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SIYE Time:1:14 on 29th March 2024
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Losing Each Other
By MyGinevra

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Category: Post-HBP, Buried Gems
Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, Nymphadora Tonks, Other, Ron Weasley
Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Romance
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 169
Summary: This story follows Harry and Ginny from their parting after Dumbledore's funeral. Much of it is told from Ginny's POV. The first chapter, "Ginny's Mermaid," was originally posted as a one-shot. I have revised it slightly as part of this longer story, but it is essentially the same as it was when I first posted it.
Hitcount: Story Total: 105834; Chapter Total: 5130







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Ginny lifted her head from Harry’s shoulder. “I got your robe all wet,” she sniffled.

Harry brushed tears from her face. “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

He had had a brief impulse to get up and run to his room or outside to the White Tomb. Ginny had known, and she had not let it happen. She engulfed him and held him in place with the weight of her body, with her breathing, her heartbeat, her smell, her hair, her arms around his neck. And when he knew that he would not run, that Ginny would not let him, the strength that he had described to her and to Professor Flitwick surged; it rose from inside, up through his chest, into his arms and his brain. It felt like an avalanche running uphill, irresistible and overwhelming.

“Where’s your lion?” He held his hand out and Ginny reached into her robes and gave it to him.

“Do it!” she whispered fiercely, and stood up.

Ron and Hermione also stood, and a few students sitting nearby looked; a sense that something was about to happen filled the air. Harry rose and put the clasp on the arm of his chair; he narrowed his eyes and stared at it, but nothing happened. Then a beam of sunlight came through a window as the sun broke from behind a cloud, and the light fell on the wall next to the fireplace. Harry looked at the dust motes dancing in the beam, then at the clasp. It flashed.

“Hello!” Ron cried, and Hermione clapped her hands. Harry looked at Ginny and grinned.

Dean Thomas was peering over Ron’s shoulder. “Hey, Harry, what did you do to Ginny’s lion?”

“Uh, nothing.” Harry quickly picked it up and handed it to Ginny. “I was just trying something that Flitwick showed me.”

“Yeah, but that thing wasn’t supposed to be magical. George Weasley –“

“Dean!” Ginny pulled him into their circle. “Harry was trying something new. It’s a trick he learned from Professor Flitwick, but please don’t tell anyone. Flitwick didn’t think Harry could do it, and we want to surprise him.” Dean grinned briefly and walked away.

“That was pretty lame,” Ron said quietly when they sat down.

“He won’t say anything,” Ginny answered. She glanced at Harry; he was staring at the sunbeam.

Hermione spoke. “That was excellent, Harry. What happened? Did you make a connection between the sun and the lion?”

“I’m not really sure. It was more like I put the sunlight into the lion. But it wasn’t hard. I just had to find the right feeling, and it worked.” He looked at Ginny. “Let’s take a walk outside.”

They wore their warmest cloaks, but it was still cold, and they kept their arms tightly about each other’s waist. They walked into the shade of a grove of tall pines near the lake. Harry took the lion clasp from Ginny’s pocket and put it in her hair.

“Not like that,” she giggled, and adjusted it so that it was how she would wear it in a Quidditch match. She stepped back, but before she could take a second step it flashed again. “Hey, what are you doing?” she laughed, and it quickly flashed two more times. Harry backed away, and as he did the clasp flashed every few seconds. Ginny watched him with her mouth hanging open. She gingerly put her hand to it. It flashed again, and she jumped, but didn’t move her hand.

“I can’t feel anything,” she called to Harry who was now about fifty paces away. “It’s perfect!” She held her hands out, and he came back to her gleaming eyes. They did not notice the cold for quite a while.

Harry continued to practice with the hair clip for the next few days, until Ginny finally asked him to stop. He could do it without even being in the same room, as long as he knew where it was, and he was awakening her and the Pygmy Puffs in the middle of the night by making it flash on the dresser in her room.

“You should get serious about it,” Hermione told him. It was Saturday morning in late January and they were all walking down to the lake. It had turned warmer, and since they had been neglecting their Patronuses for a couple of weeks they decided to practice before lunch. The Weasley twins and Elspeth’s father would be at their Quidditch practice in the afternoon.

“What do you mean?” Harry said. “We’re going to use it in the match. What could be more serious than Quidditch?” He grinned at Ginny.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Harry, you know what I mean. Some day you’re going to need it. It could make a big difference.” She looked at Ginny, who was frowning. “I’m sorry,” Hermione apologized, “I know you’re supposed to be on holiday from Voldemort, but it’s such a powerful weapon. Maybe you could talk to Professor Flitwick, and he could help you.”

