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All It Takes | ||||||
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:None Genres: Angst, Romance Warnings: Death, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations, Violence Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 150 Summary: Sometimes things don't always work out the way you plan them. Ginny must come to terms with life after the war, even if her life isn't exactly what she thought it'd be. She'll soon realize that all it takes is one little moment to make everything fall into place Hitcount: Story Total: 81794; Chapter Total: 4294 Author's Notes: An update at last! This chapter and me did not get along for the longest time! Nothing I wrote for Jackson’s funeral was good enough to be released so I just kept writing different versions until I found one I could actually use. Thank you to all my readers and to everyone who have left reviews! It’s for you that I keep fighting through the writer’s block. Also, I would like to apologize for the ending—I absolutely couldn’t resist this one, but I’ve had this moment in the story planned out since chapter 1—I just didn’t know when I’d drop it in the plot : ) |
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Hogwarts was on fire. Everything around her seemed to be burning and collapsing into heaps of rubble. The collapsing walls and towers were trapping students, Death Eaters and teachers alike. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a giant running toward her with his club raised with the intent to kill, his terrifying battle cry ringing over the sound of the screams and falling castle. Her wand shook in her hand as she managed to blast the club from the monster’s hand and took advantage of the giant’s moment of shock and confusion to run away. The farther she ran away, the louder the screaming got; there was no escaping death. Hopelessness began to set in as the strength left her legs and she collapsed to the ground with a muffled cry for help. Exhausted, she lifted her head and gasped at what she saw ten feet away: Harry and Voldemort facing each other, their wands raised to kill. Voldemort seemed to be radiating power while Harry looked worn down, tired and weak. “Harry, no!” She tried to yell, but her voice wasn’t loud enough. Voldemort's killing curse lit up the world and blinded her so she had to shield her eyes from the intensity of it. The power of the curse blasted dirt into her eyes and jerked her head up and cried out in relief to see Harry again for Harry still standing. Voldemort, on the other hand, had vanished. Harry turned to face her and was looking at her with a wide smile on his face–the kind of smile he wore whenever he looked at her in a private moment between them. The smile gave her the strength to stand and Harry came to her. “I did it,” he whispered, his lips very close to hers. Ginny revelled in the feeling of Harry’s victory and survival. The stark contrast of the despair and weakness she’d felt moments ago, compared to how well she felt now was startling. His fingers slid through her hair and he pressed his forehead to hers. She wanted very badly for him to kiss her. Instead of granting that wish, he took a breath and asked hopefully, “Do you love me?” “I love you,” she whispered back without missing a beat. It was all she wanted to kiss him and feel happy and whole again. He tightened his grip on her momentarily before leaning back, looking at her quite seriously. “That’s why I need to go,” he told her grimly. “You shouldn’t get your hopes up like this. The school is burning, Ginny. It’s my fault.” And then he took several jerky steps backward, looking at her with regret and sadness. Unable to find her voice to beg him not to leave again, she was forced to watch as he turned his back on her and walked back toward the castle. Ginny woke up with a sharp gasp of air and stared at her ceiling, tangled in her sheets and feeling miserable. Another day, another dream. At least this one wasn’t her usual dose of self-inflicted torture wherein she saw Harry dead in her dreams. It had been a long time since she dreamt of Harry refusing to be with her. Apparently her sub-conscious wasn’t ready to give up her old fears just yet. Stupid, irrational fears, she reminded herself grumpily. Voldemort was gone–if they broke up, it wouldn’t be because Harry had to go save the world. A distraction came in the form of an owl tapping on her window with a note tied to its leg. Ginny yawned and stumbled from her bed, ignoring the dull ache in her abdomen when she practically rolled off the mattress. The pain was definitely going away, but quick movements still triggered some discomfort. She opened her window and allowed the dark brown owl to fly inside. It wasn’t an owl she recognized, but when it ruffled its feathers importantly, held out its leg and stared up at her reproachfully, she guessed this must be an