Starting Over - Chapter 10
Title: Starting Over
Chapter: 10 of 11 Intervention
Author: serendipity_50
Pairing: H/G
Rating: PG-13 (Brief references to sex, minor profanity)
Word Count this chapter: about 5000
Era: Post-DH Pre-Epilogue
Disclaimer: The characters belong to JK Rowling. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment only.
Author's Notes: Thanks to beta ClaraMinutes. Special thanks to minisinoo for her insight, expertise, and awesome suggestions for making this story better. Also, great appreciation to Ashwinder for her short-notice beta help with the final rewrite. Concrit welcome.
Story Summary: Harry and Ginny lived happily ever after...eventually. After the war, things didn't go as easily as they should have.
Chapter Summary: Harry and Ginny seem to be drifting further apart-can this relationship be saved?
“Ron, how many times do I have to tell you I just can’t?”
Harry leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers under his glasses to rub his bloodshot eyes. They’d had this conversation every afternoon for the past week.
“Oh, come on. Mum’s decided you’re mad at her.”
Harry stretched over the back of his chair to work the kinks out of his shoulders and laced his fingers behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. He huffed out a breath and gestured with his elbow at the foot-high stack of parchment on his desk.
“I’m not mad at her. I just can’t go with all this work to be done. By next week, I’ll be caught up and I’ll come to supper. But I can’t come this week.”
Of course, Harry wasn’t about to admit that next week would be after the first of September, and he’d be free to go to The Burrow every night if they’d have him. But until Ginny left for school, he wasn’t going anywhere near the Weasley home, and his “detention” at work gave him the perfect excuse.
“Bollocks!” Ron said, furrowing his brow in frustration. “No one expects you to work till midnight every night on this stuff. And even if they did, they can’t deny you a supper break.”
Harry closed his eyes. “I don’t stay until midnight every night.”
Ron snorted in disbelief.
“I left at half eleven last night.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “I know why you’re doing this.”
Harry lazily lifted his head and cocked a questioning eyebrow at Ron.
“You’re avoiding Ginny.”
Harry dropped his head back to face the ceiling again and sighed heavily. “I’m doing it because I have work to do.” They’d had this conversation several times as well.
“Yeah. Right.” Ron clearly didn’t believe him.
They sat in silent standoff for several moments. With his eyes still on the ceiling, Harry finally broke the silence.
“So-how is she?” He kept his voice carefully casual.
Ron was quiet for so long that Harry wondered if he was going to answer, but didn’t dare look to find out. He started breathing again when Ron finally spoke.
“She’s all right, considering. Has good days and bad days. She’s coming in to the shop in the mornings. The first day was tough, but she forced herself to get through it. The second day, some reporter from Witch Weekly came in and she kind of lost it-I thought sure she wouldn’t come back, but she’s determined. Says she doesn’t want to let Greyback steal any more of her life.” Ron grew quiet again.
Harry dropped his arms and leaned onto the desk. He picked up his quill and rolled the shaft between his fingers, keeping his eyes on the spinning feather. “Want me to see if I can get an Auror posted outside to keep the reporters away?”
“Nah, George charmed the door. Anyone coming in with a camera or Quick Quotes Quill gets Confunded and their hair turns purple so we can identify them. After Tuesday, I’m sure word’s got around and we won’t have any more trouble.”
Harry smiled at the twirling quill, thinking of what the reporter had probably suffered at the hands of George and Ron.
“I’m glad she’s doing better,” he said after a moment.
Ron leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Well, better doesn't mean great. We still catch her staring into space a lot, and she won’t go anywhere but the house and the shop. But she is getting better about having people around. She seems to feel more comfortable when it’s just family, though. George says we just need to give her some time.”
“Yeah, I imagine so,” Harry said.
“Of course, that git Thomas is still coming ’round,” Ron said. Harry’s heart lurched, but he managed to keep his expression blank. “She won’t go for ice cream with him, but she doesn’t run him off, either. I’d like to punch him. If he hadn’t taken her off that day-”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Harry said, finally looking at Ron. “Greyback wanted her. It wouldn’t have mattered who she was with.”
“Why are you defending him?” Ron looked puzzled and angry. His voice raised a notch. “She doesn’t belong with him-”
Harry spoke sharply. “Let it go, Ron. If he makes her happy, let her be.”
“Ah, come on, Harry. I saw the way she looked when you were dancing with her-the way the two of you looked-”
“I said let it go,” Harry said in a flat voice as he pulled a sheet from the stack of parchment. “I need to get back to work.”
Ron threw his hands in the air and gave a growl of frustration. Harry pointedly ignored him and pretended to read the form in front of him.
“What happened?” Ron finally asked quietly.
Harry didn’t bother to look up. This line of questioning was getting old, too. “Nothing happened.”
“Harry, I’m your best mate. You can tell me. I swear, I won’t breathe a word to anyone. Not even Hermione-especially not Hermione.”
Harry pretended to read for a few beats, then released a sigh of defeat and leaned his arms on the desk, giving Ron a serious look. “You promise? You won’t tell a soul?”
Ron nodded eagerly.
“Okay. Well-” Harry took a deep breath. “You promise, right?”
“Yeah, I promise. What happened?”
“Well… are you sure?”
“Harry!”
“Okay, okay. Here goes… You see, we danced and-and then-well, then-I left.” Harry sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Ron’s reaction.
Ron dropped his head into his hands. “You’re making me mental.”
“You were already mental.”
Ron threw a piece of wadded parchment at him. “Come on, Harry! Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. Now, get out of here. I need to get back to work before Robards jumps me again.”
Ron studied him for a moment before pushing his lanky limbs from his chair. “All right, I’ll go. But you’re coming to The Burrow tomorrow. It’s Saturday and I know you don’t have to work weekends.”
“I can’t.”
Ron eyed him skeptically. “You can’t. What’s your lame excuse this time?”
Harry dropped his eyes and the volume of his voice. “I have a date.”
Ron’s jaw dropped before he exploded. “You have a what?”
“A date. You know-you take a girl out… have a good time… You should try it sometime.”
Ron stared at him, a variety of emotions flashing across his face. “A date. With who?”
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Daphne.”
