A/N: "I can't wait to update more often!" Kayla said, and then months and months passed before she posted another update.
Um... Oops? I know, I know, I know, enough with the excuses! I really am sorry about that long time of no updates. A lot was going on! New job, lots of overtime, Halloween (a very busy time for a seamstress), Thanksgiving (a very busy time for a hungry person), Christmas (a very busy time for a person obsessed with giving handmade gifts...). It just kind of got away from me. Am I going to promise that I won't let it happen again? No. I won't. But I WILL promise that I will try harder. And, to be totally, completely honest here... comments? They help me. They really, really do. I will never be the type of person who will complain about not getting comments because that's not my style, and I'm very grateful that people read this at all! But I will admit that leaving a comment (even a short one!) is a way of encouraging me to keep writing. I'm going to keep writing no matter what because I enjoy it, but! I really like comments because I like hearing about what you guys are liking, not liking, etc.! And it makes me excited to continue!
Anyways, I hope I haven't lost many of you in my long absence. If you are still here, thank you! I am going to try to be better. Promise.
"How do we already have this much homework? It hasn't even been a full week back yet," Ginny groaned, staring down at the parchment with only a few sentences jotted down onto it.
"Seventh year. N.E.W.T.S.," Hermione muttered without glancing away from her own parchment, scribbling down words furiously. Ginny set her quill down and brought her hands up to her eyes, rubbing them while stifling a yawn.
"Hey Ginny," came a voice next to her, and she looked up, blinking a few times, her vision slightly blurry from rubbing her eyes, to see a fourth-year whose name she didn't know. "I hear you're Quidditch captain this year. When are you gonna have try-outs?"
"It hasn't even been a full week back yet," she groaned again, letting out a long sigh. "I'm not sure. Soon."
The fourth-year seemed satisfied enough with that answer, and left Ginny and Hermione at their table in the common room.
"Are you okay?" Hermione asked, finally looking up from her homework. "You look exhausted."
"I haven't been sleeping very well," she admitted.
"Nightmares?" Hermione sounded concerned. Ginny shook her head.
"Not really. I mean, yeah, sometimes, but no worse than usual. I just can't fall asleep for ages, and then when I do, I can't stay asleep. And it's frustrating because I'm so tired for some reason."
"Maybe you should see Madam Pomfrey, she suggested.
"Yeah, maybe," Ginny sighed, looking at her homework again. She could barely even remember what the assignment was. "I think I'm just going to finish this tomorrow."
"Are you sure? It's early to start getting behind…," Hermione warned.
"It's fine," Ginny assured her, rolling up her parchment and gathering her books. "I'm gonna try to get some sleep."
"Okay. Good luck!"
"Thanks," she smiled, and began to head towards the dormitories. She changed into her nightgown and laid in her four-poster bed, staring up, feeling extremely tired and wide awake at the same time.
She missed Harry. She missed him so much that her entire body ached from it. She knew that it would get easier. She had grown too used to being with him every day. It would get easier. But for now, she just wanted to be wrapped in his arms, smelling his scent - earthy and warm. She wanted to hear his voice and his laugh, and to see his face and his eyes, and to taste his mouth on hers.
"You're being pathetic," she said out loud to herself. She rolled onto her side, closing her eyes. Eventually, she fell into yet another night of fitful sleep, leaving her feeling just as exhausted as if she hadn't slept at all.
…
"I'm worried about holding Quidditch try-outs."
"Why is that?"
"I'm basically assembling a brand new team here. You know, it wouldn't be so awful if I only needed to fill a few spots, but it's the whole team. And then we have to actually be able to work as a team, and what if I pick people who play great at the try-outs, but don't work well with the rest of the team? What if I choose people who… who…," she trailed off.
"Are you worried that your captaincy may come into question if you don't assemble the very best team, even under difficult circumstances?" Simone asked her.
"Well...yeah."
It was Ginny's third visit to Simone. So far, they hadn't discussed anything too heavy, and Ginny was finding that she didn't mind talking to her. She was easy to talk to. She listened, she asked the right questions, and said the right things. Ginny understood that this was Simone's job and that she was very good at it. She still wasn't ready to open up about more serious things, and she wasn't sure when she would be, if she would be, but she was finding that her counseling sessions were not as awful as she thought that they might be.