“Hermione, I think I know what I’m doing. Maybe the war will be won on the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch.”

“What’s that mean?” Ron asked.

Hermione rolled her eyes again. “He means that what he learns from doing magic in Quidditch will help defeat Voldemort.”

“You know, that makes sense,” Ron said. “Good thinking, mate. The more Quidditch we play, the sooner we win the war. I like that.”

“That’s stupid, Ron.” Hermione was becoming irritated. “If you wanted –“

“All right!” Harry stopped and put his hands up. “Can we do what we came out here to do? I’ll talk to Flitwick, okay?”

They began practicing, and even though they had not done it for two weeks, Ginny and Ron were now able to keep their Patronuses up almost as long as Harry and Hermione. The highlight of the morning was Hermione’s otter. As soon as it emerged and spotted the lake it dove into the water and a geyser of steam erupted. The geyser followed the otter as it swam in circles for about a minute, and then it died out when the otter vanished.

In the afternoon they had their second Quidditch practice without Madame Hooch, who had still not said anything about her own practices. Edward Pendragon, small and wiry, was a quick flyer. He had been a Chaser when he played at Hogwarts, and he thoroughly approved of Harry’s strategy of breaking Ginny free for long passes. He also showed all of the Chasers some nifty feinting and dodging techniques.

“Using long passes has a double advantage,” he remarked to Harry as they sat on their brooms high above the pitch, watching the Chasers zipping and turning. “It gives you more scoring chances, and it forces the Beaters to play back instead of pressing up like they did in your first match. I think Ron won’t have as many shots against him this time. The down side is that you only get one shot at goal, and there’s no chance to pass the Quaffle off.”

“Uh, oh.” Harry pointed. “There’s Hooch.” Madame Hooch had entered the stadium and was looking up at the Chasers; she had her broomstick in her hand. It was hard to tell from a distance, but she didn’t seem angry.

“Stay here,” Edward said. “I’ll talk to her.” He gave Harry a mysterious grin and dove toward the ground. Harry flew over to Ron; the Beaters, with George and Fred, had gathered around the goals and were watching Madame Hooch. Edward landed next to her and they began an animated conversation. Hooch pointed to the group around Harry. Pendragon leaned on his broomstick and they talked for a few minutes, then they shook hands. They flew up to Harry where the entire team now waited, and Pendragon nodded to Hooch.

She was even more brisk than usual. “Mr. Pendragon and I have agreed to split the coaching duties. I’ll be working with the Keeper and Beaters, he’ll be with the Chasers and Seeker.” The team looked at each other; they were all surprised, and Elspeth even seemed a little upset. But before they could move away, Hooch spoke again. “Mr. Potter, I want to say that I appreciate your telling me what your plans were. I always believe that the team comes first, and obviously so do you.” She ducked away and zoomed over to one of the goals.

“Okay,” said Ron. “Let’s give it a go.”

The rest of practice went well, and afterward, on their way back to the castle, Ron gave Madame Hooch some not—so—reluctant compliments “She knows her stuff as far as Keeping is concerned. I guess she’s just oriented toward defense. What do you think, Ginny? Can Elspeth’s dad help the Chasers?”

“He already has. I think we’ll definitely score some goals this time. But I also think it’s all going to come down to the Seekers again.”

“What’s with Hooch and Elspeth’s dad?” Harry said. “When he flew down to talk to her he acted kind of funny.”

“Elspeth told me that he mentioned Hooch after you guys asked him to coach. They were at Hogwarts at the same time.”

“So?” Ron asked.

“So nothing. Maybe they dated before he met Elspeth’s mum.”

“No way,” was Ron’s only comment.

Fred and George decided to stay at Hogwarts for dinner, and at the Gryffindor table it was like old times before Umbridge. After dinner the twins were about to leave for Hogsmeade – they were going to finish off the evening at The Three Broomsticks – when Ginny noticed Harry and Ron huddled with them just inside the entrance. She eyed them suspiciously, and waited for Harry to join her.

“What was that all about?” she asked.

“Oh, nothing. Want to take a walk through the castle tonight?”

“Yes, I’d like that, but you’re up to something with my brothers.”

“Why do you say that? I was just asking how business was. I like to keep up with them.”

“Humph.” Ginny was hardly convinced, and she decided to keep her eyes open; it was too easy to smuggle contraband past the sieve—like ineptitude of Filch.

