Disclaimer in Chapter 1.
Chapter XVIII: A Matter of Time.
"May I have your attention, students." Dumbledore asked in his calm, resonating voice after most of the students had assembled in the Great Hall for breakfast. As expected of the headmaster, every head in the audience turned quickly towards him as he smiled widely. "Today we welcome a new student into our midst. This is Samantha. I have placed her in Gryffindor House at her request. Please try your best to ensure that she feels welcome during her time here at Hogwarts."
Samantha, for her part, stood quickly and waved to the crowd. After a short while, she resumed what she'd been doing before, which was simply sitting next to Harry Potter and pressing as much of her body against him as possible.
And giggling, all the while.
Ginny, for her part, sat on the other side of Harry Potter -conspicuously not pressing her body into him or giggling- merely gripping her fork with as much pressure as she could muster.
Relax, Ginny, her inner monologue soothed. I'm sure there's a perfectly good explanation for this. She clutched at her fork convulsively as her inner monologue asked questions she'd rather not think about. But really, what in the hell does she think she's doing to my best mate?
And why the sodding HELL isn't he doing something about... whatever she thinks she's doing?!
She surreptitiously eyed the woman sitting on the other side of the Boy who Lived, sighing as she realized that he had no intention of stopping her from clinging to him. And why would he? By a woman's comparison, there wasn't a single area that she could claim victory in. 'Samantha' was taller, curvier and prettier... Her boobs, which were pressing insistently against Harry's well-muscled arm, were probably a full cup-size bigger, too. She just looked so damn mature, making Ginny look positively childish by comparison.
Envy and jealousy jockeyed for position at the forefront of her mind, and she sighed in defeat as her fork clattered to the table. "I'm not hungry."
"Ginny?" Harry inquired in his signature monotone. His eyes were actively scanning the area for threats, which itself was odd, as he hadn't done that since the first few weeks of term. "Ginny, will you...?" He didn't bother asking a proper question, she noted in annoyance, but she turned to face him anyway.
Ginny, please try to understand... his voice echoed in her head as she met his eyes, it was tinged with an urgency she'd rarely heard in him. This is not my secret to tell.
She recalled the exact moment he'd said that phrase to her before, when she'd read his journal and he'd been exceptionally vague in places. Certain places relating to his other job.
Is that it? Ginny wondered idly. Is this a mission? I probably shouldn't make too much out of it. He's a soldier, after all... Missions are his life.
Just as she started to smile at him, Samantha reached across him to grab another piece of toast. Her well-developed boobs rubbed against his chest in a decidedly non-accidental way, and for far longer than it took to take hold of a piece of toast. Why are you fumbling about with toast? For Merlin's sake, woman, stop juggling and take a piece! Ginny felt her blood pressure double as her jaw clenched; all thoughts of reconciliation were burned from her mind in that instant. And still he sat there! He even had the gall to let his eyes slip out of focus, like he was savoring the feeling! What's with that distracted face, you fiend?!
Damn you, Harry Potter... we're in a fight! She mentally screamed at the Boy who Lived, and she swore she saw him visibly flinch at her mental outburst. Somewhat mollified by his reaction, she spun on her heel and stalked out of the Great Hall.
We were making such good progress... and now this. Merlin, Harry, do you have to ruin everything?
It wasn't 'til lunch that Ginny's older brother accidentally let slip that 'Sam' would be in Harry's classes.
Every. Single. Class.
Ginny let her distaste for that fact be known in loud and pointed terms, but all she could think was: bugger. As if someone with boobs that big needed another advantage...
"Come off it, Gin, they're only in class. It's not like they're shagging in there..." he laughed far too hard. How suspicious.
In true Weasley fashion, Ginny stuttered and tried in vain to fight the rapidly spreading blush on her cheeks. A particularly juicy fantasy, which just so happened to involve the Boy who Lived and a certain Charms classroom, was playing out in her head mockingly. The caveat being Samantha's part as the female lead, rather than herself.
How perfectly irritating.
Hermione just shot him a glare, which shut him up rather blissfully. "What Ron is try to say, and ever-so-delicately, as usual, is that Harry isn't the type. They're just in the same classes, it's not like he spends every waking minute with her. Right? So cheer up!" She smiled supportively, and Ginny felt that she could almost believe her when she said it like that.
Of course, Harry had to go and ruin everything.
Again.
Because, point in fact, the Boy who Lived did spend every waking minute with Samantha. He walked her to breakfast, walked her to classes, lunch, dinner, the library, the Quidditch pitch where she watched all his practices... He probably even walked her to the loo and tucked her in at night!
Bloody brilliant, that Hermione. At least she had the decency to look ashamed when she found out...
It didn't help Ginny's caustic self-esteem at all when Harry asked about their 'study sessions'. "If you're going to bring her," she spat out with as much vitriol as her frustrated and thoroughly depressed voice could manage, "then don't bother showing up!"
He honestly didn't understand why she was so adamant on it being just the two of them up there. As if he didn't understand the meaning of the word 'intimacy'. As if it were perfectly acceptable to bring another girl when you knew you were going to be massaging an entirely different, for-all-intents-and-purposes-naked girl.
How did they allow you to be this dense, dammit? Haven't we taught you anything?! The youngest Weasley seethed.
It also didn't help when Ginny noticed how jumpy the Boy who Lived had become. He was constantly reaching for his wand and looking around to investigate small noises. It was as if he'd just stepped off the Hogwart's Express all over again.
Looking in the mirror the next Monday had been the last straw. She'd really let herself go over the past week, due to her preoccupation with Harry's new arm-candy. Her skin was dry and paler than usual, her lips were chapped; her hair was stringy and frayed. Was that a zit?!
She needed to get motivated. She needed direction. Anything that would get her focused and back on track. A week of watching this twisted play had caused her no end of stress. Harry had started journaling to release his pent-up frustration, so she could flip that coin and start running. Maybe even add a few crunches in there somewhere, to work on those 'abdominal striations' that Harry had found attractive not too long ago.
