"Why"
Causality. There is no escape from it, we are slaves to it.
Our only hope, our only peace is to understand it; to understand the "why".
The Merovingian from "The Matrix Reloaded".
Harry tossed and turned in his bed, and barely slept a wink that night. He kept thinking of Ginny's words repeatedly. She was right; he was a pathetic loser. This catastrophe had been his own doing, and he was determined to face the consequences like a man despite the tears he felt like shedding. Silence enveloped him in the absence of the sounds from Ginny's flat, making time come almost to a standstill. He looked at his wristwatch a couple of dozen times during the night hoping it would soon be morning, but each time the hands had moved just a few minutes. He was in a state between sleep and alertness when he heard Ginny's door being closed as she left for work.
His first instinct was to rush to the door and see her through the peephole, but he stopped himself. He had grown accustomed to seeing her face and exchanging a few words every morning. The realization that no longer was possible left him gasping for air. He sat on one of the chairs of the dinner table and buried his face in his hands. He felt tired and numb.
Harry needed to do something. Whenever he had lost someone, it was only having a mission to complete that had gotten him through the pain. He tried to concentrate on his mission for the day, taking care of Steven Livingston. He took a shower and called Johann to arrange breakfast in the hotel with the rest of the team. He was there an hour later.
"You look like shit, Harry," Zubi said taking a seat and putting his buffet breakfast on the table.
"Good morning to you too, Koldo. Where are the others?" Harry replied taking a sip from a steaming cup of coffee.
"They'll be here shortly. I think civilian life is making them soft. It takes them forever to get ready."
"Maybe you should relax and try to enjoy your holiday."
"I came here to help you, Harry, not for a vacation. Kraut was worried when he called me this morning, and seeing your face I can tell something is wrong."
"It's just insomnia. I'm anxious to finish this thing."
Zubi looked closely at Harry. He suspected he was not being completely honest. The arrival of Johann and Robert renewed the concerned comments, but Harry deflected their questions by claiming it was just a case of insomnia caused by pre-mission excitement. They ate breakfast going over their itinerary for the day.
Harry wanted to do the Trulock building first and the others saw no objection. After Becks had gathered all the data that could be useful, Harry was able to take out his frustration by trashing the equipment in flat 308. At the same time Kraut and Zubi had gone up to Ginny's flat to completely remove the cameras. Afterwards they went to the second building with bugged flats which was just a few blocks away, even closer to the University's campus. Harry trashed everything with a degree of fury that made the others worry. They simply watched as he tore everything to pieces mostly with his bare hands, greedily asking for more. After he was done, they headed for Steven's flat. Harry felt a lot less tense and almost relaxed after venting out his frustration. Steven was a lucky bloke.
Steven Livingston was in a foul mood. He had received a few e-mails from dissatisfied customers demanding credit because the live video feed was off-line. A couple of hours later, the entire website crashed. He suspected that Harry was involved, and if he was, he was going to have his thugs beat him until he was dead or in a hospital. He left work early to hurry back to his flat and check the main server. He got in the lift and just as the doors were about to close, a middle-aged man ran inside.
"Excusez-moi," the man said with a smile while pressing the button to one of the upper floors.
Steven scowled at the man. "Just great," he muttered barely audibly, "now we have a soap-dodging, cheese-eating, surrender monkey in the building".
They rode in silence until the lift stopped. "Au Revoir. Va te faire foutre!" the man said amiably as Steven exited.
He walked quickly down the corridor to his flat. He opened the door, there was a bright flash, and then everything went black.
Before he opened his eyes, several minutes later, Steven took note of the painful throbbing on the side of his face and realized he was tied to a chair. He opened his eyes and saw the man from the elevator, who immediately gave him a hard slap to the face.
"That's for calling me a soap-dodger," he said irritated before back-slapping his other cheek, "and that's for calling me a surrender monkey... I do like cheese, so you get a pass on that one."
Steven's eyes went wide when the man casually took out a knife from his jacket and walked to stand by the door. All the pain was gone, leaving only terror. The ability to talk had abandoned him completely.
"Put that away, Zubi," a man with a slight German accent said.
"No," Harry said commandingly. "We may still need Zubi's carving abilities."
Zubi smirked triumphantly at the German. There was another man in the room who was currently massaging his right hand.
