Chapter Thirteen: The Ballad of Harry and Ginny

Tired, freezing, and drenched, Harry walked into the boys' locker rooms, feeling as though he'd just come from a wrestling match with the giant squid.

"Ugh!" Paul complained as he pried of his boots and dumped the water onto the floor. "My skin's soaked right through to the skin."

January had come, and with it the second match loomed ever closer. Ginny had recovered from her injuries from the last match just fine, and once the Christmas holidays were over and the new term begun, she started up her grueling practice schedule. Eight days a week, in fact.

Stripping off his dripping clothes, Harry wrapped a warm towel around his waist and began sorting through his bag for a clean pair of boxers, jeans, and socks.

"If that broom she says she's ordered doesn't come in soon, I don't know how we stand a chance," Ron mumbled through the thick wool of the jumper, which he was in the process of pulling over his head.

Harry nodded his head glumly. Hufflepuff had come a long way under the direction of Justin Finch-Fletchly, their captain. Justin had turned out to be a surprising leader and a quite popular seventh-year, which was a great change from the boy Harry had met in second year.

That boy can't seem to keep his broomstick in the broom shed.

Yeah, he was caught with Susan Bones behind the Quidditch stands, Hanna Abbot in the dungeons, and both of the Patil twins in a broom cupboard.

And all this time, we thought he was gay.

Yeah, well…

"Have you asked her about it anymore?" Ron asked, snapping Harry from his thoughts.

"No, not after the last time when she practically bit my head off," Harry said, moving back a bit from Ron as he pulled on the bright orange Cannons socks. Ron had this…thing…about wearing the same pair of socks during the Quidditch season. He said it was "good luck" and it seemed to be working, they'd never lost a game since he'd started this tradition although like Ginny said who'd want to try to score a goal through that stench. At least Hermione had taught Ron a freshening spell that fought off the worst of it.

"Something's going on Harry, it's not like Ginny to be so secretive. She never shuts up!"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. "I know."

"Can't you talk to her?"

"Believe me Ron, I've tried. She either changes the subject or just ignores the question all together."

"I want to know where she got the money!" Ron hissed, shoving a foot into a well-worn trainer. "Fred, George, and I did good to get her old broomstick, and we had to get that used! Where on earth did she get enough money to order a brand spanking new broom?"

"Dunno," Harry sighed.

"Mae says that anything is possible as long as you put your mind to it," said John as he emerged from the shower, soap still in his hair. Harry couldn't miss the exasperated expression Paul gave him and Harry had to suppress a grin. Mae Chang was John's Ravenclaw girlfriend, a year older than he was, and the younger sister of Cho Chang. Mae was pretty in her own sort of way, but she seemed a bit…weird…as she just had absolutely no interest in Quidditch. John however, adored her, was always talking about her, and was more often seen in her company than without.

Ron waited until the rest of the team had left the room before continuing, "Try talking to her again, ok Harry? It's been weeks since she's ordered that broomstick, and the game is in three days!"

Ginny had ordered a new broomstick, at least she'd told everyone she had, and the entire team was waiting with bated breath for its impending arrival. She'd been making due with the school brooms, which were absolutely horrendous sticks of wood, impossible to control and slower than Crabbe and Goyle trying to figure out an Arithmancy problem.

Look, just go talk to her one more time. This is Ginny we're talking about.

Yeah, it's Ginny. The same girl who's always too damn tired to do anything fun, doesn't talk about anything but Quidditch, the girl who's practically ignored me since Christmas…

Maybe it's just a phase she's going through. She's female after all. It's quite simple enough, just go talk to her…NOW!

And with that Harry left the locker room, not even hearing Ron's puzzled "Where you off to?"

****

Ginny was hunched over her own bag, hair dripping wet, but dressed in a faded blue t-shirt and jeans that evidently had been washed and worn more than their worth. Ignoring the startled gasp from Sue, who was also present, Harry strode towards Ginny.

"We need to talk."

Ginny jumped, turned and gasped, "What are you doing in here?" all at once.

