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Author: St Margarets Story: A Time to Remember Rating: Teens Setting: Post-DH Status: Completed Reviews: 10 Words: 121,765
When Ginny woke up the next morning, her first thought was of Harry. In the clear light of day, she realized that perhaps she had been too abrupt in answering his Tweeter Scroll. As her fiancé, it was reasonable behavior for him to send her a scroll — especially if she had given him the Tweeter Twig in the first place. She groaned as she realized the extent of her mistake. Even though she had vowed at age eleven to never write in another diary again, she wished she had a diary or a scrapbook or something so she wouldn't be caught flat-footed at times like this. Ginny reached for her Tweeter Twig on the bedside table and began to compose a message to Harry. Sorry I was so abrupt. Glad you're OK— She frowned and deleted OK. —safely in Spain. Keep in touch. There. She could write that much and still feel completely honest. Keep in touch. She sounded like she had just sent an acquaintance from Hogwarts a Christmas card — not like something she would send to a fiancé. But what would she say in a scroll to Harry if she really were head-over-heels? Something sexy? Hey, green eyes. She cringed. Something sentimental? I'm counting the hours until I see you again? Ginny sighed. She had to stop speculating about the future and wondering about the past. It was wasted energy and she was hurting Harry in the process. For all of her confusion, she knew she didn't want to hurt Harry — the poor bloke had been through a lot in his life. * Later on that day, Ginny met Hermione at the Wilted Leaf Cafe during the busy lunch hour. The waiter placed them in a quiet corner at Hermione's request. After they ordered, Hermione kept her eyes on the crowd. "No Rita Skeeter." "She wouldn't be interested in me," Ginny said. "I'm not the famous one. Harry is." "Did you see the gossip section of the Daily Prophet today?" "No." "There's a photo of you and Harry having lunch," Hermione said, "with the caption, 'Power Couple Does Power Lunch'." Ginny stared at her. "How did they manage that? I never saw a photographer." "Camouflage Charms, Disillusionment Charms, long-range lens." Hermione shrugged. "Who knows? But that should tell you something about the interest the public has in your relationship." "I'm not going to do anything rash, Hermione." "I didn't say you were." Ginny sighed. "What did Ron tell you?" "Just that—" Hermione looked up as a waiter set down their plates of food. "Thank you." She smiled prettily and waited for him to leave. "He said that you were giving Harry a hard time last night." Ginny held her fork suspended in mid-air. "I'm giving Harry a hard time? I'm just trying to cope." "I know you are," Hermione said quickly. "Ron's concerned about Harry, that's all. He's not taking this very well." Ginny put her fork on the table and tried to keep her temper. "So Harry's been complaining about me?" Hermione gaped at her. "Harry would never say anything against you." Ginny snorted and picked up her fork again. It felt good to stab something — even if it was just a lettuce leaf. "The only reason Ron and I know that Harry is upset is that we know him," Hermione continued. "It's not like Harry talks about his problems." Ginny stared at her, feeling somewhat mollified that Harry didn't blab his affairs to Ron and Hermione, but she was still angry at the implication that Harry was the only one wronged. "Hermione, if you had every memory of Ron wiped out of your mind and you saw him again for the first time, what would you think?" Hermione regarded her for a moment. "I — um. I don't know." She frowned. "What would he be doing?" "Nothing much — just standing there." "If he was just standing there — say, in his Auror robes — I would probably think he was cute." Hermione blushed. "Anything else?" "I probably would want to talk to him — you know — find out what he was like." "And what if he already knew everything about you? How would that feel?" Hermione cocked her head. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I've just been seeing this from Harry's point of view. I can see how it's been difficult for you." "I don't want to hurt Harry's feelings," Ginny said. "I just don't know enough about him — or our situation — to avoid it." Hermione nodded and started to pick at her salad. "I can see that now. You didn't even know you had bought Harry that Tweeter Twig." "No. But I did send him a scroll this morning. I apologized." Ginny sighed. "I didn't get a message back. Does Harry sulk?" Hermione grimaced. "Um — well—" "I can't stand when people sulk. It's a very bad trait and—" "Ginny, everyone has faults. Yes, Harry's been known to sulk and get depressed — but he also has a tremendous capacity to forgive and to forget." Hermione buttered