Another two weeks passed and Ginny forgot the incident. It was pushed out of her mind by class work, Quidditch, and especially practicing her Patronus. Harry thought that their progress was fine, but she, Ron, and Hermione all wanted to be as far along as possible, as quickly as possible. It was a bit of a switch for Harry to be the one less anxious about Voldemort, but he really was taking Ginny’s exhortation to heart and putting Voldemort out of his mind. There was something about this that bothered Ginny, but she couldn’t put her finger on it. Her thoughts would stray to the upcoming Quidditch match, or to events farther away like the end of term, and she would feel small knots in her stomach. She wondered why Harry could be so carefree and herself so worried. She decided to talk to Hermione about it, and they sat down together one afternoon in Hermione’s room.

“I don’t see any problem with Harry’s attitude,” Hermione said. “It’s a good time for him to relax. It’s our last term, we have almost no homework anymore, he’s playing Quidditch almost every day, and he has you.” She grinned. “He also has a new magical power that nobody else has, or even knows about. The Prophet is writing positive stories about him, which has to make him feel good even if he doesn’t really care. At least it’s better than all that Rita Skeeter garbage. What are you worried about?”

“I don’t know,” Ginny sounded frustrated. “Maybe I’m thinking too much. But he’s been spending more time than usual up in his dorm lately. Whenever he used to go off by himself it was because he was running away from something or someone, usually me.”

Hermione raised her eyebrows. “I had the impression you two were spending all your free time together. Alone.”

“We are. A couple of times, though, he wanted to get back to the common room early, and then he went straight off to bed. We used to hang with you guys, or just sit by ourselves and talk and... whatever.”

Hermione smiled. “Well, Ron’s also been going to bed earlier. He’s been working so hard in your Quidditch practices, he’s been really tired. Maybe Harry is too.”

“Yeah, he has been working hard.” Ginny brightened. “I guess that explains it. I’m too paranoid.”

Hermione changed the subject. “Are you getting him anything for Valentine’s Day? Tomorrow’s the Feast.”

Ginny laughed. “He said he hated valentines ever since that embarrassment in his second year. He even thought once it might have been from me.” She closed her eyes and wiggled in her chair. “I’ll just be extra nice to him.”

Hermione giggled. “I’m getting Ron something, but you have to promise never ever to let him know that I told you.”

Ginny was very interested. “Of course. I’ll take it to the grave.”

“He told me he had a magical teddy bear when he was little that he slept with. If he kissed it, it would kiss him back. Then Fred and George hexed it so that it farted instead of kissing, and your parents took it away.” She laughed. “Traumatized for life! So I got him another one, but of course I’ll have to give it to him when we’re alone.”

“Blimey!” Ginny marveled. “I have no recollection of that. He must have been really little. But that’s great, Hermione.” She thought for a moment. “I wonder if Harry... No, he couldn’t have had anything like that from his aunt and uncle.” She frowned. “Pigs, all of them.”

The next morning, Valentine’s Day, early risers in the Gryffindor common room were startled by loud shrieks from the girls dormitory, followed by the sounds of running feet and shouts. The girls in the room scrambled for the stairs, and the boys gathered at the foot and peered anxiously up. There were more shrieks, then loud laughter.

“What’s going on?” Harry said from the back of the crowd of boys; he and Ron were the last to arrive.

“Dunno.” Dean Thomas looked back from the doorway. He craned his neck, trying to see up the stairs. “I can’t tell. Hey!” he yelled. “Is everything okay?”

There were more shrieks of laughter. “Come on up!” someone called. “Everyone’s decent.”

Dean looked at Neville standing next to him, then at Ron who was with Harry. “You’re the prefect. I think if you say it’s okay we can go up.”

Ron pushed his way to the door. “It’s okay with me. Hermione!” he called loudly. “Give us the okay and we’ll come up!”

There was more laughter, then Hermione came flying down the stairs. She jumped into Ron’s arms, knocking him backward into Neville, and wrapped her arms and legs around him and kissed him. “It’s wonderful!” she exclaimed. Some of the boys whistled.

“Happy Valentines Day, and good morning to you, too,” Ron said.

The boys trooped upstairs, Ron and Harry bringing up the rear. At one landing a group of girls stood before an open door. The boys stopped, and the girls stepped aside. It was Ginny’s room, and inside was a riot of red: the walls, windows, ceiling, floor, and furniture were covered and adorned with bouquets of roses, flowery hearts, streamers, and paper cut—outs. Some of the hearts periodically sent out eruptions of small, padded, silk hearts pierced with little arrows, and some of those disappeared in crackling pops of tiny crimson fireworks.

Ginny stood in the center of the carnival, wearing her dressing gown and holding a single red rose. She looked over the heads of the boys peering into her room and beckoned to Harry, who looked back at her from behind them. He grinned as he came through. He paused before he entered, and Dean gave him a little push into the room.

