39 Guilt and Consequences.
A/N: This chapter was truly a collaboration. Thank you to the Ginny lovers discord for asking tough questions and making a bunch of good suggestions. I appreciate all your help more than you know.
It was barely 6 pm when Harry arrived at his flat with Ron and Hermione, but he could think of little else beyond collapsing in his bed. Only a large basket sitting on the coffee table, full to the brim with Mrs. Weasley's home cooking, was able to deter him. How she'd managed to have it arrive at their flat while simultaneously sitting by Ginny's bedside was a brand of magic even Harry couldn't comprehend. As he sat down with the plate Ron handed him, he realized he hadn't eaten since before entering the ritual, and by the way even Hermione attacked her food, Harry suspected that his friends hadn't either. They ate in companionable silence for a while, but now that he didn't have to watch every word he said, Harry found his thoughts going to places they hadn't while he'd been at St. Mungo's. There, he'd been mostly concerned with the horror of what he'd remembered about Kane and then making sure he didn't get away with his plans. But now that the man was safely in a holding cell at the Ministry - his nose still rather crooked after they'd called in a trainee to fix it - Harry couldn't avoid thinking about the rest.
It didn't help that Ron kept glancing at him, as if waiting for Harry to begin the conversation. He was more than a little relieved that he'd been spared the difficulty of talking about Ginny in front of her parents, but now his brain wouldn't be quiet, thinking about how many things had gone wrong and what he might have done differently. He ran his hand through his hair.
"So uhh, it sounds like the healers are confident Ginny's going to be okay. That's good. I wasn't sure, umm, when I saw her in the . . . " He trailed off, realizing suddenly that he'd been the last person to talk to Ginny.
"She was in bad shape." Ron completed Harry's thought. "So yes, it's good that things seem to be improving for her. Thanks to you getting down there in time."
"She wouldn't have been in such bad shape if I hadn't been such a prat to her in the first place." The words burst out of Harry - the guilt had been hovering in Harry's mind for longer than he wanted to admit, at least since he'd talked to Ginny during the ritual. He twisted his napkin in his hands. "I should have gone with her when she asked me to. Forget the fact that we could have shared the burden of the ritual; we probably would have realized something was off with Kane and refused to even begin it. And then she wouldn't have gotten hurt at all." He shook his head in disgust.
"Harry, your memories were a mess because what of Kane did. You didn't remember refusing to recruit Ginny a year ago but you knew there was something off about her asking you to do the same thing and your brain rebelled. You can't be blamed for that." Hermione's practical tone only made things worse.
"So you're saying it's Ginny's fault? I was able to refuse Kane for all that time so she should have been too, right? She should have known not to ask me!" Harry jumped up, ignoring the shower of crumbs from the plate of biscuits he'd been eating. He paced restlessly around the room.
"But Harry, Ginny . . ." Hermione gave Ron a distressed look and he moved closer to her on the sofa and grasped her hand. Harry nodded at them while he cut off Hermione's attempt at pacifying.
"…But Ginny was in love with me and that changed everything about how she behaved," he stated flatly. "I get it, Hermione. But I don't fucking remember anything about 'us' and that makes my behavior a million times worse. Because apparently, I broke her heart and then I nearly broke the rest of her too." Harry stopped pacing and looked at his friends. "You both told me what Kane had done, and you told me about Ginny. Maybe I don't remember that she and I were . . . what our relationship was, I mean, but I didn't disbelieve what you told me." He sat heavily in a chair. "I didn't disbelieve her either. I just didn't know what to do with it." He looked sharply at Ron and Hermione. "But it's not her fault for asking me." Harry rubbed at his eyes and wished he'd just pled exhaustion and pushed off this discussion for another day. Being inside the ritual with Ginny had been horrible, but at least he'd been able to talk to her face to face. At least this huge thing they'd apparently had between them - this thing he'd forgotten - hadn't been staring accusingly at him while he tried to make himself care. Harry wasn't stupid - he knew he should care. He should care a lot. He just didn't know how.
"I wasn't going to say it was Ginny's fault, Harry. Quite the opposite, actually." Hermione's voice was placating again. "She refused Kane's requests for months and months, practically told him to piss off the last time he asked her to try to get you to come to the Ministry. But when he made it personal, when Kane hurt you, she couldn't hold back anymore." Next to Hermione, Ron was nodding in agreement.
"You would have done the same, if the situation was reversed." Ron gave him a knowing look.
Harry threw up his hands. "Of course I would have, but that's what I always do, isn't it? Even Ginny knew about my 'saving people' thing." For a moment, Harry pushed down the thought of just how much Ginny knew a lot about him now. He shook his head. "The relationship wouldn't have mattered; we all know I'd have gone anyway."
"Maybe it didn't matter to Ginny either," said Hermione softly.
Harry didn't understand what Hermione meant. Ginny had gone into the ritual because she wanted her boyfriend back - wanted him back. The thought made him uncomfortable, but it was what it was. He didn't know Ginny well enough to believe what Hermione and Ron might be trying to tell him, that she would have gone to save him anyway, and trying to understand it made his head ache.
"If she hadn't gone and you hadn't followed her, you never would have known Kane's plans," Ron said reasonably.
"And you wouldn't have gotten that part of your memory back," added Hermione.
