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Author: MyGinevra Story: Losing Each Other Rating: Young Teens Status: Completed Warning: None Reviews: 10 Words: 99,044
“I can’t believe it!” Ron exclaimed as they walked up the stairs to Gryffindor Tower; he could not contain his excitement. “The Cannons here! At Hogwarts! And I’ll get to play against them!” His smile suddenly faded. “If I get picked.” “You’re the best Keeper in the school,” declared Hermione, speaking over her shoulder as she shepherded the two new first–years along. “They have to pick you.” Ron still looked doubtful. “Maybe, but Ginny’s sure to be one of the Chasers,” he looked back at her. But Ginny was only half–listening. She had been thinking about Harry. Harry Potter was the best Quidditch player in the school, and he would have been even if every student had returned. What would everyone think if he didn’t make the team because he could no longer fly? What if he didn’t even try out? She knew he wouldn’t care what people thought, but what would it do to him? How much more depression could he sink into? Ginny followed the others through the portrait hole, and the instant she entered the common room it was as though all of her cares were blown away on a gust of warm, festive air. It was brightly lit by dozens of candles, and she remembered what it had looked like from outside. The portraits on the walls were chatting with each other and with students. A fire burned cheerfully. Someone was throwing a Fanged Frisbee around the room, and people ducked as it whizzed past. The room was not as crowded as it usually was on the evening after the first Feast, but it was far from quiet. It felt safe and friendly; Ginny smiled broadly as she walked in. Harry was seated in his usual chair in front of the fire; empty dinner dishes were at his feet. Ron was losing no time telling him the news of the Chudley Cannons and the all–Hogwarts Quidditch team. As Ginny walked toward them, Harry looked up, and she got the distinct impression that he had been waiting for her. Her smile grew wider and she gave him a small wave. Harry stood up, ignoring Ron, who didn’t seem to notice but kept on talking to Hermione, who had sent the two first–years on up to their room. She was also ignoring him and watching Harry. Harry walked over to Ginny. “Hi,” he said. He was relaxed, and she saw nothing in his eyes that was remotely like what had been there that awful morning at the Burrow. “Hi, Harry,” she said. “How are you feeling? Are your teeth okay?” She peered at his mouth. “They’re fine,” he laughed, baring his teeth. “Your mum’s an excellent Healer.” He looked around at the room, and Ginny followed his gaze. Only Hermione and Ron were watching them; Ginny realized that no one else, except maybe Neville and Dean, neither of whom was in sight, would know that she and Harry were not together. Hermione quickly looked away and poked Ron, who gave her an annoyed look but also stopped staring. “Ginny,” Harry said, “can we talk? I need to say something.” Ginny’s heart started racing, but she fought down the rush of hope. She did not think it likely that Harry had changed his mind. Nothing had changed concerning his hunt for Voldemort, as far as she knew. “Um, sure.” She tried to keep her voice steady. “Where —?” She looked around. People were starting to drift up to the dormitories, and there were some empty corners that would give them privacy. “Over there, I think.” Harry pointed to two chairs under a window. They walked over and sat down. For a moment Harry sat back and stared at the ceiling. Finally he leaned closer and started to speak, but then he took a sharp breath, as though he had suddenly caught the scent of something on the air. He looked at her with a distant expression. Then he leaned back again and took another deep breath. Too close for comfort, thought Ginny, and she decided that she needed to put him at ease. “Harry, it’s okay,” she lied. “I know you haven’t changed your mind. I still don’t agree, but it’s okay.” For a moment he looked surprised, then relieved. “I knew you’d understand. But I still wanted to say that I know I hurt your feelings last spring, and I feel bad about it. It was partly my fault that your feet got messed up. I’m sorry.” “I appreciate that,” Ginny murmured, “but it wasn’t your fault.” There was another silence, then Ginny spoke. “Did Ron tell you about the Chudley Cannons? That’s brilliant news, isn’t it?” “Well, yes,” Harry agreed, and for a moment Ginny was afraid that she had opened up a wound too