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Another World, Another Time | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe, Post-HBP, Post-Hogwarts Characters:Harry/Ginny, Nymphadora Tonks, Oliver Wood Genres: Angst, Drama, Fluff, General, Romance, Tragedy Warnings: Death, Extreme Language, Sexual Situations Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 313 Summary: Life goes on after Voldemort's defeat, even though Harry disappears without a trace. How does Ginny deal with his return four years later, when both of them have become very different people? Hitcount: Story Total: 117410; Chapter Total: 10397 |
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Ginny pulled on her Quidditch robes slowly, trying to get herself into the right mental state for the big game. She was nervous, incredibly so. This was Chudley’s last chance for playoffs. She had been at practice every single day that week for ten hours straight - Chudley hadn’t been this close to playoffs in fifty years, and Coach Richards was a man possessed, his team flying drill after drill until they were dodging stray Bludgers in their sleep. The entire Weasley family was present up in the Minister’s box for the momentous event. Even Charlie had made the trip. Hermione came to the game with Ron, which was rare given that she hated Quidditch, and joined Ginny’s mother in lecturing about how dangerous it was, a fact that Ginny, of all people, knew very well. Sean was there too, disguised to avoid reporters, who had not yet discovered his return. In the five days he had been back, he hadn’t remembered anything else about Harry’s life, despite every effort by numerous experts. The Ministry had commissioned specialists from the United States, France, and Switzerland to examine Sean, observing him night and day, to little avail. All the experts could agree on was one thing - finding Harry, the real Harry, again was indeed a possibility; the few memories Sean did have were proof that Harry’s life was still there inside his head, Harry’s personality hadn’t been fractured or destroyed. They just needed the key to those memories. They had tried potions, charms, spells - her Dad had said something about Sean having to wear dragonhide earmuffs at night, soaked in extract of Hellebore - a technique the Romanian doctor swore would restore memory slowly over two weeks. Ginny wasn’t holding out much hope on that method, though. She was, however, hoping that seeing this Quidditch game would help; if there was one thing close to Harry Potter’s heart, it was Quidditch. He had once told Ginny that one of his dearest memories was the first time he flew, the first time he reached out during that fateful game in his first year, and saw the Golden Snitch fluttering in the palm of his hand. If he could unlock just that one happy memory by watching this game, other memories would surely follow. Maybe there would be memories of her. Maybe after the game, Ginny could be sitting beside Harry at dinner instead of Sean. She was suffused with every hope that would be the case. Ginny blew a stray tendril of hair out of her face and tried to focus, mounting her broom and watching her team fly out onto the field to deafening applause. “AND FINALLY, LEADING THE CANNONS IN SCORING THIS SEASON, THAT GORGEOUS LITTLE SPITFIRE WE ALL KNOW AND LOVE, NUMBER THREE - GINEVRA WEASLEY!” “Thanks, Lee,” Ginny muttered as she zoomed once around the pitch, waving to the crowd. She stopped briefly in front of the Minister’s box, where her family was in the front row. Ollie sat on his grandpa’s shoulders, waving and laughing hysterically; he had no idea what was happening, but he absolutely loved the applause and the noise of the crowd. Ron was painted entirely orange, except for white shorts and a giant white C emblazoned across his bare chest. Hermione was standing beside him, looking humiliated by her husband’s antics - Ginny knew she probably had a book in her bag which she would read through most of the game. Sean was on the other side of Ron, looking through the omnioculars in amazement and confusion, twisting dials curiously. Ginny laughed. The twins were perched beside him in bright orange jumpers, throwing peanuts at the side of Ron’s head. Ginny was somewhat shocked that no one from the Prophet had yet discovered the return of Harry Potter. She guessed it was Sean’s lack of glasses, and the series of hats he wore everywhere to hide his scar, on the advice of Mad-Eye Moody. Today he wore a Cannons ballcap he’d borrowed from Ron - thus he blended perfectly into the crowd. Even in the Minister’s box, no one batted an eye in his direction. The Weasley’s were a big family, and there were always various