As she stared at her reflection, she watched her eyes harden and her jaw set firmly. It's war, then. Isn't that what Harry always says? If you care about something, you'd better be ready to go to war for it. Life is a battlefield... a battlefield of the will and of the mind.
A newfound sense of purpose and determination filled her as she splashed her face with water and stalked over to her bed to unearth her trainers. Sure it would hurt, and sure it would be undignified to be sweaty and red-faced and gasping. But it would hurt less than the alternative, which was potentially losing the Boy who Lived.
She might not be as tall or curvy or pretty as Samantha, but she wouldn't lose quietly. If Samantha wanted Harry Potter's heart, she'd have to fight for it!
Harry ate his usual second breakfast as he mentally mapped out the routes he'd take Samantha to her classes on. It was mainly to keep from taking the same route in a regular interval, which was a proven method for bypassing an ambush, but it also served to distract him.
He'd never understood before why people would go out of their way to be distracted from a problem that urgently needed to be addressed, but now it struck him quite clearly: Harry Potter didn't want to deal with this problem. Try as he might, he couldn't think of a way to win. And he hated losing. So, despite feeling like he was letting himself down, he had pushed the problem away. He was beginning to appreciate how hopelessly tangled emotional attachments could be. Thinking of it left him tired and it hurt in a way he'd never known.
Despite his resolution to put it out of his mind, he couldn't help but come back to the dark cloud looming overhead. He had been forced into a mission, and while that would usually be cause for celebration, especially after his long break, this one was bittersweet.
His missions had always been removed from Hogwarts, once he'd begun attending. He had his job, and he had his schooling. Even though his original mission had been to attend the Wizarding School, there was always something intrinsically removed about the place. Like it was a respite from the 'other' world; a Ministry-sanctioned vacation. He was a soldier, but at Hogwarts, he could pretend to be just another student. And maybe, if he pretended long enough, he would've started to believe it to be truth.
They had always been separate, before. But now... Now the two were utterly intertwined. He couldn't help but feel a sense of loss over it. His thoughts turned to the women in his life that represented that intertwining.
Samantha Cameron was ... clingy. She rarely let go of him, and it was always to perform some vital function, such as racing through her homework or using the loo. As much as he pretended to be unaffected, certain parts of her anatomy definitely ... affected him, so to speak. She was sweet-smelling and soft in a way he'd never experienced, and it took a considerable amount of concentration not to be distracted unduly by her mannerisms. He'd never been around someone so openly affectionate, and it was a pleasant, if worryingly constant, experience. His morning workouts were his only moments of solitude, and he found himself longing for more quiet mornings in a day.
And then there was Ginny Weasley. His heart constricted predictably as his attention turned to her once again. It wasn't an acute pain, like a knife wound or a burn. It was a dull, persistent ache that throbbed in his chest with every heartbeat. The sensation was intensely uncomfortable, but he focused through the novel sting.
Ginny Weasley was hurting, too. His mission, his duty was hurting her. Seeing him with Ms. Cameron was hurting her. He couldn't tell her that she was a class 5 target, since it was classified information and would certainly lead to questions he couldn't answer, like why she was a target. If her enemies found out she was here... So he kept quiet, just like he'd been trained. He kept quiet even though his silence was hurting his best mate.
He didn't know how he knew, but it was as clear to him as the weather outside. He'd told her that he wanted to be her best mate, he'd told her of his feelings, of things that he had never told another, and still she doubted how much she meant to him. It vexed him, frustrated him deeply. How much reassurance would she need before she finally felt secure?
The only way to reassure Ginny completely, by his estimation, would be to remove Samantha from Hogwarts. But he couldn't do that. He'd been entrusted with her safety, and her life was certainly in imminent danger. Pushing her away, especially at a critical time like this, would be unconscionable.
But how to resolve this situation to the benefit of all parties? He hadn't the slightest clue, and dwelling on it would not hasten its resolution. Which was precisely why it was best not to think about this situation.
His logic had completed the full loop, and he was left exactly where he started. It was a pleasant distraction, while it lasted. How frustrating.
As he dug into his scrambled eggs with renewed vigor, he was understandably surprised to see Ginny Weasley, fully one-half of his current dilemma, enter the Great Hall. She had been sweating. Profusely.
Struck by the peculiarity of this, since Ginny Weasley never exercised outside of Quidditch practice, he caught himself staring as she neared his table and straddled the bench next to him. She wasn't here for breakfast; she sat facing him, her knees scraping against his leg. She leaned in and stared up at him silently, her face dangerously close.
The familiar smell of exertion hit him, and he smiled as he touched her with a drying and a warming charm. "You'll send your body into shock if you don't keep warm, since your core body temperature will drop significantly after an elevated level of activity."
Ginny's eyebrow was raised archly as she appraised him, but her expression was unusually guarded. "So now you care?" She appeared to take grim satisfaction in seeing his face contort.
"I do not understand your question, Ginny. Of course I care. What would give you the impression that my affection had ceased?" His frown was only marginal, but his frustration was rapidly returning. His chest hurt again. The mind of Ginny Weasley was a logic puzzle with no known solutions.
"Really, Harry, you're just too dense for your own good..." She smiled good-naturedly at his mechanical response. Her cheeks flushed as a thought flitted across her consciousness. "Look, I didn't come here to snipe at you. I just came to tell you... that it's okay. This... whatever it is that's going on with you and Samantha, it's okay. You're probably a bit confused right now, and really, I understand. You're not used to someone throwing their body at you like that, you're not used to people latching onto you and giggling so annoyingly..."
She paused to catch her breath and refocus, and continued with a drive that he'd rarely seen in her. "It's just... I wish you understood me, too, you know? I'm not the most confident girl, and I know I sometimes react without really thinking it through... I know I'm rough at the edges, and I never trust you as much as I should. And really, I shouldn't doubt my best mate like that. So this time... I'm going to trust you." Her hand, still trembling from her earlier exertions, came up to rest reassuringly on his shoulder.
"I'm going to trust that you know what you're doing, that the things you told me weren't lies. Moreover..." her blush deepened as a smile played at her wind-chapped lips, "I came to tell you that I'm done lying down and watching this tragedy, okay? This time... I'm going to fight for you."
