Disclaimer: I don't own anything connected to J.K. Rowling
This chapter is dedicated to Mr. Intel. Read his H/Gone shot collection- it's fabulous. Do it!
Harry stormed past Ron, taking the steps up to his dorm two at a time. He blew through the door, his breath a short hiss. The boy was seething. Harry ripped off his robes, throwing them unceremoniously on the ground.
He kicked his trunk, seething with rage. Harry sat on his bed, breathing deeply. He pulled at the hair on the back of his head in frustration, wanting very much to smash something. Unfortunately, he had no breakable, spindly, knick-knacks to send flying, so the boy contented himself by hurling his textbooks across the room with a simple summoning charm while clenching and unclenching his other fist.
No one had ever, ever, made reference to Sirius like that. His Godfather was a hallowed figure; Harry had made it perfectly clear during his summer visit at the Weasley's after his fifth year that he was fine, no, he didn't need to eat another batch of cookies, and that the name Sirius Black, all of his possessions, and number 12, Grimmauld Palace were sacred.
It was the hardest thing Harry had ever done. This scar burned inside of his chest, a living reminder of his failings and pain. Harry was torn between the desire for bitter revenge and simply walking away from it all. For weeks, he'd barely eaten, rehearsing just what he'd say to . . . that woman when they'd meet again. Harry became consumed by memory, spending days at a time locked in his room.
Defeat wasn't an option, though. After a very long, much needed, conversation with Remus, some things began to mend. The wound was still raw, pain that wouldn't ever heal. However, Sirius' longtime friend gave the young wizard perspective and understanding. Remus was the single soul to whom Harry had revealed the secret of his prophesy. The werewolf was Harry's last connection to his real family; the only being that understood the wizard's fire of emotion — hatred and sorrow.
And with a few angry words, all of his regrets and pain spilled out of him again. Harry's eyes darkened; no one ever, ever, had the right to say that. He vaguely heard something shatter behind him, followed by the unmistakable creak of splitting wood.
Damnit
His four poster bed gave another wrench of agony before cracking in half and collapsing to the ground, throwing Harry sideways. Just another lovely reminder of his "special powers" that he couldn't control.
"Should I come back later?" Ron was standing in his doorway, surveying the damage.
Harry scowled. He was now a very moody teenager dumped in a pile of broken wood and sheets, his bed broken, and desire to hurt someone intensified. "Just. Leave." He hissed through gritted teeth.
Ron gave a low whistle. "All right. Wha'd she do?"
"Ron, d'you see this bed? It could be you."
The redhead snorted, then sobered. "First of all, mate, you can't touch this." Harry rolled his eyes in spite of himself. "And second of all, splinter-arse, whatever my idiot sister did, let me tell you, she always gets her comeuppance."
"Hermione teach you that word?" Harry spat. "Look, I don't want to talk about it, all right? Now, just leave."
Ron frowned. "Gin really upset you, didn't she?"
"You Weasley's don't know when to let it go, do you?" Ron didn't respond; instead, dumped himself next to Harry on the floor. Harry took a deep breath. He closed his eyes, smiling faintly at a distant memory of mangy hair and grey eyes. The smile quickly waned, though, replaced by stinging pain at the back of his eyes.
"She . . . she —" Harry broke off, unable to hide the thick betrayal and anger in his voice. "How dare she?" he whispered fiercely. "She knew and still . . . she said, she said she was glad." Harry blinked hard, swallowing the lump rising in his throat. He had many moments where the rush of suffering was too intense for him, but these moments were saved for quiet hours of the night, when Harry allowed himself to remember the man he had loved.
"Hey, hey, mate. S'okay." Ron awkwardly patted him on the back. "I can always kick her off the team."
Harry lifted his head, his eyes blazing. "She said she was glad Sirius died." Ron blanched, paling beneath his freckles.
"She . . . said that?"
Harry nodded, clenching his fists again. "She was there. She saw him . . . saw him fall . . . . and now is glad."
"Oh, hell. I didn't know." Ron glared at the door leading down to the commons. "I saw her run back a little before you. I'm sorry. I just thought it might be . . . good for you two to, you know, practice."
