|
||||||||
|
||||||||
Author: St Margarets Story: The New Zealand Chronicles Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-DH Status: Completed Reviews: 18 Words: 170,671
“I think we found the best way to kick off a new year,” Harry answered, smiling at her. “Or a new century, for that matter.” They had spent all of New Year’s Day in bed together. During those long golden hours when they had lain with limbs entwined, languorously talking and touching, Ginny had felt such a blissful closeness with him that she didn’t want it to end. “We just had one day alone together,” she pouted. “And now everything is going to be busy again.” He touched her lower lip. “Whenever you want to model shoes for me I’ll clear my schedule.” She laughed because she knew that would be the only time he ever noticed her shoes. Then she sobered as she watched him Disapparate. He would be training in earnest now that the long, warm days were upon them. The Tiki Tour Bus would be busier than ever with families on holiday and more and more prospectors would be combing the South Island for that elusive Floo Powder. Ginny sighed and got out of bed. It seemed it was time to face the second day of the new century. * Two hectic weeks later, she managed to spend an afternoon with Hezzie at the lake. In between swims, Hezzie told her about her trip to Iowa and how it snowed on Christmas Eve just like it should. “It’s funny, though. I missed New Zealand while I was there. Part of me actually wanted summer for Christmas.” Ginny noticed she didn’t admit to missing Niall whilst in Iowa. “I wish I could have met your parents, Ginny,” Hezzie said as they settled on their towels to warm up in the sun. “I heard they went to Barbara’s Boxing Day barbeque.” “They did.” Ginny looked sideways at Hezzie and decided to get to the point. “Er – Kenny went to that barbeque, too.” Hezzie stiffened, but answered steadily. “He’s related to Barbara.” She fiddled with her glasses and then put them on and looked out over the sparkling water. “Did you talk to him?” “Briefly.” “Just briefly?” Now she turned to Ginny. “I thought you knew him from the ship.” “How did you know he was the Healer on our ship?” Ginny gasped. “You mentioned his name when Healer Welby examined you the first day,” Hezzie answered. Then she smiled wryly. “I’ve been waiting for you to tell me about him ever since you got here.” Ginny stared at her. “Why didn’t you just ask?” “I didn’t want to seem pathetic?” Ginny laughed at the half-amused, half-serious expression on Hezzie’s face. “You’re not pathetic.” Then she briefly told her about breaking her ankles and their encounters with Healer Jones on the ship. Hezzie nodded. “He’s a wonderful Healer – great with bones and joints. You couldn’t have had a better wizard taking care of you.” She bit her lip. “How was he at the barbeque?” “Fine.” Ginny hesitated. Hezzie noticed her hesitation. “What?” “Well, that Healer from the third floor – what’s his name?” Hezzie frowned. “Greg?” “I think so. Anyway – whilst Kenny was talking to Oscar and me, this Greg person butted in and told Kenny you were in Iowa and that you were going out with Niall Dunbrack.” Pain flitted across her face and then she pressed her lips together. “Hezzie?” “Greg always hated Kenny,” she answered. “What a nightmare – and I wasn’t even there this time.” “This time?” She laughed weakly. “Ginny, Waikikamukau District is a small place. New Zealand is a small place when you get right down to it. And you can get a reputation so easily…” She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. It was a protective gesture. “Jolene tried to tell me that,” Ginny said. “When I first got here. She didn’t want me to have a bad reputation about my housekeeping.” “Housekeeping.” Hezzie shook her head and rested her chin on her knees. “I had a reputation for being a flirt from day one.” She closed her eyes. “Then Kenny and I started to go out. We were very happy and then…” Ginny could see where this was going. The gossips probably saw a natural progression from being a flirt one day to sleeping around the next… Hezzie drew a deep breath. “And then I was part of a bet – it was all in fun with some other Healers. I lost and had to kiss Greg. Kenny saw and got the wrong idea. We patched it up for awhile but I was still angry that he didn’t trust me – so I –” She sighed. “So I just went ahead and lived up to my reputation and flirted with everyone whenever Kenny was around.” She