A/N: Thanks to those of you who commented in your reviews you didn't feel the story was dragging :) Here's your extra update anyway. I realized earlier this week that James's apology here is actually three chapters on from his hateful words outside the DADA classroom (chapter 5), yet it's barely 24 hours in the story. It's that kind of thing that makes me anxious about it dragging for those of you who are following along week by week. So, continue to watch the time and location tags at the beginning of the scenes as sometimes we'll have a lot of detail and know most of what happens in a day, and sometimes we'll skip over days completely. I'm guessing we're about halfway through (or maybe not quite that far).

Monday afternoon

the greenhouses

Al was waiting outside the greenhouse when Ginny and the sixth years left Herbology.

"I heard you got into trouble with Viridian."

"Hello to you too."

He led her behind the greenhouses, away from the other pupils. "Did you really show him up in front of the whole class?"

"Can we talk about something else?" They continued past the vegetable patch and along the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Clearly, Al was no more eager to be seen with her than Lily had been.

"James said he thought you were going to Bat-Bogey him."

"Your brother exaggerates." Although she had been tempted. The kids always complained about Viridian, and now she knew they were right. He was an arrogant git.

Al laughed. "You're lucky he didn't take points. It's his favorite thing to do other than hear himself talk. I heard you were reading Dad's letter. Did you ever lose points with him?"

"You mean for sneaking out with him? Of course not. We had the map and the Cloak. Speaking of which, since both of those are now in my possession, how did James persuade you to take me off his hands for an hour?"

"He didn't. I just thought, you know, it would be nice to visit."

"Did he pay you?"

"Mu-um."

"Wait—he's got something on you, doesn't he?" Ginny stopped walking and put her hands on her hips. "What have you done that I don't know about?"

"Nothing bad," Al said quickly.

"It's a girl."

"No." But he wouldn't meet her eyes and resumed walking.

She dropped her arms and followed. "What's her name?"

"You said you weren't here for me and Lily, that you would let us alone."

She sighed. "I did." More's the pity. "All right then. Lily told me about the scrimmage Quidditch match. I'm sorry you didn't make the team."

He shrugged. "I made a lot of assists and helped get two Gryffindors on the team. It's what I'm good at."

"You're good at scoring too." Maybe even better than James. No one really knew because it seemed Al always held back, never competing head on with his brother.

"I've been wanting to ask you about James. Do you know why he's upset?"

Al didn't answer right away. Ginny waited as they gave the Whomping Willow a wide berth.

"People always say I look like Dad, but James is the one they expect to be Dad. Lily—she got Sorted into Slytherin and has made her own way ever since, but James can't escape it."

"But that's always been true, Al. What's different this year?"

"I think he got tired of trying," he said simply. "Decided he'd just blow everyone off, only—"

"Your dad got into his share of trouble at Hogwarts too."

"Yeah."

"Do you know why he's pissed at me?"

"Other than you coming up here and ruining his life?"

"Yes, before that," Ginny said irritably. They had looped around behind Hagrid's cabin and were walking up the drive. She couldn't help giving the Quidditch pitch a longing look.

"You should ask James."

"I did. I don't think he told me the truth."

"I don't know, exactly."

"But you have an idea."

Al led them towards the Quidditch stands. "James is a really good Chaser, but no one seems able to give him a compliment without comparing him to you. After we won the Cup last year, some of the other players were even muttering how it was unfair, that he trained with a professional."

"Is that why he stopped letting me play with him this summer?" She and James had flown together, played in family matches at home and at the Burrow, but he had refused her help with Chaser drills.

Al nodded. "He wanted to be able to say it was his talent, his work."

Ginny sighed. She hated to see her son struggling and not be able to help him.

"Don't tell him I said any of this, okay?"

"Of course I won't. But he's going to know."

Al shrugged. "No offense, Mum, but … I reckon the more you know, the faster you'll go home."

Ginny did her best to keep the blow to her heart from showing on her face. "Enough about your brother. What's new with you?"

Al veered away from Ginny as soon as they entered the Great Hall for dinner, but James caught her eye and gave her a little wave. Minuscule, really, but Ginny was eager for any friendly sign. He was sitting on the side that faced the Slytherin table, like she had every meal since lunch on Friday, and he even moved over to make room for her.

"Mrs. Potter, you were amazing in Charms today," Holly Jordan said.

"Yeah, amazing," Cameron said, but he was looking at Holly, not Ginny. James didn't seem to notice.

"You will be able to do all that by the end of the year," Ginny said, suspecting Neville was mistaken about who exactly wanted to impress Holly Jordan.

"Still, you put Viridian in his place," James said. Her little demonstration seemed to have broken the ice between them.

"Something that you, as his pupil, are not eligible to do," Ginny said firmly.

"Don't worry. You haven't given us any ideas we didn't have already," Evan said, reaching for another chop.

Ginny let the conversation flow around her, answering questions about her Charms N.E.W.T. and eating an extra slice of treacle tart for Harry. As the sixth-years climbed the marble staircase back towards the Gryffindor common room, James tugged on Ginny's robes.