"I want to talk to you," Harry firmly repeated.

Good boy, just stay firm and don't let her get the upper hand this time.

He watched Ginny's eyes lower, her face reddening a bit as she swallowed. "Erm…ok."

"I was just leaving anyway," Harry heard Sue say breathlessly. His eyes focused on the other girl, who was openly staring at Harry, making no move to exit. Harry folded his arms over his torso and raised an eyebrow at her, watched her blush profusely as she got the hint and practically backed out of the room. Shaking his head at her strange antics, he turned his attention back to Ginny. She seemed frozen in her spot, and her own eyes were still lowered staring down at his…

Bloody everlasting hell! Couldn't we have at least got dressed?

Harry was just as surprised as she appeared to be to find himself still in the towel he'd draped around himself. He cleared his throat to gain her attention. Bright spots of red colored her face, neck and ears. She swallowed again.

"Uh, so…Harry, what's so important that you couldn't wait to get dressed before coming to see me?" she asked. Her voice was cool but shaky.

He shrugged non-chalantly as he could. "You've seen me in a towel before."

Remember that moment? What a classic!

Ginny nodded and finally managed to meet his gaze. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

Not to sound conceited or anything, but the last time I was dressed like this she could barely keep her hands off me! What's got into her?

Maybe she's found some control?

Wish she'd lose it again…

He spotted a flash of silver draped around her neck. "What is this thing? You never take it off." He asked as he tugged on the necklace.

Ginny tried to wrench the thing back from his grasp, but he was holding on too tightly. It was a round object, and although Harry had never actually seen one in real life, he knew what it was. Uncle Vernon had given Dudley a few during his last business trip to America.

"It's…a…a….good luck charm, that's all," Ginny stammered, her face rapidly turning scarlet. She suddenly giggled, and Harry couldn't help but smile at the sound. "Amy and Patricia gave it to me."

"It's a quarter, isn't it?"

Ginny gaped at him. "Yes, how'd you know?"

"I've seen them before, American Muggles use them as money."

For some strange reason, Ginny looked quite relieved. "Oh yes, money! Of course, it's money. What did you think they were used for?" She coughed. "Now what did you want to see me about?"

"Well, I'd like to talk about how the game against Hufflepuff is in three days, and you still don't have a broomstick," Harry blurted out.

Ginny rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I've told you Harry, it's on its way. It's just taking a while to get here."

"Obviously. I mean, I doubt even my Firebolt took six weeks to be delivered. Must be some broom you've got."

It could have been Harry's imagination, or perhaps the lighting in the locker room, but Ginny's suddenly took on the appearance of a hunted rabbit. "I'm not going to discuss this with you again, Harry. Go and get dressed!" Ginny turned and tried to get past him, but Harry wasn't having any of that.

"You don't discuss it at all! What's the bloody secret anyway? We'll all see it when it gets here. If it gets here." He softened his tone, "Can't you at least tell me what you've got?"

Crimson ringlets fell forwards, brushing up against the bare skin of his chest as she bowed her head in defeat. "It's a Firebolt," she mumbled.

Huh?

WHAT?

Placing a finger under her chin, he tipped her face up so he could hear her better. "I must have heard you wrong. Sounded like you said a Firebolt."

"That's because I did."

"A Firebolt. A REAL FIREBOLT!"

"Why are you shouting? Yes, a Firebolt. I believe you have one as well," she said impatiently, as though she were Hermione explaining to Ron the importance of Hogwarts: A History.

She's lying.

If her nose got any longer, she could use it as a broomstick.

"Where'd you get the money?" Harry demanded.

"I…I…" Harry could literally see the cogs working in head. "I've been saving up," she finished with a smug smile.

"Saving up, huh? Didn't know Ginny Gems were selling that well," he said, referring to the sweets Ginny had invented and sold through Fred and George's joke shop.

"Well, the Christmas season was very profitable," Ginny replied smoothly. "I must admit I didn't expect the Spanish Inquisition over this, Harry."

No one expects the Spanish Inquisition!