“You’ve been a bad little boy, haven’t you?” Ginny said, and handed him the rose.

“Me?” Harry pressed his fingers to his chest. “Why do you think it was me?”

“Oh, no reason at all.” Ginny picked a pierced heart out of his hair. She held it up and laughed. “This is why you were talking to my evil twin brothers, isn’t it?”

“Do you like it?”

“Oh, Harry, it’s wonderful!”

Everyone went up to admire Hermione’s room, which was identically bedecked, then the boys were shooed back to the common room where Harry and Ron were suitably ragged about their futures as interior decorators. As girls came down on their way to breakfast they giggled and whispered to each other as they passed Harry and Ron. Finally Hermione and Ginny appeared. They both wore crowns of braided roses and necklaces of pierced hearts. When they entered the Great Hall, word had preceded them, and a loud buzz went up. Everyone, including the staff, applauded as they sat down at the Gryffindor table.

Ginny and Hermione went to all their classes that day wearing their Valentine finery, and in the evening the four sat in front of the fireplace and laughed at how Harry and Ron had been spending so much time up in their room planning the whole enterprise and hiding it from the girls. The glow lasted for days, and Ron and Harry, when they talked to each other about it, were more than a little surprised at how happy it had made their girlfriends.

“Girls are different,” Ron observed; they were in their room getting ready for bed the night before a Saturday Quidditch practice.

“I’ll drink to that,” said Harry.

“No, I mean they react to things differently. I figured she would like the roses and hearts and all, but I never imagined how much she would like it.” He grinned. “She hasn’t stopped thanking me.”

“There’s a lesson in this,” Harry intoned. “The way to a woman’s heart is through a heart. Or a Firebolt.” He laughed. “Of all the things no one ever taught me, that’s the most important. By the way, what’s that in your bed?” He pointed to a small lump under Ron’s comforter.

“It’s nothing. Just something Hermione gave me.” He quickly climbed into bed and blew out his candle. “See you in the morning,” he said, and pulled the curtain shut.

Edward Pendragon and the twins were again at Quidditch practice the next day. The team had a brisk workout and Fred and George became very involved, so much so that at one point Ginny’s temper flared and she grabbed a Bludger and smacked George in the middle of his back with it.

“What did you do that for?” he yelled. “I’m only doing my job.”

Ginny glared and flew off. When Erskine caught up to her he gave her an appreciative grin.

But everything was working; both the Chasers and the Beaters were getting better at anticipating each other’s moves, and Ron was making as many saves as before but having to maneuver less. In the dressing room afterward Harry waited until the non—team members had left, then spoke to Ginny and Ron.

“We need to start coming up with a plan for the lion,” he said. “It’s nice and sunny out. Why don’t we go back and work on it?”

When they got outside they found Hermione still sitting in the announcer’s box where she had been when they left. She was preoccupied with the Daily Prophet, and hadn’t noticed that practice had ended. She looked up as Harry, circling above, called out to Ginny to fly in different directions and tilt her head at different angles.

“This is cheating, you know,” she said to Ron who was standing next to her watching Harry and Ginny.

“Why is it cheating?” he demanded. “Chudley did it last time. Everyone does it, and the referees don’t call it. Do you want us to win or lose?”

“I want you to win by being the better team. If you’re going to use magic, why don’t you just hex them? Harry’s magic is stronger than anything they’ve got. He could do it.”

“That would be too obvious,” Ron said uncomfortably. “This kind of stuff goes on all the time. You’ll see, the Cannons won’t even be surprised.”

“How to you know it goes on all the time?”

“I know.”

Hermione snorted; she turned the page of the Prophet and went back to reading. Ron looked up as the lion flashed; he cupped his hands and yelled to the flyers, “Too bright! It’s too obvious.”

They practiced for another fifteen minutes and then they trudged back to the castle. Hermione was very quiet; she and Ron were not talking, and Harry and Ginny exchanged glances. Hermione went up to her room, and the three sat together at the fireplace.

“What’s with Hermione?” Harry asked Ron.

Ron made a disgusted noise. “She says we’re cheating.”

“Well, we kinda are cheating,” Harry answered, “but so what? Everyone does it. It’s part of the game.”

“Yeah, but you know her.”

“She’ll be okay,” Ginny said. “Maybe something else is bothering her.”

Ron shrugged and picked up the Prophet that Hermione had dropped on a chair; he glanced at the headline. “Oh my God.” He looked at Harry, then at Ginny. “This is... Oh my God.” He handed the paper to Harry. In the middle of the front page was a photograph of Pansy Parkinson. The headline read, “Youngest Death Eater Killed in Raid!”