"Okay, say that your team isn't great. What is the worst case scenario?"
"We're rubbish. We lose every match. People are disappointed in me. And I don't…"
"You don't what?" Simone pried.
"I haven't really told anyone, but…," Ginny took a deep breath in. "I've been thinking about my future a lot, especially since I'm in my seventh year, and that's what we're supposed to do. But… I think I want to pursue Quidditch. Like, as a career. And I'm worried that if I choose a bad team, then it might ruin my chances of getting on a professional team next year. If I'm the captain of a rubbish school team, why would a professional team want me?"
"Your worries are valid," Simone told her. "Your concerns are about your future, which makes sense. But I think that you should take it one step at a time. First focus on building your team, and then focus on training them. You may find that you don't have anything to worry about, and if you do, then you can worry about it when the time comes."
"Yeah…," Ginny said.
"I know, it's much easier said than done," Simone said, and Ginny nodded in agreement. "But if you find even the slightest bit of success, I think that it will help."
"I just feel like I have so many more responsibilities now than I ever have before," Ginny admitted, speaking candidly for probably the first time since meeting Simone. "And I'm having a difficult time keeping up with everything."
"Are you feeling overwhelmed with your classes? Or is it more to do with things happening outside of your classes?"
"I don't know," she said. "Everything, I guess. Classes, quidditch, worrying about… everyone."
"Who are you worrying about?"
"My mom. My brother... . My brother, George, he… he's the one who lost his twin… I mentioned that once, I think…."
"Yes, you did," Simone nodded.
"But I don't want to talk about that," Ginny added quickly. "I don't want to talk about Fred yet."
"Okay. That's fine," Simone assured her. "Is there anyone else who you're worried about?"
"Harry," she said softly.
"Harry?"
"Yeah. My boyfriend."
"You hadn't mentioned a boyfriend."
"I know. I did that on purpose. I didn't think that I would want to talk about him."
"But you do?"
"I don't know. I don't know if I should."
"Why is that?"
"He's…," she paused, trying to figure out what she wanted to say. "I might feel badly talking about him to somebody that he doesn't know, because… because he's Harry Potter and he hardly has any privacy as it is, and… I don't know."
"Oh," Simone said, unable to hide her mild surprise for a brief second, but immediately returning to her professional self. Ginny pretended not to notice her surprise. "Are you concerned that by telling me things about him, it will be an invasion of his privacy and perhaps a betrayal of his trust?"
"Yes," Ginny said, surprised at how accurate she was and how easily she put it. "Exactly."
"Does he know that you are in counseling?" Simone asked her.
"Yes," she nodded. She had mentioned it in one of her last letters to him. He had responded, telling her that he thought that it was a good idea and that he was proud of her for going for it.
"Maybe you could ask him if it would be okay for you to talk about him during our sessions," she suggested. "That way, if you know that he doesn't mind, you will be able to speak freely knowing that you aren't breaking any sort of trust."
"He'll say that it's okay. I know that he will. That's just the kind of person that he is," Ginny said, smiling slightly. "But I would like to know for sure. Yeah. I'll do that."
…
Harry,
I miss you. Have I said that enough lately? Have you grown tired of me saying it? Too bad, because I will probably say it again at least ten more times before the end of this letter. (I miss you! - Number two.)
Have the other people at auror training calmed down around you at all yet? I don't know how you can handle that at all. If you've gone this long without hexing one of them yet, then I must say that you are a much stronger person than I could be. (Miss you! - Number three.) Although, I'm sure any one of them would be honoured to be hexed by you, so maybe that's not actually a very good idea.
Seventh year classes are exhausting. I would tell you that you're lucky that you didn't have to take seventh year classes but… circumstances… not great. If it wasn't for Hermione, I'm not sure how I would be surviving at all. I used to think that you and Ron were such leechers when it came getting Hermione's help with homework, but I take it back. I get it. I completely understand now. (Hey, I miss you! - Number four.) I'm holding quidditch try-outs soon. How in the world am I supposed to find a seeker that compares to you, Potter? You've really ruined me for other seekers, I must say.
