Anywhere but in Between
I only own the plot.
A special thanks to the reviewers again. I smile every time I check my mail and see your wonderful words of encouragement and appreciation.
Never fear, wackyone: more Ginny POV to come
Thank you Kat Solo: that was the nicest compliment and I'll try to live up to it with the rest of the story
Thank you to the newcomers to the story and those of you who have been with it since the beginning. You make my day, every day!
Please keep reading and reviewing, and more than that, enjoy
Side note: The first part of this chapter came to me while I was driving to work listening to an Eva Cassidy CD. If you don't know who she is, see if you can check out some of her stuff as soon as you can. She was a folk-blues singer about twenty something years ago that died at 35. She has brilliant remakes of songs like Fields of Gold, Somewhere Over the Rainbow, and sings Songbird (which was in the movie Love, Actually) with the most hauntingly beautiful voice I've heard.
Chapter 10 – A Shoulder To Lean On
Classes kept Ron busy for so much of the summer that it was the beginning of October before he knew it. He was more tired than he'd ever been in his life, but it was an oddly rewarding feeling. He went straight from work to his Profiling classes, and then straight home, to sleep and start everything all over again in the morning.
He hadn't seen much of anyone recently, even his parents, which is why he decided to pay a visit to his father after lunch.
"Your mother is driving me crazy with all of the wedding stuff," his father said wearily, after they'd chatted for a while. "Every day there's something else we've forgotten, something else we have to prepare." Ron laughed as his father continued. "I don't think we even put half as much thought into our own wedding."
"Is there anything you need me to do?" Ron asked, feeling a bit guilty for not being around as much anymore. He'd tried to stay as involved as possible in the preparations, but with work and school, he barely had time to sit down and have dinner every day. He saw the relieved look come across his father's face, and suddenly, he regretted his decision. He could just picture himself standing in a shop picking out dress robes or flowers or something along those lines.
"Actually, yes there is," his father said, reaching into his desk and pulling out several envelopes. "Could you see these sent off? They're thank you notes for the engagement gifts. Fleur didn't have time to owl post them, so your mother offered to do it. Then she ordered me to do it."
Ron laughed again and accepted the letters from his father. "Sure, I'll send Pig off with them when I get home," he said.
"Thanks, son," his father sighed gratefully.
"No problem."
"So, how are your classes going? We don't get much chance to see you any more, you're always running here or there," his father asked, smiling at him with pride. "You'll be done some time after New Year's, right?"
"Yeah, about then," Ron replied. "So far, classes are great. This stuff is so fascinating, and I think I'm actually good at it."
"Of course you are," his father said proudly, "you have a fascinating mind, like your father."
When Ron stopped at home after work before getting ready for class, he flipped through the letters to see how long Pig would be away. His eyes fell on Hermione's name, and he realized with a pang just how long it had been since he'd seen her.
For the last few months, she'd been working long hours and continuing to date Terry. That didn't leave much time for him, which he had come to accept, although it had taken a while.
He suddenly wanted to see her very much. He wanted to talk to her about his classes because he knew that she would fully appreciate how exciting he found them to be.
He also wanted to know how things were going with Terry.
They didn't really talk about Terry that much when they were together. It was almost as if they had an unspoken agreement that she could date him, as long as she didn't mention details about their dates or ask questions about relationship-type things.
Ron grimaced, placing her letter on the top of the others. He didn't really like the fact that Terry was taking away all of her free time. From what he could gather she was happy, and although Ron was glad that she was, it was still hard to accept that she didn't need him anymore to be as happy as she was.
He pulled the letter off the top of the stack, holding it again in his hand. He studied the letters of her name for a long moment, before taking the other letters, tying them up in a string and attaching it to Pig's leg.
The letter addressed to Hermione, he stuck in his pocket before putting on his jacket.
It was high time he paid his best friend a visit.
The first thing he was struck with when she answered the door was how exhausted she looked. The second thing was the overwhelming sadness in her eyes.
"Hermione?" he questioned, taking a step toward her in concern.
She stepped away from him. "Ron, what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice strained and full of the same sadness he saw in her eyes.
"I was going to send Bill and Fleur's thank you note along with everyone else's, but I realized I hadn't seen you in weeks. Are you okay?" he asked immediately, still standing in the doorway.
Hermione looked as if she was trying to nod, but her face fell and she backed away from the door. "No," she said quietly.
All of a sudden, Ron's blood boiled in his veins. If Terry had hurt her –
"What did he do?" Ron ground out through clenched teeth.
She appeared confused for a moment, then she shook her head. Even the slight motion looked as if it were costing her too much energy to accomplish.
"It's not about Terry," she explained in a low voice. "Although he wasn't exactly supportive earlier."