"I know all that," said Harry irritably. "But I can think of at least a half-dozen things I could have - should have - done differently that would avoided the fact that Ginny's still lying unconscious in the hospital. And she's going to wake up and find out that . . . nothing has changed."
His friends' silence told Harry all he needed to know. He nodded tersely at them before turning towards his room. "I'm going to bed," he said. "Thank your mum for the food when you see her tomorrow at St. Mungo's, will you?"
"You aren't coming with us?"
Harry didn't turn around when he answered; he didn't want to see Ron's face. "No, I think I'm better off . . . not. For now."
HPHPHPHP
Harry slept poorly, his sleep interrupted with odd dreams of flying through the Chamber of Secrets in his Arrows' uniform. He swooped down to pick up an 11 year old Ginny Weasley before she could get eaten by a Basilisk, only to have her turn into a mermaid as he carried her away. Mermaid Ginny gave him a saucy grin before flipping backwards out of his arms into a pond that looked a lot like the one at the Burrow, but every time Harry tried to follow her into the water, Ginny disappeared and Harry found himself flying over the Chamber alone.
He finally woke up for good around 7 am with an erection he refused to do anything about other than scare away with a cold shower. The door to Ron's room was still closed and Harry knew he didn't want to see him and Hermione before they left for St. Mungo's. They wouldn't bother him again about not coming with them and somehow, that made it worse.
Harry considered knocking on Dam's door and asking him to join in a workout, but he realized he didn't know what exactly the team knew about everything. He also wasn't sure his body was ready for a full-out run with someone else. He didn't feel dizzy anymore but still had moments of weakness or pain that forced him to sit down and rest. The healers assured him these would disappear before too long but for now, Harry decided to take it rather easy. A walk for some coffee seemed in order. Although Ron was still making coffee at the flat sometimes, he'd stopped his elaborate brewing schedule that assured a fresh, hot pot whenever anyone wanted a cup, and now the kitchen was cold and dark.
Harry trudged through the damp, gray morning, rather wishing before he was halfway down the block that he'd just stayed in bed. It was colder out than he'd realized; somehow Winter had arrived properly in the past days without him realizing it. He tried to figure out where in their schedule the team was right now and whether he might get to play before they broke for Christmas. Ron had mentioned something about talking to the Arrows about his "illness" but Harry hadn't paid much attention at the time beyond the understanding that he wasn't expected at the stadium in the immediate future.
Making a mental note to pin down exactly what was going on with work, Harry pushed open the door to the coffee shop and inhaled deeply. It was warm and bright inside, a welcome relief after the gloom of the morning. After ordering his coffee, Harry decided to sit and drink it instead of heading immediately back home. The shop was a Muggle one, cozy and anonymous, and Harry let his thoughts drift. He knew that he'd be expected back at St. Mungo's to visit Ginny in a day or two, unless she miraculously recovered before that. If he was completely honest with himself, he'd rather not go. He loved the Weasleys, of course, it wasn't that at all. But being with them for even the brief time he'd seen them at St. Mungo's had made him feel like he was on the outside of a joke he didn't understand while everyone else watched him expectantly, waiting for him to catch up. Anything he said would be analyzed for clues that he was finally remembering something, and if he was quiet, they'd talk about anything else at all, trying to show that everyone was just fine with the situation and didn't want to pressure him. It would be quite horrible, Harry knew, but avoiding a visit was out of the question. He briefly considered suggesting that he visit her alone and then just as briefly rejected the idea, because of the assumptions it would create.
Harry blew on his coffee and sighed, thinking that maybe he'd just head back home after all, when a soft sound behind him made him turn.
"Do you mind if we sit down for a moment? We promise not to bother you for long."
Katerina Bellows and her three sisters stood next to Harry's table, looking more subdued than he'd even seen them. After a moment of surprise, he nodded and gestured at the empty chairs around him. "Please."
All four of them sat down. Katerina spoke first. "We've heard what happened, "she said without preamble. She nodded at one of her sisters. "Nadia works at St. Mungo's."
Harry wasn't surprised. If anyone was going to be able to uncover the story, if was the Bellows sisters. But he didn't sense any malice in their expressions, or a teasing suggestion that he had to play by their rules, or else. They were solemn, looking anywhere but at him. Sascha twisted her hands.
"I'm so sorry, Harry," she burst out. "I never meant for this to happen, for anything I brewed to be used for . . . for . . ." she broke off, looking very close to tears. Zoya put her hand on Sascha's arm, but it was Katerina who spoke.
"We're all sorry," she said. "I know we said so when we saw you before . . . everything, but now, even more so." She shook her head to herself. "This is not what we want to be known for."
"And you won't read about any of it in the Prophet," broke in Zoya. "I can assure you of that." She was still patting Sascha's arm, and gave him an apologetic look.
"It was my fault that people started saying you were . . . unstable . . . when you left the Aurors for the Arrows," she said frankly. "I was at the Ministry the day you quit and I overheard your argument with Shepard Kane." She gave a small shrug. "It was an interesting story when it was just a fight, but it became much bigger when you joined the Arrows less than two weeks later. I just didn't realize that Kane had tampered with your memory like that." She shook her head.
