with eyes like saucers. He looked like a king.

It had come as something of a shock when he dived practically on top of her where she was hunkered in the grass. He had yelled at her, in what Ginny later realised was shock and fear at having nearly broken her neck. It was only when she broke down and said she'd been watching cause, he 'looked so cool', in the tone of adoration and admiration she had always reserved for Bill, that he calmed down. To this day, no Quidditch player, not even Harry, not even the Irish Chasers, compared to Charlie in her mind.

She missed them both savagely right now, and she could guess the reason why. Harry had her off balance, and there wasn't anyone she could talk to about it. Ron would practically have a heart attack, Neville would be broadly supportive but as confused as she was, and Ginny had always felt somewhat guilty about making Hermione listen to her side of the story as well as Harry's. There was, of course, Luna, but Luna's advice tended towards the cryptic, and as much as Ginny loved her, she just wasn't in the mood.

And none of her other friends knew Harry – not really. And there was no point in even talking about it if they didn't know Harry. Ginny knew with her logical mind, that Harry must feel the same way she did, but, and this was the point Hermione so often failed to grasp, logic didn't matter a damn in this situation.

He hadn't actually done anything. He just kept looking at her in that piercing way, as if he saw right inside her, even when she was inside out and backwards from confusion. And she was sick and tired of it – sick and tired of having to struggle to concentrate, struggle with even the simplest of conversations because all she could think about was him. She hated being so weak and unsure all the time – and over a boy! It was rather too pathetic and damsel in distress-ish for her taste.

All of this was running through her mind on this rather sweet Wednesday evening towards the end of April, when Harry refused to study the conjuring of food with Hermione yet again, dismissing it as pointless. She shouldn't have said it, she was completely out of line, but it spilled out before she could catch it.

"You've got some nerve."

He wheeled around and barked. "What!"

She knew he was fated to fight Voldemort, knew what it cost him, but, aside from her own frustrations, she was more than a little disturbed by his borderline obsessive preparation for that fight. It was time someone reminded him that there was more to his life than one more confrontation.

So she stood up and faced him. "You heard me."

His mouth hung open in surprise and she continued. "Do you know that conjuring food is one of the most complicated and exhausting spells you can learn? Do you?"

"It's not important Ginny – it doesn't matter when…"

She cut him off sharply, not interested in hearing the rest, and said, "I know, I know but that doesn't change the fact that in a couple of years you're going to be sitting in an empty flat, unable even to conjure a cup of tea. You'll spend your whole adult life unable to feed yourself, and let me tell you something – I'm not going to cook for you!"

Harry looked rather like a fish, his mouth opening and closing as he struggled to think of a response. After several seconds he sat down beside Hermione and opened his textbook. Ginny was sure she heard Ron mutter, "Nice one" under his breath.

She was more than ready to go to bed, so she yawned her way through a 'goodnight' and had turned to go up the stairs when Harry caught her hand and said, "Do you have to go?"

"Yeah. I'm really tired and…Desdemona misses me."

"Really?"

"She thinks you're monopolising my time." Ginny could have clapped a hand over her mouth, except Harry was holding it, and the other held her books. She must be sleep-deprived – that was the only excuse for the outrageous things she kept saying.

Harry grinned at her. "Well tell her I'm not sorry."

"I'll have to think about that you know."

"About what?"

"You monopolising my time."

Harry's face fell slightly, and Ginny cursed herself – she hadn't meant to sound quite so harsh. But then he gave her that look, that soul-twisting look, and squeezed her hand slightly, saying, "Well don't think too hard all right. You get some mad ideas about me."

Ginny stared at him – his meaning was completely clear, even to her. She started to back away from him, but Harry did not want to let go. She stared at him, and he stole a quick look at Hermione (arguing with Ron as usual) and said, "Look Ginny, you got…you've got to know that…"

Hermione opened her book with a snap, and Harry looked away. Ginny nearly swore out loud – why did this keep happening? Summoning up her courage she kissed him quickly on the cheek, and then hugged Ron in an attempt to cover her embarrassment, before going to be with even more to think about when it came to Harry Potter.