"Hermione, what's going on?" Ron asked, feeling at a complete loss. He hated seeing her like this, and it was killing him not knowing why she looked as sad as she did.
She sighed heavily and made her way to the sofa in the living room. She sank down onto the cushions and rested her head in her hands. Ron closed the door behind him and followed her to the sofa. He sat next to her, and waited patiently for her to tell him what had happened. He didn't think it had to do with her parents, because she wouldn't still be here in her flat. His guess was that something had happened at work.
After a while she raised her head off her hands, although she didn't look at him. She was staring straight ahead of her blankly, a multitude of unreadable expressions crossing her face.
"I lost a patient today," she said finally, her tone flat and lifeless.
Ron sat completely still, not knowing what to say. His gut twisted painfully at the lost look on her face, and he reached out to touch her shoulder. Before his hand could come to rest on it, however, she shifted away from him on the sofa.
"I'm so sorry," he said, trying not to take the physical distance she'd put between them personally. "When did it happen?"
"Early this morning, around 4 a.m. –"she trailed off, her voice sounding fragile. She blinked rapidly and straightened her shoulders. "She had gotten hit with the Demoxifolia Spell, and the poison spread to her blood stream last night. We worked on her for twelve hours, but in the end, it didn't make any difference." Her face suddenly took on a hollow look. "I had to tell a mother that her daughter was dead, Ron. She died because I couldn't do anything to save her."
"Don't do that to yourself," Ron said. "I'm sure you did everything in your power to try and help her."
Hermione finally turned to face him. He was taken aback yet again by the stormy look on her face. "I'm a healer. I'm supposed to heal people. I failed her, and now a family is torn apart all because I couldn't do anything."
Ron felt as if a lead ball had settled in his stomach. He couldn't stand to see her beat herself up like this. "Hermione – "he began, reaching out for her shoulder again.
"Stop!" she screamed suddenly, bringing her own hand up and shoving his away. "There's nothing you could say to make me feel better about this, so why bother? She died, and I just need to deal with it in my own way. So you can stop with the pitying looks and the concerned tone," she snapped, her eyes looking oddly bright.
Ron simply sat there, regarding her closely. He couldn't guess how hard this was for her, but if he knew anything, it was how his best friend operated. She was trying to pick a fight with him to make herself feel better, and if it would, then Ron would gladly take the verbal beating until she felt the need to stop.
"Okay," he replied, leaning back against the sofa.
They sat in silence for a long moment, still a few feet apart from each other. Hermione's arms were folded over her chest as if she were trying to hold herself together, and her gaze was now fixed on the fireplace.
"She was only five years old. What kind of monster could put a five year old in danger like that?" Hermione said finally, her voice shaking slightly. "Who could harm a little girl, Ron?"
Ron didn't have an answer, but he knew she wasn't really expecting one. "She was so scared when they brought her in. There were so many people rushing around her, and her eyes just followed everyone around the room. I sat with her all last night, and when we realized there was nothing else we could do, I watched her slip away right before my eyes," she said resignedly.
Ron's chest constricted at the sound of utter desolation in her voice. He wanted to make it all better, to be able to say something and make all that pain go away. But he couldn't. He knew he couldn't, because there hadn't been anything said that had made his pain magically go away after Percy's funeral. He remembered, though, that talking about it with Hermione had helped slightly, and he figured he owed her that much in return.
"What was her name?" he asked.
She was silent for a moment and her shoulders straightened again. "Eleanor," she said quietly.
"That's a pretty grown up name for a little girl," he said.
Hermione finally turned to face him. "That's what I said to her when they first brought her in. That was when she told me, in no uncertain terms, that five was not little," she said, a small smile of remembrance on her lips.
"She was so pretty, Ron. She had this beautiful long brown hair and the biggest brown eyes I've ever seen – "her voice failed her and she stopped talking. Ron saw the tears welling up in her hauntingly sad eyes and moved toward her again.
"I told you, stop it," she said fiercely, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from falling. "I'm going to have to learn how to deal with this kind of thing if I'm going to do this for the rest of my life. What kind of healer would I be if I broke down like a weak little baby every time I lose a patient?" she demanded.
Ron just sat there, watching as the emotions flew rapidly over her face and darkened her eyes.
Then, in the next instant, her shoulders crumbled and she slid closer to him. He wrapped his arms around her tightly just as a strangled sob escaped her throat and she finally let the tears fall. He kept his arms securely around her as she cried uncontrollably into his chest. Her arms tightened around his waist, and he tried to hold her as close to him as he could.
He stayed well into the night, offering her tissues and listening when she began to speak about the little girl again. Somewhere around midnight, she fell asleep against his shoulder, her hand intertwined with his. He gently removed his fingers from hers, guided her down onto the pillows of the sofa, and covered her with a blanket.
