GINNY

The morning after the Owlry Incident, Ginny woke to fresh regret.

Sleep allowed her more calm, rational side to acknowledge that Harry wasn't someone to snub her without good reason. And, after all, she knew on some level that he must trust her. Fond memories of Easter eggs with Golden Snitches and snow capped Chinese Chomping Cabbages had floated to the surface out of her boiling anger from the night before.

She tried to catch his eye the next day, and the day after, but now he seemed to be avoiding her too. The weekend passed without much change, and when Monday arrived she found herself outright dreading Quidditch practice.

Experienced as she was at familial shouting matches, this icy frostiness in forced proximity felt much worse. Part of it satisfied her. Most of it just made her miserable. She wanted to apologize, but couldn't piece out what exactly she would be apologizing for.

Her mother had taught her to never be apologetic for having feelings. Particularly not to a man. But she'd overreacted too heatedly, she knew. It'd been known to happen. Only it was usually the other person being the idiot.

She still wanted to be friends with Harry. She'd learned that she couldn't simply throw problems down a drain and expect that to solve everything.

Every spare minute - walking between classes, getting ready for bed, upon waking, zoning out during classes - her mind dissected the interaction, trying to make sense of it. She wanted to talk to him, but didn't want to until she was ready. What had caused her to react so strongly like that? She wanted to believe it was just about being left out from their trio. But she knew there was more there. It'd awakened something that she'd been able to ignore the last few years.

Guilt. The Chamber had been all her fault. Blame. Did Harry blame her for what happened? Shame. She hadn't earned her spot amongst them.

Why was this all rising up again? She'd handled it… hadn't she?

"Haven't I taught you anything? What have I always told you? Never trust anything that can think for itself if you can't see where it keeps its brain?"

Her father was right, she should have known better. She should have told someone about the diary sooner. If she had had the bravery to come forward when she wanted to, less people would have been petrified. Tom wouldn't have gotten so close to hurting Harry again.

She wanted to believe she was good enough to be one of the good ones, not just a peripheral supporter.

She wanted to fight. To prove to her family, Harry, and herself - more than anyone - that there was more to her story. She was no longer susceptible to being manipulated and kidnapped. And she definitely didn't need to be rescued.

Gone was the eleven year old girl that was so desperate for the approval of interesting, adventurous friends that she sought one in a book. The irony was, by doing so she effectively ensured no one spoke to her throughout second year. No one except Luna.

Well, she'd shown that she didn't need those things anymore. She didn't care what people thought. After all, it wasn't until everyone forgot about the Chamber of Secrets that people paid her any mind.

"I forgot."

Ginny reeled at the memory of Harry's blank, pale face in Grimmauld Place.

Would she take his blame over his apathy?

Ron and Hermione knew about Dumbledore's lessons too. They didn't tell her anything either. But her anger was reserved for Harry. The Chamber was resolved for him, wasn't it? He did the saving. He was the hero. She, the not-so-innocent bystander. He moved on with a clear conscience. He wasn't guilty of any of it.

Again - but for the first time in years - she wished desperately that they could have processed it together. If she hadn't been so shy around him then, maybe he would've helped her talk through it. The only one she needed to talk to, but couldn't.

Plus, he forgot.

And whatever his reasons, he still didn't tell her about the lessons. He should know she had a right to be frustrated. Hadn't he been? All last year when the Order of the Phoenix hid their plans from "the children?" How'd that work out for them?

She hated that part of her still craved to talk to him about it. The Chamber. The diary. Dumbledore's lessons. Any of it. After all the work she'd done to get over him, there was still this present need to process what they went through. If taking down a mountain troll makes you friends for life, why not a basilisk?

Then again, maybe that didn't count when the basilisk was your fault.

Ginny rushed down to breakfast late Monday morning, having accidentally slept in after a restless night. She made it to breakfast just in time for the post.

"Gwenog wrote me!" She said excitedly, ripping open her first letter. Dean looked over his eggs, eager to hear the news. "Oh brilliant! She said she could bring me in sometime this summer for a shadow."

