A/N: Sorry, sorry sorry! It's been about a year and a half since I wrote part two of this fic, and I honestly didn't plan to make another part, which accounts for my absence. But enough of you requested a continuation, and I thought I'd - once again - give it a shot, so that's what this is. In my head, these characters are around HBP age and that's how I keep picturing them. I feel like they're kind of at that maturity level, so they're slightly OOC in that sense. It sort of shows itself especially in Harry because he speaks a little more maturely than he ever did in GoF and thinks things through a bit more, but I felt like I couldn't continue this story with oblivious, badly-spoken Harry or it would get painful, so that's maybe why he's like this. I don't think it's a huge deal, but in case you guys are noticing that, I'm letting you know that I am too and I think it's just a quirk of this project. Anyway, I'm writing this at an unacceptable hour and my parents just told me they're divorcing, but here's part three! Hope you enjoy :)
Two weeks later, and Hogwarts was back in full swing, inconsiderate to the current struggles of one Harry Potter. Classes resumed as the snow cascaded beyond the windows, piling up on the grounds, and students equipped themselves with scarves and gloves indoors to combat the chill. Meanwhile, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were no further to finding a solution to the clue from the egg. They'd spent the remainder of the break - at least, the time which Hermione could persuade them - combing through the shelves of the library, searching for anything that could provide the magic Harry needed for the upcoming task.
Resigned to yet another unsuccessful study session, the three of them had traipsed to the library on a brisk Thursday evening, tossed their bags on a table, and slumped into hard wooden chairs, each clutching a copy of Merpeople: A Comprehensive Guide to Their Language and Customs. Several chapters later, and Ron was beginning to slump over his book, a rather raucous snore escaping his mouth every other second. Harry, fearing Madam Pince's imminent arrival, hurried to shush him, but before he could, footsteps were upon them and a head was peeking around the corner.
"Harry? Hermione? What's going on?" Ginny breathed, staring at Ron's slumped body. Harry's stomach gave a little flip at the sight of her, and Hermione glanced at him from the side of her eyes for a moment before speaking.
"Nothing, Ron just hasn't eaten in three hours and therefore lost all will to be conscious. I'll go take him to the Great Hall for dinner. See you both!" And without another word, Hermione rose, marched around the table, and hoisted Ron to his feet, dragging him away as he stuttered confusedly.
Ginny hesitated for a moment before sitting down when Harry motioned towards her, and settled her chin on her palm.
"Did she seem odd to you?" She asked, frowning.
Knowing full well the reason Hermione had abandoned them and not willing to share it in a million years, Harry cleared his throat and tried to sound normal.
"No, I reckon they both just needed a break. You know Ron, he can't stand the library in any other mood than desperation," he said, and Ginny nodded thoughtfully.
"I suppose so," she murmured, glancing down at the book in front of him. "You're still working on the clue, right? Have you made any progress?" She ruffled through the pages a bit, turning it to face her and bringing her chair closer to Harry's. He gulped.
"No, not much. Nothing in here mentions what magic could be used to simulate the traits of a merperson, so it looks like this one won't be very helpful." He sighed, closing it with a small puff of dust and walking over to a nearby shelf to replace the copies they had borrowed.
Ginny hummed, watching him carefully, then stood. Reaching out, she grabbed his wrist and started pulling him gently to the door.
"Well, I don't see what good it'll do you sitting around in here, then. How about a quick scrimmage?" She asked, smiling up at him.
Stumbling to snatch up his bag, Harry followed her, nodding. Some time on the Quidditch pitch was exactly what he needed to clear his head.
"Have you had much of a chance to fly recently? I know the first term was pretty busy," Harry mused as they descended the stone steps, past the loud noises echoing from the Great Hall. They stepped outside into the snow-coated wonderland, and Harry wished suddenly that he'd dressed more warmly; it was freezing. Ginny, unconcerned, plowed on through the snow as she turned to answer him, and Harry hid a smile over his shoulder.
"Yeah, but only a little bit. There's a lot more work this year, and it's mostly been a weekend thing when I'm done with everything. I'm a bit off my game, to be honest," she confessed, smiling grudgingly at him.
"That's alright," Harry grinned, "we'll take it easy. I haven't been playing with the team at all this year because of the tournament, so I am too. No worries."
She smiled at him, and he felt his stomach do that little flip again as they trudged along the crunching snow, approaching the changing rooms next to the pitch. They said goodbye for a moment to retrieve their brooms from storage and bundle up in extra layers, then reemerged on the other side, wearing matching jumpers and scarves.
