5. Hogsmeade: Reconciliation
Hermione’s announcement stunned Ginny. Half an hour! That was not long enough. It was unfair. She swore loudly, prompting an annoyed, ‘Really, Ginny!’ from the Head Girl.
Ginny ignored her friend’s scolding, concentrating on what was important. ‘What happens if we’re late?’ she asked Hermione.
‘Hogsmeade privileges are revoked for one or more visits,’ Hermione said. ‘It’s the Headmistress’s decision.’
‘Damn,’ said Ginny, scowling. She would have accepted a month of detentions and she’d even have considered a Quidditch ban, but missing Hogsmeade meant missing Harry’s next visit.
Harry looked downcast again. ‘I’ll see you at the Slytherin match,’ he said sadly, ‘and then at the November Hogsmeade visit, unless you don’t make it back in time today.’ He shifted his feet nervously. ‘Do you want me to walk you back to school? Or would you rather fly?’
‘Being with you is better than flying,’ Ginny told him forcefully. He finally cracked a smile, the first real smile he’d given her since she’d surprised him outside Honeydukes several dark bleak days ago. ‘Walk me to the gates, please, and we can talk on the way. We can stay outside the school gates until the last possible minute.’
She scurried to the pegs by the door and hurriedly searched through the cloaks to find her own. Several others had been hung on top of it. She hauled them off and threw them at Ron.
‘Sort these out for me, please,’ she begged. Ron smiled and nodded. She looked around for her broom; it was missing. She panicked for a second, until she realised that Harry, his coat already buttoned, was holding it for her.
‘I’ll see you later,’ said Harry, waving farewell to the DA as he opened the door. Ginny felt a sudden pang of jealousy. Harry could come back, the party could continue, and she’d be stuck in school. He allowed her to step outside first. She stepped into the lane, and into a series of camera flashes.
‘Mr Potter, Mr Potter,’ a reporter called, ‘is it true that you’re entertaining a dozen girls in there, some still at school?’
‘Sod off!’ Ginny exploded. Harry, his face pale, stood in the pub door and said nothing. The camera continued to flash. Ginny fought back the urge to hex the photographer. Instead, she slipped past her boyfriend and darted back into the pub.
‘Guys,’ she begged, in her best “little-girl-lost” voice, ‘could you give us some help, please? The press are outside.’
George was at the door in an instant. He was closely followed by Dennis, Ron, Lee and Neville. Harry stepped aside and let them pass. George moved towards the photographer, trying to keep himself between the camera and Harry. He pulled several Weasley products from his cloak and began a well rehearsed sales pitch, trying to sell them to the photographer. Ron, Neville and Dennis did their best to prevent the photographer from avoiding George. Lee, meanwhile, approached the journalist and began asking him questions.
Ginny and Harry finally had their opportunity to escape. She grabbed his hand. ‘Wanna fly my broom?’ she asked. ‘I wouldn’t let anyone else do it!’ she added with a smile.
Harry grinned and straddled the broom. She sat behind him and wrapped her arms tightly around his chest. He was still lean, but he was getting noticeably more muscular.
‘As fast as you like,’ she suggested. He kicked off and they shot almost vertically into the air. He was flying away from the school, towards the village. As he pushed the broom at maximum acceleration, Ginny’s cloak and her unbound hair fluttered in the slipstream.
‘How d’you think the press found out?’ Harry asked as he levelled off the broom. Ginny’s first (and uncharitable) thought was to blame Cho. But that, she admitted to herself, was unlikely.
‘Keep flying fast,’ she shouted, ‘it helps me think.’
‘Me, too,’ he replied, taking a hand from the broom and squeezing hers, which were still clasped around his chest. For a moment, she was thankful that the press had come. Flying was a passion for Harry; he used it to clear his head. It was the same with her. She took a few minutes to gather her thoughts while simultaneously concentrating on the pleasure of tightly holding Harry’s chest. He dropped the broom low and turned sharply. She heard his gasp of pleasure at the manoeuvrability of her Nimbus Stormcloud as they sped back towards the school.
‘No one in the DA,’ she assured Harry, confident that her trust was justified. But who else knew?
‘Romilda,’ decided Ginny. ‘Nev will have told her where he was going, and she was annoyed that we took her boyfriend away from her.’ She felt a pang of guilt when she said that. Neville and Hannah had been talking intensely when they had left. She didn’t like Romilda, but Nev apparently did. She shouldn’t have encouraged Hannah.
‘Romilda?’ queried Harry. ‘Do you think so? What should we do?’
She should try to be nice to Romilda, for Neville’s sake, she knew. But how could she be nice to Romilda Vane, the girl who had almost got Ron killed “ even for Neville? She couldn’t.