"Wait, is that Harry's owl?"

"Mhm," Ginny ripped open Oliver Wood's letter. "And Oliver says… yes as well! And to bring Harry and Katie. He must not know about Katie. Or that Hogsmead has been canceled… Damn… well maybe during the summer."

Ginny placed her letters into the inside pocket of her bag and turned her attention to breakfast.

"Thanks, Hedwig!" Ginny stroked the feathers on Hedwig's chest, making the owls eyes blink lazily. "I can't write replies now, I'll get them to you later this week." Hedwig hooted in reply before hopping down the table to Harry.

"Hey, Hed." Harry's greeting barely carried over the clatter and chatter of breakfast. Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny watched Hedwig perch herself on his shoulder. Harry met Ginny's eyes, she was sure he had overheard her, but he looked quickly away. A second later, the school bell rang.

"That night you sent the letters, did you go with Harry?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, he let me use Hedwig," Ginny said absentmindedly.

"I would've let you use my owl."

"Okay," she leaned across the table to plant a kiss on his cheek before stuffing a few slices of toast in her bag. "Have a good day, I'll see you at practice!"

Later that evening at Quidditch practice, Ginny, Demelza and Dean stood in a triangle passing the Quaffle around to warm up.

"Did you two see that the Hogsmead weekend has been canceled?" Demelza asked. "I'm so disappointed, I've only got to go twice so far."

"Yeah, we saw. Seems like they're afraid of something happening again, like it did to Katie."

"Gosh, that's right. Have you heard from her?"

"Still in St. Mungo's, right Ginny?"

"Hm?" Ginny refocused. She'd been watching Harry giving instructions to Jimmy and Ritchie on new proposed defensive strategies.

"Katie? Have you heard how she's doing? Has Harry said?"

"How should I know?"

"I was just asking -"

"Well, he hasn't talked to me about it," Ginny said shortly. They returned to their warm up, getting further and further away, working on behind the back throws. Ginny glanced at Harry but his back was turned to her. He was busy making grand sweeping motions to indicate the beaters positioning. In the split second she was watching him, Ginny missed one of Demelza's passes. When she came back from retrieving it, both Dean and Demelza were peering at her curiously.

"What's up with you today?"

"Nothing. Just didn't sleep well. It's nothing."

They waited five more minutes for Harry, Jimmy, and Ritchie to finish. Ginny began to feel antsy waiting for him, so she strode over to Ron putting on his Keeper's gloves. "Want me to shoot some goals at you?"

"I think Harry had a plan for us to work on defensive positions today."

"He'll be fine with it, plus he's taking forever," she said. "C'mon, let's go up."

Ron looked apprehensive, but nodded, "Erm - sure okay." Ron shot one more concerned glance over at Harry, still engrossed in a detailed discourse of beater's strategies.

Of the first five shots Ginny attempted, Ron blocked four of them.

"Would you try more right handed shots? I'm so used to your left, but I need to practice going right for the match."

"I'm just warming up! Give me a second, would you?"

From the ground, they heard Harry yelling, "GINNY, RON! GET DOWN HERE!"

"Fuck," said Ron as the two of them landed on the ground and hurried over to join the rest of the team.

"You couldn't have waited around for five minutes?" asked Harry.

"We had been waiting, just thought we'd warm up before -" Ginny started.

"It's fine, I just wanted to go through these defense skills. We've got Hufflepuff in less than a month and I want to focus on these this week."

"Why? Hufflepuff's offense is shit. They can't figure out how to spread out and pass the Quaffle. They dropped it at least five times against Slytherin," said Ginny.

"You don't think that they'll be working on that?" Harry challenged, speaking to her for the first time in days. "And we're not only preparing for Hufflepuff, we've also got Ravenclaw in May."

Ginny shifted her weight side to side, feeling irritated but eager to finally have a good fly.

"So Dean's our best defensive Chaser, so he'll be at the apex of this formation …" Harry began to explain the plays to the rest of the team.

