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Author: St Margarets Story: A Time to Remember Rating: Teens Setting: Post-DH Status: Completed Reviews: 7 Words: 121,765
Ginny sat at the breakfast table in the dining hall of The Heap and stared at the back page of the newspaper Regan was reading. "Carlos Batanya is joining the Kestrels?" she asked. "I thought he was team captain for Real Toledo?" "He got a transfer," Regan said, turning the newspaper over so she could look at the photo. "He said he liked England so much when he came here to play in the Exhibition Games that he put out feelers to join a team." "He put out feelers all right," Ginny said. "I made sure I never sat next to him at dinner." Cathy laughed. "I forgot. You were on the All-Euro team with him. Is he a good Seeker?" Ginny shrugged. "He wouldn't have been picked for the All-Euro team if he wasn't above average. But he's not God's gift to Quidditch — or witches — like he thinks he is. And I don't see why he's coming here. He could barely speak English." "Maybe he fell in love this summer and he's moving here to be closer to her," said Regan, who was a romantic. "Maybe he's avoiding some kind of scandal in Spain," said Cathy, who wasn't romantic. "I just hope he leaves me alone." Ginny shuddered. "Uh. He was so obnoxious. He kept asking me if I was a natural redhead everywhere." "Yuck!" "Were you engaged to Harry then?" Cathy asked. "I don't—" Ginny frowned. "Mum said Harry gave me the ring for my birthday, so yes, I suppose we were engaged." Regan snorted. "So Batanya was flirting with Harry Potter's fiancée. He's stupid, too." "I don't think Harry's the jealous type," Ginny said. "Trust me, all men are the jealous type," Regan said. Ginny twisted the ring on her finger and fought the urge to take it off. She did not want to be someone's — anyone's — territory to protect or possession to be shown off. "I still don't get why a bloke would flirt with someone who is engaged," Cathy said. "Because of the extra challenge level, I suppose." Regan shrugged and picked up the next section of the newspaper. "This is one of those moments I'm glad I'm on an all-witches team," Cathy declared. Ginny smiled and looked around the dining hall. Dusty championship banners, in shades of green, hung from the ceiling. Tarnished silver bowls, platters and statuettes cluttered the trophy wall. This place had been her home for almost three years. If she got married to Harry — or to anyone, for that matter — she wouldn't be able to play for this team anymore. Professional Quidditch did have its downsides, but she loved the game and she loved this team. She squared her shoulders. There was no way she was getting married anytime soon. "Oh, Ginny. Your man has made the gossip pages again." "Harry?" She took the paper from Regan. She read the breathless headline first. Potter's Princess? Then she looked at the picture. Harry, in his Auror robes, was looking down into the adoring face of a dark-haired witch. Harry wasn't smiling in the picture. He wasn't touching the witch, but he was looking at her. Ginny's stomach turned — not because of anything Harry was doing in the photo, but because the witch looked like a smaller, more fragile version of Cho Chang. Cho Chang. The name was acid in Ginny's stomach. Cho Chang was the stuck-up Ravenclaw Seeker who flirted with the opposing team's players from her broom. Michael had thought she was wonderful and was angry when Ginny caught the Snitch right under Cho's nose to win the cup. But the jealous hatred she was feeling right now had nothing to do with Michael and Cho. Her mind was flooded with bitter images. Harry smiling at Cho. Harry walking with her to Hogsmeade. Harry looking at Cho with longing and confusion. Cho batting her eyelashes at Harry. "Ginny?" Cathy asked. "You okay? You look a little green." "What?" Ginny focused on Cathy's face. "Oh! I was just thinking." "Don't worry about her, Ginny. You know how the newspapers like to create drama. They had you and Carlos Batanya going out because he hugged you after a match." "Don't remind me." Ginny folded the paper and tossed it on the table. "Uh. Why do I read this stuff?" Regan shrugged. "It's fine when it's someone else's drama." Ginny managed to put the drama from her past into the back of her mind during practice. Her leg muscles were screaming for mercy by the end of the morning session and her arms felt the same way by dinnertime. A few days away had taken its toll, but Ginny was experienced enough to know that if she didn't push too hard the first day, she would be back into shape by the time the first match rolled