Harry handed it to Ginny and her face went ashen. The three of them stared at each other. “I’ll get Hermione,” Ginny whispered. In a few minutes they were back; Hermione’s eyes were red and her face was streaked with tears. Ron got up and held her as she cried softly on his shoulder.

“I feel sick,” Ginny said. “She was only seventeen.”

Harry read the story aloud.

“‘In a raid conducted last night on a house in a remote area of Yorkshire, a crack Wizard Hit Team from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, reinforced by a group of select Aurors, trapped at least twenty followers of You—Know—Who and fought a fierce battle with them. The raid was apparently a complete surprise to the Death Eaters, who still waged a bitter fight. During the fighting three Death Eaters attempted a breakout, and one was hit by a Killing Curse aimed at them from the house, according to the Ministry of Magic. This claim has not been independently verified by this reporter.’ I think it’s the same bloke who interviewed me,” Harry said. “His name is, uh, Stewart – ohmygod, he’s Stan Shunpike’s brother or something.” He looked at the others and shook his head. “This whole thing is bizarre.”

“Go on, finish it,” Ginny said; she was sitting in a chair and staring at the floor with her head in her hands.

Harry continued. “‘Two Killing Curses missed, according to the Ministry, but one struck one of the fleeing Death Eaters directly in the back, killing her instantly. The Ministry identified her as Pansy Parkinson, a seventh—year dropout from the House of Slytherin at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Miss Parkinson had been wanted by the Ministry for sabotage and attempted murder, charges connected with the well—known attack on the Hogwarts Express last spring. The Ministry of Magic is refusing to comment on rumors that the location of the so—called safe house was revealed by Dementors who recently defected from You—Know—Who.’”

Harry put the paper down. Hermione and Ron sat, and Hermione picked up the paper; her expression was blank as she turned to an inside page. “I read all the stories while you were practicing. The other two who tried to get out were Crabbe and Goyle. My own opinion is that they were trying to escape from the Death Eaters, not from the Hit Team. No one else was killed. They captured twelve Death Eaters by putting a binding spell on the house that kept most of them from Disapparating. Someone in the Ministry said that Voldemort lost a quarter of his people in the raid, but that may just be propaganda.” She looked up. “I can’t believe she’s dead. I hated her, but I never wished her dead.”

No one responded. She went on, and her voice began to falter. “There’s another s—story here about her parents. They were neighbors of the Malfoys, but there’s no evidence that they’re Death Eaters. Pansy and Draco had no siblings. They g—grew up together.” She began to weep again, and Ron put his hand on her shoulder.

The Great Hall was very quiet at dinnertime. Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn spent several minutes before the meal at the Slytherin table where all of the students sat with stunned expressions. Some cast angry glances in the direction of Harry and Ginny, but a fourth—year girl sitting next to Elspeth said something to them, and they turned their glares on her.

Ginny held onto Harry as they walked back to Gryffindor Tower. “I think I’d like to stay in the common room tonight,” she said. Harry nodded, and they spent the evening in front of the fireplace with Hermione and Ron, mostly in silence, staring into the flames.

In the following days and weeks there were more raids and more captures. Articles began appearing in the Prophet about the “beginning of the end” of the war, and Stewart Shunpike had a series of stories about the history of the war; he pin—pointed what he called “The Battle of the Burrow” on Christmas Day as the turning point. Harry pointedly ignored all of it, and told Hermione once again that he did not want to know anything about the outside world, so she should stop reading the Prophet aloud to everyone at breakfast.

Harry also started spending more time with Professor Flitwick learning about Inductive Magic, and he talked to Ron about the Professor one warm afternoon in late March as they practiced their Patronuses near the lake.

“He’s really something. Here’s this tiny wizard that a lot of students don’t take seriously. His voice is ridiculous. But he’s as smart as anyone I ever met, and I’m learning more from him than I ever learned from Snape or McGonagall. He knows everything about everything, and he makes you feel good when you’re learning it.”

“So what are you learning?” Ron asked.

Harry didn’t answer immediately; he watched Ginny’s Patronus stalk a thrush that was hopping along the ground pecking at insects. Hermione trailed the Patronus and stamped out the flames it left in its trail. The thrush finally noticed the phoenix and flew off. When the bird flew away, the phoenix vanished.

Harry laughed. “I think your phoenix is confused,” he called to Ginny, “unless Voldemort’s now an animagus and that was him.” Ginny smiled, then turned away.

