Without Twenty-Two Days
IV. The Missing Hair Tie
(Ginny)
The fine hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end, and Ginny twisted around. Someone was watching her, but the corridor was dark and packed with two houses worth of students from her year. She searched the crowd, biting her lip, until her friend whispered in her ear.
"Potter, two o'clock."
She spotted him then, miraculously alone and roughly a head above the crowd, his hair perfectly disheveled and his glasses tipped crookedly to one side. Of its own accord, Ginny's hand flew to her hair, tucking it behind one ear, adjusting several strands over her shoulder just so. It was the stupidest habit, and she only fell prey to it when he was near.
Harry came to a stop before her, smiling blandly at her friends as they sank back to give them privacy. Then he was looking at her and doing that thing with his mouth where it slid into an easy, soft sort of slant that she'd never seen him give to anyone else before.
He must not have shaved this morning, for his jawline held more than a five o'clock shadow. Ginny wrangled her hand out of her hair and clutched at the strap of her heavy bag. It was all she could do to keep herself from reaching over and touching him somewhere, anywhere.
"Hey," he said.
"Hi." Her voice sounded foreign to her ears, high-pitched and breathless.
His eyes searched her face. For what, she did not know, but her fingers twitched, itching to feel her chin for spots, or the corners of her mouth for food, or beneath her eyes for mascara residue.
"You're staring." A cold sweat was beginning to form along the base of her neck, and she made a quick, fluttering gesture around her face. "Is there something—"
"Sorry," said Harry, and he sounded somewhat panicked. "You don't—it's fine. You're fine. Your face is fine."
Ginny nodded, kept nodding, nodded so much she would surely get a headache.
She wondered if she'd made a mistake last night at the pitch by being so forward with him. There was a slight awkwardness in his stance now, like he was unsure of her, and Ginny could curse herself for her obnoxious nature.
If they remained friends for the rest of their lives, so that she might delight in his rare, wonderful smiles and orbit in his sweet nature and fondness for her family, it would be more than enough for her. But she seemed to be ruining it all with her ridiculousness and intense longing for him. Ginny swore to herself after years of being in absolute torment in his presence that she would remain calm and easy-going when it came to Harry. Instead she felt foolish and eleven again, desperately thrusting pieces of herself right into his hands, to do with what he pleased, even if it meant breaking her.
"Sorry," Harry said again, grimacing. "I just came to… you left this at the pitch."
He shook back the sleeve of his robe to reveal a bright purple hair tie encircling his wrist.
"Oh! I was looking for that."
Without thinking, Ginny took his hand. Like magic, time slowed down as she held it, warm and large and far more calloused than hers; this split second, she knew, would remain with her forever. She blew out a breath, a weak attempt to level her frazzled nerves.
Bending close to speak into her ear, Harry said softly, "It's your favorite one, right?"
Time came to a full, sudden stop, then ran. Alarm bells blared in her head and the snitches in her belly that fluttered awake in Harry's proximity went into a wild and instant frenzy, and it was like she was tipping blindly into hysteria, unsure of what was real anymore, of what to make of this fantasy she'd been dropped into. Ginny pulled back enough to stare up at him.
When it came to the opposite sex, Ginny's one true weakness was an honest to Merlin nice guy. It had gotten her in trouble on one occasion she dared not dwell on often, but this was entirely unfair. Harry was always nice to her. Was she supposed to decipher his intentions favorably, or was this some trick her brain decided to pull?
With shaking fingers, Ginny slipped the hair tie off his wrist and on to hers. The pulse point there beat enthusiastically beneath the warm band.
"It is my favorite," she confirmed quietly, feeling small and unsure.
Every part of her was pulling and pushing and building…
Ask him. Just ask him!
Bad idea! Abort! Abort!
She searched his brilliant green eyes, felt sure he just needed a nudge, and pushed her hesitation aside to jump off the edge.
"How did you know?"
Bang!
The door to the dungeon classroom of Professor Snape flew open, rebounding off the wall and causing everyone in the general vicinity to jump a foot in the air.
"In!" said Snape, looming in the doorway. His eyes zeroed in almost immediately on Harry. "What are you doing here, Potter? Class and detention not enough for you?"
"Class and detention are both too much of you." And Harry added as an afterthought, "Sir."
"Ten points from Gryffindor!"
V. The Tell is in The Soup
(Harry)
"What the bloody hell happened to you?" Ron exclaimed through a mouthful of food.