soon. But then Harry continued. “I did do a bit of flying with Ron, and it went okay. At least I didn’t lose any more teeth.” They both smiled, and for an instant Ginny felt something in the air between them that had not been there since Professor Dumbledore’s funeral. She hoped that her face didn’t give her feelings away. “Actually,” Harry went on, “I wanted to make another apology.” “For what?” “For how I acted at the Burrow all summer. I was rude, especially what I said right before I crashed. And right after, too.” “There’s nothing going on between me and Dean, Harry. And I was just glad you weren’t hurt worse than you were.” Ginny was miffed. Harry was acting as though the only thing that had ever gone on between them was a moment or two of impoliteness. If she wanted to “get through to him,” as Hermione and her mum put it, she had to say the things that he had not let her say after the funeral. This evening he had waited for her to come back from dinner and then had asked to talk to her in private. She had a right to bring up whatever subject she wanted, especially this one. “Harry,” she began, “we have to talk. You walked away without letting me say anything, but there are things I need to say. Too much happened between us. I can’t just let it all sit there.” He leaned toward her. “I really am sorry, Ginny,” he said in a low voice. “When I said it wasn’t easy, I meant it. But don’t you see now why I can’t be with you? There’s no way you could have come with us when we went away this summer.” He paused, looked away for a moment, then took a deep breath. “When I’m near you, I have trouble concentrating. You distract me, even when I’m doing something as ordinary as... as eating. What would happen if I felt that way when something really dangerous was going on?” This statement took Ginny aback. But his look seemed to be pleading with her not to take advantage of it. Her instinct told her to be careful. “Did you ever figure out what happened to you in the clearing?” she asked. “No,” he admitted, “but it had nothing to do with you.” “How do you know that?” she demanded. “How do you know it isn’t because you’re pushing people away? It’s happened to others, you know.” “I’m not pushing you away. I’m keeping you from being used against me. When they attacked the train it wasn’t an attack on me, but they saw a chance to get at me through you and it almost worked. We were lucky, that’s all.” Ginny shook her head. “No, it wasn’t luck. It was you. You didn’t save the wizarding world, but you did save me.” Harry looked away again. Ginny also glanced around and saw Hermione duck her head and turn back to Ron. “We’d better be careful,” Ginny said, “or we’ll give people the wrong impression.” Harry smiled. “And what impression is that?” “You know what I mean. Don’t joke about it.” “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said it. But why do you care about the impression we give?” “Touché.” Ginny grinned in turn. Again they sat in silence. Finally Ginny broke it. “Voldemort already knows that we were together. Malfoy knew, so Voldemort knows. And it’s unlikely he knows that anything’s changed between us.” Harry looked uncomfortable. “You don’t know that for sure. Why take a chance?” “A chance on what?” she exclaimed. “For God’s sake, Harry, what would you do, what would you feel like, if he went after my parents or Hagrid or anyone else who is special to you? What makes me so different?” “You know what makes you different. No.” He put his hand up to stop her. “You know how hard it was both times, at the funeral and when the train was attacked. I’m doing what I think is right. I know why you disagree, but it’s me he’s after, and it’s I who have to face him.” “Yes, the prophecy,” Ginny said, almost like an accusation, and Harry looked at her in surprise. “You know about the prophecy?” “You kept a lot of things from me, and I sort of understand why, but I heard some things and I could figure out some others. I don’t know exactly what it said, but what else could it be? I can help you, Harry, you know I can. In lots of ways.” Her eyes started to fill with tears, and she did not try to hide them. Harry gazed at her, and Ginny momentarily saw a look she had often seen last year whenever they were alone together. But then he abruptly stood up. “Well,” he said, “I think I’ll be going to bed. I — I’ll see you around.” He walked away before she could say anything, and she stared at his back until he disappeared around the corner of the staircase to the boys' dormitories. “I’m always watching you