Harry stared at Ginny for a moment, then he answered Ron. “I put a voice charm in a little doll, and then I made it talk. But now he’s teaching me how to get the voice charm to do other things. He even thinks I might eventually be able to conjure my Patronus from it.”

“Wow! That would be useful, at least until the doll went up in flames. How does he teach it, though? Can he do it himself?”

“Not really, but he knows so much and he’s so good at explaining things, that it almost seems like he does.”

Since they had all become completely proficient with their fiery Patronuses, they didn’t practice long. They sat under a beech tree near the lake, and basked in the early spring sunshine that fell in mottled patterns through the bare branches, and watched white clouds sail across the sky. Ron and Hermione decided to return to the castle, but Harry held Ginny back. They leaned against the tree trunk, and Ginny rested her head on his shoulder. “You’ve been quiet lately,” Harry said. “Is something bothering you?”

Ginny had in fact begun to feel restive again about a lot of things – especially since the news about Pansy – but she had kept it from Harry so far. The end of the school year would mean many things aside from a possible confrontation with Voldemort. What would they all do this summer? And would she be alone at Hogwarts next year? She hoped that Harry would come back to the Burrow for the summer, and that all of them would stay there until everything about Voldemort was resolved, one way or the other. The dilemma of what to do about her seventh year was so dependent on so many other confusing things, that it was simpler just to put it out of her mind. But it wouldn’t stay out, and she decided she had to talk.

“What’s going to happen after graduation?” she said. “And what about next year? I know they’re both a long way off, and I know we can’t decide now, but I can’t help thinking about it.”

“What do you mean, next year? You’ll be here, won’t you?”

“Where will you be?”

“Oh.” He was silent for a long time. “I see what you mean. I hadn’t thought about it at all.” He closed his eyes for a moment, then he looked at her with a broad grin. “I have an idea. Let’s make big plans, and the hell with what might happen. If you come back to Hogwarts next year, then I’ll live in Hogsmeade.”

“What? How can you do that? I mean...” Ginny’s eyes grew wide; she looked toward the gates and the lane leading to the village. “Would you really? Where would you live? That would be unbelievable!”

Harry got a mischievous look. “Maybe I could re—open Zonko’s for Fred and George.”

“Somehow, I can’t see you as a store—keeper.”

“What can you see me as? A shop in Hogsmeade wouldn’t be a bad place for two people to live.”

“Harry, don’t start talking like that.” She looked down and tears filled her eyes. “There’s too much that could happen. I couldn’t... I couldn’t stand it if we had decided something like that and then one of us... Look what happened to Pansy.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry said. “I thought it would make you happy, something to look forward to. It would make me happy.”

“You have been pretty happy lately. Everything’s going your way – your magic, the team, graduating soon...”

“I like the feeling.”

Ginny abruptly stood, and Harry scrambled up to join her. “What’s wrong?” he asked.

“Nothing’s really wrong. I don’t know why this conversation upsets me. It would be wonderful if you lived in Hogsmeade next year, really. Maybe the problem is that if I try to think past the next hour, I’m afraid that it won’t ever happen. I’m sorry. I’m making us both miserable.”

“That used to be my job,” Harry said, and he laughed. “Let’s go back. It’s getting late.”

Harry’s offer to live in Hogsmeade, where they would certainly have lots of time alone and lots of privacy, buoyed Ginny’s feelings. But the nagging voice troubling her mind would not go away. She knew that it had to be the uncertainty of how and when Harry would have to face Voldemort and what the outcome would be. But she also resolved not to let it ruin either the prospect of a win over Chudley, or the intriguing idea of a place in Hogsmeade for her and Harry.

The final weeks before the match sped by in a blur. They began holding daily practices; her brothers decided to close their shop for a week before the game and come up to Hogwarts; and Edward Pendragon also arrived around the same time as the Weasley twins. Harry had stopped going to classes, and spent hours each day with Professor Flitwick or alone in his office with the lion clip. He mentioned one strange thing to the others: he never saw Rowena Ravenclaw in her portrait again. He asked the Professor about it once, but Flitwick dismissed it as coincidence and a long vacation in Switzerland.

The day before the match, the Chudley Cannons again joined the school for dinner, and again they sat with the Hogwarts team at the Slytherin table. This time both Harry and Ginny were asked – politely – about events that had been reported in the Daily Prophet. Ron tried to be polite, too, but he clearly had feelings left over from the first match, and when they all left the table, “Broomstick” Bailey, the Cannons Keeper, smiled sardonically at him and wished him luck.

