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Author: Mr. Intel Story: Harry Potter and the Path of Light Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Abandoned Reviews: 5 Words: 45,919
Harry awoke the next morning before the rest of the household had emerged from their rooms. He made his way quietly down to the living room and sat in the same place on the sofa as he had when he arrived two nights ago. Pulling his legs underneath him, he thought about yesterday's events. Having worked only part of the previous day, he had anticipated that they would be behind in moving things around in the shop. But to his combined joy and dismay, Aberforth informed him that today would be the last day he would be working there and that he would be by to escort him to the shop when it was ready. Harry had asked what he meant by the shop being ready but never got a straight answer from the aged wizard. So now, he was busy trying to keep things smooth with Hermione. Since Harry unwisely spilled her secret to her mother, he'd made an extra effort to keep his mouth shut when Hermione's parents were around. So far, it had paid off, and no further slip-ups were made. After his chat with Hermione yesterday morning about dealing with Voldemort's threats to his friends, Harry had decided to take things one step at a time. Ginny, Neville, and Luna weren't with him physically, so his face-to-face relationships with them were effectively on hold, and he couldn't do anything about them, one way or another. Katie Bell was another matter entirely. Their proximity over the past few days, combined with the events of Harry's traumatic departure from Privet Drive, forced Harry and Katie to share parts of their lives together. Harry's intention was to distance himself from anyone who would think of him as a friend, but that plan tended to go out the window around Katie. She was simply too forceful. So it was with some relief he realized that he had only one more day at the bookshop to be around her. Harry laid his head back on the sofa and willed his neck muscles to relax. A few moments later, Hermione came downstairs and joined him on the sofa. "Have a good sleep?" she asked, peering at him through heavy eyelids. Her pajamas were frumpy, and her bushy hair was as messy as he'd ever seen it. "Not really," he answered. Then seeing the questioning look on her face, he said, "A lot on my mind." "Oh," she said simply. "Anything you'd like to talk about?" With a grateful glance, but still not completely comfortable with the subject himself, he said, "Thanks, but no." "Well, then," she said, slapping her hands on her knees and getting up from the sofa. "How'd you like to see some pictures?" "Sure," said Harry, grateful for the distraction. "What have you got?" After selecting a few albums from the bookcase next to the fireplace, she brought them over and set them on the coffee table. "There's my Hogwarts album." She tapped a Gryffindor-colored leather one. "One with pictures from when I was little." She colored slightly at this. "And this one is of our holiday in America." "From this year?" Harry asked. "Yeah." "You got them into an album pretty fast. I mean, you only got back last week!" said an astonished Harry. The Dursleys were very proud of Dudley and never spared a chance to show off pictures of him to their friends. Even so, they were never very quick about organizing the ones that didn't feature their whale-like son. "Well, my dad has this thing for getting the photos organized." She opened a cabinet by the television to reveal several dozen albums, apparently organized by year. "Wow! That's very...." But Harry couldn't quite figure out what it was. Hermione waved a hand in the air. "Don't worry about it. It's just one of his things." "So let's see your holiday photos, then." Clearly excited, she put the others away and pulled open the thick, green binder. "We wanted to do something different for holiday this year. Last year we went to France, the year before was Majorca, so this year, we drove through the American West!" Harry had never seen her so giddy. "It was great! We rented a mobile home, I think they called it an R.V., and we drove for miles and miles. It was so huge, Harry. Then we stopped to visit the Grand Canyon, and you know how I am with heights; it was very scary, and...." Harry had to shake his head as she continued showing him the photos. Hermione could be so talkative, and he really didn't care to hear all about the fascinating donkey ride down to the canyon bottom, or how inefficient the Americans are with their land usage. Now that he was thinking about it, he had to work hard to remember the fantastically attractive girl he had kissed two nights ago. What had he been thinking? Hermione was his best friend. Yeah, she was quite pretty, but they simply didn't click together. Perhaps it was the way she intellectualized everything, or how her emotions were completely separate from the rest of her. Whatever the reason, being with her now, hearing her go on and on about the American Indian reservations and the atrocious way they had been treated, Harry knew that