Harry looked up from his plate, his few remaining crisps promptly forgotten. Ginny was settling across from him, her jaw wrapped in bandages and a large bow of gauze knotted crookedly atop her head. His body gave a great jerk as if to stand up and go to her, but he managed to fight the urge and play off the physical reaction by adjusting the seat of his robes.
Ginny gave her brother an annoyed look and mumbled, "I'm fine, thanks for asking."
"It's Professor Snape's fault," explained Demelza, who Harry only just noticed joined them. "Ginny took a stinging jinx to the face during a dueling exercise and fell against the corner of a desk. He wouldn't let her see Madam Pompfrey until class was over."
"Slimy git," said Ron.
Harry wholeheartedly agreed with Ron's statement, and wondered briefly how he would kill the man if the opportunity ever arose. Avada Kedavra was too quick… perhaps a push off the Astronomy Tower? But how would he get Snape up there?
"Madam Pomfrey said I'll be right as rain by tonight." Ginny looked at the scarce lunch options in a dazed sort of way. "Merlin, I'm starving."
"There's a cauldron of chicken soup by that blond-haired boy over there." Hermione tilted her head towards a group of seventh years a couple benches down. "I think he's called Pendleton. He likes you, by the way," she added.
"Me?" said Ginny, whirling around to look.
Something sour swirled in Harry's stomach as he forced himself not to glance over, too. Why did Hermione have to announce this aloud, with no warning whatsoever? No one needed to know such private information, especially him, especially Ginny. She was the last person who needed to know when a bloke fancied her, really. Absolute last.
"Makes sense as to why they've been creeping up on our lunch space lately," remarked Demelza breezily as she began piling her plate with sandwiches.
"He's pretty close with Mc—I met him at—I met him once." Red-faced, Hermione threw a cautious look at Ron. "Dumb as rocks."
"But he's cute!" said Demelza, smiling wickedly at Ginny, who scowled at her in return. "Doesn't that mouth look pleasant?"
From beside him, Ron made a disgusted noise, one Harry would have replicated if not for the sinking feeling that his best mate would react the same way if he ever found out about Harry's massive crush on Ginny.
"He's trying to see how many grapes he can stuff in it at the moment," said Ginny with a roll of her eyes. "So no, not pleasant."
"Well, what about his eyes? They're—hey!"
With a lightning quick jab, Ginny elbowed the goblet at her side. It fell over with a clank and splashed water down Demelza's side of the table and into her lap.
"Whoops," said Ginny tonelessly. "I can't believe I just did that."
Demelza quickly mopped up the mess, muttering beneath her breath about "karma" and something that sounded very much like "you'll get yours."
"While you finish cleaning that up," Ginny said, swinging her leg over the bench, "I'm just going to—"
Harry quickly stood up. "I'll go."
Four sets of eyes turned to look at him, but Harry only cared to meet Ginny's. He generally didn't go out of his way for anyone besides Ron or Hermione, and maybe it was stupid of him to show his hand like this in front of everyone—Ron especially—but it seemed right... even if his stomach was clenched with nerves at the prospect of being woefully let down by one Weasley or another.
Ginny, frozen halfway out of her seat, stared at him. "I'm sorry. Go where?"
"To get the soup for you."
"I'm not an invalid," Ginny protested.
Harry almost laughed at how madly he wanted her and the perfectly stubborn set of her bruised jaw. "I never said you were."
"You know," said Ron suddenly, looking at Harry in mild confusion, "you don't have to be nice to her."
"She's you're sister, mate, not mine," said Harry shortly.
What possessed him to say it, he wasn't sure, but the look on Ron's face was one of bemusement, at least, which was far less concerning to Harry than pure anger like he'd been expecting.
"Well, yeah, obviously," said Ron. "But what's that supposed to mean?"
"It means… it means that I'm friends with her as well as you."
Ron stared at him. A small part of Harry hoped Ron would figure it out, so that he wouldn't have to say I fancy your sister aloud like some utter prick, but Ginny broke through the not-so-private conversation before Harry made a further fool of himself.
"I'll go with you," she said.
Before Harry could utter any sort of protest, Ginny was shimming between the bench and the table. She disappeared beneath it, only to reemerge beside him a moment later. Her arm brushed against his as she righted herself, and even under Ron's long look, Harry did nothing to distance himself from her.
VI. Here's that Karma You Ordered
(Ginny)
"Oh, he's got it bad."