owl from the Ministry. Sure enough, the note was marked with the Ministry’s insignia at the top of the parchment, although she recognized Harry’s writing. With its burden removed, the owl hopped back up to the window sill and took off without another look back. Ginny sat down on the floor to read that Harry had found out the dates of Jackson’s visitation and funeral, which would be held tomorrow and the day after. Below this piece of important information, he wrote: I’m in training all day today, but I promised your Dad I’d come over for dinner. Ron finally made up his mind about moving in with me so I guess it’s a celebratory thing. I made him swear he wouldn’t charm any other walls orange, except the ones in his own bedroom. I need to keep the walls Chudley Canons Free since I’ll need to have Harpy green around the house and orange and green would clash terribly. I’ll see you for dinner. I love you. -Harry. Ginny re-read the note once more, lingering over ‘I love you.’ Turning on the over-analyzer in her, she noted how carefully Harry had written these last few words. This was the first time she’d seen it in writing and it gave her a thrill similar to the one she’d felt after hearing Harry say it for the first time. She was vaguely aware that she was a real idiot in love, but she didn’t care. Hearing Harry tell her he loved her was a thousand times better than when she’d heard it from Dean. This was real… this could be the forever type thing. This thought made her smile widen and she folded the letter carefully and slid it under her pillow for now. Her sub-conscious could keep having stupid dreams all it wanted–the fact was that she finally had what she’d wanted all along. Hermione was downstairs by the time she’d showered and dressed for the day. Hermione was hurriedly unrolling a very familiar roll of parchment, a look of pure excitement on her face. “Hogwarts letters are here!” Hermione sang cheerfully without looking up. Her excitement turned to fascination as she read on. “Look at all the books we’ll need for our N.E.W.T year!” Ginny chuckled at the enthusiasm only Hermione could hold over seeing so many books listed on one roll of parchment. She picked up her own letter and jumped slightly to realize it was bulkier than normal. Hermione beamed and set her own list down at last. She held up a tiny pin that Ginny recognized right away. “I got Head Girl. And I’d say yours most definitely contains Quidditch captain!” Ginny didn’t wait to find out. She tore into the letter and pulled the parchment from within, desperate to see the glint of the badge she’d dreamt of attaching to her robes since making the Gryffindor team. The small badge dropped onto the table, causing both Ginny and Hermione to squeal in delight. “Congratulations!” Hermione exclaimed. Ginny stared at the little badge with excitement. Ever since she’d gotten to Hogwarts, she’d dreamt of following after Charlie and becoming Quidditch captain. When Snape and the Carrows took over Hogwarts, Quidditch had immediately been cancelled along with any other activity that invited school spirit or merriment. There had been no effort to select captains or schedule games and she’d lost her chance at having the badge at her first opportunity. But now, now that she would play as Captain, this would double her chances of being allowed into the International Quidditch League. “Thanks! Congratulations to you, too! Head Girl, huh? That’s pretty great!” Hermione sighed happily and clutched her Hogwarts letter to her chest. “It’s going to be a good year!” Ginny glanced down again at the book list. “A crazy year.” Hermione chuckled. “Yes, but crazy in the normal sense. It’ll be academically crazy, for us. Actually, this will be our first boring year at Hogwarts, if you think about all the other years.” “I’ll believe it next spring when we get through the year without any dark magic or freakish accidents occurring.” Choosing to ignore this comment, Hermione turned her attention to fixing herself a cup of tea. As she stirred her tea bag around the mug, she changed the subject. “It’ll be weird to be in your year. It’ll be weirder to be hanging around with someone who actually cares about getting their homework done at appropriate times,” Hermione added a few moments later, causing Ginny to smirk just a bit. While she was a right side better than Ron or Harry when it came to homework and studying, she knew once Quidditch got underway, Hermione would become totally unimpressed with her dedication to completing ‘Excellent-level’ essays. This year, Quidditch and Harry’s visits would become her new distractions. “It’ll be weird without the boys,” Ginny murmured. “Yeah…” Hermione’s smile faltered as she considered this. After a long moment, she spoke again. “Can I tell you something?” “Sure.” Hermione hesitated before speaking. “They were my first real friends. Before them, I never really fit in anywhere.” Ginny regarded