‘There’s nothing we can do about it now, Harry, except hope that Nev ditches her.’
‘That’s unlikely,’ replied Harry. ‘I sit next to him at work, and he never talks about anyone else. Ron says that he’s as pathetic as…’
Harry stopped in mid-sentence and Ginny felt him tense. They were rapidly approaching the school gate, but that wasn’t the reason for his tension. She gave him an encouraging hug.
‘… as pathetic as we are,’ Harry admitted. ‘Three trainee Aurors and three schoolgirls. The older guys rib us constantly. At least Ron and I only have to wait until next summer. Neville has still got another year to be teased. I’ll talk to him about Romilda on Monday, if you want me to.’
‘No,’ Ginny said firmly. ‘We don’t know that it was Romilda. I could be wrong. Let’s just forget it.’
Harry pulled up the broom and they landed gently a few yards away from the gate. Several younger children were already making their way back into the school grounds. A giggling group of third year girls stood and stared as Ginny and Harry dismounted. Harry handed her the broom and ignored the whispers from the girls. Ginny curled her lip at them and snarled; the girls fled through the gates.
‘It flies well. It’s not quite as fast as a Firebolt,’ he said nervously, ‘but it seems to be more manoeuvrable. Do you like it?’
‘Of course,’ Ginny smiled, ‘it was a seventeenth birthday present from my boyfriend. I love it and treasure it.’
Harry looked pleased, but confused, too. ‘Have I been stupid again? Am I being stupid again?’ he asked.
Ginny shook her head firmly. He was blaming himself again. He probably always would “ for everything, Harry “it’s my fault” Potter.
‘Not as stupid as I’ve been, Harry,’ she assured him as they walked towards the school gate.
‘Pupils only,’ Filch reminded Harry bumptiously.
‘That’s fine,’ snapped Ginny. ‘I’m staying out here until it’s time for you to close the gates.’ She grabbed Harry’s hand and led him off the path along the edge of the high boundary wall. They scrunched through the piles of autumn leaves, scattering a rustling line of scarlet, amber and brown in their wake. The leaves had formed a wind blown and unstable embankment against the high stone wall surrounding the school. As they walked alongside the wall, the smells of autumn greeted them; damp air, wet leaves, early leaf mulch, and decaying timber pervaded the atmosphere. They stopped a few dozen yards from the gate.
‘I wanted today to be perfect for us,’ began Ginny, leaning against the wall. The dry leaves almost reached her knees. ‘It’s been good, and the party was a great idea, but between us, it’s been a bit of a disaster, hasn’t it?’
‘Sorry,’ apologised Harry.
‘What are you sorry for?’ she asked quietly. ‘I don’t think that you’ve done anything wrong. What do you think that you’ve done that you need to apologise for?’
‘Er,’ Harry began. There wasn’t time for Harry’s “er’s,” though, so she interrupted him.
‘You miss me; that’s obvious, and I miss you, too. I miss you so much that sometimes I think I’m going crazy. At least you write to me; you write wonderful letters to me.’
‘You write great letters to me, too,’ Harry told her seriously. She waited silently, but he didn’t take the bait; he didn’t talk about his last letter. She tried a different line.
‘Ron told me off today,’ Ginny informed her boyfriend. ‘He told me not to mess you about,’
Harry gave her a rueful smile. ‘I hope that you weren’t too hard on him; he means well. He’s a good man, your brother.’
‘I know,’ said Ginny, ‘he wouldn’t be your best friend if he wasn’t. I wasn’t hard on him at all. He’s not the most sensitive person I know, so if he spotted that I’ve hurt your feelings, then…’
Harry stopped her by gently placing an ice-cold finger on her lips. He wasn’t dressed for flying, but neither was she; she shivered.
He looked seriously at her. ‘It’s not your fault, either, you know; I have been a bit foolish today. I was worried and confused and jealous. I was a bit crazy, I … the other guys … they … that vest.’
‘Next time,’ she reassured him, ‘I won’t wear the vest.’
Harry raised an eyebrow, then began to chuckle. It was a low, almost dirty, noise she hadn’t heard before. He was blushing at the same time.
‘You should definitely keep your jumper on, in that case. No matter how hot it is. Otherwise you’ll cause an even bigger fuss amongst the other blokes.’
She slapped his arm softly. ‘That’s not what I meant, and you know it,’ she began to protest. Catching the twinkle in his laughing green eyes, she began to giggle, and then she burst out into hopeless, helpless, relieved laughter. She fell into his arms, slipped her arms around his back and then slid them up to hold his shoulders.