"Should I soften him a bit more?" he asked with a Mancunian accent.
"No thanks, Becks. That's enough for now." Harry walked back and forth a couple of times in front of him, laughing silently. "You are in deep shite, Steven. You have no idea how deep. Lucky for you, there is only one demand I have to make of you." Harry stopped in front of him and spoke in a cold menacing voice. "This is going to be your only warning, Steven, so listen carefully. You are going to stay away from Ginny. If any video camera is installed in her flat; if any dodgy photo of her makes it to the Internet; if any pervert shows up at her door, I'm making you personally responsible." Harry started pacing again. "If any of that happens, my friends and I will pay you another visit... and it won't be a friendly visit like this one," he added warningly. "You will also extend the lease on her flat and maintain the same rent for as long as she wants to stay there. That's the least you owe her. Are we clear?"
"Y-y-yes."
"Just in case you get any ideas," the German said stepping forward. "In the unlikely case anything happens to Harry, you will have to deal with the three of us." He gestured to the man massaging his hand first. "This is Becks. He is a card-carrying member of the Red Army... the Manchester United Red Army. I'm sure you don't want a hooligan firm after your arse." He gestured to the man in the lift. "This is Zubi, a former 'Contra'. An arse like you probably doesn't know what that means, so let me just say that the American CIA had him trained as a sniper, among many other nasty things. He will put a bullet in your head from a range of fifteen hundred metres, easily. Finally, there is me. I was with the East German 'Stasi', which means you can't hide from me. I know everything about your life, and I've collected scent samples from you." He held up two sealed glass pickling jars. One had what appeared to be one of his dirty socks, and the other, a yellow piece of cloth. "I also have access to specially bred dogs that will track you anywhere and tear you to pieces when they find you."
"I-I swear..."
Zubi stepped forward. "The only reason you're still alive is because Harry doesn't want you wasted in a ditch just yet," he said with an American accent as he played with the knife. "I'm not as forgiving as he is. If one of your thugs comes near him again, I will come back here and acquaint you with the sharp end of this blade." In a split second he threw the knife and it stuck to the seat of the chair with a metallic clang just an inch from his crotch. Steven felt the involuntary flow of warm urine soak the seat of his trousers.
"Eww," Harry said alarmed as he quickly unstuck the knife from the chair. "That's my new knife, Zubi," Harry said a bit irritated.
"Sorry," he replied apologetically. "Give it to me. I'll wash it."
"With soap, please."
As Zubi left, the third man moved forward. "Before we leave, I just wanted to remind you we have you by the bollocks." He held up an external hard drive. "We haven't shared this with the police," he said truthfully, "but we will if you give us any trouble. Also be aware that at any given moment there are at least a couple dozen members of the Red Army, in and around London. I only need to make a few phone calls for all of them to show up at your door. Our firm takes pride in keeping their reputation for violence, so DON'T FUCK WITH MY FRIEND," he screamed in his ear.
Harry walked behind him and untied him. "Have a nice day, Steven," he said before they all left.
The first day, Ginny had been too furious to be embarrassed. She wanted to physically hurt Harry because her own pain was almost physical. She convinced herself that she hated him and spent the day coming up with elaborate and painful revenge fantasies, most of them involving severe damage to his bits. The satisfying memory of punching him in the face allowed her to get through the day.
The second day, the embarrassment had been almost paralyzing. She spent every minute of the day and night trying to remember every detail of what she had done in her flat since Harry had moved in. It was a nightmare. For him to have heard her having sex was bad enough... but to have been heard wanking was the most mortifying thing she could imagine. The fact that she was a moaner and not a screamer was of little consolation because she was sure she had moaned pretty damn loud. The whole thing was made worse because she had been wanking to images of him, but at least the smarmy git did not know that... or maybe he did... the horror of that possibility, which in her mind became a certainty, was almost too much to bear.
Just as mortifying was to think of the things he had heard her do in the bathroom. She distinctly remembered him mentioning the loo and the bidet... sick bastard... and then realized he also said he heard her shaving and trimming.
How the bloody hell did he know THAT?
Ginny paused to think, and after a couple of minutes, became intensely aware of the sounds in her flat. It was surprising how much you can hear if you just listen. The clock, the fridge, the white noise coming from the street, the different items throughout the flat expanding and contracting due to temperature and humidity, even the sound of the filament inside the light bulbs could be heard if one just listened. Upon further reflection, the sounds of her shaving and trimming appeared positively sonorous.