she was his closest friend, but they would never be more than that. It was reassuring for him to have such a decisive experience with her. During Harry's fleeting relationship with Cho, he had always been second guessing himself. With Hermione, the boundaries were clear. They knew where they stood with each other, and that removed all of the awkwardness. Now he just needed to figure out Katie Bell.... His thoughts faded, and Hermione's words floated back into his mind. "...and they actually pump water for thousands of miles to allow them to farm in the desert. It's completely unrealistic, and it would never happen if wizards were in control of the situation." She paused to take a breath, and Harry decided to jump in while he had the chance. "How would wizards do it differently, then?" "Well, there are a number of spells for transportation, weather control, and simple conjuring. But if they were really smart about it, they would just not live in the desert to begin with!" Hermione was always good about pointing out the obvious to anyone who would listen. As if knowing that Harry needed rescuing, the Grangers emerged from the upper floor and invited them into the kitchen for breakfast. With a sigh of relief, Harry helped Hermione put the albums back, and they tucked into some toast and juice. Harry wiped his mouth with his napkin and placed it on his plate, stretching contentedly as his food sat happily in his belly. It was nice to be able to eat a meal without having to prepare it, to be around people who were pleasant, and to let his guard down for just a few moments. A loud squawk interrupted his thoughts, and they all turned to see an owl fly through the open kitchen window. It zoomed around in a large circle before settling in front of Harry. A bit taken aback by the sudden appearance of an owl after going so long without that sight, he took the letter tentatively from its leg and carefully opened it. The brown barn owl, a Ministry delivery owl from the look of it, leapt from the table and flew out the window. Dear Harry, You and Hermione are invited to spend the next few nights at the Burrow. Please have Hermione ask her parents for permission; Professor Dumbledore has already agreed to let you come. We will be picking you up from the Grangers' tonight at six o'clock. Molly has asked that I tell you to not eat dinner, as she intends to feed you when you arrive. Arthur Weasley Harry passed the parchment over to Hermione, who scanned it quickly. Her eyes brightened in surprise, and she thrust it at her mum. "I've been invited to go to the Weasleys'. Can I go, Mum?" Seeing the happy look on her daughter's face, it seemed that she couldn't say no. "Of course, sweetheart." Hermione grinned at her mother and resumed eating her toast. * Harry slammed into the bookstore's wooden floor with a crash an hour later, Aberforth at his side. At least the elderly wizard was standing up; Harry had yet to manage getting used to this form of travel. I hope Apparating is easier. Straightening up, he looked around the shop and almost thought they had arrived at the wrong place. All the shelves were gone, and the open space it created was truly enormous. There were cushions, feathers, a stack of books, and what looked like Quaffles piled in one of the corners of the shop. Harry turned to Aberforth to ask him what had happened but was silenced with a raised hand. The younger Dumbledore stood stock-still in the middle of the room, brown wool jacket slightly mussed, red-grey hair unkempt, and silently raised a hand towards the pile of Quaffles. One rose slowly in the air and gradually moved towards him, stopping when it was directly over his outstretched hand. Harry was in awe. Staring at the now spinning Quaffle, inches above Aberforth's hand, Harry tried to remember everything he had learned about wandless magic. It was supposed to disappear in wizards after they hit puberty. There were a precious few who had been able to hone the ability after reaching adulthood, but there were less than a handful every generation. As odd as the old man in front of him was, Harry vowed to never cross him again. The level of mental control that levitation and object manipulation like this required with a wand was unbelievable. For Aberforth to be doing this without a wand was simply staggering. The Quaffle was levitated back to the pile and placed back in almost exactly the spot that it came from. "As you can see, I have achieved a certain level of mental discipline that allows me to precisely control my magic," he said without any pretense of conceit, and Harry felt that he might even be acting a bit modest about it. "You will learn this as well." What? "I'm sorry? I don't think I can do that with my wand...." Absolutely ludicrous. "Wands prevent a wizard from utilizing his full potential. You will find that as you focus your mind appropriately, you can use your magic much more powerfully without yours." This set Harry's mind whirring. "If magic can be performed more powerfully without a wand, why do we all use one?" Aberforth looked Harry in the eye and said, "My brother was right, you