Ron flopped back into his seat. “Please tell me you didn’t say that. Bloody hell, Harry, why in the world would you go out with her? Rita Skeeter’s going to be all over you.”
“Rita’s already all over me. Going out with Daphne isn’t going to make it any worse.”
“But, why? Why would you do that?”
Harry shrugged. “She asked. She’s got some party to go to. Said she didn’t want to go alone. I didn’t have a good reason to say no.” He didn’t add that he did have several good reasons to say yes.
“I can think of about a dozen reasons to say no,” Ron sneered, “starting with the fact that you don’t like her-”
“She’s okay,” Harry said defiantly.
“-and ending with the fact that she’s as annoying as Gilderoy Lockhart at an autograph party.”
“No, she’s-” Harry couldn’t continue his protest as he fought back a grin.
“See! You think so, too.”
“No,” Harry said, working to compose his expression. “No, I don’t. She can be quite-entertaining…”
“Yeah, ’cause she’s loonier than a Lovegood-”
“-and she’s nice looking-”
“-well, yeah, she’s gorgeous, but-”
“-and we have our career in common.”
Ron appeared to be considering Harry’s last argument for a moment.
“So-who are you trying to convince?”
Before Harry could respond, Ron stood. “Never mind, I reckon I can work that one out.” He gave Harry a friendly punch in the arm. “You have fun with your paperwork. I’ll tell Mum you’ll come ’round next week.”
Harry watched him go with a mixture of relief and irritation. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out against Ron’s insistent interrogation. And Hermione was even worse. She had showed up at his desk several times for the same purpose, though her questions were less direct and required a bit more mental agility to dodge. In short, they were sapping his already flagging energy and would eventually wear him down. He only hoped he could put them off until Ginny was gone, so they didn’t do something stupid.
He turned back to processing his reports and thought longingly of the weekend ahead. After a long flight on his broom to clear his head, he was going to spend it just as he had spent the past two weekends-alone in bed. With Kreacher posted as guard (mostly from Ron), he just wanted to lie on his back and stare at the ceiling, recouping the enormous amounts of energy required to maintain his façade of normality during the never-ending week.
Of course, he’d also have to get through Saturday evening with Daphne, but he’d decided that was a fortuitous opportunity he couldn’t pass up. He knew she wanted him only for the celebrity factor and, as long as she understood his intentions (or lack thereof), he was willing to oblige her as a way to keep his public pretense intact. No doubt, she would see to it that Rita helped perpetuate the ruse with a story in Sunday’s Prophet, but that also fit perfectly with his plan to let the world believe in the myth of their growing relationship. It was the best way he could think of to protect Ginny. If the media ever suspected his true feelings, they would be all over her and she didn’t need that kind of attention-especially now. From the sound of it, she’d had all she could handle since her abduction. With luck, this move would give the vultures something else to chew on and draw media attention away from her altogether.
He knew he wasn’t fooling Ron and Hermione, but he might get away with fooling the rest of the world. And maybe, by going through the motions, he could eventually fool himself.
***
Ginny stared off into space as she sat hugging her knees to her chest in her usual spot on the garden bench. Over the past week, she’d perched here every afternoon after work, spending time in her “safe place” to build up her reserves for the next day. Today was just a bit different. She’d had to maintain her composure only during Sunday lunch with family, and she was able to relax a bit more than usual since she didn’t have to guard her secrets from them like she did with the customers at the shop. Well, most of her secrets…
“Hi.”
Ginny pulled herself from her thoughts. She looked blankly at Hermione for a moment before remembering that she needed to respond.
“Oh, um, hi.”
“Mind if I join you?”
Yes, Ginny thought irritably, but forced herself into “normal” mode and put her feet on the ground to make room on the bench.
Hermione took her seat and looked across the garden. Ginny sank back into her reverie as they sat quietly for a few moments. Hermione tentatively broke the silence. “Ron said you had a pretty good week at the shop.”
That was a bit of an overstatement. Facing customers had been a struggle, but she’d managed to stiffen her spine and get through it. Ginny shrugged. “It was okay. Except for the scene with the reporter. I didn’t handle that very well.”
“You shouldn’t have to handle it at all. They have no right to bother you when you’re working.”
Ginny grimaced. “I don’t want them to bother me at home either. That lot in the field across the road are driving me round the bend.”
“Have you considered giving an interview?” Hermione asked, eyeing her carefully. At Ginny’s look of horror she quickly continued. “It doesn’t have to be like that. Not all of them are completely horrible. Ron and I know a couple that would handle it properly. And it might make the rest of them back off a bit.”
Ginny squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered. “I couldn’t-I can’t even talk about it to family. How could I talk to a stranger who would print it all in the paper? Look what they did before-look what they do to you and Ron and-” Ginny stared off across the garden and her voice dropped to a whisper. “-and Harry.”
Hermione sighed. “You saw the paper this morning.”
With Hermione watching her so closely, Ginny had to work extra hard to keep her expression blank. Summoning the strength to sound calm, she took a deep breath so she could get it all out quickly.
“It’s not like I didn’t know it was coming. I heard you and Ron whispering about it last night. And, besides, I know he’s dating her and I know it’s not the last picture of him I’ll see in some newspaper or magazine with her or somebody else. I’m over it. Let it go.”
Of course, she was lying. Even though she’d known it was coming, seeing the picture of Harry and Daphne entering the swanky restaurant had been painful. She knew she had to get used to it. Harry thought of her only as another member of the Weasley family. Rita Skeeter’s interview with him after Greyback was captured had driven that truth home-the words were burned into Ginny's memory:
...I asked Harry why he would risk his life and career for Miss Weasley, whom he dated briefly during his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Is there more to their relationship than he’s letting on?
“The Weasleys have been my surrogate family for seven years,” Mr. Potter said solemnly. “I’d do the same for any of them.”
So I asked if his relationship with fellow Auror trainee Daphne Darling has changed.
“Not a bit,” he said with a wink.
“I’m just worried about you, Ginny.” Hermione’s voice snapped her back to the present. “I know something happened at your party that you won’t talk about. I just want to help.”
Ginny heaved a breath of frustration. She was tired of everyone asking her about this. “Nothing happened.”
