Chapter 73 - More’s the Pity
No matter how hard he had tried, Harry couldn’t stop himself from being depressed as the days towards Ginny’s leaving approached. Things had been fantastic between them. He had achieved a level of intimacy with her that did not violate the trust they shared, but made him feel comfortable knowing she was his, forever. Though they did nothing more than fall asleep in the sitting room together, Harry still felt closer to her and more secure in their relationship than ever.
The day she left Harry felt like his whole body was being shattered. It brought back that same feeling he’d had right before Voldemort had killed him, and again, his last thought was of Ginny. She had tried to be brave for him, try to hide her sadness, but she wore it as plainly as he had. He knew he’d chide himself later for brooding in the car, but he was feeling claustrophobic being so near her and knowing she was going to be so far away. It was like he was watching things from afar and had no control of the outcome.
It wasn’t until she started to walk away that he’d been jolted from his trance-like state. The only thing he wanted was to have her with him for the rest of time, but she wanted to go back to school and it would be selfish of him to stand in her way. He grabbed her suddenly and kissed her fiercely, as if this would stop her from leaving.
He could still taste her on his lips, but the smell, the smell was fading. He knew Kreacher would hate it, but he’d probably be spending a good amount of time in her room in the future. He kept thinking about that final kiss and the feel of her hands on his face. Her hands were so small, yet they had provided the most critical comfort in the hardest of times.
Ron had dragged him out of the train station. ‘Harry! Bloody hell, I thought you were going to jump her right there!’
Harry pushed Ron of off him and replied angrily, ‘Don’t be so rude, Ron. I’d never do that and you bloody well know it.’
Ron took a step back, shaking his head. ‘You’d better watch it Harry. You’re both looking like you’re prone to doing something you shouldn’t.’
Harry glared at him. ‘This coming from you? Please, like you haven’t been more inappropriate to Hermione!’
Ron balked. ‘I have not!’
Ron looked at the ground and Harry knew he was guilty. He grabbed Ron roughly. ‘What did you do to her?’
Ron pulled out of Harry’s grasp easily. ‘Nothing! Not that it’s any of your business! I may have…suggested something…but she was not for it at all.’
Harry groaned. ‘Ginny’s right, you are a rubbish boyfriend.’
Ron looked indignant and Harry continued, a little more calmly, ‘Never - you should never force something like that. If they want to do something more, you’ll know.’
‘Really,’ Ron replied acidly. ‘Did you learn that while you were holed up with my sister for weeks on end?’
Harry’s anger returned quickly. ‘Shut up, Ron. I didn’t do anything more than snog her and massage her ankle. We were always dressed.’
Ron sighed. ‘Sure, I’ll ask her myself sometime.’
Harry shook his head. ‘You are such a prat.’
Ron laughed. ‘It’s my baby sister, what do you want me to do? Encourage you to fondle her in front of me?’
Harry grimaced. ‘You’re disgusting, you know that?’
Ron laughed. ‘Want to get something to eat?’
Harry shook his head. ‘Not hungry.’
Ron rolled his eyes. ‘Pathetic. Come on, Harry. If you lose all this weight because you’re depressed, she’ll be really cross with you.’
Harry sighed. The thought of Ginny being angry with him for any reason was enough for him to not do something offending. He followed Ron into Diagon Alley, meeting George on the way there. They headed over to The Leaky Cauldron. George ordered a variety of drinks, in hopes of helping Harry drink away his sorrows, but Harry didn’t partake, knowing should Ginny find out that he had drunk himself into a stupor over her leaving, she’d kill him.
He listened quietly as George went over what Ron had missed by going to the train station. Through mouthfuls, George said, ‘Well, Percy came by, said some weird things were going on.’ He looked over at Harry. ‘Might interest you to know Percy’s gone back to the Ministry.’
Harry nodded, trying to look interested. ‘Really?’
Ron rolled his eyes. ‘This brooding has got to stop.’
‘Leave me alone,’ Harry said bitterly.
George rolled his eyes. ‘Anyway, he told me something I thought you might like to know…you know, the Ministry used to use Dementors to keep prisoners under control? Well, since Voldemort came along, we can’t trust ‘em at all. So they’ve been let go, but they’re roaming around. Most times they’re attacking Muggles. So a new task force has been put together to keep an eye on them. Seems that some of the wizards they’d given a kiss to are not quite as hollow and empty as we might think.’
Harry nodded, but Ron was actually listening and asked, ‘What the bloody hell does that have to do with anything?’
George waved a hand in front of Harry’s face to make sure he was paying attention. ‘Criminals are on the loss, that’s what I’m telling you. Merlin, Ron, you’re thick! So Gaunt might need you back, Harry.’
That was the last thing on Harry’s mind. He nodded and said quietly, ‘I don’t think I’ll be getting any owls from the Ministry again.’