In the dressing room before the match, Ginny felt a quieter and stronger confidence than she had before the first one. They had learned some skills that would at least make things more difficult for Chudley. As she clipped the golden lion into her hair, her eyes met Harry’s, and they smiled at each other across the dressing room. She went over to him. He was sitting on a bench and she bent down and whispered in his ear, “You’re going to get it, I have a feeling. And I love you.” She kissed him quickly.

Madame Hooch did not give a pep talk this time. Instead, she and Edward told the Chasers to use the breakaway pass as soon into the match as possible. They wished them luck, and then Harry led the team onto the pitch.

The stadium was completely packed under a bright sky with a few puffy, white clouds. Once again hundreds of people from outside the school had come for the match, and a huge roar went up as the Hogwarts team walked out. The players mounted their brooms – the Chudley players all noticed the two new Firebolts – the referee blew her whistle, and the match began.

The instant the Quaffle left the box, Ginny shot toward it; Carlotta, perfectly positioned, smashed into the Chudley Chaser who had reacted a split second too late, and Ginny had it. She circled back to the Hogwarts goal, drawing the whole Chudley team after her; it was clear that the Cannons were anticipating another easy win.

Ginny passed to Elspeth who retreated farther, then Ginny shot past the Cannon attackers and was behind their defense. She took the return pass before any of them realized what had happened, and she sped toward the Chudley goal. A last—second feint put the Keeper completely out of position and she scored easily.

No one at Hogwarts had ever heard such a deafening roar in the Quidditch stadium, as Ginny made a triumphant loop low over the stands. Hogwarts students were beside themselves; later, some of them even claimed to have seen Argus Filch smile. The Chudley Cannons looked at each other in surprise, and they quickly went over to the attack. But now they found it harder to penetrate the Hogwarts defense, and Ron was able to save all the shots they took in the first fifteen minutes. They began to press, and Ginny spotted another opening. Her second goal provoked a nasty comment from “Broomstick” Bailey about her ancestry.

“Stick it!” she screamed at him as she flew past the goal, “‘cause there’s more coming!”

The match turned ugly. Bludgers began to find their marks, and Hogwarts gave as good as it got. Chudley finally broke through and scored when one of their Chasers bumped Ron and kept him from making the save. Ron flew directly at the referee, screaming for a foul, but she just pointed at the goal and told him to get back. Carlotta and Thurmond had to pull him away.

The match went back and forth for almost another hour. Chudley finally began to pull ahead. The score was seventy to fifty when a change in the crowd noise made Ginny glance up. The Golden Snitch was directly above her, and both Harry and Forrester Salinger were diving toward it from high above. They were close together, knocking against each other’s brooms.

Ginny knew exactly what to do. She began moving away from the Snitch, keeping her head down. She sensed more than saw the flash of light, and then looked up. The trick had worked. Salinger swerved only a few yards off course, but it was enough. He arrived at the Snitch a split second after Harry, but it was already in Harry’s grasp.

A giant roar erupted from the crowd, and Ginny thought her ears would explode. Salinger glared at Harry for a moment, but when the Chudley Seeker looked at Ginny, he winked, then flew to her. He tapped her broomstick with his. “See you at the next match,” he shouted over the noise.

He started to fly away, but then Ginny noticed that most of the other players were moving toward them, following behind the referee, a witch with a no—nonsense look. Just as she began to say something to Ginny, Salinger flew between them.

“Nothing happened!” he shouted. “No foul!”

The referee scowled and hesitated, and Ginny took the opportunity to dive to the ground, where dozens of students were celebrating. Soon the whole team was in the center of a dancing, cheering mob. When Ginny looked up again, the Cannons and the referee were gone.

The dressing room was jubilant. They all shouted, screamed, and hugged each other. Ginny went to Harry, and they didn’t come up for air until Ron laughingly pulled them apart. Fred and George came in, and told them to come outside where the entire student body was waiting. Cheers rang out when the team emerged.

Fred pulled Ron, Harry and Ginny aside. “We’re going into Hogsmeade for a little celebration. The village will be hopping. Mum and Dad are here, and so are Bill and Fleur.”

Ginny looked for Elspeth; she wanted to ask her to join them. Elspeth was standing off to one side with the Slytherin students, and Ginny went over and nudged her. “We’re going into Hogsmeade. Get your father and join us.”

Elspeth hesitated. “I think I’ll be going in with, uh...” She indicated the Slytherins with a nod.

Ginny tried to hide her surprise, and smiled briefly at them, but they all returned either blank or hostile looks. She turned and hurried into the dressing room with Harry and Ron, and when they came out, the Weasley clan was waiting along with Hermione.