“Something happened. I saw you dancing and then he was gone. You were a mess afterward.”
Ginny counted to ten before answering through gritted teeth. “Did you ever stop to think that the fact that nothing happened is the problem? I told you that months ago. Nothing is ever going to happen between Harry and me. Ever. It’s over. Finished. Period. And, the quicker I accept that fact and move on with my life the better off everyone will be.”
Hermione dropped her head and played with her fingers in her lap. She chewed her lip as if considering an appropriate response.
Ginny softened her expression and touched Hermione’s arm. “It’s okay. Really. I’ll be fine. I leave for school in two days and everything will be fine.”
She didn’t really believe what she was saying, but she hoped by trying to convince Hermione and her family, she might eventually begin to believe it herself. She’d have to keep going through the motions until she could get back to the person she used to be.
Hermione’s frown deepened. “Are you really ready to go back to school? I’m sure McGonagall would let you wait a bit-”
“No, I need to go. I’m Head Girl.” She wasn’t sure she sounded as confident as she wanted to be.
Ginny had hoped being away at school, getting back into her old routine, might make things easier. But working in the shop this week had given her a glimpse of what she could expect when she went back to Hogwarts-she had been only too aware of the curious looks and whispered remarks. She knew she would be spending a lot of time-at least at first-in her “safe haven” (the memory of her birthday dance had become her favorite retreat). And without her family around for support, she was going to have to rely heavily on the two friends she knew she could trust.
Much to Ginny’s dismay, Hermione couldn’t seem to stop voicing her concern. “But, it’s going to be hard, isn’t it, without anyone who knows-”
“Dean will be there. I know I can count on him. And Luna. She doesn’t know all the details, but she understands.”
Hermione stood abruptly and began pacing in a tight circle. “Yes, Dean’s going back, isn’t he? I forgot.” She stopped and gave Ginny a look of alarm. “You’re not thinking of-of dating him, are you?”
Ginny studied her quizzically for a moment. “I’m not thinking about dating anyone. I’ve had a few other things on my mind. Dean’s a good friend.”
Relief washed over Hermione’s face. “Of course. That was silly of me to even-”
“But, I suppose it would make sense-” Ginny said thoughtfully “-after all we’ve been through together, I mean. He’s been so good to me this summer, in spite of everything. I just keep thinking I ought to be able to feel more for him. He’s really kind. And patient. He told me he’d like to give it another go, but he doesn’t push me or expect more than I can give. It almost seems wrong not to give it a try.”
Hermione sat down, the concern back in her eyes. “No, wait! I wasn’t suggesting it. I mean, don’t you still have feelings for-”
Ginny’s anger flared. “It doesn’t matter about my feelings, Hermione. I already told you that a dozen times.”
“But, Ginny, is that fair to Dean when you both know he’s-well, second choice?”
Ginny pushed herself from the bench and leaned her shoulder against the tree as she watched the shadow of a cloud pass over the orchard. “He said he wouldn’t mind-he’s very understanding about it.” She closed her eyes and laid her temple against the trunk. “How do you know when you love somebody? How did you know you were in love with Ron?”
A couple of minutes passed before Hermione answered in a dreamy voice. “I don’t really know. It just kind of grew over time. First year, when he sacrificed himself during that chess game, I knew something was there-I just didn’t know what it was. I guess I started suspecting when we fought about Viktor taking me to the Yule Ball fourth year. Then when he spent the first part of sixth year attached to Lavender Brown’s face, among other things, I finally knew for sure. I guess if I had to give a specific reason, it’s because he keeps me thinking. He balances me-keeps me from becoming a total swot.” Ginny couldn’t help but smile at that. Hermione’s voice grew sad. “When he left us-Harry and me-last year, I thought I’d never see him again. I didn’t know how I was going to go on. I just know now that I can’t ever let him go.”
She looked at Ginny. “So, to answer your question, I guess you just have to listen to your heart. You just know when it’s there. If you have to wonder, then it’s probably not.”
Ginny sighed. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I guess for now I should just leave things as they are. A lot can change before the end of school.”
“Exactly!” Hermione agreed a little too readily. “And, besides, you really need to concentrate on your N.E.W.T.s anyway.”
Ginny watched her for a moment. Hermione’s nervous gestures and the way she was chewing on her lip were sure indications that she had something more on her mind. But Ginny was suddenly very tired.
“Yeah. It’s going to be a busy year. I think I’m going to go lie down for a bit.”
***
Harry looked up as the brown-papered package landed on top of his report, smearing the ink.
“Lunch,” Ron said as he settled into the chair on the opposite side of the desk.
“Thanks. Now I’ll have to redo this one.”
Ron shrugged and pointed to the stack of parchment on the corner of the desk. “What’s one more? I think that stack is growing instead of getting smaller.”
“Yeah, Robards is making sure I’ve learned my lesson about defying orders.” Harry set the sandwich aside. “Thanks for this.”
“No problem.” Ron slouched back in his chair, propping his long legs on the corner of the desk. “Okay, so it’s next week. Mum sent me to make sure you’re coming to supper tonight.”
Harry groaned. “Ron, you just pointed out that my stack is getting taller-”
“Yeah, but Mum’s started to fret about you disowning the family like Percy did. Or that Robards has you chained to the desk or something. If you don’t show up tonight, she’s going to drive us all barking mad. I can’t promise she won’t do something drastic.”
Harry dropped his head into his hands. “Not tonight, Ron. Look-no matter what, I’ll come tomorrow. I promise. But not tonight.”
Ron shook his head and stood. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Harry waved him off and pulled out his wand to try to salvage the ruined report.
About an hour later, the unmistakable sound of a Howler drifted down the hall. The words were indistinguishable, though the voice sounded vaguely familiar. Harry chuckled under his breath as he flashed back to his second year at Hogwarts when Ron received one of the fiery envelopes at breakfast after their adventure with his dad’s enchan-Harry stopped laughing as he recognized the voice.
“Oh, no,” he groaned.
Confirmation came quickly.
“POTTER!” Robards roared from his office, much louder than the Howler. “GET IN HERE!”
Harry stepped into the Chief Auror’s office to find him sitting behind his desk, his face as scarlet as the bits of envelope stuck in his beard and littering the desk and floor.