a bun and continued her enthusiastic defense of Harry. "He's been through a lot, and in another person it might have made them—" "So why didn't you fall in love with Harry instead of Ron?" Ginny asked. "Why didn't I fall in love with Harry?" Hermione stared at her dumbstruck. "Because — because—" Ginny nodded. "I didn't really expect you to answer." She couldn't keep the bitterness out of her voice. "I mean — Harry is okay for me, but not for you." "No, that's not it." Hermione put down her butter knife. "I'm not trying to push you into anything, Ginny." She frowned at her. "But frankly, this whole scenario is surreal. You're pushing so hard not to like Harry and I don't understand it." Her eyes narrowed. "What are you afraid of?" "What am I afraid of?" Ginny tossed back her hair. Her heart started beating faster. She was afraid. "I—" "Ginny?" Hermione asked softly. "What is it?" Hermione did know about Tom Riddle. She was one of the few people Ginny had ever confided in. Ginny cleared her throat and said in a low voice, "The last time I couldn't remember things — big chunks of things — was when I was possessed." Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh, Ginny—" "I know what you're going to say — this isn't anything like that. But it feels like it. Like I'm spinning out of control and I'm going to do something really wrong — and I don't want to feel like that." "Ginny—" "Tom Riddle had green eyes and dark hair—" She shouldn't be talking about this, but Ginny couldn't seem to stem the tide of words. "—and I thought I was in love with him because he was so nice to me in the diary. But he wasn't. He was ev—" "Ginny." Hermione spoke so firmly that Ginny abruptly closed her mouth. "Harry is the very antithesis of Tom Riddle." Her eyes flashed with emotion. "Harry's biography left out a lot — but I would think that, even from reading that narrative, you would see what a truly good and brave person he is." "I'm not saying that he isn't brave or a hero. But heroics don't necessarily apply to relationships. I wasn't mentioned in his biography." Hermione held up her hand. "Harry loves you and would do anything for you, Ginny. Anything. He already has, but you don't remember it." Ginny felt angry heat rise in her face. "Are you going to tell me what that was? Or do I have to stumble around in the dark until I do something to stomp on Harry's feelings again?" At that moment, the waiter returned and, with an air of trepidation, asked if he could get them anything else. "No!" They both answered together. The waiter visibly recoiled and fled without speaking. It was one of those ridiculous moments and it broke the tension. "Sor—" "Gin—" They spoke over each other again, which made them laugh. "You first," Ginny said. "You're not wrong to think about Tom Riddle," Hermione said gently. "And maybe if you continue to think about it, you'll come up against another memory of Harry." Ginny rubbed her forehead and recognized yet another blank in her memory. Harry knew. He knew about her greatest shame and she didn't know he knew. That made it worse. "Was he there?" she asked in a small voice. "In the Chamber? I remember passing out and then…" "I don't know the details," Hermione said. "Why don't you ask Harry? He's never talked to me about it, but Ron told me everything and—" "And why would I want to relive that memory?" Ginny asked bitterly. "I wish I could forget all of it — instead of just half of it." "Ginny—" Hermione said helplessly. "What?" She didn't want to cry in front of Hermione and in a public place. But it all seemed so hopeless. "I think Ron is right. I think you should just relax and get to know each other and not worry about the past." "Relax?" "Yes. You know — just have fun with Harry and be yourself." Be yourself. Ginny stared at Hermione. "You said that to me before. Didn't you?" The now-familiar ache of a memory returning spread across her forehead. "You said that to me my third year. When you were going to the Yule Ball with Viktor Krum and Harry—" She gasped. "I fancied Harry, didn't I? And he didn't know I existed." "He knew you existed. He was just — you know — a boy, and he didn't have a clue." "I remember now. I thought I fancied him and Harry fancied… someone else. And you told me to go to the ball with Neville because Harry was never going to ask me." The painful embarrassment of that moment washed over her again. "That was a long time ago," Hermione said briskly. "I know." Even to her own ears, her voice sounded hollow. "But it's so weird. Whenever I get a memory back I get the feeling, too." "I'm sorry, Ginny." Hermione patted her hand. "Everyone says that your school years are the best in your life, but I wouldn't go back for anything." Ginny nodded and then squared her shoulders. "You're right, Hermione." She pushed down that feeling of embarrassment. "I might have to