odd friends and relatives accompanying them to events. No one would notice, although Ginny thought it laughably obvious. She pulled her focus back to the task ahead. The opposing Chasers of the Ballycastle Bats were nothing to worry about. Ginny was the smallest and quickest Chaser on the pitch, and she was confident she could outmanoeuvre most of their tackles and attempted steals. She was a bit more worried about Ballycastle’s defense - the Beaters were two brothers, called the Wilders. They were huge, burly and notoriously sexist;: Ginny had read an interview where they had been quoted as saying that witches belong in the kitchen and wreck the game by mucking about on the Quidditch pitch. Ginny, along with every female Quidditch player she knew, had been infuriated for weeks afterwards. What did they think it was, the Dark Ages? The Wilder brothers’ last name was also appropriate, given their astounding penalty stats. They had taken out the Cannon’s Seeker during a game early last season, breaking his leg in two places. They glared menacingly at Ginny, the sole female Cannon on the field at that moment. Ginny smiled back, a big fake smile... during the last game, she had zoomed around them like a hummingbird, their Bludgers coming nowhere near hitting her despite their best efforts. She’d show them again.- And a second later, the Quaffle was released and Ginny was a blur of orange as she zoomed forward to grab it from the reaching fingertips of a Bats Chaser. She had tucked it tightly to her chest and was whizzing towards the goals in less than a heartbeat. Her teammates zoomed beside her in perfect triangle passing formation. Ginny knew that, with her breakaway, she didn’t really have to pass - the Bats hadn’t caught up to them yet, but she fired an almost lazy backwards pass to her teammate Fletcher, resulting in the first goal of the game. This was way too easy, Ginny thought with a grin, as Ballycastle took possession. Lee Jordan’s voice rose above the din of the crowd. “Ballycastle chaser Doug Owens passes... Oh - it’s just a tad too slow - Harper steals for the Cannons! He passes to Fletcher, who passes it back, now over to Weasley, back to Harris..... ooh, a close miss from a Bludger there, but he’s got it together, folks, a quick lob back to Weasley and... YES! The shot is good! 20-0 for the Cannons!” Ginny laughed, letting herself be taken away for a second by the joy of the day, the brilliantly blue sky, the refreshingly cool wind through her hair. Even halfway across the field, she could make out the colourful form of Ron jumping up and down, waving his arms in the air like a maniac as she spun back into position and the other team took the Quaffle. The Bats Chaser she was shadowing darted left, but Ginny predicted the next move, the Keeper would pass to the right and then he’d send a low pass left and - “Intercepted by Weasley, who fakes right and - OH, that was so fast I could barely follow, I think it was a pass to Fletcher, Harris, now Fletcher again - lovely roll to avoid that Bludger there, back across to Weasley and SHE SCORES! That makes it 30 -0 for Chudley!” Ginny looped back again, waving at the screaming, orange-robed crowd of enthusiastic Cannons fans. She spun back into position just over the half-field line. The opposing Keeper held the ball, awaiting the referee’s whistle to resume play, and- SNAP. Ginny felt a sudden brutal jerk, and before she could determine what had occurred, she was out of control. She pulled up on the handle of her Firebolt to little avail; the world was spinning wildly, all blue sky as centrifugal force threatened to yank her from her broom. A Bludger? But how could it be - the Quaffle wasn’t even in play yet! She pulled up on her broom again with all her might, hearing a series of crackling snaps under her hand, which she now realiszed was blooming with a horrible pain. But somehow, she’d regained control of her broom; she was still sinking towards the pitch, but she was no longer spinning. She landed clumsily, almost falling forward over the handle, which was she discovered was splintered and cracked as she released it. “..and WHAT A FALL! But Weasley looks to be okay!” Lee’s voice boomed. “That’s a certain Bats foul against the Cannons. Beater Ted Wilder with a close range Bludger before the whistle - what’s that about, old man? Got a problem with ladies out-flying you? Oy, well, Wilder’s off for the game, and as penalty, the referee awards 20 more points to the Cannons, who now lead 50-0 after only three minutes of play-” The coaching assistant was running towards her, her spare broom in his hands, followed by Watson the medic. Ginny stared down in disbelief at her trusty Firebolt, the