The third day, the level to which her privacy had been violated hit her like a ton of bricks. Harry knew more about her personal habits and quirks than most married men know about their wives. What he had done was simply unforgivable, wasn't it? All her anger and embarrassment paled in comparison to the painful implication of that realization. She and Harry could never be together again, and despite her best efforts to convince herself this was a good thing, that it was good riddance to bad rubbish, it made her feel miserable. She could never love a sick pervert like him. Ginny figured it was only normal to feel so empty and heartbroken after such a disappointment, but somehow, she was going to get over Harry Potter.
The next Saturday morning Ginny went to the Leaky Cauldron feeling the distinct need to unburden herself of the thoughts and emotions that had been overwhelming her. Hermione was her unofficial psychotherapist just as much as she was hers, and today she needed a friendly ear more than ever. After the requisite greetings, and after Ginny set up some powerful privacy charms, the two friends sat down.
Ginny attempted to appear normal and to at least make some friendly conversation before moving on to her confession, but Hermione, being the perceptive witch that she was, immediately sensed something was wrong. "What is it?" she asked, worried.
Ginny gave up all pretence and spilled the beans. She skipped the date with Harry and directly told her about the wall probe and the things he said he had listened to. Hermione looked as horrified as she felt. Ginny was overcome with shame and embarrassment all over again, but somehow felt better after sharing it. The invective against Harry that followed made her feel even better. Hermione worked herself up into a frenzy and viciously called him names she had never thought of; degenerate freak, weirdo, aberrant knave, psycho bastard, her creativity for insults was quite impressive.
Hermione quickly moved from invective to righteous activism. "I'll check what laws he violated. I'm sure there must be something. You should denounce him to the police; he probably has done this before and will continue doing it until he is stopped..."
"Hermione, he just returned from Afghanistan. He's lived in barracks for the last five years, and before that, he never was alone. There always was a minder close to him because Voldemort was out to kill him. I doubt he had many opportunities to stalk his neighbours." Ginny squirmed uncomfortably in her seat. "I've spent the whole week thinking about this... maybe all of that affected him..."
"I can't believe you are defending him," Hermione said hotly.
"I'm not! He is a degenerate weirdo and all the other things you called him," Ginny's voice broke and her eyes filled with tears, "but I loved him once... and I find it really hard to hate him, even if I want to."
Hermione's expression softened and she felt compassion for her friend. It was a horrible situation she was in. "How did you find out. Did you find the microphone by accident?"
"He told me."
"He told you?" Hermione's mouth hung open in disbelief.
"Yes."
"WHY?"
Ginny realized she had never pondered that question. She had been so overcome with embarrassment, so focused in trying to hold on to her anger, that the question of why had never entered her mind. It was the key question. The one that held all the power. "We went out on a date," she said gloomily as Hermione leaned forward to listen better. "It was the most wonderful date I've ever been to. Harry was a perfect gentleman. He opened the doors, he held my seat, and he walked on the correct side of the pavement. We talked and laughed, and he said some really wonderful things to me. I've never wanted to be with a man as much as I wanted to be with Harry that night, Hermione. I wanted him to make love to me so badly, I was being really forward." Ginny's voice broke again. "He told me he loved me twice, and I told him I loved him too. Then he said he needed to show me something," Ginny blushed remembering how wrong she had been about that but continued. "We went into his flat and he showed me this thing on the wall. He handed me the headset, and after I listened, I realized what it was."
"Let me get this straight," Hermione said narrowing her eyebrows. "He showed you the microphone even though you had no clue about it?"
"Yes."
"...and he said he loved you before he showed you the microphone?"
"Yes."
"...and he could have made love to you, but didn't?"
Ginny nodded.
"Did you believe him?" Ginny looked up, so Hermione clarified her question. "When he said he loved you?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Ginny considered the question, feeling utterly miserable. Tears started streaking down her cheeks. "His eyes told me, even before he said it, his eyes told me so."
Hermione put a hand on top of Ginny's. "Do you still love him?"
"He tricked me. He lied to me. He pretended to be something he wasn't..."
"That is not what I asked..."