remember the past, but I don't have to stay in the past." Hermione smiled in relief. "That's the spirit." She looked at her watch. "I've got to go. I have a meeting at one o'clock." "I'll take care of the bill." "Ginny, no. I invited you out to lunch." "It's my thanks for good advice." Ginny smiled ruefully. "Too bad you had to give it to me twice for the same person." Hermione laughed. "You and Harry are going to be just fine." "I hope so." Hermione stood up and then paused, her handbag slung across her shoulder. "Ginny, you asked me why I didn't fall in love with Harry." "Yes." Ginny braced herself. Hermione sounded so serious. "I don't know why," Hermione said quickly, "but I want you to know that it was always Ron for me — even when I wanted to kill him. You bringing up the Yule Ball..." She shook her head. "…it brought back a lot of memories for me, too." "Not bad ones, I hope." "No." She smiled. "Although, I think Ron and I are due for a good argument." "A good argument?" Ginny couldn't imagine it. Hermione smiled mysteriously. "Harry never understood that, either." Ginny breathed a sigh of relief. At least she had that in common with Harry. * Ginny wandered around Diagon Alley after she paid the bill for lunch. If she was going to return to the present and forget the painfully embarrassing emotions of the past, then a little retail therapy was in order. Ginny spent a good half hour in Quality Quidditch Supplies picking out new gloves for herself. Then she decided to check out the WWN Emporium, a shop that carried all the merchandise advertised on the Wizarding Wireless Network. It was still early in the season, but there seemed to be a lot of new products out for the gullible Christmas shopper. Bemused, Ginny tried to work out why anyone would wear a sack with sleeves to lounge around in. She couldn't imagine Mum getting in and out of such a thing when it came time to listen to her favorite wireless programs. Mum certainly didn't need the Spongewow for kitchen spills, but Ginny wondered if she'd like the On-the-Go Organizer Bag that had pockets for everything — even your portable cauldron and Tweeter Twig. In the end, Ginny bought Mum the On-the-Go handbag and on impulse, added two Wishing Wands for Teddy. Teddy loved waving a wand that did real magic. Even though it was a pre-charmed novelty wand, it did do a good job of conjuring the image of a wish. She finished her shopping spree by stopping in see George at the joke shop. He was in the pink witches' corner of the store, stacking bottles on a shelf. "Ginny!" He greeted her with a smile. "Need a wee dram to get that mojo back?" He waved a bottle of love potion in her face. "No." Ginny scowled at him. "And now that I think about it, I don't know why I bothered to come in here—" "To gossip about Percy?" She stopped in mid-tirade. Thankfully someone wanted to talk about something else. "You heard." "This morning. He stopped in before he went to work." "Mum and Dad seemed okay with it." Ginny shrugged. "Percy seems happy." "You don't think this Audrey person has been using something like this?" George pointed to the bottles of love potion now neatly lined up on the shelf. "He's completely barmy, if you ask me." Ginny snorted. "I don't think so. He was like that with Penelope — mooning around. Remember? He was always in his room—" "We just thought he was polishing his prefect's badge," George said with a grin. "We didn't know it was love." Ginny rolled her eyes. "Funny, George." "That's my job — the tasteless and the titillating." With a sweep of his arm, he indicated a corner of his shop that had been decorated with posters of cats. "Behold the Kneazle Nook." "Kneazle Nook?" "The newest craze. Pictures of Kneazles with 'funny'—" George made quotation marks with his fingers. "—sayings." Ginny looked at a photo of a black Kneazle putting its chin on its paws. "'I haz a sad'?" She looked at George in bewilderment. "Is that supposed to be the Kneazle talking?" "If Kneazles talked, they wouldn't use proper grammar, apparently." "It's a cute poster." Ginny smiled at the sad kitty that kept lifting his head and then resting it on his paws. "I can see why these would be popular." "They're all the rage at Hogwarts, and some of the girls are getting miniature prints to stick on to their Tweeter Scrolls." "Oh, really? Like you personalize them or something?" "I don't know how personal they are, since everyone has the same photos of the same Kneazles—" "You should have some new photos taken. That Squib —Mrs. Figg — doesn't she have a lot of Kneazles?" George rubbed the side of his head where his ear used to be. "She does. But the problem is finding a photographer to do it. Kneazles hate to have their pictures taken. They're very skittish and they'll attack if a flash goes off." "I know the perfect photographer," Ginny said, thinking of Clive