"Thank you, uhh, a lot, for that," said Harry. A tiny weight he hadn't realized he'd been carrying lifted. "It's good to know that none of this is going to be made public. Ginny . . . Ginny doesn't deserve that."
At that, Sascha began crying in earnest. She looked up at Harry, tears streaming down her cheeks. "You don't . . . you don't remember her at all?"
Harry shook his head. "No, I mean, yes. I do remember her. Plenty about her. It's just . . . apparently we were in a relationship and I don't remember that." He shook his head. "You don't know how to fix that, do you?" He was pretty sure he already knew the answer.
Sascha shook her head. "Without knowing how Mr. Kane adjusted the potion he gave you, it would be too dangerous for me to try to brew and antidote." She wiped at her face with a napkin. "I always thought . . . we always thought it was all for fun. Flirt with celebrities, use our connections to to hear the gossip, write the stories, and then I'd . . . I'd help things along with a potion here or there." She put her face in her hands. "Never again," she said in a muffled voice.
Harry didn't know what to do. While the other sisters comforted Sascha, he looked at Katerina. "Thank you," he said finally. "I uhh, I appreciate you letting me know. All this."
Katerina smiled sadly at him. "Whatever we can do to help," she said. "Zoya is right; this is not what we want to be known for." She put out her hand, and Harry shook it before standing up.
"I'll, uhh, see you around, I guess," he said. Katerina nodded and gave him a real smile. "I'm sure you will. And Harry? When you get the chance, please hit Shepard Kane somewhere lower this time, will you?"
Harry smiled back. "I'll do my best.
Harry was still musing about how things had turned around with the Bellows when he entered the lobby of his building. Between the cold weather and the reformation of the most aggressive fan-witches, there was no one outside and thus no reason to avoid the front door, and Harry was nearly at the lift when he realized he wasn't alone.
Dam was sweaty and red-faced, having obviously just come from the run Harry himself had decided against. His face lit up at the sight of Harry. "Potter! Feeling better, are you?" he asked, panting slightly. "I heard that Doxy Flu is a nasty one."
Harry nodded. Doxy Flu, right. "Much better now that my fever's gone, thanks," he said, relying on the fact that Dam probably had no more idea of the true symptoms of the disease than Harry did. He looked around the lobby. "What, you didn't bully anyone else into one of your morning death runs?" he asked with a grin.
Dam grinned back. "Nah, let 'em sleep in. Last night was wild. We went to that new pub near Trafalgar Square and didn't make it home until the wee hours." He stretched. "I can hold my liquor better than the rest, you know."
Harry did know. "I'm sorry I missed it," he said. "A night out sounds pretty good about now."
Dam gave him a knowing look. "Ahh, but what use do you have with pubs?" he asked. "I'd think you'd much prefer staying home and letting Ginny nurse you back to health." He gave Harry a suggestive look. "And now that you're feeling better, well . . . " he raised his eyebrows expectantly.
Harry froze. It hadn't occurred to him that anyone outside the Weasley family knew about him and Ginny. Hell, he didn't even know how long they were supposed to have dated or who else might have seen them together. The Bellows sisters hadn't mentioned anything, but maybe the situation with Kane had distracted them. Harry tried to remember if there were any old Prophets in the flat. Maybe he could look at the old gossip columns to figure out what public knew so that he'd be prepared next time. He didn't want to ask Ron or Hermione if he could avoid it.
"Umm, yeah, Ginny's been . . . great," he said lamely. Fortunately, Dam didn't seem to notice his hesitance. He bounded into the lift ahead of Harry and bent down to touch his toes as it began to rise.
"Is she waiting for you back at your flat or are you going to hers? Need to know which end of the hallway to avoid." Dam laughed. "Although I guess the both of you are pretty good at silencing charms, aren't you?"
Ginny and I have had sex.It was a thought Harry had been trying his best to avoid even since he'd learned the truth while he and Ginny were inside the ritual. Now he faked a small coughing fit.
"Sorry," he gasped as the doors to the lift opened at their floor. "I guess I'm not as healed as I thought." He gestured down the hallway. "I'd better go lie down."
Dam nodded amiably. "You do that, Potter. And get yourself to the team trainers as soon as you're able. I'd like you cleared to play next week, if you can."
"I will," said Harry, turning away towards his door and hoping Dam didn't make any more comments about whether Ginny was waiting for him inside. "I really am feeling better. I'll let you know."
It was still quiet in the flat, and Harry was grateful for a few more moments alone. Dam's comments had rattled him. He realized that he couldn't just keep ignoring the truth about him and Ginny and hope it just went away. Too many other people were involved. He knew her family would understand, but for people like Dam and anyone else who knew, Harry was going to have to figure out a break up story or something.
He sat heavily on the couch. His coffee had gone cold - he'd forget to set a warming charm - but it didn't matter. What a colossal fuck up, planning a break up with a girl he didn't even remember dating. Didn't even remember doing a lot of things with, actually. He closed his eyes. Ginny knew, though. The thought was both discomforting and arousing. Suddenly his determination to avoid thinking of Ginny that way seemed less important. After all, she must have thought about him like that, right?
And just like that, Harry was getting hard, and this time he wanted to do something about it that didn't require an icy shower. A warm shower, however . . .
