A Secret Love Chapter 10
Chapter 10
Clearing the Air
The Christmas holidays sped by and soon all of the students had returned to Hogwarts. Mary had occupied most of Ginny’s waking hours by plying her with constant revision. Ginny settled into a monotonous routine of classes, studying, scant meals and the occasional respite of sleep. The mortal exhaustion that came with re-living each day was easily mistaken for N.E.W.T. stress. The drudgery of exam preparation saved her from having to put on a happy face and even made it easier to cope with her misery. Letters from home had become sparse, which suited her self-imposed isolation well.
The month of January passed without incident. As February began, Ginny felt a numbness seep through her body that had nothing to do with the bitterly cold winter. She trudged lifelessly out of Gryffindor Tower and down to the Great Hall for a breakfast of tea and toast. She wouldn’t have noticed the morning owls if a letter, addressed to her, hadn’t dropped into her tea. With her thumb and forefinger, she lifted the dripping parchment from the amber liquid and dried it off with a soft incantation and tap of her wand. She unfolded the dry, albeit stained, piece of paper and began to read.
Dear Ginny,
Professor McGonagall informs me that there is a Hogsmeade visit this coming weekend. While I know your N.E.W.T.S. are fast approaching and I'm sure you have plenty of revising left to do, I beg you to take an hour or two to meet with me. It may seem foolish to give up an afternoon, so soon before your exams, but I think the respite would do you good. Several of our acquaintances within Hogwarts have expressed concern at the single mindedness with which you've attacked your studies. I am certainly very proud of you, but I think you would do well to take a bit of a break. In that vein, I'll await the pleasure of your company at The Three Broomsticks at one o'clock.
Your Brother,
Percy
Ginny stared, uncomprehending, at Percy’s writing. It was Friday; the Hogsmeade visit was the very next day. There wasn’t really anything she could say to refuse that wouldn’t cause alarm and not enough time to come up with something either. She wasn’t sure she could face anyone from her family. Even meeting with Percy, who was so far removed from her current problems, terrified her. Ginny couldn't bear the thought of facing any member of her family when she'd kept such a large secret from them. Her fingers trembled as she stuffed the letter into the pocket of her robes. She knocked her tea over onto a plate of forgotten toast as she stood to leave. She barely noticed the spilt tea or the concerned faces which she left behind.
~ : ~ : ~
Albus sat at the head table and watched Ginny with pensive concern. Her recent behaviour had been mechanical, as though she’d turned off that part of her that reacted to all things emotional and was just doing those things which were required of her. When Minerva had expressed concern about Ginny’s mental state she’d said that Ginny’s school work had never been better, but the girl had become extremely withdrawn and had even stopped laughing with her friends. Minerva felt that Charlie’s death was just starting to sink in and perhaps they ought to contact Ginny’s parents to come and try to talk to her. Dumbledore had said that he would speak with her and that notifying her parents was not necessary. Minerva hadn’t wanted to leave it at that, but she’d deferred to the headmaster’s judgment, this time. The lies to his deputy headmistress had slipped easily from his mouth but not so easily from his conscience. For once, Albus was truly unsure of what he should do. The Ginny he’d visited at number four Privet Drive was a bit subdued, but still the outgoing and loving girl they’d always known. The Ginny at Hogwarts had lost the essence of her self; she’d lost her purpose.
Albus considered taking Ginny aside and attempting to get her to talk, as he’d told Minerva he would. He’d dismissed that idea almost immediately, however. Perhaps it was best to allow Ginny to cope with the pain of her losses on her own terms. He respected her immensely for choosing the difficult path and sacrificing so much to protect Harry and, ultimately, their child, but he suspected that Harry wouldn’t see it in so favourable a light. And he wasn’t certain that it had indeed been the best course of action for Ginny to leave Hogwarts and have the baby in secret, telling no one. She must have dearly missed her mother when the time came for her to give birth. She had been adamant, however, that Harry should not be told and that the baby be kept hidden, and that had been her choice to make. Not his.
He let out a sigh of resignation and defeat. It was not his place to condone or condemn their actions. While Molly Weasley would deem both Harry and Ginny children, Albus was afraid that life had made them both adults far before their time. He couldn’t blame them for seeking comfort in each other’s arms, but he wished that the consequences hadn’t been so far-reaching. Ginny would never have another chance at being a carefree girl, and Harry might never forgive her - or himself. He glanced furtively over to the Gryffindor table and saw Ginny reading a letter. She suddenly rose from the table and walked blindly from the Great Hall, leaving behind an untouched breakfast. Albus closed his eyes against the sight of the obviously shaken girl. Whatever the letter had contained to disturb her, he could only hope that it wouldn’t shake the tenuous grip she had on her situation.
~ : ~ : ~
Harry stood under the scalding spray, leaning forward to allow the soul-cleansing cascade to bombard his head and flow down the rest of his body. His forehead rested against the cool tiles while he took in deep breaths of steamy air. As the hot water trailed across his shoulders and back it took with it the tension that held his muscles rigid. The physical challenges of becoming an Auror were on par with intellectual and psychological ones. The hot shower served to melt away the pain and memory of the day’s training. The classes in evasive maneouvers had been rigorous. Hermione, who’d never been all that handy with a broom, had finally quit the Auror programme. It was only the second time he’d ever seen her give up and he didn’t think Divination counted.