"Where are we going?"

"You'll see," James said, continuing to lead her away from the flow of pupils.

They turned and climbed, passing classrooms and offices, suites of armor and landscape paintings, and as she thought about it, things started to look familiar.

"The East Wing?" Ginny said. "There's nothing in the East Wing except—" She stopped.

"Mum?" James turned to look at her.

"The Portable Swamp is this way," Ginny said.

"Yeah. I thought—well, you haven't been to Hogwarts since you left, so I thought you might like to see it. For—for Uncle Fred." He rubbed the back of his head. "It's sort of a … well, you'll see."

Rather than being roped off as it had been immediately after its creation, the swamp was bordered by a low decorative stone wall and fed by a small stream of water from an open dragon's mouth. Above the swamp, on a large golden plaque resembling a galleon, were the words:

Portable Swamp Created by Fred and George Weasley

Gryffindor House 1989-1996

This swamp remains in memory of the members of Dumbledore's Army, who fought against the Ministry of Magic's interference with Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry during the Second Wizarding War and defended the school during the Battle of Hogwarts on 2 May 1998.

Below this inscription was a list of all the members of Dumbledore's Army: one star for founding members, two stars for those who died in the Battle, and three stars for founding members who died.

"It's a memorial," Ginny whispered, staring at the three stars beside Fred's name. "I—how long has this been here?"

"Teddy said the last Charms teacher did it and cast the spells to create the fountain and make it permanent."

There was a war memorial at the Ministry, but this was different. This was theirs, a reminder to those who walked the same halls and slept in the same beds that kids had once gathered together and fought for what they believed was right, for their home.

"Did you know them?"

Ginny's eyes drifted over the list of names. "Every one. Many of them quite well. Parvati and Lavender and I were pretty close that last year, and Colin … Colin was in my year. We were friends from our very first Welcome Feast. He—he was my Potions partner." She turned to James. "Thank you for bringing me here."

"I'm sorry I didn't think of it before."

She reached for his hand and squeezed it.

"I'm sorry about yesterday too," he blurted.

Ginny froze. James continued holding her hand.

"Sometimes—sometimes I wish you weren't famous, that you were just my mum. That's all I meant. Just my mum, not Ginny Weasley Potter."

"I—" Ginny swallowed and tried again. "I wish that too, love." He was staring down at the swamp, and she reached out to brush his hair out of his eyes. "I know it's hard for you sometimes. I would change it if I could."

"I know." He dropped her hand. "Almost my entire family is on that wall," he said.

Ginny looked at the giant galleon again. Fred, George, Angelina, Ron, Hermione, she, and Harry were all listed as founding members. Of James's parents, aunts, and uncles, only five were missing, and three of them had been members of the Order of the Phoenix.

"It must seem like a lot to live up to."

He shrugged one shoulder.

"They're just people, James. Look. Michael Corner was my boyfriend at the time, and your dad had a crush on Cho Chang. Lee Jordan, Holly's dad, was Quidditch commentator. Zacharias Smith was a stuck-up prat. I don't know how Harry put up with him. Ernie MacMillan and Hannah Abbott—that's Neville's Hannah—had the best Chocolate Frog collection in the school. There's Madame Branstone-she joined the last year, when I managed to convince Neville we should let in third-years and up, just like Harry had. Seamus Finnegan—" Ginny laughed. "Seamus was really good at blowing things up, most of the time unintentionally."

James gave her a small smile.

"We weren't trying to be heroes. Remember what I said last night? We just wanted to pass our exams."

"It turned into a lot more than that, though."

Ginny stared at the stars again. "Yes. Yes, it did."

()()()()

Wednesday afternoon

greenhouse four

"You seem to be having a better day," Neville said, joining Ginny at the Fanged Geranium she was pruning. She had proven so proficient at retrieving Snargaluff pods that he had banned her from helping James and Cameron and set her to work at the back of the greenhouse instead.

"James isn't trying to escape me after every lesson or ignoring my existence, so yeah. Much better." Ginny smiled.

"And you're not standing on tables in the Great Hall or reminding him to wash behind his ears."

"You heard about that?" she said sheepishly.

"I'm Head of Gryffindor House. I know everything that happens in the common room."

Ginny wasn't fooled. "Al blabbed, didn't he?"

"I think 'tattled' is more accurate. He was pretty disappointed you didn't hex James's fingers together."

"Louis wouldn't let me at him." Ginny added more dragon dung to the base of the plant, jerking her hand back when it snapped at her.

"I have more good news for you. McGonagall has lifted James's Quidditch ban."

"Really? Oh, that's wonderful! You have no idea how hard it's been to be back at Hogwarts and not be able to fly."

"I also heard you talked some about the war." He turned and leaned his back against the table so he could keep an eye on the class.

"Uh-huh." She filled a nearby watering can with a spell.

"That's not what I meant, Ginny."