do ask the right questions." But he didn't answer. Instead he held out his hand and said, "Your wand." Harry passed it over reluctantly. Aberforth slipped it into his pocket and resumed staring at Harry. It was very unnerving. "Close your eyes, and picture a feather in your mind." But Harry wasn't done asking questions. "I don't think I can do this. I mean, wouldn't I have been able to do this before?" Aberforth raised an eyebrow at his cheek and said, "When was the last time you performed wandless magic?" "Well," he said, thinking back to last year. "I made my wand light up when I couldn't see it, during a Dementor attack." "Exactly. This is no different; you just need the proper training. Now, the feather, if you please." Still not satisfied, but wanting to get on with things, he closed his eyes, and the image of a feather appeared in his mind. His Occlumency practice was actually helping him, as the feather in his mind's eye was quite detailed. "All right," Harry answered. "Now tell your mind to make it float. You may find it easier to say the incantation in your head as you do this." The feather was suspended in his mind, exactly the same as the one he first levitated in first year. It was about up to eye level, and he wanted to lift it up to the ceiling, but something stopped him. "Don't get carried away, lad," came Aberforth's voice. Harry chanced a peek and saw in front of him a feather, hovering exactly as he pictured it. In his shock, he lost his concentration, and the feather floated soundlessly to the floor. "There, that wasn't too hard." Aberforth pointed his hand at the feather, and it zoomed into his palm. "Tell me, did you say the incantation?" "No. I-I didn't." Harry was still a bit surprised at his ability to levitate the feather. Was it possible? His head felt light, and the bookshop spun slightly as he tried to balance himself. "Steady, lad," said Aberforth as he held Harry's shoulder to keep him from toppling over. "You'll feel a bit lightheaded as you begin to utilize your natural abilities, but it should wear off with practice." Harry's world stopped spinning, and the older wizard let go of his shoulder. "Is this the first time you've reacted like this to using wandless magic?" Harry shook his head to clear the last vestiges of disorientation and said, "Not really." "Interesting," he said without further articulation. "We'll work on summoning and banishing today, and then more complicated magic once you've mastered those." With that, they began working in earnest. Summoning seemed to come naturally to Harry, and he had no problem picking that up without his wand. Banishing, on the other hand, was a bit more problematic. Aberforth was wandlessly tossing pillows at him, and Harry was trying to banish them back. After being hit by several in the head, he asked for a break. Harry realized he'd never felt as drained as he did at that moment. Aberforth went to the back office and retrieved a tray with a pitcher and two glasses. They sat in the middle of a pile of battered books, Harry drinking deeply from his pumpkin juice. "You will practice wandless summoning and banishing while you are at the Weasleys'," Aberforth announced, placing his glass back on the tray. "Um," Harry said tentatively. "Won't I get expelled for performing underage magic?" The elderly wizard shook his head and said, "The Ministry is no longer monitoring the Burrow, as they are not monitoring this shop." His eyes were twinkling, and Harry was again reminded strongly of the fact the he was brothers with his Headmaster. "And even if it did, you use less magical energy when you perform spells wandlessly." Aberforth raised himself off the floor and sent the tray back to the storeroom. "They wouldn't be able to detect you if you used either of those two spells." Harry considered this for a moment and said, "A house-elf performed a hover charm in my house, just before my second year, and the Improper Use of Magic Office sent a letter...." But Aberforth's outstretched hand stopped him mid-sentence. "Do not confuse elf magic with human magic. Elves have a magic more ancient than ours, and it requires more energy than you would expect to be contained in their small bodies." He paused to let this sink in and finished, "Do not underestimate the power of the elves." Not letting Harry get in a word edgewise, Aberforth handed his wand and Portkey back to him and activated it with a smile. "See you in a few days," were the last words he heard before being whisked away to Hermione's house. * The elder Grangers were out shopping when Harry arrived, so after packing their things, he and Hermione decided to have a game of chess. Harry's only experience with the game had been with Ron, who was decidedly better than Hermione. In fact, so dismal was her performance that several of the white pieces refused to follow her orders, insisting that she was leading them to their doom. After four very short games, the Grangers' living room clock sounded out six chimes, announcing that it was time for them to leave. Stretching his arms, Harry stood up slowly and let a huge yawn split his