Klacker. "The Harpies suspended his contract, so he's probably looking for work. And he deserves to have his face scratched off." "Right, the pervy bloke." George smiled. "I like the sound of this. Revenge, and I increase my profit margin." "Don't you mean your profit margin first and then revenge?" Ginny raised her eyebrows. "Eh. I would pay a few Galleons to get back at that idiot who messed with you and Harry." George was serious and it troubled Ginny. Even George cared if she was with Harry or not. What if she didn't fall in love with Harry again? Would everyone be against her? "It wasn't entirely the photographers fault — although he was a creep. It was the mesmerist, too. And — uh — me." She blushed. "We were supposed to be managing our distractions." "And Harry was your distraction." George nodded. "I can see that. Still, I want revenge for Harry's sake." "What about my sake?" George waved off her outrage. "You'll have the fun of falling for Harry all over again. He's the one who's going to be polishing his prefect's badge until there's nothing left but—" "Wait? Harry was a prefect?" George snorted. "No." "But you just said—" She blushed. "Oh!" Then she smacked George on the arm. "There's more to a relationship than that." He smirked at her. "Glad to hear you say it. Mum would be proud." "Shut up, George." A customer entered the store. George shrugged. "This is probably a conversation we don't want to continue, anyway." He turned and greeted the wizard. "Too right." Ginny said to George's back. Then she happened to glance at yet another Kneazle poster. It was of a ginger Kneazle trying to ride a broom. The photographer had managed to catch the mid-air turn of Kneazle as it was falling. Epic Fail, the caption said. She shook her head. She had been feeling just like that Kneazle since Monday. * Harry decided that a beach was an uncomfortable place to wait. It was hot in the mid-day sun and the glare from the water gave him a headache. A topless beach was an even more uncomfortable place to wait. While he enjoyed looking at the female form as much as any other bloke, he hadn't mastered the ability to casually look at a half-naked woman without seeing — or leering — at her breasts. He might as well be thirteen years old again, blushing at a glimpse of cleavage and trying to keep his eyes pinned above a certain level. If he tried that here, however, he would only see the distant horizon where the calm sea met the cloudless afternoon — and he would probably trip right over one of the many sunbathers. It also didn't help that he was missing Ginny and the sad realization that he was going to continue to miss Ginny for a long, long while. He would be lucky to get a handshake or a peck on the cheek at their next meeting. If there was a next meeting. Ginny hadn't been happy with his Tweeter Scroll and he wasn't sure what he should do next. Wait for her to make the next move was the only logical thing to do. Waiting. He was getting loads of practice. He reached down from his conjured deck chair and picked up the newspaper for the tenth time that afternoon. Then he smirked at himself. He still couldn't read Spanish and Carlos Batanya's smiling face still graced the front page of the sports section. The big news of that day was that Spain's star player was apparently going to play Seeker for the Kestrels this season. And that was just what he needed — Carlos Batanya in England for an entire season. Batanya had flirted with Ginny when they played Exhibition Quidditch this summer. At the time Ginny was engaged and didn't flirt back. But what would Ginny do now that she had forgotten him? Harry threw the paper down just as a nubile young woman turned over and started to rub tanning oil all over her chest. Short of blinding himself, there was nothing else he could do but take off his glasses and casually polish them on his Auror robes. As he grimly wiped the lenses clean, he tried to decide which uncomfortable feeling was worse — jealousy or lust? Lust or jealousy? "I still don't see any Merpeople," Ron groaned. Maybe impatience was the worst feeling. Harry sighed and put his glasses back on. Ron shaded his eyes and scanned the edge of the beach. "Unless we can't see them because they're behind one of those Streelers." Two giant snails were slowly making their way along the water's edge. Their iridescent shells pulsated with swirls of pink and purple and sometimes red. Every now and then, their antennae twitched, but they seemed magnificently indifferent to the children playing around them and to the shirtless wizard who was trailing behind them with a notebook in one hand and a quizzing glass in the other, examining the deep ridges they left behind in the sand. "What was the new time they told us?" Harry asked. It had changed as often as the tides. "Three o'clock," Ron said, looking impatiently at his