GINNY
Ginny twisted the tap on, and waited for the water to run warm. She cupped her hands, letting a small pool form before splashing her face to scrub off the grimy feel of the Floo powder from their return trip to Hogwarts.
Her body still felt weak and sensitive following the Honesty Shots the day before. The potion her mum had given her this morning was meant to settle her stomach, only Ginny figured that the combined ale and brandy were not the only reasons for her nausea.
She dried off with a towel and stared down her pale face in the mirror.
"Dean, I think I want to break up," she told her solemn-faced reflection. She cleared her throat and took a deep inhale through her nose. She repeated it again, this time in a deeper voice, trying to set her face in the correct combination of sympathetic confidence. "Dean, I'm breaking up with you."
Ginny blew a raspberry and examined her reflection, turning her head side to side. Had her hair really looked that flat when they walked back from McGonagall's office just now? Had Harry noticed? He was still brooding since the Grangers' visit at the Burrow, maybe he hadn't been looking.
Just the thought of him had caused a deeper, rounder blush to return to her cheeks. So that's what that looks like . She fought against an involuntary grin, replaying her favorite moments from Easter break for the thousandth time.
If he did fancy her, then for how long? Dean seemed to notice around Valentine's Day and that was months ago. She thought harder, retracing her steps with Harry. The only time she'd really talked to him before February was during Christmas at the Burrow.
Had it been since Christmas? When they'd shared secrets while ripping up cabbages? That was the first real conversation they'd had since summer, that must've been it.
Why hadn't he said anything? Since Christmas .
She remembered Dean and groaned in uncomfortable anticipation, trying to push Harry from her mind and yanked the elastic out of her hair.
She tore her eyes away from the mirror and rifled through her toiletry kit for a pumice stone. Her hands had grown new calluses from how much they'd flown this past week, even sometimes in the misting rain, and she'd forgotten to bring her Quidditch gloves home.
She worked the stone with an almost painful amount of friction across her hands, resentfully thinking how Ron was right - ditching someone wasn't as easy as she made it sound. Particularly not in light of Hermione's suggestion this morning that she was technically cheating on Dean.
She frowned down at the largest callus on the middle of her thumb and resumed her scrubbing. It wasn't as if she didn't try. She hadn't consciously suspected Harry was flirting with her until the Ravenclaw versus Slytherin match. Then it was break, and then it was… a lot more flirting.
Right? Asked that trained doubting voice in her head.
Yes. Shut up.
No more delaying. Ginny braced herself to face Dean. She threw her hair haphazardly back in the elastic and returned to the common room where she found him sitting with Seamus and Parvati.
"Hey Ginny," Dean said when she approached. He stood up to greet her with a hug and took a casual kiss on her lips before she could stop it. She looked around the common room to make sure no one had seen. "You don't look so good. Pale, I mean, are you feeling okay?" He asked, rubbing a thumb over her cheek.
"Yeah, fine," Ginny said, taking a step to distance herself from him. "Fred and George brought a game over last night, and we had a few drinks."
"Nice. What game?"
"They're experimenting with drinking games now," Ginny said matter of factly, shrugging her shoulders. She lowered her voice and asked him, "Listen, can we talk outside?"
"You, Harry, Ron and Hermione got drunk together?" Parvati interjected, leaning forward so she could read Ginny's reaction.
"Yeah, Fred and George too," Ginny said, sounding defensive even to herself. Seamus and Parvati made no attempt to hide a meaningful, judgmental look behind Dean's back. "Sorry, did I forget that I needed your permission, or something? Let's go, Dean."
Once outside the portrait hole, Ginny could sense the tense way Dean walked beside her. Out of earshot of several portraits, she stopped abruptly by the statue of a group of three witches with sneering faces with elaborately carved hairstyles, the middle one holding a large crystal ball.
Ginny turned to face Dean.
"Listen, Dean." She steeled herself, looking up to see a mixture of curiosity and concern. Ginny took a deep breath and began, "Ever since Slughorn's Party…"
Dean was nodding along to her story, seeming to encourage her as she retraced the key moments in their relationship, since that first real argument about Gwenog at the Christmas party, touching on their row over Valentine's dinner and finishing at their recent conversation regarding the Chamber of Secrets.
He must've felt it all too, judging by the way he was reacting. The same slipping foundation of their relationship crumbling under stupid arguments and tetchy feelings. That initial crush they'd had, now fizzled and flat.
"So, I think we should … I want to break up."
His face fell, as if it'd been the last thing he expected her to say. He began blinking rapidly, and shook his head as if he'd imagined it.
"I'm sorry, what?"
"I want to break up."
"Blimey, Ginny," he said, putting his hand to his forehead. "You're breaking up with me? I thought you were… I don't know… going to apologize or something."
"Apologize? For what?"
"All those times you mentioned, they're all times you wouldn't communicate with me, talk to me, tell me what you were really thinking."
"Excuse me?"
"You want to break up with me over those things? I didn't do anything wrong!"
"Nothing wrong? Dean, when I wanted to tell you about the Chamber of Secrets, all you wanted to talk about was your mum's chance encounter with a barmy bloke on a bus."
"That was traumatic for her! I was sympathizing with you!"
Ginny gaped up at him, unsure of what to address first - whether he thought "sympathizing" with someone was not closing his mouth long enough to hear their story, or the fact that he had been expecting an apology.
"I thought everything was good between us," he said, shaking his head in disbelief. "Ginny, I -" He reached for her arm, but she anticipated it this time and took a step back.
His hand fell limp to his side. Ginny endured the silence, feeling that it lasted a hundred hours, only broken by the screeching sound of a murder of crows passing just outside the window. "Can you just give me some time to process this?"
He looked at her with wide eyes that reminded her of a sad puppy. She'd always had a soft spot for hapless creatures.
So over the next week, Ginny learned that breaking it off with her perfectly fine affectionate boyfriend of nearly a year was going to be more difficult than a singular conversation.