impact of the Bludger just centimeters above where her left hand gripped the handle. The force must have been what had sent Ginny into a tailspin. “You okay, Weasley?” the assistant hollered, handing over her backup broom, Oliver’s old Firebolt. Ginny didn’t reply, she was in the air again in under a second. Anger coursed through her veins, hot like liquid fire. Anger made her play better, she knew. Anger made her reckless and quick, daring. Ginny focused on that, her jaw set, able to ignore the throbbing of her hand until a minute later when she was hurtling toward the Bats’ goal, a quick pass coming towards her from a teammate on the left. The sudden ringing pain that shot up her arm as she caught the Quaffle almost made her black out, but she shifted the ball to her right arm and hurled it fiercely at the nearest ring. “And a save by Bats keeper Matt Toro!” Lee yelled. Ginny gritted her teeth. She could play through this. She glanced down at her left hand. There didn’t seem to be any blood, at least. The tightness of the leather chaser’s glove would keep any swelling down. It was going numb, she realized as she tried to flex it. Everything would be fine. Her right hand was stronger, anyhow. “Let the game take over, Ginny” she whispered Oliver’s advice to herself. “Block everything else, every distraction, and every pain.” Over an hour later, Ginny landed on the pitch with the rest of her team, sweaty and disappointed. The Bats had gotten the Snitch first, and the Cannons lost. Only by twenty points, thanks to the hard work of the Chasers, but a loss was, unfortunately, still a loss. And Ginny had missed two passes on her left side, and a total of four shots on goal - and it was all her fault. That big loser Ted Wilder probably thought he’d rattled her - and that was the worst part. Her entire arm throbbed miserably and she swore she could feel her coach’s eyes burning angrily into the back of her head as they went into the dressing rooms. “Thank bloody Merlin for being the only freaking woman on this team,” Ginny muttered, swearing under her breath as she gingerly unlaced her glove and pulled it off. The skin was purple with bruising. When her broom broke, something must have happened. Or maybe the Bludger hit her... she hadn’t felt anything though. She undressed cautiously, leaning her forehead against the shower wall and letting the scalding hot water rush over her head. Their coaching team wouldn’t yell at them immediately after a loss, Ginny knew. It sounded like a merciful way to deal with things, but it really wasn’t. The head coach would just wait until their next practice to yell. He’d wait until he’d watched the replays a hundred times on his omnioculars and analyzed every single thing she’d done wrong. He’d surely notice his star Chaser favouring her right hand. Ginny Weasley, the little spitfire herself, was the reason the Cannons lost their playoff spot. Ginny cast a drying charm on her hair and took a pain potion out of the back of her locker, pulling the stopper and gulping the entire concoction down. She took a deep breath, and a second later, the pain in her hand diminished from excruciating to a dull roar. She got dressed again in faded blue jeans and a pink t-shirt and cast a temporary cosmetic charm on the skin of her hand, watching the purple fade away. Time for Dinner at The Burrow - an after-game tradition. Ginny really just wanted to collect Ollie and go home to bed. Maybe she would convince Hermione to cast a healing charm first. She locked up her gear and Disapparated. She reappeared at The Burrow, just down the dusty back lane. A little walk would make things better. She loved watching the house appear in all its crooked charm as she reached the top of the hill. The lights in all the windows welcomed her, blazing bright and cheerful in the looming twilight. Ginny had her own home, a big beautiful house that she and her son both loved, but The Burrow would always be her real home. Home was with the people she loved. As she got closer, she could see a figure silhouetted on the porch. She shivered. It was Harry — no, Sean. She wanted to pinch herself to remember: she really had to stop the bad habit of calling him Harry inside her head. She hadn’t been alone with him since that first day, she realized, flattening her hair. She’d seen him twice more over dinner, but between her practice schedule and his time at the Ministry with the Aurors and mediwizards, there had been no time to talk. Butterflies fluttered in her chest as she moved closer to him. He hadn’t noticed her yet. He was looking through the omnioculars, biting his lip in concentration. Ginny stood in front of him for a moment or two, just looking