around. She was looking forward to the drills with the Bludgers, but she wasn't allowed to be around them for a few more days. Once all the practices were over for the day and she had eaten dinner and bathed, she didn't have much energy left. The rest of the team was listening to the wireless in the lounge, but she felt like being alone. Ginny sat on her bed and leafed through an old copy of Quidditch News without really seeing it. She hadn't heard from Harry, but she didn't know what that meant, since she wasn't sure what kind of a correspondent he had been in the past. She was hoping that Luna or Hermione or even Ron would send her a Tweeter Scroll to break up her evening. As if her Tweeter Twig had read her mind, a scroll uncurled from its end. It was from Hermione. Don't mind the paper today, Ginny. Ron says the princess is a pain. Ginny responded immediately. She looks like Cho Chang. A little. Ginny smirked. Hermione was trying not to let any Kneazles out of the bag. Harry went out with her. You remembered Harry and Cho Chang? I did. She wasn't good for him. Cho Chang was a long time ago. We were kids. It feels like it just happened. Poor Ginny. I hope Harry can see you soon. You'll feel better when you see him. I wonder how many more painful memories I have. Ginny — forget the past. Just try to have fun. Ginny sighed when she read this last bit of sensible advice from Hermione. I will. You're right. I've got to go. Ron just sent a scroll. Ginny sat with Tweeter Twig in hand and thought about Hermione's reminder to have fun. This jealousy of Cho Chang was silly and immature, understandable only in a schoolgirl. She was a woman who had once had been confident enough to wear those black dress robes and she owed it to herself to get that confidence back. She chewed her lip. In an attempt to get her confidence back, would she be able to flirt and look adoringly at Harry like that princess had done? Most blokes seemed to like that kind of simpering behavior. She sighed. Probably not. Faking it had never been one of her strong points. Her emotions had always showed on her face, no matter how hard she tried to appear sophisticated. Harry must know that about her. She frowned. Harry hadn't known how fake Cho Chang was until he went out with her — but like Hermione said, it was a long time ago. As she was raising her wand to flick out the torch, another scroll came out of her Tweeter Twig. She felt a frisson of anticipation. It was from Harry. I'm back from guard duty. How's everything at the Heap? Ginny started to write a reply and then hesitated. She might as well tell Harry what was on her mind. I saw your photo with the princess. Ginny, don't believe the spin. They just want to sell papers. Ginny bit her lip. Harry sounded defensive, but she shouldn't read too much into it. Tweeter Scrolls didn't allow for a lot of nuance. I don't, but the princess reminded me of Cho Chang. Cho? What do you remember about her? Ginny cringed. He called her by her first name. Was that a sign of affection? She tried to play it cool in her response. I remember you went out with her. That was a long time ago. That's what Hermione said. Carlos Batanya is going to play in England now. It almost sounded like Harry might be a little jealous. Oddly, that didn't make her feel trapped at all; it made her feel better about her own jealousy. I heard. Ginny smirked as she tapped out her solution. We should introduce him to the princess. Brilliant. That would solve all of our problems. Ginny smiled. At least Harry had a sense of humor. Have you seen Luna? I saw her at the disco with Rolf Scamander. Really? Luna hates to dance. They weren't dancing. They were watching everyone. Watching? Yeah, like we used to observe the animals in Care of Magical Creatures. That does sound like Luna. Did she look happy? How do you tell with Luna? Ginny smiled. You can tell. She didn't look unhappy, but then, I wasn't there the whole night. Ginny frowned. Where were you? Romantic walk on the beach with Ron — behind the princess and a bloke she picked up. Sounds fun. It wasn't. Neither were the six sets of Delta Drills I did this morning. Now I won't feel sorry for myself when we tour the goblin sword-works in Toledo. Auror work always sounded boring to Ginny. When are you bringing the princess to England to meet Carlos Batanya? Soon, I hope. Got to go. The princess's pot-bellied dragon just got loose. Ginny stared at the last scroll. Pot-bellied dragon? She had heard of them. It was a new breed of miniature dragons that fashionable witches carried around in their purses. Now she wondered what Harry thought of this