‘Oh, Merlin, Harry, I’ve missed you.’
She hugged him tightly. Taking a deep breath, she pulled herself together, looked up into his eyes and tried to explain.
‘The vest was for you,’ she clarified.
‘It definitely won’t fit me,’ Harry replied, his expression serious, his eyes mischievous. She fought down her frustration. Her attempt to have a serious conversation was being met by humour. It was Honeydukes, but in reverse. She pulled herself up towards him and tried to kiss him. It was a feeble attempt; his response was cautious, tentative.
‘That doesn’t count,’ she announced, ‘it certainly wasn’t one of them.’
‘One of what?’ asked Harry curiously.
‘The kisses from your letters,’ she explained. ‘Remember what you wrote: “one’s enough, if it’s a good one.” You owe me sixteen good kisses, Harry.’
‘And you owe me fourteen, and, if that was one of the ones from your first letter, twenty-three more not-so-good ones,’ he replied. He looked serious; the mischief was gone from his eyes, and Ginny, for once, was having difficulty recognising his mood.
She released him, reached up, and cupped his cheeks in her hands. Sliding her fingers back around his ears and into his hair she interlocked them at the back of his head and gently pulled him down towards her. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed his chin.
‘Twenty-two,’ she said. She continued kissing him tenderly. Her lips travelled up his jaw, and she counted down all of the way. Upon reaching eighteen, she traversed his cheek. She reached his nose on fourteen and continued across the other cheek (ten) and back down his jaw to his chin. ‘Six,’ she smiled. He smiled cautiously back at her. She pulled his head lower, kissed his nose, then his eyebrows, ‘five, four and three,’ then kissed his forehead ‘two, one,’ she murmured, ‘and finally, zero.’ She gently kissed his scar. The skin was smooth but hard against her lips; she held him there for some time, held her lips to his scar until his hands, which had remained hanging loosely by his side throughout her kisses finally, tenderly encircled her waist. She gently lowered herself down and looked into his eyes.
‘Your turn,’ she told him, ‘the first of sixteen good kisses, please.’ Harry hesitated.
‘Do you want to talk?’ she enquired. ‘Ask me anything. I promise that I’ll tell you the truth.’
Harry sighed, returned her gaze, and made a decision.
‘Honestly, why did you wear such a tight vest?’ he demanded.
‘For you, I thought that you’d like it,’ she replied. He looked at her in disbelief. ‘You did the first morning after you came to The Burrow, in the summer.’
‘At The Burrow it was just us, in my bedroom”Charlie’s bedroom. The only blokes around were your brothers, and they were downstairs, and it wasn’t so tight,’ he emphasised. ‘If that’s what you were doing, why did you hide it under a jumper?’
‘I wanted to surprise you, too.’
‘Surprise me! You surprised everyone,’ he retorted, ‘so why did you take it off when you did?’
He was hurt; his questioning was almost aggressive. Ginny looked into his eyes. “No secrets,” she reminded herself. Perhaps honesty was the best policy.
‘You were talking to Cho,’ she admitted. ‘I don’t like you talking to Cho, sorry.’
Harry looked at her in stunned silence. Ginny watched and waited. He looked surprised and carefully mulled over what she had. His expression moved from surprise, through bemusement, and finally came to disappointment.
‘Say something!’ she begged. ‘Please.’
‘Jealous?’ he teased. She realised she deserved that.
‘That’s the truth,’ she told him. ‘Sorry.’
‘Why?’ he asked. ‘Why Cho?’
‘She kissed you first.’
‘Michael kissed you first,’ he said reasonably, ‘but I’m not bothered by him talking to you.’
Ginny caught the inflection in his voice; Harry obviously was worried about someone else. Now was not the time to admit that Michael was not the first boy she’d kissed.
‘I’m not interested in anyone else, Harry. Not Michael, not Dean, no one but you,’ she reassured him. ‘I…’ she caught herself again; don’t say the ‘L’ word. ‘I fancy you. I want only you.’
‘You will have kissed and been kissed by dozens more people than I have,’ observed Harry thoughtfully. ‘The first kiss I remember was from Hermione. You’re not jealous of her, too, are you?’
‘Of course not,’ said Ginny dismissively. ‘She’s my friend, and she’s never fancied you … I’ve been kissed by my parents, aunts, uncles, brothers.” She stopped. “Oh, damn it, Harry!’ she exclaimed at last. ‘You don’t need to worry about them, or about my old boyfriends. I just want to make up with you. To kiss and make up.’
‘Sometimes, I worry too much. I’m sorry,’ he asserted. ‘So there’s no one else?’
‘No,’ she assured him, ‘and you’re not trying to get back with your ex?’