swallowed. “He got tired of my games, as he called them.” She glanced at Ginny. “Then, after we broke up, I sort of rubbed it in his face and I dated a lot. Not that I did anything with any of them,” she hastened to add. “I couldn’t. But by then the gap between us was so deep, there wasn’t anything that could bridge it – even though I still loved him.” The sun was warm on her shoulders, but Ginny felt a chill. Here was another example of love that hurt and divided two good people. And it was frightening to realize how she and Harry had skirted that same sort of a gap the day they arrived in New Zealand. “Sorry,” she whispered, not knowing what else to say. Hezzie unlocked her arms from around her knees and stretched out her legs. “It’s okay.” She looked over her shoulder at Ginny. “Really. It was a long time ago. And Kenny has moved on – literally, on that ship – and so have I.” She tossed her short wavy hair and held her face up to the sun. “You never asked me what I told Niall when I got back from Iowa.” “I forgot,” Ginny gasped. “You were going to decide about marrying him.” “I did decide,” Hezzie said. “I’m going to marry him.” Ginny sat in stunned silence. After such an impassioned confession about Kenny it was hard to remember that Niall even existed. “I have to meet his parents before we announce our engagement,” Hezzie continued, oblivious to Ginny’s shock. “And since his father is attending that International Conference in England, I won’t meet them until Easter at the earliest. So you can’t tell anyone about us yet.” “All right,” she agreed, and then automatically added, “I have to tell Harry, though.” “Of course, you can tell Harry.” Then Ginny saw a glimmer of the old Hezzie when she winked and added cheekily, “It’s not like he's known for gossiping.” Then she sobered, took a deep breath, and continued explaining their plans in a businesslike tone. “Niall has to finish the course, which takes us to August – so I can’t see us actually marrying until maybe a year from now…” Ginny couldn’t stand it any longer. “Hezzie! After what you just told me about Kenny, I can’t believe you can marry Niall.” Hezzie dropped her façade of calm practicality. “Kenny is all but dead to me now,” she said quietly. “That’s the way I have to look at it. But I’m still alive.” Tears stood in her eyes. “I want to have babies – and I can’t do that with memories.” “Hezzie.” “My sister just had a baby.” Her voice softened. “And when I held that warm little body, I felt…” She glanced at Ginny. “Such longing.” Ginny opened her mouth to say something else, but Hezzie cut her off. “You’re a lot younger than I am,” she said. “You’re having your adventure with Harry. You don’t need a baby to complicate that right now. But I’ve had my adventure finding the work I want to do. I’ve traveled all over. Now I want to settle down and have a family and maybe do some good in the world.” She was so earnest and so determined and so sensible, that Ginny decided right then and there she didn’t have any better answers for Hezzie. “Sorry. I mean. I should say ‘congratulations.’” Hezzie smiled. “Thanks. You’re a good friend. You accept me like I am – like Niall – he doesn’t mind that I flirt.” “That’s because he flirts,” Ginny retorted before she could stop herself. “He does,” Hezzie conceded. “But he flirts like I do. He doesn’t want anything – he just likes people and he likes to enjoy himself.” This was true, Ginny realized, which was probably why she liked Niall despite the fact he was rich and famous and charming. “I hope you’ll both be happy,” she said. And what she lacked in enthusiasm, she made up for in sincerity. * Harry didn’t quite understand why Ginny was so worried about Hezzie and Niall’s quiet engagement since he thought Niall would be better off married than alone in the world. That’s when Ginny realized with a warm glow that Harry was truly happy being married. Even though they had their occasional spats about silly things like Harry’s habit of storing his clothes on the floor or Ginny’s ‘hang up’ about wearing wrinkled clothes, they got along remarkably well in their day-to-day life. Because February in New Zealand was a lot like August in England, they both forgot to prepare for Valentine’s Day. When Ginny pointed out their oversight on the evening of the fourteenth, Harry suggested they should just pretend it was New Year’s Day all over again. She promptly dug out a pair of high heels from the back of her closet and Harry