She exhaled and gathered her thoughts again, dropping her hand and focusing on his eyes. Her quiet resolve was bare and unrestrained. "So I'll leave for now, and I'll let you continue doing whatever it is that you've been doing lately, but it's going to frustrate the hell out of me. You are going to frustrate the bleeding hell out of me. I can't promise you that I won't start slinging hexes... But I'll forgive you. Because you're worth it, okay? So don't think for a minute that I'm going to let you go without a fight! You got that, Harry Potter?"
He stared down at her smiling face, saw the determination etched into her features. She was vibrant this morning, and it eased the heavy knot that had been twisting in his chest for the last few days. He returned her smile and nodded, somehow feeling infinitely more at ease with the entire situation than he had been even 5 minutes ago. "I'd like that, Ginny..." he whispered, unwilling to speak louder for fear it would shatter this rare moment, "I'd like that very much."
With a firm nod, the redheaded Gryffindor said, "Good! Then, will you go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend? Yes, I will be calling this a 'date', and yes, you are supposed to be asking me." The smile didn't leave her face, but he could tell that she was working hard to keep it in place. She was nervous.
A warm wave of fondness swept through him as he smiled more widely. She really did affect him in indescribably pleasant ways. Not for the first time, he felt a profound sense of thankfulness for her presence in his life. "Then... will you go to Hogsmeade with me, Ginny?" He tried not to laugh as a visible sigh of relief escaped her lips. Did she really think that he'd reject her, after everything they'd been through?
"I'll think about it." she replied playfully as she stood, knuckling her back and stretching widely. "Well then... see you around, Harry."
And just like that, she left.
Harry shook his head as he resumed shoveling the cold eggs into his mouth, unable to keep the smile off of his face.
As the thick tome slapped shut with a note of dusty finality, the bushy-haired Gryffindor sat back in her chair and tapped her wand against the parchment in front of her, drying the ink instantly. She hummed a wordless tune as she methodically folded her parchment and packed her bags, sending each book on the table floating back to its intended location with a casual flick of her wrist. There was comfort in her rituals, and they were exceptionally comfortable today.
Hermione Jane Granger was pleased. And it wasn't just because she had finished her potions essay the day it was assigned. There were several good reasons for it, really.
It wasn't entirely because her cheeks were flushed, although she could say with some certainty that she had been blushing at least hourly ever since Ron had gotten the hang of surface legilimency. Practice made perfect, after all, and her boyfriend was well on his way to excellence if he kept on at his current rate.
Nor was it simply because she'd finally written to her parents and explained to them, in a clear, thorough and straightforward manner, exactly why she could think of no better man to spend the rest of her life with than Ronald Bilius Weasley. NOT the grocer's son down the street, and certainly not "Richard Blakely's boy", whoever the sodding hell that was. She loved her mum, but the constant meddling and matchmaking had become a grating thorn in her side.
After much consideration, she decided that her happiness was mostly due to the simple fact that she, Hermione Jane Granger, was perfectly content with her current situation. She had no impending disasters to distract her from preparing for her NEWTs next year, she hadn't had the slightest urge to change herself lately, she was very pleasantly surprised with her boyfriend's newfound creative streak in the field of legilimency, her closest friends were getting along famously, and her chest was, at long last, readily distinguishable from a boy's. Her small breasts had been the subject of more than a few insults throughout the years, and she cheerfully noted that nobody had bothered slighting 'the twins' this year.
It was harder to tell who was more pleased about that last item, though: her or her boyfriend. He was only too happy to show her just how much he enjoyed her most recent growth spurt. How much he enjoyed her.
Hermione loved being loved, quite simply, and no one was better at that then Ron. His confidence was lacking at times, but nothing boosted his ego like getting something right. And surface legilimency, they'd decided, was incredibly, exceedingly right. Right up there with 'the twins', even. His confidence had soared after successfully implanting an image in her head for the first time. It was a picture of the two of them from third year, the first picture they'd ever had taken together. His teeth were still too big for his mouth, his freckles glowed neon in the harsh lighting and his gangly arm waved awkwardly at the camera as Hermione leaned into him with a smile. Her hair was a disaster, her teeth were vaguely rabbit-like and her eyebrows were miniature bushes. It was a beautiful memory. Every minute detail of it was replicated, which was quite a feat for Ron's first projection. Her heart swelled as she recalled the smile that lit his face up afterwards.
Hermione, who had been "Plain-Jane Granger" for as long as she could remember, had a deep sense of pride in knowing that she could inspire someone like that. She cherished those times most of all; he was so very masculine when his confidence was up. She loved that side of him, and she loved the fact that she was responsible for dragging it out.
She loved him, and nothing in the world pleased her more than that quiet admission.
She wondered what her parents would think when she brought home a wizard. She wondered what they'd think of the world that wizard would bring with him. She wondered what sort of job that wizard would get after Hogwarts, while she attended Uni. She wondered a lot of things, when her mind wasn't engaged with her schoolwork. She'd always been a long-term thinker, and this school year had caused her to reevaluate her priorities in life.
Ron wanted to do something physical, that much was obvious. He'd flirted with the idea of being a professional Quidditch player during his 5th year, but dismissed it as too much of a long-shot. So few people ever made a living at Quidditch, and Ron just couldn't imagine himself among those few. This year his dream had solidified. He wanted more than a few matches a year. He wanted action and adventure. He wanted a thousand stories to tell his children and his children's children.
The Auror program at the Ministry of Magic was his new goal. He wanted to make her proud, he said. He wanted to catch Dark Wizards. He wanted to look in the mirror and see a warrior staring steadily back at him.
In short, he wanted to be Harry Potter.
She loved Harry, of course. How could she not love someone who had done so much for them? It was a motherly sort of love, however; something far removed from the feelings she had for her boyfriend. Even that level of emotional attachment was taxing. Every time he disappeared, every day that passed without word of where he was or whether he was safe, she felt a now-familiar thrill of dread cinching a little tighter inside her chest.
He was good, Merlin help him but the man was good at what he did, but so many things could still go wrong. He wasn't immortal. Damn near impossible to kill, she knew, but he was still human. Still just as capable of dying as anyone else. And he'd come so close to it so many times...
