The Long Road Home, chapter 3
Rated:R
Summary: Sequel to Ginny's Gift. Read that story first. Harry must deal with the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat.
Harry stomped up the stairs to Ron's room swearing to himself. How could Ginny say he was behaving like a baby? How was he acting like a baby? By shutting her out? As much as he hated to do it, it was for her own good. And hadn't she done the same to him last January? She'd given him the silent treatment for a month. "If that isn't the pot calling the cauldron black, I don't know what is," he muttered under his breath. He ignored the twinge his conscience gave him at that thought, a twinge that wanted to remind him that his and Ginny's rift of last winter had been based on a misunderstanding, while he was fully conscious of what he was doing to her now.
He entered Ron's room and slammed the door, but the sound didn't make him feel any better. "Anyway, she has no idea what I'm going through," he said to no one in particular. The room was empty except for Hedwig, who had returned from her night's hunting while he was downstairs and currently had her head tucked under a wing. "None at all." He ignored his conscience again. This time it was insisting on reminding him that he'd chosen this path for himself.
He kicked at the chest of drawers in frustration but only succeeded in hurting his toe. His image in the mirror reflected his pained expression. It also served to remind him he hadn't bothered to get dressed today. Most days he just didn't feel like it.
"Aren't you going to make a comment?" he shouted at the mirror. "Say something, damn it! I know you can talk, I've heard you!"
The mirror maintained a stubborn silence, and Harry felt like kicking something again, but his sore toe made him think twice about it. "You're just a goddamned mirror, what do you know?" He rubbed ruefully at this toe. "Baby," he muttered again. "I'll show her I'm not a baby…" But how? What would be the best way to prove Ginny wrong? Then he had an idea. "I'll get her," he said to the mirror. "I'll get dressed, and then she won't be able to say anything. And you won't have a reason to say anything either!"
He moved to his trunk, where all his things were still stored. He'd never got round to unpacking it. He'd noticed Ron giving his trunk occasional looks over the past two weeks, but his friend had kept his comments to himself. Of course. The thought did nothing to improve Harry's mood.
But the first thing he laid his hand on wasn't a shirt or a pair of trousers; it was Dr Zog's Practical Spells for Wizards. Harry felt his heart give a strange sort of lurch, a feeling he hadn't had in a while. Was it hope? Once more he was reminded of the time last winter when he and Ginny hadn't been speaking to each other. The book had been trying to tell him something then, too. Perhaps it had some advice for him now.
His hands shaking slightly, he opened it to a random page. It had never made any difference in the past what page he opened this book to, he'd always found what he was looking for. Not this time. "Take two cups of dragon's blood and bring to a boil…" he read in disbelief. He slammed the book shut in disgust.
"I need advice, and you give me a recipe for oven cleaner! Thanks loads!" he grumbled.
But something made him try again. This book might have a twisted sense of humour, but it had never failed him in the past. It had always told him just what he needed to know. Not this time. No matter how hard he concentrated, whenever he opened the book it said the same thing. He finally gave up and heaved it into a corner, roaring, "Useless piece of crap!"
He sank down next to his trunk and buried his face in his hands for a moment, fighting back a wave of despair. He just didn't know where to turn anymore. He'd worked hard at closing off a lot of avenues these past weeks, and he didn't feel right about trying to reopen them now. He kicked at this trunk again. Useless. It was all useless… Why had Ron even bothered packing it up for him? He might as well get rid of it all…
He stood and began to pull the last vestiges of Hogwarts out of his trunk, tossing them randomly about the room. Black robes emblazoned with the Gryffindor crest… He wouldn't be needing those anymore. Spell books… Pointless. He came to his Firebolt and hesitated. He was probably more attached to his broomstick that any of his other possessions. He'd told Ron at the end of term that Ginny could have it. Well, she could. She could have all of it, if she wanted.
He laid the Firebolt on his bed, and turned back to his trunk. His cauldron was next. He'd hated Potions with a passion, and even if he hadn't, it wouldn't be a possible career choice for him now. In spite of the speech Professor Snape had given to the class at the beginning of Harry's first year, in which the potions master had openly shown disdain for wand-waving, a lot of the most advanced potions he'd studied this year required an incantation. He pulled the cauldron out of his trunk and gave it a shove.
It rolled across the floor, coming to a jarring halt when it hit the wall underneath the window sill on which Hedwig's cage sat. Hedwig gave a hoot of outrage, as she was so unceremoniously awakened.
"Quiet, you," Harry snarled at her. "You won't even be able to find me now, will you? You're just as useless as the rest of it!"
Hedwig puffed out her feathers and raised her beak into the air. Harry knew he'd insulted her, but he felt no remorse. Hedwig must have sensed his mood, for she suddenly flew out of her cage, but she didn't fly directly out the window. She flew once around the room, cuffing Harry hard on the head as she passed. Harry stood, gaping for a moment. He'd just been struck by the thought that if she could still understand him, then maybe she would prove to be the only owl who could still find him. And he'd just turned her away as well. But it was too late to do anything about that now. She was gone.
"You're going to need this!" he shouted out the window, and then he chucked Hedwig's cage after her. "Bloody stupid owl!" He turned and gave his trunk a hard kick, welcoming the pain it caused his toe, and managing to knock it over and scatter the remainder of its contents over the floor. He kicked them about for good measure before stopping to look about the room, an odd feeling of satisfaction at the mess he'd made rising in him.
Then he grabbed up some clothes at random, yanked the Firebolt from his bed, and stormed off to the bathroom downstairs, stopping only to toss the broomstick onto Ginny's bed in passing. In spite of his anger at everything else, he still felt like taking a shower and getting dressed. He had something to prove to Ginny at any rate.
He stood under the hot water for a long time, thinking and growing calmer. What was he going to do? He was beginning to have serious doubts about being able to remain here at the Burrow much longer. Every day, every hour, he saw something that reminded him he no longer possessed any magic. Even staying up in Ron's room most of the day didn't help matters. There he was constantly confronted with the silent mirror and the images of the Chudley Cannons reminding him of what he could no longer do. But if he left here, where would he go and how would he support himself? He had no idea. He thought of Sirius, but his godfather had other problems to deal with, and Harry didn't even know if Sirius had a permanent home.