Harry set more silencing charms than normal around the bathroom as he quickly stripped off his clothes. One of his favorite daydreams - that of Ginny flying up to meet him in the middle of an Arrows' training scrimmage - was all it took. His hand worked back and forth across wet skin while his mind was in the air, watching Ginny streak towards him on her broom. Normally she'd be naked, leaping nimbly from her broom to his in mid-air to straddle his lap. This time, however, she gave him a blazing look he'd never seen before, passing by him and then looking back, urging him to follow her. Harry didn't need to be told twice. He flattened himself against his broom and gave chase, feeling the excitement building in every part of his body. Ginny swerved suddenly, diving towards the ground, and Harry dove too, eager to find out what she had planned for when they landed.
He was still in the air when he climaxed, and as his body jerked it was as if the broom did too, pulling him away and preventing him from landing next to Ginny. She looked up and gave him a sad smile as he drifted away, then shrugged and shouldered her broom.
Harry leaned against the wall of the shower, panting through the aftershocks of his orgasm. It had been one of his best yet, and found himself wishing he could have drawn it out longer. Usually he was happy to get it over with - there was always the next shower to look forward to. But the look in Ginny's eye when he'd started chasing her was new, and Harry wanted to see that again.
He sighed, drying himself off. The events of the past days were obviously playing with his mind, as if his mind hadn't been played with enough already.
Harry heard the noise of Ron and Hermione in the kitchen while he was getting dressed, and on a whim, hurried out of his room to find them putting on their traveling cloaks.
"I'll umm, I'll come with you. To St. Mungo's," he said quickly, before he could change his mind.
Both Ron and Hermione looked momentarily surprised, but masked it well. Harry was grateful that neither of them made much of his request, just nodding and waiting for him to get dressed.
He told them about meeting the Bellows while they walked to the Apparition point, and Ron told him that Robards and Camilla were going to be waiting in Ginny's room with some news. "They were going to contact you later; this will be convenient, that you're coming with us," he said.
Harry was once again grateful to his friends. And the Aurors, he supposed. Everyone had respected his wishes with respect to visiting Ginny. Gawain Robards could have very well insisted that Harry be at St. Mungo's for the meeting, and Harry appreciation grew that he'd been left alone. That it was all working out anyway made it that much better.
Even though it had only been a day or so since he'd seen her, Harry thought Ginny did look better. She seemed to be sleeping now, instead of unconscious. Arthur clapped him on the back and Molly gave him a hug and Harry was pretty sure she was going to ask him something about how he was feeling or if anything had changed, but at the last second she closed her mouth and stepped back. He suspected that either Ron or Hermione (likely Ron) had sent a quick Stinging hex or similar to stop her from saying anything about his memory.
There was no time to say anything else before Robards stepped forward and nodded at everyone to sit down. Harry sat next to Ron, feeling a strange thrill of foreboding.
He didn't have to wait long. It took only ten minutes for Robards, aided by Camilla Stalk, to explain that, after everything Kane had done over the past year, the ritual he'd planned and then thrust on Harry and Ginny hadn't even worked.
"That's good news, of course," said Robards over the murmurs of indignation and shock from around the room. "Whatever made Voldemort evil from childhood was due to a unique combination of factors that I don't think will ever be reproduced, and Kane was crazy to try it."
"Was he crazy, sir?" Harry finally asked the question he'd been wondering quietly about. He'd seen real, fanatical madness himself - Barty Crouch Junior came immediately to mind - but Kane had always been so mild, and even open about his plans.
Camilla shook her head. "He's currently being analyzed in the locked ward," she said. But so far he's been judged perfectly sane. Just very, very misguided."
"The Greater Good," said Ron suddenly. "That's what he believes in."
Robards nodded. "It sounds that way.' He grimaced. "Not to mention, it's come out that he's had a hand in manipulating the minds and memories of quite a few of us at the Ministry, myself included. He's so subtle, it usually went undetected apart from the odd headache or moment of forgetfulness here and there." He looked over at Ginny. "I'll have to apologize to her when she's back," he said. "I got a little heavy handed with her during some of our training exercises. She always called me out on it though. I think that's part of what prevented Kane's manipulations from taking hold. He was very good at inserting small ideas and thoughts into people's heads and then letting them grow with the occasional comment or suggestion."
"Removing them too," said Harry bitterly.
"So there's no change with respect to your memories of Ginny?" asked Camilla gently.
Harry shook his head, very carefully avoiding the side of the room where Molly and Arthur were. He could feel their disappointment though. "None, I'm sorry." He looked at Ginny, still sleeping quietly, and had a stab of his own disappointment too. When she did finally open her eyes, whenever that would be, there was little chance he'd get to see that blazing look from his dream. He had no idea what was needed to put it there, but it clearly beyond him, other than in his fantasies. He stood up suddenly.
"I umm, I think I'll go now," he said. He looked over at Robards and Camilla. "Unless you need me for something else?"
Robards shook his head. "Once Miss Weasley is recovered, both of you will need to give testimony, whether in front of the Wizangamot or more informally." He held up his hand. "Don't worry, anything that happens will be kept very quiet. Nothing in the papers."
Harry nodded. "I appreciate that, sir." He glanced at the bed. And I'm uhh, sure Ginny will too, when she's awake."