"I — I can't forget that. Ever."
"Harry, I don't think she meant it like that. You know Gin, she just . . .says stuff. She was with us there. I honestly don't think she . . . she couldn't have meant that. Not Ginny. I know my sister."
"I was bloody well there, Ron."
"I just can't believe she'd say that to you. Ginny just — well, she never shuts up. Harry, I'm all for knocking her about a bit with a bludger now and again, and I know she's got problems, but I can tell you- she'd never do that. She respects you too much."
Harry glared moodily around the room. Her words stung to his core, reverberating around the walls of his heart. "Well then, since you're so buddy buddy with each other, why don't you get out of my room and go chat with her."
"D'you wanna know something, Harry?" Ron ran his hand through his hair, sticking it up in the back. It had become something of a nervous habit with him. "After you came to the burrow, after, well, you know . . . 'Mione and me, we were really worried."
Harry stiffened. The last thing he wanted was pity.
"You, well, you stopped eating and shut yourself up in your room — er, yeah. Anyway, we were gonna . . . I dunno, break down the door and force you to talk or something. Feed you vertiserum."
The wizard had never heard this story before. He stared resolutely at his hands, infinitely grateful Ron and Hermione hadn't followed through with any of that. It would have only further alienated him.
"Yeah, it sounds really stupid now. Ginny, though, she and Sirius," Harry flinched at the name. "They used to hang out I think."
They used to hang out . . .
"The summer before fifth year. 'Mione and I would clean together, run errands and stuff. I never thought really about where Ginny was. Turns out, she spent a lot of time talking to Sirius. They'd hang out with Buckbeak; since he couldn't do too much out of the house, and she was too little to really do anything, I guess they made a pair. She was probably closest to him next to you, I'd bet. Gave him company and all.
"Anyway, like I said, after the department . . . we were all going nuts. She wasn't sleeping either. Then, when you showed up and Ginny caught wind of what we were thinking, she put her foot down. Started going off about you and how hard it was . . . cried a lot. Ruddy girl.
"She camped outside your door all that time you stayed recluse. Partly, I think, to keep you "safe" from 'Mione and me, and partly to . . . I dunno, make sure you were okay and everything." Ron broke off, staring at the floor.
"I wasn't supposed to tell. She said she hex me into next week. But I — I really don't think she'd be glad. Honestly, she was a real mess afterward."
Harry stared woodenly at his friend. He knew what he heard. But at the same time, if Ron was telling the truth, then it just didn't match up. "I don't care."
Ron sighed. "I'm sorry, mate." He turned to shuffle out of the room, then paused at the door. "But, you know, Gin just says stuff. Once told Mum she was a soddy old bat because Bill got to go to Ireland and she didn't. Was in trouble for weeks. Anyway, Gin'd never wanna hurt you. I know."
The redhead smiled faintly. "Hell, when she was five or six, Gin begged Mum to sew her a 'Harry Potter' doll — scar and everything. Slept with it every night for years. We used to share a bed and every night I'd have to tell her about you and how You-Know-Who was defeated.
"You were her hero. And I think, mate, you still are. I'm just her thick her older brother, but I know Gin. She'd never want to hurt her hero."
Ron left, leaving Harry alone in the room. The wizard swore again, rubbing his throbbing temples.
XxX
Several hours later, Harry was still holed up in his room, staring at the ceiling. He was still furious with Ginny — Ron's little speech hadn't done anything to quell that. Instead, it only added to his turbulence. There was no question that Ron would be loyal to his family; Harry knew the Weasleys were protective of each other no matter what. But it didn't seem likely that he'd lied, either.
Harry was thoroughly confused. If Ginny and Sirius had been close, why would she say something like that? And if she really had camped outside of his door all summer, why would . . . she say something like that? It was a mess.
Ron was still out on prefect duties; he wouldn't be back until much later. His other room mates had gone to bed. Harry's exhausted thoughts blurred after one another in his head. One moment the memory of Ginny flying on her broom, wind whipping through her hair burned behind his eyes. The next, his chest swelled with longing and loss.
