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Losing Each Other | ||||||
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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: 106083; Chapter Total: 6991 Author's Notes: Some of the underlying ideas in this and the previous chapter (Firebolt) come from other fans' postings on Chamber of Secrets (www.cosforums.com). |
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Ginny and Hermione hurried after Harry and Ron, but they were still a few yards from the door as the boys entered the Burrow. From the yard they heard Mrs. Weasley’s shriek of dismay, accompanied by the loud clatter of pots hitting the floor. Inside the kitchen they found Harry already seated at the table with Molly hovering over him. “What on earth happened?” she cried as she wiped Harry’s face with the hem of her apron. “Was there an attack? Was anyone else hurt?” She spun around to look at the girls. “We’re all okay, Mum,” Ron assured her. “Harry, um, had a problem with his broom.” He looked at Harry who was swaying slightly in his chair and was staring blankly at the tabletop. “He didn’t break anything, did he?” “I don’t know, I don’t know,” Molly said anxiously, and ran her hands over Harry’s face, then his arms. “Glasses broke,” Harry mumbled; he was barely coherent. “Some teeth loose. Lost one when I hit.” He looked at the floor. “Don’t see it. Can you fix them?” He opened his mouth and wiggled a front tooth with his tongue. As the others leaned forward to see, he glanced at Ginny, who quickly straightened up and averted her eyes. Mrs. Weasley scurried over to a cabinet and started taking out bottles of variously colored potions. “Ginny,” she said, “help me with these.” Ginny brought an armful of bottles back to the table, then sat down across from Harry. Molly took her wand out. “Loose teeth are no problem. Wait a minute,” she muttered to herself, “I want to get this right. One is for making teeth fall out, but there’s another one for tightening them up.” She thought for a moment, then said, “Yes, this is the one. Open up.” She touched the loose tooth with her wand. “Is that better, dear?” she asked. “Yeth,” he said; her wand was still in his mouth.”Thankth. There’th another one here,” he pointed to a second tooth. Ginny watched as her mother attended to Harry. Ron and Hermione stood next to him, pouring potions into small bowls at Molly’s direction, and holding them as she dabbed at Harry’s wounds. Ginny stood up. “I’ll be in the sitting room if you need me, Mum,” she said; Molly was cleaning a scratch on Harry’s forehead that almost reached his scar. Harry looked at Ginny, and as their eyes met again she froze. For a long moment they held each other’s gaze, then Ginny again broke away, overcome by what she saw there. She bolted out of the kitchen and into the sitting room and collapsed into a chair in front of the fireplace. She shut her eyes and saw Harry’s; they were full of despair and fear. She felt fear herself, and also pity and longing. She wanted to touch him physically, to hold his despair and fear in her arms. Her own fear was for him, for his very existence; she knew that in his current state he would never survive a confrontation with any Dark wizard. And she pitied his inability to understand why it was happening to him. But the question now was not how to help him, but how to keep him alive. She heard footsteps and quickly wiped the tears from her face. Hermione came into the room and stood next to the chair. “Your Mum wants him to rest,” she said. “Ron went upstairs with him.” They both stared into the cold fireplace; it seemed as though the chill mist from outside had penetrated the warm comfort of the Burrow. Ginny shuddered. “Hermione,” she whispered, afraid to speak her fear. “He’s in danger. He has to go back to Hogwarts. He needs to be someplace where he can figure things out, try to get his powers back. He has to go back to Hogwarts,” she repeated. Hermione nodded. “I know, that’s exactly what I was thinking. It’s probably the safest place in Britain, even without Dumbledore. I mean, Professor McGonagall is no slouch. And Madame Pomfrey can take care of him.” She looked uncertainly at Ginny. “But when school starts, it’s going to be as hard on you as it is on Harry.” “Yes,” Ginny said miserably, and put her hand over her eyes, “it will.” She looked up and smiled wanly at Hermione. “You and Ron will have to be the ones looking out for him.” “As much as we can,” Hermione answered. Ginny had been slumped in the chair; she sat up and took Hermione’s arm. “Hermione, you promised. You promised me you would look after him.” Hermione looked at her.”I did promise,” she said quietly. “Of course I will do it. And so will Ron.” By late afternoon all the arrangements were made. Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks would come to the Burrow and Portkey with Harry, Ron, and Hermione into Hogwarts. Ginny would take he trio’s trunks and other belongings with her on the Hogwarts Express. The twins would buy their textbooks and supplies in Diagon Alley for Ginny to bring. By the time dusk fell, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were gone. The next morning the Burrow was desolate and empty. Ginny tried watching the sunrise from her window, but she had awoken with a knot in her stomach. When she was sitting still it was all she could think of, so she went downstairs. She spent the slow hours of the day trying to get her things ready for school, but she could not concentrate. She found herself alone in her room again. She paced between the bed and the window, peering out at the tendrils of mist that were getting ever thicker. The following morning her stomach felt better, but she awoke hours before dawn and could not fall back to sleep. She sat at the window for several hours, watching the sky lighten in the east, then brighten as the sun slowly rose and her shadow climbed down the wall. The sun shone golden under the cloud cover through the mist, and she thought that the day might have some cheer to it. But then the sun disappeared behind the overcast, and gloom settled over the countryside and darkness and doubt settled in Ginny’s heart. She was no longer looking forward to school. At the beginning of the summer holiday she felt that she still had a connection with Harry despite what he had said after the funeral. Her father’s explanation of the mermaid’s and the centaurs’ behavior had strengthened her certainty. Harry’s rescue of her from the train, and his obvious pain at walking away again, confirmed his feelings for her, at least in her own mind. But had she deceived herself? Had everything changed? Now Harry could not “save the wizarding world” because he might not be able to save himself. Ginny did not know how she could face him if he lost that dream – if dream it was – or how she could be near him every day knowing he was in such pain but not able to help him. The look in his eyes had been worse than a scream, but Harry Potter was the last person in the world who would ever ask for help. Early in the afternoon of he day before the trip to Kings Cross Station Ginny walked into the kitchen. Mrs. Weasley was organizing textbooks into four piles. “Are you ready for lunch, dear,” Molly asked, distributing copies of Transfiguration In the Real World to Ron’s, Harry’s, and Hermione’s stacks. “I’m not hungry, Mum,” Ginny yawned. She slumped into a chair and half—heartedly glanced at the book titles in her stack. She pushed them away, looking glum. Molly stopped organizing and sat down next to her. “Do you want to talk?” she said. Ginny sighed and looked at the Weasley family clock sitting amidst a heap of vegetables next to the sink; all of the hands still pointed to Mortal Peril. “We should get a hand for Harry,” she said. “He’s like one of the family now. In mortal peril.” She sighed again, but this time to hide the catch in her voice. “Ginny.” Her mother took her hand in both of hers. “What happened to him? I never asked because he was so upset that day, and you have been so wretched ever since. Why did he fall?” Ginny hesitated; she was not sure if it was right to tell anyone about Harry’s problem with his magic. But then she remembered the conversation between Remus and Tonks in the hospital wing the night Dumbledore died. Her mother and father had scolded Remus for pushing Tonks away. “He’s losing his powers, Mum,” she said quietly; even in the safety of the Burrow she feared unfriendly ears. “He couldn’t control the broomstick. And Hermione told me that over the summer he had trouble getting spells to work.” She looked anxiously at her mother. To her surprise, Molly was not alarmed or even upset. “That was predictable,” Molly said matter-of-factly. “Arthur and I talked about it after the accident. I was certain that’s what happened.” “How can you be so unconcerned?” Ginny was upset even if her mother wasn’t. “What if he meets a Death Eater? He’ll die!” “He won’t if he’s at Hogwarts,” Molly replied. “So it’s up to you and Ron and Hermione to make sure he stays there. And remember what happened to Nymphadora only a day or two after she and Remus made up. Do you remember what she looked like at Professor Dumbledore’s funeral?” Ginny nodded. “She was her flaming old self again.” “That’s what will happened to Harry when he stops fighting his feelings,” Molly declared. “He’ll be his flaming old self again. The only question is, how to make him come to his senses.” “That’s a big question,” Ginny humphed. Molly sat pensively for a moment. “But he is aware of his feelings, very much so,” she said with certainty. “He knows what his feelings are. It will be easier to get him to stop fighting them than it would be to acknowledge them in the first place. He has a wrong—headed idea of how to treat you, but if he did not love you his powers