Chapter 21

May 3

I just don't understand how this could have happened to me. Me. They had to take me. They had to—they should have! They're fools for not accepting me.

I've finally processed that… I didn't make it. That something went wrong. That I wasn't good enough. It took a few cigarettes to calm me down, but I got there. I almost had a drink, but stopped myself. Not because of Ginny, though. Before I didn't drink because I thought of what Ginny might think, or how she might react. I'm stopping now because… well, because of myself. I don't want to slip back into addiction again. Drinks are good, but not worth the hell I put myself and everyone else through. And maybe group helped a little bit, too. I'll admit that now.

Ginny and I have been a bit… rocky lately. We've been seeing less of each other, and conversation between us is stiff. I think back to the time I first fell in love with her—real love, not the I-love-yous I've been telling her lately—and I wonder where she's gone. The lively Ginny who always had the sparkle of life. Who had real problems, real, deep feelings. The real Ginny. Now she's cardboard, plastic, and I don't know what to do.

The Ginny Weasley I fell in love with was fun, carefree, a laugh, spontaneous. I could really talk to her. She made me laugh, even gave me the warm feeling I grew to know. She was gorgeous, and absolutely perfect.

Ginny's appearance hasn't changed at all, and I'm sure she's just as much a sight to see, but she's not beautiful to me anymore. She's predictable, not nearly as much fun… I don't know what to do. I can't break her heart; I won't. I know Ginny's still Ginny… somewhere. I couldn't stand it if she became depressed and brokenhearted because of me. And then there's Ron to consider. How would he take it?

She's so used to things now; to me. They're so routine. I'm starting to wonder if that's what she really wanted all these years.

May 5

No way. I don't believe it. It's just… completely unbelievable, and bizarre, and ironic… and unfair. It's so unfair… though I guess I should be happy. It's hard, though, even if he is my best friend.

Owl mail just came in, and Ron got a letter from the Ministry asking him to join. He spends seven years goofing off and the Ministry asks him to join them. I save the world—more than once—and they reject me. Where's the justice in that?

I forced a smile at breakfast and tried to look happy for him, then came up here. It just isn't fair! It's wrong! They can't do this to me!

I'm going to do something. I've got to.

May 7

Hermione, Ginny, Ron and I went out to dinner and out partying last night in celebration of Ron's… whatever. I couldn't say no because he's my best friend and I had to at least pretend I'm happy. We all sat at the bar at the Hog's Head (Ron's choice, of course). I had just one drink. I watched Ginny out of the corner of my eye, and she mimicked me. She got the same drink, only one, and nothing else. She laughed at what I said and plastered a smile on her face.

I suspect my eyes glazed over, but it seemed like no one noticed. Hermione and Ron were caught up in the celebration and Ginny was, too, but she was also being shut off; more of an observer. So I was left to wonder.

That, I realized, was one of the main things I missed about Ginny. I never really noticed how much she'd changed until recently when I really started thinking about it. The old Ginny was mature, but had the most brilliant sense of life I'd ever seen in a person. She was fun, spontaneous, and always sparkled. Her smile was genuine and so were her tears. Everything she did was real. Over the last month or so, she's lost her sense of life. She's changed tremendously but I don't know if anyone else sees it. I don't like it at all, but I just noticed it. I've got to tell her. I've got to save her.

Just then, Hermione broke my thoughts. "Harry?" she said. "We want you to do the toast."

I looked up, and everyone was staring at me expectantly. My insides froze, but I kept a cool exterior.

Clearing my throat, I began. "Ron," I said, and stopped, realizing I had no idea what to say. Improvising, I continued. "We've been through a lot these last seven years—fights, girls, and we've had our moments. I've been a real prick lately and you still took our friendship back. I can't thank you enough. You're one of the best friends a person could have. Congratulations." I raised my glass with everyone else, and as they all downed theirs I realized something. I thought I was pulling that speech out of my arse, but I really did mean it.

Hermione pulled me aside after Ron and Ginny had left ahead of us.

"Are you guys okay?" she asked.

"Who, me and Ron? Yeah, 'course," I answered.

"No," she said, a little irritated. "You and Ginny."

"Oh. Yeah, we're fine, why?" I asked, busying myself with my empty glass.