face. Hermione, however, shot up like she had been electrocuted and ran for her trunk. "It's time, Harry!" He shrugged in mock apathy, and she slapped his arm. "Don't you want to see Ron and the rest of the Weasleys?" Harry looked at her peculiarly. "Oh, I'm excited to go, just not as much as you. And I'm certainly not as excited to see any particular Weasley, like you." With a modest blush, she changed tactics. "Yes, well...I know for a fact that one of them is excited to see you. So let's get over there already." Suddenly perplexed, Harry gave in. "Alright, I'm coming." Hermione threw a handful of Floo powder into the small fire and shouted, "The Burrow!" and disappeared into the bright green flames. Dragging his trunk to the grate, he continued to puzzle over which Weasley would be excited to see him. Ron was obviously his best mate and would be happy to have him back at the Burrow, but Hermione wouldn't have made a big deal about Ron. Maybe Mrs. Weasley was anxious to get him to eat. From Mr. Weasley's letter, she seemed keen to begin her mothering routine, one that Harry was secretly grateful for. Shrugging it off, he grabbed some powder, repeated Hermione's actions to activate the Floo connection, and stepped into the green fire. * Through the swirling clouds of soot, Harry saw a flash of red and stuck his feet out to catch the hearth opening at the Burrow. Instead of sliding through the grate, he tumbled forward ungracefully. He threw out his hands to try to catch his balance but ended up tripping on his trunk and slammed into something soft, collapsing in a heap on the floor. Traveling by Floo was certainly not his forte. An indignant cry came from the soft thing underneath Harry, and he scrambled to quickly get off of it. As he adjusted his glasses, the world came back into focus, and he was presented with the angry form of Ginny Weasley. She straightened her blouse, took a deep breath and lit into him. "Harry Potter, if you ever do that again, I'll hex you so badly your hair won't grow back for a month!" the petite redhead fumed. A resounding slap echoed in the house, and then she turned on her heel and stomped up the stairs, presumably to her room. Not quite expecting to be on anyone's bad side so quickly, Harry desperately tried to figure out what he had done to be faced with the youngest Weasley's wrath. He rubbed his cheek absently and looked at the rest of the occupants of the Burrow's kitchen. Hermione was standing next to Mrs. Weasley, who was brushing off the soot from her robes. Ron was smirking at his best friend, shaking his head slightly. "What's so funny, Ron?" Harry asked, a bit poutingly. Still grinning, Ron shared a glance with his mother and said, "You'll find out soon enough, Harry." Grabbing his trunk with one hand, he clapped Harry on the back. "Let's get you upstairs, then." With a very confused look on his throbbing face, Harry dutifully followed Ron up the stairs. "What's with Ginny, anyways?" Ron pushed the door to his room open and motioned for Harry to help him carry his trunk through the doorway. Each boy grabbed an end and heaved it into the violently-orange bedroom. With it securely wedged between Ron's trunk and the closet, they sat on their respective beds, breathing heavily from their exertion. "You'll have to ask her, mate." Ron scratched his head in thought. "That's one witch I'd never want to cross." Tenderly feeling the side of his face, Harry had to agree. "I should probably wait a bit to ask her, eh?" he wondered out loud. "Definitely," Ron chuckled. Then turning a serious glance at Harry, he said, "Now what's this I hear about you and Katie?" The red handprint on Harry's face was quickly camouflaged by a flush of embarrassment. "There's nothing going on with...." Ron cut him off quickly with another laugh. "Harry, Harry, Harry." He shook his head disapprovingly and said, "You don't have to lie to me, mate." Harry was shocked. Ron was teasing him about a girl, and he was doing a good job. "Are you pulling the mickey out of me?" "Are you snogging Katie Bell?" A sharp squeak from the hallway made them turn around, and they saw a shock of long, red hair disappearing from the half-open door. "Listen, Ron, I'd better go take care of this now." Without another word, he ran from Ron's room and made for Ginny's. Better and better, he thought morbidly. Just when he had made overtures to Ginny as a friend, he had found a way to muck it up. What was most infuriating about the situation was that he didn't quite know how he had mucked it up. Arriving outside Ginny's room, he took a steadying breath and rapped solidly on her door. Harry's heart sank as he heard the muffled sounds of someone crying. Hermione's head appeared immediately in the doorway. "Oh, Harry. I'm afraid this isn't the best time to talk to her." "I need to sort this out with her, Hermione," he said, heatedly. Then regaining a little composure, he said, "I don't even know what I did to set her off." "She's a little dangerous right now, Harry. I really don't think it would be good to upset her any more than she is." Harry's eyebrows rose in surprise. Dangerous? "Well, I