The flow of water stopped as Harry stepped out of the shower. He shook the excess moisture from his hair, scattering droplets across the room, while wrapping a large white towel around his waist. He didn’t think twice about his state of undress as he walked from the bathroom to his room. The only females that he was likely to encounter were Hermione and Mrs. Weasley and he doubted either of them would be all that shocked. Especially Mrs. Weasley, not after having raised six sons of her own. The sound of someone crying made him pause as he made his way down the hall. He steeled himself against the boyish urge to run in the opposite direction and instead gently nudged open the door to Hermione’s room.
She was sprawled face down on her bed, sobbing. Out of his element, but unable to leave his best friend alone, he sat on the edge of her bed. Hermione stiffened as she felt the weight of him next to her, but she didn’t raise her head. “Go away, Ron,” she blubbered. “I don’t want to talk about it!”
“Hermione,” he began nervously.
At the sound of Harry’s voice, Hermione spun around and gave Harry a startled look. “Harry - what are you - why - you’re not dressed,” she stammered.
Harry looked down at his bare chest and towel and grimaced. “I just took a shower,” he explained. “I was on my way back to my room when I heard you, um, crying.”
“And you just had to storm in, clad in naught but a towel and bravery, to save the damsel in distress?” she said with a watery laugh.
“Well, I thought it was brave. I wouldn’t try to comfort just any crying female, y’know,” he said with a look of mock insult.
“So, is this where you gallantly offer me your towel to dry my eyes?” she asked mischievously.
“Um, no,” Harry replied, grinning. “But you can lean on my shoulder if you’d like.”
Hermione took in a shaky breath and he felt the sorrow in her eyes pierce right through him. “I’d like,” she said, leaning into his embrace. She closed her eyes and laid her head on his chest. Harry held her silently, hoping that the comfort of his presence was enough as he had no idea of what to say.
“What the bloody hell!?”
Harry and Hermione looked up to see a snarling Ron launching himself at Harry. Harry stood, holding his towel with one hand and prepared to fend off his best mate with the other. Behind him, Hermione snatched her wand.
“Petrificus Totalus!”
Ron’s arms snapped to his side and his rigid body fell forward. Harry looked at Ron’s paralyzed form and ran the fingers of his free hand through his damp hair. If Ron was going to jump to conclusions about him and Hermione, then things between them all were worse than he thought. It was past time they all had a little chat. Harry shot a worried glance at Hermione and saw her gazing balefully at Ron.
“Hermione,” he said softly. “Please summon me some clothes. I think it’s time we all had a chat, and I’d rather be dressed. It’s getting a little breezy…”
“Accio clothes,” said Hermione with a nonchalant wave of her wand. Harry’s clothes and wand flew into the room and Hermione turned tactfully away while Harry pulled on his jeans and a t-shirt. Once dressed, Harry levitated Ron up and leaned him against the wall.
“I’m not un-hexing you until you’ve had a chance to calm down,” said Harry, facing Ron with his arms folded. “Hermione’s had a rough enough day without you prattling on like an idiot. You know well enough that neither Hermione nor I would ever do anything like that to hurt you. So let’s start with the real issue why you’re angry with me.”
He began to pace so that he wouldn’t have to look Ron in the face. How would he explain his involvement with Ginny to her older brother without making things worse? Hands pushed deep in his pockets and head hung low, he whispered, “I’m sorry I hurt her, Ron. Neither of us was ready for what we did, it just happened, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care for her. I’ve messed things up royally with Ginny and I’ll do my best to make it up to her, but it’s between her and me.”
“Harry?” said Hermione and Harry turned to see her shocked expression. “What did you do with Ginny?” she asked cautiously.
Harry closed his eyes tightly against the shame that welled up inside of him. “I thought Ron would’ve told you,” he said.
“Did you - Is that why she - ” Hermione trailed off as understanding set in. “Oh, Harry,” she sighed sorrowfully. “You didn’t.”
Harry spun on her and gave her a steely glare. “I. Didn’t. Do it. Alone,” he ground out. Turning back to Ron, he added, “What’s between me and Ginny will stay there. I just want you to know that I didn’t intentionally hurt her and I will do my best to fix things with her.”
Harry sat, dejected on the bed, the steam having left him. He raised his wand and muttered, “Finite Incantatem,” and waited for Ron’s attack.
The attack didn’t come. Harry watched in awe as Ron walked over to embrace Hermione. “I’m sorry,” he whispered into her hair. They were so much in love, it was painful to watch, but Harry was relieved to see them make up so easily. Their usual bickering was absent and in its place was a show of mutual respect and love. Harry rose to leave them. Ron would be able to help Hermione accept her recent failure and make her see that she had other, just as important, ways to contribute.
“Harry?”
“Yeah, mate?” said Harry turning back to listen to Ron.
“Percy just told me that he’s off on some business for the Order. Seems Dumbledore had a task that he’d be brilliant at.” The corners of Harry’s mouth turned up in amusement at the disgust that dripped from Ron’s voice.
“Yeah, I’d heard that,” Harry replied.
“He’d arranged to meet with Ginny tomorrow and he asked me to take his place,” Ron paused and gave Harry a piercing look. “You go. The Three Broomsticks, at one o’clock. And if you ever hurt her again, I’ll have to beat you up.”
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