Ginny looked up at her friend's comment, and her gaze locked onto Harry's. He was waiting for her beside the entrance to Slughorn's classroom. The shock of seeing him there gave way to an abrupt thrill, the feel akin to taking a sharp dive on her broomstick. Her lips tugged up on their own accord, and Harry grinned broadly back at her.
"Two days in a row."
"I thought it was three."
"Did you plant the hair tie this time?"
Twisting around and walking backwards so that Harry could not see the wild look on her face, Ginny hissed at her friends, "A little louder next time?"
The girls dissolved into a fit of giggles and melded into a group of Hufflepuffs across the corridor. When Ginny turned back to face Harry, he was smirking and holding up her beloved hair tie.
"Well?" he said as she stepped up to him.
She tipped her chin up at him. "Well, what?"
"Did you plant it?"
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said, trying for innocent but failing not to grin.
She had definitely planted it.
Harry hummed in response, deep suspicion clouding the small sound, and handed it over. Ginny immediately began to thread her hair through it, unabashedly watching him watch her. The mesmerized look settling on his face had her internally screaming.
This had to be a dream. He was a dream, wild and confusing and utterly maddening. The amount of attention he'd randomly bestowed her with could not be a coincidence, and this was in no way just friendly banter, she was sure of it now. This was something else, something entirely theirs, shiny and brand new.
"You know, you didn't have to come all this way," she told him. "It's just a hair tie."
Harry shrugged, but his eyes were sparkling behind his specs. "I had a free period, and I thought you might miss it."
"I see." Finished tying up her hair, Ginny began twisting at a strand from her ponytail. She couldn't stop herself even if she tried. "You know, you never said..."
"Never said what?"
"How you knew this one was my favorite."
Harry ducked his head and scuffed a shoe across the flagstone floor, but Ginny still saw the heat that stole across his cheeks, and she wondered if this was it, if this was going to be the moment he declared his feelings for her...
It all came crashing down when she spied Dean Thomas over Harry's shoulder, advancing on them with a determined look on his face.
In a fit of desperation, Ginny grabbed Harry's arm and tugged him closer. She wished more than anything that she could savor his nearness, the gentle touch of his hand as he caught her arm, too, the warmth radiating off him, the smell of him, all fresh air and clean linen. The look of concern he bestowed her with, like he'd do anything she asked of him, almost made her want to cry.
"What's wrong?" said Harry.
"I'm sorry," she said weakly.
The angle she met him with was miscalculated in her haste, her mouth brushing the corners of his when she tiptoed up to kiss him on the cheek. A startled noise escaped Harry, and she quickly pulled away, hating that she could not linger longer. Half a second was not enough to sink into the feeling of him and her and them, together.
Damn it.
Her heart was hammering so loudly she was sure Harry could hear it, too.
As if in a fog, Harry breathed, "What's going on?"
From beneath her lashes, Ginny could see Dean storming away. Harry slowly followed her line of sight, and when he turned back to look at her, his expression was thunderous. "Is he bothering you?"
"No, not really."
Harry gave her a disbelieving look.
"Well, I mean, yeah," she huffed, "a bit, but—"
"Don't make excuses for him," said Harry indignantly.
"I've told him to bugger off, but he keeps needling me and demanding answers I shouldn't have to give him and—"
"I could kill him," Harry suggested frankly. "For you. If you want."
Ginny laughed, disturbed and yet strangely flattered.
For you.
"Don't be ridiculous," she said.
"I mean it," he responded, his tone lighter now.
"I think I've taken care of it," she said. "We can forget this ever happened."
The words rang heavier than she'd intended, and Ginny wished she could pluck them out of the hanging silence and swallow them back up. Harry's smile, already small, fell just a fraction at the corners, enough of a signal that she had upset him, fucked this all up, reversed everything they'd been working up to.
Harry nodded once, hard, mouth working itself into a grim line. "Yeah, right. Of course."
Scrambling to fix her mistake, Ginny rambled, "I mean… maybe… unless you—"
"Oho!"
Once again, Ginny and Harry were interrupted by a professor, though this time it was Slughorn. If they hadn't already attracted her every classmates' attention with the little performance she had forced Harry into, Slughorn chortling at them and remarking upon their close proximity finished the job.
"I hate to break up this tête-à-tête," said Slughorn, his large grin rounding his cheeks out even further, "but I cannot delay our class, you two! Move along now, Harry, m'boy!"
"I'll see you around," said Harry quickly, backing away from her with careful, measured steps.
Feeling uncommonly cold, Ginny hugged her arms to herself and said despondently, "Yeah. See you."