stood on the front step and waited for her to open the door with a smile. Much later that night they concluded that chocolate and pink hearts were unnecessary to properly celebrate the day. Ginny didn’t forget, but she ended up missing the next Calling Conch Call Harry had with Ron because she was called out with the Apparating Ambulance. By the time she returned home after transporting the three wizards who had drunkenly woken a sleeping giant, Harry had already finished talking. “How were they?” Ginny asked, rummaging in the cupboards for a bag of crisps to snack on. “I didn’t talk to Hermione,” Harry answered, helping himself to some of her crisps. “It was just Ron.” They had probably talked about Quidditch the whole time, Ginny thought. But surely Ron would have said something about Hermione… “Well?” “Well – what?” “Are they engaged? Did Ron buy her a ring for Valentine’s Day?” Harry’s eyebrows rose. “Ron’s still in Auror training.” “So they’re not.” She was vaguely disappointed that Ron and Hermione hadn’t really committed to each other yet. “It’s Hermione’s first year working at the Ministry,” Harry pointed out, taking more crisps. “And Ron has another year before he’s a full-fledged Auror.” “Well, how did he sound?” she asked. “Drunk.” “What!” “It’s his birthday.” Harry shrugged, but he looked a little worried. “You’re not telling me something.” Harry’s eyes flitted to hers and then he looked away. “Okay, I’ll tell you. But don’t worry – this is just Ron. Sometimes he –” “I know how Ron can be!” she retorted. “What did he do?” “I don’t think he’s done anything – yet.” “What’s he thinking about doing, then?” She asked impatiently – sometimes trying to get something out of Harry was like pulling teeth. “I don’t know.” Harry ran his hand through his hair in agitation. “Quitting Aurors, breaking up with Hermione, becoming a Kestrel’s fan.” “Breaking up with Hermione!” “It was just talk,” Harry said in a reassuring tone, although he still looked worried. “They had a row –” “They always have rows.” “Yeah. Well, this must have been a good one because Ron couldn’t remember if she had broken up with him or had just threatened to.” “Oh no,” Ginny groaned. “I’m sure it’s not that bad since you know how Ron gets when he’s had a few.” She nodded. Ron veered between wildly optimistic and despairingly pessimistic – sometimes in the same sentence. “So who’s with him? He wasn’t alone, was he?” “He was alone to talk to me, but he was going to do something with Fred and George.” That wasn’t reassuring, either. Although Ginny knew Fred and George would take care of Ron, she wasn’t so sure they would ever let him forget it. She sighed. “There’s nothing we can do from here,” Harry said firmly. “Ron and Hermione have to work it out.” Harry was right, but she was still worried about them. She frowned. “Why are you keen to see Niall and Hezzie married and not Ron and Hermione?” “I’m not keen,” Harry said, emphasizing that word. “It’s just that Ron needs to decide what he wants to do before he takes on Hermione.” She snorted. “Takes on Hermione – what does that mean?” He smiled. “Hermione has a way of…” “Bossing?” “Yeah – kinda.” He took another crisp. “She won’t be happy unless Ron is happy. And Ron won’t be happy unless he’s doing something he likes and it’s his idea. If Hermione tries to talk him into anything –” “He’ll resent her and what he’s doing.” Harry nodded. “Right.” Ginny took another crisp. “What about Hermione? What does she want?” Harry cocked his head in thought. “I think she wants Ron to be happy and she wants some room to do what she wants.” “What does she want to do?” she asked with a frown. She pushed the bag of crisps to Harry. She had eaten too many already. “Ron didn’t really say – but I got the sense that Hermione’s not that happy working for the Ministry.” “Really?” “It’s all rules and procedures and everything happens slowly.” Harry shrugged. “Hermione likes to get things done, you know.” Ginny nodded. Hermione had helped Harry get a lot done over the years – no wonder she didn’t like government red tape. “I hope they help each other – you know – decide what to do.” It had been awful when she had to start from scratch trying to use her talents, but Harry had at least been on her side the whole time. “They’re better working together – that’s for sure,” Harry agreed. Then he held up the empty bag of crisps. Between the two of them they had polished off the whole bag. Ginny laughed. “Now that’s team