at him —, the perfect jet black of his hair, his languid yet graceful posture. He seemed so peaceful, she didn’t want to disturb him - maybe he’d recalled something at the game, maybe he was in the midst of a memory- “Ginny!” he gasped, dropping the omnioculars into his lap as he noticed her standing in front of him. “Sorry, I never meant to startle you-” “You were excellent out there!” he said, sincere admiration lighting his face. “Breathtaking.” Ginny grinned and shrugged. “Thanks...” “And Quidditch beats all sports, maybe even football!” He shook his head in amazement. “Broomsticks - who would’ve imagined all that’s true?” So the game hadn’t helped him remember. Ginny insides were caving in on themselves. She had been so sure... he had loved Quidditch so much- “Are you okay? How’s your arm?” Ginny’s mouth dropped open in surprise. “What... How in Merlin’s name did you know?” “I was watching the replays,” He picked up the omnioculars. “Your broom, when it broke - the break was right underneath your fingers. Looked pretty awful.” “Bloody hell, can I take a look at that?” He nodded, handing her the omnioculars. They were Ron’s, the fancy special edition ones Ollie had bought him for Christmas a couple of years ago. Only coaches and team captains had them. They were bright silver and had every feature imaginable on a series of small dials along the side - Ginny could zoom right in. She turned the history button back one notch, to show the last scene Sean had been studying. She gulped as she saw Ted Wilder, only ten feet away from her, wind up and slam the Bludger directly at her, a completely malicious act. She pressed the slow motion button, watching the Bludger head towards her. Her Firebolt buckled with the impact, and she watched it give out, the wood beneath her hands breaking, pressing her fingers outwards with extreme force. She cringed. She was lucky she’d been holding the broom like Oliver had taught her to, she realized, something he’d developed as a Keeper to minimize shock. Sean’s viewing angle was perfect. Her hand was likely broken. She held her breath and watched herself fall into a tailspin. Seeing the loss of control, her body whipping around as though she was in a tornado made her uncomfortable. With the shaky fingers on her damaged left hand, she turned the silver history dial back two clicks. When she released it, she saw herself again. She watched for a few moments. It was a minute or so earlier in the game, right before she’d scored her second goal. She watched as Sean’s omnioculars stayed trained on her as she caught the pass and flew towards the goal, hurling the Quaffle through the hoop. As she turned around, she noticed the big victorious smile on her face. Tendrils of her hair had escaped her braid and they blew against her cheek as she laughed. And suddenly, the image zoomed. Ginny’s fingers were nowhere near the zoom dial - she was simply re-watching the history, whatever scenes had just been viewed. Another close-up of her face as she smiled, lips slightly parted, and cheeks flushed pink. And once more, without her impetus, the scene rewound. He must have... but he couldn’t have, really? Did he rewind that scene again? It was the same moment right after the goal, Ginny’s face, and her smile. She realized that she actually looked quite pretty in the image, not yet sweaty and dirty like she was at the end of a match, but slightly windblown, her eyes aglow. The scene rewound again. Ginny bit the inside of her lip, and slowly lowered the omnioculars. “Wow...” “Did it hurt?” Sean looked at her concernedly. “Would you like if I took a look at it?” “Took a look at what?” Ginny said innocently, consciously flashing the same slow-motion smile as she had in the scene she had just viewed in the omnioculars. Sean’s eyes dropped to her mouth. “At your hand, of course,” he replied matter-of-factly, patting the step next to him. Ginny sat down, letting him take her injured hand in his. “Do you know what you’re doing?” “Yeah, I think so. I took first aid classes, and I helped the medic on our football team now and then. I certainly know a broken bone when I see one...” He began to move his fingers incredibly slowly and gently, feeling from the tips of each of Ginny’s fingers down towards her palm, each palpitation feather- light. “No bruising?” “Yes, but I charmed it away...” Ginny’s voice was slightly breathy. “Really? You can do that?” “Yeah.” “You’ll have to show me that later... but for now, just tell me when it hurts, okay?” Ginny nodded, holding her breath. What had she gotten herself into? He didn’t know, he couldn’t know. How could Sean know that the touch of those hands, Harry’s hands, had always rendered her an