walk away,” she said to herself. She stood and went to the fireplace where Hermione and Ron were sitting, holding hands and talking quietly. Hermione looked up. “Is everything okay?” “If everything staying the same is okay, then I guess so,” Ginny replied. She sat down. “He apologized for what happened at the Burrow.” “That doesn’t surprise me,” Hermione said. “He thought you were angry with him when you walked out of the kitchen while your mum was fixing him up. I think that’s why he skipped the Feast. He wanted to talk before he had to spend any time with you in public, in case you were still mad.” “I wasn’t mad about that. He didn’t have to miss the Feast. But how has he been? Has he tried to do any magic? He told me he flew.” Ron answered. “Yeah, we went down to the pitch a few times. He asked me to go with him the day after we got here. It wasn’t too bad. We didn’t try much, or fly too high, but he didn’t have any problems with his broom. Maybe something happened that day at the Burrow that got him upset?” He looked questioningly at Ginny. Ginny gazed into the fire; the flames were starting to die down. She felt tired. “Did Hermione tell you that I saw Dean in Diagon Alley the day before you came?” “Um, yes. Is that what upset him?” “I suppose.” She frowned. “He was a git about it, and I was angry for a second. But Hermione told me that he had already been losing his powers for a while.” They were all silent. Finally Hermione spoke. “He’s better now, but he will never be completely better until he stops pushing you away.” She looked unhappily at Ginny. “It’s not fair, but it’s up to you, Ginny. You have to figure out some way to get through. Ron and I can help look out for him, but let’s face it, he loves you and you have to decide what you want to do about it.” “Plus, he’s got to get on the Hogwarts Quidditch team,” Ron chipped in. “Right, Ron,” Ginny retorted, “I’ll work on that, too.” “No, really!” Ron said. “What a boost that would be for him, if he could fly as well as he used to.” “Ron’s right,” said Hermione. “It’s all part of the same problem.” “Okay,” Ginny sighed. “I guess you’re right. But I’m tired. I need to go to bed.” She left them and went up to her dormitory and put on her nightgown. She sat on her bed and thought about what the day had brought. Some surprises, that was for certain. She had brought her doubts about Harry’s feelings back to school with her, but now she could put those doubts away. Things seemed, all–in–all, a lot better. The fact that Harry had spoken to her so honestly was a good sign, a sign that maybe he would be able to do magic again, that the thing that was the most important to him — the hunt for Voldemort — would still be possible. And he would be able to play on the Hogwarts Quidditch team. At that thought, Ginny felt a twinge of excitement. She had been so preoccupied with Harry, that she had not thought at all about the tryouts. She had as good a chance as anyone of making the team. It was a brilliant idea to have the entire school unite around one Quidditch team. No matter how bad things became outside, at least at Hogwarts there would be something to look forward to. With some pleasant thoughts finally in her mind, she got into bed and slept until the sun was well up. The first week of school flew by. Every teacher plunged directly into lessons. Ginny knew from what her brothers and friends had told her that her sixth year would be hard, but all of the teachers seemed to be taking Professor McGonagall’s challenge very seriously. Every night there were endless hours of homework, and every night Ginny went to bed late and exhausted. Classes were smaller because there were fewer students, and that added to the intensity of the work. It was impossible to hide in a back row and daydream or catch up on work for another subject. Ginny did not dare use any of her ample supply of Skiving Skittles; each teacher was moving along so rapidly that she was afraid to miss a single class and fall behind. She saw Harry at meals and evenings in the common room, and occasionally in the library. Ginny was distracted by school work, and Harry seemed always to be deep in conversations with Ron and Hermione, so they never really talked. But whenever their paths crossed, he smiled and spoke a few words to her. On Monday of the second week of the term, Harry, Ron, and Hermione disappeared. They did not show up for classes; they were not at any meals; no one in the common room could remember seeing them since the evening before. Rumors started flying. The most