Still waiting for news of a Hogsmeade trip. I can't remember when the first one usually is, but it feels like it should be around now, right? Or maybe I've just made that up because I miss you (number five!) and am anxious to see you again.
One last thing. You came up during my counseling session today, but I was hesitant to talk about you very much to somebody that you don't know but who obviously knows who you are. I know that you hardly get any privacy as it is, and as Simone put it, it would feel like I was invading your privacy and betraying your trust. She told me that I should ask you if it would be okay if I talked about you during sessions, that way I wouldn't feel guilty if I knew that you were okay with it. I would never reveal any of your secrets, of course, but you are a pretty important part of my life, and it's hard to talk about my life without talking about you.
I guess that's all. Hermione says hi. Give everyone my love.
I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you, I miss you.
I am going to go throw up over how sappy I'm being.
I miss you.
Ginny.
…
As September rolled into October, it brought with it several days of heavy rain, which only let up for short periods of time for nearly two weeks. It also brought a wave of illness over the students that seemed to spread throughout most of the school within a matter of days. Madam Pomfrey was busy at work handing out remedies as fast as she could. Hermione was one of the unlucky ones who had fallen ill, missing an entire day's worth of classes, and Ginny had to struggle to do her homework on her own.
Ginny had scheduled quidditch try-outs in the thick of it all. She had reserved the quidditch pitch long in advance, and she wondered if she should reschedule, but she went ahead with it anyways, despite her doubts.
By the time she made it down to the quidditch pitch, she was already soaked from head to toe, completely out of breath, her insides squirming around uncomfortably. Thus far, she had evaded the sickness, and refused to fall victim to it now. A number of Gryffindors were already there, most of them looking miserable and wet.
"Listen up," Ginny called, once she was sure that everybody who was going to come was there. There was a surprisingly large turnout, despite the circumstances. "If you can impress me in this weather, then I have no doubts that I will want you on the team. I know this isn't exactly ideal, but conditions during matches won't always be ideal either. So just do your best, okay?"
"Why couldn't you just postpone try-outs?" a grumpy second-year girl called out over the sound of the pouring rain.
"Because this is when I scheduled them, so this is when we're doing them," Ginny replied, not even trying to suppress her agitation. "So, let's get to it."
It was abysmal. There were a few people who stood out, but for the most part, Ginny couldn't imagine wanting to put nearly any of them on her team. And as try-outs wore on, things seemed to be getting even worse.
"Okay, let's call it a day," Ginny announced once everybody had had a go. "I have a lot of thinking to do, and I'll let you know once I've made some decisions."
If she made any decisions. She had already resigned to the fact that she was going to need to hold a second day of try-outs. She knew she should have just postponed. It was all a waste of time. She watched as the others marched back up towards the castle, but she hung back, hardly feeling the drops of rain falling on her face. Her hands were entirely numb from cold, and her feet were beginning to sting from being in wet shoes for so long. She didn't care, though. An overwhelming feeling of sadness suddenly swept over her, and she had the strongest urge to cry. She fought it, though. She didn't know where it was coming from. Her head was pounding, and her eyes were burning, and seemingly out of nowhere, a sob escaped from her, and she was crying. She reached a hand to hastily wipe tears from her face, although it made no difference. Her entire face was wet, her hands were wet, wiping away tears was useless.
And then she was angry. Angry at herself for crying, angry at the weather, angry at everything that she could think of to be angry about. She forced herself to stop crying, squeezing her eyes shut to stop the tears. She took several deep breaths, and then began to trudge through the mud back to the castle. Even though she was freezing and numb, by the time she made it to the entrance, she felt hot, too hot, her heart thumping wildly against her chest, her stomach churning, and before she even made it inside, she knew that she was going to vomit.
She sprinted to the nearest girls' bathroom, throwing open the door, barely managing to close the stall door, and she fell onto her knees, and she threw up. Her nose was burning, her eyes were stinging, and her throat felt raw. She threw up again. A puddle formed on the floor from her wet clothes where she knelt.