Then there was Ginny. It was going to kill him to leave her, but at the moment he saw no other alternative. He knew his behaviour towards her was causing her a great deal of pain. He'd seen it fleet across her face every time he did something to alienate her, and he hated himself for it. But he couldn't seem to stop himself, and he didn't know why.
By the time he turned off the hot water and took a towel to dry himself off, the skin on his fingers was wrinkled. There was a thick cloud of steam in the air, and he opened the door a crack to allow it to escape. As he reached for his trousers, he caught sight of his reflection again. He'd washed his hair in the shower, but it was hanging limply about his neck, drops of water still clinging to the strands making it look too long and greasy, somehow. Just like… "Snape," he hissed.
His hair had always been unmanageable, and in the past that had never bothered him, but suddenly it did. He rummaged through drawer after drawer in the cabinets around the sink until he found what he was looking for, a pair of shears. Then draped his towel around his shoulders before he began hacking away at his hair until it looked less like his former teacher's hair. Wisps of black hair stuck to the towel as they fell. After a while it seemed like a good idea to stop snipping. He really didn't have any idea what he was doing, after all. His hair was shorter now, at any rate, and at least he didn't look like Snape anymore.
He also needed another shower. Bits of hair were sticking to the back of his neck, which was still damp from his first shower. They were going to become bothersome before too long. He collected as much of it as he could with the towel, before tossing it under the sink. Then he undressed once more and turned the shower back on. He got quite a shock when he stepped under the spray. The water was icy cold. He'd obviously stayed in too long the first time and used up all the hot water.
His second shower was considerably shorter than the first one. He reached for a clean towel to dry off once more and began to get dressed. As he pulled a T-shirt over his head, his upper arms scraped against the stubble on his cheeks. Shaving with a Muggle razor had made his beard grow in much heavier. If he was going to look presentable, he really ought to do that now.
He noticed in the process that the blade in his razor had become rather dull. Who knew how long Mr Weasley had had this lying around, after all? Once he'd finished, he was really going to have to change to a new blade. He managed to get the razor taken apart and the old blade removed with no problems, but the new blade proved to be quite a bit sharper.
He winced as a sudden, stinging pain sliced through his finger. Looking down, he saw a trickle of blood. He raised the hand holding the blade--the same hand with the cut finger--so he could get a closer look. There was something strangely fascinating about it. He thought that it really wouldn't take much. A slice across his wrist would do it, and then he wouldn't have to worry anymore about anything. Just some blood and pain to endure before it ended, but he was no stranger to those either.
But could he do it? Did he really want to? It was a rather stupid thing to do in the end…
Suddenly he heard a noise behind him, and then a voice came. "Harry, what do you think you're doing with that?"
Harry turned to see Ginny advancing on him. Her eyes were fixed on his right hand. "What does it look like I was doing?"
"That's what I want you to tell me, Harry, because I really don't like what I'm thinking right now."
Harry didn't know what made him say what he said next. Maybe he was just tired of her watching his every move. "I was testing the blade to see if it was sharp enough."
She took another step forward, her eyes blazing with fury, and he immediately regretted the words. They'd just come out… from somewhere. Like most of the things he'd said to her over the past two weeks. But then just as suddenly her expression became closed off, and she stopped in her tracks and crossed her arms. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"Is it sharp enough?"
Harry stared at her. He had no idea what he could possibly say to that. Part of him couldn't believe that she actually thought he was capable of going through with it.
"Go on," she continued, her voice full of challenge. "Go ahead. You know you want to do it. What's the matter? Scared?"
He still couldn't answer, but it didn't matter. She kept on going, he voice steadily rising, without pausing for him to reply. "What's there to be scared of? This ought to be easy enough. You faced Voldemort. You defeated him. This is nothing. This is the easy way out, you know! Do it, and see where it gets you!" Her voice was shaking with anger by now. "But let me tell you one thing. If you do this, there's nothing to keep me from following you!"
He opened and closed his mouth a few times in shock at the idea that she'd take such a drastic step. Then he shook himself. "Keep it down, will you?" Harry hissed. "Do you want everyone up here?"
"What's the matter? Ashamed of yourself?" Suddenly, she turned and shouted into the corridor. "Hey, everyone, come and see. Harry's going to kill himself!"
"Ginny!"
She looked at him triumphantly. "They've all gone out actually." Her words were borne out by the lack of the sound of footsteps running up the stairs. "There's no one home but you and me. You see? I'd have been the one to find you. Is that what you wanted?"
"No!" he shouted just as loudly as she had. "I didn't want you to find me. I don't want you to talk to me. I don't even want you around me." There he was again, blurting things he didn't mean, as if there was some other person in his head controlling his tongue.
Ginny's face fell, and Harry felt sick to see the hurt in her expression. He hated himself more than ever now. "Well, if that's what you really want, Harry…"
She hadn't even finished her sentence when she turned to go. Harry reached out with his left hand and grabbed her arm before she could run off. "Wait, Ginny. Don't go. I'm sorry. I keep saying these horrible things, and I don't even mean them…"
She nodded once, and he dropped his hand from her arm. At the same time he laid the razor blade aside. "What did you do to your finger?"
"I cut it when I was changing the blade. The old one was dull."
"So you weren't…"
"No, I wasn't… Well, in all honestly the thought had crossed my mind, but I decided it was stupid on my own." He ran a hand through his now-shorter hair and swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. "I'm sorry I let you think I was going to. I don't know what came over me. It was completely unforgivable."
As he watched for her reaction, she took a deep breath, as if she was coming to a decision. "I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you yet, Harry. It seems I have a lot to forgive you for lately, and I'm not sure when I'll be ready to do that. It's not just now, it's everything that's been happening for the past month, really…"
That scared him. He had to swallow again before he could reply. "What?" That came out more harshly than he'd intended, but it was either that, or he wouldn't have got the sound out at all. "What did I do a month ago?"
"It was more than a month ago, actually. I think it all started when you found that spell and decided not to tell me about it."
"I couldn't tell you about it. You would have tried to stop me!"
"How do you know? You never gave me a chance to show how I would have taken the news! We had an agreement, Harry! You promised me you wouldn't keep things from me!"