Harry gulped. “You wanted to see me?”
Robards glared at him for a moment. “Sit!” he barked.
Harry lowered himself tentatively into the chair in front of the desk, and remained poised for flight.
“What in the devil’s name did you tell Molly Weasley?”
“Nothing, sir.” Harry fidgeted nervously.
“You didn’t tell her I’m making you work until midnight every night?”
“No, sir.”
“Then where did she get that idea?”
Harry stared at the floor. “I guess because I have been working late. But I didn’t tell her you were making me.”
“So, you’re not using me to get out of having to go to The Burrow?”
“No, sir. Not you.” Harry cast a nervous glance at him, then looked back at the floor and mumbled, “But maybe the work. Sir.”
Robards leaned toward Harry over the desk and adopted a syrupy tone. “Do you mind telling me why?”
Harry looked up quickly, then back at the floor, casting wildly about in his mind for a way out of this mess. He cleared his throat. “I’d rather not. Sir. It’s-um-personal.”
Robards leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Personal. Well, I don’t appreciate getting Howlers because of your personal problems, Potter-because now it’s personal for me, too. The Weasleys and I go way back. We were in Gryffindor together at Hogwarts. If Molly Weasley’s upset, I’m upset. YOU GOT THAT?”
Harry flinched as Robards shouted his last words. “Yes, sir.”
“You had best get your arse to The Burrow this evening and make sure Molly isn’t upset anymore, understand?”
Harry sat up straight and looked up defiantly. “I can’t go tonight-sir.”
Robards stood and placed his palms on the desk, leaning toward Harry threateningly. “That wasn’t a request, Potter.”
Harry swallowed hard, but held his position. “With all due respect, you can’t give me orders about how to spend my personal time.”
Crimson crept slowly up Robards’ neck until it engulfed his whole head and looked as if it might explode out the top like lava from a volcano. Harry met his stare, refusing to back down.
“Fine!” Robards said as he grabbed a quill and piece of parchment. He scribbled for a moment, then handed it to Harry. “You want to work late, you can work late. You’re on duty at The Burrow tonight starting at seven. I expect you to stay inside with the family until they go to bed.”
Harry blanched. “No-please. I promised Ron I’d go tomorrow, but not tonight. Please-”
“You ready to disobey another direct order, Potter?”
Harry stood, his jaw muscle flexing as he met Robards’ challenging look. “No-sir.”
“I’ll expect a good report from Molly tomorrow. You had better charm her well.”
***
Harry didn’t bother trying to hide from the paparazzi stationed in the field across from The Burrow. If they took his picture going in, so much the better. He’d have proof for Robards that he was there. Nodding curtly to the lone guard outside the protective charms, he gave himself a stern lecture as he walked to the kitchen door.
You can do this. It’s just one evening. Other people will be there. You don’t have to hold a conversation with her. Just be polite and then find someone else to talk to. Keep your head down and get through it. You’ve lived through worse…
Yeah. Right.
Get a grip, Potter. You can do this.
Molly’s hug nearly strangled him before he made it through the back door. He thought it might have been a mercy if she’d succeeded.
“Harry! What have they been doing to you? You look positively peaky.”
“I’m all right, Mrs. Weasley. I’ve just been working so much, sometimes I forget to eat.”
“Forget to eat? What nonsense. Well, let’s see if we can fatten you up a bit. Come in. Sit down, sit down. George, get Harry something to drink.”
Harry gave the room a wave as the rest of the Weasley family shouted choruses of greetings. Ginny was across the room helping with supper. He slipped into the chair between Ron and Arthur with an inward sigh of relief. With Bill and Fleur across the table, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about sitting near Ginny.
The meal went more smoothly than Harry had anticipated, especially with Fleur dominating the conversation about home decorating. The men huddled at their end of the table talking about Auror training and the Chudley Cannons’ chances for the season. Harry found if he shifted in his chair just right, he could keep Ginny out of his line of sight and concentrate on the conversation much better. He might get through this after all.
When the last of the pudding had been eaten and the dishes set to washing themselves in the sink, Fleur began to steer the women into the sitting room to look at catalogues of furniture and linens. Molly agreed eagerly and Hermione (with a furtive eye roll at Ron) allowed herself to be led more slowly.
Ginny sidestepped Fleur’s guiding hand and waved them on. “I’m going to go finish packing. I’ll take a look when you have everything picked out.” She paused as she reached the stairs and turned back toward the table. “It was good to see you, Harry.”
He smiled weakly. “You, too. Have a good year.”
With a mixture of disappointment and relief, he watched until she disappeared from the first landing. He’d made it. The rest of the evening should be a piece of cake. Flexing his shoulders, he suddenly realized how tense he’d been. He settled back in his chair and sipped on his butterbeer, relaxing into the after-supper conversation.
Hermione wandered through after a while and went upstairs. When she came back down a few moments later, she draped her arms around Ron’s neck in a hug from behind, bending down to whisper something in his ear before giving him a kiss on the cheek and going back to the sitting room. Harry was happy for his two best friends, but watching the moment of intimacy planted a seed of longing in his heart. He wondered if he’d ever have someone to share secrets and kisses with. Swallowing the rest of his drink, he went in search of another one.
“Hey, Harry. I want to show you the new Quidditch book I got.” Ron stood and ambled toward the stairs. “It’s got some wicked strategy outlines. Come on up and take a look.”
Ron stopped at the bottom step to let him go first. Harry shrugged and headed upstairs.
When he reached the third landing, his feet stopped of their own accord and his eyes drifted involuntarily toward the open door of Ginny’s bedroom. He flashed back to the only time he’d been in there-on his birthday more than a year ago. She glanced at him, then went back to her packing. He turned quickly away and started to move on, but a jolt from behind sent him tumbling across the threshold to sprawl at Ginny’s feet, spraying the room with butterbeer as his bottle went flying. Too startled to react, Harry looked up to find Ron pulling the door closed.
“You two have one hour. Talk to each other.”
Harry scrambled to his feet in time to hear Ron casting a spell on the other side of the door.
“Colloportus.”
They were locked in.