Mainly because Dean seemed to be having trouble kicking the habit of the argue-talk-resolve cycle which they'd established earlier that term, leaving them now perpetually stuck in the tedious talking phase, characterized by prolonged silences, ambiguous endings, and several more attempts at fending off Dean's physical attempts to reconnect.
It took longer than she might've thought for Dean to bring Harry into their "talks." Ginny had debated with Hermione how much to tell him, and figured it'd be easiest to play defensive tactics on that particular subject. She wouldn't lie, but she also wouldn't reveal more than she had to … to spare his feelings.
By the end of that week though, Dean caught on to the scent and began asking questions ranging from "Has he said anything to you?" to "What did you two talk about over the break?" or "Does our break up have anything to do with him?" and "Do you like him again?"
Ginny clenched her teeth together. Her desire to be rid of Dean wrestled with her conviction that he understood their relationship to have broken independently of Harry.
"I want to break up because you and I aren't good for each other."
"But it has something to do with him, doesn't it?"
"Whether it does or not doesn't matter."
"Not if you're ditching me for him. C'mon, Ginny - "
"Please don't pull on my elbow like that."
In her fits of impatience, she'd taken to imagining all the other times she should've broken up with him: Slughorn's Party when he whined about not meeting Gwenog Jones. When she came back from Christmas break. Valentine's Day when he began his jealous tantrums. The Knock Out when he denigrated Harry. When Hermione had convinced her to tell him about the Chamber.
Sometimes when Ginny's resolution to be patient with him began to wane, she'd remember the twisting feeling she got when Hermione accused her of going too far with Harry over break, and imagine this last week spent with Dean as some sort of penalty for her behavior.
She hadn't meant to let things get like that with Harry, she'd tried to distance herself. But they were staying in the same house and she just couldn't help it.
Whenever Dean approached her now, if Harry was in the room, Ginny noticed how he would look away, pretend he hadn't noticed them, or walk off entirely. But Ginny kept a watchful eye - as much was safe given the circumstances - over Harry. Who, for his part, continued his moping and generally deflated attitude since returning from the Burrow.
The lack of his attention mingled with the guilt of outwardly appearing to still be in a relationship with Dean felt as though she'd lopped off her own arm, cast a Freezing Charm over it, and threw it over the peaks surrounding Hogwarts.
During Harry's pre-practice debriefs that week, Ginny made sure to sit several seats away from Dean. She barely heard a word Harry said, instead spent the time staring intently at him, pleading with him to look at her for more than a fleeting glance. Maybe then she could communicate to him, scream with her eyes that she was trying to ditch Dean, force him to return to the playful way they'd been at the Burrow.
What if the momentum they had built during break was interrupted? What if it became diluted by assignments, revising for O.W.L.s, and summer break would come soon. Quidditch would be over in a few weeks too, then there'd be even less excuses to talk to him.
Once she even considered returning to the Chamber, hoping Harry would follow her there, just to have a moment alone with him, immediately followed by an internal slap in the face and a Get yourself together that sounded eerily like her mother.
Ginny had even gone as far back in the instances as to resent Hermione's original advice to date other people. What if she'd just been a little more patient? Waited a little longer? Harry might've come around eventually anyway and she'd have had this year with him instead of Dean…
—
The common room had its normal relaxed Sunday morning feel. The other Gryffindors were lounging on the furniture, still in pajama bottoms, songs crackling pleasantly over the wireless, groups of friends filtering in and out for a late breakfast.
Today was the last Apparition lesson, Ginny knew this because Hermione kept mentioning it every time she saw her. Why a morning alone with Ron was anything to be excited about was beyond Ginny's comprehension. But that also meant Dean would be down in Hogsmeade.
Ginny cut across the common room, stomach rumbling, thinking about breakfast and how her dorm mate, Greta, was already out of the bed, maybe she'd link up with Colin or Demelza and …
Her feet stopped when she spotted Harry, who was sitting at a table by himself, head ducked down, quill scratching over parchment. It was so tantalizing, the thought of catching him on his own. She and Dean were effectively over, but her conscience ached, telling her not yet.
Ginny scanned the other occupants of the common room, hoping to find a reason not to walk over to Harry. There was no sign of Greta, Colin, Demelza, or any of her other teammates. She saw Lavender was sulking by the larger window with Romilda and her posse… an interesting combination, but it made sense, she supposed.
Her eyes continued to scan, but were pulled once again to Harry, who was now smiling at her, looking amused that she'd stopped, standing frozen in the middle of the common room.
"Morning," she said, approaching him and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, barely meeting his eyes. "Ron and Hermione in Hogsmeade for Apparition practice?"
"Yeah."
Ginny nodded slowly. Maybe if she didn't look directly at him, it'd be alright. She caught the look that Lavender and Romilda hurled at her from across the room, then looked down at the table, where Harry's hand twirled his quill forward and backward.
"I wonder if it's difficult for them," Ginny said after an awkward pause.
"What?"
"To Apparate with all those extra romantic feelings they're carrying around."
Harry snorted and she looked up. His eyes were twinkling and she saw the first trace of a smile she'd seen all week. "It helps if you replace one of the three D's with 'Denial'," he said.
"Three D's?"
"Oh… never mind…stupid Apparition joke," he said, his expression clouding back over and he looked down at his half finished essay. He pointed his quill toward the portrait hole and mumbled, "I think I saw Seamus and Dean head down too, if you were looking for them."
"I wasn't, but thanks," she said. "Have you had breakfast yet?"
"Yeah, just about … three hours ago," he said, making a show of checking his watch.
"Don't sleep shame me, Potter. An early lunch then?"
At first he appeared to hesitate at the invitation, but nodded and began clearing up his books and parchment. "Sure, I can walk with you. I've been meaning to try the Room of Requirement again before Hermione gets back."