work.” * Oddly enough, Ginny resisted the idea of teamwork when it involved her broom modifications. Once she had listened to all the suggestions from Bill Bea and Charlie and Dad, she worked alone in the shed, figuring things out in her own way. She bought a cheap toy broom and tried every charm on it first. She studied her Formula One and Harry’s Firebolt. Then she spent a lot of time casting a complicated sequence of Flying Charms on to her Hold-On. After the sequence was in place, she spent even more time tweaking and tinkering with the magic so that the charms would work together smoothly. Finally, one overcast evening in March, she thought she had the right combination. The only problem was that since the sequence was so long, she only had two inches left on the handle for brakes. She chewed her lip and stared at the colored strands of exposed magic lighting up the dusty shed. The Augery report had said that it was going to rain for the next few days, so she really should fly it tonight. It would be dangerous, but if she could fly the broom without Braking Charms interfering, then she’d know just how efficient this new sequence was. As much as she wanted to do everything on her own to prepare for the Strait Race, she knew she would have to ask Harry if he would fly by her side whilst she tested those Flying Charms. But the problem was that, ever since he had started this Search and Rescue course, he was annoyingly safety conscious. He wouldn’t be happy she was flying without brakes. She picked up the broom and held it at her side. Maybe he wouldn’t notice, she thought hopefully. * “Ginny, that broom doesn’t have brakes!” It was the first thing out of his mouth and he looked at her as if she had gone mad. So much for Harry not noticing. She shouldn’t have left the magic exposed, but it was easier to change things when the sequences were visible. “That’s why you’re coming along,” she answered brightly. “It’s a good chance for me to test these Flying Charms without interference from the Braking Charms.” “Ginny –” “Would you rather I tried it out when you’re not home?” She lifted her chin. “Because I will, you know.” He did know, because his eyes blazed and he gave in with ill grace. “Fine. Just don’t do anything stupid. Fly a straight course south along the mountains –” “We’re going to hit thermals,” she pointed out. “Where then?” “Through the pass to Westland and then back again. I’ll need your help when I want to land.” Harry huffed and almost said something else, but in the end he shrugged and bit out, “Fine.” The mountains rose on either side of them as Ginny skimmed through Westland Pass – a narrow east to west opening between the mountains that the Muggles didn’t know about. The pass wouldn’t have done the Muggles a lot of good anyway since it wasn’t wide enough for even a metal road and there was an Apparition Trap at the Westland end of it – but it was a good place to train for the Strait Race since the wind direction was the same. They flew with a cold breeze in their faces, so they didn’t speak. Harry’s Firebolt easily kept up with her Hold-On, but Ginny didn’t mind. It was the fastest she had ever gone on this broom and she hadn’t worked through the whole sequence yet. Once they were in sight of the Westland Trap, Ginny pulled up on the broom to slow it down, and then she made a gentle turn. Harry, seemingly to make the point that he had brakes, waited until the last minute, before he skidded to a stop and flipped himself in the opposite direction. She laughed at his smug expression, tossed her hair and then leaned forward. She was going to see what her broom could do. The wind at her back pushed her along and the charms folded into one another smoothly. Tall trees, sheer cliff walls, and a thundering misty waterfall whizzed by as she picked up speed. To her great delight, her ute broom felt like a racing broom, and for the first time she thought that maybe she might have a chance in the Strait Race after all. That is, until the handle started vibrating. It was just a small motion at first. Ginny thought perhaps it was caused by the crosswinds when they left the mountain pass, but as she flew on toward Lake Wanaka and home, she realized the problem was more serious than she previously thought. When she pulled up to slow down, the handle started vibrating like mad. She was going to lose control if she didn’t do something. It was a desperate measure, but she would have to sever the charm