think I can handle myself, thanks," and he pushed past Hermione to walk into the room. Expecting to see a distraught witch, crying into a pillow on her bed, Harry was more than surprised to see said pillow flying at his face. Without any thought whatsoever, he raised his hand and executed a perfect wandless banishing charm, sending the pillow right back at Ginny. Having just unsuccessfully finished training with Aberforth, it was quite surprising that he was able to perform the charm correctly. Her eyes momentarily widened in surprise, and then she ducked as the pillow sailed onto her bed. A look of fury was etched into her face, and with wild eyes, she launched herself at Harry. Hand still extended, he flicked it ever so slightly and pictured her body floating in front of him. Ginny's feet left the ground, and she started to float, but her forward momentum still carried her towards Harry. As soon as she was within range, she threw a punch into his midsection, which broke his concentration, and they both hit the ground. Ginny apparently wasn't done with Harry yet, as she jumped on top of him, pinned him to the ground, and started beating her fists on his chest. "Don't ever do that to me again, Harry! Ever!" Her blows became less severe, and she started to sob. Gently, Harry reached up his hands and grabbed her wrists to stop the punishment. She didn't resist but buried her face on his shoulder and cried even harder. Now completely bewildered, he looked up at Hermione, who had watched the entire display. She had her arms folded in disapproval and was tutting under her breath. Harry let go of Ginny's hands and wrapped her in a hug. He tried to sit them up, as the floor was entirely too uncomfortable, but she wasn't having any of it and pushed him back down. Then a sound came from the doorway as Mrs. Weasley came into the room. "What on earth...?" Seeming to come to her senses, Ginny shot up from her position on top of Harry and wiped her hair from her face. "Mum!" Harry again tried to sit up from his supine position, but his shirt caught on the closet door and jerked him back down. This movement caused Mrs. Weasley to look at Harry again. "Whatever are you doing on the floor, dear?" She bent down to unhook his shirt and said, "And what was that awful racket I heard?" Ginny, still out of sorts, said, "Nothing important, Mum! Harry fell, and I was trying to help him up. So just let me finish with him, and he'll be fine." Harry thought he heard a snort out of Hermione but couldn't be sure as her face was completely buried in her hands. Mrs. Weasley looked more than a bit skeptical but relented. "If you're sure, Ginny." "Yes! I'm sure...more than sure." Ginny proceeded to push her mother out the door and said, "We'll call you if we need anything." After the door clicked shut, Ginny spun on Harry once more, who had finally made it back to a standing position. Before she could work herself back up to a full fury, Harry decided to head her off. "Ginny, please listen to me?" He held up his hands in front of him as a peace offering. When she didn't move towards him, he took it as a positive sign and said, "I don't know why I've upset you, Ginny, but I want to fix it." Her eyes relaxed, and her breathing became more even as the tension in the room started to dissipate. She seemed to be battling with something in her mind, but whatever it was, the part of her that wanted to forgive Harry appeared to be winning. He took a tentative step towards her, hands still outstretched. Something changed in her face, and she spoke. "I was worried sick about you...since the night of the attack. If you had died, I don't know...I don't know what I'd have done." Then the fury returned, and Harry's confidence left him. "Then I hear you've been off snogging Katie Bell this whole time! What was I supposed to think? How was I supposed to react?" she finished beratingly. Harry's face fell with shame. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I didn't know you were so worried about me. I...I just didn't think...." "You didn't think! I thought you were my friend, Harry? I thought I could trust you, but I obviously thought wrong." The sentence hung in the air as Harry tried to find a way out of this horrible mess. Then he remembered something she said. "Ginny, I never snogged Katie. She's been a bit flirty with me, but we haven't kissed. Besides, I haven't kissed anyone since...." He had been about to say Cho but caught short when he remembered what happened with Hermione. It was something that he had dismissed as a passing moment, one that Hermione was ready to agree to forget as well, so it was almost a nonevent. Ginny, however, might not understand, and as fragile as their relationship was, he didn't want to risk having one more thing come between them. His desires were not realized, as she quickly said, "Since whom? Cho? Is that what you were going to say?" A cold sweat enveloped him as he stared into the abyss of their conversation. "I..." he said lamely. Then against his will, Harry's eyes flicked to Hermione, who was white as a sheet, no longer finding humor in the