Maybe it was a rash, and she'd surely pay for it later, but she couldn't help but feel thrilled and a little proud of herself for inviting Harry for a meal.
As they stepped through the passage, she turned back in time to see Lavender and Romilda ducking their heads together, whispering furiously.
"Has Ron done it yet?" She asked Harry as they stepped out of the passage.
"Ditched Lavender? No. Although I might do it soon if she keeps showing up to practices."
"But then you'll miss out on the 'Go! Go! Won-Won ! Go! Go! Won-Won !' after every save," Ginny said, mimicking Lavender's latest singing chant for Ron.
Harry groaned. "Please don't, it'll get stuck in my head again."
"How will Ron know to 'go' block the Quaffle?"
Harry laughed and they spent the rest of the walk chatting about the match. Ginny kept reminding herself to act natural, remain calm, pretend like every nerve in her body was not screaming that she was walking alone with Harry.
When they approached the staircase that led to the Room of Requirement, and she expected him to say goodbye and dash off to spy on Malfoy, but they walked passed it, and kept walking passed it, until he was sitting down across from her in the Great Hall as she pulled breakfast items onto her plate.
"How have you been doing?" Ginny asked, chancing a covert look at him across the table. "Since last weekend… with the Grangers?"
"I'm fine," he said in the least convincing voice imaginable. Harry's hand moved up to rub his scar with the heel of his hand, but he tried to cover it up by instead pushing the hair off his forehead.
"It's not your fault, you know, Harry. What happened with Hermione's parents."
He dragged his eyes upwards to give her a disparaging look and pulled a dry piece of toast onto his plate.
She and Ron knew he'd find a way to blame himself for Hermione's parents' anger at her involvement and proximity to dangerous war-time missions. Who knows how far his thoughts had festered that week, with Ron preoccupied over Lavender and her with Dean.
Ginny chewed, thinking up another tactic.
"It was terrifying to go to the Ministry last year. But we wanted to go. That was our choice. We all chose to be a part of the D.A. and fight back against the Toad for a reason. It meant something to all of us," she said, feeling the haunting weight of the hours she lost to Tom's diary. Joining the D.A. felt like the first real thing she did to finally fight back against Tom.
Harry stopped poking his toast and his eyes flicked down the table where Ginny saw Neville eating alone. While they watched, her dorm mate Greta, pearly white smile bordered by dimples, turned to ask him to pass the jam selection.
"And personally, I'm glad I did… Who else gets a view of London like that?"
Harry pulled his mouth into a half-grin, humoring her.
"Besides, it's Hermione's business what she tells her parents. It's between them. She's a genius and I know she always has a reason for what she does… Even if sometimes I think she's a bit too comfortable giving advice," Ginny cringed, she hadn't meant to say that last part out loud.
"Smart girl, that Hermione," Harry said, having read the look on her face.
"Exactly," Ginny smiled back. "But we love her."
Ginny waited to see if her words had had any effect on him, but he stayed quiet. She shifted uncomfortably, uncrossing her legs so that her foot accidentally nudged against his leg under the table. He gave a sharp intake of breath and winced, after a few seconds explained, "My leg's still bruised pretty badly."
"Aren't you a wizard?" she said, internally cringing over the circumstances in which she gave him said bruise. "There's balms for that."
Harry laughed, "Yeah, but I'm keeping it as a warning not to cross Ginny Weasley."
"You're lucky it wasn't my hex."
"I don't know, I figure I'm alright with defensive spells," he said with a cheeky grin.
She had meant to respond, but somehow the thought didn't make it to her mouth. She was used to most versions of Harry by now, but this rare show of arrogance was …different. He continued to stare at her, leaning both elbows on the table and waiting for her to respond.
Feeling the possibility of another butter dish joke, she returned, "Don't you have a ferret to catch?"
"Oh, blimey, you're right." Harry started and glanced down at his watch, giving Ginny just enough time to berate herself for suggesting that he had anywhere else to be. He pushed away from the table and got to his feet. "They'll be back soon. I'd better try before Hermione gets back… Thanks, Gin!"
She smiled down at her seasoned potatoes, every nerve singing with the sound of Harry's Gin , and decided that potatoes might be her most favorite food.
She'd been so worried that he'd forget her in the week they'd spent apart. But who was she kidding? This thing she had with Harry wasn't something that just went away. It sparked, it echoed, it blazed, it -
"I thought you hated when people called you that."
It came to a halt. Dean stood in front of her, casting a shadow over the table, blocking out the morning sun from above.
"I thought you had Apparition," she said reflexively.
"I did," Dean spat. "I came back early. Thought we could talk. But kind of seems like you've already done that with Harry."
"We were just -"
"No, really, I get it, Ginny. He's famous and heroic. It's hard to compete with all that. He got to save your life and I'll never -"
" Got to? " Ginny demanded, remembering Harry clutching his bleeding arm, sticky ink dripping off their hands and hair, the blank-eyed carcass of the Basilisk staring at them as though still watching. "You have no fucking clue what you're talking about."
"And whose fault is that?"
His face mirrored the countless accusations of her being too closed off and purposely withholding. It had come from teachers during her first year and family during the summer after.
Even other students during second year. Once people figured out she wasn't going to petrify them for asking, the questions about what happened in the Chamber came pouring out. Somehow it seemed to offend people when she wouldn't disclose her trauma to satisfy their shock factor.
Now Dean stood looking down on her, his wide brown eyes appearing to scald her, expecting her to feel guilty about it. Even after she'd spent the last week trying to soften his feelings about being dumped.
Sheltering secrets and hiding half truths had never worked for her before. She shouldn't have wasted her time.
"Those aren't the reasons I like him so much."
His face contorted, and he shook his head slowly back and forth.
"At least we're being honest now."
"Are we broken up yet?"
"Why? So you can go be with Harry?" He turned and marched away before she could respond, leaving her stewing over his pettiness.