Chapter 11
Chapter 1
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Chapter: 10 of 11 Intervention
Author: serendipity_50
Pairing: H/G
Rating: PG-13 (Brief references to sex, minor profanity)
Word Count this chapter: about 5000
Era: Post-DH Pre-Epilogue
Disclaimer: The characters belong to JK Rowling. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment only.
Author's Notes: Thanks to beta ClaraMinutes. Special thanks to minisinoo for her insight, expertise, and awesome suggestions for making this story better. Also, great appreciation to Ashwinder for her short-notice beta help with the final rewrite. Concrit welcome.
Story Summary: Harry and Ginny lived happily ever after...eventually. After the war, things didn't go as easily as they should have.
Chapter Summary: Harry and Ginny seem to be drifting further apart-can this relationship be saved?
“Ron, how many times do I have to tell you I just can’t?”
Harry leaned back in his chair and ran his fingers under his glasses to rub his bloodshot eyes. They’d had this conversation every afternoon for the past week.
“Oh, come on. Mum’s decided you’re mad at her.”
Harry stretched over the back of his chair to work the kinks out of his shoulders and laced his fingers behind his head as he stared at the ceiling. He huffed out a breath and gestured with his elbow at the foot-high stack of parchment on his desk.
“I’m not mad at her. I just can’t go with all this work to be done. By next week, I’ll be caught up and I’ll come to supper. But I can’t come this week.”
Of course, Harry wasn’t about to admit that next week would be after the first of September, and he’d be free to go to The Burrow every night if they’d have him. But until Ginny left for school, he wasn’t going anywhere near the Weasley home, and his “detention” at work gave him the perfect excuse.
“Bollocks!” Ron said, furrowing his brow in frustration. “No one expects you to work till midnight every night on this stuff. And even if they did, they can’t deny you a supper break.”
Harry closed his eyes. “I don’t stay until midnight every night.”
Ron snorted in disbelief.
“I left at half eleven last night.”
Ron rolled his eyes. “I know why you’re doing this.”
Harry lazily lifted his head and cocked a questioning eyebrow at Ron.
“You’re avoiding Ginny.”
Harry dropped his head back to face the ceiling again and sighed heavily. “I’m doing it because I have work to do.” They’d had this conversation several times as well.
“Yeah. Right.” Ron clearly didn’t believe him.
They sat in silent standoff for several moments. With his eyes still on the ceiling, Harry finally broke the silence.
“So-how is she?” He kept his voice carefully casual.
Ron was quiet for so long that Harry wondered if he was going to answer, but didn’t dare look to find out. He started breathing again when Ron finally spoke.
“She’s all right, considering. Has good days and bad days. She’s coming in to the shop in the mornings. The first day was tough, but she forced herself to get through it. The second day, some reporter from Witch Weekly came in and she kind of lost it-I thought sure she wouldn’t come back, but she’s determined. Says she doesn’t want to let Greyback steal any more of her life.” Ron grew quiet again.
Harry dropped his arms and leaned onto the desk. He picked up his quill and rolled the shaft between his fingers, keeping his eyes on the spinning feather. “Want me to see if I can get an Auror posted outside to keep the reporters away?”
“Nah, George charmed the door. Anyone coming in with a camera or Quick Quotes Quill gets Confunded and their hair turns purple so we can identify them. After Tuesday, I’m sure word’s got around and we won’t have any more trouble.”
Harry smiled at the twirling quill, thinking of what the reporter had probably suffered at the hands of George and Ron.
“I’m glad she’s doing better,” he said after a moment.
Ron leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Well, better doesn't mean great. We still catch her staring into space a lot, and she won’t go anywhere but the house and the shop. But she is getting better about having people around. She seems to feel more comfortable when it’s just family, though. George says we just need to give her some time.”
“Yeah, I imagine so,” Harry said.
“Of course, that git Thomas is still coming ’round,” Ron said. Harry’s heart lurched, but he managed to keep his expression blank. “She won’t go for ice cream with him, but she doesn’t run him off, either. I’d like to punch him. If he hadn’t taken her off that day-”
“It wasn’t his fault,” Harry said, finally looking at Ron. “Greyback wanted her. It wouldn’t have mattered who she was with.”
“Why are you defending him?” Ron looked puzzled and angry. His voice raised a notch. “She doesn’t belong with him-”
Harry spoke sharply. “Let it go, Ron. If he makes her happy, let her be.”
“Ah, come on, Harry. I saw the way she looked when you were dancing with her-the way the two of you looked-”
“I said let it go,” Harry said in a flat voice as he pulled a sheet from the stack of parchment. “I need to get back to work.”
Ron threw his hands in the air and gave a growl of frustration. Harry pointedly ignored him and pretended to read the form in front of him.
“What happened?” Ron finally asked quietly.
Harry didn’t bother to look up. This line of questioning was getting old, too. “Nothing happened.”
“Harry, I’m your best mate. You can tell me. I swear, I won’t breathe a word to anyone. Not even Hermione-especially not Hermione.”
Harry pretended to read for a few beats, then released a sigh of defeat and leaned his arms on the desk, giving Ron a serious look. “You promise? You won’t tell a soul?”
Ron nodded eagerly.
“Okay. Well-” Harry took a deep breath. “You promise, right?”
“Yeah, I promise. What happened?”
“Well… are you sure?”
“Harry!”
“Okay, okay. Here goes… You see, we danced and-and then-well, then-I left.” Harry sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest, waiting for Ron’s reaction.
Ron dropped his head into his hands. “You’re making me mental.”
“You were already mental.”
Ron threw a piece of wadded parchment at him. “Come on, Harry! Talk to me.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. Now, get out of here. I need to get back to work before Robards jumps me again.”
Ron studied him for a moment before pushing his lanky limbs from his chair. “All right, I’ll go. But you’re coming to The Burrow tomorrow. It’s Saturday and I know you don’t have to work weekends.”
“I can’t.”
Ron eyed him skeptically. “You can’t. What’s your lame excuse this time?”
Harry dropped his eyes and the volume of his voice. “I have a date.”
Ron’s jaw dropped before he exploded. “You have a what?”
“A date. You know-you take a girl out… have a good time… You should try it sometime.”
Ron stared at him, a variety of emotions flashing across his face. “A date. With who?”
Harry shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Daphne.”