As they got ready to kick off into the air, Ron muttered so only Ginny could hear, "What's up with you today?"

"Nothing," Ginny shot back. "Can you believe Harry? 'Dean is our best defensive Chaser'. What'd he mean by that? Last summer it took Harry three days to properly get past me or within thirty feet of the goal posts."

Ron simply shrugged. "Well, Dean's got a wider reach, hasn't he? That's all he meant. Harry knows you and Demelza are better. You two made the team over him, didn't you?"

"I suppose," Ginny said. She threw another glance at Harry, annoyed that he wasn't looking back.

The remainder of practice was dismal. Functioning on limited hours of sleep, she had trouble recalling all the details of Harry's drawings or where she should position herself. She'd fumbled several several good passes from the others, and every one of hers started to feel mechanical and awkward. Two hours of Quidditch had never passed so agonizingly slow.

"Ginny, wait around a bit?" Harry asked after he'd dismissed the rest of the team.

Dean hovered beside Ginny for a moment, looking between them. She assured him he could leave with a smile and gentle nod.

"What happened today?"

"What do you mean?"

"Practice. It didn't seem to go well."

"And why is that, Captain?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "Well…"

"Because of me?" She asked.

Guilt.

"What, you think I'm trying to sabotage the team?"

Blame.

He shook his head. "I have no idea, but I put a lot of work into this practice tonight. Most people seemed on board, so I just wanted to check in to see why you … weren't."

Ginny opened her mouth, but no words formed. She was mentally exhausted, her arms and back ached, and she couldn't believe that she was getting lectured by Harry Potter on her Quidditch performance.

"Look, is this about the whole Dumbledore's lessons thing? I'm really sorry, alright? He specifically made me swear not to say anything. To anyone - other than Ron and Hermione. I was going to tell you before you ran off on me."

Shame.

She had reached her boiling point.

"I was in the D.A. last year. I helped fight Umbridge. I snuck you into her office."

"I know."

"I defended you on the train against Smith! I went to the Department of Mysteries! No hesitation!"

"I know, Ginny, than-"

"I don't want to hear 'thank you'! I want to be involved! I want to help!"

A pained, pitying expression crossed his face. She hated it.

She stood waiting, watching, daring him to answer. But he simply looked at his Quidditch boots sinking into the muddy grass of the pitch and shook his head.

"I can't. I'm sorry. He asked me not to say anything."

"Would you, though? If you could?"

"I - I dunno," he said, looking highly uncomfortable.

"Is it because of what happened with the diary?"

He furrowed his eyebrows, considering. When he finally spoke his tone was tense, "It's more complicated than just that."

"Enlighten me, then."

He ran his hand through his hair, tugging slightly in frustration, unable to find words. He looked at her, pleading with her to understand and have mercy on him.

"What about the diary? Why couldn't you talk to me after what happened in the Chamber?!" she asked.

"Ginny, you couldn't talk to me!"

He'd broken their heretofore unspoken rule not to mention it. She wasn't yet at a place where she could talk about her awkward, ancient crush with him yet. She thought he'd implicitly understood that.

"Really?" she said, dripping in contempt. "So 'petty little crush' overshadows 'near death encounter with evil Dark Lord and giant pet snake'?" His jaw was set. He looked determinedly away from her, unable to meet her hard stare. "But then again, you never needed to talk about it, did you? You forgot."

She stood for a moment to appreciate the effect her words had on him. Satisfied, she marched past, ramming into his shoulder as she passed him. She hoped it would leave a bruise.

The next several practices brought little improvement.

"More new plays, Harry? We've already got so many to learn this year," moaned Demelza.

"These are game-winning strategies. Imagine we're out there for hours and they have seen all our moves. We need to be prepared. That way, we can adjust if they hit our weak areas."

"I don't see the play where you just catch the Snitch early and end it," said Jimmy.

"We'll need to win by a good margin to better our chances for the Cup," Harry replied.

"We understand that, Harry. But why are we changing so much of what Angelina and Wood had from previous years?"