George leaned across the table and said in a conspiratorial tone, ‘We’re not stupid, Harry. We know you’re doing something for them, can’t we help you?’
Harry shook his head defiantly, his training kicking in. ‘You’re wrong. Gaunt fired me. End of story.’
George sighed and sat back down. ‘Have it your way…but we could help…despite what you might think.’
Harry made no response, his face going stoic. Ron nudged George. ‘Great, now he’s going catatonic.’
Harry shook his head. ‘Ron, stop being such a prat. I came out here with you, didn’t I?’
Ron looked angrily at Harry. ‘Lucky us! To be graced by your very presence! The ‘great’ Harry Potter. You’re really full of yourself.’
Harry balked, his eyes blazing. George put a hand up quickly. ‘Both of you stop it. Ron, leave Harry alone. If he wants to brood over Ginny, fine. Harry, stop being so sensitive. She’s going to come back and then she can make you crazy for years and year on end. Ron, you still owe me from the bet I won. I’m just glad Harry didn’t compromise our dear sister, though I doubt she would have allowed it.’
Harry shot him a tired look. ‘I didn’t put any moves on your sister. Her ankle was too sore to do much anyway.’
George gave Harry a confused look. ‘Maybe I’m doing things wrong, but now I have to ask, what has her ankle got to do with anything?’
Harry gave George a withering look which was met with hearty laughter. He got up. ‘Enough. I’ll see you both later.’
George tried to control himself. ‘Come on, Harry, I was just joking!’
Harry didn’t bother staying to hear the rest. He headed back to Grimmauld Place. Kreacher was with him in a moment and Harry didn’t know what to say to him. Kreacher bustled him into the kitchen, serving tea. ‘Master Harry, Mistress will not like that you’ve grown so depressed.’
Harry sat down heavily at the table, flipping through the countless files he’d ignored since Ginny arrived. Kreacher nodded approvingly, seeing him take some interest. The comment George had made rung in Harry’s mind, but he couldn’t recall why. The story about the Dementors was in one of the files, and Harry was instructed to ignore them, but fend them off should they attack. The idea of conjuring a Patronus brought Ginny back to mind. Now he had a variety of memories to choose from that brought him a limitless amount of happiness.
He smiled, just the thought of their stolen moments in Grimmauld Place were enough to make him smile effortlessly. He shook his head, thinking back to all the pointless arguments they’d had before. He knew they’d have more again, but there was a foundation for their future. He knew, now more than ever, he’d be with Ginny for as long as she could stand him.
As he continued to sift through the files he noticed one name that came up on a few of them. He’d never noticed it before, so he asked Kreacher to bring some of the older files over. He spread them out across the table, flipping to specific pages. He sat down, dumbfounded. Right in front of him was the proof that Hermione had been after. In virtually every file, there was a vague mention of Hogwarts. Most of the references were to suspected magical artefacts, but the fact was, he may not have been off-base saying people were there looking for something.
He called his owl over, still nameless and not liking it. He jotted a quick note to Hermione, adding at the bottom to give his love to Ginny, about what he’d found. It still didn’t amount to much, but it was something. He was about to the send the owl, but stopped. He pulled another piece of parchment out and wrote a quick note to Ginny, apologising for being so brutish earlier and telling her he missed her terribly. He sighed heavily and the owl hooted at him, impatient to be off. He petted her and said, ‘I’m jealous you get to see her.’
He gave her both letters, knowing Ginny and Hermione would be together and watched as the owl flew off. He continued to pour over the files, wondering what else there was that might be of note. He went over the stories Hermione and Ginny had told him, looking for some factor that would string everything together, but nothing came to the forefront of his mind.
The incidents with Malfoy seemed overly coincidental. It was too perfect that he would show up all those times to ‘save’ Hermione; and why always Hermione and never Ginny? Harry sat at the table for some time, trying to figure out what possible motive Malfoy could have and the only one that made sense was the one that was true for Malfoy through all his years at Hogwarts: to kill Hermione.
The more Harry thought about it the more he realised that Malfoy had hated Hermione from the moment he laid eyes on her. In his second year, Malfoy had taunted Hermione when he thought the heir of Slytherin would come and kill her since she wasn’t a pure-blood. He showed no remorse when she was petrified. And the very next year Hermione had punched Malfoy, something Harry had no doubt still bothered him.
A slight sense of panic took Harry, but he calmed himself, knowing Ginny would be with Hermione, and she didn’t trust Malfoy at all. He set the notes down, and took the file he used to communicate with Gaunt out. He started to write, but stopped, uncertain of what he should be asking. He hadn’t spoken with Gaunt since early December and wondered how much trouble he’d be in for taking a holiday from his double-life. He took a deep breath and wrote a quick note, asking him about where they stood and letting him know about what he’d discovered about Hogwarts.