Ginny stared down at her plate again, not wanting to look up and see if any faces had been turned in her direction. After waiting several minutes for Dean to get sufficient head start, she pushed herself away from the table and left the dining hall.
—-
She couldn't find him for the rest of the day. Ginny guessed that keeping her in relationship purgatory was his attempt to wound her. However, she found the distance suited her quite well. It wasn't until the next day that he finally sought her out.
He found her on the way to the common room after she'd stayed late in Care of Magical Creatures, helping Hagrid gather the last of the Stinksaps Scarabs into their terrarium. He'd been distracted throughout class, at one point squashing several of the shiny black reeky beetles because of his misty eyes. When she'd asked him what was the matter, he patted her gruffly on the back and replied, "Now don' yeh worry abou' me, I'll be alrigh'… be alrigh'…" And Ginny didn't press the issue, hoping to escape the putrid smell of the classroom.
"Hey, can we talk?"
What a surprise, Dean wants to talk.
"Fine… I just want to change out of my robes first," she said, hurrying along the corridor. She could sense him now, with his miserable loping gait behind her.
She gave the Fat Lady the password and stepped forward into the passage. She felt movement from just beside her, another one of Dean's breeze-like touches.
"Don't push me, please, Dean," she said, sounding annoyed. "You're always doing that, I can get through perfectly well on my own."
"I didn't touch you, Ginny."
"I felt you push me… Godric, you're such a hypocrite."
"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"
She turned on him. "All the times you've accused me of lying? 'Just be honest with me, Ginny'… 'I really need to tell me the truth, " she said, using tones she normally only reserved to mock Crabbe and Goyle. "I'm not a liar, Dean."
"Yes, you are! I saw you with him!"
Fortunately for Dean, his retort was drowned out by sharper, more vicious screams coming from the common room. Ginny stepped down from the passageway as if entering a gladiator's arena. Lavender's wild mane was tossing side to side, casting vicious insults at Hermione and her brother. Not that she envied Ron, but at least his break up only lasted two minutes. She'd prefer a scream in the face to this silent prolonged bleeding to death of a relationship.
She turned to Dean, intending to share the shock of what had just happened until she saw his somber face.
He was blinking rapidly, looking down at his shoes. For a time he was quiet like the rest of the common room. Ginny shifted side to side, anxious to change out of her stinking robes.
He didn't speak again until the usual hum of conversation resumed.
"I want to yell at you too… but somehow I don't think you'd even care… I want to make you feel as bad as I do, I … ," his voice trailed off. Ginny looked up into his kind, once comforting face, now screwed up and angry, refusing to make eye contact with her.
"You're making this harder than it has to be, Dean."
His eyes flashed in anger, and at first she expected him to fight back in some way or storm off from her, but instead she saw his face slip and weaken into acceptance.
"Yeah … So, yeah, I guess we're broken up."
Ginny's hand that had been clenching her robes relaxed, as if releasing days, weeks, months of tension. His statement hung in the air, the silence expanding between them.
Dean stayed rooted in the spot, appearing to wrestle with himself and on the verge of saying something more.
"I've been too afraid to ask, but I just need to know… Did you cheat on me?" Dean asked, as if tasting poison. He squeezed his eyes shut, as if he didn't even want to know the answer himself. "When we were together… did you two … have you kissed him?"
Kiss him. How strange for it to be Dean to be the one voicing this into existence. No. She hadn't kissed Harry.
Sure thought about it.
Plenty of times, more than she could count, more than she was probably conscious of. Imagining the details, crafting the scenarios, torturing herself with what if's and if only's…Deep in the orchard behind the Burrow… Snuggled on the couches in the common room… Hidden in secret passageways…
Ginny could still remember the sheer panic, the unbearable ripping embarrassment of being caught kissing Dean by Harry and Ron. She'd never wanted Harry to see that. Compounded by Ron's implied insults, it all caused her to see red and choose fight over flight.
It was more clear to her now than ever before: this had been real for Dean.
The realization added to her regret for allowing this relationship to revive as often as it had. Or, at the very least, agreeing to it at all.
"No. I honestly haven't… But I'm sorry … I'm sorry I let it go on like this," she said truthfully, fighting the bizarre urge to give him a hug. Dean simply stared down at the floor. She wondered if she should stay there, searching for some comforting words to give him, but couldn't think of anything better than a cliche.
"'Bye, Dean."
She backed away slowly, and when she turned to go, his head was still hanging down, looking miserable, like a living version of Nearly Headless Nick.
—
"Sorry to hear about you and Dean, Ginny," Justin Finch-Fletchley said the next morning at breakfast, scooting over to sit across from her.
Ginny and Greta had come down to breakfast together that morning, and not wanting to be anywhere near the Gryffindor table, Ginny had steered her towards the Hufflepuff table to sit amongst several of the former D.A. members.
"Rubbish night for Gryffindor couples. Is it true that Lavender Brown threw a set of scales at Ron?" Ernie Macmillian asked.
Ginny and Greta laughed. "Is that what they're saying?" Ginny asked, thinking about the symbolism of it all.
"She didn't throw anything," Greta added, who had also been in the common room when Lavender discovered Ron and Hermione coming down together from the boy's dormitory. "Although, she certainly looked like she wanted to."
"Have all the Dumbledore's Army couples broken up then?" Susan Bones asked.
"I think so," Ernie said, ticking off his fingers. "Well, unless Ron and Hermione start dating now."
"Cho and Michael?" Ginny offered.
"No, they broke up a few weeks ago … But that's good news! Maybe their split will help your chances for the match," Greta said with a smile to Ginny, folding a napkin over her lap, not realizing that this did not, in fact, feel like good news at all. "Oh, I still really wish I'd have joined the D.A.," Greta said with a small sigh.
Ginny didn't doubt that she meant it, but still felt it was easier for Greta to say now that the D.A. had been disbanded and the danger of joining theoretically gone with it.