"What?"

Neville placed his hand on the spout of the can, redirecting it. "Water the roots, not the leaves."

"Sorry. I wasn't paying attention."

"I meant for you to tell James about your experiences, not the whole of Gryffindor House."

She set down the watering can.

"You were the heart and soul of the resistance that year. You were Harry Potter's girlfriend before, during, and after."

"But Harry—"

Neville stopped her with a look. "James deserves the inside track, to know more than what's in the history books, to know before his friends. It's like he has all the drawbacks of being related to you and Harry without any of the benefits. Yes, I know that's an exaggeration," he said, cutting her off when she opened her mouth. "But it's how he feels."

Ginny's shoulders sagged. "I didn't think it would be this hard."

"Coming to Hogwarts?"

"Motherhood. I thought it would get easier over the years because I'd have more experience, you know?"

Neville laughed. "You're a wonderful mother, but in many ways you're still treating James like a child and he's not. Think about what we were doing at sixteen."

"That's just it," she said, ducking as a snargaluff pod whizzed between them, followed by an apologetic Millie. "It's absolutely terrifying. I don't know how Mum stood it."

"So say so. Everyone else's account always gets overblown. Tell him the truth—the reality of what it was like."

Ginny busied herself picking up the debris on the pruning table. "I don't want to scare him."

"That's the mother in you, thinking about her little boy," Neville said gently. "Two years, Ginny—you know how fast two years goes by! In less than two years, James is going to be out on his own. He'll have a job, a flat, maybe a girlfriend … he's not your little boy anymore. Neither is Al," he added.

"I know." She sighed, dusting her hands into the bin.

"Do you?"

She looked over at her son, looking ridiculous in goggles and a mouth guard, holding the snargaluff tentacles out of the way so Cameron could retrieve another pod, and nodded.

"I haven't—the boys have been impressed by how well I know the secret passages and staircases, but I haven't told them why."

"Or why you always sit facing the Slytherin table."

"Their sister is a Slytherin."

"Shit," Neville said, wincing. "I forgot about that."

"Harry and I have always tried not to pass on our own prejudices, but ever since Lily was Sorted, we've been extra-careful what we say about Slytherin House."

"Well, there's no hiding what Slytherin was. You'll just have to emphasize that's not what Slytherin is."

"It's not?"

"I won't pretend they're the best-liked house, but it has the feel of normal schoolyard rivalry, not—"

"Torture, death, and mayhem?"

"Exactly." Neville smiled at her, then clapped his hands, walking up the aisle. "All right, class, clear up please! James, I need a word."

()()()()

Wednesday evening

Ginny waited outside the Fat Lady's portrait, having gone to her room after lessons to change into trousers and trainers. Since James had toned down the attitude a bit, she was experimenting with giving him a bit of space.

The entire Gryffindor Quidditch team emerged en mass, chattering loudly. Obsessed with James and making arrangements for work, Ginny hadn't thought to bring her own broomstick with her, but she was so excited to fly at Hogwarts, she didn't care if she had to use a school broom.

Five minutes into practice, Ginny was regretting this oversight immensely. She had been flying on international-standard racing brooms since her seventeenth birthday, when Harry and Ron bought her a Nimbus 4000, and she was spoiled. Determined not to interrupt James's practice, she climbed above the stands—at what seemed a snail's pace—and swung out over the grounds. Hogwarts looked so beautiful and peaceful from up here.

But there was Dumbledore's tomb, glowing white in the late-afternoon shadows, and she could make out the outline of the Shrieking Shack, where both Lupin and Snape had suffered. She had been sitting on this end of the stands when Harry appeared out of the maze with Cedric's body, and the Forbidden Forest still hid terrors best left in the past.

Ginny missed flying; she missed watching the teams practice and visiting with the players; she missed the energy and buzz of the newsroom just before deadline, the cushy chair in her office, the view out her kitchen window, her en suite bathroom; and Godric, how she missed Harry. They had written three times—her to him, him to her, and her to him again—but it wasn't enough. She wanted to see him; see his face light up when she entered the room, see his messy hair in the morning, see his smile. She missed tea in the mornings when they were both too sleepy to talk and seeing his towel hung up beside hers and the scratch of his stubble when they kissed hello in the evenings. She missed flirting with him to get the Quidditch section first and yelling at him to stop drinking from the milk carton and the way he always played with her hair whenever they were close.

She missed Harry enough that she was tempted to go home tonight, walk down to the gates after curfew and Apparate back before breakfast. They had been separated before, of course. Many times after the war, starting with her seventh year here at Hogwarts, but never by choice, and this felt a lot like choosing to be away from Harry. Ginny turned the broom in a wide arc, its radius unable to handle the sharp turns she was used to, and flew over the Black Lake back towards the pitch.

James needed her; she was still convinced of that. He had stopped being so hateful, but she didn't see anything to indicate he'd had a sincere change of heart. She needed to get him to open up to her, and maybe Neville was right.

Maybe she needed to open up first.