sequence – there was too much magic for a broomstick this short. Unfortunately, she couldn’t let go of the handle to retrieve her wand or she would fall off. It was the last thing she wanted to do, but she was going to have to admit to Harry that she needed help. “Harry! I’m in trouble.” He was next to her in seconds. “Grab on to my broom,” he said. “Just let that one go.” “No!” she yelled. “It could smash into the ground. Just sever the charms.” “Are you mad? I can’t sever a charm sequence whilst flying. I could knock you right off your broom!” “Fine. I’ll do it.” She slung one leg over Harry’s Firebolt. He grabbed her around the waist to pull her in front of him, but she resisted swinging her other leg off of the Hold-on. “Watch where we’re going!” she said over her shoulder as she pulled out her wand. “Ginny, what the hell are you –” With a flash of orange, two of the Flying Charms dissolved. Her broom slowed down and the vibrating stopped. She started to move her leg off of Harry’s broom and back on to hers, but Harry held her tightly. “No way are you getting back on that broom,” he said in her ear. She squirmed, but he was too strong for her. “Harry –” “We’ll tow it home,” he said. She stopped struggling and let him cast one of his Search and Rescue Rope Charms. The broom was running out of magic, and Ginny could see now that she never would have made it home. Her face burned with the humiliation of it all. If she had been on her Formula One and something had gone wrong with it, that broom would have flown back to the shed on its own. She didn’t even know how to cast that sort of a Homing Charm. Who was she kidding? Her charm sequence was amateurish at best. Her Hold-On was dangling limply from Harry’s Firebolt by the time they landed in the back garden and she couldn’t bear to look at it – or at Harry, who was plainly angry with her. She could see it in the set of his shoulders and the way he jerkily put the brooms in the shed. Ginny didn’t have a chance to say anything because Oscar chose that moment to Apparate into the garden. “Harry, there’s a fire in the Southland – a dragon set it. I know you’re not on call, but we could use you to keep an eye on the Muggle firefighters while the rest of us herd the dragon away and start putting it out.” Harry nodded and glanced at Ginny. “All right?” Of course it wasn’t all right. She didn’t want him going off when there was anger between them. But she nodded anyway and held his gaze. Some of her regret and sadness must have shown on her face, because he suddenly kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll take the Red and White broom.” She gave a short, hollow laugh. “It’s working, at least.” He touched her ponytail. “You’ll make it go.” Then he strode to the shed and took out his Red and White utility broom. With a small pop he was gone. * Ginny was grateful for her mother’s clock that night. She watched Harry’s hand go from ‘traveling’ to ‘doing what I’m told’ and there it stayed. What was Harry thinking about whilst he kept a protective eye on the Muggle firefighters? Was he still angry with her for making daft decisions? She bristled at the unspoken accusation that she was reckless. She had asked him to fly along with her for safety’s sake. And even if Harry hadn’t been along, she probably could have landed safely if she had flown into the lake – the waterlogged twigs would have stopped her cold. Still, she thought uneasily, as that spurt of anger subsided, the one thing that bothered Harry more than her nagging about keeping the cottage tidy, was any situation where he thought something might happen to her. Lost in thought, Ginny went into the kitchen and began to put the clean dishes that had been air-drying on the counter away into the cupboard. It had been understandable for Harry to have those sorts of fears when a war was going on, but why now? She frowned and polished the kettle with a soft towel as the answer came to her. For days we didn’t know if you would live or die. He had brought up her Quidditch injury when she didn’t qualify for the course. That’s all he could think about at the time – not her disappointment in failing. But tonight he had managed to push away his own emotions long enough to acknowledge that she was frustrated and disappointed that her Flying Charms had failed. Her heart twisted painfully. Oh, Harry. At least he understood why she had fought him on the broom. She stared off into space. But did she really