"Which will be sooner than they first thought," said Molly. Her eyes were red but there was no hint of tears on her face. She stood up too and ran her hand fondly over her daughter's hair. "The healers are hopeful it might be as soon as today," she said. "I'd like her to come home to the Burrow to recuperate, but I suspect she'll insist on being in her flat. Where's she closer to Ron and work and . . . other friends."
Harry swallowed, feeling the attention of everyone in the room on him. "Well yes," he said finally. "It will be good for her to be awake and home. I umm, I felt a lot better pretty quickly, once I was in my own flat." He looked at Molly. "And thank you for the food. It was delicious."
Molly waved her hand dismissively. "And there will be plenty more, of course. I'm just glad that you're both going to be okay. And that maybe . . . well, that you're both okay." She looked down and this time, Harry suspected tears. He backed towards the door.
"I'll see you at the flat," he said to Ron and Hermione. "Whatever you need from me, just let me know," he told Robards and Camilla. "I don't start playing formally for a week, but I'll hopefully start practicing sooner than that."
Robards nodded. "We'll be in touch."
It was a relief to be back in the flat alone. Harry briefly considered another shower, but decided with some reluctance that it would be rather indulgent. He couldn't quite get the image of Ginny, sleeping in the hospital bed out of his mind, and that helped keep him grounded. Instead, he went for the run he'd put off that morning, coming back sweaty and exhausted over an hour later. After managing to control himself in the shower, he ate, reviewed his Arrows' playbook, and again went to bed early. He wasn't exactly avoiding Ron and Hermione, but wasn't seeking them out for conversation either. He would, soon, he promised himself. He just needed a bit of time to himself before he got the inevitable word that Ginny was awake and coming home. When he thought about how quickly everything had happened, Harry realized it had been less than a week since Ginny had gone into the chamber, and he'd only been told of his memory loss for a few days before that. It seemed much longer, probably because in his mind, he hadn't really lost anything, so the 'before and after' was less stark. It was going to be hell for Ginny when she woke up, though, and Harry wasn't going to be able to avoid talking and interacting with her. So instead, he was avoiding it all now.
His self-imposed solitary confinement lasted only another day. The second day after he'd seen Ginny at St. Mungo's he emerged from his room for some much needed coffee to find Ron and Hermione sharing a pot and some muffins on the sofa. They were oddly silent while he walked into the kitchen for his mug, and when he came back and sat down, holding out his mug so that Hermione could pour the steaming liquid into it. He sat back and looked at his friends.
"Ginny's awake, isn't she?" he asked.
Ron nodded cautiously. "Awake, and more," he said. She actually woke up that afternoon the day you saw her. Came home last night. To her flat; mum was right that she'd insist on that. She's here." He gestured to a basket. "We're taking her breakfast soon, after she's had a bit of a lie-in." His voice dropped. "Do you, uhh, want to come with us?"
Harry knew he was too quick to decline the offer but he couldn't help it. Even though he'd known it was coming, the news that Ginny was already here, just down the hall, was disconcerting. He thought he'd have more time to prepare.
"Prepare what, Harry?" Hermione was looking curiously at him and Harry realized he'd spoken out loud. There was no use making anything up.
"Prepare to see Ginny," he said honestly. "I'm not sure what to expect, but I can't just avoid her. She's going to be upset enough already."
Hermione nodded approvingly. "Best to get the first encounter over as soon as possible," she said. "It will get easier after that."
Harry sighed. "I suppose it's too much to hope I get called away for an emergency Quidditch match that lasts a month," he said. "I know you're right though." He looked at Ron. "But not this morning, not now," he said. It was too soon, and he suspected it showed on his face.
Ron nodded. "She probably needs some space too, I imagine. My mum's likely to be sending over food for every meal for weeks. Maybe tomorrow?"
Harry nodded and promised he'd think about it as Ron and Hermione left with the basket. Then he fell back on the sofa and contemplated his half-eaten muffin. Now he had an entire day or two to figure out how to talk to Ginny and it felt like both not enough time and too much. A long run to clear his head was definitely in order. And he would not wank during his shower afterwards, of that Harry was certain. While his long time crush on Ginny still lurked somewhere beneath the surface of his being, his libido rearing up every so often, his head wasn't nearly as into it as before. Other than that one really great shower he'd taken, Harry had been increasingly self-conscious about doing anything while thinking about Ginny. He couldn't quite get it out of his head that much of this was his fault, somehow. Indulging his physical needs on top of that felt overly intrusive of Ginny's privacy.
The run he took was a long one, clearing his head and leaving him with a satisfying ache in his muscles that assured him he'd be ready for formal training with his team soon. He kept his promise in the shower and it was only after emerging that he realized he was down to his last clean towel. His running clothes were beginning to smell rather rank too. Laundry was as good a way as any to kill a couple of hours, and he loaded up two laundry bags and trudged down to the basement.
