Here's the next part! I'm sorry if there are inconsistancies about the lake by the school. I'm not quite sure where it's located.

Enjoy!

/

September 17th – 10:45pm – Gryffindor Common Room.

Harry. Such a nice bloke. I'm back to fancying him a bit. Here's what happened.

We apologized to each other today. We hadn't spoken all week. I was angry, so angry, at first. But I started to understand that Harry's only looking out for me. I believe he's wrong about Draco, yet I realize that I should appreciate his concern.

I was heading toward the library from History of Magic after the bell sounded for the last class of the day when I saw Harry.

"Harry!" I called out as I elbowed through the growing mob of students. I arrived at his side a tad winded from my efforts.

"Going to the common room?" he asked blankly.

"Erm, yeah," I lied. I needed a reason to talk to him, to apologize.

We walked in silence for several paces, then started talking at the same time.

"Listen, Harry—"
"Ginny, I—"

"Sorry, what were you—"
"Oh no, you go ahead—"

Silence again.

"Harry," I began, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry I, um, last week. I'm sorry I kind of bit your head off. About—about Draco. You were only—"

"Don't worry about it," he interrupted mildly, shrugging. "I'm sorry too. You had good reason to be mad. You've the right to make your own choices."

We said nothing more until we'd reached the entrance to the common room, each of us forgiving the other without words.

Harry stopped me at the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Ginny?"

He was rubbing the back of his neck with his fingertips, sort of talking into my left shoulder.

"Erm, d'you want to go for a walk around the grounds with me? I mean, not with me, but, ah, I don't know—"

"Sure," I answered. "Ah, give me two minutes?"

Harry let out a long breath, almost like he was relieved. Probably just glad that we were speaking to each other again, just as I was.

"Oh, yeah, of course."

We turned to the Fat Lady, and I said the password ("flobberworm"). The portrait swung open, and we climbed through the circular entrance. I jogged up the stairs to the girls' dormitory to drop my books off.

After changing into jeans and white trainers, I surveyed myself in the mirror. I took my hair down from the loose ponytail it was in; my hair fell slightly below my shoulders. I put it up again. And then I took it down. I scrunched the curly ends in my palms. I considered putting on a bit of makeup, but then decided against it.

I don't know why I was being so fussy about my appearance.

He was waiting for me when I got back to the common room, and we left together.

And then, we just talked. Walked around the grounds and talked. About Quidditch, his mates, the upcoming excursion to Hogsmeade. He had great patience with me when I spoke about school troubles. I've been having difficulties keeping my grades up; It's just so hard to find time for everything. For some reason, Harry was incredibly easy to talk to; my pent-up frustration all spilled out. I probably rambled and complained longer than most would tolerate, but Harry never stopped me. Not once. He's a brilliant listener.

Well, his turn to talk came.

We had wandered over to the lake. Harry picked up a flat stone and threw it with a masterful flick of his wrist. It skipped four times across the surface of the water before sinking, the image of the reflected sky distorting from the ripples.

He kept doing this, seemingly without even thinking about it. I could tell his mind was elsewhere; he was staring thoughtfully across the lake at a small clearing opposite us. It was the first time in two hours that there was silence between us, but it was not at all awkward. We simply stood and surveyed the picturesque scene, the rippling lake, the thick forest across it, the orange sun that had slid considerably lower in the sky since we'd begun our walk.

I suddenly felt a pang of guilt for talking his ear off about my school problems. Harry's been through so much. He's lost people he loved, he witnessed a fellow student's death. For God's sake, he killed a basilisk as a twelve-year-old!

I hung my head and scowled down at my shoes. Honestly, the petty problems I have that I seem to think people want to hear.

'What's said is said,' I thought, in an attempt to shake my guilty conscience.

I noticed a smooth, oval-shaped rock next to my foot. I picked it up and tried to mimic Harry's perfect flick-of-the-wrist form. Instead, my whole arm had a spasm and the oblong stone flew from my hand and fell to the water with an ungraceful 'SPLUNK'.