popular one was that they had gone on a secret mission to some unknown location for the Ministry of Magic. Since it was well known that Harry had faced and defeated large numbers of Dementors — it was believed to be in the thousands — the purveyors of this particular rumor insisted that when Harry’s mission was finished, the Dementors mist would vanish. Bu the weather did not change, and by the middle of the third day of their absence Ginny had become desperate. At lunch, she watched the staff table closely to see if any of the teachers were acting differently. With three of the school’s best students gone missing — well, she reconsidered, maybe two of its best students and their best friend — there should have been some kind of reaction from the staff. But all of them were behaving normally. Ginny waited in the entrance hall after the meal for Professor McGonagall to come out. When the Headmistress saw Ginny walking toward her, she spoke before Ginny could say anything. “I know what you are going to ask, Miss Weasley, but I can’t tell you anything other than that I know where they are and that they will be back tonight.” “Oh.” The tirade Ginny had prepared fizzled, and now she was confused. “But where did they go?” she asked. “I told you I cannot say,” McGonagall replied coolly. “I understand your concern, but you’ll have to leave it at that and wait for their return to find out more, if they choose to tell you anything.” Ginny looked away from the Professor’s tight–lipped expression. This was not fair. She said aloud, “I think I have a right to know where my brother is, Professor.” McGonagall’s face softened. “I’m sorry, Ginny. It’s not up to me to decide who knows where they are. But they will be back some time this evening.” “It’s the Order, isn’t it?” “No, it is not,” McGonagall replied more coldly again. “But you will have to excuse me. I have to prepare for my next class.” She nodded to Ginny and stepped past her and walked briskly down the hall. Ginny had to be satisfied with that, and at least she now knew that her friends would return in a few hours. But the afternoon and evening passed, and still there was no sign of them. She went to bed and slept poorly, and dreamed that she watched Harry, Ron, and Hermione walk away onto a vast, empty field and disappear into mist and fog. The next morning she awoke tired and cross and feeling abandoned and lonely. When she went down to the common room, she immediately noticed that Crookshanks, who had been sleeping in a chair near the fireplace for the past two nights, was not there. She raced back upstairs to Hermione’s dormitory, and found her changing into her nightgown. Crookshanks was curled up at the foot of the bed. “Are you all right?” Ginny cried anxiously. “I was so worried! Are Harry and Ron okay?” Hermione nodded; she looked utterly exhausted. “Yes, we’re all fine,” she said, but she did not look at Ginny. “Did Harry have...problems?” Ginny asked even more anxiously. Hermione lay down on her bed and looked at the roof of the four–poster. “He’s okay,” she said, and closed her eyes. “It — it just didn’t go well for all of us.” “What didn’t go well?” Hermione looked at her. “Ginny, you know I can’t tell you. We promised Harry.” Ginny’s frustration exploded. “So he’ll be dead and you won’t tell me why!” she yelled. “It’s one thing to crack a tooth on a broomstick, Hermione, it’s another thing to fight a Dark wizard when you can’t even cast a spell! I know he’s been having problems in Charms and Defense Against the Dark Arts. Everyone’s talking about it. Why did you let him leave Hogwarts? You promised you would look out for him! This is looking out for him?” Ginny’s eyes flashed and she shook her finger at Hermione. She had never yelled at her friend like this, but a month’s worth of feeling left out and ignored had finally come out. Hermione sighed and sat up. “Ginny, listen to me. You’re right. You should know and you have a right to know. Ron thinks so, too. As far as we’re concerned, it’s a promise Harry made to a man who’s now dead.” She reached for Ginny’s hand. “I’m really sorry. If you knew more you could be helping us. I am positive of that.” Ginny sat down on the bed; Hermione’s sympathy had evaporated her anger. Finally Hermione spoke. “I never promised not to tell where we go. So listen carefully, and think carefully about what I’m telling you. We opened up the Chamber of Secrets again.” “No!” Ginny croaked in a strangled voice, and sprang from the bed. “Hermione, how could you?” She backed away, horror–stricken. “Ginny, wait.” Hermione