The bathroom was empty aside from her, and she was grateful for that. She sat there, her forehead resting against the cool porcelain of the toilet, willing herself not to think of how unsanitary it was. She heard the indiscernible sound of voices growing louder, and they became clear as the bathroom door opened.
"It was so pointless," a girl was saying, and Ginny thought that she recognized the voice. "I don't understand why she didn't just postpone."
"I don't think I would even want to play for a captain who would do that," another voice replied. "Honestly, she kind of seems like a bitch."
"You know she's dating Harry Potter?"
"No way. Her? And him? Together?"
"Yeah. I know, right?" the girl said, her voice heavy with disgust. Ginny realized how she recognized the voice. It was the same girl who asked her why she hadn't postponed try-outs.
"How do you know?"
"Eliza said she saw them together on platform nine and three-quarters. Apparently a load of people did. Hugging and kissing…."
"Gross."
"Yeah. And Eliza also told me that she heard that they dated a couple years ago, too. I think he ended up dumping her, though."
"Well, duh. Like she would dump him? Ha!"
"Right?" the girl laughed.
"But how did she manage to get him back?"
"Wouldn't be surprised if she used a love potion."
"Oh my gosh, she had to have. There's no other way!"
"He could do so much better."
"He could have any girl he wants. Honestly. Any girl. Why would he choose her?"
Ginny flushed the toilet, standing up, and exiting the stall. She watched as both girls noticed her reflection in the mirror, and froze, horrified looks on their faces. Ginny said nothing to them and she moved to the sink, washing her hands. The silence was thick and heavy, and as she turned off the sink, Ginny glanced towards them, both of them completely avoiding looking in her direction. There were a number of things that she wanted to say to them. She could feel the blood boiling inside of her. But she said nothing. She simply turned and left the bathroom in silence.
By the time she made it to the Gryffindor common room, most of her anger had subsided. She was still mildly upset, but she had calmed down a lot. She changed out of her wet robes and found Hermione sitting near the fire, working on homework.
"How were try-outs?" she asked when Ginny sat next to her.
"Shit," she said simply. Hermione frowned briefly, but then her lips raised into a small smile.
"Well, I know something that will make you feel better."
"What?" she asked, doubtful that anything could make her feel any better at all.
"Hogsmeade trip. Next weekend."
Ginny was wrong. She suddenly felt a lightness inside of a her, a giddy feeling, excitement. She grinned. She was going to see Harry. Soon.
"Have you already written Ron?"
"Yeah. I'm sure he'll pass the news along to Harry."
"Thanks. I do feel better now," Ginny smiled. And it was true. She didn't even feel sick anymore. The wave of nausea had passed, and as the common room fire began to warm her, she began to feel comfortable and relaxed. She would be seeing Harry soon. Everything was alright.
…
"It bothered me more than I wanted it to," Ginny sighed, looking down at her fingernails. "Obviously, I know that people are going to talk about me. Especially in relation to Harry. I know that. I've known that. I didn't think it would bother me, because I know that they… they don't know me, they don't know him, they don't know us together… But for some reason, when I heard them talking about me, it really, really bothered me. And I don't know why."
"Did you tell anyone else about what you overheard?" Simone asked. "Hermione?"
"No," Ginny shook her head. "I was going to… because I knew that she would kind of understand. But I didn't."
"I know that you like to keep a lot of things to yourself. I believe that you worry about burdening other people with your troubles if you show any signs of not keeping yourself completely together. But I also believe that your friendship with Hermione is strong, and that she can understand a lot of the things that you're dealing with."
Ginny nodded. She was right. Of course she was right.
"You are carrying around a lot. Your own worries and troubles, as well as the worries for the troubles of others."
Ginny nodded again. Earlier during the counseling session, she had told Simone that Harry had no problem with her discussing him. She had told her that she was worried about him, the way that she would find him sitting in a daze, how he slept with his wand close by, how he startled easily. She asked Simone about post-traumatic stress disorder. It sounded like him. Simone asked her if she was ready to discuss her worries for George, and subsequently, talk about Fred. She said no.
