Chapter 18 I Heard My Love Asked About Me
“Sis, I can’t believe Snape took all your points because you lost your freaking shoe!” complained Ron, examining Harry’s golden broomstick trophy as the four of them opened the portrait to the common room. “Everyone could see it flew off only because Harry was going all out in that final release move, catching you only in the last second!”
“Thank goodness for Dumbledore. He had the right mind to give you guys the edge in the tiebreaker!” Hermione beamed, clutching a heavy bottle of champagne and many bouquets of flowers for Ginny.
“Well, he wanted to see a performance from the heart! Harry gave us a heart all right! A big red smiling one! And it thumps too!” Ron burst out laughing. “Where did you learn those ridiculous illumination spells, mate? That thing was so big and bright it__”
Hermione quickly nudged him in the back, sensing both Harry and Ginny were getting uncomfortable. She couldn’t help but remember the audience’s jeers when Dumbledore was making the point about performing with the heart. It was obvious the shapes Harry had conjured amused many spectators.
“Where’s everyone?” asked Ron quietly, noticing the common room was deserted.
“It’s well past two already! Everyone must have gone to bed by now! Those stupid photo sessions took forever!” Hermione yawned, handing Harry the cold champagne.
She reached over to Ginny and grabbed the rest of the bouquets and her costume, “I’m beat! Gin, let me take them upstairs for you! You don’t mind me taking some of these roses, right?”
Ginny giggled as Ron took the broomsticks from Harry and quickly followed upstairs with the trophy, leaving the two of them alone in the common room.
Harry poured two glasses of champagne and handed her a glass.
“Congratulations, my Hogwarts Broomstick Princess,” he sniggered to a toast before realizing how ridiculous his words sounded.
“Sorry… about the shoe thing by the way. You were wonderful tonight. The photographers, everyone… they love you...
”Not as much as I love you…" he mused boyishly in his mind.
Ginny grinned and took a sip of the champagne as she strolled to the window, trying to hide the veil of melancholy that was creeping across her face. She was pondering why she was feeling sad, when it was supposed to be a joyous moment for the two of them. There could not be another reason why she was sad, other than the letdown from coming down from such a high and exciting peak, she thought to herself strenuously, knowing the magical experience from the spectacular evening they shared earlier had finally come to an end, and it would be a while before she would have another one.
“You look very handsome tonight, my Hogwarts Broomstick prince,” she cheered forcefully, playing along with him.
She had since changed back to her casual clothes, unlike Harry, who was still wearing his tuxedo and was very much immersed in the fantasy of the perfect moment that had already passed for Ginny.
“I have to thank my mentee for that. I guess it wasn’t so bad after all. I haven’t seen her all night by the way,” he inched closer to her. “I hope she’s okay. She was limping a bit earlier.”
“Coming from a family of brothers, Sam is the crazy little sister I always wished I have,” she muttered, trying to divert their conversation as far away from the two of them as possible, because she could sense Harry wanted to say something she wasn’t ready to hear.
“I’ve gotten to know her these past few months. She’s a tough girl… but deep inside… she’s not really…
“She reminds me of me sometimes…” her words were weakening to a whisper as she took another sip, “…especially back when I was eleven… when I met a boy… and I had… a crush on him too…”
“Hmm?” asked Harry as he planted his hand on her arm, slowly turning her around, not paying much attention to what Ginny was saying about Sam because he had in his mind, a very important message he wanted to deliver to her, a message that he was determined to deliver to her now.
“Ginny, I… want to tell you something… I was saying it to you earlier… at the backroom… but I was interrupted by Hooch’s announcement,” he gazed into her misty brown eyes, using Hooch as an excuse for his hesitant words, when he should be blaming himself, because he was still unable to deliver his emotional message to her at this quiet moment.
He could see himself leaning closer towards her, “I want to thank you… for everything you’ve done for me… and I… I…”
Ginny smiled weakly and covered his jittery lips with her fingers, seemingly letting him know it was all right, “It must be the champagne.
“Harry, it’s late,” she suddenly stood on her toes and kissed him deeply, surprising him so much he almost shattered the champagne glass in his hand.
Before Harry was able to wrap his arm around her, she pulled away and gently rubbed his stunned lips with her thumb, “Thanks for… stepping in tonight. You were wonderful too.”
“Ginny, wait, I… I… love…” Harry quickly unfroze his lips and garbled choppily, but his words fell to the floor because she had already disappeared upstairs.
Breathing shallowly and his heart racing, he was staring blankly at the staircase, wondering what had just happened and why she had just kissed him.
“It… it must be the champagne…” he unglued his feet and trudged upstairs, his mind and his heart spinning dizzyingly.
Ginny found herself unable to sleep despite what was a gruesome evening and having drank champagne earlier, something that would always make her drowsy. As she was cradling Harry’s unopened gift in her bed, the images of everything that had happened flooded her mind, but they were not of the cheering audience crying out their names when they won, or Dumbledore awarding them the trophy, or the photographers complimenting their every move. All the images were of Harry gazing at her, holding her, and all those shapes and thumping hearts he conjured up for her. The pair of green stars that used to watch over her had indeed come back to her in their original poignant form, and their owner was holding her hand endearingly like it once was. She smiled because at the end of the routine, they bickered like an old couple and he scooped her up without her permission. Even though she protested wildly, deep down she loved being in his arms, and she could sense that he was coyly aware of it.