conversation. Ginny followed Harry's eyes and gasped, "You've been kissing Hermione?" Hermione was looking steadfastly at the bedroom door and said, simply, "Yes, we kissed...on the night of the attack." She opened her mouth to continue, but Ginny cut her off. "I don't want to hear it, Hermione." Now instead of anger, there was only sadness in her voice. "All you had to do was write a few words in a journal. Was that too much to ask? Just to let us know you were all right?" "No! Ginny, that's not what...." "Harry! I don't want to hear it! So just leave me alone!" Ginny walked morbidly over to her bed and collapsed haphazardly on it. "I just need to think-I need to be alone." Harry sighed dejectedly and walked slowly over to where Hermione was standing, intent on walking out with her. When he got there, his view of the doorway cleared, and he saw that the door was no longer closed and filling the frame was Ron. Hermione had been staring at him the whole time, not the door, and still had not taken her eyes off of him. They seemed to be locked in some kind of wordless battle. Finally, Ron blinked and said, "It looks like you two better find another place to sleep tonight. Maybe you'll be better off sleeping together anyway." Ron's voice was toneless and dead, as if the life had been sucked from the words before they were uttered. Harry didn't even think Ron realized he had joked about him and Hermione sleeping together. As Ron walked slowly back to his room, Hermione finally looked up at Harry, just as dead looking as Ron's words. Harry couldn't imagine a worse situation between the four friends and couldn't see how they were going to work through it. Harry reached for Hermione's arm and he led her downstairs to the living room. * Dinner was stiff and quiet, strikingly abnormal for the Weasley household. Ron and Ginny made it abundantly clear that they wanted nothing to do with their two guests, and Ginny had even made a show about not coming to dinner until her mother insisted. Harry and Hermione sat together, opposite Ginny and Ron, and stared at their plates in silence, morbidly pushing the food around with their forks. This did not go unnoticed by the eldest Weasleys. "Is the food all right, Harry, dear?" she asked with genuine concern in her voice. Harry looked up from his plate and shrugged noncommittally. "It's great, Mrs. Weasley." He grabbed a forkful of the unidentified meat and shoved it in his mouth as if to demonstrate his sincerity. As good-natured a woman as she was, Mrs. Weasley was not obtuse, and her eyes narrowed as she shifted her gaze to her two youngest. "This wouldn't be about what happened upstairs, would it?" When Harry didn't answer, Ginny decided to continue her distraction techniques. "It's all handled, Mum. We know exactly where everyone stands on the issue." "Too bad you don't have all the facts," piped in Harry, no longer able to sit idle while their friendships teetered on the brink of doom. "Oh, we've heard plenty of facts," interjected Ron icily. "Enough to know just how much our friendship means." "If you'd only listen to what really happened instead of jumping to wild conclusions..." Hermione tried to say before Ron interrupted again. "That's just it, Hermione. I know all there is to know. You and Harry! How's that for a fact!" His face had turned an angry red, and Harry could tell that this would only get worse before it got better. Ginny had been about to burst this whole time and jumped in when Hermione rocked back in her chair at Ron's biting tone. "Instead of letting us know that you weren't hurt after the attack, you found Hermione and-and took advantage of your best friend." "Ginny, I..." started Harry. "No, Harry," she said, tears running down her cheeks. "You still don't get it, do you? I was up all night worrying about you!" She chucked her napkin onto her plate and stood up roughly. "I hope you treat Hermione with more respect than you have me." "Now see here!" said Mrs. Weasley, but Ginny was already on the stairs. "Get back here, young lady, and apologize!" she yelled at her retreating form. When it was apparent that she wasn't coming back, Mrs. Weasley pushed herself away from the table and stomped up the stairs after her. Hermione took a deep breath and looked sadly at Ron's dejected face. "We decided that the kissing thing didn't work for us," she said quietly. Ron's head jerked up, and he asked, "What did you say?" "What we have is love, but not like that, Ron," said Harry, taking over for her. "The kiss just didn't click, there was nothing there, so we decided e that we were much better off as friends than anything else." "Friends?" asked Ron dumbly. His face was twisted in thought, much as it did when he was playing a particularly difficult game of chess. "We've decided that we love each other, but it's like how you love Ginny," she said a little bit more confidently. "It just didn't work for us." Ron was still staring at his plate as he contemplated their words. Harry added, "I reckon she doesn't fancy black-haired blokes." This earned him a kick from Hermione, but the effect in their friend was immediate. His