tried to sound reassuring. “It’s empty. Nothing is there. We wasted three days and two nights and found nothing.” She grabbed Ginny’s arm and would not let go. “Ginny, you must listen to me! Do you remember anything about the Chamber? Did Riddle show you anything there? Was there anything in the diary about — about where he might want to hide something?” Ginny shook her head. She yanked her arm from Hermione and backed away, until her hand groping behind her found the door handle. “How could you?” she said again. She slipped out of the room before Hermione could answer, shut the door, and leaned against the wall, her hand over her eyes. Images came back to her, images that she thought she had forgotten: the face of a handsome, smiling boy, whose eyes were cold and hypnotic; blood smeared on her hands and her clothes; feathers in her hair, stinking like rotted meat. And when the handsome boy talked to her, she disappeared from the world, and then darkness always came. She ran back to her room and flung open her trunk. She threw clothes and books onto the floor until she found the box of Skiving Skittles she had brought from Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes. She dumped its contents into her trembling hand and stared at the pills. If she took one now, she would have the excuse of a fever, or disgusting boils on her face, or a rash all over her body, and she would not have to face her teachers or her classmates for at least a day. She picked up a yellow Skittle and started to put it in her mouth. Then she stopped. A face appeared in her mind again, but it was not the face of Tom Riddle and his mesmerizing eyes. It was the face of Harry Potter, sitting in the kitchen of the Burrow, and his eyes were filled with despair. She put the Skittle down and got up from the floor. She looked in the mirror hanging over her dresser, and Harry’s face looked back at her, but now his green eyes were wide with the surprise and delight she had seen as she was throwing herself into his arms with the entire House of Gryffindor celebrating around them. She blinked, and her own face appeared in the mirror, tear–stained but with a fierce, blazing expression. Harry had told her about that expression, and what it had done to him, that same moment in the common room. Ginny jammed her clothes and the Skiving Skittles back into the trunk and slammed it shut. She sat on her bed, gathering her thoughts and feelings. They were confused, but she would not give in to the helplessness that the remembrance of Tom Riddle had evoked. She had feared him then, she hated him now, and Hermione had hinted that there was a way for her to repay him for the torment she had endured. Resolved now in her mind, she left the room and went to breakfast. Ginny did not do well in her classes that day; her mind was elsewhere. In Charms, she blew out an entire stained glass window when one of her spells mis–fired. In Potions, Professor Slughorn had to evacuate the classroom when she reversed two ingredients and a cloud of acrid green smoke started pouring out of her cauldron. She wandered absentmindedly through the day, thinking about what Hermione had said: “Think about it, Ginny. We opened the Chamber of Secrets.” Why had she said it that way, and why had they done it? If it was empty, why had they spent three days there among symbols of a vile monster and the piles of bones and hideous snake skins that littered it? They were looking for something that had to do with Voldemort, but Hermione was wrong about the diary. It had nothing but blank pages in it, and besides, it was a memory of Voldemort’s childhood, not of Voldemort. She tried to think of other things that might have some meaning. She racked her mind, but her memories of that experience were hard to hold onto; they kept fading in and out of her recollection. Harry, Ron, and Hermione appeared in the Great Hall at dinnertime, and Ginny watched Harry as closely as she could without being totally obvious. He was quiet but did not seem depressed or even upset; he gave her the quick smile he had been greeting her with since their talk at the beginning of term. Ron was predictably ravenous and began eating even before he sat down. Hermione cast a glance at her. Ginny responded with a nod. “Did you catch up on your sleep?” she asked Hermione. “Yup.” Hermione smiled. “How was your day?” “I had plenty to think about,” Ginny replied. A look passed between them and Ginny knew that Hermione understood.
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