"I just want to know why you're being so secretive. Come on Ginny, it's me you're talking to. Please don't do this…." He let his voice trail as he watched her turn away. "Just tell me who you bought it from…"

"I can't Harry. I promised." She slung her bag over her shoulder. "I'm sorry." And she truly looked it, although Harry was in no mood to notice it. "I've got to go." Her retreating footsteps echoed in the now empty room.

****

"Should we open it?" Ron asked Harry, nodding to the long package that sat on the common room table.


"Don't be silly Ron! It's Ginny's package, not yours? How would you like it if someone opened up your mail?" Hermione scolded without even glancing up from her homework. "You're going to have to wait until Ginny gets back from detention."

"Yeah, but I want to see what it is!" Ron complained, while furtively hiding the copy of Quidditch Illustrated: The Swimsuit Issue in between his Divination books. Harry had sneaked a quick peek of it earlier; Anastasia Dimitrova of Russia was on the front cover, wearing something that looked like strawberry edible underwear.

"It's a Firebolt," Harry said. "She told me this afternoon."

"What? There's no way she could have got a Firebolt, not in a million years!" Ron banged his fist on the table. "Absolutely no way at all."

"Maybe she got it used?" Hermione asked.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Anyone who has read Quidditch Illustrated knows that one does not buy a used Firebolt," he said loftily. "They've not been out on the market long enough."

Hermione smiled serenly. "Well, you can let me borrow that copy you've got in your Divination book, can't you? You know the one with Anastasia Dimitrova draped all over that goal post in that hot pink string bikini?"

Harry and Hermione exchanged grins. The look on Ron's face was priceless. "I read it for the articles," Ron protested, his ears reddening.

"Of course."

Turning back to his Divination homework, Harry read his weekly astrological report, of which he had to interpret.

The lion is facing troubled times as he passes through Mercury. Deceit, lies, and treachery are your companions. Beware the raven, as he brings you nothing but torment.

Ah, yes! The usual nonsense…

Wait a moment, there might be something to this. "Beware the raven as he brings you nothing but torment." I know where Ginny got the Firebolt!

From that?

Think about it. Raven. Ravenclaw. Who is the one person Ginny would know well enough to get her a Firebolt?

Pretty boy Peter.

And it's why she's refused to tell us anything.

Ginny wouldn't really do something like that would she?

I…I don't know. The old Ginny, no. This Ginny, Captain Ginny, hell bent on winning or else Ginny…she might.

As if on cue, Ginny came through the portrait hole, hair in wild dissaray about her shoulders and a bit of dirt on her nose. She looked haggard, most likely from polishing the trophy room again. Her tired eyes brightened though once they landed on the long package.

"See! I told you it would come!" she said smugly, nearly running over to grab the broom. The rustling sound of paper being ripped to shreds filled the room as Ginny made quick work of the wrapping.

"Wow!"

"Amazing!"

It was a Firebolt Chaser. The firelight reflecting off the diamond hard polish shone so brightly it could've blinded them. It hung in the air, the familiar light humming sound drowning out the startled gasps from Ron and Hermione.

"How did you get it? Was it from Mr Simmons? When can I try it?" Ron was nearly dancing with excitement, and Harry knew it was all he could do to keep from touching the gleaming wood. The broom was just as perfect as Harry had remembered.

"Well Harry? What do you think?" Ginny asked, ignoring her brother for a moment.

"It's nice," was all he could allow himself to say.

Is this a dagger I see before me?

Harry came closer to inspect it, making a great show out of examining each twig, praying there would be some sort of imperfection. A blemish. A bent twig. Anything to criticise. But no, the broom appeared as though it had just come from the factory.

"Wow! Look at the early registration number," Ron said as he inspected the registration number that all Firebolts had imprinted on them. "This must be one of the first to be made." Harry noticed the number inscribed in gold lettering: 28IF.

"But where did you get the money?" Hermione finally asked, not as impressed with the broom as Ron was.

"She sold a few things," Harry replied coldly, giving Ginny an appraising look. "Isn't that right?"

"Yes, that's it. I'd been saving up as well."