The sound snapped Harry out of his trance. He looked my way, slightly confused at first, then broke into a toothy smile. His eyes didn't match his enthusiastic grin, however. Their emerald color seemed less vivid. He looked weary.

I let out a soft, sheepish chuckle then stepped closer to him and sat on the cool grass. Harry followed suit and plopped down beside me with a great, tired sigh.

I had to find out what he was thinking about. It was the least I could do after talking about myself for so long. Plus, I was genuinely interested.

"Something wrong, Harry?"

He didn't respond immediately, but I knew he'd heard me. I could feel his mind working as he plucked individual blades of grass from the damp ground, deciding whether to tell me or not, what to say and how to say it.

"I was thinking back to third year. This lake... it always makes me... reminisce. About third year," he answered carefully, taking his time to find the right words.

"Why third year?" I inquired.

He drew in a long breath, as if filling himself with assurance.

"It was the year with the dementors. Horrible things, they are. You probably remember, they were standing guard at the school. Searching for Snuffles after he escaped from Azkaban." He paused. "I mean—Sirius. Sirius Black."

Harry choked up as he said Sirius's name and turned his face away. After a moment, he cleared his throat and continued.

"Sirius and I were here... just here, lying on the ground. Dementors... everywhere. They were swarming around us, heartless, disgusting beasts in those black cloaks, swirling in the air, surrounding us."

I didn't quite understand but refrained from asking questions.

"And then, they moved closer. I could feel their cold breath... they were so close. But just then, this light. This huge light was everywhere, coming from the opposite bank, right over there."

He pointed to the small clearing across the lake.

"A Patronus. A galloping stag made the dementors vanish. My Patronus," he said, his voice barely audible. "Don't ask me how I was on both sides of the lake at the same time, it's a long and complicated story," he added, noticing my bewildered expression.

"I thought it was... this is crazy. But I thought it was my—my father on that bank. Casting that Patronus. I... I wanted..." he trailed off into uncertainty.

I placed my hand lightly on his shoulder.

"Go on, you can tell me," I urged him quietly.

He glanced at me, his sad eyes meeting mine for a split second.

"I wanted so bad for it to be my father."

I desperately searched my vocabulary for comforting words.

Yet, I felt he was done with the subject that seemed to pain him so. I couldn't bring myself to ask questions. And the only consolatory remarks I could think of were so cliché, reminding me of phrases from sappy movies; words that he's probably heard hundreds of times from people who feel they need to speak when in actuality, silence can say far more.

I can't imagine what it would be like to grow up without parents. An immense wave of pity for Harry rushed over me.

I said nothing. My hand still rested on his shoulder. I massaged it delicately in an effort to communicate that he was not alone, that I was there, willing to listen if he needed me to.

Harry spotted another sleek, elliptical rock on the ground by his foot and snatched it up. He tossed it to the lake, again with his professional-looking forehand throw, and it skipped on the water five times before sinking.

"How do you do that?" I demanded, giggling a bit despite myself.

He gathered a few more stones and stood up. I stood up as well.

"Show me how you do it," he responded, handing me a rock. His eyes had regained their usual dazzling brightness.

I flung the stone clumsily and it landed with another wet "SPLUNK".

"You amateur," Harry teased.

"Oh, shut up," I retorted, shoving him playfully.

"Here, let me help you," he laughed.

He placed another flat rock in my right hand and closed my fingers around it. He situated himself behind me and took my right hand in his. His free hand rested subtly on my waist.

"Now Ginny, it's all in the wrist."

I could feel his breath on the back of my head as he spoke.

"Bring your wrist up, kind of at an angle. Perfect. Now we'll count to three. Bring your hand forward and back with each count, with kind of a flicking motion. On three, release it."

He was so close I could feel his chin in my hair as I nodded.

"One... two... three!"

We let go together and watched the rock soar. It hit the water, skipped once, then landed and sunk.

He stepped away as I turned around.

"Better, much better," he declared, his hands on his hips.

So we practiced for, I don't know how long, laughing and teasing each other. Before we knew it, it was halfway through suppertime. We sprinted up to the castle and into the Dining Hall, breathless and doubled over with laughter.

HP & GW = ??

Until next time,
Ginny