Ron flopped back into his seat. “Please tell me you didn’t say that. Bloody hell, Harry, why in the world would you go out with her? Rita Skeeter’s going to be all over you.”
“Rita’s already all over me. Going out with Daphne isn’t going to make it any worse.”
“But, why? Why would you do that?”
Harry shrugged. “She asked. She’s got some party to go to. Said she didn’t want to go alone. I didn’t have a good reason to say no.” He didn’t add that he did have several good reasons to say yes.
“I can think of about a dozen reasons to say no,” Ron sneered, “starting with the fact that you don’t like her-”
“She’s okay,” Harry said defiantly.
“-and ending with the fact that she’s as annoying as Gilderoy Lockhart at an autograph party.”
“No, she’s-” Harry couldn’t continue his protest as he fought back a grin.
“See! You think so, too.”
“No,” Harry said, working to compose his expression. “No, I don’t. She can be quite-entertaining…”
“Yeah, ’cause she’s loonier than a Lovegood-”
“-and she’s nice looking-”
“-well, yeah, she’s gorgeous, but-”
“-and we have our career in common.”
Ron appeared to be considering Harry’s last argument for a moment.
“So-who are you trying to convince?”
Before Harry could respond, Ron stood. “Never mind, I reckon I can work that one out.” He gave Harry a friendly punch in the arm. “You have fun with your paperwork. I’ll tell Mum you’ll come ’round next week.”
Harry watched him go with a mixture of relief and irritation. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold out against Ron’s insistent interrogation. And Hermione was even worse. She had showed up at his desk several times for the same purpose, though her questions were less direct and required a bit more mental agility to dodge. In short, they were sapping his already flagging energy and would eventually wear him down. He only hoped he could put them off until Ginny was gone, so they didn’t do something stupid.
He turned back to processing his reports and thought longingly of the weekend ahead. After a long flight on his broom to clear his head, he was going to spend it just as he had spent the past two weekends-alone in bed. With Kreacher posted as guard (mostly from Ron), he just wanted to lie on his back and stare at the ceiling, recouping the enormous amounts of energy required to maintain his façade of normality during the never-ending week.
Of course, he’d also have to get through Saturday evening with Daphne, but he’d decided that was a fortuitous opportunity he couldn’t pass up. He knew she wanted him only for the celebrity factor and, as long as she understood his intentions (or lack thereof), he was willing to oblige her as a way to keep his public pretense intact. No doubt, she would see to it that Rita helped perpetuate the ruse with a story in Sunday’s Prophet, but that also fit perfectly with his plan to let the world believe in the myth of their growing relationship. It was the best way he could think of to protect Ginny. If the media ever suspected his true feelings, they would be all over her and she didn’t need that kind of attention-especially now. From the sound of it, she’d had all she could handle since her abduction. With luck, this move would give the vultures something else to chew on and draw media attention away from her altogether.
He knew he wasn’t fooling Ron and Hermione, but he might get away with fooling the rest of the world. And maybe, by going through the motions, he could eventually fool himself.
***
Ginny stared off into space as she sat hugging her knees to her chest in her usual spot on the garden bench. Over the past week, she’d perched here every afternoon after work, spending time in her “safe place” to build up her reserves for the next day. Today was just a bit different. She’d had to maintain her composure only during Sunday lunch with family, and she was able to relax a bit more than usual since she didn’t have to guard her secrets from them like she did with the customers at the shop. Well, most of her secrets…
“Hi.”
Ginny pulled herself from her thoughts. She looked blankly at Hermione for a moment before remembering that she needed to respond.
“Oh, um, hi.”
“Mind if I join you?”
Yes, Ginny thought irritably, but forced herself into “normal” mode and put her feet on the ground to make room on the bench.
Hermione took her seat and looked across the garden. Ginny sank back into her reverie as they sat quietly for a few moments. Hermione tentatively broke the silence. “Ron said you had a pretty good week at the shop.”
That was a bit of an overstatement. Facing customers had been a struggle, but she’d managed to stiffen her spine and get through it. Ginny shrugged. “It was okay. Except for the scene with the reporter. I didn’t handle that very well.”
“You shouldn’t have to handle it at all. They have no right to bother you when you’re working.”
Ginny grimaced. “I don’t want them to bother me at home either. That lot in the field across the road are driving me round the bend.”
“Have you considered giving an interview?” Hermione asked, eyeing her carefully. At Ginny’s look of horror she quickly continued. “It doesn’t have to be like that. Not all of them are completely horrible. Ron and I know a couple that would handle it properly. And it might make the rest of them back off a bit.”
Ginny squeezed her eyes shut and shuddered. “I couldn’t-I can’t even talk about it to family. How could I talk to a stranger who would print it all in the paper? Look what they did before-look what they do to you and Ron and-” Ginny stared off across the garden and her voice dropped to a whisper. “-and Harry.”
Hermione sighed. “You saw the paper this morning.”
With Hermione watching her so closely, Ginny had to work extra hard to keep her expression blank. Summoning the strength to sound calm, she took a deep breath so she could get it all out quickly.
“It’s not like I didn’t know it was coming. I heard you and Ron whispering about it last night. And, besides, I know he’s dating her and I know it’s not the last picture of him I’ll see in some newspaper or magazine with her or somebody else. I’m over it. Let it go.”
Of course, she was lying. Even though she’d known it was coming, seeing the picture of Harry and Daphne entering the swanky restaurant had been painful. She knew she had to get used to it. Harry thought of her only as another member of the Weasley family. Rita Skeeter’s interview with him after Greyback was captured had driven that truth home-the words were burned into Ginny's memory:
...I asked Harry why he would risk his life and career for Miss Weasley, whom he dated briefly during his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Is there more to their relationship than he’s letting on?
“The Weasleys have been my surrogate family for seven years,” Mr. Potter said solemnly. “I’d do the same for any of them.”
So I asked if his relationship with fellow Auror trainee Daphne Darling has changed.
“Not a bit,” he said with a wink.
“I’m just worried about you, Ginny.” Hermione’s voice snapped her back to the present. “I know something happened at your party that you won’t talk about. I just want to help.”
Ginny heaved a breath of frustration. She was tired of everyone asking her about this. “Nothing happened.”