Harry began to panic. He knew she had him. "What agreement?" he hedged.
Ginny rolled her eyes at him. "I can't believe you don't remember this. We were locked up in the storage room at the time. Ron and Hermione locked us in, remember?"
"Vaguely…"
"Honestly! You were the one who brought it up. We had that whole fight last winter because of a stupid misunderstanding, and you asked me to promise you to tell you if something was bothering me. And you in turn promised me the same. Any of that ring a bell?"
It did. All too well. His insides squirmed with guilt, but something made him argue with her. "I had to keep this a secret. The fewer people who knew the better!"
"Hermione knew…"
"She found the spell. Of course she knew! I had to make her promise to keep this a secret. I would have used a Memory Charm on her otherwise…"
Ginny's expression told him she clearly didn't believe that. "It doesn't matter. What matters is you didn't trust me enough to tell me. And you presumed to know how I would react to the news. Next…" She obviously wasn't going to give him a chance to argue further. "Next, you tried to sneak off and face Voldemort without me."
"Ginny, we went through all that the night before."
"You weren't even going to tell me good-bye, Harry! Didn't I deserve even that much?"
"You would have tried to stop me…"
"How do you know?" she shouted. "You assume you know what I'm going to do, but you don't really, do you?"
"Hermione tried to stop us…"
"I AM NOT HERMIONE! I'm Ginny! Just because she reacted one way doesn't mean I would have done the same in her place! You didn't even give me a chance to show you that, did you? Harry, I've known. I've known ever since I met you that you were going to have to face Voldemort one day. I knew I was going to have to let you do it. You didn't even give me that chance."
Harry looked down at his feet. There was nothing he could possibly say to justify himself in the face of what she'd just said.
"You can't say anything, can you? You know you're wrong." It was as if she could read his mind. "The thing is, are you man enough to admit it?"
He knew she was right, but something--it may have been the part of his brain that had been controlling his actions and making him act like such an idiot over the previous weeks--prevented him from replying.
She stared at him for a while, her arms still crossed. When she seemed convinced he was not going to reply, she went on. She began listing all the things he'd done to shut her out ever since the day he'd woken up in the hospital wing. He couldn't believe she remembered every slight. If he didn't know better he'd have thought she had some sort of tape recorder in her head and she was rewinding the tape to remember all this in such detail. He concentrated on that rather than on what she was saying. It was much easier for him than to listen to her list everything he'd done to hurt her.
Then he realised she'd stopped. He looked up. She did not look pleased. "Stop that!"
"Stop what?"
"Stop talking about me in your head. I know you're doing it."
How the hell did she do that? he wondered. How could she have known?
"You're doing it again!"
"What am I supposed to do? I mean, how do you remember all that? All those details?"
"They aren't details, Harry. I remember what's important. Everything we've said to each other is important to me."
Harry looked away. He wanted to get out of here, but she was blocking his only means of escape. He couldn't remember ever feeling this terrible about the things he'd done. He wanted to tell her he hadn't meant them… that they'd just happened, but he didn't think she was going to buy that excuse in her current mood.
"Weren't the same things important to you, Harry?"
Just when he thought things couldn't possibly get any worse…
"Damn it, why don't you trust me?"
His head snapped up. "Trust you?!"
"Yes, Harry, trust me. You didn't trust me enough to tell me what was hurting you. You were going to try to keep all this from me. And you'd promised…"
So she was back on that again, was she? He knew he had to answer her soon. He could tell their future together was hanging by the thinnest of threads now, and it wasn't going to take much at all to snap it. But wasn't that what he'd wanted? To push her away? He didn't know anymore. At the moment he felt like he needed her more than ever. But it wasn't exactly the right time to ask anything of her. Not after all he'd done to her. By all rights she should hate him now…
She was looking through him again, knowing he was holding another internal dialogue with himself. "What are you thinking?" she asked.
He knew he had to tell her. "I'm wondering why you don't hate me." He felt stupid the moment the words were out.
"Because I love you, you stupid prat. Although at the moment, I'm not too sure why."
Harry couldn't say anything to this. He was still trying to get his mind around the concept. After all he'd done--and her list of grievances had been long and legitimate, even if he hadn't admitted it aloud--she still loved him.
Ginny was shaking her head slowly. "Harry, don't you see? I have loved you ever since I was ten. The nature of my feelings may have changed over the past seven years, but I can honestly say I've loved you all that time. And I've only had reason to hope you might feel the same way for the past year. Don't you think if I could have stopped in those first six years, I would have? Don't you see? I can't stop. I don't think I'll ever stop."
Harry stared up at the ceiling. He was going to lose it very soon if she didn't stop telling him this. But she wasn't finished. "I told you that time in the hospital wing… the day you told us about losing your powers… I told you I understood what you were doing. You're still doing it. You've been trying to push me away, and I understand why, even if I don't like it. You wanted to make me hate you so you wouldn't hurt me when you left. But that's not how it works. I meant what I said before. I will follow you anywhere you decide to go."
She stopped there, and Harry knew what he had to say to her. He just wasn't sure he'd be able to. He had to swallow very hard to get any words to come out. "I was trying to spare you pain, and in the end all I did was cause you more…"
"Yes, Harry, you did."
"I'm… I'm sorry… I know that doesn't begin to cover it…" He couldn't go on. He was on the very brink now, and he made a valiant effort to hold himself back.
But her next words were his undoing. "I'm not going to forget what you've done, but I understand, and I forgive you."
He had to turn away. He couldn't continue to stand in the light of her love. He was unworthy. But he felt her hands on him. Softly they turned him back to her and cradled his face. "Don't be afraid, Harry," she said gently. "Don't ever be afraid to let go with me."
He found himself completely enveloped in a warm embrace, and the dam burst at last. As had happened the day he woke up in the hospital wing, he buried his face against her and allowed himself release. After a long time, he pulled back from her, spent. They'd both sunk to the floor together. Her eyes were red-rimmed as his surely must be.
"You're not alone, Harry," she said quietly. "You don't have to go through this alone. You can always come to me, and if you can't come to me, go to someone. Please. I think you should talk to Professor Lupin."