Hermione sympathetically for a moment. Did she really think that this year would be lonely for her? Everyone at school respected her and liked her, especially since the start of the DA. “Hermione, you know you have me, Luna and everyone else right? Lots of DA members are coming back… you’ll know plenty of people.” Hermione smiled, the relief clear in her expression. “Thanks. I know… it just sort of feels like I’m starting again, you know. I realize that I’m not really a social person, but it was nice to have Harry and Ron–to have real friends.” “You still do,” she reminded her gently. Ginny started on making toast before adding, “And if you think Harry and Ron won’t be sneaking into the castle and sneaking us out every once and a while, you’re crazy. What’s a year at Hogwarts without breaking a few school rules?” Hermione chuckled sadly. “That’s true. Although without Harry and Ron, I feel that my rule-breaking days are basically behind me.” Ginny grinned, feeling the challenge in these words. She shrugged as she said, “I don’t think you realize just how much I’ve learned from Fred and George.” *~* The visitation for Jackson was held the following day at a funeral home at the far end of the village. The morning of the visitation, she kept thinking how the guilt would forever sit with her no matter how undeserving she realized was for his death. It was an impossible thing to live with the sacrifice that Jackson had made for her. Up until now, she had only been fretting over her own feelings of guilt– she had never even gone to how his family might feel when she met them at the visitation. Upon expressing her feelings to Harry about this, Harry had offered to let her borrow his invisibility cloak so that she could attend on her own terms. It was a tempting offer to be able to pay her respects without seeing the possible looks of blame, of anger, of sympathy. She didn’t want to have a room full of strangers looking at her and judging her. Still, she turned the offer down, wanting to do this right. She needed to say goodbye to Jackson, but she also needed to face his family and friends and tell her how sorry she was. She needed to know that they didn’t hate her for what happened, and if they did, at least she wouldn’t spend the rest of her life wondering about people thought. As much as part of her wanted to hide from the guilt and blame, she had already made the decision to face life head-on after spending so many years fighting the darkness Voldemort had cast upon the world. The war had already been won and she’d come through everything– she would not waste it by hiding in fear any longer. Harry was still going to attend the funeral with her tomorrow, but as for the visitation, Ginny wanted to do this by herself. She wanted to say goodbye on her own first and she wanted to say goodbye to Jackson properly, without worrying about Harry watching or having to watch. A tiny part of her wanted to have him with her for the visitation as well, but as difficult as she knew this was going to be, she knew that she needed and wanted to do it on her own. And so, when Harry dropped her off, she walked into the funeral home on shaky legs and the terrible feeling that she might throw up or cry if she had to speak to anyone. There was already a line inside leading into the private area where Jackson’s family stood around Jackson’s casket. Ginny joined the queue, her heart beating frantically in her chest as she waited for her turn. As she moved up slowly, she could see that each person in line was given a chance to speak with each family member and offer their condolences before passing the casket, which was open for viewing. As Ginny’s eyes moved over the line of family members, she found her gaze freezing repeatedly over the figure in the casket. Seeing Jackson, she felt the guilt and sadness fill her up. She was suddenly lost in her last memory of Jackson and she began to feel a strong urge to run outside for air. Could she do this? How many people had she seen lying in coffins over the last year? How was this any different? This is very different. Jackson died to save you. Wiping her clammy hands on her skirt, her eyes skated nervously over the line of family again, landing on Jackson’s parents. Ginny had only had brief contact with them over the summer and she remembered very little about them. Their proximity to their son made the reality of having to face them all the more intimidating. Jackson’s father was a tall, slender man with hair like his son’s, and a short, trimmed beard. He stood very straight and seemed almost robotic as he shook the hands of the mourners, his expression stoic, as if he was beyond expressing the pain he surely felt. Next to him stood Jackson’s mother, who unlike her husband, was not masking her pain. She was a small woman with curly blonde hair pulled back into a simple ponytail. Every few seconds she’d raise a shaky hand to wipe her tears