He allowed himself a moment to watch her sleep. She looked small and vulnerable lying curled up protectively on her side, and his chest constricted again. This time, however, it wasn't out of sympathy or pity.
He recognized this feeling all too well, and decided that it was time he got himself home. He scribbled her a short note telling her to reach him if she needed anything, and that he'd stop by after his class later that day.
When he got home he went straight to bed, but sleep was long in coming. His thoughts were back with his best friend, and he when he finally fell into a fitful sleep, he was thinking of her still.
The walk to the Quidditch supply store where Harry worked was longer than Ginny expected, but she was glad for it. She was still trying to recover some kind of hold on her emotions, and the brisk fall air was helping slightly.
When she finally reached the store, she took a deep, calming breath and pushed the door open. She spotted Harry immediately, helping a young teenager choose a pair of rain-resistant goggles just beyond the counter.
"Can I help you, miss?" a voice asked from behind her.
Ginny turned. An older man with graying hair was smiling warmly at her.
"No, thank you. I'm just here to see a friend," she said politely, pointing over to where Harry was standing with his customer.
"Okay," he replied good-naturedly. Then, suddenly, a knowing smile lit up his face. "You wouldn't happen to be Ginny, would you?"
Ginny was taken aback. "Yes, I am," she said in surprise. "How did you know that?"
The man continued to grin openly at her. "From everything Harry has said about you, I would be a daft fool not to know it was you."
A flush crept into her cheeks, but she pushed aside the silly thoughts immediately. Harry had probably described her to his co-worker, and since there weren't many Bulgarians with bright red hair running about, she figured it was strictly a matter of process of elimination.
Harry had finished with his customer, and the older man called out to him. "Harry, your young lady is here to see you."
Harry looked up quizzically, then realization dawned on his face just as his eyes focused on her. From where she was standing she could see the crimson color staining his own cheeks.
He made his way over, giving his co-worker a reproachful glance. "I see you've met Tom," he said dryly as he approached her. "Tom, this is –"
"Ginny, yes, I know," he interrupted jovially. "Who else could it be? Although, I must say, she's even more lovely than you made her out to be."
Ginny smiled slightly at the horrified look on Harry's face, but decided to take pity on him. "Tom, would you mind if I spoke to Harry for a moment?" she asked.
Tom grinned happily, shaking his head. "Not in the least pretty lady. It was good to meet you. I was wondering when I'd get to meet the reason this one's not moping about all the time any more."
Ginny saw Harry close his eyes in embarrassment as Tom walked away, whistling to himself.
She let herself enjoy the look on Harry's face for only a moment before getting to the reason she'd stopped by.
"Harry, I just wanted to come by and let you know I can't go to lunch today. I have to take care of a few things before my classes." she said, trying to keep her emotions in check. The last thing she wanted to do was lose it again, this time in front of Harry and a handful of customers and employees she'd never met.
He must have noticed something in her tone, because his brow furrowed, and he eyed her with concern. "Is everything okay?" he asked.
She averted her eyes from his. "I have to go shopping for a new owl. Hermes passed away last night."
She kept her eyes trained to the floor, and Harry didn't respond right away. Then, she felt a hand on her arm, and her eyes came up to meet his.
"Do you mind if I tag along?" he asked.
She nodded slightly, using every bit of restraint she had to not throw herself into his arms. He understood how hard this was, and she found it comforting that she didn't have to explain herself to him. He just simply got it.
"Hey, Tom," Harry called, getting the older man's attention. "I'm going to step out for a bit, but I'll be back in an hour or so."
"No problem," Tom called back, the mischievous grin still on his face. "You and your gal have a good time."
Harry shook his head at Ginny, who would have laughed on any other day. Now, however, it was enough to be guided gently out of the store and down the narrow street of shops.
There was something so comforting about his presence at her side, and Ginny felt safer knowing that if she did break down and cry, for the fifth time today, she wouldn't have to be ashamed. Harry knew that Hermes had been Percy's owl, and she guessed that he also knew that losing Hermes had been like losing a piece of Percy all over again.
The thought made her eyes well up with tears, but she struggled to keep them in. Just because she knew he'd understand didn't mean she wanted to get all weepy on him in the middle of a crowded street.
Harry didn't say anything as they walked, and she was grateful. She didn't know if she could hold a conversation now anyway. Too much of her focus was going into holding herself together.
When they got to the pet store, Harry held the door for her and guided her in with the palm of his hand on the small of her back. The gesture made her pulse quicken, but she shoved the thoughts to the back of her mind.
It wasn't the first time she'd had to do it since spending so much time with him over the past few months, but she was getting pretty good at it. She didn't want to have to deal with all of those old, complicated feelings all over again. She was having fun just being with him, and their friendship was too important to her to mess up with silly, adolescent wonderings.