Ron didn't seem to buy that either. "Saving up? Ginny, you couldn't afford one of these things in your dreams. Come on, this is me you're talking to. Where'd you get this?"

"I told you. I bought it." Ginny was clearly becoming annoyed. "I can't tell you who from, I promised I wouldn't."

Ron looked like he wanted to argue the point a bit further, but must have decided against it instead. Excitement crept back into his voice once again as he contemplated the upcoming match. "Hufflepuff's not going to have a prayer against us! We're unbeatable with two Firebolts on the team! That cup'll be ours in no time!"

Hermione didn't look as nearly as convinced as Ron did, but was familiar with Ginny enough to know when she wasn't going to get a straight answer. "It's a really great broom," she said supportively. "I know you'll be great on it."

"Thanks Hermione." Ginny carefully grasped the handle, as though it would shatter at the merest touch. "I would think that Harry would have a bit more to say than 'It's nice.' After all, all I've heard in the past two months is 'When are you going to get a new broom? Have you ordered a new broom? You need to get a broom,'" she mocked Harry's voice.

Harry stared stonily back, the hairs on the back of his neck prickling as he felt the tension rise to an unbearable level.

"Yes, well…we need to get to bed," Hermione said, pulling Ron away from the broom and nudging him up the boys' dormitory. "I'll see you both tomorrow." Harry heard a mumbled "I hope" as she walked past him up to her own staircase.

Harry waited until he had heard the soft click of two doors being shut.

"Listen Ginny—"

"No Harry, you listen!" Ginny nearly shouted, volume increasing with each word, as sure sign that the Weasley temper was about to be unleashed. "Why can't you just be happy for me? Why?"

"Happy?" Harry shot back just as furiously. "Happy about all the lies? All the secrecy? And how do you know this is even a real Firebolt?"

"Well of course it's real! You can't just go about counterfeiting Firebolts, it's impossible! You know that!" Ginny's face was blood red, her brown eyes wild, making her appear more like a banshee that Seamus told stories of from his native Ireland. "Besides," she added, "I trust the person who gave it to me."

"Oh yeah, let's talk about this guy…" Harry didn't care who heard him. He was so angry he couldn't see straight.

"I'm not telling you who he is!"

"You don't have to! I know! Didn't think I could put two and two together, did you?"

"What are you talking about?" To her credit, Ginny looked genuinely confused.

"PETER! There, I said it. Pretty boy Peter gave you that Firebolt."

Ginny let out a startled laugh. "Peter? You think Peter gave me that? Why—"

"Because I've seen him around you! He likes you!" Harry didn't notice how close they were to each other, noses almost touching as they shouted.

"That's…that's…" Ginny spluttered angrily. "You can't be serious!"

"I can just picture the senario, all cozy in Charms class with the Ravenclaws isn't it? Share a desk, do you?"

"Harry, I don't believe that you honestly think…" If Harry hadn't been so furious, he would have seen the tears in Ginny's eyes, how her entire body shook with anger, how her hands were balled into tight fists at her sides.

"What did you have to do to get the broom, huh? What did you pay it all up front or is it on a "layaway" basis?"

Harry never saw it coming. No warning at all before the dull thud of flesh hitting flesh and a sharp pain lashed through his skull. His head snapped back with the force of the blow, and the last thing Harry remembered was tasting the warm metallic flavor of blood, just before he fell to the floor.

****

A/N: Thanks to Presto for the use of his strawberry edible underwear. J Thanks to Anne, the Grammar Nazi, for the grammar help and for letting me borrow her Monty Python references. I swear, that just snuck in there. Apologies to Imogen for the use of the word "snuck."

Paul's line: "My skin's soaked right through to the skin." is taken from the 1965 movie Help!

Ten points to whoever can name BOTH women that Mae Chang is based on. Both played a role in John Lennon's life.

And the dagger line was straight from Shakespeare's Macbeth.

Apologies for the cliffhanger, but I need some motivation for the next chapter, although I am very close to getting to the scene that I pretty much wrote this story around.