watch. "They're ten minutes late." "What's ten minutes after ten hours?" "True." Ron sighed and then straightened up. "Is that Luna?" It was Luna, dressed — thankfully — in bright yellow robes. Harry could tell it was Luna because she had a wand stuck behind her ear and there was a stack of books levitating just above her right shoulder. Harry stood up. "Let's see what she's up to with all of those books." "It will be daft, whatever it is." As they drew nearer to Luna and the Streelers, Harry could see that she was addressing the wizard with the notebook and the quizzing glass. The wizard slowly straightened and then turned to face Luna. Over the gentle roar of the ocean, Harry couldn't tell what they were saying, but from their gestures, they seemed to be introducing themselves. The wizard stuck his notebook and quizzing glass in his trouser pockets and touched the brim of his hat with his fingers. Luna crossed her arms in front of herself and stared at him. "Oi, Luna!" Ron called. Luna tore her eyes away from the shirtless wizard and looked at Ron. Harry wasn't sure if her blank expression was because she failed to recognize Ron or because she was dazzled by this wizard who had more muscles than he and Ron put together. "Rolf Scamander." The shirtless wizard introduced himself, with a nod at Harry and Ron. "I'd shake your hand, but I've been taking samples of Streeler guano and—" "That's what you've been doing?" Luna turned back to Rolf Scamander. "That's what field work is… analyzing droppings of noble creatures?" Rolf shrugged his beefy shoulders. "You can tell a lot by what's left behind." Luna took her wand from behind her ear and jabbed it at one of the books levitating over her shoulder. It sailed over her head to open in front of Rolf's nose, the pages flipping rapidly. "Eternity," she said. "The Golden Mean and the Nautilus Shell." "Ah, yes. I've heard that story." Rolf pushed the book out of his face. "What does that have to do with —?" "Everything," Luna said. "Um." Rolf tipped his hat back so he could see Luna better. "I don't follow." "It has to do with everything. The Golden Mean expresses what can't be expressed about nature." Rolf's lips moved as if he was repeating in his mind what Luna had just said. "I still don't follow, but this probably isn't the time or place." He glanced at Harry and Ron. "Perhaps you could introduce me to your friends and then you could start the interview?" Two spots of color formed on Luna's cheeks. Never breaking eye contact with Rolf Scamander, she waved her wand wildly. The book slammed shut and slid back into the stack hovering over her shoulder. "Harry Potter and Ron Weasley." Rolf tore his eyes away from Luna. "Thought that was you, Mr. Potter." He nodded at Ron. "Mr. Weasley. Waiting for the Merpeople, are you? Their concept of time is a bit different from a wizard's." "Too right," Ron said. "We're about baked out here." "If you're not used to the heat, it can be debilitating." He turned to Luna. "No hat? I think we'd best move indoors for this interview." "My lion hat wouldn't fit into my baggage." "Lion hat? Don't tell me you killed a lion for headgear." Luna's mouth dropped open. Harry had never seen her so flustered. Ron swatted Harry on the arm. "Oi. The Merpeople are here." Sure enough, there were several heads bobbing in the gentle surf. One of the Merpeople raised a trident. That was their signal. Harry hastily stuffed the Gillyweed from his pocket into his mouth. He hoped the entrance to Atlantis wasn't over an hour's swim away or he would be in trouble. And he really hoped the water was cold. * Ginny went to her bedroom and checked her Tweeter Twig as soon as she arrived home from Diagon Alley. Still no scroll from Harry. But that was to be expected. He would be busy doing whatever he was doing, Ginny reasoned. Hopefully, he and Ron weren't in danger. Or maybe Harry had given up on her already. Instead of feeling relieved at that last thought, Ginny felt her stomach twist. She looked out the window of her bedroom. She could see the tile roof of the broom shed, the grassy hill, and the orchard now heavy with ripe fruit. It was a familiar scene and the feeling of hopeless longing was familiar, as well. Ginny rubbed her forehead. How many times had she looked through this window wondering and worrying? A memory was coming back. The Ministry had fallen. Ron had gone — the ghoul slept in his bed. And Harry? Now she remembered what Harry had to do with this view. The words 'I'm not his girlfriend anymore' echoed in her mind. She had spent a lot of energy trying not to think about him — even back when she was in school. Ginny placed her forehead against the cool glass. Had her relationship with Harry always been that painful? Why were all the bad memories coming back to haunt her first? Or were there good ones, too? Just be yourself and