Besides, if there was one thing of which she was certain, it was that Harry still saw her as the little sister of his best mate, or at least as a very good friend from his childhood.
They stood in front of the owl cages, glancing over the selection carefully. Ginny's eyes started to sting with the tears she was holding back, and all of a sudden she knew that she shouldn't be here right now. Hermes had been a constant reminder of Percy, and although it had been rough at times, she had found it oddly comforting to see the beautiful brown owl every morning and evening.
"Harry, I don't think I can do this. Could you take this, and just pick out one that you think can handle a lot of trips back and forth from home?" she asked weakly, extending a small bag of coins toward him. "I'll be outside."
Harry reached out to accept the coins, and as soon as they were in his hand, she turned and fled the store.
Harry came out about five minutes later, carrying a large, beautifully crafted cage covered by a beige blanket.
Ginny walked over to meet him, smiling sadly in appreciation. "Thank you. I'm sorry I couldn't –"
He waved off her comment mid-sentence, and held out her coin bag to her. "It wasn't a problem. Here, take this. It's on me."
Ginny shook her head. "No, that's alright, but thank you anyway. The Ministry actually gives us a pretty decent allowance for being in the program."
Harry looked determinedly into her eyes. "Ginny, I never got you a graduation present, and I've missed out on two years of birthdays and holidays. Take it," he said.
She sighed, and accepted her money back. "That's really nice Harry. Thank you."
"No problem," he said, smiling at her. She felt herself smiling back, and the effort to do so wasn't as painful as she thought it would be on this horrible day.
"So, do you want to see your new pet?" he asked.
Ginny closed her eyes briefly, a quiet moment in which she allowed herself to say goodbye to Hermes, and her last link to her brother. Then, opening her eyes, she nodded and reached for the blanket.
Her eyes rounded when she saw the magnificent owl Harry had chosen. The feathers of her new owl were a mixture of bright gold and a tawny red that glinted in the low October sun. The owl hooted gently at her, and she smiled at the comforting sound. The bird's large, dark eyes blinked at her as if sizing her up, and when Ginny reached through the bars of the cage to stroke the feathers, she was surprised at how soft and silky they were. The owl remained completely still, allowing her to pet it, its gaze still locked directly onto her.
"Hello, pretty," Ginny said softly. The owl hooted again, and Ginny's heart lifted. The sound was so soft and gentle that she immediately felt better about things. Harry had chosen very well indeed.
"It's a boy, Ginny, so handsome might be more appropriate," Harry said lightly, causing Ginny to laugh.
"Sorry, boy," she apologized to the bird, who only hooted again in response. She laughed again.
She raised her eyes to Harry, who was watching her carefully. "Thank you so much. He's so beautiful."
Harry smiled at her. "The clerk said that he can cover a lot of distance, and he's really strong, so if you are sending packages you won't have to worry. He's about a year old, so he'll be around for a very long time."
"So, what do you think I should name him?" Ginny asked, admiring the bird once again.
"That's up to you. He's yours now," he replied.
Ginny gave it only a moment's consideration. There was only one name that kept repeating in her head today.
"Percival," she said softly, her hand reaching out to the owl once more. "His feathers look like the Weasley hair, don't they?" she added, watching the light play off of the brilliant plumage.
When Harry didn't respond right away, she raised her eyes once more to his. He was watching her closely, an unreadable expression on his face.
"Yeah, I kind of thought that, too," he said, his voice sounding odd to her ears. Then, in the next instant, he cleared his throat and continued. "I think Percival is a great name for this particular bird because to be honest, he chose me. I was standing there, looking over all of the owls, and he was the only one not making any noise. He was just sitting there, staring at me. When I pointed to him, he seemed to sit up straighter, looking all dignified."
"Seems appropriate," Ginny said, laughing quietly. The memory of her brother washed over her all at once, and she stopped laughing as a tear escaped before she could catch it.
Harry took a step closer to her, putting the cage off to his side. "I think I'm going to stop by the store and take the rest of the day off. Want to come along?" he asked, his eyes still focused on her face.
"Sure," she said, wiping away the insulting tear. "What are you going to do with the rest of your afternoon then?"
"Spend it bothering you, if you don't mind," he said, smiling at her.
She laughed again, this time the sadness of the morning seeming far away. "Sounds like a plan," she responded gratefully. She didn't really want to be alone right now, and she felt an immense gratitude toward Harry for knowing that.
They made their way down the street back to the Quidditch shop, their arms brushing up against each other every so often. Ginny had a brief thought to move away to allow for more personal space, but for reasons she didn't want to explore, she didn't.
She smiled slightly to herself when she realized that Harry didn't move away either.
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