Greta's father, who worked as some public relations representative for the Department of International Magical Cooperation, was hoping to soon be elected into the Wizengamot. Last year Ginny had asked Greta more than once to join Dumbledore's Army, but Greta would wrinkle her face and regretfully explain that she couldn't jeopardize her father's status at the Ministry by directly subverting oversight from the Ministry.
And despite being the most sociable person Ginny knew, something of a roving nomad amongst the years and houses, Greta belonged only to herself. What she doled out in amicable interactions, she received back in others' gossip and confidences.
All except Ginny, of course. Who rarely revealed any personal information to Greta. Well, to anyone, really, as Dean had pointed out. Most people regarded Ginny and Greta as being close friends, yet Ginny felt that she didn't know much about her other than day-to-day happenings at school.
Ginny was pulled out of her thoughts by Harry, Ron and Hermione entering the Great Hall, walking quickly and (predictably) finding a place to sit far from any other Gryffindors.
"I can't wait to tell Harry about you and Dean during Charms tomorrow," Hermione had said the night before.
"Where was he during all of it? I didn't notice him in the common room."
"He was doing something for Dumbledore tonight," Hermione said. The look on her face made Ginny wonder if she regretted replying so honestly. While Ginny was one of the few that did know Harry met with Dumbledore for lessons, the subject was still avoided with a twenty-foot goal post.
"Funny how both Ron and I broke up on the same night, at the exact same time, isn't it?"
"Just lucky, I suppose," Hermione said, seeming to share a smile with herself.
Now this morning, the three of them sat, leaning their heads close together. Harry was facing Ginny's direction, but he hadn't noticed her. He was speaking fast, apparently recounting the story of last night to Ron and Hermione. From her place at the Hufflepuff table, Ginny squinted, trying to read his lips ( purely for espionage purposes, she told herself) to pick up clues about last night's mission for Dumbledore.
It was nearly impossible, and Justin kept trying to make conversation with her, or moving his head in her line of sight. She caught Harry scanning the professors at the head table, thought she might've seen him say "Slughorn" and returned to his story.
Ginny scanned the table too, Professor Slughorn was missing from the head table.
Her mind immediately went to the possibility that Slughorn might've been hurt or taken, but turning back to see Harry looking amused, even accomplished, the thought faded.
He continued speaking, hands gesturing, pausing for their reactions, but she couldn't make out any of it. Two other Hufflepuffs in her year attempted to strike up conversation, glad to see her at their table again. Ginny listened to them "catching up" while nodding and glancing every few seconds back at Harry.
The familiar pang of jealousy returned, especially given her current placement at a different house's table beside Greta again. Just like second and third year, carried along as her shadow, making acquaintances by association. Although, she supposed she should be grateful. Overtime, Greta's stamp of approval helped obscure her label of possessed puppet of the Heir of Slytherin.
What she wouldn't give to have a seat at her own table with HarryRonHermione , to be in on their secrets, to know the subject of the Dumbledore lessons.
Her eyes were drawn back to Harry just in time to catch the unmistakable way he said "Voldemort" - the lift of his brow, the quick sideways glance, the set determined face.
Ginny froze and the Great Hall fell away.
So the Old Slug retired, then, did he?
Slug?
Professor Horace Slughorn. He was the potions master when I attended Hogwarts.
Was he nice? Did he shower, at least?
I knew him well.
He sounds better than slimy, pigheaded Snape.
Why does Professor Snape hate Harry Potter, Ginny?
Her heart started pounding. Her first irrational thought was that they'd gotten ahold of the diary. But no, of course it'd been destroyed.
She'd known the name Slughorn from both Tom and her parents. But never thought about it past vague wonderings if her new potions master remembered much about school aged Tom. Was it possible Tom told Harry about Slughorn too? Or Slughorn told Harry he knew You-Know-Who? Was there a connection?
"Ginny? Are you alright?" Greta asked, pulling her out of her trance, where she had apparently been staring fixedly at the carafe of pumpkin juice. Greta's blue eyes were wide with concern. "Wait. You're not allergic to pumpkin juice, are you? Do you need me to take you to the hospital wing?"
"No, nothing like that. I was just … really thirsty," Ginny said, and tried to steady her hand as she poured herself a glass, ignoring the strange looks she received from those around her.
When Ginny looked back to the Gryffindor table, it was now just Ron and Harry sitting together. Hermione must've gone in the time Ginny was recalling her conversation with Tom.
Harry looked much more relaxed now, even reaching for a second helping of breakfast. As she watched him, he seemed to search up and down the Gryffindor table for someone. Not finding them, he frowned a little and returned to his breakfast.
Ron eventually said something that made Harry laugh. When he looked up, his eyes immediately slipped past Ron and landed on her.
He sat up a little straighter, pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his smile grew somehow wider, and he might as well have stunned her.
He tilted his head to ask what she was doing at the Hufflepuff table, but before she could respond, Errol tumbled onto the table, sending a cloud of feathers to obscure her view of him.
–
Half an hour later, she shuffled into the potions classroom with the other fifth year Gryffindors and Ravenclaws. They immediately noticed there was no prepared potion brewing on the center table today, only a piece of chalk that had been enchanted to scratch clumsily across the board, writing a list of "Commonly Tested Potions - Prepping for O.W.L.'s."
After his short pronouncement that they'd be practicing the perfection of simple potions, Professor Slughorn heaved himself into the instructor's chair and began taking delicate sips out of a steaming mug.
Ginny, Luna and Greta all sat down at a shared table, pulling out their texts and cauldrons. "Does Sluggie look sick to you?" Greta whispered, concern painted across her face.
"Yes, he may have Squabb's Syndrome. The red coloration of his face may be an early sign. I've suspected it since I first saw him."
"Only dragons can get that, Luna," Ginny whispered back, immediately recognizing the signs of overindulgence and her stomach gave a commiserating twist. "He's hungover."