princess. He hadn't said anything bad about her — except she had picked up a wizard at a dance club. Ginny went through her scrolls again. Harry hadn't really said he thought it was bad that the princess was snogging a strange wizard on the beach — just that he didn't like following her. Maybe he wasn't as judgmental about these things as she was. Another scroll was coming out of her Tweeter Twig. It was from Ron. Don't get angry with Harry about the princess. It's not like the newspaper says. I know Ron. I'm not stupid. Yeah, but she looks like Cho Chang. So? I KNOW you. Yes, I remembered to be jealous of Cho and Harry. Happy now? Don't talk to Carlos Batanya if you can help it. Harry hates him. Why? Because Batanya was all over you at the Exhibition Cup. I'm not going to talk to Carlos Batanya because I don't like him. Not because of Harry. It has to be because of Harry. You're engaged. I KNOW, Ron. Funny, I'm not the one in the papers with someone else. It's not Harry's fault. I KNOW, Ron. We decided to introduce the princess to Carlos Batanya. You already talked to Harry? Yes, by Tweeter Scroll. At least you got him into the twenty-first century. What do you mean? Harry hated Tweeter Twigs — would never use one until now. So how did he keep in touch with me? Dunno. Ginny didn't know what to say to that. Had she forced a Tweeter Twig on Harry because that was one of their problems? Ginny? Got to go. Harry's yelling something about the pot-bellied dragon being cornered. * Harry shook his head at the narrow stone entryway that led to the underground goblin works in Toledo. This could be a problem. With a wave of his wand, he could see that the goblins had placed all kinds of security charms on the ancient stone walls lining the passageway. If they couldn't Disapparate out, then the princess couldn't visit. It was that simple. He didn't look forward to causing an incident, but at their briefing this morning, he and Ron had been told to watch out for disgruntled goblins that might wish harm on their human princess. The danger was greater here, since there was a lot of tension in this particular goblin works. Toledo had once been the center of goblin power, but the sword hadn't been an important magical weapon in centuries and the sword-maker's influence was long gone. The Spanish authorities feared that the human princess might become a convenient target for their resentment. Princess Jade interrupted Harry's worries with a pout. "This is going to be boring. If we were going to look at jewelry, it would be okay, but swords are all the same. And I think it's mean of you to not let me bring Goldie inside. She loves to be underground." For the hundredth time, Harry was struck by the fact that Princess Jade managed to whine in Gobbledygook, a language that did not have a lot of variations in tone. But then, she seemed to have had a lot of practice in the fine art of whinging. As if to punctuate the princess's point, the tiny dragon popped her head out of Princess Jade's bright orange handbag and sent a thin stream of blue flames toward Harry. He was so used to it by now that he slapped out the small fire on his sleeve without moving away. "We're going to have enough problems without chasing your dragon — especially if she sees all those Ashwinders at the bottom of the forge." "Goldie loves Ashwinders." The princess kissed the top of Goldie's scaly green head. "All dragons do." "It makes them crazy." He glanced at Goldie's darting purple eyes. "Crazier." "Harry?" Ron asked. "What's up? The Spanish Ministry Officials are getting restless. At least, I think they are. I don't understand Spanish." "We're waiting for the goblins," Harry said. At that moment, three goblins filed out of the entryway. While two of the goblins had dark hair and one was bald, all three had dark eyes and wore black berets and thick leather aprons. One of them was wearing a sword in the belt around his waist. They stared at Harry without smiling — not unusual in goblins, but still disconcerting. "The princess will descend with us." Harry put up his hand. "Not until I can determine if it's safe." "Safe?" one of the goblins sneered. "She is our princess — what possible harm could come to her?" "What's he saying?" Ron asked. "Just let me talk to him in Gobbledygook, Ron. I want to find out about the layout of the sword factory. We're not going in if there is just this entrance." Ron eyed the small opening. "Good point. I'll have to crouch down the whole way." "Come, princess." "Wait," Harry said. "Is there more than one entrance?" "There is not," the middle goblin answered this time. The goblin on his left