understand why he was so upset? The older she got, the more she realized that the past didn’t always go away – you carried it around in your heart and mind until it showed itself later in unexpected ways. Maybe that was the key here. When she had almost died in the Chamber of Secrets, she had heard him plead with her not to be dead. He had really said it. For years she didn’t know if that was a figment of her imagination or not – but he had confirmed it. When Harry had broken up with her after Dumbledore’s funeral, he had told her he couldn’t bear it if he was responsible for her death. He hadn’t worried about Ron. Or Hermione. Or himself. Just her. When she had woken up from her potion-induced coma and saw Harry looking over her, she couldn’t believe he had stayed by her side – she thought he had more important things to do. You’re the most important thing to me. Harry loved her – that’s why he was so protective of her. But why did she resent it so much at certain times? Then she froze as one realization after another scrolled through her mind. The life and death moments Harry had with her were her own fault. She had been stupid enough to write to Tom Riddle. She had let her attention wander on the Quidditch Pitch. She had despairingly wished her way into an Apparition Trap. Every time she was in danger, Harry relived his past and she relived her mistakes. No wonder they fought in these situations. She hung the kettle on its hook above the fireplace and then patted the cauldron goodnight. Now she understood – but what was she going to do with that knowledge? * Harry arrived home an hour later. “It started to rain,” he told her, kicking off his wet shoes. “So we could put out the fire quickly without the Muggles getting suspicious.” “That’s good,” she murmured, picking up his shoes and putting them near the fireplace to dry. “Do you want something to eat?” “No. I think I’ll take a shower. I smell like smoke.” “Leave your clothes on the floor,” she said. “I don’t want them mixed with the others in the hamper.” Harry smiled. “I can manage to leave my clothes on the floor.” She stuck her tongue out at him and he laughed. Harry, it seemed, was going to let the broom incident pass. * Once Harry was out of the shower and sitting up in bed reading a month-old copy of Quidditch Illustrated that had just arrived that morning, Ginny debated whether to bring up their earlier argument. Harry seemed content to let it go and normally she would, too, since she didn’t enjoy dissecting their relationship. But if she didn’t, it would come up again – that much she knew from being married for seven months. Still, she felt unaccountably nervous and exposed bringing it up – almost as nervous as the time she modeled her shoes for him. She slipped into bed next to him and looked over his arm at the article he was reading. It was about the Cannons losing by the most points ever in a single match. She snorted. George had been right. He glanced at her. “I know. Pathetic.” “Harry, we need to talk,” she blurted. From the way he stiffened, she knew she had started off all wrong, so she talked faster. “I’m really sorry about tonight and the broom. You were right. I couldn’t have flown that broom home after I severed the sequence.” “Ginny.” He closed the magazine. “It wasn’t just that. I didn’t think you should have gone up without brakes in the first place.” “But I need to go up without brakes,” she said hotly. “That’s why I asked you to come along. I’m not trying to kill myself.” His mouth tightened. “I’m not!” Hateful tears filled her eyes as she tried to make him understand. “Harry, don’t you understand how hard this is for me?” His expression softened. “I know, Flying Charms are tricky.” “No.” Her heart started beating rapidly. “It’s hard for me to ask you to help me sometimes.” His eyes widened. “Why?” Why? “I don’t know,” she began haltingly. “I suppose I still have this need to prove myself – without making mistakes and on my own.” He looked at her steadily and then covered her hand with his own. “Yeah, that’s a Weasley thing.” “No,” she said with a tremble in her voice. “The Weasley thing is wanting to prove yourself to everybody. The Ginny thing is wanting to prove myself to you.” There, she had said it. Her weak spot – the one she didn’t want him to know about. “Prove yourself to me?” He shifted closer and put his arms around her. “Why would you have to prove yourself to me?” “Because I’ve made so many mistakes that