"Likely because he leaked our plays to Chang," said Ginny, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet during this exchange.

Discussion halted, and the team exchanged confused glances amongst themselves.

"Harry wouldn't do that," Demelza finally said, giving Ginny a surveying look.

"Why? I don't see what they had to talk about otherwise," said Ginny.

Ron, Jimmy and Ritchie's low hoots of laughter were quickly silenced by Harry.

"Ginny, that's enough."

"Don't boss me around," she said. He glowered at her, but she returned it back with equal force.

"Fine, forget it," he said, grabbing his Firebolt. "Let's just scrimmage."

Valentine's Day landed on a Friday night that year. The staff, feeling festive and in response to an influx of complaints about the cancellation of Hogsmead weekend, decided to host a couple's dinner in the Great Hall. Unfortunately, attendance was low due to the somehow unforeseen complication of students' unwillingness to be monitored by staff during their Valentine's dates.

Ginny and Dean were no exception. That evening, Dean took her by the hand and led her up to the top of the Bell Tower. He'd set up a small table with two chairs beside the enormous clock-shaped window outlining a cloudless winter night sky. The table was surrounded by a multitude of floating candles, looking as if they'd been borrowed from the Great Hall.

When they sat down, he began setting the table with the takeaway meal he'd gotten from the kitchens.

"I had to bribe McGonagall to let me do this," he explained as he prepared Ginny's meal. "But it was worth it." He smiled at her, and she kissed him before taking her plate.

"With what?" she asked, amused.

"Told her I'd grade the first year's Transfiguration essays. But what she doesn't know…" he said, pulling out a small bottle of champagne, "...is that she's not the only one I bribed."

Ginny felt her face light up in excitement.

"Ohh! How'd you manage it?"

"Got my mum to sneak it in. Sorry it's a small one, it's the only size she could get to fit in my parcel of new socks. But, I figured I'd try a Doubling Charm."

"I thought it didn't work on alcohol."

"Nah, it just makes it so the second bottle isn't as strong," he said.

"That's yours, then."

Dean shot her a small smile and took out his wand. He focused very intently and produced a second small contraband champagne bottle. They sniggered mischievously at their ingenuity.

He sat up straighter and uncorked one bottle with a flourish.

"For the lady."

"Thank you, sir."

"Well, cheers! To almost nine months of dating. Happy Valentine's Day, Ginny. "

"Happy Valentine's," Ginny replied. She felt genuinely touched at the efforts he went through to create this romantic scene. It didn't seem quite real, like she was looking at a portrait rather than experiencing it for herself. This made it difficult for her to place the surface layer of anxiety she'd felt since he brought her here. They clinked their glasses and she attempted to mirror Dean's delicate sip of his drink.

Having never had Muggle champagne, Ginny was disappointed to find that it did not have the same effect as the Bubbling Brut she'd had at weddings. No rising rush of happiness flushed her, no light restless of her feet that made her want to dance.

"Thanks for this - all of this," she glanced again at the floating candles against the backdrop of a clear, starry sky.

"Ginny, I know the last few weeks haven't been perfect. But I actually appreciate that we're at this point where we can work through things like that. I think it makes us stronger."

"Me too."

"I don't want you to always think of that argument whenever you think about Gwenog and the Harpies. So… I made you something," he said, pulling out a large envelope from his bag.

Her first thought was Good grief, another drawing? but she pushed it away with a guilty conscience. She took her gift and carefully undid the fastening to pull out the large parchment.

"Woah."

Dean had gotten very skilled at charming his art pieces to move so they looked almost lifelike. This time, his drawing was of Ginny in a vividly green Harpies kit, sheened in glittering gold. She watched as her drawing-self repeatedly scored an impressive goal and sped away on her broom. Bright, long red hair streamed behind her, which she noted brilliantly complimented the color of the uniform.

"D'you like it?"

"It's incredible," she said, running a hand across the colors. "Number one. Good choice," she said, winking at him.