HPHPHPHP
Doing laundry had never been Ginny's favorite household chore, but then, did she actually have a favorite chore? It felt reassuringly normal though, and that was what she was going for as she floated a basket around her flat, scooping up shirts and trousers and knickers. Her mum and dad had stayed so late the night before after St. Mungo's that Ginny suspected they might have wanted to sleep over. Ginny appreciated that her mother had studiously avoided any mention of Harry, but she wasn't sure how much longer she'd have been able to manage that if she'd stayed. It had been hard enough after she wok up at St. Mungo's, hearing Harry's name in Robards' questions and the healer's comments about their health. Of course, Ginny was relieved to hear that she "seemed to be recovering as quickly as Mr. Potter," and that her color was returning to normal, just like Harry's had. And she was furious to learn the extent of Kane's actions and the utter depravity he'd shown, taking Harry's memories to force Ginny to take reckless action to get them back. When Kane had known that going into that ritual wasn't going to make them come back.
Ginny brushed an angry tear from her eye and focused on her laundry. Ron was being more than decent, offering to bring the food their mum sent to her flat without her asking. She knew she couldn't avoid seeing Harry for too long, but she needed to have her emotions in check before she went over there for dinner or something like that. While part of her had hoped for him to be on a road trip - an extended one - the more grown up part of Ginny knew that getting that first encounter over with sooner rather than later would hopefully help with the pain,
Because damn, there was so much pain. Back at St. Mungo's, Ron had told her as gently as he could that no, Harry's memory had not returned. Ginny had nodded and changed the subject and bit the inside of her cheek to keep from asking more questions, such as whether Ron or Hermione had detected any change in Harry at all. They'd have surely offered the information if he'd shown improvement, so Ginny could only assume the worst.
So she had to be prepared, before she saw him for the first time. Prepared for Harry's eyes to look through her instead of at her, and for his private, knowing grin that he'd reserved only for her to be completely absent. Sure, they'd talked a bit more personallyin the chamber, teasing about seeing each other naked, and Harry had even admitted his crush. But those had been special circumstances and Ginny harbored no fantasy that they'd be able to capture that same level of intimacy again.
She wasn't sure what Harry was thinking now. She probably could have figured it out - she knew him that well - but she couldn't bring herself to go to those thoughts yet. He hadn't been able to hide his discomfort whenever she'd mentioned something she knew about him that he thought was private. It was almost as upsetting to him as it was to her, realizing that there was yet another thing Harry did not remember about the two of them together. And she just . . . missed him. Their relationship might have been new, but it hadn't felt that way at all as easily as they'd fallen into their friendship, and then more. The fact that even the friendship had been stolen made all of this even more cruel. Of course she missed the physical too, but during her particularly bad moments, Ginny thought she would give up sex with Harry if it meant having the rest of him back.
Maybe laundry had been a bad idea; there was too much free time for her thoughts. She could have curled up with her Auror's training manual instead; she'd be working from home for a week while she finished recuperating, and despite the fact that the was now the only trainee who'd faced Voldemort twice, she still didn't want to get behind.
She was carefully separating her darks from her lights, trying to remember the slightly different spells needed to wash each, when the door to the laundry room swung open and Harry walked in with a bag slung over his shoulder.
They both froze, staring at each other, and for one moment Ginny thought Harry was just going to turn around and walk back out. But then he took a deep breath and nodded, whether to Ginny or as encouragement to himself, Ginny wasn't sure.
"Hi Ginny," he said. He walked in and swung his bag of laundry onto a table. "Ron told me you were home from St. Mungo's. I was glad to hear you recovered so quickly." His tone was formal and he was looking at the wall over her head instead of at her as he spoke. After a moment, he bent over his laundry and started separating it.
"You too . . . Harry," Ginny responded. His name felt awkward on her tongue. She watched his bowed head, and decided to get one thing over with right away. "If I didn't say it while we were in the chamber, thank you. For . . . coming after me." She'd almost said for saving me. Harry's head flew up and he finally looked at her.
"It was mostly my fault you were there in the first place," he said, guilt etched on his face. He grimaced. "I mean, that you were there alone for so long by yourself. The healers said that's why it was worse for you than me." He seemed to run out of words then, turning back to his clothes and carrying an armful of what looked like underwear and bedding to a washer.
Before Ginny could completely process what Harry had said - of course he felt guilty - he turned around again.
"I should have known you'd go. Even though I didn't . . . and I still don't . . ." Harry broke off, twisting a wash cloth in his hands. Ginny gripped the edge of her basket to keep herself from walking over to him. "I didn't understand at first why you'd bother . . . after refusing Kane all year, I mean. Hermione told me that you were, that you are, ummm . . ." Harry took a deep breath. "I should be the one thanking you."
The formality in his voice was back and it broke Ginny's heart a little more. He'd needed Hermione to explain why she hadn't hesitated to go to Kane alone. Her answer was more emotional than she intended.
"Even if you don't remember, Harry, I do. I'm not going to give up that easily on us because trust me, it's worth it. We'reworth it. And one way or another, I'll help you see that."
Ginny wondered if she'd gone too far. Harry was staring at her like he'd never seen her before and she realized belatedly that it was probably more than a little disconcerting to hear talking about their relationship with so much passion when all he remembered of Ginny was that she was mostly irritated with him. And that he had a teenage crush on her, which was likely only adding to his discomfort. She softened her voice.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get so riled up," she said. "I know this isn't . . ."
"It's okay . . ." Harry began. Ginny held up her hand and Harry closed his mouth again.