“Something happened. I saw you dancing and then he was gone. You were a mess afterward.”
Ginny counted to ten before answering through gritted teeth. “Did you ever stop to think that the fact that nothing happened is the problem? I told you that months ago. Nothing is ever going to happen between Harry and me. Ever. It’s over. Finished. Period. And, the quicker I accept that fact and move on with my life the better off everyone will be.”
Hermione dropped her head and played with her fingers in her lap. She chewed her lip as if considering an appropriate response.
Ginny softened her expression and touched Hermione’s arm. “It’s okay. Really. I’ll be fine. I leave for school in two days and everything will be fine.”
She didn’t really believe what she was saying, but she hoped by trying to convince Hermione and her family, she might eventually begin to believe it herself. She’d have to keep going through the motions until she could get back to the person she used to be.
Hermione’s frown deepened. “Are you really ready to go back to school? I’m sure McGonagall would let you wait a bit-”
“No, I need to go. I’m Head Girl.” She wasn’t sure she sounded as confident as she wanted to be.
Ginny had hoped being away at school, getting back into her old routine, might make things easier. But working in the shop this week had given her a glimpse of what she could expect when she went back to Hogwarts-she had been only too aware of the curious looks and whispered remarks. She knew she would be spending a lot of time-at least at first-in her “safe haven” (the memory of her birthday dance had become her favorite retreat). And without her family around for support, she was going to have to rely heavily on the two friends she knew she could trust.
Much to Ginny’s dismay, Hermione couldn’t seem to stop voicing her concern. “But, it’s going to be hard, isn’t it, without anyone who knows-”
“Dean will be there. I know I can count on him. And Luna. She doesn’t know all the details, but she understands.”
Hermione stood abruptly and began pacing in a tight circle. “Yes, Dean’s going back, isn’t he? I forgot.” She stopped and gave Ginny a look of alarm. “You’re not thinking of-of dating him, are you?”
Ginny studied her quizzically for a moment. “I’m not thinking about dating anyone. I’ve had a few other things on my mind. Dean’s a good friend.”
Relief washed over Hermione’s face. “Of course. That was silly of me to even-”
“But, I suppose it would make sense-” Ginny said thoughtfully “-after all we’ve been through together, I mean. He’s been so good to me this summer, in spite of everything. I just keep thinking I ought to be able to feel more for him. He’s really kind. And patient. He told me he’d like to give it another go, but he doesn’t push me or expect more than I can give. It almost seems wrong not to give it a try.”
Hermione sat down, the concern back in her eyes. “No, wait! I wasn’t suggesting it. I mean, don’t you still have feelings for-”
Ginny’s anger flared. “It doesn’t matter about my feelings, Hermione. I already told you that a dozen times.”
“But, Ginny, is that fair to Dean when you both know he’s-well, second choice?”
Ginny pushed herself from the bench and leaned her shoulder against the tree as she watched the shadow of a cloud pass over the orchard. “He said he wouldn’t mind-he’s very understanding about it.” She closed her eyes and laid her temple against the trunk. “How do you know when you love somebody? How did you know you were in love with Ron?”
A couple of minutes passed before Hermione answered in a dreamy voice. “I don’t really know. It just kind of grew over time. First year, when he sacrificed himself during that chess game, I knew something was there-I just didn’t know what it was. I guess I started suspecting when we fought about Viktor taking me to the Yule Ball fourth year. Then when he spent the first part of sixth year attached to Lavender Brown’s face, among other things, I finally knew for sure. I guess if I had to give a specific reason, it’s because he keeps me thinking. He balances me-keeps me from becoming a total swot.” Ginny couldn’t help but smile at that. Hermione’s voice grew sad. “When he left us-Harry and me-last year, I thought I’d never see him again. I didn’t know how I was going to go on. I just know now that I can’t ever let him go.”
She looked at Ginny. “So, to answer your question, I guess you just have to listen to your heart. You just know when it’s there. If you have to wonder, then it’s probably not.”
Ginny sighed. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I guess for now I should just leave things as they are. A lot can change before the end of school.”
“Exactly!” Hermione agreed a little too readily. “And, besides, you really need to concentrate on your N.E.W.T.s anyway.”
Ginny watched her for a moment. Hermione’s nervous gestures and the way she was chewing on her lip were sure indications that she had something more on her mind. But Ginny was suddenly very tired.
“Yeah. It’s going to be a busy year. I think I’m going to go lie down for a bit.”
***
Harry looked up as the brown-papered package landed on top of his report, smearing the ink.
“Lunch,” Ron said as he settled into the chair on the opposite side of the desk.
“Thanks. Now I’ll have to redo this one.”
Ron shrugged and pointed to the stack of parchment on the corner of the desk. “What’s one more? I think that stack is growing instead of getting smaller.”
“Yeah, Robards is making sure I’ve learned my lesson about defying orders.” Harry set the sandwich aside. “Thanks for this.”
“No problem.” Ron slouched back in his chair, propping his long legs on the corner of the desk. “Okay, so it’s next week. Mum sent me to make sure you’re coming to supper tonight.”
Harry groaned. “Ron, you just pointed out that my stack is getting taller-”
“Yeah, but Mum’s started to fret about you disowning the family like Percy did. Or that Robards has you chained to the desk or something. If you don’t show up tonight, she’s going to drive us all barking mad. I can’t promise she won’t do something drastic.”
Harry dropped his head into his hands. “Not tonight, Ron. Look-no matter what, I’ll come tomorrow. I promise. But not tonight.”
Ron shook his head and stood. “Okay, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Harry waved him off and pulled out his wand to try to salvage the ruined report.
About an hour later, the unmistakable sound of a Howler drifted down the hall. The words were indistinguishable, though the voice sounded vaguely familiar. Harry chuckled under his breath as he flashed back to his second year at Hogwarts when Ron received one of the fiery envelopes at breakfast after their adventure with his dad’s enchan-Harry stopped laughing as he recognized the voice.
“Oh, no,” he groaned.
Confirmation came quickly.
“POTTER!” Robards roared from his office, much louder than the Howler. “GET IN HERE!”
Harry stepped into the Chief Auror’s office to find him sitting behind his desk, his face as scarlet as the bits of envelope stuck in his beard and littering the desk and floor.