She suddenly felt self-conscious that her simple gift of Darmy's Un-Dullable Drawing Utensils was thoughtless in comparison. And she told him so, but he accepted them graciously. The next half an hour passed chatting pleasantly until they ran out of conversation. Then Dean paused thoughtfully before speaking again.

"I need to ask you something, Ginny. And I really need you to be honest with me," he said.

"Okay."

"What is going on between you and Harry?"

"Noth-"

"And please don't say 'nothing'. It's clear something is bothering you. The whole team is picking up on it."

This had not been the first time he'd asked. And he was right, both Ron and Demelza had asked her twice more after the previous practice. Hermione was incessant.

For a fleeting moment, she considered where she would start. How would she go about telling him?

The Chamber? She wasn't ready. Tom? Fat chance. Dumbledore's lessons? Then Harry really would never tell her. Little kid sister always left behind? Maybe.

"It's complicated," was all she could muster.

Harry's voice echoed in her head: "It's more complicated than just that."

"I'm willing to listen."

She knew she had to give him something. Surely he'd understand her constant hurt and annoyance about being left out of the trio, having known Harry, Ron, and Hermione for so long.

But before she could speak, he asked, "Did he try something on you?

"What?"

"The night you went to the owlry. Did he… I dunno… come onto you or something?"

Ginny stared, suspended. Then burst out laughing.

"Dean. What the fuck?"

"What?"

"No, no he did not," she said, shaking her head as though he'd told a joke in poor form.

"Why are you laughing?"

"Well, this is Harry we're talking about."

"And?"

"And Harry wouldn't do something like that."

"I wouldn't think so either, but you've been acting really strange around him for two weeks." Ginny blinked rapidly. She looked around, hoping someone else was witnessing this too. "It's nothing to be embarrassed about, Ginny. If you told me, I'd help-"

"DEAN. Stop. I'm telling you that is not what happened."

"What did happen then?"

Completely baffled that she was having to defend this argument, she paused to collect herself before saying: "We had a disagreement, that's all."

"What about? Did he say he has feelings for you?"

"Why are all your theories about Harry about him having a go at me?"

"Because he looks at you."

"Harry looks at me? What does that have to do with anything?"

"I think he fancies you, Ginny."

Ginny watched as hundreds of tiny Muggle champagne bubbles rose to the surface and burst.

"Well, he doesn't."

"I think he does."

"He doesn't."

"Why is that so hard to believe?"

"Because he just doesn't!"

"Who does he fancy then?"

"No one."

"How do you know?"

"He told me."

"When?"

"At Christmas!"

"So you two do talk on holidays. What do you talk about? Why were you talking about who he fancies?"

Now he'd crossed a line. She felt he was pushing her up against a wall, and not in the good way.

"Dean, I've told you. I really don't like to talk about my relationships."

"I'm your boyfriend! We've been dating for months. You should be able to tell me anything."

Ginny seethed in silence.

He tried another tactic. "So you don't talk about me?"

"Only to Hermione - once or twice."

"What about to your family?"

"Well, they… know your name."

"Wow! What a ringing endorsement after months of dating. Yet they invite Harry over for every holiday."

"He doesn't have anyone else!" She repeated herself from their previous argument. She shook her head incredulously, "This isn't like you, Dean, to be the jealous type."

Ginny watched as he struggled with the offense he'd taken to her comment. He took several deep breaths while focusing on his hands, gripping and ungripping themselves in his lap.

"Can you blame me?" He looked up to meet her eyes. "Most people know that you liked him before. You two are really close. And he looks at you."

"I don't fancy him anymore, Dean. I fancy you. And yes, we're close because he and Ron are close. And, well, my mum's sort of adopted him. She didn't have enough sons."

"Okay, but I think he might like you."

"Dean, please, this is barmy. Can we just go back to having a nice night?"

This took some convincing, but eventually Dean acquiesced. The remainder of their dinner dragged on in silence or else polite pleasantries. Ginny had never been a fan of small talk, and the alcohol had not helped her enjoy it any more. She wished the night would end.

Had Dean given her the reserve bottle of champagne?