"How? He's gone to help Sirius."
"Send him an owl…"
"I, erm, sort of did something to make Hedwig mad at me, too."
"Send Pigwidgeon, then. Just write to him, please."
He knew she was right, and he nodded. "I don't deserve you, you know that?"
She smiled slightly at that. "I don't suppose you do, but there's not a whole lot we can do about that, is there?" She reached up and ran a hand through his hair. "Harry… What have you done?"
Unconsciously he glanced towards the sink where he'd tossed the towel full of clippings. She followed his gaze. He tried to shrug it off. "Thought I needed a hair cut. It's not that bad, is it?"
His worst fears were confirmed when she didn't reply. She leaned closer and began inspecting a bit more carefully. "It's not a complete loss," she said after a while. "I think I might be able to salvage it. It's going to be a bit short, mind you."
"Since when do you know how to cut hair?"
"Since when do you?" she returned, and it dawned on him how pleasant it was to hold a nearly normal conversation with her. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed it. It now struck him just how much he'd missed over the past weeks: closeness, kisses, touches… he wanted it back; he wanted her back. "I can hardly do a worse job than you have. Besides, Mum taught me how."
"She did?"
"Yeah. She used to do all the boys." Harry remembered Mrs Weasley needling Bill about his long hair, and realised she'd been perfectly serious about giving him a hair cut. "With so many of us, it was more practical that way. And, well, she showed me how. I used to practice on my dolls. Mum knew a charm that made their hair grow back, so I've had lots of practice. I've even done Ron's hair a time or two… when he'd let me, that is. Not since he started Hogwarts," she added, noting Harry's look of disbelief. She got to her feet and extended a hand to Harry. "Come on."
He let her pull him up. "Where are we going?"
She picked up the shears he'd left lying out and took a clean towel. "My room. We'll clean up in here later."
"Erm, Gin… I'm going to need your help, I think…"
"What? Cleaning up the mess you made in Ron's room? Yeah, I saw. But Mum's going to be out running errands all afternoon, and Ron and Hermione have gone into the village. No one will have to know about it."
"Thanks."
They climbed the stairs to Ginny's room together, while Harry thought about the irony of the situation. Here they were with the entire house to themselves for the better part of the day, Ginny had just invited him up to her room, and he wasn't sure if he even dared kiss her. It wasn't that he was afraid to; it was more that it didn't seem right. He'd treated her abominably. He didn't feel comfortable making the first move.
Once she had him seated in her room, the towel draped around his shoulders he felt even less comfortable, but for a different reason. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the sensation of her running her fingers through his hair as she lifted the locks and trimmed them off evenly. He enjoyed it rather more than he suspected he ought to. It was another reminder of how much he'd missed touching her and having her touch him. It didn't help matters when she finished and began brushing stray hairs from the back of his neck. She was doing it perfunctorily enough, but he couldn't help feeling a shiver pass through him at the contact.
At last she stepped back, and he stood up quickly, making a show of going to look in the mirror to hide the awkward feelings she was arousing in him. She'd been right… She did know what she was doing. His hair was much shorter than it had been, but it didn't look all that bad, really…
"Harry," her voice came from behind him. "Don't you want to take this back up to Ron's room with you?"
He turned to see her holding his Firebolt. "No, Ginny, I want you to have that."
"I can't take this from you."
"I can't use it. You might as well have it. Maybe you can make the Quidditch team this year."
"Harry, I…"
"Please, Ginny, keep it. I think flying is going to be what I miss most of all, but if I can't fly on it, I want you to be able to."
She relented at that. He thought she turned away rather quickly at his words and gave an audible sniff. He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, and she came into his arms and let him hold her. As long as he could stay like this with her, he thought, he could convince himself that everything was going to be all right.
She pulled back from him, and the temptation to lean in and kiss her became more and more difficult to resist. "Maybe…" he began, trying to hold to his resolve, "maybe we ought to see about that mess."
"Wait, Harry." She was fumbling in her pocket. "I almost forgot. You left this lying on the kitchen table. Don't you even want to know how you did?"
She was holding out the envelope with his NEWT results. Harry still didn't know what possible difference this was going to make in his life, but he took the envelope from her in spite of this and broke the seal. He unfolded the parchment, and as he read it over, he could feel his jaw literally drop. He'd done far, far better than he'd ever expected. Certainly not as well as Hermione, but still…
"What is it?" Ginny asked him curiously.
He couldn't speak. He handed her the parchment so that she could see for herself. "Wow, Harry… These are… They're amazing."
"Yeah, aren't they? I still can't believe Snape…"
"You could get a Ministry position with these marks, Harry."
"Ginny, don't. Please don't ruin it."
"I'm serious, Harry. There are lots of positions that don't require any sort of magic really." Harry wanted to protest, but she held up a hand. "Now just hear me out. No, they're not the most exciting jobs in the world, but you'll be able to remain part of the magical world. That's what you want, isn't it?"
That was just Harry's problem. He didn't know what he wanted. He hadn't had a clear idea before he'd gone and faced Voldemort, and he certainly didn't have one now. He knew he wasn't really qualified to take on anything in the Muggle world, in any case; he'd never been happy there. And Ginny was part of the magical world. Perhaps he owed it to her to try. "I suppose…"
"You can give it a try, can't you?"
"I guess…"
"Harry you're shutting me out again…"
"I'm sorry. I just don't know… I'll think about it, all right?"
She hesitated, unsure for a moment, and then took a deep breath. Taking a step closer, she put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. "Harry I need you to know something. I love you. You. Not your magical ability, but you, Harry." Then she brought his face down so she could kiss him tenderly and far too briefly.
He reached up and touched his lips, surprised. He hadn't expected her to do that after all the anger she'd demonstrated to him today. He felt as if he was never going to understand her.
"Come on," she said taking his hand. "We've got a mess to clean up." And she led him out of the room and up the stairs.
A/N: Once again this chapter would not have been possible without Marian's support, and basically feeding me dialogue… Happy Birthday, dear! Thanks also to my betas… And thanks to all who have reviewed. I'm astounded at the response. I'm hoping to be able to lighten things up for a bit after this chapter.