would not be disappearing.” Ginny took a long time to respond while she considered her mother’s words. “It makes sense,” she said finally, “but I’m afraid something bad will happen before anyone can get through to him.” “That’s why his friends have to look out for him,” her mother said. Ginny leaned forward and pushed the piles of textbooks away. “You know what, Mum? I’m hungry.” Molly laughed and got up. In a few minutes the potatoes, carrots, turnips, onions, and tomatoes were washed, peeled, sliced, and bubbling in a crock-pot. She and Ginny ate vegetable soup together, talking about nothing in particular. When Ginny was finished, she went upstairs and began packing. Her heart was not light, but at least she now knew what she had to do, even if the way to do it, like the countryside hidden in mist, was not clear. The next morning the taxi arrived to take Ginny and her parents to King's Cross Station. Mrs. Weasley was nervous enough about the trip, and the difficulty she had met trying to find a cab had only made it worse. The problem, of course, was the Weasley family’s – or more specifically, the Weasley twins’ – reputation with the local cab company, a result of the incident of three years ago involving exploding firecrackers. Memories apparently lingered in the English countryside. Molly had eventually found a taxi in a nearby town, and her concerns about security were eased at the last minute when Tonks Apparated in front of the cab – to the amazement of the driver – and announced that she would accompany them. She rode in the front seat, and spent the entire trip flirting with the driver, a young Muggle with a variety of interests, stage magic being one of them. They had plenty to talk about, so he did not mind the pile of strange luggage which included two owls and a cage of pink Pygmy Puffs. And he either did not notice or did not care about Tonks’s unusual and changing appearance. The cab arrived safely at the station. The driver helped them unload and then drove happily away. Platform Nine and Three Quarters was much quieter than it usually was on the morning of September first. There were fewer students and their families, and more Aurors. Arthur and Molly bid Ginny goodbye, and the train departed. Ginny shared a compartment with Luna and Neville, swapping stories about their summer holidays. Ginny left out Harry’s misadventures, but proudly showed off her new dragon—hide boots. After an hour or so of conversation they grew silent. Luna began to read the latest Quibbler, Neville became preoccupied with a new magical plant he had brought with him, and Ginny grew lost in thoughts and anxieties about what she would find at Hogwarts. The Hogwarts Express sped on into the foggy night and arrived at Hogsmeade Station without incident. As Ginny got off, she saw many Aurors huddling near the engine; they all had broomsticks and they all wore heavy cloaks. She realized that they had been escorting the train. She moved with Luna and Neville to the row of horseless carriages waiting in the lane. To her shock, instead of empty traces Ginny saw thestrals standing in their harnesses, a macabre and spectral sight. For a moment she did not understand, but then remembered the Death Eater who had died in the battle last spring, hit by a ricocheting Killing Curse. She climbed into the carriage feeling even more unsettled and nervous about what lay ahead. As they drew near the castle, Ginny could not see anything unusual about it; it was as lit up as ever, candles and lamps glowing in most of the windows. The Gryffindor Tower was actually blazing with lights. But as the students entered the Great Hall and filed to their House tables, it became quickly obvious that much would be different this year. Only the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables were more than half—full. The Ravenclaw table had about a third of its seats full, and only a dozen students sat down at the Slytherin table. As Ginny entered the Hall she looked for her friends, and she spotted Ron and Hermione, but not Harry, at the Gryffindor table. She hurried over and hugged Hermione. To her happy surprise, Ron also hugged her and held her for a moment. “Is everything OK at home?” he asked. Ginny nodded and sat down next to him. She looked at both of them, afraid to ask. “He’s much better,” Hermione said, leaning across Ron and taking Ginny’s hand. “But he didn’t come to the Feast. He said he wanted to talk to you first.” She looked at Ginny with a half—smile. “Well, that’s interesting,” said Ginny. She lowered her voice. “But his magic? What about that?” But before Hermione could answer, Ron, who had been facing Ginny and the entrance, gave a start. “Oh my God!” he exclaimed, staring at what was coming through the doors. The entire Great Hall fell into shocked silence. Professor Flitwick was leading the new first—years up the aisle; there were only eight of them. They huddled together