have caused you pain,” she said, burying her face in his shoulder. “Starting with Tom Riddle and ending with those Flying Charms tonight.” “Tom Riddle?” He tightened his arms around her. “You were eleven.” “You were twelve and I almost got you killed.” “Ginny, that’s ancient history. You don’t have to do anything about that now.” “I know that – but I don’t know that.” He sighed. “You know, Dumbledore once told me that he didn’t make mistakes very often, but when he did they were usually spectacular.” She sat quietly in the circle of his arms, not sure what he was getting at, but enjoying the loving tone in his voice and the novelty of Harry opening up to her. “You don’t make very many mistakes, Ginny –” She was just about to remind him that they had run out of clean socks again – but he was still talking. “And when you do, it’s usually because you’re pushing yourself beyond your limits.” “Harry, that’s a really nice way to look at things, but –” “You took that diary back to protect me, didn’t you?” he answered quietly. “You knew what it could do.” “But I also didn’t want you to know all my secrets,” she confessed. And maybe even now she still didn’t want him to know the fear in her deepest heart of hearts. It was cowardly, she realized, not to tell him. Especially since that fear might explain her part in these fights they had been having. “Sometimes I still feel like…” She paused, since she hardly dared think it, let alone say it. “Feel like what?” he prompted. “Harry, it’s not you. Okay? It’s me.” Now she was frightened to talk about it. “What? Ginny, you need to tell me so I can understand.” He was right – but would he understand? Oh, Harry, please understand, she thought. Then she took a deep breath. “I just don’t want you to turn on me –” “Turn on you?” “Like he did.” She heard him suck in a breath and she thought she had angered him. “I know you won’t. You’re good and he was evil and –” “Oh, hell.” He hugged her tightly, his voice throbbing with emotion. “I always forget what he did to you.” That almost made her laugh because she had been so angry with him the first time she realized he had forgotten all about her possession by Tom Riddle. “That was so wrong,” Harry continued, stroking her hair. “What happened to you.” “But it was my fault.” Her throat swelled and her tears started to fall. “My mistake.” “Shh.” He held her and said nonsensical things until she stopped crying. “I always thought you were okay afterward,” he told her then. “I mean – you were always so confident. You stepped right into playing Seeker when I couldn’t do it. And you had all those boyfriends…” “I had two boyfriends,” she said sharply. “You know what I mean,” he said with amusement in his voice. “Harry, I didn’t – I don’t – feel like that all the time. Just when I really mess up. Like tonight.” She took a deep breath. “Like when Voldemort died.” His hand stilled in her hair. “We still haven’t had our wands checked out.” “I must have caused something to happen,” she said woodenly. “Maybe that’s why I can’t remember – I don’t want to remember another mistake.” “If you made a mistake – it was a spectacular one,” Harry said. “And I’m glad you made it.” She pulled away so she could see his face. He was sincere. Then it hit her all over again – and this time with more force than ever. They had made it. The threat was gone. She had Harry and he had her. There was nothing to apologize for or regret or hide. Old habits – like resenting Fleur or taking the laundry off the line before dark or trying to be self-sufficient at all costs – were hard to break. But now she could see how this habit of thinking about mistakes was going to have to go. Otherwise she was never going to understand how much Harry loved her – spectacular mistakes and all. Without another word she put her head in the hollow of his shoulder and closed her eyes. “I’m so tired,” she said simply. He reached for his wand and flicked out the torches. “I know,” he answered. A few sleepy minutes later, he spoke again. “Ginny?” “Hmm?” “Make sure you write down the charm sequence you used tonight.” “It didn’t work.” “It would have with a longer broom.” “Yeah. Maybe.” It had been a spectacular mistake for a ute broom – but maybe not for a racing broom. She sighed contentedly and turned on her side. Then he shifted closer to her and cupped his body protectively around hers. She had learned a lot already from this mistake – and maybe someday she would find a way to use it.
|