‘Definitely not,’ he emphasized, ‘I’m not sure what I saw in her. She’s quite pretty, I suppose, but…’ He looked into her eyes and she gazed back into the clear green depths of his.
‘Do you realise how beautiful you are?’ Harry asked.
‘What? How can I answer that?’ she protested. ‘If I say yes, I’m big-headed. If I say no, then I’m simply fishing for compliments. Anyway, according to Aunt Muriel, I’m short and stocky and ginger and freckled.’
‘You’re petite, curvy, chocolate-eyed, flame-haired and perfect,’ he told her forcefully. ‘And…’ he hesitated.
‘And?’ she asked hopefully, her heart pounding.
He put two fingers under her chin and gently lifted her head. ‘And I owe you sixteen very good kisses.’
At Harry’s words, Ginny realised that it wasn’t going to happen, not today. The three little words she’d hoped for hung unsaid between them, waiting for another time. The next time we meet, she promised herself, after he’s written more letters. He’ll say it the next time. He will definitely say it if we beat the Slytherins in five weeks time. Her eyes lit up at the thought of post victory celebrations with Harry. But now, she faced more than a month without him.
He cupped her cheeks in his hands; his thumbs were together at the point of her chin. He slowly lowered his lips towards hers. As he did so he slid his thumbs down her chin and neck, halting at her clavicle. For a second his hands encircled her neck before they moved apart. It was an odd, slightly unnerving gesture. Then his right hand slipped back up into her hair, his left slid down to the small of her back and continued down to her bum. His tongue darted out to moisten his cold and dry lips.
His kiss was tentative and tender; his lips brushed hers lightly. His hand held the back of her skull firmly as he deepened the kiss. He was breathing softly through his nose. She felt the warmth of his breath on her cold cheek. His tongue caressed her lips but travelled no further. It was a kiss of restrained passion. I want you, it told her. And I want you to want me. He closed his mouth, let his lips linger on hers for a teasing second, and then pulled away. He sucked in a deep breath.
‘Was that a good kiss?’ he asked. She almost asked, “Have you been practicing?” but decided not to tease. Instead, she nodded.
‘My turn, I think,’ she said. She unbuttoned his overcoat and slipped her arms around him. ‘My hands are cold,’ she explained. She grabbed his well-muscled backside and pulled him close.
‘You’re mine, Harry, I want you, no one else.’ She stood on tiptoe and kissed him, gently nibbling his lower lip until he began to respond, to return the passion. She pulled herself forwards, trying to press every part of her body against every part of his. She felt his hands slide inside her cloak and down onto her rear, pulling her closer. She wrapped one leg around his and pulled herself even closer. When she did so, she felt him physically reacting to her closeness, her passion. She let out an involuntary moan and pressed herself into him.
They stayed like that until they were interrupted by Hermione hissing. ‘Harry, Ginny, the reporter is on his way, and it’s time to go back into school.’
Ginny reluctantly released her boyfriend.
‘I’m closing the gate in one minute,’ Filch snarled.
‘C’mon, Ginny, please,’ Hermione begged. She stood in the gate alongside Ron, their arms wrapped around each other. Ginny wondered how long they’d been there.
Ginny stepped back from Harry, who was as reluctant to let her go as she was to release him. She smiled sorrowfully at her boyfriend.
‘See you at the match,’ she told him, as brightly as she could. Hand in hand, they ran to the school entrance. Ginny released Harry’s hand and squeezed past Ron and Hermione, who were snogging in the gateway, physically preventing a complaining Filch from closing the gate. As Ginny squeezed into the school, Hermione’s watch chimed again. Hermione stepped sadly back from Ron.
‘Bye, Harry. Bye, Ron,’ Hermione called. Ginny turned and waved, but didn’t speak. Ron, she noticed, had a consoling hand on Harry’s shoulder.
‘Now,’ Hermione told Filch, thrusting her watch under his nose, ‘it’s time for you to close the gate.’
‘Bye, Ginny. I miss you,’ Harry shouted. Filch leered maliciously at Ginny and banged the gate closed in triumph. Ginny glared hatefully back at the caretaker and wondered how easy it would be to fire Dungblaster missiles into his office. She turned to see Hermione watching her. The Head Girl was smiling sadly. Together, they trudged disconsolately back to the school.
Aurors and Schoolgirls by Northumbrian
Chapter Notes: Harry and Ginny finally manage to snatch a few minutes alone together.
Chapter Endnotes: Thanks (in alphabetical order) to Amelíe, Andrea, Apurva and Natalie for their comments, corrections and input. Please review. Constructive criticism is always gratefully received.