After class, Ginny took her time packing her things, signaling the others that she'd catch up. She approached Slughorn's desk, who she suspected might've drifted off midway through class, and pushed her corked Ginger Pop Potion across to him. "Here, Professor. My mum makes this for us when we're not feeling well."
"Ah, thank you, Miss Weasley," the professor said, pulling the cork off to inspect her potion. "As you may have guessed, I overindulged yesterday evening with a bereft friend."
"I'm sorry to hear that, sir," Ginny said, arranging her face to be an appropriate level of respectful sadness while internally shaking him to reveal more.
"Very tough time for him, very tough. You see, his pet died and -"
"It didn't happen to be Hagrid, sir?" Ginny cut in, remembering Hagrid's giant sized tears from the evening before. "Professor Hagrid, I mean."
"Why, yes!" Slughorn said, looking impressed.
"Fang died?" Ginny asked, feeling suddenly panicked, trying to remember if she'd seen Hagrid's gentle-tempered hound roaming and sniffing around Hagrid's hut yesterday as she'd walked to class.
"No, no, nothing like that. It was an Acromantula. Very rare. Named it Attarog," Slughorn said, bowing his head in a show of reverence. "And I daresay, I shouldn't tell you this for several reasons… But, I might not've made it back up to the castle without our mutual friend Mr. Potter…"
So Harry was down at Hagrid's last night, Ginny thought as she sped out of the dungeons, taking the stairs two at a time. Slughorn had gone on to mention that he, Hagrid and Harry had held a funeral for Aragog. A vigil for a murderous, famously horrifying animal… possibly the most Hagrid thing she'd ever heard.
But why had Harry gone? What did a gargantuan spider funeral have to do with his Dumbledore lessons?
It had to be connected with the fight against You-Know-Who, obviously. Maybe Dumbledore had sent them as proxies, representatives to appeal to the masses of Aragog's relatives. Hagrid, the human mediary. Slughorn, You-Know-Who's former Head of House. And Harry, the Chosen … she hesitated … and Harry.
Dumbledore must be teaching him how to gather support, organize a movement against You-Know-Who. He'd proven himself more than capable both as the leader of the D.A. and the Quidditch captain.
The plan must've gone over well, judging from the look on Harry's face this morning. They'd even had drinks afterward. She sped forward, exhilarated by the brilliance of her discovery and tried to reach the dining hall before the end of break.
"Ginny!"
She whirled around at the sound of her name and watched Harry jog up the steps after her. He paused to catch his breath before saying, "I've been calling you."
"Sorry… distracted. I just ran up the stairs too," she said, giving an explanation to what she guessed was a very red face.
"I know," he said, his breath slowing. "I wanted to tell you… Katie's back."
Ginny blinked up at him for several seconds until the words registered and her brain revved back up to normal operations. "Oh! That's - that's fantastic! And she's healthy? She can play?"
"Yeah, she's feeling great. Released from St. Mungo's earlier this week," he said. They stood, grinning at each other for what felt like an embarrassingly long time.
"I can't wait to see her… And that means we actually have a really good chance at the Cup!"
"Exactly what I thought," he said, but then pulled the smile off his face, trying instead to replace it with a more serious expression. "But - er - you should know… I had to tell Dean that Katie's taking her spot back. That he doesn't need to be on the team anymore."
"Right," Ginny said. Her heart drummed against her chest. She wondered how Dean might've taken the news coming from Harry, particularly given their break up the night before. "Well, I suppose that'll make things less awkward… We broke up last night."
"Oh, really? I'm - er - I'm really sorry."
Most people regarded Harry as an extremely private person. He didn't speak much, kept to the same friends, clearly had secrets - even from her. And yet, it was all there, splashed across his face.
He was a terrible liar.
"Thanks," she said, unable to keep herself from smiling. "I'm not though."
Harry's eyebrows drew together, looking mildly confused. And she, still beaming, squeezed his arm as she passed. "See you at practice, Harry."
—
"How are you feeling?" Ginny asked Katie that afternoon at practice. The two of them were hovering twenty feet off the ground, adjusting their gloves after their first flight around the pitch, waiting for Demelza to bring the Quaffle.
"Really fantastic, actually. I thought I wouldn't be able to make it back for my last match," Katie said with a sweeping look around the pitch and Ginny tried to imagine what it'd be like to know that she'd be playing her last match on this pitch. "It's just hard to keep track."
"Of what?"
"How many times Harry looked at you during his debrief. And in the last ten minutes. Oh look, there's one more," Katie said, grinning. "When did you two start dating?"
"Oh, erm…" Ginny started. The wind took a gentle shift, pulling tendrils of hair across her face. She pushed them back, wondering if the scarlet of her Gryffindor Quidditch robes had always been so bright red, or if it was simply a bright day. "Well…"
Demelza came rounding around the pitch, doing that thing she always does where she loosely zig-zags to a stop. "Katie, it is so good to have you back. Having you here feels like it's energizing the team. Jimmy and Ritchie finally just let me see their duo juggling act that they're preparing for the match… they're actually really good!" Demelza said, tossing Katie the Quaffle. "We needed a win after the last match. But ooooh, I do feel bad for Dean, though. Was he upset, Ginny?"
"I dunno," Ginny said, peering sideways at Katie. "We broke up last night."
"Ohhh," Katie said, nodding with a knowing smile. "I see."
"It wasn't like that," said Ginny, grinning and tossing her a hard pass.
"What are you two talking about?" Demelza asked, searching their faces. "Oh, do you mean whatever's going on between Harry and Ginny?"
"Demelza!"
"What?! Anybody with eyeballs can see that Harry's been dying to kick Dean off the team all season. And it's not because Dean's bad at Quidditch."
