Ginny Weasley lay on her bed, staring at the slight cracks in the ceiling; the result of having Fred and George inhabit the room directly above for so many years. She smiled as she absentmindedly recalled the weeks towards of the end of her fifth year; walking hand in hand with Harry, snogging by the lake, and then falling asleep against him in the common room. This was coupled with the panic and stress of studying for O.W.L.s, but Harry was the best at calming her when she threw down her books in frustration. He was the person she wanted to be with, but he’d ended it, hadn’t he?
As she remembered him leaving her after Dumbledore’s funeral, Ginny felt the rare sensation of a tight stomach and a lump in her throat. With difficulty, she fought back the tears. She hadn’t cried when he’d said –we can’t be togetherâ€. She’d put on a brave face and grinned. –It’s for some stupid, noble reason, isn’t it?†That’s what she’d told him whilst concealing the deep hurt from her face.
She lay on her back; thinking. She was riddled with worry. Harry was leaving in one week - the day after he turned 17. Leaving with Ron and Hermione to hunt after Voldemort. The idea sounded ridiculous in her head; tracking Voldemort, the day after coming of age.
The only person she could think of that had been so fearless of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had been over 150 years old, but was now dead, killed by Voldemort’s right hand man.
Dumbledore: killed by the man he trusted. The thought of Snape made her blood boil and run cold at the same time. Snape, a mere follower of Voldemort, who was meant to be a spy for their own side. And Dumbledore had trusted him.
Her biggest fear was that in a war it was very optimistic to hope that all three would come back alive. She couldn’t bear the thought of losing Harry, Ron, or Hermione. And then there was her family. The fear gripped her like a vice and she violently forced it out of her mind. Ever since the return of You-Know-Who this had been happening more and more frequently.
Ginny redirected her thoughts to Harry’s birthday to distract herself. She had not been able to think of anything to give him as a present, and this year she felt that it had to be flawless. Not only was it his 17th, but it would be the last day before he left for his perilous task.
She knew he wouldn’t expect a present from her, but it was important to her to choose something that he would value. It could maybe be something useful against Voldemort or something to bring a little humour and happiness back into his world. That seemed to be lacking lately. There had been a lot of serious talking with Ron and Hermione that stopped the instant anyone drew near.
Ginny allowed herself to remember the brief time in which they were a pair. It was something she rarely let herself indulge in and normally fought away forcefully.
She remembered one night in particular. She hadn’t been able to sleep with her mind churning with exam revision and had come down to sit by the fire of the common room. As she walked down the staircase Ginny had seen the firelight dancing off Harry’s jet black hair. He started when he heard her footsteps but wordlessly reached out for her. They had sat there for a long time without talking. Ginny recalled the burning warmth of his body and how she could very faintly make out his heartbeat and her own in the silence.
After a while he spoke, his voice croaky from lack of speech. They talked in whispers until the common room began to lighten. She told him how she was worried about her Potion O.W.Ls and even more scared about the uprising of Voldemort and his safety and how terrified of losing everyone she was. Harry comforted her, and confided that the burden of defeating Voldemort was made worse by the prophecy and that he was losing confidence that he could ever succeed and free the magical world from this tyranny.
‘Harry,’ she whispered. ‘Are you…does it make you…scared?’
He had looked her straight in the eyes, considering her. Then he dropped his gaze.
‘Ginny,’ he said earnestly. ‘I’m terrified. But, I know I have to do it, and it’s not that I feel obligated,’ he stated quickly as Ginny made to interrupt. ‘Dumbledore said I would never be satisfied until Voldemort was gone. And he is right.’
Ginny realized how honest Harry was being with her and how difficult it was. She forced herself not flinch at the name this time. All she did was lay her small hand on his arm. He pulled her close, burying his face in her hair.
She felt Harry’s smile against h…
She jumped as the door suddenly swung open. Hermione walked in and sat on the camp bed beside Ginny’s bed.
‘Did I scare you, Ginny? I’m sorry,’ she apologized. ‘Are you ready to go to sleep yet?’
Hermione slid her legs beneath her blankets.
Ginny did not want to talk; her mind was still buzzing with thoughts. It was times like this she could make use of Dumbledore’s stone Pensieve.
‘I have to clean my teeth,’ she murmured vaguely and wandered to the bathroom.
Ginny sat on the floor next to the shower, knees tucked up to her chest, combing her fingers absentmindedly through her flaming red hair. She mentally shook herself.
Ginny brushed her teeth and returned to her room. Hermione was sitting up in bed, not reading a thick tome as usual, but searching through a small, purple beaded purse. After a moments rummaging, she folded a sweater, reordered a few books and placed the tiny bag by her bed. Even being brought up magically, it was still strange for Ginny to see huge books and clothes placed into something of that size.
‘Ready?’ Hermione asked, her wand pointed at the light. She pushed her hair off her face.