He waited a few minutes, but after getting no reply, collected the files and headed for the sitting room. As Harry walked the now-silent hallways, he felt a stab of sadness, again wishing Ginny had stayed. He pushed the door open to the sitting room and the first thing he noticed was how much it reminded him of his time with Ginny; the couch they’d spent countless hours on, the area near the fireplace where he’d finally attached her speed booster on properly, the chair where she fell asleep with her feet in his lap on the floor. The more he thought about it the more Harry laughed, thinking Ginny got more sleep than anything while there.
He set the papers down and referenced Gaunt’s file once more before heading to his room. Kreacher had been kind enough to find a few more recent pictures of them together; the most memorable Harry kept in his own room on his night stand. He headed up the stairs slowly, uncertain of what to look forward to on the following day. The Hogsmeade visit felt like it was years, and not only weeks, away. He walked past Ginny’s room but stopped, turning and going back. He looked around, as if someone were watching him, and slowly pushed the door open.
The room was exactly as Ginny had left it, save that Kreacher had tidied things up, ever so slightly. The bed had been remade and the curtains had been pulled shut. Throughout the Christmas holiday Ginny had continued to do the little things and Kreacher had continued to do them again. It was an amusing battle to watch for Harry; Ginny, with her powerful personality, and Kreacher, with his stubbornness, arguing about the silliest of things. Ginny wanted to be self-sufficient and Kreacher wanted to serve her.
Harry knew Kreacher wouldn’t bother him about being in Ginny’s room now, there was no need. She wasn’t there. He flicked his wand at her light-switch and walked around the room, stopping and looking at the pictures she’d chosen for her room here. There were a few from Bill’s wedding the previous year. He dejectedly remembered being undercover then, and was not looking like himself. And after the kiss she’d given him, Ron had made it clear that Harry should stay away from her. It was a promise Harry was loathe to keep, but he kept it nonetheless.
The picture of Hermione and Ginny from the wedding was one Harry loved. They both looked like they were having a fantastic time. Even then Ron hadn’t admitted how he felt about Hermione, but there was no doubt that their constant dancing had to mean something. And Ginny had looked just amazing. No matter what any of her relations said, Ginny was the beauty of the family. Harry laughed to himself, thinking how little that would change once they were together. She certainly had both the looks and the smarts, Harry often wondered what she saw in him, but he wouldn’t question her devotion, as he hoped she wouldn’t question his.
He sat down heavily on her bed, being careful to keep his trainers off of the covers. He knew she liked to have things clean, something Kreacher had told him he needed to be more aware of. The bed smelled intoxicating. Harry picked up one of the decorative yellow pillows and smelled it. It smelled like Ginny. The whole room smelled like her and it was more comfort than he could hope for. As if out of nowhere, he had a sudden feeling of euphoria, but a few moments later, it was gone again.
He knew he couldn’t sleep in her room, but the thought kept creeping up. He forced himself to get up, looking at the pictures once more before turning the lights off and leaving the room. As he shut the door he tried to force himself to stop thinking about her as if she were gone for good. He would see her again, and it wouldn’t be like the last break they’d had. He’d be wherever he needed to be and he’d be there on time and stay as long as he could. There was no greater priority to him than Ginny.
He had left his door open and trudged through it to find his room organised and clean. He had spent a good amount of that morning trying to find something nice to wear, but ended up with familiar clothes. The makeover had gone well and although Harry liked being comfortable, he knew Ginny liked it when he looked nice. He pulled his trainers of and set them in his closet. He undressed and grabbed his bathrobe to head into the shower; despite it being January, Harry suddenly felt the need for a cold shower.
When Harry was done using the washroom, he emerged from it to find a cup of tea waiting on his night table; along with a short note. Harry turned it over in his hands and noted the handwriting immediately. He wondered how quickly his owl had gotten to Hogwarts and realised, as he began to read, that Ginny had written this before she left.
Harry,
I hope you’re not still brooding since the last time I saw you. This was one of the most memorable Christmases I’ve ever had. I know we’ve had our rough moments, but I know, really know, that we’re going to be together for as long as we can stand one another.
I always knew I’d fall in love with a man who loved me and I’m so thankful it was you. You may have seemed like a distant hero when I was just a child, but now I know you’re so much more.
Please don’t worry yourself about me, I know you can’t help it, but I thought I’d say it just the same. I’m going to stay safe; I’ve got Hermione, which is more than I can say for you. Just promise me that you’ll stay safe, I want to have all of you, not just pieces.
I’m missing you already.
Yours Always,
Ginny
Harry sighed. She put it in writing that she loved him. It warmed him from the inside. The more he thought about it, the more he realised he was really getting warm. The ring was pushing heat out across his body, making him feel a wave of heat even when the house was rather cool. He read the letter again, hoping his letter would get to her soon. He sipped the tea and stared longingly at the one picture he had on his night table. It was the night he’d told her that he loved her, and she’d told him she loved him. There in the streets of London, wrapped in each other’s arms with snow falling, the picture captured their moment together.