Together, they mounted their brooms, then kicked up and soared off into the clear night sky. As Hogwarts grew smaller beneath him, Harry gazed upward at Ginny. She was grinning, red hair whipping about her in all its untied glory - a misstep that Ginny would later inform him had produced some severe entanglements. Her pearly skin was glowing in the light of the nearly full moon above them, and Harry couldn't help but notice for the hundredth time just how pretty she was.
He felt foolish for a number of reasons: firstly, they were friends, just friends - Ron would certainly not permit them to be anything more, and the mere thought of that hurdle had Harry wincing. And then there was the fact that Ginny probably didn't have feelings for him anymore - she may have once been interested in the legendary survivor that stories made him out to be, but once she had gotten to know him and spent time with him, her hesitancy and shyness had melted away, leaving Harry baffled. He used to be glad to get to be around Ginny in her unflustered state, but now he questioned it. Did it mean that she truly had no feelings for him, and this was an unrequited crush, something that would exist and be snuffed out in his head? And another thing, it was just too soon. He took years to even talk to Cho, and it was ridiculous for him to have developed feelings so quickly for Ginny; he'd just have to get over it.
As he wallowed in these thoughts, Ginny hung back, giving him a faint smile. It wasn't a windy night, and her hair settled around her as she perched expertly on her broom, crossing her arms and quirking a single eyebrow up.
"You know," she mused, "for someone who was so determined to clear his head, you're awfully caught up in it."
Harry grimaced, mentally kicking himself at his inattention, and turned to face her more fully.
"Sorry about that," he mumbled, "there's just a lot in my head right now."
Ginny tilted her head, her lips teasing into the start of an encouraging smile.
"Want to talk about it?" She offered, and Harry covered his laugh with a cough, trying not to imagine that conversation. Oh, it's no big deal, I've just been thinking about how pretty and fun and interesting you are and I don't know what to do about it. Right.
"Thanks," he smiled, "but I'll sort it out myself. Anyway, are you up for a race?"
Ginny grinned at the challenge, but Harry had a feeling his words were still on her mind. She didn't show it though, just nodded, and he flew over to the nearest goalposts, hovering above the center one as she paused next to him on his left.
"First to three laps?" Harry offered, grinning.
"You're on," Ginny smiled, leaning forward slightly on her broom.
Harry counted them down, and then Ginny was off, shooting towards the opposite end of the pitch. He knew that his broom had an advantage in speed, and kept it in mind as he caught up with her during the first lap, trying to play fair. She was good, though, better than he'd realized, and she pushed her broom harder, going out of her way to block him as they sped around for the second time, the air whizzing by in Harry's ears.
Harry smiled, feeling the adrenaline kick in, the freedom of flight that his troubling thoughts hadn't afforded him. Ginny was doing an impressive job of keeping him behind her, matching all of his feints, and he could only see the bristles of her broom as they streaked by for the final lap. The lights of the castle were blurred in the corner of his vision, but he had a moment of distraction when they began to sequentially snuff out. Looking around, he realized it was his downfall, and he sighed as he flew towards Ginny, waiting a couple of seconds ahead of him at the starting posts.
"Well done!" Harry praised, hiding a smile as Ginny shrugged, clearly pleased with herself.
"Thank you," she murmured, and then caught sight of the darkening windows of the castle, and cursed. "Bloody hell, we're late for curfew, aren't we?"
Harry laughed and nodded. They turned their brooms toward the ground together, and both dismounted with a reasonable amount of grace before hurrying over to the changing rooms. Harry's hands fumbled with his sweater as he attempted to pull it over his head, and he blamed it on the cold.
After much confusion, he managed to rid himself of his scarf and return it to its labeled bin, and he stumbled out to meet Ginny. She was glancing nervously up at the castle; they both knew that they weren't likely to be caught on the grounds, but Filch would likely be patrolling the corridors, severely complicating their safe arrival in the common room. Harry hadn't brought the Marauder's map with him, but he did have his invisibility cloak, and he tugged it out of his pocket, feeling the slippery fabric cascade down against his legs as it unfolded.
"Up for a fun trip?" He raised his eyebrows, smirking at her, and Ginny grinned.
"Absolutely," she said, and they set off.
The cloak was unnecessary out on the grounds, as no students were foolish enough to attempt to get past Filch in the castle, but Harry and Ginny were cautious as they snuck back up the path, scanning around the area for signs of movement. They saw none and only slowed to a stop when they approached the large doors barring their entrance.