The boy's swarm of emotions stopped abruptly when he heard the door open with a creak. He groaned aloud. There was only one person, Harry deducted, who could be sneaking into his room after hours. Harry could just imagine her bare feet padding across the floor, hair spilling over her shoulders. Ginny Weasley, with her eyes sparkling in vengeance, had become a siren. Harry could easily picture her lusty frame, so deftly hiding the conniving and malicious wench she had grown into.
He wouldn't have it, though. Hot anger bubbled to his throat. How could she stand there, feet from his bed, after all her cruel barbs? Harry slammed his eyes shut, ignoring the other presence.
Well, he decided, if Ginny came expecting the chance to either gloat or apologize, she wouldn't get it.
"You can shove out of here right now," he growled without waiting for a response. "Don't think that because you're a girl I won't hex you if I have to."
"Er . . . Harry?"
Harry jolted forward in shock. "Neville?" Harry asked, just as surprised. The slightly nasal tenor wasn't what he had expected by a long shot.
Harry ripped open his bed curtains, stunned and embarrassed to see the round faced wizard staring at him. Harry cursed at himself. "Er — m'sorry Neville. I though you were someone else."
The boy smiled. "S'alright. It happens to everyone." Harry snorted. "Well, maybe not everyone."
"Right. Well, sorry." He mumbled. "I thought you were asleep."
"No. I was taking care of some . . . things down — yeah." Neville blushed, clearly uncomfortable. "Just out of curiosity, who were you expecting?"
Harry scowled. The indirect mention of Ginny set him off again. "No one."
Neville shrugged, climbing into his four poster. "Okay."
Harry breathed a sigh of relief, surprised at how his semi-friend let it drop. Neville Longbottom really was a decent bloke. Unfortunately, Harry's thoughts now were more crowded. In the aftermath of what Ginny had thrown at him, Harry had been so focused on her crass Sirius comment he'd forgotten everything else she'd said.
Guilt suddenly washed over him. For years, Neville's bed had been next to his, yet Harry hadn't taken the time to ever try to understand him. How many people have I neglected? Harry began to wonder a little bit if what Ginny said was true. Thinking about it made him ache, he was still so angry at her, but now part of him argued that she may have been right.
He lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling. Minutes of silence ticked by while he thought.
"Hey, Neville?" Harry whispered.
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry about your parents." Silence.
Harry instantly regretted saying it. If someone randomly pitied his dead mother and father, he'd be offended as well.
"S'alright." Neville mumbled, at last.
More minutes passed, both boys acutely aware of the other's soft breathing.
"Hey Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks," Neville whispered.
Harry allowed himself a small smile. The sinking feeling in his gut felt a little lighter.
XxX
Harry dreamed about her again. Unfortunately for him, his subconscious missed the small memo that he was angry with Ginny, so his dream was . . . sweaty. Harry woke up deeply disgusted and frustrated with himself.
None of the other boys were awake. Harry guessed it was around 5:30, too late to go back to sleep. He slipped on his socks, still scowling from the memories of caressing red hair and freckles.
He couldn't understand it. Why couldn't he sort out how he felt about her? Harry's rational side took over. Ginny Weasley was impossibly attractive, insightful, witty, and personable. Who wouldn't be drawn to that kind of bird? She also happened to be cruel, thoughtless, and insulting. It was a rare paradox — one Harry couldn't make sense of.
He stole down to the common room, careful not to bother his room mates. Ron had stumbled in later than usual, muttering under his breath about 'never again' and 'some idiot.' Harry didn't want to set his friend off by waking him prematurely.
He was halfway down the steps when the boy stopped short, his momentum nearly carrying him to the bottom regardless. Harry nearly groaned aloud. A very familiar scarlet head of hair was visible over the back of his favorite armchair. Ginny's ubiquitous nature had struck once again. These eerie coincidences were really getting out of hand.
I can't bloody win.
Harry slunk back against the wall, silently regarding his "nemesis". He felt a twang of self-reproachment go off in his chest, but ignored it. From his position, he couldn't tell what Ginny was doing. His best guess was reading; but at 5:30 in the morning?