put his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Then she can't tour your factory." Harry braced for a protest. To his surprise, the protest did not come from the goblins, but from the princess. "That is ridiculous. These are my subjects. Of course I'm not in danger. They have been patiently waiting for their princess." "The princess does not object," said one of the goblins. "Come," the middle one said with a glint in his dark eyes. "We shall show you just how sharp we make the blade of a Toledo sword." A shadow of a passing cloud darkened the small courtyard. The temperature seemed to drop although it was a warm afternoon. Harry didn't like the implied menace in the goblin's tone. He didn't like the claustrophobic feeling of the high stone walls and the narrow walkways. "Outside," he said loudly. "Bring the workers outside to meet their princess." "And interrupt our work schedule?" the bald goblin snarled. Princess Jade laughed and waved her hand carelessly. "What schedule? You probably haven't sold a sword in months. I've seen the balance sheet. There's no reason to keep this works open unless you branch out to other things." The middle goblin started to say something, but Harry didn't pay attention to him. The left goblin was drawing his sword. From that moment on, everything seemed to happen at once. Goldie scrambled out of Princess Jade's handbag. Harry drew his wand and leaped in front of the Princess Jade, who was screaming after her lost dragon. In an attempt to shelter the princess, Harry turned so that his back was to the goblins. It took mere seconds to Disapparate, but it still took seconds. Harry felt the sharp goblin steel blade slice through his robes and nick his left arm as he Side-Along Apparated the princess to safety. * "Potter Foils Assassination Attempt," Regan read the headline over Ginny's shoulder. "He's at again." "The article doesn't give very much information," Ginny said impatiently. "Really, the whole article can be summed up in the first sentence. The princess was unharmed and is in an undisclosed, safe location. The rest is speculation and fluff." She folded the newspaper and tossed it onto the table next to the toast rack. "It doesn't say how the Aurors are who were guarding her. "I wouldn't worry about it, Ginny," Cathy said. "If the papers had any hint that Harry was injured, it would be in the headline. They love that kind of thing." "Probably." Ginny wondered at the queasy feeling in her stomach. "Still, I haven't heard from Ron or Harry for two days." "Could be the undisclosed location," Cathy said. "Security magic can mess up communication magic, you know." "Everything messes up communication magic," Regan declared, picking up the discarded newspaper, "probably because so much of it is new." "That's true." Ginny felt a little better at this common sense view. Harry must be okay. And he wasn't deliberately avoiding her, either. She bit her lip. Even though their last Tweeter Scroll exchange had been about her jealousy of Cho Chang and the remarkable resemblance to the princess he had just saved. "So why are we worrying about a goblin princess?" Regan said, turning to the sports section. "It's the opening day of Quidditch." "Really?" Cathy mocked. "Do we have our first match today? I had no idea." Regan didn't rise to the bait. "Sad to say that we're not the team of interest on opening day — at least, not to the sports writers." "All the articles are about Carlos Batanya." Cathy nodded and grabbed another piece of toast from the rack. "You'd think they were covering soap stars from the wireless rather than Quidditch." "That will wear off after a few matches," Ginny said. "Batanya still has to prove himself on the pitch. The Snitch doesn't care if you're good-looking or not." "True," Cathy said. "I'm just glad we're not playing against the Kestrels today. It's going to be bad enough wearing the new uniforms." Maybe that's why Ginny's stomach was extra queasy this morning. Usually, she wasn't nervous about a match until she was walking out on the pitch. But in this case, she didn't relish wearing a leather corset and sheer blouse to play Quidditch. No matter how many Weather Charms were used, she was still going to feel underdressed and over-exposed. "Bah. I don't care," Regan said. "Our uniforms will be a five-minute wonder." She looked from Cathy to Ginny. "So let's use that five minutes to score some goals." "You're right, Regan," Ginny said. "If we're hanging out all over the place, we might as well use it as a diversion." Cathy laughed. "Don't let Matilda hear you. That's not the grand Harpies tradition." "Yeah, but