absolute wreck? “Right there,” Ginny finally managed. “It, uh, it hurts just a little bit.” He was pressing on her first finger, just below the knuckle. “Okay,” he whispered, gliding his fingers gently to the center of her palm. “Does pressure here hurt?” “Not really,” she replied. His long fingers were cool against her skin. “How about here?” His fingers had moved to the cup the flesh at the base of her thumb, massaging gently. “No, that feels good,” Ginny said quietly. Sean raised an eyebrow and Ginny bit the inside of her lip. This wasn’t really a medical exam, was it? No mediwizard had ever massaged her hand during the course of treatment - and she’d had a lot of exams on that wonky left hand. But of course, she had known Harry intimately, she knew those hands, and those hands knew her. She couldn’t forget the things those hands had done… “I think your finger’s probably broken, just above the lowest knuckle,” he replied. Ginny was pleased to note a slight quaver in his voice. He’d stopped his caresses, but her hand still lay cupped inside both of his. “You could be right,” Ginny replied, consciously keeping careful control of her voice as she withdrew her hand, letting her fingers slide lightly across his palm. “Maybe I should let Hermione have a look.” “She can heal it with magic, right?” “Yeah, a healing charm. I’ll be right as rain in a day or two.” “No casts, just charms.,” Sean grinned. “I could really get used to this magic thing.” “What’s a cast?” “A hard plaster mold the doctors wrap around you to hold your bones still while they heal.” “But this plaster, it doesn’t heal the bones together?” “Nope.” Ginny wrinkled her nose distastefully. “So it still hurts, I bet. That sounds awful.” “I think charms are probably a step or two up from casts,” Sean replied, amused. “Speaking of charms, did you buy a new wand yet?” “I did. Moody took me to the shop yesterday.” He pulled a long slender wand from his back pocket. The wood looked slightly darker than his old wand. He looked at it a bit warily. “Haven’t used it yet, have you?” “I’m not supposed to,” Sean shrugged. “I’m going to the Ministry again tomorrow morning, and I might get to try it. The Aurors want to monitor my use for awhile; Moody can help me to regulate what I’m doing, he says.” Ginny nodded. Sean probably didn’t realize that Harry was an incredibly strong wizard, the most powerful wizard of his generation. If he didn’t remember his spells properly, he could hurt himself. Ginny heard an explosive burst of laughter from inside the house, and a happy shriek from her son. Uncle Fred and his Canary Cremes, she thought, grinning. Sean noticed her redirected attention. “Maybe we should head inside...” “Good idea.” Ginny stood up, waiting by the door. Sean stood too, the black depths of his hair glowing slightly blue in the fading light. He stretched his arms above his head and yawned. Ginny tried not to look at the space of skin between his shirt and jeans, at the hard muscles of his stomach, at the silhouette of his body against the sun. It was like one of her dreams - he was so beautiful. She forced herself to look away quickly. “Uh, did you remember anything about Quidditch today?” Ginny asked, talking far too loudly, even to her own ears. “Did it ring any bells?” “I don’t remember Quidditch,” he said, frustration lightly colouring his words. “It was vaguely familiar to me, but no specifics. Like everything else.” “I’m sorry...” Ginny’s hand was still on the door handle, but she suddenly didn’t want to go inside. It was wrong - he wasn’t Harry, not really - but she still wanted to spend more time alone with him, to watch the movements of that familiar mouth, to see it shape her name again. “But I did spot the Snitch through these binoculars almost a full minute before either of the Seekers saw it!” Ginny laughed. “Of course you did, Harry!” “Sean.” “What?” “You called me Harry, and not Sean.” “Oh.,” Ginny felt a sudden pang somewhere deep in her chest. “Oh, Merlin. I’m sorry.” “It’s okay,” he shrugged, looking somewhat embarrassed. “I don’t know why I said anything about it. I don’t really care what you call me, as long as you pick one and go along with it.” “Right,” Ginny replied, her cheeks hot. “Sean. Sorry about that. Your life’s confusing enough right now without having people calling you two different names.” “It’s no problem,” he said, with a warm smile. “Really, it isn’t. Harry’s what you’re used to, after all.” Sean’s face was warm and friendly, but his eyes, something in his eyes was sad, and it tore at Ginny’s heart. He reached behind her and pulled the door open, gesturing inside like a gentleman. “Shall we?” |
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