Ginny knew that they were nearing the end of their session. She felt the urge to say things, things that she knew that Simone wanted her to talk about, things that she knew that she needed to talk about, but like she had done in the previous session as well, she held back. She wasn't ready yet. She looked at Simone's walls, as she usually did when there was a moment of silence. And, as usual, her eyes landed on the unsettling poster with the red handprints and the white etching.
"Can you tell me more about Macbeth?" Ginny asked, having been curious for a while. Simone raised her eyebrows, showing slight surprise.
"What about it?"
"When you first told me about it, you said that… he goes to great lengths to become king," she said, her eyebrows furrowing. "What kind of great lengths?"
"He kills people," Simone told her without hesitation. Ginny nodded. That was what she had expected. "He and his wife. His wife, however, feels badly about it, especially after Macbeth kills children. You see, the Macbeths have recently lost a child. They are sad. They try to fill the emptiness in their lives with power, but it doesn't work."
"Does Macbeth feel badly about killing people?"
"Yes. At first. But I believe he loses the ability to feel anything at all. His main focus is power. He loses sight of anything else."
"Oh," Ginny frowned. "He doesn't feel… He wants to have the most power…. He sounds an awful lot like…."
"Yes," Simone nodded. "He does. Macbeth was much more human than he was, though. Although, in the end, they both met the same, very human fate."
"Sometimes death doesn't seem like it was enough," Ginny mumbled.
"What do you mean by that?" Simone asked.
"I don't know," Ginny said quickly. She felt Simone's eyes on her, but she didn't meet them. There was something about Simone's eyes, their slight bulge and bright blueness, kind and soothing. It was in that moment, as Ginny avoided looking at her, that she realized that she trusted her. She was comfortable with her. She'd had doubts that she ever would be at all, and now it had happened much sooner than she thought it would. Finally, she looked up at her.
"I want to be ready to talk about the war… But I don't think I am. I don't know when I will be."
"That's okay," Simone told her. "We will get there."
…
The rain finally died down. Ginny filled three spots on the Gryffindor quidditch team and scheduled another day of try-outs to fill the remaining spots. The week leading up to the first Hogsmeade trip went by excruciatingly slow. But finally, it arrived. The sun was out, the ground was dry, and only a slight chill hung in the air.
Ron and Harry had agreed to meet Hermione and Ginny at The Three Broomsticks, and the entire walk there, Hermione kept going on about how the boys had better not be late. Ginny laughed at her, though, and she couldn't help but notice that Hermione's hair looked exceptionally shiny, and she thought she even noticed a tiniest bit of mascara on her eyelashes.
"You look really pretty," Ginny told her.
"Oh," Hermione smiled shyly. "Thank you."
She spotted them as soon as they entered The Three Broomsticks. They were at a booth, seated, and Ron was saying something, and Harry was nodding along. There were four mugs of Butterbeer atop the table. She caught Harry's eye from across the room. He grinned. And then Ron turned, also seeing them.
Ginny wished that nobody else was around. She wanted nothing more than to kiss Harry in a way that she only would if they were completely alone. And as their arms wrapped around each other and she breathed in his scent, and felt his body against hers, she wanted every single bit of him. Their kiss was quick, a simple greeting, although it was full of the longing for more. They pulled away from each other. Hermione greeted Harry with a hug. Ginny nodded towards Ron.
"Ronald," she said.
"Ginevra," he returned, holding out his hand. "Nice to see you."
"Likewise," she said, grasping his hand and shaking it. They both laughed, and he pulled her in for a brief hug.
They sat. They drank their Butterbeers. People stared at them. They ignored them. Ginny and Hermione talked about school. Harry and Ron talked about auror training and home. After they had finished their Butterbeers, Ron and Hermione went off together, and Harry and Ginny walked along outside, hands clasped together.
"I like this," Ginny said, reaching a hand to touch Harry's jawline, the shadow of hair darker than she'd ever seen it.
"Yeah? It's mostly a result of laziness," he admitted with a laugh.
"It looks good on you," she told him.
"Well then, maybe I'll keep it."
They had walked pretty far along, out of the busy areas of Hogsmeade and into the less populated places. Harry stopped walking rather abruptly, and turned towards Ginny.