"Harry has not been-"
"Katie, you should have seen Harry and Ginny yelling at each other a few weeks ago. I've never seen that much passion in my life. I swore they were going to start making out in front of the whole team… Losing his spot on the team and his girlfriend in one day? Tough break for Dean…" Demelza said, lobbing an arching pass to Ginny, who wondered what Dean might be doing right now. She imagined him surrounded by his judgey friends, all gossiping about her and exchanging their stories. "He's such a sweetie, but…"
"He's no Harry," Katie said.
"Exactly," Demelza giggled.
"Will you two stop?"
"What took you so long to ditch Dean, Ginny?"
"Weren't you saying two seconds ago how bad you feel for him?"
"Aww, I remember when little Harry first joined the team, all wobbly knees and glasses with his 'please's' and 'thank you's'," Katie said, looking down at the ground with a reminiscent smile where Harry was giving instructions to Jimmy and Ritchie. "Now he's the Chosen One, a head taller than me, and fit as fuck."
"You don't have to tell Ginny, though," Demelza said, wagging her eyebrows at Ginny. "Well?"
"Well, what?"
"Have you two talked?" Demelza insisted. "Did he say anything?"
"Shut up, he's coming," Ginny said, watching Harry kick off from the ground and speed towards them. Her heart gave a startled flutter and began hammering in her chest, unable to help a smile from splitting across her face. The other two saw her reaction, squealed like mice and started shoving playfully at her broom.
"Hey, is everything… okay?" Harry said, with that cautious look boys have when they approach a group of giggling girls.
"For some of us more than others, Harry," Demelza said, flashing a grin across at Ginny and Katie, who both rolled their eyes.
"Alright, then," Harry said. "Katie, you'll be down at the posts with Ron so you can practice shooting for the first half of practice. Demelza, you'll be target practice for Jimmy and Ritchie -"
"Oh, joy," Demelza said under her breath.
"Ritchie's gotten loads better, he won't let any past him this time, we'll all meet back to practice formations in an hour," Harry said, giving her a reassuring smile before she sped off to join the beaters. Harry then lowered his voice, and said, "Ginny, you and I'll be seeking with the practice Snitches."
They spent the next ten minutes rifling through the box of old Snitches, testing them out to see which ones still had the most life left in them. She listened as he told her how Snitches seemed to have patterns, personalities almost, that gave them a slight degree of predictability. A few times, she and Harry shared a small smile, but he seemed to be reading her with cautious, appraising glances, as if unsure whether or not she might start crying or talking about her breakup with Dean. When they'd each gathered as many as they could carry, they returned to the pitch and let them loose.
She could feel his gaze on her throughout practice, watching her like she was playing in the World Cup. It was warm there, in his spotlight. It seemed to give her even more focus on her form, going as far as to show off. Why not give him something to watch?
Being around Harry seemed to have the opposite effect than it used to when she was eleven and effectively mute. Now she blurted whatever came to her mind, loud jokes and impressions tumbling out of her mouth as if they'd been pent up for years. And sometimes she couldn't decide if she was smiling because of the joke she'd made, or from the euphoria of him looking at her like that.
Over the next week, it got to the point that when every door opened, she looked up, expecting to see him coming through. Every morning she woke up, a spark of hope in her chest, thinking maybe this would be the day something would finally happen between spent the day cataloging the details of his face, lips when talking, when did his arms get like that and why were the school uniforms long sleeve? Wondering what it'd be like to run his hands through his hair and hear him call her Gin.
When the nights came, the sleepless nights, rolling side to side in her bed, grinning like an idiot into her pillow, she could allow the details of him to fill her imaginings of all the places they could be alone, the memorized feel of his hand on her ankle, and what they'd do when they finally were…
However, this meant that by early the afternoons she was exhausted, her eyes aching and scratchy with lack of sleep. Yet her mind was wide awake, alert, stretching, and spinning, not able to stay still long enough to focus on her studies.
"Will you get up from the floor?"
"What's the point, Hermione? I can't focus anyway."
"Have you considered asking him ?"
"He knows I like him. Everyone in the school knows," Ginny said, and the faces of Dean's friends, Romilda Vane, and her Quidditch team spun to the surface before quickly shooting away, replaced with Harry leaning across the table with a full view of her blushing face. "I don't want to look desperate."
"No… you wouldn't want that," Hermione said, with a brief glance over her shoulder at Ginny. Hermione was seated in one of the straight-backed library chairs, blocking a view of Ginny from any onlookers.
"You know what I mean… It's only fair that he makes the first move…" Ginny said, dragging both hands through her hair, undoing tiny knots as she went. "But what is taking him so bloody long?"
"Well, you know, Cho had to -"
"Don't you dare finish that sentence," she said, kicking the bottom of Hermione's chair.
Hermione snickered, apparently enjoying herself at Ginny's expense, and returned to consulting her text for several minutes. Ginny wondered if she was tired of listening to her. "I think it's Ron," Hermione finally said.
"What about him?"
"Ron's Harry's best friend."
"I don't see why he's relevant."
"Just think about it… If Harry fancies you - and he does - he must be considering how Ron will react to see you two together. We all know Ron can be ... delicate… about relationships. Not to mention when you and Ron argued over them catching you with Dean. Harry doesn't want to risk losing his friendship with Ron, who just happens to be -"
"An overprotective twat, yeah, I know," Ginny said, bouncing her foot up and down. "Do you think they've talked about it?"
Hermione simply raised one eyebrow, giving her a look that said Really?
"Point taken," Ginny said, gently tapping her head against the floorboards. "Of course it'd be Ron to ruin this for me."
"He's not ruining anything, he just cares about you."
Ginny sniffed. "Did he tell you that on your date to Hogsmeade?"
"It wasn't a date."
"I heard you canoodled in a dimly lit booth at the Three Broomsticks."
"It was properly lit."
There was a short silence before they looked at each other and both erupted into snorting giggles.
"So you didn't talk about how Lavender basically broke up with him over you two?
What were you two doing up there all alone, anyway?"
"We weren't alone, Harry just happened to be under the Cloak at the time."