She could never have a relationship with someone like that, and it was something that she deeply admired about Ginny. She couldn't stand the waiting, couldn't stand the silence. Not knowing where he was, if he was safe... She'd crack under the strain of it.
Before this year, it had been enough to simply know that Ronald Weasley was hers. Now, however, she realized that she needed more. She needed Ron to understand that she wouldn't be able to survive a relationship with a man who hunted Dark Wizards for a living.
In short, she needed Ron Weasley. Not a redheaded Harry Potter. One 'Savior of the Wizarding World' was quite enough, thank you.
Now she just needed to disabuse her boyfriend of the idea that he needed to be the next Boy who Lived to prove himself to her. He needn't try any harder than he already was. Every time he turned that triumphant smile to her, he confirmed just how right she had been to fall in love with him.
Hermione had plenty of time, but she really couldn't wait to begin the 'disabusing'. And if the last three days are any indication, she thought as she shouldered her weightless bag with a secret smile, then he'll enjoy the process immensely.
After her dramatic confrontation over second breakfast, Ginny had worked hard at her promise. She ran every morning and followed up with an ab workout, eating less pudding and red meat and more leafy greens. After two weeks of her new regimen she already felt more comfortable in her own skin than she had in a long while. She couldn't see much of a difference yet, physically, but she didn't expect her figure to change overnight. She was in this for the long term, after all.
It seemed childish now, but one thing she did expect to change overnight was the distance between the Boy who Lived and the tumor growing out of his right arm. There was no other way to describe it, really. Every single time she saw Samantha, she was attached in the exact same spot and showed no intentions of separating from her best mate. If anything, she clung to him more tightly when she noticed Ginny staring at her. 'Must not stab' had quickly become her new mantra during mealtimes.
Her dormmates were skillfully exacerbating the problem, as usual. As if they could smell her newfound determination, they now appeared to speak of nothing but Harry Potter when she was within earshot. Last Thursday was a shining example of why she hated girls. She just hated them...
She'd just come up from Quidditch practice, once more choosing to skip her usual post-practice meal. Her dormmates were all sitting in a close circle on Katie's bed, and that should've been all the warning she needed. She should've turned around and slept in the Common Room...
"Gin!" the bottle-blonde simpered, "we were just talking about you! Come, sit!"
At least she's honest... Ginny thought as she grabbed her favorite pillow, made her way over to her tentatively-termed 'friends' and plopped down amongst them on top of the thick, silky and intensely pink comforter.
Katie took the opportunity to catch her redheaded dormmate up on the course of the conversation over the last hour. It didn't take long. "We've been chatting about Harry and the transfer student. She's certainly taken with him, isn't she? Well, Rose's friend Lucy is in Charms with them and says they don't look any different in class than they do anywhere else. She says they look cute together, but I tell her that you looked cuter with him. It might sound insensitive of us to ask so soon after your breakup, but we figured he must be pretty amazing in the broom closet if she's hanging off of him like that all the time. So we wanted to know how he was. Spill it, Gin!"
Ginny's face had gotten progressively darker as her dormmate chattered on. Cute? Breakup? Broom closet?! "First of all, I keep telling you that we aren't together. I mean, we haven't really talked about it, so calling it a 'breakup' when we were never really 'together' is pretty harsh... and what the bleeding hell do you mean by 'amazing in the broom closet'?!"
"You know, shagging. Is he really that amazing?" Katie said bluntly, not having the basic decency to look away or even blush as she pried... Merlin!
"I don't... I mean, we haven't..." Ginny felt her face ignite clear to her hairline. She was probably blushing clear down to her knees. Don't you have any shame, Kate?!
The girls went positively spare over this stammered admission, of course. Katie let out a shocked gasp, as if Ginny's lack of a sex life was somehow a personal affront. "Oh Gin, we thought you were just too shy to talk about it... Honestly, how did you expect to keep him around when you never gave him any 'incentive' to stay?" She managed to sound sympathetic as she mourned her dormmate's chastity, and the other girls cooed their condolences. It was quite an impressive feat.
Ginny only barely bit back her retort, which was shaping up to be a hysterical shriek along the lines of, "Oh, like that route has worked so brilliantly for you slags!" Instead, she voiced a much more even-toned and diplomatic answer. Harry was certainly improving her ability to hold her tongue. "Harry isn't one of those guys, Kate. He's always been a perfect gentleman, and I'm sure he's not doing anything like that with Samantha." At least he'd better not be doing anything like that, if he plans to survive with his bits intact... she thought with a weak smile.
The girls giggled again. Oh, how Ginny longed to rip out those simpering little vocal chords... "Gentleman?" Katie asked amusedly. "It's a bit more than that, girl. Men are all just animals when you get right down to it. They'll use whatever route is available, even being a gentleman, as long as it's the fastest possible route to getting you naked."
Ginny's smile faltered for moment. How much do they know? Because before Samantha came, I used to get naked for him at least twice a week for a full-body massage...
Katie, predictably, mistook the faltering grin for something else. "So you did manage to find a broom closet big enough for the Boy who Lived! No need to be embarrassed, you can tell us all about it! It's human nature, after all. Was he forceful? Is he hung like a hippogriff?!"
"Dammit, Kate! I said we haven't, okay?!" Ginny's fists balled tightly as she squeezed her pillow in frustration. Her dormmates really did have one-track minds. "And besides, you would definitely know if he was planning on changing that. He'd probably ask you lot a bunch of embarrassing questions about me before he did anything, like what sort of music I preferred and what my favorite position was and such... He'd be rather methodical about that sort of thing, I'd imagine. He's rather methodical about every sort of thing, really..."
She hadn't meant to go on like that, but anything that kept Katie from speaking for another second was worth it. Merlin, but the girl was irritating sometimes...
As she finished talking, however, she was met with the silent stares of every last one of her dormmates. "... What?"
What followed her monosyllabic and entirely innocent question was, in hindsight, the most incredibly embarrassing string of questions she'd ever had the displeasure of being asked. She still hadn't worked the blush entirely off of her face. It had been 4 days.