He slowly manuevered down the rest of the stairs, hyper-aware of her soft breathing and his sweaty palms. The seconds passed in silence, and Harry grew restless. Watching the back of someone's head wasn't that satisfying, after all.
Ginny shifted positions in the chair so that much more of her profile was facing him, her head and shoulders were twisted sideways, her bare feet poking out of the other side. Harry watched her, the picture of serenity contradicting her base nature.
She had probably slept soundly the entire night, with no regard for anyone else.
Harry would have loved to have marched over to her and slugged her right in the face. He knew he wouldn't, though. Despite his tough words the night before, the wizard knew he'd never be able to hit a girl, it just wasn't right.
Still . . . she had hurt him very deeply. The stinging pain returned every time he glanced at her exposed profile. Harry couldn't forgive Ginny for what she had said, yet something inside still desperately ached to hold and touch her.
Harry rubbed his eyes, increasingly maddened. After a long while, he trudged back to his room to dress.
xXx
At breakfast, Harry couldn't eat. He picked at his eggs, half heartedly listening to the conversation. Ron had undoubtedly told Hermione about what had happened; the two of them took turns shooting Harry sympathetic and worried glances.
"Harry," Hermione began, her voice low. "Do eat something."
For her benefit, Harry chewed on a piece of toast, the taste suddenly like sawdust when he caught sight of Ginny taking her seat near Hermione. He gave her a cold glare and turned away.
His bushy haired friend shot him one last pained expression before exchanging pleasantries with Ginny. Leave it to Hermione to be the "peacemaker."
Try as he might, the wizard couldn't drown Ginny out. She was talking with Hermione like they were old friends. Her lusty voice pierced all other conversation in the Great Hall, catching his ear.
"It was so strange, Hermione."
"You're usually up that early."
"No, it was like . . .I dunno. I felt . . . someone there. With me." Hermione nodded for her to continue. "Like a presence. The back of my neck was all tingly and everything. I couldn't focus."
"Do you think someone was spying on you?" Ginny shrugged. "Who would?"
So she had noticed him. Well, that was brilliant. Ron and Harry shared a look, the redhead's eyes questioning. Harry shook his head; he didn't want his friend getting the right idea about him. The wizard excused himself, shooting Ginny another glare. He left the Great Hall, a mild huff of indignation echoing behind him.
Harry walked quickly down the corridor, his temper rising.
"Hey! Harry, stop!" He ignored the voice, his features hard. It caught him by surprise, though, when he was bowled over by a very solid force. He cursed, laying on the stone floor. Ginny had thrown her stuffed bookbag at him.
"Harry, stop. We need to talk." The boy slung his bag over his shoulder, standing. "I don't want to talk to you."
Ginny shoved her hands on her hips, defiantly staring at him. "If you expect me to apologize for everything, you're wrong."
"What?" Harry started.
She shrugged, glaring back at him. "It's true. You glaring at me all the time isn't going to make me back down. Whether you like it or not, I'm right."
"Excuse me?" He leveled, feeling iron pump through his body. His wand hand subconsciously itched closer to his pocket. "Who gave you the right to tell me what to do?"
She made an impatient tutting sound, infuriating him more. "Ron and Hermione are too scared of your bloody temper to tell you off when you need it, and someone's got to, so why not me?"
"You —" he gaped, fighting to stay in control. "You don't know anything about me."
She smirked. "You'd be surprised. Anyway, I followed you to tell you to stop treating me badly because no one else has the guts to say what needs to be said."
"To say what needs to be said?" he echoed, incredulous. "YOU'RE BLOODY OUT OF YOUR MIND!"
"Stop shouting, Harry."
"I'LL SHOUT IF I FEEL LIKE IT!"
"Real mature, there." Ginny's dry tone and knowing smile had evaporative his last reserve of will power.
"Get away from me," he growled.
"I'll do no such thing."
"Just do it, Weasley." Her eyes sprang open at the use of her surname, reflecting betrayal and hurt. Harry's stomach gave a little leap for the victory; the witch now felt a portion of the pain he hosted the past day.