Chapter 4
Summary: Sequel to Ginny's Gift. Read that story first. Harry must deal with the aftermath of Voldemort's defeat.
Harry stomped up the stairs to Ron's room swearing to himself. How could Ginny say he was behaving like a baby? How was he acting like a baby? By shutting her out? As much as he hated to do it, it was for her own good. And hadn't she done the same to him last January? She'd given him the silent treatment for a month. "If that isn't the pot calling the cauldron black, I don't know what is," he muttered under his breath. He ignored the twinge his conscience gave him at that thought, a twinge that wanted to remind him that his and Ginny's rift of last winter had been based on a misunderstanding, while he was fully conscious of what he was doing to her now.
He entered Ron's room and slammed the door, but the sound didn't make him feel any better. "Anyway, she has no idea what I'm going through," he said to no one in particular. The room was empty except for Hedwig, who had returned from her night's hunting while he was downstairs and currently had her head tucked under a wing. "None at all." He ignored his conscience again. This time it was insisting on reminding him that he'd chosen this path for himself.
He kicked at the chest of drawers in frustration but only succeeded in hurting his toe. His image in the mirror reflected his pained expression. It also served to remind him he hadn't bothered to get dressed today. Most days he just didn't feel like it.
"Aren't you going to make a comment?" he shouted at the mirror. "Say something, damn it! I know you can talk, I've heard you!"
The mirror maintained a stubborn silence, and Harry felt like kicking something again, but his sore toe made him think twice about it. "You're just a goddamned mirror, what do you know?" He rubbed ruefully at this toe. "Baby," he muttered again. "I'll show her I'm not a baby…" But how? What would be the best way to prove Ginny wrong? Then he had an idea. "I'll get her," he said to the mirror. "I'll get dressed, and then she won't be able to say anything. And you won't have a reason to say anything either!"
He moved to his trunk, where all his things were still stored. He'd never got round to unpacking it. He'd noticed Ron giving his trunk occasional looks over the past two weeks, but his friend had kept his comments to himself. Of course. The thought did nothing to improve Harry's mood.
But the first thing he laid his hand on wasn't a shirt or a pair of trousers; it was Dr Zog's Practical Spells for Wizards. Harry felt his heart give a strange sort of lurch, a feeling he hadn't had in a while. Was it hope? Once more he was reminded of the time last winter when he and Ginny hadn't been speaking to each other. The book had been trying to tell him something then, too. Perhaps it had some advice for him now.
His hands shaking slightly, he opened it to a random page. It had never made any difference in the past what page he opened this book to, he'd always found what he was looking for. Not this time. "Take two cups of dragon's blood and bring to a boil…" he read in disbelief. He slammed the book shut in disgust.
"I need advice, and you give me a recipe for oven cleaner! Thanks loads!" he grumbled.
But something made him try again. This book might have a twisted sense of humour, but it had never failed him in the past. It had always told him just what he needed to know. Not this time. No matter how hard he concentrated, whenever he opened the book it said the same thing. He finally gave up and heaved it into a corner, roaring, "Useless piece of crap!"
He sank down next to his trunk and buried his face in his hands for a moment, fighting back a wave of despair. He just didn't know where to turn anymore. He'd worked hard at closing off a lot of avenues these past weeks, and he didn't feel right about trying to reopen them now. He kicked at this trunk again. Useless. It was all useless… Why had Ron even bothered packing it up for him? He might as well get rid of it all…
He stood and began to pull the last vestiges of Hogwarts out of his trunk, tossing them randomly about the room. Black robes emblazoned with the Gryffindor crest… He wouldn't be needing those anymore. Spell books… Pointless. He came to his Firebolt and hesitated. He was probably more attached to his broomstick that any of his other possessions. He'd told Ron at the end of term that Ginny could have it. Well, she could. She could have all of it, if she wanted.
He laid the Firebolt on his bed, and turned back to his trunk. His cauldron was next. He'd hated Potions with a passion, and even if he hadn't, it wouldn't be a possible career choice for him now. In spite of the speech Professor Snape had given to the class at the beginning of Harry's first year, in which the potions master had openly shown disdain for wand-waving, a lot of the most advanced potions he'd studied this year required an incantation. He pulled the cauldron out of his trunk and gave it a shove.
It rolled across the floor, coming to a jarring halt when it hit the wall underneath the window sill on which Hedwig's cage sat. Hedwig gave a hoot of outrage, as she was so unceremoniously awakened.
"Quiet, you," Harry snarled at her. "You won't even be able to find me now, will you? You're just as useless as the rest of it!"
Hedwig puffed out her feathers and raised her beak into the air. Harry knew he'd insulted her, but he felt no remorse. Hedwig must have sensed his mood, for she suddenly flew out of her cage, but she didn't fly directly out the window. She flew once around the room, cuffing Harry hard on the head as she passed. Harry stood, gaping for a moment. He'd just been struck by the thought that if she could still understand him, then maybe she would prove to be the only owl who could still find him. And he'd just turned her away as well. But it was too late to do anything about that now. She was gone.
"You're going to need this!" he shouted out the window, and then he chucked Hedwig's cage after her. "Bloody stupid owl!" He turned and gave his trunk a hard kick, welcoming the pain it caused his toe, and managing to knock it over and scatter the remainder of its contents over the floor. He kicked them about for good measure before stopping to look about the room, an odd feeling of satisfaction at the mess he'd made rising in him.
Then he grabbed up some clothes at random, yanked the Firebolt from his bed, and stormed off to the bathroom downstairs, stopping only to toss the broomstick onto Ginny's bed in passing. In spite of his anger at everything else, he still felt like taking a shower and getting dressed. He had something to prove to Ginny at any rate.
He stood under the hot water for a long time, thinking and growing calmer. What was he going to do? He was beginning to have serious doubts about being able to remain here at the Burrow much longer. Every day, every hour, he saw something that reminded him he no longer possessed any magic. Even staying up in Ron's room most of the day didn't help matters. There he was constantly confronted with the silent mirror and the images of the Chudley Cannons reminding him of what he could no longer do. But if he left here, where would he go and how would he support himself? He had no idea. He thought of Sirius, but his godfather had other problems to deal with, and Harry didn't even know if Sirius had a permanent home.
