The Cerebral Coordination of Ginny Weasley
Author: ValorOrgulloso
Rating: T
Chapter VIII: In Which the Cat's on the Table
I was terrified. My father had been attacked.
And Harry. He saw it. He saw it happen. My father was getting rescued now. I was getting transported to Grimmauld. I was terrified.
A snake. Voldemort's snake. It just didn't seem real. I flew out of the fireplace and onto the rug. Sirius caught me before I fell. He smiled grimly at me. I would have smiled at my pun (Sirius is a grim and he grimly smiled… get it?) if I wasn't so distraught.
Sirius let me go, and I waited for my three brothers and Harry to tumble out. Harry was shaking and white, and would have fallen, but I caught him just like Sirius caught me.
"Well… just sit down, and I'll go fetch some butterbeers," said Sirius promptly if a bit awkwardly, as if he didn't know how to handle the situation.
Harry clung onto me, his back sweaty when I touched it. I rubbed it for a brief moment before letting go. He grimaced at me, and followed Sirius' instructions by sitting down on the large chair that was made for two.
I hesitated to follow him, knowing I wanted to comfort him and him to comfort me, but also acknowledging that if I sat with him it would raise some very obvious questions from Ron, Fred, and George, as well as Sirius.
I sighed. To hell with it. I quietly crawled up next to Harry, hoping my brothers were as upset as I, therefore making their observations minimal. Harry glanced at me, still shaking. He seemed surprised that I took initiative and sat so close to him. He glanced up at my brothers, and I followed his gaze. Ron and Fred were sprawled across a large couch, while George nervously fidgeted in an old armchair.
We both seemed to notice that none of them were paying us any attention. I leaned up against his side, and he wrapped his arm around my shoulders. I squeezed one of my arms around his chest in a hug, hoping to soothe his shaking.
Sirius returned with the butterbeers, and he placed them down on the coffee table. He saw where Harry and I resided, and he seemed a little shocked. But he quickly got over it, and he sat in an armchair close by. I felt a shudder run through Harry, and I couldn't help but think of my dad.
It was going to be a long night.
---
I opened my eyes. My head was on Harry's chest, and, for a brief moment, I laid there listening to him breathe. I glanced at the old Roman numeral clock. It was half past four in the morning. I sighed. I sat up a bit, careful not to disturb the slumbering boy beneath me. Scanning the room, I saw Ron, Fred, and George all asleep. The butterbeers lay undisturbed on the table.
I looked to where I knew Sirius was, only to see him awake; his elbows on his knees, and his face in his hands. And, as if he sensed my gaze, he looked sharply up at me.
"Hey," I mumbled, not thinking of anything else to say.
He sighed, and he leant back in the chair. He looked at Harry, whose face was pushed up against the side of the chair, his glasses crooked, his cheek squashed.
Sirius shook his head and looked down. "He's something else, isn't he?"
It took a moment for my mind to register the words. Then: "Yeah. He is." I sighed. Harry.
"He's had a hard life," Sirius explained, it seemed, mostly to himself. "He's had it hard."
I looked down into my lap, not knowing what to say. For lack of anything better to do, I fumbled with Harry's arm that was still wrapped around my shoulders. I slowly removed it, seeing as the position it was in was very awkward. He stirred a bit as I set his arm down, mumbled a small, "Ginny," and fell back into a peaceful sleep.
I looked back up at Harry's Godfather. He was staring at Harry and me with an odd expression on his face.
"What?" I asked.
He ran a hand through his tangled, graying locks. "Just… be good to him." He paused, and I stayed silent. "Harry… Harry didn't have the childhood you did. You had a family and possessions. His – it wasn't the worst. But he wasn't loved like you were. Even if this is just a fling, please, please, please be kind to him." Sirius went back to his previous position. Elbows on knees. Face in hands.
"I will," I whispered. And, in a slightly stronger voice, "I promise."
Then came a muffled, "Good," and the conversation was over.
---
The next morning came, and news came that my father would survive. We were all so happy. It was such a relief.
But with this relief came acknowledgement. From my brothers.
It started with Ron. I was lying in the drawing room, ecstatic that I knew everything would be okay – for the most part at least.
Ron walked in, all serious like, sat down dramatically at my feet, and said, "What was with last night, eh?" He seemed hesitant and a little bitter. I sat up, having already known that this was coming. I decided to take the safe ticket and play dumb.
"What was what?" I asked innocently. I played with a lock of my short red hair.