"What?"
"Nothing. I would just really like to properly kiss you, if that's okay."
"Absolutely."
And then his hand was on her face, and their lips were pressed together, and Ginny liked the way that his new facial hair felt against her skin. She wanted to know what it felt like other places, against her breasts, between her legs. Her hands gripped at his arms, holding him as close to her as she could. His hands were in her hair, his tongue in her mouth, and there was an all-consuming, uncontrollable passion there, making them oblivious to the world around them, and it didn't even bother Ginny that they were out in the open, where anyone might pass by them. There was a steady throbbing between her legs, and she wanted him more than she could remember ever wanting him before.
"Can we go somewhere?" she asked, speaking softly, her mouth close to his ear. She was able to see that they were still alone, the nearest people off a fair distance away.
"Where?"
"I don't know. Somewhere private. Somewhere where you can fuck me."
"Whoa," Harry muttered, moving away so that he could look at her, and she could see a perfect mixture of shock and arousal on his face.
"Too forward?" she asked, a laugh playing at her lips.
"I will probably replay that in my mind every night that I'm alone for the next… forever."
"Oh, really?" she smiled. "What do you usually think about when you're alone at night?"
"You," he said, running a hand along her spine.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah."
"What about me?" she urged.
"Your mouth. Your body. Touching you," he said, his voice reduced to a whisper, and they were still pressed together, and Ginny could feel him becoming aroused.
"I want you to touch me."
"Ginny… We're outside. In public."
"I know," Ginny nodded. "I don't mean right here. Somewhere else. I'm just. Fuck, Harry, I've been so fucking horny lately. Like, uncontrollably. I'm about to start dry-humping you right here, that's how horny I am."
"Are you trying to make me really hard right now? Because it's working."
"Let's go the the Shrieking Shack. We can be alone," Ginny suggested, but Harry shook his head rather vigorously.
"I don't want to go there."
"But it's close! And nobody else will be there!"
"Ginny, I don't want to go there," he said firmly.
"Okay," she frowned, loosening her grip on him.
"I don't have very good memories there," he explained quietly. "And I just… I don't want to be there."
"Okay," she said again. There was nowhere for them to go to be alone. She knew that. She sighed. "We're not going to be able to have sex again until I'm home for Christmas, will we?"
Harry groaned, grimacing. "But that's so long from now."
"Look at what you've done to me, Potter. The thought of a few months without having sex with you has me in a state a desperation."
"Oh, I did that to you, did I?" he laughed.
"Yes, you did. It's all your fault," she smiled, leaning in again to kiss him quickly. "We should probably move along before I just take all of my clothes off right here."
"I wouldn't stop you," Harry shrugged, pulling away from her and taking hold of her hand again as they continued their walk. She grinned, looking at Harry as they walked. She thought back to her last counseling session, when she asked Simone about post-traumatic stress disorder, and she thought of how Harry might be dealing with that.
"Are you doing okay?" she asked him suddenly. "I mean like… with everything? Have you been doing okay?"
He glanced at her, looking somewhat confused. "Yeah," he nodded. "I'm fine."
"Okay," she said. She wanted to tell him that she could be there for him if it he wasn't, that she would listen to anything that he needed to say, but she didn't know how. So she fell silent as they walked, and she just enjoyed the feeling of her hand in his, of having him close to her. Harry stopped, gazing out in front of him. Ginny hadn't really noticed where they were headed, and she doubted that Harry did, either. The Shrieking Shack was in front of them.
"That's where Snape died," Harry said, finally answering her unasked question.
"Oh."
"I hate how clearly I remember it," he admitted.
"He wasn't a good person, Harry," Ginny said softly.
"He didn't deserve to die."
Ginny said nothing. He looked at her.
"He didn't," he repeated.
"I didn't say that he did," she said. "But he wasn't a good person."
"He did good things."
"He treated you like rubbish for seven years," Ginny reminded him.
"He also kept me safe," Harry said.