winning is," Ginny said, lifting her chin. * "And in grand Harpies tradition, the team has won their first home match of the year in their new stadium!" The announcer's voice carried over the excited screams of the Harpies fans. Ginny grinned. It had been a high-scoring match on both sides, with lots of Bludger-defying flying action. Just the kind of show Harpies management wanted to see. She had also scored two hundred points — her personal best for any match. She rubbed her right arm as she directed her broom to the ground. She was going to be sore later. "Congratulations!" "You're on your way to the Chaser's Cup!" Ginny smiled at the various fans who had stayed behind to meet the players. Many of them she knew on sight — Quidditch fans were a loyal lot. There were a few leering men that set her teeth on edge, but for the most part, it was a family-friendly crowd. Ginny looked in vain for Ron or Hermione or Luna. Those three were the most likely to watch her play. Mum and Dad only went to the matches closest to home. George couldn't get away on a Saturday afternoon. Fleur and Bill didn't like to disrupt Victoire's nap. And Percy had already sent her an owl with his regrets. As the crowd thinned and she realized no one was going to show up to go out to dinner with her, her spirits dropped. What did she expect? No one had promised to see her this evening. "Ginny!" Regan called. "You want to go to the pub with us?" Just as she was about to answer Regan, she saw a wizard with messy dark hair Apparate onto the other side of the gates. "I don't know." Ginny handed her broom to the broom girl and craned to see if that wizard really was Harry. "I'll pop over if I decide." Regan shrugged. "Suit yourself." "Ms. Weasley. Linden Kline with Quidditch Weekly." Ginny felt a brief stab of disappointment. The dark-haired man wasn't Harry. It was a reporter. "Fabulous match. What were you thinking when you scored that last goal?" "What was I thinking?" She stared at the man. "I don't remember, actually. I was probably thinking about the rebound." "But that was a personal best for you." "Yes, but I was in middle of a match. I didn't score those points for me, I scored them for the team." The reporter nodded and grinned. His Quick-Quotes Quill was scribbling madly. "Yes, yes. This is golden. The readers like a team player." Ginny tried to focus on the spot just about the reporter's shoulder. She was going to hex him if he said one more stupid thing. "I think this interview is—" "Ms. Weasley, what do you think of Carlos Batanya?" "I don't think of Carlos Batanya," she answered through gritted teeth. "Hi, Ginny. Am I interrupting?" "Harry!" She whirled around. "It was you Apparating." "I just got here, yeah." His smile reached his eyes. It was the first time she had seen him smile like that and it did funny things to her insides. "I wish I could have seen your match. Two hundred points — and against Parsons! He's one of the best Keepers in the league." "I know." In her enthusiasm, Ginny turned her back completely on the reporter. "I think he was just having an off night. Or he got spooked by the new plays were tried on him." "Ah, Mr. Potter. Back from Spain are you? Princess all right?" Ginny turned around to see the reporter looking at both of them with an avid gleam in his eyes. Then she wondered if he had a camera embedded in his notebook. The way he was holding it level with his chest looked suspicious. Harry must have thought so, too, because he stepped in front of Ginny, blocking any kind of photo of them together. "I'm off duty now. You'll have to speak to a Ministry spokesperson about the princess." The reporter put on an ingratiating smile. "Mr. Potter, we can be off the record." He snapped his fingers and the Quick-Quotes Quill disappeared, as did the notebook. "I'm sure you missed your favorite Harpies player, hmm?" Harry didn't bother answering but turned to Ginny. "Ready?" She had no idea what she was supposed to be ready for, but she nodded dumbly. Then she felt Harry's hand on her upper arm and she was being Side-Along Apparated to the other side of the pitch. It was dark in the shadow of the stands. The reporter would really have to strain to see them. "We didn't go very far." "I didn't know how far you wanted to go," Harry said. "I — er — do you have plans tonight?" "No, not really. I was going to go with Regan and Pippa to the pub for a meal, but we hadn't decided anything." "Oh." She frowned. She couldn't see his face very well in the dark and she couldn't tell what that 'oh' meant. He sounded almost disappointed in her. "Harry?" "I should have contacted you sooner, I