Now every time she blinked, her rather vivid imagination conjured the most scandalous, indecent images inside her eyelids... and she couldn't even pretend that she wasn't hoping for at least some of it to actually happen. Now she couldn't even look Harry in the eye, out of a very real fear that he'd read what she was thinking. She'd probably never be able to speak to him again if he knew what was now replaying every blink in full-color stereophonic. Or rather, what Katie and her tittering, slaggish dormmates had injected forcefully into her brain.
She hated girls. Merlin, she hated them...
"Ginny? You wanted to talk to me?" Neville Longbottom's timid tenor broke her out of her vitriolic ruminations.
"Hm? Oh, of course. Please sit down." She motioned to the chair across from her in the History section of the Library. Nobody ever came here for anything book-related unless there was a huge project due soon, so it guaranteed them a modicum of privacy. One of the tricks she'd picked up from her dormmates. Dirty rotten slags, the lot of them.
As soon as Neville had situated himself properly, she started, "You're in a lot of Harry's classes, I just wanted to know what he's like in them." Like how does he get anything done with Samantha clinging to him all the time...
"Oh..." Neville scratched his head as he thought about it. "I'm not too sure, really. I don't make a habit of watching him. He's... sort of normal, I guess. Well, as normal as Harry Potter can be." He shrugged. "Why do you ask?"
"Normal? Samantha clinging to him like that all the time is hardly normal... Three weeks she's been like that, and nobody is telling her off for any of it! I mean, if I were clinging to him like that all the time I'd be laughed at, or there'd be these awkward silences when I walked into a room because you know they were all just talking about me... But everyone just accepts what Samantha does as the status quo!" Ginny scowled as she mulled it over. She hadn't been able to talk to anyone about this lately; Harry was completely out of the question and she was still not on speaking terms with her traitorous dormmates, so the frustration had been building inside of her rather dangerously. She was really glad that Neville was available to vent on.
"I mean... why can't I decide what normal is, instead of everyone else? Samantha wouldn't be given the run of the place just for being tall and pretty, Harry wouldn't let her cling to his arm every bleeding minute, and I wouldn't be singled out for being the only one of my dormmates who wasn't a tittering, nosey slag!"
Neville stared at her for a short while, taken aback by the vehemence in her usually soft voice. She'd really been bottling it up, apparently. "Well, I can sort of understand that." he replied cautiously, "I'd like a sort of normal, myself."
The redhead looked at him curiously, desperate for something to take her mind off of the unfairness of her own situation. She could be rather nosey when she needed to. Not so much tittering or slaggish, though. "What would you change, then?"
Blinking at the abrupt question, Neville leaned back and thought for a moment in silence. He didn't plan for this, but he'd grown to trust the youngest Weasley over the past few months. If she honestly wanted to know, then he didn't mind telling her the truth. "Well for starters, I'd make it normal for healers to know how to fix my parents. They were tortured with the Cruciatus by Death Eaters until they lost their minds. Then I'd make it normal for my parents to be at home instead of in St. Mungo's. The only 'normal' I get from them is an empty bubblegum wrapper every now and again..." he fought the urge to blush in embarrassment as he pointedly looked anywhere but at her.
Ginny blanched at the sudden seriousness of the conversation. "Merlin, Nev... I'm sorry. I didn't... I didn't know." Her excuse sounded lame even in her head.
Neville shrugged, "It's not your fault, you know. We've all got things we wished were different. I think you're pretty lucky, since you can change a few of yours. I'd give anything to have my parents back. It's one reason I'm so interested in herbology, actually. I'm rubbish at potions, but I keep wondering if someday I'll discover some new herb that will finally let my parents be 'normal' again. It's a bit of a stretch, I know, but there's still hope. I can still see them, even if they don't recognize me most of the time. As long as they're alive, there's still hope. I have to hope that there's something out there, you know? Something that can change; something worth looking forward to..."
The pair fell into a contemplative silence for a long moment before Neville spoke up again. "So this thing with Harry... I don't think he knows that he's doing anything wrong. He's pretty new at this whole 'normal' thing, but I don't think he's the type of bloke who would treat your feelings lightly..."
Ginny smiled at that. "I know... I love that about him. I love a lot of things about him, really... I'm just not very confident when I look at Samantha. She's pretty, she's outgoing and she already draws top marks in all her classes... I wonder what Harry sees in me, when he's got someone like her throwing herself at him. He sort of asked me to Hogsmeade this weekend, did you know?" She grinned a bit wider, gloating internally about her victory over the taller, curvier brunette.
"I should really try to make this weekend count, I guess. I think it'll help clear the air around us. Just being around him puts me in a good mood..."
Ginny Weasley was most assuredly not in a good mood.
First her date started off on a sour note because Sam,who looked positively stellar, showed up still latched onto Harry's arm and wasted no time in completely ruining Ginny's courage and self-confidence with her good looks and charisma.
Harry even had the nerve to ask if something was wrong. Why yes, Harry, something is terribly wrong, and it's you, bringing her on our date! Merlin help him, but he was so damn thick sometimes!
Why the hell was she coming along, anyway?! There was something fishy going on, there...
Second, Sam had dragged them around to all the shops she'd wanted to, and Ginny had planned on going to every last one of them! The youngest Weasley got the unsettling feeling that if they weren't opponents in the war for Harry's feelings, they would have been great friends. Maybe she should be nicer to her...
Psh.
Sometimes she really hated being nice.
Thirdly, an unexpected visitor showed up. It wasn't Celestina Warbeck, either. It was none other than the proud Hogwarts expellee and future dark lord himself, Draco Malfoy.
Ginny didn't know who looked more surprised: Draco, when Samantha bumped into him, or Harry, when Draco dropped his glamour charms. His voice sounded so different now... like he'd aged a lifetime in the few short months he'd been gone. "Hello, Ms. Cameron. I can't tell you how... disappointed I was when I found that you'd disappeared with your father. It's truly providential that I'd meet you here. The pleasure, I'm afraid, will be all mine."