‘Yes,’ replied Ginny. She slipped into her bed as Hermione’s wand swished and flicked and the room was thrown into darkness by a non-verbal incantation.
Silence. A sigh. It was so quiet that Ginny heard the noise of Hermione’s mouth opening to speak softly. ‘Ginny, what’s wrong?’
‘I’m OK, Hermione, she whispered. ‘It’s just, Harry’s been on my mind a lot.’
‘I can tell,’ Hermione murmured. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’
Ginny didn’t, but her mouth opened anyway.
‘How can he - how can you and Ron, really go after You-Know-Who? Harry isn’t even legally allowed to use magic for another week!’
Her outburst was followed by silence.
‘I know,’ said Hermione quietly. ‘I keep looking for some logic to stop us, to make us see reason. But Ginny, this is a war. Reason and logic don’t exist. And I know you know that. I also know that you understand it, or else Harry would not be going. If you’d set your mind to stopping him, you’d have succeeded long ago.’ Ginny could hear the weak smile in her friend’s voice.
‘Yes,’ she agreed quietly, a small smile appearing on her face. She knew she could convince Harry to stay, but I wouldn’t make either of them happy. She had long since realized that this rushing off to take responsibility was part of his personality, and something that she loved about him.
‘You do know that I understand,’ she said into the darkness, ‘and you know that I want to come and that I can help. But there’s no point asking, is there? Harry will forbid it, Ron too. And Mum, Dad, all my brothers…’ she listed.
‘And me, Ginny,’ interrupted Hermione. ‘I don’t want Harry or Ron go. But Harry is the only one who can do this and I can’t send him out alone. If I were in your position, I know I wouldn’t handle it well. Ginny, how are you managing it?’
‘I’m not,’ Ginny confessed. ‘I’m not managing it at all, Hermione. I’m terrified. People are going to die, life will change, and I don’t know what to do.’ Ginny’s voice had risen a little.
Silence again. Ginny rolled onto her back, making out the shapes in the room, slowing her breathing, keeping the tears away. She felt panicked, lost, insignificant, weak and out of control. She wanted her mum to come in, pull her close and tell her that everything would be OK, as she did when Ginny was younger. Without realizing it, she drifted into sleep.
When Ginny woke again it was still dark, perhaps around 3am. She heard Hermione shift in her camp bed.
‘Ginny?’ Hermione whispered.
‘Huh?’ was Ginny’s groggy reply.
‘You were talking, in your sleep.’ Hermione told her. Ginny was confused. She didn’t even remember what she’d been dreaming about.
‘What did I…?’ she began.
‘Well,’ said Hermione slowly. ‘You were, you mentioned…Harry’s name, a bit.’
Pieces of the dream began to come back to Ginny now. There were bits of fear, of longing and of that empty feeling she had been trying to ignore for the past month. She lay awake for a while, wanting to talk but not knowing what to say. Ginny pushed Harry from her mind and eventually went back to sleep.
After lunch that day, Ginny and Hermione went for a walk and ended up lazing under the large oak tree in the field behind the Burrow. Ginny broke the tired silence with something that had been troubling her the night before.
‘What do you think I should get Harry for his birthday?’
‘Well, I got him a new Sneakoscope,’ Hermione told her, ‘but that’s not the sort of thing a girlfriend could get him.’
‘Ex,’ said Ginny quietly. ‘But what does an ex give for a seventeenth birthday?’
‘Ginny, I don’t think he sees you as an ex,’ Hermione said, matter-of fact. Ginny rolled her eyes.
‘Tell me this,’ Hermione tried. ‘What would you like from him?’
Ginny didn’t need to think about it. ‘A kiss,’ she answered immediately. ‘Even a hug would do. For him not to avoid my eyes whenever we happen to be in the same room.’
Hermione rolled her eyes, though was not quite quick enough at hiding the sad look in them. –Physical things, Ginny. A broom, books?â€
‘He just lost his Firebolt, Hermione, but what would he do with a new broom now? Same with books. He’s leaving in a few days, for Merlin knows how long. And besides, I really don’t have that kind of gold. Anyway,’ she continued. –If it were me, the only thing I’d want is to have a moment the way things were before… well…â€
Ginny waited until the lights were out before turning to the silhouette in the bed opposite.
–Hermione?†she whispered. –I’ve been thinking about Harry’s birthday.†Ginny had thought about it all day.
–Have you decided on a present?†Hermione asked with interest.
–Well…†said Ginny. –I was wondering if you would be able to help me.â€
–In what way?†asked Hermione slowly.
–I’ve decided the best present is a goodbye kiss,†Ginny explained frankly. –I really miss him, Hermione,†she explained.
Hermione hesitated. ‘He misses you too,’ she said, although slowly, as though it was against her better judgment. Ginny had suspected this, but that didn’t stop the familiar feeling bubbling in her stomach.