and offer a small smile as she said ‘thank you’ to each person who expressed their condolences. Her eyes were red and her face was blotchy from crying–her mother had looked the same throughout Fred’s funeral service; this memory was not a comforting one. As Ginny moved up the line, Jackson’s still figure became harder and harder to ignore. Her heart squeezed as she finally allowed herself to really look at him, knowing she needed to look at his face now before she got to the casket and totally lost it. Her legs kept moving forward with the line, but she felt numb as she took in Jackson’s relaxed expression. He was dressed in a simple black suit, white shirt, no tie and shiny black shoes. His hands were folded over his stomach, the fingers relaxed against his shirt. “Hi, thank you for coming,” said a soft female voice. Jolting back to reality, Ginny turned to face one of the first of several family members. The speaker had to be a little older than Ginny, but she looked nothing like Jackson or his parents. “I’m Lydia, Jackson’s cousin,” Lydia said, reaching out to shake her hand. Feeling oddly jerky, Ginny reached out to take her hand and shook it, wishing she her hand wasn’t so sweaty. It took her a moment to gather her thoughts and force her tongue to work. “I’m Ginny–a friend of Jackson’s,” she managed to say, her voice cracking as she said her name. Did they know the name of the friend he’d died for? How much did the Aurors remove from their memories? Apparently the Aurors left this piece of information as Lydia was startled and she dropped Ginny’s hand quickly as if she’d been burnt. Her eyes became very round and Ginny found herself tensing for any onslaught of whatever emotion Lydia might be feeling. However, after the world’s longest pause, Lydia nodded slowly and swallowed hard. “It’s nice to meet you,” Lydia murmured. “We wondered about you, of course,” she stammered. She glanced toward Jackson and then back at Ginny, again offering her hand. “It’s nice to meet you.” “I’m sorry for your loss,” Ginny replied, feeling stupid at how derivative this must sound coming from her and after hearing it a hundred times over. “Thank you,” Lydia said calmly. “Jackson would have…” She cleared her throat and seemed to fight the tears that had suddenly welled up in her eyes. “Thank you for coming,” she repeated, perhaps finding it easier to say than to say anything of substance. Ginny nodded, trying not to dwell on Lydia’s reaction. She had six more relatives to meet before reaching Jackson’s parents and Jackson himself. Strangely, everyone seemed to have the same expression of shock and then reserved reaction to hearing her name. No one seemed to get angry or overly upset and everyone spoke quietly, which was frustrating, as the next relative had no idea who they were meeting next. Ginny wondered if their shock came partly from the fact that Jackson had died to save someone they’d probably never heard of. At least, there was a very good chance that no one knew about Jackson’s crush, so there would be no misconstruing of the reason Jackson had stepped in front of her. They might hate her more if Jackson had died for some random girl that had turned down an actual relationship with him. When she finally came to Jackson’s father, the fear of being hated and blamed became the strongest. She wasn’t sure that his parents would even remember her as their meetings had always been brief. However, when she moved in front of her father, his eyes widened and he seemed to freeze and his mother grabbed her husband’s arm in surprise. Perhaps they’d been waiting for me to come, perhaps they’d expected I wouldn’t come– it was difficult to say. No one said anything for a long moment as Ginny stood there, unsure of what to say or how to act without an indication from Jackson’s parents. “It’s Miss Weasley, right?” Jackson’s father, Mr. Hendole, asked in his deep voice. “Yes, sir,” Ginny replied in barely a whisper. She wished she sounded braver or less terrified, but it couldn’t be helped now. She was glad that her tongue was working at all. His parents exchanged a look before turning back to Ginny. “We’d hoped that you’d come,” Mr. Hendole said, holding out his hand. “I wish we’d actually met on better circumstances-- perhaps if we’d been acquainted better earlier, it might be less of a shock to hear what happened.” “Johnathan!” Mrs. Hendole whispered, sounding slightly irritated as she stared at her husband. Mr. Hendole patted his wife’s hand. “I don’t mean that to sound cruel. I just mean that I wish our son had been a little better at introducing us to the friends who meant most to him–he was always a private young man.” “You clearly meant very much to Jackson,” Mrs. Hendole whispered. “It’s cliché, but I know my son would prefer to…” she trailed off, unable to finish that sentence. She let out a small, shaky breath and then added, “you know… before letting his friends get