The scion of Malfoy had a wicked smile that seemed far too eager, considering how poorly he had fared last time Harry got his hands on him. But instead of dismissing the blonde boy out of hand, Ginny felt the hairs on her neck stand on end as both men began gathering enormous amounts of magic. Harry stepped away from her and Samantha, distancing himself from them as she felt a peripheral wave of heat from a growing magical discharge. Harry looked intense.
The hair on the back of her neck was tingling. What was Harry doing? This couldn't be good...
No sooner had she thought it then she was violently launched into the air. She screamed in horror and was surprised to hear her scream echoed by Samantha, who was traveling alongside her through the air in an enormous parabolic arc. Then they both disappeared from view. Had Harry just disillusioned them?! He was amazing...
They were literally sailing through the air back towards Hogwarts, with the howling wind whipping about them violently. Miraculously, they both managed to cling to their bags as they rapidly neared the castle.
Harry's voice reverberated inside her mind, "Take Samantha straight to Dumbledore, don't trust anyone else! If anyone tries to stop you before you get to his office, even Dumbledore himself, stun them and run! Hurry!"
As profoundly irritating as it was to have Harry tell her to get Samantha to Dumbledore's office with not a word about her own safety, she recognized the stress in his voice. It wasn't a suggestion, it was an order. She didn't know what had just happened, but it was incredibly serious.
They neared the ground still traveling at a startling rate of speed, and Ginny felt her throat constrict as she realized that she wouldn't be able to turn her legs toward the ground in time. She was set to land flat on her back. She braced herself for impact and ... bounced?
Yes... bounced. Once, twice, and then settled gently onto the grass inside the gates.
That was a terrifying and nauseating ride. Twenty times worse than her first floo...
Brushing her robes off as she stood, Ginny shakily felt around for, and then helped an equally trembling Samantha to her feet and pulled her by the hand towards the main entrance. She pointedly ignored the brunette's constant questioning about who that man was, where they were going, what they were doing, how they got there and why they were invisible. The youngest Weasley's wand was in her hand and she was ready to hex anyone who stepped in front of her. As mad as she was with the Boy who Lived, she wouldn't let Harry down!
Neville overheard her telling Samantha once again to shut up on the second floor, entering an intersection when he heard her whispered voice from down the hall. "Ginny? Is that-" the red jet of light hit him squarely in the chest, and his confused expression relaxed instantly as he collapsed on the ground.
Ginny stepped over the freshly-stunned Gryffindor, murmuring a quiet apology to the unconscious boy.
Samantha whispered fiercely, "Okay, what the bleeding hell was that?!"
The young redhead rounded on the girl, trying to keep her voice down as she whispered towards where she was grasping the brunette's hand. "Harry told me to get you straight to Dumbledore and stun anyone in the way! If you trust him, then shut up and stay right behind me! Merlin!"
With a disgusted gasp, the newest Gryffindor whipped out her wand and pointed it behind them, checking the hallway for movement as they hurried towards the Headmaster's office. "Why didn't you say so in the first place, dammit?! I've got one of those fancy glowing sticks too, you know!"
Despite the situation, Ginny couldn't help but grin. She wanted so badly to hate this woman, but she wasn't making it easy...
When they finally reached Dumbledore's office, the gargoyle moved away automatically for them. They climbed the stairs as quietly as they could and entered the room to see their Headmaster staring gravely at a large, ghostlike stag. Was that a corporeal patronus? Dumbledore waved his hand dismissively and it disappeared in a swirl of mist. He looked grim...
In a blink, he was back to being their slightly batty headmaster. That was an impressive shift to make, but she didn't have time to think about it at the moment. With a casual swish of his wand, the headmaster cancelled their disillusionment.
Dumbledore offered them both a lemon drop, which they both refused on principle alone, and then offered them seats, which they took gratefully.
"Please, relax. You are both quite safe now. I'm sure you both have questions, but before you begin I must tell you, Ms. Cameron, that you will have to be relocated tonight. Now that your whereabouts are known, you are no longer completely safe at Hogwarts. You will most likely be remanded back into Mr. Black's custody. It will be a burden on both of you, certainly, but your safety is more important than your comfort."
"That's not fair!" Samantha shouted, suddenly finding her voice. Her throat had constricted when the headmaster told her she'd have to leave. She hadn't made many friends, regrettably, but she was near her idol every single day. "I don't care if I'm slightly less safe here, I want to stay!"
The headmaster shook his head firmly, "Of course it's not fair, child. I am truly sorry for that, but I would rather you be safe and unhappy somewhere else than here and at the slightest additional risk. And I'm quite sure that your father would agree with me. This is not negotiable, Ms. Cameron. You will be leaving tonight."
After scowling at the old man across the table for a long while as Ginny looked on, the brunette finally spoke again, "Fine. At least tell us what the hell just happened. Who was that blonde-haired man?"
Dumbledore looked tired as he answered, "Ah, yes. That was Draco Malfoy, a recent Hogwarts student and an even more recent resident of Azkaban. It is not common knowledge yet, so I will ask you both to keep that information to yourselves."
Ginny could contain herself no longer. "We need to help Harry, Headmaster!"
Albus smiled at the young redhead as his eyes regained their previous twinkle. "The best thing that you both can do to help right now is to stay here with me. The proper authorities have already been contacted, and they are mobilizing as we speak. Harry is truly remarkable, thinking so clearly whilst fighting for his life."
The youngest Weasley felt a swell of pride at that endorsement, but Samantha let out a horrified gasp. "Fighting for his life? What are we going to do?!"
Ginny smiled and squeezed the taller girl's shoulder reassuringly. "Just trust him, Sam. He's Harry Potter, after all, and Harry Potter isn't capable of losing!"
Contrary to popular belief, Harry Potter certainly was capable of losing.
He wasn't very good at it yet, since it had only officially happened one time in his entire career thus far, but in the end every fight boiled down to circumstance and luck.
He had been severely exhausted, both physically and magically, when Dr. Lucas Winters had fought him in the hallway of his hospital prison, but circumstances didn't matter. The fact remained that he had barely escaped with his life. He had bet it all on misdirection, and hoped that his incredibly depleted magical reserves would be beyond his opponent's ability to detect. The gambit had paid off, but he had still lost the fight. His enemy had gone free.