“Mad—Eye and Remus will be joining us at The Three Broomsticks,” Fred said on their way into the village; the lane was crowded with students, parents, and others, and they all called out congratulations to the Quidditch players. “Tonks and Kingsley are here, too, but they’re on duty.”

The inn was crowded and noisy, and a cheer went up when Harry, Ron, and Ginny entered. Hands clapped their backs, and they were all offered drinks from each table as they passed. Madam Rosmerta came from behind the bar and cleared a table for them toward the back. “A little privacy for the heroes of the day,” she proclaimed. “And a round of drinks.”

“Rosmerta, I love you.” George tried to kiss her but she laughed and pulled away. The drinks came, and everyone toasted the Hogwarts Quidditch team.

Ginny treasured the moment. She had scored three goals; her family was celebrating with her; and Harry was sitting next to her with his arm around her. She felt no anxieties about anything; there were no worrisome voices in her head. She turned to look at Harry; he was talking across the table to Remus about fiery Patronuses, and Ginny felt a wave of pride and certainty. He was Voldemort’s equal in magic, and on top of that he had the love that so many felt for him, a strength beyond anything the Dark Lord could comprehend.

An hour and several drinks later, a thought occurred to Ginny. “Mum,” she said loudly above the noise, “come take a walk with me down to Dervish and Banges. I want to ask them about that potion they sold us for my blisters last year.” She stood up.

Molly glanced at Arthur. He frowned, but Ron spoke up. “I’ll go with them. I’d like to give ‘em a piece of my mind, too.”

Harry looked up. “I’ll come, too.”

“This is ridiculous,” Ginny said. “There’s more Aurors in the village than there are drunks like us. We’ll be fine. Come on, Mum. Harry, you’re having fun. Stay here.” She and Molly started to leave.

Ron went after them. “I’m not drunk yet,” he muttered to Hermione, who smiled hazily and waved vaguely. They disappeared out the door and up the High Street.

Harry resumed his conversation with Lupin about Patronus lessons that the Ministry had announced for the general Wizarding public. After a few minutes Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks entered. They had gone off duty and were anxious to catch up to the rest of them. Kingsley went to the bar, and was returning with a tray of drinks when a loud bang sounded from outside.

The inn went silent. They heard distant shouts, then screams and more bangs. There was pandemonium and a rush to the door.

The Weasley party was stuck in the back of the room, behind the jam at the front. “Back door!” Kingsley cried, and they all followed him to the rear of the room and out into the field behind the inn. Down the road and off to the side, they could see flames and hear more screams. Then a golden—white phoenix rose briefly into the air above the rooftops and descended out of sight.

Harry led the sprint back to the High Street, shoving his way through the throngs that were fleeing away from the flames. But when they were only a few yards from the end of the street, where Dervish and Banges stood off to one side, the flames suddenly stopped, although black smoke continued to billow into the air. And there was silence.

They ran into the meadow behind the store, and a horrible scene opened before them. Smoking bodies were strewn about, at least a dozen. Molly Weasley was on her knees, wailing; and in the middle of it all were Ginny’s phoenix and Ron’s dog with flames flickering over their forms, looking around as though they were lost.

Arthur rushed to Molly. “What happened? Are you hurt?” he cried. “Where are Ron and Ginny?” He looked around frantically. Molly grabbed his robes, and shook her head, sobbing.

“They took them! They came out of there and took them!” She pointed to a building a few yards away.

“That’s the back of The Hog’s Head,” Fred said. “Who were they?”

Molly shook her head again. “Death Eaters. So many of them...” She sobbed uncontrollably in Arthur’s arms.

“They’re all dead,” Kingsley announced; he and Tonks had gone around the meadow examining the bodies. “Burned to a crisp. There are fifteen of them. Ron and Ginny are missing.”

Then they saw Harry. He was standing near the Patronuses, reaching his right hand toward them. But they would not approach; together they backed away, and then they vanished. Harry turned, and as he walked toward the people standing around Molly, they all drew back from the fury and rage and pain on his face and in his eyes. He walked past them. Hermione held out her hand, but he ignored her and strode out onto the High Street and down toward Hogwarts. Hermione, her face white as a sheet, looked at the others, then followed.

More Aurors entered the meadow, including several who Apparated. Arthur helped Molly stand; she started to collapse and clung to him, trembling. Shacklebolt gestured to Harry’s back. “Go,” he said to Arthur. “All of you, get back to the castle. Tonks and I have work to do here. We’ll come as soon as we can.” He looked at Mad—Eye and then at Remus, and nodded toward Harry. Moody limped quickly away, followed by Lupin. The rest, who were gathered around Molly Weasley, had to help her walk, and they went more slowly.
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