"What about Honesty Shots? You have actual proof he feels the same."
"Him having feelings and him saying he has them are two very different things."
"And how did it go when you told him how you feel?" Ginny asked, knowing perfectly well that she hadn't.
Hermione closed her book shut and returned, "You're just like Harry, you know. You two deserve each other…" But as she said it, Hermione's expression became soft with sentimentality. "I actually mean that… What will you do?"
"I have to convince him to get over my stupid brother, don't I?" Ginny said, and returned to gazing up at the elaborate construction of arching stone pillars supporting the library's ceiling, wondering what scenario would convince him to take the leap, forget Ron, and be with her.
Ginny thought about the calm approach that Hermione took to her relationship with Ron. Hermione had her "romantic feelings" for her brother just as long as Ginny had for Harry. Yet, Hermione could sit there patiently, focusing on her studies, as if trusting that something would develop and mature out of her patient waiting.
"So Harry was under the Cloak when Lavender saw you and Ron?"
"He was on his way out," Hermione replied, putting a drying spell on her inked parchment and rolling up her finished assignment.
"So he was leaving when Dean and I came into the common room?"
"Must've been."
Ginny sat straight up. "And he left through the portrait hole?"
"You can't Apparate inside Hogwarts, how many times do I - "
"Hermione," Ginny grabbed Hermione's arm. "Did I break up with Dean because of Harry?!"
—
She'd approached them plenty of times before and this time it should be no different. She knew all of them, had spent plenty of time with all three of them. Together and alone. But this was new, somehow. Uncharted territory.
She'd just gotten back from dinner with Luna (who'd brought her a Quibbler article from several years back entitled "Magical Creature Maladies Taking Swipes at Humans?") to find Harry, Ron and Hermione lounging in their three squashy chairs. The ones everyone knew were theirs, like reserved seats at the family table.
Hermione was folded sideways in her chair, a massive book propped between her knees, clutching a mug to her chest.
Ron lay slumped and snoring softly, his head cradled by the wing of his chair, legs propped up on the centered table.
Harry sat bent over what Ginny knew to be his Quidditch notebook, scratching plays and notes with his quill.
Two out of the three looked up as she approached and asked to join. She sank down onto the softly padded rug and sat cross legged on the floor. She pulled several books out of her bag, pushing away the thought that she was sitting at the kid's table.
"You're working on Defense?" Harry asked once she'd gotten settled.
"Yup," Ginny replied. "Essay due tomorrow. But I also have to cram for this Charms examination tomorrow, and we have Muggles Studies portfolios due next week."
"I could look it over, if you like, the essay."
"That'd be amazing, actually. Only if you're not busy," she said, pleased to see her scheme had worked.
As Harry folded up his notebook, Ginny wiggled her eyebrows at Hermione who returned with a playfully exasperated eye roll.
He sat at the corner of the table adjacent to her and pulled her parchment towards him. "You've got nice handwriting," he said as he read the headline of her essay.
"Thanks," Ginny said, adding it to her growing mental list of Harry compliments she'd now received. The air between them felt charged, as if pulling her in. "Yours is okay too… Posh, though."
"Posh?"
"Yeah with the little swirly g's and y's. Who're trying to impress with those?"
Harry laughed. "What, you don't like them?" he asked, taking his quill, testing out his handwriting by scratching her name across the top of her parchment. Watching him accent the y's of her name thrilled her in a way she couldn't quite describe.
"No, I do. I'm only saying it looks like you've signed one too many photographs."
Harry chuckled. "Then you're not getting one."
Emboldened by new bravery, she plucked the quill out of his hand and tested out his name with her own looping handwriting. "Not even the one from the Prophet of you fighting the Hungarian Horntail?" She asked.
"I never signed one of those," he said, eyes squeezed shut, shaking his head at the memory.
"Don't be embarrassed, Harry. It was the first time people got to witness your heroics. Only natural you should want it documented," Ginny said, sliding the quill back into his hand, letting the tips of her fingers linger there, touching more of his hand than was strictly necessary.
She wasn't ready for the effect his look would have on her, like she'd melted and the only thing holding her up was his eyes. On her . They seemed to dance between hers for a moment, then down to her lips and quickly back up.
Ron gave a loud, shuddering snore making Harry flinch away.
Still stunned, Ginny looked up to Hermione, who's laughing eyes peeked over the top of her book saying I told you so.
Harry was now rubbing the back of his head, reading - or pretending to read - her essay. How could he actually be focusing after that? Her heart continued to race, her body now lost the power of movement, her brain buzzing and incapable of intelligent thought.
"You could talk about this a little more," he said half an hour later. "How the Ministry started studying the long term effects on victims of the Unforgivable Curses. They started covering it all up in the last few years. Although Snape would probably mark you down for it," he shrugged and continued. "Truth is, they don't really know. Well, obviously, except the Killing Curse…" Ginny looked up from the parchment to see he was now studying her reaction. She refused to let her eyes travel up to his scar.
"Although," he continued. He had a curious, almost faraway expression, almost as if he'd spent too long in Trelawney's steamy classroom. "Theoretically, there could be reverse impacts on the one casting it, especially if -"
He stopped speaking abruptly. They both looked up in response to Hermione who'd just given the most Umbridge-like cough. Her face was now completely hidden by her textbook Ancient Runes in the Modern World .
The three of them had always kept her in the dark, hiding their privileged information and undercover conspiracies. And although Ginny was shite at reading lips, she could read their shift in body language and could tell that Harry had been about to reveal something important.
"Anyway. Your essay is really, really good. I made just a few notes," Harry said, throwing her a reserved smile before reaching for his book and returning to the chair.
Hermione shifted out of her relaxed position on the couch, readjusting her book so that Harry was in her direct line of sight. The frequent overt glances she threw in Harry's direction felt like reprimands, but he ignored them and the evening passed in relative silence. Apart from Ron's jarring snores.