That loss still shook him, even as unfair as the fight had been. Life was not about fair and unfair, only about victors and victims. That was all that mattered on the battlefield.
And now, as he crashed through the mercifully weak exterior wall that shielded the Three Broomsticks from the elements, he realized that he was about to put another tally mark on his list of losses. He hit the hard-packed dirt and tumbled to a stop, coughing raggedly as he struggled to stand quickly.
I... am going to lose. The thought should've brought some emotion with it, but he couldn't muster anything other than adrenaline and a deep, cold and tightly-wound fury.
Draco, completely encased in stone that took the shape of a large, lumbering golem, followed closely behind his battered body. Harry quickly banished the foolish patrons who had stayed to watch the fight, tossing them to the relative safety of the storage room.
It cost him dearly, as another massive stone fist crashed into him. He felt his jaw shatter as his neck whipped back almost hard enough to break. It didn't break, thankfully, but he surely had sustained at least one concussion from this fight, along with his shattered jaw and several fractured or broken ribs. His elbows and knees were scraped raw from the constant tumbling he'd been doing to protect his core. His back was in terrible pain, he had probably been pierced by several long shards of broken glass and wood in his most recent flight. Blood was dripping from a cut over his right eye, partially obscuring his vision.
He could ignore all the pain, if only for a short while. What he couldn't ignore were all the fools surrounding him.
There were just too many innocents around. They were standing and watching the fight patiently like cows waiting to be slaughtered, and for the life of him he couldn't understand why they weren't running in terror right now. They were in the way, and they just didn't understand how much they were helping Malfoy simply by being there.
Draco was masterful in his tactics, never letting up for a moment. If he wasn't attacking Harry, he was endangering the crowd. Malfoy never failed to capitalize on the distractions provided by their audience to damage Harry further.
The Boy who Lived hadn't even had a chance to remove his limiters yet.
Harry had sacrificed the initiative to send Ginny and Samantha out of harm's way and conjure patronuses to Sirius and Albus, and he had never regained his footing. Draco had not allowed him a single moment to regroup, or a single moment to level the playing field. He was ruthless and brutal, completely unlike the naïve schoolboy he had put away so recently.
With a searing magical backlash that almost certainly burned several annoyingly passive bystanders, the Boy who Lived forced the ground under the scion of Malfoy to push up violently, launching his opponent skyward. Harry finally reached for the clasps of his limiters just in time to notice the rapidly growing shadows of the now-dissociated stones that had made up Draco's golem as they hurled towards him. He felt the world brighten around him as his limiters fell, but the stones were coming fast...
Too fast-
Draco landed lightly on his feet next to the pile of rubble that had crushed the boy whom, less than one year ago, had killed the Dark Lord Voldemort in a duel. Was this what he had been terrified of before his world had been reshaped?
He cackled softly, relishing the adrenaline that spiked through his system. He had beaten Harry Potter! Now he just had to make sure the boy would never oppose him or his master again...
Reaching down to the mass of stones now piled on the street, he prepared to crush Harry Potter into a sticky paste. Several members of the crowd gasped, but no one drew their wands or made any attempt to stop him.
Weaklings.
Well done, Draco. Leave him there, make a calling card and return to me immediately. His master's voice rang out inside his head, and his ingrained compulsion forced him to withdraw his hand from the stones at once. With a long-suffering sigh, Malfoy sent his reply. You want the pleasure for yourself, do you? As you command, Master.
Torn between the thrill of his recent victory and bitter disappointment that he could not finish off his enemy, Draco lifted the stones off of the Boy who Lived so he didn't suffocate. "Next time, Potter, I'll start with your blood traitor girlfriend."
Smirking cruelly at all the terrified wizards and witches surrounding him, he picked the most terrified-looking one and pointed at him. "You there, what's your name?"
The wizard blanched as Draco's finger was leveled at him, and he began to shake uncontrollably. Malfoy sighed and forced his way into the man's mind. He had no occlumency shield at all. Pathetic.
"Right. Malcolm. I almost hate to do this to your lovely wife, especially so soon after your marriage, but someone has to die. Looks like today just isn't your day..." With a savage grin, Malfoy sent a translucent white beam at the man, who didn't even attempt to get out of the way.
The man disassociated with an explosion that sounded like an impossibly loud belch, smattering the surrounding crowd with a dark, sticky film.
Mere moments later, Draco disapparated with a muted snap.
Only then did the crowd erupt in panic.
Ginny didn't know why she'd been so adamant about visiting Harry in the hospital. He'd been hurt badly; she knew that much from the look on the headmaster's face. Ron and Hermione said they'd let her go alone, and she'd gone without really thinking it through.
But seeing him there on that bed, seeing him so frail and damaged... It twisted something inside of her that was too painful to bear. She couldn't look at his comatose form another second.
So she ran. She barreled past Sirius Black and straight back up to the designated floo area, and then she ran all the way back to her dorm. She shut the curtains, locked them and threw silencing charms at them, and then she screamed. She screamed and sobbed and cried out until her voice was gone. She cried until her eyes were raw.
And then she lay there, staring blankly at her scarlet curtains and trying desperately to think of something other than Harry Potter and failing spectacularly. That twisting thing inside of her would not be satisfied until it had torn her apart...
The redheaded Gryffindor didn't know how much time had passed, but when her stomach gurgled she realized that she wasn't leaving the dormitory for at least another day. She'd have to make do with the junk food she bought at Hogsmeade.
Rolling over with a muted groan, she fumbled about before finally grabbing her bag and hoisting it up onto the bed with her. She dumped the contents unceremoniously onto the sheets and began sorting through them. A small black box caught her eye. I didn't buy this... she thought curiously as she turned the box over in her hand. It looked like a jewelry box. When she opened it she let out a gasp.
It was a simple silver ring. A ring.
Ginny picked it up with shaking fingers, examining it. There was an intricately etched snowflake on it. What could that mean? Harry must've done this; he always found ways to surprise her, even when she was wallowing in self-doubt.