"Harry, stop it." She touched my hand. "I noticed you two weren't all lovey-dovey and I was just wondering if you'd had a row or something."

"No, no row. We're on perfectly fine terms."

"Oh," Hermione said. "Okay. But if you need someone to talk to, I'm here."

"I know," I said. "Thanks."

It turned out that Ginny was waiting for me outside the Hog's Head. She smiled when she saw me and linked her arm through mine.

I tried to forget the conversation Hermione and I had had just previously as Ginny and I walked back to GryffindorTower. She began chatting, and I tried to cover my ears without actually physically covering my ears. I thought about what the hell I was going to do with my life, and what my occupation would be if I wasn't an Auror.

Ginny's voice broke my thoughts. "What's wrong?" she asked.

I was surprise she had noticed I was preoccupied. Lately it seemed like she was superficial, my stereotype of a girl.

"Nothing," I swatted the matter away with my voice.

"Harry," she said sternly. "I know you better than that. What's troubling you?"

For a moment there, I saw a glimpse of the old Ginny. There was concern and compassion in her eyes, and she was truly waiting for my response. I decided to take the chance. I told her all about the letter I had gotten from the Ministry, my rejection.

She looked genuinely apologetic. "I'm sorry," she said, pain in her voice. "Wanna go fly a bit?"

The thought tempted me greatly, I must admit, but I said, "Haven't we both had drinks?"

"A drink," she corrected. "And it was weak; we'll be fine. We're both sober." She looked at me expectantly, awaiting my answer.

"I… okay," I consented.

Stopping only at the Tower to grab my broom, we raced to the Quidditch pitch. We both mounted the Firebolt—me in front, Ginny behind. "We'll be safer if we're both on one broom," she had insisted, and it made me think she was beginning to get anxious about the alcohol in our systems. That was the Ginny I knew.

We circled a couple times around the pitch, then soared across the lake, our fingers reaching don to touch the metallic water. I was hit with memories of the first time we flew. It was complete exhilaration. I forgot my troubles, the familiar but missed feeling of letting go of everything rushing to greet me. I never realized how much I really missed flying until I had experienced it again.

We landed by a small crowd of trees, the night cool and young. Ginny leaned against me and I leaned against the strong trunk of an oak.

"Feel better?" Ginny murmured as she fell asleep against my chest.

I smiled and nodded though I knew she couldn't see me. The feeling of flying was so comforting, so relaxing and familiar. It was the one stable thing in my life I could count on. As Ginny had fallen asleep, I was drifting off as well, feeling relaxed, as I hadn't in a long time.

Then it hit me. Without waking Ginny, I carried her to the Firebolt and flew back to the castle, eager and excited and anxious while contemplating this next move that my life depended on.

May 9

I've just sent it. My heart is racing, oddly; this is not my dream at all and yet I'm waiting in anticipation for a reply.

I sent my own application to the Chudley Cannons to play for their team. I'm in serious luck because their Seeker just retired. It's my only option, because I didn't get the Auror position and there's nothing else I can do.

I've got to wait at least a week until they process it. It can't be sooner than that; it took everyone else's at least that long.

I'm sitting on the edge of my seat, nervous and panicked, and a thought is chewing at me: What if they reject me? What will I do with my life? I am not going to work at a little shop in Diagon Alley like Florean Fortescue's. I can't throw my life away.

On another dull note, Ginny was her old self for a morning, taking care of me when I had my hangover-like headache yesterday (I don't know why I felt so bad; I didn't drink much at all). Then, after that, she was back to the Ginny that I'm not so fond of again.

I should probably confront her about it; let her know how I feel about this. I mean, it's what I'm supposed to do, right?

And it's not like I'm afraid to ruin "how well things are going", because, frankly, they haven't been going all that well lately. We're so… mechanical, so robotic, so routine.

I hate that. I loved the spontaneity of our relationship. I loved how she'd surprise me, how she'd say the oddest things, how she'd know how to have fun.

Maybe I should tell her.

A/N: Ignore typos if there are any; I was so excited about posting it that I didn't give it a thorough check. Only two more chapters left, everyone.

potts—Why are you the only one who's reviewed? That makes me sad. Thanks for always reviewing!