Then there was Ginny. It was going to kill him to leave her, but at the moment he saw no other alternative. He knew his behaviour towards her was causing her a great deal of pain. He'd seen it fleet across her face every time he did something to alienate her, and he hated himself for it. But he couldn't seem to stop himself, and he didn't know why.
By the time he turned off the hot water and took a towel to dry himself off, the skin on his fingers was wrinkled. There was a thick cloud of steam in the air, and he opened the door a crack to allow it to escape. As he reached for his trousers, he caught sight of his reflection again. He'd washed his hair in the shower, but it was hanging limply about his neck, drops of water still clinging to the strands making it look too long and greasy, somehow. Just like… "Snape," he hissed.
His hair had always been unmanageable, and in the past that had never bothered him, but suddenly it did. He rummaged through drawer after drawer in the cabinets around the sink until he found what he was looking for, a pair of shears. Then draped his towel around his shoulders before he began hacking away at his hair until it looked less like his former teacher's hair. Wisps of black hair stuck to the towel as they fell. After a while it seemed like a good idea to stop snipping. He really didn't have any idea what he was doing, after all. His hair was shorter now, at any rate, and at least he didn't look like Snape anymore.
He also needed another shower. Bits of hair were sticking to the back of his neck, which was still damp from his first shower. They were going to become bothersome before too long. He collected as much of it as he could with the towel, before tossing it under the sink. Then he undressed once more and turned the shower back on. He got quite a shock when he stepped under the spray. The water was icy cold. He'd obviously stayed in too long the first time and used up all the hot water.
His second shower was considerably shorter than the first one. He reached for a clean towel to dry off once more and began to get dressed. As he pulled a T-shirt over his head, his upper arms scraped against the stubble on his cheeks. Shaving with a Muggle razor had made his beard grow in much heavier. If he was going to look presentable, he really ought to do that now.
He noticed in the process that the blade in his razor had become rather dull. Who knew how long Mr Weasley had had this lying around, after all? Once he'd finished, he was really going to have to change to a new blade. He managed to get the razor taken apart and the old blade removed with no problems, but the new blade proved to be quite a bit sharper.
He winced as a sudden, stinging pain sliced through his finger. Looking down, he saw a trickle of blood. He raised the hand holding the blade--the same hand with the cut finger--so he could get a closer look. There was something strangely fascinating about it. He thought that it really wouldn't take much. A slice across his wrist would do it, and then he wouldn't have to worry anymore about anything. Just some blood and pain to endure before it ended, but he was no stranger to those either.
But could he do it? Did he really want to? It was a rather stupid thing to do in the end…
Suddenly he heard a noise behind him, and then a voice came. "Harry, what do you think you're doing with that?"
Harry turned to see Ginny advancing on him. Her eyes were fixed on his right hand. "What does it look like I was doing?"
"That's what I want you to tell me, Harry, because I really don't like what I'm thinking right now."
Harry didn't know what made him say what he said next. Maybe he was just tired of her watching his every move. "I was testing the blade to see if it was sharp enough."
She took another step forward, her eyes blazing with fury, and he immediately regretted the words. They'd just come out… from somewhere. Like most of the things he'd said to her over the past two weeks. But then just as suddenly her expression became closed off, and she stopped in her tracks and crossed her arms. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"Is it sharp enough?"
Harry stared at her. He had no idea what he could possibly say to that. Part of him couldn't believe that she actually thought he was capable of going through with it.
"Go on," she continued, her voice full of challenge. "Go ahead. You know you want to do it. What's the matter? Scared?"
He still couldn't answer, but it didn't matter. She kept on going, he voice steadily rising, without pausing for him to reply. "What's there to be scared of? This ought to be easy enough. You faced Voldemort. You defeated him. This is nothing. This is the easy way out, you know! Do it, and see where it gets you!" Her voice was shaking with anger by now. "But let me tell you one thing. If you do this, there's nothing to keep me from following you!"
He opened and closed his mouth a few times in shock at the idea that she'd take such a drastic step. Then he shook himself. "Keep it down, will you?" Harry hissed. "Do you want everyone up here?"
"What's the matter? Ashamed of yourself?" Suddenly, she turned and shouted into the corridor. "Hey, everyone, come and see. Harry's going to kill himself!"
"Ginny!"
She looked at him triumphantly. "They've all gone out actually." Her words were borne out by the lack of the sound of footsteps running up the stairs. "There's no one home but you and me. You see? I'd have been the one to find you. Is that what you wanted?"
"No!" he shouted just as loudly as she had. "I didn't want you to find me. I don't want you to talk to me. I don't even want you around me." There he was again, blurting things he didn't mean, as if there was some other person in his head controlling his tongue.
Ginny's face fell, and Harry felt sick to see the hurt in her expression. He hated himself more than ever now. "Well, if that's what you really want, Harry…"
She hadn't even finished her sentence when she turned to go. Harry reached out with his left hand and grabbed her arm before she could run off. "Wait, Ginny. Don't go. I'm sorry. I keep saying these horrible things, and I don't even mean them…"
She nodded once, and he dropped his hand from her arm. At the same time he laid the razor blade aside. "What did you do to your finger?"
"I cut it when I was changing the blade. The old one was dull."
"So you weren't…"
"No, I wasn't… Well, in all honestly the thought had crossed my mind, but I decided it was stupid on my own." He ran a hand through his now-shorter hair and swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat. "I'm sorry I let you think I was going to. I don't know what came over me. It was completely unforgivable."
As he watched for her reaction, she took a deep breath, as if she was coming to a decision. "I don't know if I'm ready to forgive you yet, Harry. It seems I have a lot to forgive you for lately, and I'm not sure when I'll be ready to do that. It's not just now, it's everything that's been happening for the past month, really…"
That scared him. He had to swallow again before he could reply. "What?" That came out more harshly than he'd intended, but it was either that, or he wouldn't have got the sound out at all. "What did I do a month ago?"
"It was more than a month ago, actually. I think it all started when you found that spell and decided not to tell me about it."
"I couldn't tell you about it. You would have tried to stop me!"
"How do you know? You never gave me a chance to show how I would have taken the news! We had an agreement, Harry! You promised me you wouldn't keep things from me!"