Harry grabbed his cloak again - which had been stowed once more in his pocket - and swung it around them, hiding them from sight. Though he'd grown significantly in the few years since he'd been given it, he was not yet so tall that the cloak did not hide him fully, but he fought a laugh when he looked over at Ginny. She was, of course, very short - height was one of the Weasley genes she'd missed from her father - and the top of her head was barely level with Harry's eyes. For some reason, he found this very comical, and he was smiling as he looked down at her.
"Ready?" Harry asked, beginning to move towards the doors.
"As ever," Ginny smiled, keeping pace with him.
They were lucky - they were not so late that Filch had already made his rounds down to the first floor and locked the door, and it swung open with a small creak when they stepped forward. Shutting it behind them, they paced over to the nearest staircase, Harry shortening his strides just a bit to accommodate Ginny.
They walked close together as they began to climb the stairs, and Ginny cast a quick silencing charm to muffle their footsteps, leaving Harry once again marveling at her talent for charms. There was no sound as they proceeded up the floors of the castle, occasionally detouring through a corridor or secret passageway to shorten the trip; everyone was in their dormitories. As they approached the landing to the sixth floor, Harry heard the wheezing of Filch around the nearest corner, and he gasped quietly, grabbing Ginny's wrist and pulling her against the wall. He knew logically that they were invisible, but invisibility didn't matter if Filch walked into them.
As the light from the lantern grew farther away, indicating Filch's retreat down a separate corridor, Harry became distinctly aware of how close he was to Ginny. Her eyes glittered up at him in the dark, and he shook his head faintly, though what thought he was ridding himself of, he did not know - his head was definitely empty. Shaking himself, he looked once more around the corner, and, surmising that they were safe, moved forward.
It was only then that he realized he was still holding Ginny's wrist in his hand. Harry moved for a split second to remove it, thinking he must have made her uncomfortable, but she made no indication that she was bothered by it, so they continued that way, Harry gently holding her, his pulse thrumming. As they ascended the final staircase and faced the Fat Lady, Harry removed the cloak with his free hand.
He barely noticed the way she startled at him, and didn't think as he gave her the password and climbed through the portrait hole. Ginny's weight leaned on him for a moment through her arm as she climbed in after him, and he supported her, smiling stupidly.
As they faced the deserted common room, Harry suddenly wasn't sure what to say. He wanted to thank Ginny for getting him out of his head, helping him let loose, being the kind of friend that he'd always wanted. Instead, he just said:
"Same time tomorrow?"
Laughing, Ginny nodded enthusiastically.
"I'd like that," she murmured, smiling in an uncharacteristically shy way, causing a stir of hope in Harry's chest. Maybe, just maybe.
"Thank you for tonight, Harry," Ginny continued, "I had fun."
"Me too!" Harry sputtered, "I had fun, I mean."
She laughed, and it was worth his momentary embarrassment.
"Goodnight, then," Ginny whispered, and hurried past him towards the dormitories.
"Goodnight," he called after her, a faint smile on his lips.
Harry waited until the muffled sounds of her footsteps were gone, then walked over to the entrance to the boys' dorms, starting up the stone steps. He paused before the door to the 4th year room, then, hearing a chorus of snores, quietly pushed it open. No one stirred as he walked over to his four-poster, tossing his cloak on his nightstand and shrugging on his pajamas. He climbed into bed cautiously, and just as he was reaching to close the curtains, he spotted the book resting on Neville's bedside table. By the light of the moon through the window, he read its title: Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean.
Laughing to himself, he wondered how his perfect evening could get even better. He'd found a lead for the second task, but maybe even more importantly, he'd had an adventure with Ginny. A smile tugged itself onto his lips as he thought of the way she'd laughed as they shot through the air together, the simple comfort she offered him without any words. Perhaps it could never happen, perhaps it was destined to be an unrequited fantasy, but in that moment, Harry felt like he might not even care.
His dreams were good for the first time in a while that night.
A/N: So, here it is! Don't mind the chapter name - I just couldn't think of anything and the emotions were getting to me after a stressful day, so that came about. Let me know if you guys are interested in making this a more consistent thing - I'm heading back to school in a couple of weeks, so I probably won't be able to update super often, but I can try to post more than once a year if anyone is invested in this fic. I wrote this chapter with a lot of chaos in my head and heart because of the current situation of my household, so let me know what you think, and I'm sorry if it's not up to standard. Honestly, I'd really appreciate any well-wishes you guys have to offer right now. Anyway, thank you all for reading!
-BatBogey7 (making unhealthy choices at 2:32 am)