"You know what!" Ron sighed. "You and Harry!" I raised an eyebrow. "Oh, don't play dumb!" I played dumb. "You guys have been up to something for a long while – ever since your little lovers' spat in the middle of Hogsmeade! Don't act like I don't know. I've seen your looks, your subtle brushes, the way you two disappear for hours, not to be seen until you both turn up looking worse for wear!"
I raised both eyebrows. I didn't know Ron was this smart and observant. Then I sighed regretfully in understanding. "Hermione?"
"I – what?" Ron stuttered. The question seemed to catch him off guard.
"Did Hermione point these things out to you?"
"What does it matter if she did?" Ron retorted, trying to maintain some dignity.
I smirked bitterly. Yes. She did. I knew we couldn't keep our relationship hidden forever, but I liked people not prying into my business. And, I'll admit, it was fun sneaking around, rushing into empty classrooms and snogging the brains out of that handsome fifth year boy…
"Yes, Ron. We're together," I confirmed, waiting for the inevitable Ron-is-mad saga to begin.
But it didn't. Ron just smirked a bit. "I knew it!"
It was my turn to be baffled. Is Ron… dare I say it… happy?
"You knew it?" I cried out incredulously.
"Yes! I've got to tell the twins! Oh, you're going to be teased so much." Then he left, snickering. Snickering! That little booger!
Grumbling, I went off to find Harry to tell him that our secret was out.
---
Harry was in his room. Lying on his bed. Staring at the ceiling blankly. Emotionlessly. Not good.
I knocked on the door frame to let him know I was there. He barely spared me a glance. Really not good.
I closed the door behind me as I walked over to his bed and sat on the edge of it by Harry's stomach. I poked his side a little bit. "Hey, make some room."
Harry sighed and scooted over so I could lie beside him. When I was comfortable, I asked, "So what's up?"
I felt Harry move beside me in what I assumed was a shrug. Unresponsive.
Casually as I could, I mentioned, "Ron knows."
This got a response, if a small one, from Harry. "He knows? About us?"
I nodded even if he couldn't see it. "Uh-huh. And he's going to tell Fred and George. It's out."
He sighed. "Did you tell him?"
He sounded disappointed. I hoped not in me.
"No. He just sort of knew. I just confirmed it."
"Because of last night?" He sounded angry too. Again, I hoped not at me.
"No. He's known for a while. Hermione," I tried to explain.
"Mm," Harry murmured in understanding. "Was he mad?"
I smiled a little at the change in his voice. The anger and disappointment was disappearing. "Surprisingly, no. He just told me he was going to tell the twins who were going to tease us."
He groaned a little, but went silent afterwards. I sensed Harry going back into his I'm-depressed-so-I'm-gonna-be-grumpy state, so I sat up and pulled on his arm.
"Come on," I begged. "Follow me."
He glowered at me. I tugged on his arm again.
"Oh, stop it," I complained, "I don't like it when you're unhappy. So that's why I'm here to cheer you up." When I didn't get the response I wanted, which wasn't turning his face away from me and sighing, I turned back his head, and pulled the corners of his mouth up in a mock-smile.
He irritably swatted my hands away, but his mouth twitched. I leaned down and whispered in his ear, "I didn't come up here just so my boyfriend could glare at me and pity himself." Because that was exactly what he was doing; pitying himself.
All signs of mouth-twitching smiles vanished. Now he really did glare at me. He sat up and threw his legs down on the opposite side of the bed.
"Yeah, well, when Voldemort is breaking into your mind, tell me about pity," Harry snapped angrily. The change in his mood was sudden.
I was shocked; at his tone as well as his words. I was angry and hurt. How dare he say that to me? First off, he's my boyfriend, and he shouldn't snap at me. Second off, I've been through worse.
"Well, Harry Potter, savior," I bit the word out as an insult, "of the Wizarding World. Let me tell you a bit about Voldemort and pity." I lowered my voice close to a whisper. I spoke slow and steady as to make sure he heard me although his back was turned, and he was completely still. "When you have Voldemort breaking into your mind and controlling you, then tell me about pity."
And I turned around and walked out of the room, feeling satisfied that I gave him a piece of my mind.
But it still hurt.
A/N: Drama!!! I actually like this chapter (unlike my others). I thought I was rather dramatic and awesome. Am I spelling "Grimmauld" right? I hate it when authors spell names wrong, so tell me if it's wrong! Or if anything else is spelled incorrectly!
I don't like mad-jealous-vengeful Ron, because I personally believe it's just stupid and lame. So I made his reaction better :)
Review - every single one goes towards making me a happier person!