Harry gulped. “You wanted to see me?”
Robards glared at him for a moment. “Sit!” he barked.
Harry lowered himself tentatively into the chair in front of the desk, and remained poised for flight.
“What in the devil’s name did you tell Molly Weasley?”
“Nothing, sir.” Harry fidgeted nervously.
“You didn’t tell her I’m making you work until midnight every night?”
“No, sir.”
“Then where did she get that idea?”
Harry stared at the floor. “I guess because I have been working late. But I didn’t tell her you were making me.”
“So, you’re not using me to get out of having to go to The Burrow?”
“No, sir. Not you.” Harry cast a nervous glance at him, then looked back at the floor and mumbled, “But maybe the work. Sir.”
Robards leaned toward Harry over the desk and adopted a syrupy tone. “Do you mind telling me why?”
Harry looked up quickly, then back at the floor, casting wildly about in his mind for a way out of this mess. He cleared his throat. “I’d rather not. Sir. It’s-um-personal.”
Robards leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. “Personal. Well, I don’t appreciate getting Howlers because of your personal problems, Potter-because now it’s personal for me, too. The Weasleys and I go way back. We were in Gryffindor together at Hogwarts. If Molly Weasley’s upset, I’m upset. YOU GOT THAT?”
Harry flinched as Robards shouted his last words. “Yes, sir.”
“You had best get your arse to The Burrow this evening and make sure Molly isn’t upset anymore, understand?”
Harry sat up straight and looked up defiantly. “I can’t go tonight-sir.”
Robards stood and placed his palms on the desk, leaning toward Harry threateningly. “That wasn’t a request, Potter.”
Harry swallowed hard, but held his position. “With all due respect, you can’t give me orders about how to spend my personal time.”
Crimson crept slowly up Robards’ neck until it engulfed his whole head and looked as if it might explode out the top like lava from a volcano. Harry met his stare, refusing to back down.
“Fine!” Robards said as he grabbed a quill and piece of parchment. He scribbled for a moment, then handed it to Harry. “You want to work late, you can work late. You’re on duty at The Burrow tonight starting at seven. I expect you to stay inside with the family until they go to bed.”
Harry blanched. “No-please. I promised Ron I’d go tomorrow, but not tonight. Please-”
“You ready to disobey another direct order, Potter?”
Harry stood, his jaw muscle flexing as he met Robards’ challenging look. “No-sir.”
“I’ll expect a good report from Molly tomorrow. You had better charm her well.”
***
Harry didn’t bother trying to hide from the paparazzi stationed in the field across from The Burrow. If they took his picture going in, so much the better. He’d have proof for Robards that he was there. Nodding curtly to the lone guard outside the protective charms, he gave himself a stern lecture as he walked to the kitchen door.
You can do this. It’s just one evening. Other people will be there. You don’t have to hold a conversation with her. Just be polite and then find someone else to talk to. Keep your head down and get through it. You’ve lived through worse…
Yeah. Right.
Get a grip, Potter. You can do this.
Molly’s hug nearly strangled him before he made it through the back door. He thought it might have been a mercy if she’d succeeded.
“Harry! What have they been doing to you? You look positively peaky.”
“I’m all right, Mrs. Weasley. I’ve just been working so much, sometimes I forget to eat.”
“Forget to eat? What nonsense. Well, let’s see if we can fatten you up a bit. Come in. Sit down, sit down. George, get Harry something to drink.”
Harry gave the room a wave as the rest of the Weasley family shouted choruses of greetings. Ginny was across the room helping with supper. He slipped into the chair between Ron and Arthur with an inward sigh of relief. With Bill and Fleur across the table, at least he wouldn’t have to worry about sitting near Ginny.
The meal went more smoothly than Harry had anticipated, especially with Fleur dominating the conversation about home decorating. The men huddled at their end of the table talking about Auror training and the Chudley Cannons’ chances for the season. Harry found if he shifted in his chair just right, he could keep Ginny out of his line of sight and concentrate on the conversation much better. He might get through this after all.
When the last of the pudding had been eaten and the dishes set to washing themselves in the sink, Fleur began to steer the women into the sitting room to look at catalogues of furniture and linens. Molly agreed eagerly and Hermione (with a furtive eye roll at Ron) allowed herself to be led more slowly.
Ginny sidestepped Fleur’s guiding hand and waved them on. “I’m going to go finish packing. I’ll take a look when you have everything picked out.” She paused as she reached the stairs and turned back toward the table. “It was good to see you, Harry.”
He smiled weakly. “You, too. Have a good year.”
With a mixture of disappointment and relief, he watched until she disappeared from the first landing. He’d made it. The rest of the evening should be a piece of cake. Flexing his shoulders, he suddenly realized how tense he’d been. He settled back in his chair and sipped on his butterbeer, relaxing into the after-supper conversation.
Hermione wandered through after a while and went upstairs. When she came back down a few moments later, she draped her arms around Ron’s neck in a hug from behind, bending down to whisper something in his ear before giving him a kiss on the cheek and going back to the sitting room. Harry was happy for his two best friends, but watching the moment of intimacy planted a seed of longing in his heart. He wondered if he’d ever have someone to share secrets and kisses with. Swallowing the rest of his drink, he went in search of another one.
“Hey, Harry. I want to show you the new Quidditch book I got.” Ron stood and ambled toward the stairs. “It’s got some wicked strategy outlines. Come on up and take a look.”
Ron stopped at the bottom step to let him go first. Harry shrugged and headed upstairs.
When he reached the third landing, his feet stopped of their own accord and his eyes drifted involuntarily toward the open door of Ginny’s bedroom. He flashed back to the only time he’d been in there-on his birthday more than a year ago. She glanced at him, then went back to her packing. He turned quickly away and started to move on, but a jolt from behind sent him tumbling across the threshold to sprawl at Ginny’s feet, spraying the room with butterbeer as his bottle went flying. Too startled to react, Harry looked up to find Ron pulling the door closed.
“You two have one hour. Talk to each other.”
Harry scrambled to his feet in time to hear Ron casting a spell on the other side of the door.
“Colloportus.”
They were locked in.
Chapter 11
Chapter 1
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