in a frightened knot, keeping as close to the Professor as they could. Since he was at least a full head shorter than all of them, it was a strange as well as a disturbing sight. “So few,” Hermione murmured. The Sorting ceremony did not take long. Except for the House assignments, the Sorting Hat had nothing to say, which somehow made Ginny depressed. Three of the new students were Sorted to Hufflepuff, two each to Gryffindor and Ravenclaw, and one to Slytherin. Unfortunately, she was also the last one to be Sorted and the girl had to walk in tears to the Slytherin table with all eyes on her. She was greeted with stony stares from her new Housemates. “That’s terrible,” Hermione said, watching the small girl sitting with her head bowed and her whole body shaking. “No one deserves that.” Ron looked in silence, and Ginny observed that, where in the past he would have said something rude, now he just looked and said nothing. The Feast passed in relative quiet. Conversations were muted; everyone seemed uncertain about what would happen next. When Professor McGonagall finally stood, there was no need to draw anyone’s attention; the entire Hall seemed anxious to hear her say something. A hush fell. The Headmistress looked around the room; when her eyes passed briefly over Ginny, Ginny saw determination, and she felt heartened. She sat up straight and waited expectantly. “Welcome to another year at Hogwarts,” the Headmistress said loudly and firmly. “We all know that this year will be difficult. No one, least of all I, will ever replace the one who stood in this spot a year ago. But if no one can replace him, every one of us can do the very things that he loved the most, that made this school what it is – teaching and learning. As long as those two activities are happening at Hogwarts, then Albus Dumbledore will not have been defeated.” She paused, and looked around the Hall again. “The responsibility for teaching and learning lies on every person in this room,” she continued, “and I hold each one of you to account for doing whatever your part is, whether it is teaching, learning, or sweeping the floors. I charge each witch and each wizard in this Great Hall to accept this challenge. When you return to your Houses tonight, and tomorrow when you begin classes, and next week when you are studying in your common rooms or in the library, you must remember and think about my challenge. I am not asking you to enjoy your year here. I am asking you to offer up your energies, your minds, your talents, and your spirits as a sacrifice to your own futures and to the future of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.” She stopped, and there was dead silence; no one seemed to be breathing. Ginny’s eyes were riveted on McGonagall. Then something moved next to her. Ron was pushing back his bench and standing up. He began to clap slowly and loudly. Hermione also rose and began clapping. As Ginny joined them, so did the rest of the Gryffindor table and then the other Houses. Even the Slytherins were up and applauding, if not quite as enthusiastically. The applause went on; when it died Professor McGonagall continued. “I take that as an acceptance of my challenge,” she said as everyone sat down, “and as a salute to yourselves. And I thank you for both.” She smiled and seemed to relax. “I have only one announcement at this time,” she went on. “It should be obvious, given the small number of students that are present compared to previous years, that it will be impossible to hold our usual competition for the Quidditch Cup.” Disappointed murmurs passed through the Hall. Ginny looked at Ron; she was sure that the same crestfallen look was on her own face. “However,” McGonagall spoke over the chattering, and the room went quiet, “in its place we have arranged a different kind of Quidditch competition.” There was a tantalizing pause; she obviously enjoyed the sense of anticipation that now held her audience. “In its place,” she continued, “we will be holding tryouts for an all-Hogwarts Quidditch team. This team will compete in a three-match tournament over the course of the school year with a professional Quidditch club that I am sure some of you are familiar with, the Chudley Cannons.” Ginny was speechless. She looked at Ron; his mouth was hanging open, his eyes looked like they would pop out of his head. Hermione was grinning at him. The Hall was silent; everyone was as astonished as Ginny. Then a wave of excited conversation swept through each House table. People were looking around, pointing and calling to each other. Many looked at the Gryffindor table, and Ginny was certain that they were searching for Harry, to see what his reaction was. Professor McGonagall held her hand up, and once again the Hall fell silent. “That is all I have to say,” she said. “Go to your Houses and rest well. And remember the challenge!” |
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