have fun, Hermione had advised. Ginny sighed. It was pointless to be yourself when no one was around to see you do it. Her Tweeter Twig vibrated and then a scroll curled out of the end. Ginny pounced on the scroll and then tamped down her disappointment when she read it. It was from Luna. Rolf Scamander is as I thought. He cares more about guano than the Golden Mean. Ginny frowned. Golden Mean? Hadn't she learned something about that in Arithmancy? Golden Mean? she wrote back. It doesn't matter. Rolf doesn't care. I saw Harry and Ron. Harry and Ron? Where? What were they doing? They went swimming. Swimming? I didn't talk to them very much because I was angry with Rolf. Did you conduct the interview? Yes. But he wants to see me tomorrow. He wants to see you? Like going out? Rolf said it wasn't fair that he didn't get to ask me questions. You don't have to go, Luna. I don't mind questions — but he won't like my answers. Is he as dishy as his photo? There was a long pause. Ginny wondered if something had gone wrong with Luna's Tweeter Twig. Luna? I was thinking. Yes and no. Ginny had forgotten what she had asked and was sorting through the scrolls to try to replicate their conversation when Luna sent another scroll. You didn't like my answer? Rolf won't like my answers. No, Luna. I liked your answer. It's honest. If this Rolf fellow doesn't like the truth, then too bad. You're right Ginny. Good-bye. Ginny sighed. Luna had finished talking to her. She missed being around Cathy and Regan and her other teammates. There was always someone to talk to. She could go down and chat with Mum and Dad but The Magic of Muggles, Dad's favorite show, was on the wireless and Dad didn't like to miss it. Ginny absently began to unpack her purchases from her shopping spree. If she wrapped Mum's gift now, she could leave it at the bottom of her cupboard for Mum to find on her birthday. Ginny wouldn't be home for the party, of course. That was the big drawback to playing professional Quidditch. She missed everything. She was hunting around for a ribbon to tie on Mum's gift when she saw a scroll uncurl from her Tweeter Twig. Maybe Harry…? She marveled at her eagerness to hear from him. It was very odd behavior for her and she wondered if she had always acted like this around Harry. She must have been insufferable. It was from Harry. H1 G1nny. ! just saw your $croll. $0rry it took me so long to answer. Ron & I are fine. Another scroll came out of the Twig. Our assignment is to guard the goblin princess. The goblins have a princess? Is she horrible? She is human. Not a goblin. The goblin princess isn't a goblin? How does that work? She's a foundling. Where did they find her? In China. A dragon raised her from a baby. Charlie would love her. I don't think so. Why? She's a bit bossy. Ginny didn't know what to say to that. It was true that Charlie wouldn't appreciate a bossy woman — but did that mean Harry wouldn't appreciate a bossy woman, either? She frowned. Hermione was Harry's friend. She finally decided to avoid the topic all together. When are you coming back to England? When Princess Jade is tired of Spain. Why can't Spanish Aurors guard her? Because she specifically asked for me. How did she know about you if she's been in China all this time? As soon as Ginny sent it, she knew it was a stupid thing to say. Of course everyone in the magical world knew about Harry. Dunno. He was obviously embarrassed by the question, so Ginny changed the subject. So what do you have to do in Spain? Tonight we're going to a disco and tomorrow we're going to the Alhambra. A disco? Do you like to dance? This is guard duty. No dancing. Ginny frowned and wondered why he didn't answer the question. You didn't answer my question. I don't like dancing, usually. Usually? You don't remember. No, I don't remember. Harry, don't be so cryptic. It's difficult not to be cryptic in a Tweeter Scroll. Tell me what I should remember. I liked dancing with you at Grimmauld Place. Her breath caught. There was something disarming about that simple statement. I liked dancing with you. When was this? she wrote. The summer after you left Hogwarts. You had new black robes. Black robes? She never wore black — it made her look washed out. I wore black robes? You did. Ginny went to her cupboard and riffled through the hanging clothes until she came to a dressmaker's bag with the name Lady DuSult's Little Black Robes. She unzipped the bag and pulled out a slinky black knit dress with a plunging neckline. Ginny stared at it in amazement. She had worn that — for Harry? Mum must not have seen it. I just found the dress in my cupboard. Do you remember anything? No — and I can't believe I had the nerve to wear it or that Mum let me out of the house with that on. I don't think your mum ever saw it. Ginny frowned. She had obviously been sneaking around and she had