suppose." "What were you doing?" "Bringing the princess to England. In the most roundabout way possible." "I read about the assassination attempt — although there weren't a lot of details." "Good. Less chance of copycats." "Oh." It made sense, but Ginny wished he would tell her what happened. They stood in the darkness for a moment. The crowd noises were non-existent. The lights were going off one by one in the stadium. After the rush of winning, she realized that she was tired and hungry and sore. "I think I should get something to eat." She sighed. "Do you want to come with us to the pub?" "Uh. Not if you want to be with your friends…" "Harry, it's not about being with friends. I'm starving." "All right, then." They started to walk across the pitch — silently. Ginny couldn't take much more. She moved quickly in front of him and stood with her hands on her hips. "Why did you come here tonight if you weren't going to talk to me?" "I always come to your matches." He sounded annoyed. "And how was I supposed to know that?" "I don't know." He ran his hand through his hair. "Common sense? I am your fiancé. I would say I have more than a passing interest in your career." "I have plenty of common sense, thank you very much." She turned away from him, ready to stalk off. "If you wanted to have an argument tonight, then you're out of luck. I'm not listening." "Ginny, wait." He grabbed her arm and then abruptly dropped it. "Don't—" She turned and saw him clutching his upper arm as if he was in pain. "Harry? What's wrong?" "Nothing," he panted. "That is not nothing." "Ginny, just drop it, okay?" "I will not drop it." She lit her wand and held it up so she could see his arm. There was an ominous dark patch seeping through his robes. "You're bleeding!" "It's just a scratch." "From that assassination attempt. What hit you? A hex?" "Sword." Beads of sweat were forming on his upper lip. "Did you have a Healer look at it?" "No." She snorted. "Why does this not surprise me?" She held her wand out for the Knight Bus — she didn't want to risk Apparating an injured person all that way from Wales in the dark. "We're going to St. Mungo's right now." "It's just a scratch." Harry said something, but Ginny couldn't hear over the loud bang of the Knight Bus. It was just as well — she was in no mood to argue with him. They climbed onto the Knight Bus. When the driver asked for twelve Sickles each, Ginny realized she had no money — the skintight leather outfit didn't have pockets, for Merlin's sake. "I have money," Harry said to the driver, collapsing onto the nearest seat. "Just give us a moment." He was clutching a newly conjured pad over his left arm. "Mokeskin wallet is in the left pocket of my cloak," he muttered to Ginny. Ginny sat down on his right and gingerly leaned over him to pluck the small wallet out of the deep pocket. Her head bumped Harry's nose when she straightened. "Ow." "Sorry, Harry. Why won't this wallet open?" "You have to Spell it open." "Aurors — typical. I can't imagine who would try to pickpocket you." He was struggling to grab his wand and hold the pad on his arm. "I'll do it," Ginny said. "What's the password?" "Your birthday." "My birthday?" It gave her a weird feeling to think that he knew her birthday — and that he had to think of it every time he opened it to pay for his lunch or a drink or a newspaper. "Eleven August," she said in a low voice, tapping the wallet. Suddenly the bag was heavier and she could hear the sound of coins clinking against one another. "Oh, there's Spanish money in here, too." She counted out twenty-four Sickles and handed them to the driver. The Knight Bus reared back and then lurched forward with a bang. Harry lips were a thin white line. He must have jostled his cut. "Hang on," she said, not sure if he would want to be touched. "We'll be there in no time." "I'm all right." He looked at her, his green eyes clouded with pain. "Ginny, you said you were hungry." "I'll live." Honestly, he was infuriating. "You should have been checked out in Spain. Why didn't Ron make you go?" "Because I didn't tell him I was hurt. It didn't start bleeding until the next day. And it didn't hurt until today." "Sounds like the sword had a curse on it," Ginny said. "You're lucky your arm hasn't dropped off yet." "Yeah." He was looking distinctly green. "Maybe that's the next part of the curse. My arm feels like it's on fire." Ginny then noticed that his left hand was swollen and there were long red streaks that went from the fingers up his arm that was covered by his robes. "Oh, Harry." Alarmed, Ginny leaned over him again and touched his swollen hand. The flesh