"Don't," she said. "It's not okay, but I have to accept that, for now at least. And I promise not to push you about it again. I'll give you space." It hurt as much as anything to watch some of the tension leave Harry's face at her words, but she knew she'd pushed him too far.
Harry was nodding. He finished loading his washers and tapped each with his wand to get them started. Ginny rushed to catch up; she knew that Harry wouldn't stay in the laundry room waiting for the cycle to end and she wanted to be able to ride back up in the lift with him at least. Harry grabbed up his laundry bag, but instead of leaving immediately, stopped. Ginny stayed quiet, carefully focused on her own tasks.
"I was thinking," he said finally. Ginny looked at him then. He was rocking back and forth on his feet, a sure sign he was nervous about something. She waited.
"We should come up with a story," he said in a rush. "To explain why we're not together to people. Tell them we broke up. I think there will be fewer questions that way."
Ginny felt the air fly out of her lungs. Dam was the only person aside from her family and the Aurors who knew about her and Harry and about his memory loss, and none of them needed to be fed a fake story. Ron had been managing Dam with Confundus charms and Ginny had assumed they could just tell him the truth now that she and Harry were both home. He'd be understanding, she knew. Hell, he'd probably do everything he could himself to get her and Harry back together. But Harry didn't know any of that. It was easier for him to think about breaking up - it would take off the pressure of pretending. For Harry, at least. He'd have no trouble acting like they weren't together any more. Ginny nodded around the lump in her throat, all thoughts of sharing the lift with Harry gone.
"Good . . . good idea," she managed. She turned back to her washer and pointed her wand at it more harshly than was strictly necessary. "I'll umm, I'll let you tell Dam then okay?" she eased up her grip and got the machine running properly, but still didn't turn around. "He's the only one who knows. From the team. So it should be easy." She couldn't say anything else. It was quiet behind her but she knew Harry hadn't left.
"Okay," he said finally. "Good. I'll umm, I'll do that, as soon as I see Dam." There was more silence. Ginny walked over to her second washer. She heard Harry moving around behind her.
"I'll see you around," he said. "Your mum sent over a lot of food."
Ginny nodded, back still to him. "See you, Harry," she said. She just wanted him out of there. After another moment, she heard the door to the laundry room open, and then she was finally alone.
HPHPHPHPHP
Harry walked to the lift, not sure what he'd done or said to get Ginny so upset. Of course, the entire encounter had been awkward and uncomfortable, but at least they'd gotten their first meeting out of the way, right? He was still deep in thought when he got to the lift and only belatedly realized Dam was there, holding a bag of take-away.
"Still won't send out your wash, will you Harry?" he said with a grin. He nodded at the bag. "Let me guess, you're doing Ginny's too, like a good boyfriend."
Harry swallowed. Here was the perfect opportunity to tell Dam that actually, he and Ginny had broken up. That yes, it was a little uncomfortable, but they were both adults and handling it okay. And that Harry was really looking forward to coming back to play with the team. But the hurt on Ginny's face he'd seen in the laundry room flashed across his mind and he found himself unable to say the words. He nodded at the bag instead. "Smells good, is that from the new place down the street?"
HPHPHPHPHP
Ginny sat in the laundry room until her clothes were dry and then, once back in her flat, decided that a proper scrubbing of the place was in order. Merlin knew, she hadn't given the place a real cleaning since she'd moved in. She pulled down Mrs. Beeton's manual from the back of one of her shelves where she'd tossed it immediately after her mum had given it to her, and got to work.
An hour later the flat was clean of dust and the streaky windows were shining and Ginny had moved on to attack all the piles of stuff that seemed to have accumulated around the small space. She'd gathered up random books, knick-knacks, the errant cup and silverware, and whatever clothing hadn't made it to the laundry and piled it on her coffee table, determined to get it organized before she stopped to eat.
A knock at the door interrupted her. Assuming it was Ron, she didn't bother getting up, but flicked her wand to open it. "Come on in," she said, focused on her pile. Something lacy and red poked out from under one of her old trainers and she pulled it out just as a sound of surprise made her finally look up.
It wasn't Ron who'd entered, but Harry. He was holding a couple of towels Ginny didn't recognized and staring at the bra she was holding, a blush climbing his cheeks.
"That's . . . that's Katerina's isn't it?" he asked. "From that night I umm . . ." he broke off and turned even more red.
Ginny frowned at the bra. "It is," she agreed slowly. "I knew it must still be around here somewhere. She looked carefully at Harry. "You remember that?" she asked.
He shrugged, then nodded. "My hazing night, yes," he said. He walked a little further into her flat and the door swung shut behind him. "You took care of me that night, right? Even though you didn't want to."
Ginny's initial hope that Harry was remembering something new flickered out. She tossed the bra into the pile of things she was throwing away. "I didn't mind that much," she said.
"I'm sorry I don't really remember," he admitted.
"Don't apologize," she said. After thinking over everything from the laundry, Ginny knew it had to be said. "It's not your fault and it's not fair of me to expect you to remember things . . . to have feelings for things . . . that are gone. So don't." She gave him a frank look and after a moment, Harry nodded in agreement.
"But maybe you can tell me why you're here?" She stood to arrange several books on her shelf.