Harry began to panic. He knew she had him. "What agreement?" he hedged.
Ginny rolled her eyes at him. "I can't believe you don't remember this. We were locked up in the storage room at the time. Ron and Hermione locked us in, remember?"
"Vaguely…"
"Honestly! You were the one who brought it up. We had that whole fight last winter because of a stupid misunderstanding, and you asked me to promise you to tell you if something was bothering me. And you in turn promised me the same. Any of that ring a bell?"
It did. All too well. His insides squirmed with guilt, but something made him argue with her. "I had to keep this a secret. The fewer people who knew the better!"
"Hermione knew…"
"She found the spell. Of course she knew! I had to make her promise to keep this a secret. I would have used a Memory Charm on her otherwise…"
Ginny's expression told him she clearly didn't believe that. "It doesn't matter. What matters is you didn't trust me enough to tell me. And you presumed to know how I would react to the news. Next…" She obviously wasn't going to give him a chance to argue further. "Next, you tried to sneak off and face Voldemort without me."
"Ginny, we went through all that the night before."
"You weren't even going to tell me good-bye, Harry! Didn't I deserve even that much?"
"You would have tried to stop me…"
"How do you know?" she shouted. "You assume you know what I'm going to do, but you don't really, do you?"
"Hermione tried to stop us…"
"I AM NOT HERMIONE! I'm Ginny! Just because she reacted one way doesn't mean I would have done the same in her place! You didn't even give me a chance to show you that, did you? Harry, I've known. I've known ever since I met you that you were going to have to face Voldemort one day. I knew I was going to have to let you do it. You didn't even give me that chance."
Harry looked down at his feet. There was nothing he could possibly say to justify himself in the face of what she'd just said.
"You can't say anything, can you? You know you're wrong." It was as if she could read his mind. "The thing is, are you man enough to admit it?"
He knew she was right, but something--it may have been the part of his brain that had been controlling his actions and making him act like such an idiot over the previous weeks--prevented him from replying.
She stared at him for a while, her arms still crossed. When she seemed convinced he was not going to reply, she went on. She began listing all the things he'd done to shut her out ever since the day he'd woken up in the hospital wing. He couldn't believe she remembered every slight. If he didn't know better he'd have thought she had some sort of tape recorder in her head and she was rewinding the tape to remember all this in such detail. He concentrated on that rather than on what she was saying. It was much easier for him than to listen to her list everything he'd done to hurt her.
Then he realised she'd stopped. He looked up. She did not look pleased. "Stop that!"
"Stop what?"
"Stop talking about me in your head. I know you're doing it."
How the hell did she do that? he wondered. How could she have known?
"You're doing it again!"
"What am I supposed to do? I mean, how do you remember all that? All those details?"
"They aren't details, Harry. I remember what's important. Everything we've said to each other is important to me."
Harry looked away. He wanted to get out of here, but she was blocking his only means of escape. He couldn't remember ever feeling this terrible about the things he'd done. He wanted to tell her he hadn't meant them… that they'd just happened, but he didn't think she was going to buy that excuse in her current mood.
"Weren't the same things important to you, Harry?"
Just when he thought things couldn't possibly get any worse…
"Damn it, why don't you trust me?"
His head snapped up. "Trust you?!"
"Yes, Harry, trust me. You didn't trust me enough to tell me what was hurting you. You were going to try to keep all this from me. And you'd promised…"
So she was back on that again, was she? He knew he had to answer her soon. He could tell their future together was hanging by the thinnest of threads now, and it wasn't going to take much at all to snap it. But wasn't that what he'd wanted? To push her away? He didn't know anymore. At the moment he felt like he needed her more than ever. But it wasn't exactly the right time to ask anything of her. Not after all he'd done to her. By all rights she should hate him now…
She was looking through him again, knowing he was holding another internal dialogue with himself. "What are you thinking?" she asked.
He knew he had to tell her. "I'm wondering why you don't hate me." He felt stupid the moment the words were out.
"Because I love you, you stupid prat. Although at the moment, I'm not too sure why."
Harry couldn't say anything to this. He was still trying to get his mind around the concept. After all he'd done--and her list of grievances had been long and legitimate, even if he hadn't admitted it aloud--she still loved him.
Ginny was shaking her head slowly. "Harry, don't you see? I have loved you ever since I was ten. The nature of my feelings may have changed over the past seven years, but I can honestly say I've loved you all that time. And I've only had reason to hope you might feel the same way for the past year. Don't you think if I could have stopped in those first six years, I would have? Don't you see? I can't stop. I don't think I'll ever stop."
Harry stared up at the ceiling. He was going to lose it very soon if she didn't stop telling him this. But she wasn't finished. "I told you that time in the hospital wing… the day you told us about losing your powers… I told you I understood what you were doing. You're still doing it. You've been trying to push me away, and I understand why, even if I don't like it. You wanted to make me hate you so you wouldn't hurt me when you left. But that's not how it works. I meant what I said before. I will follow you anywhere you decide to go."
She stopped there, and Harry knew what he had to say to her. He just wasn't sure he'd be able to. He had to swallow very hard to get any words to come out. "I was trying to spare you pain, and in the end all I did was cause you more…"
"Yes, Harry, you did."
"I'm… I'm sorry… I know that doesn't begin to cover it…" He couldn't go on. He was on the very brink now, and he made a valiant effort to hold himself back.
But her next words were his undoing. "I'm not going to forget what you've done, but I understand, and I forgive you."
He had to turn away. He couldn't continue to stand in the light of her love. He was unworthy. But he felt her hands on him. Softly they turned him back to her and cradled his face. "Don't be afraid, Harry," she said gently. "Don't ever be afraid to let go with me."
He found himself completely enveloped in a warm embrace, and the dam burst at last. As had happened the day he woke up in the hospital wing, he buried his face against her and allowed himself release. After a long time, he pulled back from her, spent. They'd both sunk to the floor together. Her eyes were red-rimmed as his surely must be.
"You're not alone, Harry," she said quietly. "You don't have to go through this alone. You can always come to me, and if you can't come to me, go to someone. Please. I think you should talk to Professor Lupin."
"How? He's gone to help Sirius."