was hot and dry. "That looks like an infec—" She felt Harry slump forward, his nose on the nape of her neck. He had passed out. * "He should wake up any time now." Harry's eyelids were too heavy for him to open them and find out who was talking. "Do you think he can go home tonight?" Harry was instantly alert. That was Ginny's voice. "Ach. Yes. Augustus lifted the curse from his bloodstream." Judging by the accent, it must be Healer Wood talking to Ginny. "He dinna need a plaster, the cut's so small. A good night's sleep and he'll be himself." "But he passed out." Harry almost smiled at the worry in Ginny's voice. It wasn't affection or love or possessiveness, but at least she was concerned about him. "Of course he did. It was a strong curse. And he's a strong man to have fought it for so long. Make sure he gets a good night's sleep and plenty for breakfast." "All right." Ginny sounded thoughtful and Harry let himself dream a little. Breakfast with Ginny after spending the night with Ginny… "And how are you, lass? Memories coming back?" "Yes." Harry should have let them know he was listening, but he wanted to hear Ginny talking candidly about what had been going on with her. "And?" the Healer prompted. "And they're not coming back in the right order — the memories," Ginny said quickly — angrily. "And it's not like watching something in a Pensieve. I feel everything — like I'm reliving it." "Memory and emotion go hand-in-hand, lass. It's no surprise to me." "I don't like feeling thirteen all over again." Healer Wood laughed. "Dinna ken anyone would want to go back to those days." "I just…" Harry's heart turned at the forlorn note in Ginny's voice. "I just don't know what to believe or not to believe — I ask about things and I find out that I've only remembered half the story." "You're in the middle of the match, lass. Think about all the distractions a Chaser has, but how a Chaser never forgets the one thing that's important." "Scoring goals," Ginny murmured. "Right. Every memory retrieved — even the dirty, grubby ones — is one more goal — they'll add up eventually." "You make it sound so… logical." The Healer laughed. "Nothing in medicine is logical — or Quidditch, for that matter. The most unexpected things can happen." "True." "But not tonight's match, eh? I heard the recaps on the wireless. Sounds like picture-perfect Quidditch." Ginny laughed. "I know it won't happen every match, but it was a good way to kick off the season." "That's the spirit. Break a broom in the next match." "Thanks." "Here are the discharge papers for Mr. Potter. He listed you as next of kin, so you can sign for him." "He did?" "I dinna ken who else he would list." "Oh." Harry didn't know what that 'oh' meant, but it made him uncomfortable. He opened his eyes when he heard the door close behind the Healer. "Ginny?" "Harry! You're awake." Ginny moved to stand next to the high table he was lying on. "How do you feel?" "Better." He didn't have his glasses on, so it was hard to tell just what she was thinking. She was certainly staring at him long enough. "I gave you a get-well card once, didn't I?" He smiled. It was the last thing he expected her to say. "It sang." "I felt sorry for you," she said slowly. "After you lost the Quidditch match because of the Dementors." There it was again — Ginny feeling sorry for him. That was the last thing he wanted. "I was okay, you know. You didn't need you to feel sorry for me. I learned to do a Patronus that year." "Well." She stepped away. "I see. I suppose you thought it was stupid of me to bring you a card." "What? How did you come to that conclusion? I never said anything about the card. I just don't like anyone feeling sorry for me." "And I don't like feeling stupid and awkward!" He felt around on the pillow and found his glasses. Then he sat up. "Stupid? I don't see how you feel stupid." Ginny had her arms crossed in front of herself and her back to him. She was also wearing his cloak and he didn't know why. The examination room was overheated and stifling. "Well, I do." She turned around. "It took a lot of courage to bring you that card." Then she blushed. He hadn't seen her blush in years and now he remembered what she had told the Healer — she felt those memories when they came back. "You always had a lot of courage, Ginny." She looked up at him, uncertainty in her eyes. He didn't know what else to say. She was feeling twelve again and he was out of his league with a twelve-year-old Ginny. Now he was reverting back to thirteen, because the atmosphere in the room was as tense and awkward as he remembered from his less-than-smooth moments at