Even thinking about his name caused her chest to tighten. Oh, Harry... She thought as she gingerly slipped the ring onto her third finger, finding it to be a perfect fit. It's beautiful.
Why thank you, Ms. Weasley. I made it myself. A voice that was very distinctly not Harry Potter's rang out inside her head. She felt a bolt of terror spike through her as her eyes grew wide. I apologize, but this next part will hurt rather significantly...
Ginny felt the silencing charm settle around her as the ring burned red-hot and began constricting. Her mute scream took the breath out of her.
Sirius Black felt his demons on days like this.
Harry Potter had been defeated three days ago, in broad daylight and in full view of several dozen witnesses who were all just standing there as his godson got the life beaten out of him. Not a single one raised a wand to help, nor did they bother trying to get out of Harry's way so he could fight without worrying about their worthless lives. It took a considerable amount of restraint not to choke the life out of each and every one of those cowards as he interviewed them...
It was completely illogical. Harry had been in an exceptionally hard fight, against an opponent who was very clearly trying to kill him. His godson had put Draco Malfoy in Azkaban, after all, and the boy could certainly nurse a grudge. Malfoy was almost certainly involved with Dr. Lucas Winters, if the etched crystal ball left near the ruins of Azkaban was any indication, which meant that Harry was a priority target for them. But after crushing the Boy who Lived with stones and knocking him unconscious, he pulled the stones off of him and withdrew. Well, not before making a gruesome mess of a seemingly random bystander named Malcolm Merryweather.
Auror Tonks was masquerading as Harry Potter at Hogwarts, to reassure people that stories of his defeat were grossly exaggerated. Nobody would know just how close to death Harry had come that day. She was also pulling close protection for Ginny Weasley, who had been upgraded to a class 4 target after being publicly threatened by Draco Malfoy during the fight.
Ginny had visited Harry's battered, unconscious form at the base hospital, but left in tears after a few short minutes. She hadn't returned. Sirius could empathize with that. His godson was always so strong... it was almost unthinkable that he could be beaten this badly. He'd broken over a dozen bones, he was bleeding internally in several places, his right lung had collapsed, his skull had been cracked along with the left side of his jaw, his left eye socket had been shattered, and he'd also suffered fractures along his arm, wrist, leg, three ribs and an ankle. Most of his body was still covered with ugly purplish bruises and freshly-scabbed lacerations. A few shards of glass had come perilously close to his spine. A few millimeters to the right, and the Boy who Lived may have never walked again.
Every single doctor who had seen him remarked that he shouldn't be alive. Harry Potter should've died in Hogsmeade last Saturday. His body should have quit in the emergency room before, during or after his surgeries, or during his recovery. There was simply no medical explanation for why his godson was still breathing, except that Harry Potter was, quite simply, more resilient than any three other wizards who'd ever lived. His heart simply refused to stop beating for such a petty thing as his entire body being broken savagely.
The thought brought a swell of pride and pain in near equal measures. Sirius hadn't left Harry's side since Sunday, when he'd finally finished interviewing the many witnesses who had stood there and watched as his godson was beaten nearly to death. The Auror in Charge of Executive Protection had been eating hospital food, sleeping next to Harry on a small cot and borrowing Harry's bedpan when he needed to relieve himself. He refused to leave the room for any reason at all.
His godson still hadn't woken up, and the first thing he wanted Harry to see was his face. He wanted to tell James' son that he was still alive, that he was loved, that he could stop putting himself in harm's way... that he had done enough already.
But mostly, Sirius wanted to look into the boy's emerald eyes, then hug him and never let him go. Harry looked so weak on that hospital bed, and it stirred something black and ugly inside his chest to think about what had happened to him...
The first order of business was the destruction of every last pair of limiters in inventory. It had been a concession to the Board of Governors in exchange for allowing 'an incredibly dangerous person' to attend their beloved school, but Sirius was beyond caring now. Damn those old men to hell for having a part in his godson's injuries; he'd Imperius the lot of them if that's what it took.
After that, he'd figure out a way to get Draco Malfoy alone before someone else could catch him, so he could snatch the life out of that little bastard with his bare hands. Moody had a special trunk for people like Malfoy, and the blonde was a prime candidate for the 7th lock treatment.
And then it was on to the young Dr. Winters. Sirius didn't know what he'd do when he finally got his hands on the bastard responsible for so much of his godson's pain, but he vowed that it would be creative and synonymous with 'human rights violations'.
It was only a matter of time until Harry woke up. And when he did, only one thing was certain: people were going to burn.
No excuses, it's been ages since my last update. Not to say that I've been slacking. Since my last update, I've definitely written over 250 pages of size 12 Times New Roman. Most of it is for an original work that I started during National Novel Writing Month, NaNoWriMo for short, and I'm very excited about the way the story is turning out. Best of all, it's not a fanfic; if life is kind then I'll be wrapping up the editing in a few months and nervously looking for a publisher that's not going to laugh me out of the building. I'm not delusional enough to think that I can do well enough at this to make a living of it, but with a lot of luck I might just turn into a legitimate –meaning destitute and obscure– writer. Well, that's the general idea, anyway. I'll keep you guys posted! (: !!
We're down to the last few chapters, so I hope that motivates me to focus on finishing this story right. No matter what happens, I'm not going to stop writing fanfiction. It's a cherished creative outlet for me, and I wouldn't trade it for the world. So what if it doesn't make me any money? Writing original stuff probably won't make me any money, either, but I'm still going to do it. Why? Because I like writing, and some of you apparently like reading my stuff. That's good enough for me.
I'll let you all know what my next projects are when this story is wrapping up. I still have a few Potter projects sleeping in the Owlery, but I may very well be branching out into other titles and genres as well. I'm hoping it will refine my style a bit further, so look forward to it!
I hope you enjoyed this update, and I hope the next couple of chapters are smoother for me to write. Until next time.
Oh, and please review. Seriously, I'll cry if you don't take a minute to review something that I spent so many hours agonizing over. You don't want to make me cry, do you?
...): That's a text-based representation of me, and yes, I'm crying. Isn't it sad? Think about those little period-tears falling sideways before you click out of this story. Please review!