"NO. I don't love him. I hate him. I hate him with all my heart!"
"The lady doth protest too much, methinks."
"For Merlin's sake, Hermione! He heard me wanking! He heard me farting! Do you have any idea how mortifying that is? I couldn't even look at his face right now," Ginny said with a pained expression.
"You both know things about each other that you shouldn't. You know the size of his penis..."
Ginny turned red with anger, looking almost ready to hex Hermione. "It's not the same thing," she hissed. "I wasn't spying through a hole in the wall to look at his bits. How can you say that to me!"
"You are absolutely right,' Hermione said looking contrite. "I was out of line. I'm sorry, but I'm just trying to think of a way..."
"There is no way," Ginny interrupted. "I've been in love before, and I've fallen off love too. I can stop loving Harry, just the same."
"He loves you, Ginny. He loves you enough to tell you this horrible secret, and despite everything, you still love him... don't deny it," she added when Ginny tried to protest. "It just seems like such a waste."
"It's easy to be forgiving when you're not the one that was violated, because that's how I feel, Hermione. I feel like I've been raped."
The weight of that word stunned them both.
"That is a very heavy word, Ginny," Hermione said slowly. "You are a rational woman, and you know we sometimes work ourselves into a frenzy and say things that overreach. You are my friend, and I love you, and because I do, I don't want you to paint yourself into a corner. I will support you, and you can count on me for anything, but if you still feel anything for Harry, as a friend, I suggest you leave yourself a way out. Words are important, and if you use that word, you leave yourself no way out."
Ginny seemed to almost physically crumble, and the tears started to flow again. "No, rape is too strong a word, but he humiliated me. I have dignity, Hermione."
"Yes, and I'm proud of the dignity you have shown. I trust that you fell in love with Harry because you thought he was worthy of being loved, not because you thought he was perfect. All I'm saying is to give yourself some time to re-examine his worthiness. In due time you will either have stopped loving him and you can move on, or the wound that he caused you will have started to heal. Love is about courage, Ginny, and the noblest form of courageous love is forgiveness, because only a strong love can forgive. If you can't forgive him, then you are better off without him."
"It just seems that all these rocks have been thrown in our path," Ginny said dejectedly.
"Well, the rocks that have been thrown in your path will either make you stumble and turn away, or you can use them to build something strong and beautiful."
Ginny looked up to her friend and gave her just a hint of a smile. "You are in rare form today, Hermione."
The bushy haired brunette, laughed. "Ginny, I love you like a sister, and for some reason I like Harry. There is something about him."
"Yes, there is," the redhead said pensively. "He did have the courage to tell me about that microphone, but I don't know if that's enough. I'm still inclined to hate him."
"It may very well be that he deserves to be hated. Time will tell."
Two weeks later, Ginny sat in a bus on her way from school reconsidering her opinion of Harry. She had already concluded that he wasn't evil. Despite everything, her heart told her he was a good bloke, and despite his perverted pleasures, she had to recognize that it had taken an unusual degree of nobility to confess them and not to take advantage of her the night of their date. Every day she missed him more and hated him less. Even that word seemed too strong now. She started doubting that she had ever hated him at all and started believing that she had been forcing herself to hate him. Ginny was still rightfully angry and not willing to forgive him, but she started wondering what it would be like to see him again. He had scrupulously followed her request and had successfully avoided her. There hadn't been even an accidental encounter in the lift or elsewhere.
As the blur of the city sped past her window, she toyed with the idea of them becoming friends again, to go back to the way things were between them before that fateful night. She quickly discarded the idea as impossible and tried to ignore the sting in her chest caused by that realization. She got off the bus and started walking to her building. As she went in, she noticed a lorry unloading some furniture, but continued on toward the lift without giving it a thought.
Ginny got off on her floor and as she walked down the corridor, noticed from a distance that the door to Harry's flat was open. Unconsciously she quickened her pace when she saw the building superintendent step out and stand by the door, talking to someone inside.
"Hello, Ms Weasley," he said in a friendly manner when he saw her approach.
She stopped to shake the hand the man was offering and took a peek inside. "Hello, Mr Johnson." Inside there was a young woman who obviously was in the process of moving in. "What happened to Harry?" she asked sounding a little too alarmed.