Hogwarts. He said the only thing he could think of. "I kept the card," he blurted. "I mean — I still have it. I never thought it was stupid." Her mouth dropped open. "You kept it?" Another blush was forming on her cheeks. Funny how expressions could make you look old or young. Ginny looked about twelve standing there, clutching his too-big cloak around her. "Why?" "Why?" He ran his hands through his hair. He had no idea why. "I dunno. No one had ever given me a get-well card before?" Once he said it, he realized how pathetic it sounded. Ginny stared at him with big eyes and then nodded. She had that glazed look he was starting to recognize. More memories were coming back. "Ginny." She shook her head and then gave him a weary smile. "Sorry. I was someplace else." She looked him up and down. "Are you ready to go? I think we've had enough of St. Mungo's. I'm going to take you to The Burrow. Mum will be happy to have you, although I don't think she's doing Sunday dinner tomorrow. She said in her last owl something about meeting Percy's new girlfriend's — I mean, fiancé's — father." "Um. I can go to Grimmauld Place." "What?" She looked shocked. "That place is barely livable. And Kreacher hates you." She frowned and tapped her lip with one finger. "Kreacher. Did he give you maggots one Christmas? I seem to remember something about maggots." "Er." Harry didn't want to get into that now, although the situation felt eerily similar. He had agonized about Ginny that Christmas and she had been going out with Dean. It was depressing to think that she was as far away from him now as she had been then. "Kreacher doesn't hate me anymore. We — er— patched things up. He cooks really nice meals for me — and for you, sometimes." "He does?" "He does." "I'm still taking you to The Burrow," Ginny said. She frowned. "Were you going to see Teddy tomorrow? I had his name on my calendar and now I wonder if we were supposed to go together." "We were both supposed to see him — there are a few Sundays you have off this season and we decided — I mean — we had decided that you and I would spend them together with him." Her face cleared. "Oh, good. I really didn't want to miss seeing him. That's one of the drawbacks of Quidditch — I can't see people when I want to." "I know." At least Ginny still felt the same way about seeing the people she loved. Maybe someday she would feel that way about him again. He tried to forget what they would be doing if Ginny hadn't lost her memory. They would go to Grimmauld Place for a late dinner. Then he would have the fun of peeling that delectable uniform off of her… He frowned. "Um, Ginny? Why are you wearing my cloak? I mean — er — you can if you want to." Startled, she looked down at herself. "Oh! I forgot." Then she blushed again. "I felt funny wearing my uniform here. It's fine for flying but it's a little skimpy for St. Mungo's." "Oh." He frowned. Ginny had never been hung up on how she dressed. "I think you look fantastic." "You do?" She bit her lip. He almost asked her if she was joking, and then he realized she wasn't. She obviously didn't remember when she had modeled that new uniform for him less than a month ago. They had agreed the corset was quite versatile, since it could be worn on its own in the right circumstances. Like his bedroom. "Well, never mind." Ginny put her hand on his arm. "I'll Side-Along Apparate you to The Burrow." "No, I'll Side-Along Apparate you to The Burrow." Ginny frowned. "Are you one of those wizards who doesn't like when a witch Side-Along Apparates him?" "Yes." He tried to keep a straight face. "Well, that's ridiculous," Ginny huffed. "You can just find The Burrow on your own." "Ginny, wait." He realized he needed to placate her, since she didn't remember it had been a running joke between the two of them. "I know where The Burrow is. We always had a little joke about Apparition." "We did?" Color was rising in her cheeks. "I seem to have mucked it up again." "No, you haven't." He wanted to give her a hug, or better yet, kiss away that self-derision, but something stopped him. "Let's just each Apparate. I'll let you go first so you can tell your mum I'm coming." She nodded and pulled out her wand. "And it's very nice of you to invite me," he added — even though it was ridiculous. Mrs. Weasley would love to have him stay. Ginny rolled her eyes at him. She seemed to think he was ridiculous, too. With a brisk wave of her wand, she was gone. Harry took out his own wand and paused to look around the examining room. This wasn't what he had planned for their reunion. Ridiculous, indeed.
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