"Not because he wanted to," Ginny said. He had told her bits of what he had seen from Snape's memories. "He had an obsession with your mother, disrespected her decision to be with someone other than him, and took out his frustrations on you, who had nothing to do with anything. And because he felt like he had some kind of obligation to the woman who didn't love him, he made sure you weren't murdered. Any decent person would make sure than an innocent kid wasn't murdered, but he did it because of your mum. Not because he was a decent person. Because he wasn't, Harry. He wasn't a decent person."
He stared at her. She hadn't voiced her opinions on the matter when Harry first told her, but so much of it had bothered her. She disliked Snape. She always had, and she was sure that she always would. Nothing would change that.
"If he hadn't been headmaster last year, though, if it had been a real Death Eater-"
"A real Death Eater? As far as I'm concerned, Snape was a real Death Eater. I don't care which side he was actually on, he was still a Death Eater. He allowed them to be in our school, to, to -"
"He had to. It would have looked awfully suspicious if he was like 'oh, no, actually, Voldemort, I'm just gonna keep the same staff.' But he still protected-"
"Don't you dare say that he protected the school or the students," Ginny interjected, feeling anger rising inside of her. She didn't want to be getting angry with Harry. She didn't want to be arguing with him at all, let alone arguing over Severus Snape. But she couldn't control it. She was getting angry.
"But he did! I mean, when you, Luna, and Neville tried to steal the sword of Gryffindor from his office? Can you even imagine what sort of punishment you may have gotten if he was truly on their side?"
She glared at him, mouth slightly open in disbelief. For a moment, Harry looked almost afraid of her. And for a moment, she wanted him to be afraid of her.
"You weren't here," she said, speaking slowly, dangerously. "You don't know what it was like to be here with him in charge."
"You're right. I don't. I was just off, having a nice holiday in the woods, searching for bits of Voldemort's soul," Harry retorted.
"That's not fair," Ginny growled, turning her head quickly, looking away from him, her hair swinging around her shoulders. Her face burned and her heart was pounding, and she was so, so mad, and she knew that she was angrier than she should have been, but there was nothing she could do about it. She began to grow angry with herself for being so angry. They were silent. After what felt like several minutes of silence, Ginny wanted to apologize. But she didn't. She wouldn't be the first one to break the silence and she wouldn't be the first one to apologize. She hadn't looked at Harry at all, but she felt him beside her, growing increasingly fidgety. She was about to give in and say something, but just as she began to open her mouth, she heard Harry's voice.
"I'm sorry," he said, and finally she turned back to him.
"Me too."
"It's just still really confusing," he told her. "A lot of things are…"
Ginny nodded. That much, she could understand. And then, out of nowhere, she had the sudden urge to cry.
"I don't like arguing with you," she said, and her voice cracked just slightly, but noticeable enough for Harry's expression to soften, his eyebrows furrowing together.
"Ginny, are you okay?" he asked her, concerned, and she nodded, her eyes uncomfortably wet, but no tears falling quite yet.
"This keeps happening!" she exclaimed. "I will just randomly feel like crying. I think it has to do with counseling… you know… like, talking about feelings is making me… express feelings?"
"Well, that's okay," Harry assured her.
"No it's not!" she shook her head. "I don't like crying! What are you laughing about?!"
"Nothing! Nothing. I'm sorry. You're just really cute. Come here," he said, holding his arms out, and she fell into them, still fighting back tears. He placed a kiss on her forehead, and she sniffled, the urge to cry slowly dying away.
"I don't like arguing with you, either, by the way," Harry told her softly.
"Let's not do it."
"Okay. We won't."
"Okay," Ginny smiled. "Good."
…
Ginny stared down at her hands, picking at her fingernails, not sure what to say. It was the longest silence she had had in Simone's since her first visit. The greeting was brief. Simone asked her a question. Ginny gave a one-word answer. And then they were silent.
"You're awfully quiet today," Simone finally said.
"Yeah," Ginny agreed.
"Is there any reason?"
"No," she shook her head. More silence followed. Ginny looked up. Simone was watching her. Ginny took a few deep breaths.
"I think I'm ready," she told Simone, and then nodded as if to assure herself. "Yeah."
"You're ready?"
"I'm ready to talk about the war."