gone to Harry's house wearing those robes. Ginny guessed that Ron hadn't been there — or anyone else. She and Harry had danced alone together. Her heart started beating faster. It sounded romantic. Did Harry initiate that little scenario or had she? Ginny? Sorry. Thinking. Maybe if I tried on the robes I might remember? Dunno. Hang on. I'm going to try them on. Ginny quickly threw off the robes she had worn shopping and tossed them on the bed. Then she unhooked the black dress from the hanger and placed it over her head. The fabric was soft and skimmed over her skin as easily as a breath of warm air. The dress fit perfectly. The sleeves were the right length, the skirt swished around her calves as she twirled. Everything about the dress felt expensive and luxurious and sensual. Why couldn't she remember this dress? It made her feel sexy and grownup and ready to dance… There was a scroll sticking out of her Tweeter Twig. Ginny? I have to go in five minutes. Are you still there? I tried on the robes, but I still don't remember. There was no reply. Harry must have gone to the disco with Ron and the goblin princess. She could picture him standing in the shadows of a crowded nightspot, his eyes constantly moving. Somehow, she thought that Harry would take his duties to protect the princess with utmost seriousness. He wouldn't be thinking about her — sitting alone in her bedroom in gorgeous, slinky black robes. Ginny stood up and peeped out into the corridor. She could hear a voice from the wireless talking about something called 'mobile phones' and Dad excitedly telling Mum he had seen a Muggle using one the last time they were in King's Cross. "Mobile phone," he repeated. The coast was clear. Ginny darted into the bathroom. She wanted to see what she looked like in those robes. At first she was disappointed, since all she saw was her flushed, freckled face and mussed up hair. Then the mirror changed focus and she could see her reflection from head to toe. "Is that me?" It was a stupid thing to ask — even the mirror thought so. "Who else would it be?" "I just never thought of myself like this." "Seeing is believing." Why couldn't she remember this feeling of being grownup and sexy and ready to flirt? Three years ago, she had been confident enough in herself to go and buy these robes, but now she didn't feel that way. Then a realization struck that made her gasp. If Harry had been her only boyfriend since Hogwarts, then her knowledge of sex and relationships stopped at age fifteen. The last romantic kiss she remembered was with Dean. And those were the kind of kisses that chapped your lips and caused embarrassing marks on your neck. By having her memories of Harry wiped out, everything she might have learned about men or sex was gone. It should be no surprise that she felt so wary and out of her depth. Harry was a man. And she still felt fifteen — at least as far as remembered experience. No wonder she had an almost visceral aversion to getting married. Schoolgirls don't want to get married. She turned and looked over her shoulder at her reflection. She didn't look fifteen — not in this dress anyway. And Harry certainly didn't think of her that way. I liked dancing with you. She swallowed. What was Harry expecting from her now? Would he be willing to go through the slow progression of getting to know each other and then kisses and then moving on to touching and then…? She squeezed her eyes shut. Harry was twenty-two years old, a healthy red-blooded male who was used to… what? A certain level of intimacy. Ginny swallowed again as a new thought struck her. She was probably not a virgin — but right now she felt nothing but panic at the thought of finding out if that assumption was true. Her heart sank. So far, Harry had been a perfect gentleman and, from everything she had learned about him, he would probably continue to be the perfect gentleman — even if it killed him. She thought back to George's words this morning. Sex did matter to wizards. Just have fun and be yourself. It was good advice, but not if having fun involved taking off your clothes in front of a stranger. Her heart started beating rapidly as she thought of admitting to Harry that she didn't have a clue what she was supposed to be like in bed. She frowned at her reflection. He should have realized that by now — especially after their Tweeter Scroll conversation. She groaned. Harry would understand — wouldn't he? She lifted her chin. She was not going to be a coward about this. Obviously, Harry had been good for her. She liked this version of Ginny she saw in the mirror — and she wanted to feel like that again. It was time to start cooperating with Harry rather than fighting him. Then her resolved crumpled. Unfortunately, she couldn't fight or cooperate with someone who wasn't there.
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