mouth opened slightly, and the gears continued to grind in his head. "What-what color hair do you prefer, Hermione?" Their eyes met, and Harry was sure that Hermione would balk. "I've always fancied...." She paused and licked her lips nervously. "Red hair, Ron." Harry said a silent cheer in his head and had to restrain himself from jumping up in the air with happiness. Ron was as red as before, but the rage was spent. He stared stupidly at the brown-haired girl across from him and muttered under his breath, "Red...she said red." Slowly, a grin broke over Ron's expression, and a tear slipped from Hermione's eye. Silent through the entire ordeal, Mr. Weasley pulled himself from his chair and motioned for Harry to follow him. "Let's give them a moment, shall we?" he whispered in his ear as they headed out to the garden. A cool evening breeze caressed Harry's face as they walked towards the shed. His hair blew haphazardly around his head, and he let out a breath, exhaling the stress of the evening. Being outside was a welcome change from the stifling environment of the kitchen, but Harry's thoughts drifted up to the second level, where Ginny was undoubtedly railing to her mother about him. He sighed and unsuccessfully tried to muddle through the situation in his head. "Brilliant, aren't they?" said Mr. Weasley as they stopped on the well-worn dirt path. Confused, Harry looked up and saw that he was staring at the sky. The last rays of sunlight had ebbed away on the western horizon, and the inky blackness of night was awash in billions of stars. It was breathtaking. "I've never really noticed before," replied Harry. To be honest, he'd spent time looking at the stars, but that had been in the city. Out in the peace of Ottery St. Catchpole, the scene was much different. "I never noticed how close they seem." "Life's funny that way, Harry. Sometimes the most beautiful things are so close that you can't see them for what they are." The older man peered down to look at Harry and added, "I reckon Ron is discovering that about Hermione right about now." A smile crept on his lips again as Harry thought about his best friends talking in the kitchen. "Do you think they'll be all right together? I mean, they've always liked a good row...." Chuckling slightly, Mr. Weasley said, "I'm sure that's just their way of saying how fond they are of each other." Harry thought about that for a moment and gazed back up to the stars. Ron had found someone who wanted to be more than a friend with him. Is that something I want? Who would want to be close to me? A picture of Katie Bell appeared in his mind, and he tried to imagine them together. That picture faded and was replaced by an image of Ginny, who had recently and stubbornly wedged her way into his life. Harry realized that she was the kind of friend that many people never had. She was loyal, understanding, and unafraid of the danger of being near Voldemort's prime target. Ginny was intelligent like Hermione, brave like Ron, and pretty. Pretty? Well, she was, but she was also pretty angry with him at the moment. Then, as if reading his thoughts, Mr. Weasley said, "You know, Ginny has quite a temper, and for that you can blame her parents. But she's got her heart in the right place and just wants to see you happy." A muddle of feelings swirled around his head as he contemplated the enigma that was Ginny Weasley. He heaved a sigh and asked, "Why are girls so hard to understand?" Mr. Weasley let out a full laugh, hearty and joyful, and slapped Harry on the back. "That, my boy, is exactly the question that has vexed many a man for centuries." Then, pulling Harry around to face him, he put his hands on his shoulders and said, "If you work it out though, will you let the rest of us know?" Harry smiled and nodded his head. "I'm nowhere near that, so it may be a while," he joked. "Well, I reckon we better get back inside before the girls thoroughly confuse poor Ron. I think Ginny should be safe to approach now." Harry looked up and asked, "You...you think I should talk to her?" "Most definitely. Like I said, she's got a temper that's easily set off, but she usually cools down just as quickly." As they walked into the kitchen again, Harry noticed that Ron and Hermione were no longer at the table but were talking quietly in the living room. They seemed to have worked things out, as Ron still had his head attached. Mrs. Weasley came downstairs then and shared a look with her husband. He nodded imperceptibly, and Harry had to wonder what they were saying to each other. "She's upstairs, Harry," said Mrs. Weasley. Looking tentatively from Ginny's mum to her dad, Harry said, "I'll just go up to see her, then?" "That's a good lad, Harry," said Mr. Weasley, with a little shove towards the staircase. Harry slipped quietly upstairs to the second landing, where he knew the doors to the bathroom and Ginny's bedrooms were located. Seeing a light shining under the door to her room, he padded over to it and knocked softly. He could hear the sounds of parchment rustling and the clinking of glass through the wooden door. "Come in, Harry," came Ginny's