"Mr Evans said he had to move out due to an emergency," he answered. "He even forfeited his deposit. It is a pity really, he was here such a short time, but I never had a complaint about him."
Ginny was introduced to her new neighbour, but everything was a blur. Her mind was elsewhere. Later she would not be able to recall the woman's name.
Should she be happy to be rid of him?
She was feverishly thinking about the answer to that question when she walked into her flat without paying attention to her surroundings.
"Ginny!" said a familiar voice in a desperate tone.
Steven was almost unrecognizable and looked like he had been recently beaten. His eyes darted wildly from side to side, he hadn't shaved, and apparently had missed several baths.
"Steven, what happened to you?" Ginny asked, alarmed at his condition. She paused and narrowed her eyebrows at him. "How did you get in?"
The redhead wrapped her hand around the wand inside her pocket, ready to draw it if necessary.
"You have to tell Harry to stop it," he pleaded. "There are people after me, some of them are trying to kill me. He has to tell them it wasn't me. I had nothing to do with it. He told the Exchequer... he told the Exchequer everything. They have frozen all my assets."
"What are you talking about. Did Harry do this to you?" she asked, growing angry. "What did he do?"
Steven continued rambling. "He and his friends... they sent letters and now some players have set hooligan firms after me... and there was this bloke who is a drug pusher... how was I supposed to know that... he wants me dead... I can't take it anymore. I haven't slept in days... Please Ginny, tell him to stop... to tell them it wasn't me who sent the letters."
"Why did Harry do this? I don't understand."
He looked around as if someone could jump out from a corner at any moment. "Because of the cameras, you stupid bitch!" he screamed, growing more agitated. "I haven't put up any more cameras, like I promised. No one is watching you starkers anymore... but he still sent those fucking letters... he is trying to have me killed... I kept my end of the bargain, it's not fair."
Understanding slowly dawned on her. The sickening feeling of shame and horror invaded her again. "People were watching me starkers on camera, and Harry knew about it?"
"Yes, of course he knew. He and that German bloke... and Zubi, he wants to cut my bits... and the other bloke is in a firm too.
"Harry knew people were watching me starkers and he didn't tell me?" Ginny screamed, feeling like she had been stabbed in the back.
"Who cares who was watching. People are trying to kill me, don't you understand. You have to help me... Where is Harry?"
He took a step forward and Ginny pulled out her wand.
"Careful with the chopstick, stupid bitch. You could put someone's eye out with that."
Ginny didn't think about the consequences. The only consideration in her mind was that she needed to know everything, even if she felt dread about what she might find out. She needed to know what Harry knew. Somehow, that was paramount to her.
"Legilimens," she bellowed.
Ginny first looked at the memories of Steven and her. She watched with repugnance how their relationship had been a set-up from the beginning, a mere business transaction for him. She saw how he posted videos of them having sex in his website, and how he would occasionally watch her in the bathroom. She became disgusted with herself for ever having feelings for Steven, for having been so completely fooled. Ginny then came across the first memory of Harry. It was of Steven watching them on the screen of a laptop, having dinner in her flat. She followed the brain synapses from there with growing alarm and shame. She saw the confrontation between Harry and Steven when he had been checking the cameras in her flat while she was gone. Why didn't Harry say anything? Later she saw Steven watching how Harry was beaten by three men. Why did he allow himself to be beaten? He could have killed them all. Part of the answer was on the threats Steven had made about her. She could see that Harry's main concern was for her protection. Finally, she came to the memory of Steven being threatened by Harry, Johann and two other men.
There were still many holes in the story that needed to be filled, but it was clear that Steven was a creep and a criminal. She was not sure what Harry was, or what she felt about him. For now, though, she was going to make Steven regret he had ever been born. She was in a state of uncontrolled fury. She raised her wand and was about to curse him when there were several pops. She was surrounded by several Aurors and Obliviators who were pointing their wands at her. One of them spoke.
"Ginevra Weasley, in the name of the Ministry of Magic you are placed under arrest for violation of clause 73 of the International Statute of Secrecy, by using magic in front of a Muggle. Surrender your wand immediately!"
She hesitated just a moment but was about to surrender her wand when several body-bind spells hit her.
Ginny Weasley was under arrest.
A/N: A "Hooligan firm" is a violent gang of football (soccer) fanatics, who support a specific team.