"DON'T YOU SHUT ME OUT!" She screamed back at him, her cheeks flaming red. "I don't want to row with you!"
"I don't want to ever see you again," he shot back, voice steely. Ginny let her wand fall to her side.
"What did I do to you?" she whispered.
Harry didn't believe her wide-eyed expression for an instant. He took a step forward. "Don't. You. Ever. Speak of Sirius again."
Ginny blinked at him, biting the inside of her cheek. "You mean yesterday . . ." Her voice trailed off. "Oh, Harry I didn't mean —"
"Shut up." He cut her off, visibly shaking.
"No," Ginny snapped. "You can't make me. I've never met anyone so thick-headed, stubborn, irritating . . . For the first time in my life, I really don't like you, Harry Potter."
Harry blew out his breath in an angry huff. "You're — you're just a silly, little, girl aren't you?"
The sentence had immediate effect. Ginny's mouth opened and closed wordlessly. She took a step back, shaking her head. "What?"
"You're just a silly girl. You don't know anything about people. You think you can say whatever you want, but you don't get it. Sirius is dead, and you're too foolish to shut your mouth about it." Harry's voice was even. He didn't know what made him call her that; he simply wanted to hurt her. He wanted her to feel the ache that never left him.
"Don't you ever call me that." Ginny was shaking her head again, her hair falling out of it's bun. "Don't ever say that."
"Why not?" He taunted. Harry knew he was wrong, but he couldn't stop his mouth; he'd lost control of all thought. "Afraid of the truth?"
Her jaw hardened. Ginny wasn't going to cry; the sobbing girl he had once known was gone. She turned her ice- cold stare on the boy, a look of sheer hatred. Harry had only seen such pure contempt aimed at him from one other soul. She turned on her heel and left, leaving a suddenly ashamed boy in her wake.
A.N.: I know, I know, nearly identical endings in this and the last chapter. But this is the very end of the fighting, I promise! And I want to apologize for making Harry such a complete and utter jerk. My only reasoning is that in the books when people insult his dead family, he looses it, and says things he doesn't mean. Also, Harry has no idea why calling her a "silly little girl" is so bad. (Do you?) Anyway, Harry will feel much needed guilt and remorse in the very near future, I promise. I really had a hard time with this chapter. It sets a lot of the plot moving- though. Don't be too hard on me, I really tried. Please stay with me, the fun-ness timesare next!
Expect the next chap. up by the end of the week- this one was delayed because I had summer camp for two weeks.
Question of the day: "Ginny" — Short for Virginia or Ginevra?
Luckycharms445: Um, sorry. Harry's jerkiness is totally finished, though. Forgive me for doing it; he had to. And that girlfriend thing? Well, by the end of the fic, there may be a remedy . . .
Puss: I completely agree with you on both accounts. Ginny stepped way over the line, and now has to deal with angry Harry. Not fun. Also, I agree that Harry is a bit of a dunce I this fic, but he's always been when it comes to girls. Don't worry, he'll figure it out sooner or later.
Katjajett: I know about the whole anger thing, both on Harry and Ginny's part seems kinda bizarre. But you have to rmember these are two very dynamic people with short tempers. And especially in this fic, Harry is confused and frustrated, thus angry. Thanks for the review.
Wolf's Scream: I am so mortified at how many grammatical errors I let slip last chapter. Thank you so much for correcting me. I promise I'll edit and repost it when I get the chance. Also, I can't thank you enough for your reviews, I need all the help I can get when it comes to boys' thoughts. From the books, Harry doesn't handle change he can't control well. Instead of coping with new emotions, he gets angry. Also, the boy's got quite a temper. I tried to balance all of that, but yeah, Harry's a bit daft. He's also pretty girl-ignorant.
Halfcrazy: Thank You! What an enthusiastic review! I'll try . . .
Harte: I've had a lot of mixed responses from the fight. I'm so glad someone gets it! Harry doesn't mean to be an idiot, he just can't help it, yeah?
Special thanks to all of my reviewers. I truly love you guys!
Cheers
WQ