tranquil voice. Pushing the door open slowly, he moved into her room with a feeling of apprehension in his stomach. This was the second time Harry had been in her room, but he hadn't taken the time to look at it before. It contrasted sharply with the only other girl's room he had ever been in. While Hermione's had been organized and clean, Ginny's was filled with memorabilia from her days at Hogwarts and pictures of friends and family. There were books on her small desk, but they were not the center of attention, like in his bushy-haired friend's room. Ginny was busy putting papers, books, and things into her trunk. "Going somewhere?" he asked, trying to think of a way to draw out the inevitable confrontation that lay before them. "Oh. Umm...yes," she answered hesitantly. "You do know that it's the first of August in two days and not the first of September, right?" Harry asked, attempting to lighten the mood. She stopped packing and raised her eyebrows at him, as if appraising his sanity. "Do I look stupid, Harry?" Flushing with embarrassment, he tried to smooth things over. "N-No, I certainly don't think that you're stupid, but you have to admit that it is a bit strange to be packing a whole month early." "Listen, Harry," she said, cutting him off and moving to put a pile of robes in her trunk. "Mum explained the thing with Hermione, so you don't have to tell me." Her tone told him that she still wasn't quite over it. Deciding that arguing with her wasn't his best option, he asked, "So where are you going, then?" "I can't tell you that, but I'm leaving tomorrow, all right?" Ginny's eyes told him that she still wasn't in a laughing mood, so Harry decided to try something different. "All right." He shuffled his feet slightly. "Thank you." Halting her packing job once more, she sent a questioning look at him, and Harry could see her face soften a little at his words. "For what?" "For being there for me when I needed you," he offered with a smile of gratitude. Still sending him a probing look, she asked, "When?" Harry sat down on her bed, and Ginny had to move a pile of socks before he squashed them. "You remember when I told about how I was possessed by Voldemort?" She nodded mutely. "You remember how I told you not to cry?" he asked, looking probingly into her eyes. Her head bobbed again, sending a piece of hair into her eyes that she brushed away slowly. "Did you ever wonder how I knew you were crying?" A look of bewilderment crossed her face, then comprehension, and she asked, "Yeah...how did you know?" "Your tears left marks on the journal that transferred through to mine. I've never had anyone cry over me before, Gin. At least...none that I've known about before." He was looking at her brown sandals because he couldn't look at her face. They were scarred, and one of the buckles had recently been glued back on. "You're welcome, Harry," she said softly. He chanced a look at her face and had to catch his breath at the intense emotion displayed on it. There was love, mixed with a trace of pain, and it dawned on him just how much she cared for him. It was frightening, and he didn't know what he should, or could do about it. "Yeah. Well, if you need help with packing or anything...." A flicker of something flashed on her face, and Harry couldn't read what it was. "I think I've got it covered, Harry," she said, her hands hanging lamely at her sides. "Right. I'll just head downstairs, then...." He turned to leave, but Ginny grabbed his hand. "Harry?" A tingling sensation shot up his arm, and he could feel every nerve in the hand she was holding. He looked up and sucked in a breath. "Yes, Ginny?" he whispered, dropping her hand. "I'm sorry for yelling at you downstairs. I'm sorry for assuming the worst about you. I...." Harry put his fingers to her lips, hovering just in front of her face, enveloped by her warm breath. "I understand, Gin. I'm sorry, too." He slowly let his hand drop and took a step back, heart thudding unreasonably fast in his chest. Ginny made to follow his movement but hesitated and moved only a half step forward. "Harry, I want to work this out with you, but I just...can't right now." She screwed her eyes closed for a moment and clenched her fists. "I'm leaving tomorrow. I'm working on something, but I can't talk about it-not now." Her words faded out into nothingness, and Harry realized that there would be no conclusion to their conversation tonight. He fought with this thought and vowed to make sure he and Ginny got things resolved as soon as she returned. "When are you going to come back?" Ginny closed her eyes again and let out her breath. "Maybe two weeks from now. I don't really know what to expect, so I can't be sure." Shaking his head in acquiescence, Harry said, "We'll talk more then, I hope." "Absolutely, Harry. I'd like that," she said with a small smile. "I'll go check on Ron and Hermione, then," he said with a sigh. "See you tomorrow, Harry." "Good night, Gin." Harry turned around and, with a thousand thoughts flowing through his mind, walked back down to see his best friends.
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