With everything that had happened tonight, there was no doubt in her mind he had fallen hard for her. For a while, it felt wonderful, as if she was in a fairy tale, and she was truly a princess, and having the prince of her dreams loving her and doing all those breathtaking things for her. Just like all fairy tales, she surely believed she was able to love him and return to him again, and finally be able to forget all the pain from the past.
However, the beautiful fantasy came to a choppy end as soon as she removed her red dress. She realized that wearing it had made her temporarily forget about the heartache. When she was standing alone against the mirror, every ounce of pain from their past rushed back ruthlessly to her veins as she put her casual clothes on in the changing room. Unwittingly, the gown she made for herself had guided her into a fantasy world, but she understood it was not reality, and she could not hide behind it forever. She had convinced herself earlier that the reason she was sad was purely due to the feeling of letdown, but now, she knew she was using that as an excuse.
She kissed him earlier because she thought she had forgiven him. She truly wanted to get back with him and return to the way it was, because it would be so much simpler, for her as well as her friends. After all, she couldn’t help but suspect Ron and Hermione having something to do with tonight’s sudden change of events, because they were just too perfect to be solely due to coincidence, even if she really wanted to believe that foolishly.
Using the kiss as a test, she was convinced she could love him again, and let herself be loved by him again. She thought she could finally forget, and that she had been healed, but now, she understood she was only fooling herself, because the sense of endearment she always felt for him when they kissed was no longer there. Instead, the feelings that were rushing back were nothing but the suppressed anguish that was resurfaced when their lips met, letting her know the knot in her heart still had not been untied.
Despite the pain that was still grinding her heart, she was determined to try and get back with Harry, to accept his love, and to welcome him back to her life again. After tonight’s performance, she realized they were capable of beautiful things as a couple, and she was truly happy during the entire experience, as was him.
She once explained to Hermione that she was willing to do anything to make Harry happy because she loved him, and truly loving him would require her to put his interests first. She realized that she must return his love, because she was now rationalizing that he would be much more happier if he knew his love for her was being reciprocated. Perhaps in the process, she might enjoy being with him again, just like she was in tonight’s performance, and she would eventually release her tight grip on their past. After all, no one is perfect, she thought to herself. Everyone makes mistakes.
Fed up with her endless debates of the mind, she jumped out of her bed, wanting to tire herself out by doing something, anything. As soon as she spotted the unfinished jigsaw puzzle on the dresser, she immediately remembered Oliver’s mysterious disappearance. She had been so occupied with Harry she had forgotten about Oliver, and a grave sense of worry engulfed her, because there had to be something major to happen to stop him from competing. Now that the competition was over, she was no longer upset at him for abandoning her. Since she couldn’t sleep anyway, she hastily changed and decided to venture to the North Tower to check if he was all right.
As expected, the North Tower was deserted, just like the castle. As she climbed her way to the uppermost floor, the only sounds she could hear were the swirling winds bouncing through the stone halls. Walking along the empty halls, she was recalling their many months of grueling practice sessions, and how in the process, she had grown fond of Oliver as a friend and a person with an incredible work ethic. She enjoyed spending time with him in the practices; she was also grateful to him because she was never reminded of her past when she was with him, and for some reason, she could sense the same gratitude coming from him too.
During their practices, they would limit their conversations to their routine. It was as if both were trying to restrict a part of their lives from each other. A major reason for her participating in the competition was she wanted to be kept occupied. She wanted to fall asleep from physical tiredness, not from weariness as a result of crying, and Oliver was the ideal choice as a partner for her. Not only was he a skilled flyer, he was also a friendly face who treated her normally.
After making the final turn to the hallway leading to Oliver’s quarters, she could hear echoes of banging coming from his direction. Curious, she sped up and noticed that the thumping sounds were from his door opening and closing because of the drafty winds, and she wondered why the door would not just slam itself shut. As she examined his doorway, she could see something was awkwardly jammed at the bottom corner of the doorframe. It was a crumbled piece of parchment, and it was preventing the door from closing.
“Oliver, it’s Ginny,” she invited herself in and picked up the crumbled parchment, only to discover a motionless Oliver leaning over at his desk. He must have dozed off because his head was buried awkwardly on the desk, with one arm dangling to the side. His lamp was still turned on and a quill was on the floor. Looking around disapprovingly, the room was messy to the extreme, as if someone had hurled everything across the room. There were beer bottles everywhere. His costume was in a heap on the floor. Strangely, there was an owl sitting by the windowsill. There was also a wind chime and other unusual metal ornaments dangling at his window, making all kinds of furious noises because of the powerful winds from the high altitude.
“How can he sleep with all this racket?” she asked herself, tiptoeing next to him.
“Oliver… Oliver… It’s me… Ginny,” she gently shook his shoulder. But he did nothing except take a deep breath.