Harry didn't answer immediately. He was staring at her, and Ginny realized she had on one of his old Arrows training jerseys. He'd given it to her after she'd swiped it off his floor, to put on over her knickers telling her that he'd like the way her arse peeked out of the bottom when she bent over. She was wearing sweatpants with it now, and by the confusion on his face, Ginny knew Harry wasn't remembering her knickers. After a minute he shook his head and held out the towels.
"Are these yours? I found them in the laundry room when I went to get my clothing."
Ginny knew they weren't but she walked over and made a show of checking them anyway. When she knew she'd stood close to him for a bit too long, she finally shook her head. "Not mine," she said finally. "But thanks for asking."
Harry nodded, looking at the flat. "So, you're cleaning, huh? That's going to make your mum happy."
Ginny gave a small snort. "Or make her fall over in shock," she said. She pointed her wand at the kitchen. "There's biscuits there if you want."
"We have some too," he said. He walked over to her pile of stuff and picked up a stuffed Gryffindor lion. It roared and he dropped it quickly. "Fred and George?" he asked.
Ginny laughed again, feeling a bit of tension ease. "Of course. They have all kinds of magical creatures," she said. She put the lion on her shelf too. "I didn't realize I'd accumulated so much junk.
Harry grinned back at her and dug into the pile again. "Let's see," he said. He looked around and pulled out something that seemed to be made of a lot of folded paper. "What the hell is this?"
HPHPHPHPH
Harry told himself that Ginny's cleaning frenzy had nothing to do with his own decision to straighten up around his flat. He and Ron were typically lax about their housekeeping but generally managed to remember enough spells and charms to keep the place in semi-decent shape. Events of the past weeks had left the place a bit more worse for the wear, and Harry trudged into the kitchen to find their own copy of the same Mrs. Beeton's that Ginny had been using. Getting the sticky counters and crumby floor to shine was simpler than he'd anticipated, and Harry grinned wryly to himself as he wondered if Aunt Petunia's hatred of everything magical would extend to the ability to out-clean all her neighbors with almost no effort.
Unfortunately, the ease of the household charms did little to distract Harry from remembering the look on Ginny's face as he'd left her flat. He'd thought they'd been getting along just fine; it had't been nearly as awkward as in the laundry room, at least. He still wasn't exactly sure what had gone wrong, after all, it wasn't like Ginny didn't know about Harry's memory loss. He couldn't have been expected to understand whatever it was about that toy - that paper penis? - from Fred and George that had made her upset. Was it that he had remembered snogging Katerina? He couldn't be blamed for that either, he reasoned. He had no control over what he remembered and what he didn't - Ginny had told him that herself, hadn't she? It didn't stop him from feeling bad about it though. Now that it was looking more and more like Harry's memories might not be returning, he'd thought he and Ginny were doing well at getting past the awkwardness of a history he didn't remember and becoming something that approached a real friendship. True, it was still a bit disconcerting whenever Ginny dropped a bit of personal knowledge about him that he didn't remember sharing, but he'd come to the decision that it was her right to have those memories. Since she'd had to give up so much else, that is.
But now it felt like they'd taken a step or two back and Harry wasn't sure what to do about it. He was sure Ron and Hermione would try to reassure him, but he'd involved them enough already and this was something he suspected he'd need to fix with Ginny himself. She probably just needed a little time, he reasoned.
Kitchen and sitting room were both as straight and clean as Harry'd ever seen them as he walked down the hallway to tackle his bedroom. Truthfully, the bathroom probably needed more attention but he wasn't that crazy. And it made sense to go through his things before having to pack up for his first road trip with the Arrows since all this began. He needed his winter-weight practice clothes now, and they were somewhere in the very back of his closet. Sighing to himself, Harry decided he'd better start emptying things out by hand instead of by magic; it was a bigger mess than he'd thought. The practice clothes weren't in the first two armfuls Harry pulled out and dumped on his bed, and when he delved back in for a third, his hand met something large and solid he couldn't place. One good tug revealed a framed copy of Harry's official team photo - the one where they'd had to remind him to smile halfway through. Harry looked at it curiously, wondering how it had ended up in the back of his closet. The last time he'd seen it, it had been on the wall of his sitting room where Dam had hung in as a way to keep track of how many girls Harry had sex with his first year on the team. Dam had been getting on his case ever since to have the thing reveal the Harry had gotten some action.
Shrugging to himself, Harry carried the poster over to lean it against his bed. He'd figure out what to do with it later. He was about to dive back into his closet when a noise behind him made him pull out his wand and whirl around. The poster was glowing, and when Harry took a step closer, it began to speak.
HPHPHPHP
Harry walked down the hall to Ginny's flat in something of a daze. The poster was awkward in his arms but he couldn't think of any other way to explain. He leaned it carefully against the wall before he knocked on her door, hoping it would wait until they were inside before it decided to say anything else. It had certainly said enough already.
Ginny had apparently finished her flat-cleaning and taken a shower after Harry had left. She answered the door no longer in Harry's old Arrows shirt, and the pajamas she wore instead were flecked with drops of water from her hair. She looked at Harry with an expression that was somewhere between wary and curious. "Harry?"
He couldn't wait, but grabbed the poster and held it up, walking past Ginny into the flat. "Have you seen . . . do you know what this said?" he asked.
A/N 2: Yes, I absolutely meant to end this here. And I'm not sorry.