"Send him an owl…"
"I, erm, sort of did something to make Hedwig mad at me, too."
"Send Pigwidgeon, then. Just write to him, please."
He knew she was right, and he nodded. "I don't deserve you, you know that?"
She smiled slightly at that. "I don't suppose you do, but there's not a whole lot we can do about that, is there?" She reached up and ran a hand through his hair. "Harry… What have you done?"
Unconsciously he glanced towards the sink where he'd tossed the towel full of clippings. She followed his gaze. He tried to shrug it off. "Thought I needed a hair cut. It's not that bad, is it?"
His worst fears were confirmed when she didn't reply. She leaned closer and began inspecting a bit more carefully. "It's not a complete loss," she said after a while. "I think I might be able to salvage it. It's going to be a bit short, mind you."
"Since when do you know how to cut hair?"
"Since when do you?" she returned, and it dawned on him how pleasant it was to hold a nearly normal conversation with her. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed it. It now struck him just how much he'd missed over the past weeks: closeness, kisses, touches… he wanted it back; he wanted her back. "I can hardly do a worse job than you have. Besides, Mum taught me how."
"She did?"
"Yeah. She used to do all the boys." Harry remembered Mrs Weasley needling Bill about his long hair, and realised she'd been perfectly serious about giving him a hair cut. "With so many of us, it was more practical that way. And, well, she showed me how. I used to practice on my dolls. Mum knew a charm that made their hair grow back, so I've had lots of practice. I've even done Ron's hair a time or two… when he'd let me, that is. Not since he started Hogwarts," she added, noting Harry's look of disbelief. She got to her feet and extended a hand to Harry. "Come on."
He let her pull him up. "Where are we going?"
She picked up the shears he'd left lying out and took a clean towel. "My room. We'll clean up in here later."
"Erm, Gin… I'm going to need your help, I think…"
"What? Cleaning up the mess you made in Ron's room? Yeah, I saw. But Mum's going to be out running errands all afternoon, and Ron and Hermione have gone into the village. No one will have to know about it."
"Thanks."
They climbed the stairs to Ginny's room together, while Harry thought about the irony of the situation. Here they were with the entire house to themselves for the better part of the day, Ginny had just invited him up to her room, and he wasn't sure if he even dared kiss her. It wasn't that he was afraid to; it was more that it didn't seem right. He'd treated her abominably. He didn't feel comfortable making the first move.
Once she had him seated in her room, the towel draped around his shoulders he felt even less comfortable, but for a different reason. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy the sensation of her running her fingers through his hair as she lifted the locks and trimmed them off evenly. He enjoyed it rather more than he suspected he ought to. It was another reminder of how much he'd missed touching her and having her touch him. It didn't help matters when she finished and began brushing stray hairs from the back of his neck. She was doing it perfunctorily enough, but he couldn't help feeling a shiver pass through him at the contact.
At last she stepped back, and he stood up quickly, making a show of going to look in the mirror to hide the awkward feelings she was arousing in him. She'd been right… She did know what she was doing. His hair was much shorter than it had been, but it didn't look all that bad, really…
"Harry," her voice came from behind him. "Don't you want to take this back up to Ron's room with you?"
He turned to see her holding his Firebolt. "No, Ginny, I want you to have that."
"I can't take this from you."
"I can't use it. You might as well have it. Maybe you can make the Quidditch team this year."
"Harry, I…"
"Please, Ginny, keep it. I think flying is going to be what I miss most of all, but if I can't fly on it, I want you to be able to."
She relented at that. He thought she turned away rather quickly at his words and gave an audible sniff. He reached out and laid a hand on her shoulder, and she came into his arms and let him hold her. As long as he could stay like this with her, he thought, he could convince himself that everything was going to be all right.
She pulled back from him, and the temptation to lean in and kiss her became more and more difficult to resist. "Maybe…" he began, trying to hold to his resolve, "maybe we ought to see about that mess."
"Wait, Harry." She was fumbling in her pocket. "I almost forgot. You left this lying on the kitchen table. Don't you even want to know how you did?"
She was holding out the envelope with his NEWT results. Harry still didn't know what possible difference this was going to make in his life, but he took the envelope from her in spite of this and broke the seal. He unfolded the parchment, and as he read it over, he could feel his jaw literally drop. He'd done far, far better than he'd ever expected. Certainly not as well as Hermione, but still…
"What is it?" Ginny asked him curiously.
He couldn't speak. He handed her the parchment so that she could see for herself. "Wow, Harry… These are… They're amazing."
"Yeah, aren't they? I still can't believe Snape…"
"You could get a Ministry position with these marks, Harry."
"Ginny, don't. Please don't ruin it."
"I'm serious, Harry. There are lots of positions that don't require any sort of magic really." Harry wanted to protest, but she held up a hand. "Now just hear me out. No, they're not the most exciting jobs in the world, but you'll be able to remain part of the magical world. That's what you want, isn't it?"
That was just Harry's problem. He didn't know what he wanted. He hadn't had a clear idea before he'd gone and faced Voldemort, and he certainly didn't have one now. He knew he wasn't really qualified to take on anything in the Muggle world, in any case; he'd never been happy there. And Ginny was part of the magical world. Perhaps he owed it to her to try. "I suppose…"
"You can give it a try, can't you?"
"I guess…"
"Harry you're shutting me out again…"
"I'm sorry. I just don't know… I'll think about it, all right?"
She hesitated, unsure for a moment, and then took a deep breath. Taking a step closer, she put her hands on his shoulders and looked into his eyes. "Harry I need you to know something. I love you. You. Not your magical ability, but you, Harry." Then she brought his face down so she could kiss him tenderly and far too briefly.
He reached up and touched his lips, surprised. He hadn't expected her to do that after all the anger she'd demonstrated to him today. He felt as if he was never going to understand her.
"Come on," she said taking his hand. "We've got a mess to clean up." And she led him out of the room and up the stairs.
A/N: Once again this chapter would not have been possible without Marian's support, and basically feeding me dialogue… Happy Birthday, dear! Thanks also to my betas… And thanks to all who have reviewed. I'm astounded at the response. I'm hoping to be able to lighten things up for a bit after this chapter.
Chapter 4