Suddenly remembering the parchment in her hand, she unfolded it and noticed scribbles of writings on it.
”My dear Yuriko:
Long time no see. How are you?”
Ginny could see the next sentence was madly crossed out, but she could still make out the words:
”I haven’t forgotten your face, your flowing black hair, your touch, and your perfume. I haven’t forgotten our seasons together, our every second, every dewdrop, falling leaf, snowflake, and sunshine that were ours, that just keep replaying in my mind.”
Ginny knew this letter was private and she should stop reading it now, but she couldn’t control her curiosity. Checking that Oliver was still asleep and feeling extremely guilty, she continued to read the letter:
”Evan and Daisy came to visit me today. They told me you secretly came back to London despite your father’s objections, and you managed to find a way to visit their Quidditch practice sessions by yourself. I guess after hanging around with a wizard like me for a few years, you picked up a few tricks to find our world without me.
I have asked them to give you my best regards next time they see you, and tell you I am doing fine, because I don’t think I will be able to do it directly. I’m afraid I will not be able to express myself, if I do see you again, if ever.
They said you asked about me and you wanted to know where I am. Don’t blame them for not telling you, because even they didn’t know where I have been until last week, and today I have asked them to not tell you, because I’m afraid…”
The lines on the rest of the letter were scratched out, but the emotional scratches could not mask the soulful words, because each of these words was cut thoroughly into the parchment. Seeing these deep cuts reminded her of her writing that aching story on the paper plane last year. She could painfully remember it like it was yesterday, when she was sitting alone by the lakeside, carving her pain on the parchment, word by word, letter by letter, and comma by comma. She was pressing on the quill so hard it snapped in two pieces and she couldn’t finish her last sentence at the end. Tears began to flood her eyes as she continued to read:
”…it will hurt even more if you were to find me, if we were to see each other again.
My pain of really wanting to see you but not having to courage to see you, the pain of wishing to see you but not seeing you, not seeing you again, ever again.
Your little vegetable dumplings, rice paper rolls, I promise, I promise you, I will never forget, never forget, never.
About the fact that you chose to leave me, I can only say I respect your decision, but I have to tell you, I really did wait for you that day. You have to believe me. Please believe me. I really did. I truly did, wait for you, that day.
In the future, when you eventually stop remembering me, remembering us, just toss the letter out the window to the winds, and let the rain wash away the ink, the words, and the memories.
Goodbye, my Yuriko.
-- Oliver Wood --”
She picked up the quill tearfully; unlike her quill last year, the tip on this one was not snapped in two pieces. That was why he was able to finish his letter.
Gazing at Oliver excruciatingly, she noticed an envelope was tucked underneath his face. Judging from the spots on his cheeks, she could see they were the remnants of tears that had been dried by the wind, the type of scars she was all too familiar with. As she gently yanked the envelope out, something sparkled out from it. It was an engagement ring.
She quickly recovered the ring, but before she tucked it back in the envelope, she spotted some carvings on it, “Yuriko Nanikawa.”
The pain she had been harboring since last year was unleashing itself through her tears now as she unknowingly rested her hand in his hair, seemingly trying to comfort him even though he was asleep. She had finally understood Oliver’s pain as she could still recall the day they met at Angeline’s Café not too long ago, when his face darkened as soon as she asked him about his girlfriend and the engagement ring. At that moment, she saw her reflection in him, as if he was her mirror, and she realized he was suffering from the same kind of wounds as her. That day, she took comfort knowing that even a strapping guy like him was unable to withstand the pain she was suffering from, and she empathized with him and invited him to stay at the Burrow.
Suddenly, there was a powerful current of wind blowing across the room, igniting the wind chime and ornaments to come roaring alive, followed by a loud banging sound coming from behind her. Turning around, she noticed the door had been slammed shut because of the winds. She immediately leaped to the door and pulled at the doorknob, but it was jammed.
She patted her pockets weakly, searching for her wand, only to remember that she had left it in her costume. She peered around his messy room behind her watery eyes, hoping to locate Oliver’s wand, but everything was too hazy, because her eyes were simply too heavy with tears.
“Oliver, Oliver, please…” she whimpered through her cries and shook his heaving shoulder again, but he was still in deep sleep, oblivious to all the noise around him.
The owl that was sitting by the windowsill dashed out of the room just before Ginny closed the window to silence the winds and the racket from the wind chime and ornaments. Once the window was closed, all that was left in the room were sounds of her muffled cries. After wrapping a blanket around Oliver, she lounged tiredly on his bed as she reread his letter. It appeared that all the tears she hadn’t shed these past three months were crying to come out now. She retrieved his pillow from the floor and buried her face in it, forgetting that his letter was still crumbled in her hand. She would not have guessed that she would get back to her old habits so quickly right after the end of the competition, because she found herself once again crying herself to sleep.
The Boy Next Door by gossipweaver
Chapter Notes: “In the future, when you’ll eventually stop remembering me, just toss the letter to the winds, and let the rain wash away the ink, the words, and the memories… Goodbye, my Yuriko.” ~ Oliver Wood ~