hurt.” Ginny shook her head slowly. “He shouldn’t have had to.” “No,” Mrs. Hendole agreed in a faint whisper. This surprised both parents. “Well, I am very glad to have met you,” Mr. Hendole said, holding out his free hand. “My friendship with Jackson meant a lot to me–I miss him very much,” Ginny managed to say as the tears welled up in her eyes. She shook Jackson’s father’s hand, unable to stop the tears from coming now. “His friends meant the world to him, we know that much,” Mr. Hendole replied calmly. “He would do anything for his friends and family.” “I know,” Ginny agreed miserably. “I just wanted to tell you how sorry I am for your loss.” “Thank you,” whispered his mother, her eyes full of tears as well. “It’s your loss, too, of course. I’m sorry you’ve lost a friend, so young.” Too young to have lost a brother and so many friends, she thought miserably. She met Mrs. Hendole’s eyes and suddenly she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around her, sobbing. Ginny returned the hug, totally lost as to why she deserved this. “I can see how hard this is for you,” Mrs. Hendole whispered to her. “My son would do anything for his best friends–any friend of his that meant that much to him doesn’t deserve to shoulder any blame,” she whispered shakily. “We certainly do not hold you accountable for what happened.” Hearing these words, Ginny felt a great weight slowly lift itself off her shoulders. Jackson’s mother released her and held her at arms length. “Jackson was a good man–please don’t let his actions go to waste. Live your life, do not be held by grief.” “It’s not your fault,” Mr. Hendole said, his voice catching. Unable to stop herself, she said, “I watched it all happen–I didn’t have time to stop him and I had no idea he would jump in front of me.” Mr. Hendole’s hand found her shoulder and he squeezed in reassurance. “That’s who he was,” he simply said quietly, repeating his wife’s words. “I know for certain that my son would never want you to bear the guilt of his death, Miss Weasley.” Ginny nodded, hastily mopping up the tears she’d shed. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, unable to find anything else to say. “Thank you for coming,” Mrs. Hendole said sincerely, pulling her back into a final hug. Ginny bit her lip to keep from completely breaking down at the kindness from these people. Part of her wished that they could know the whole truth and truly understand the circumstances in which Jackson had died. Just before she released her, Mrs. Hendole whispered in her ear: “Jackson wanted you to live your life–please promise me that you’ll really live it. That kind of act should never be forgotten,” “I will,” Ginny promised sincerely. Mrs. Hendole released her and after exchanging final looks of understands with his parents, Ginny took the final few steps to Jackson himself. There was no pain or suffering on his face; there were no marks on his skin that told of a struggle. He looked calm and peaceful; he looked like Jackson. Ginny took a deep breath and wiped away her tears as she stared down at her friend, silently thanking him for his friendship, for being in her life and for saving her. In her head, she told him she was sorry that they’d fought and that she wished she could have protected him. If she’d had a few moments alone, she would tell him everything. She’d tell him why he’d died and the reason that they were attacked. She’d tell him that magic existed and that there was a whole part of her life that she’d from him, partly out of necessity, partly because the life she’d assumed with Jackson and Annie had been perfect because it hadn’t had anything to do with magic or her past. “I’m so sorry, Jackson. I’ll never forget you,” she whispered, uncaring that she was probably holding up the line and that people were watching her. Wishing she could say more, but knowing she couldn’t say what she wanted without having privacy, she reached out and touched his cool cheek briefly. “Goodbye,” she murmured. “And thank you for being my friend–you have no idea how much I needed you in my life.” She could feel Mr. and Mrs. Hendole’s eyes on her as she walked toward the exit and it was all she could do to hold her imminent breakdown inside. Despite how terrible she felt, Ginny felt a small flicker of happiness that she’d said goodbye to Jackson and spoke to his parents. The second she’d walked toward the front door of the building, a sob ripped from her chest. Fortunately, many people around her were crying so it wasn’t strange that she moved to a bench by the door and sat down to have a moment alone. She cried because she missed Jackson, she cried because of how difficult that goodbye was and she cried because Jackson was just another person who had died because of the evil that Voldemort had brought to the world. It was sickening to think that yet another muggle family had been affected by a war that they had no part in and no awareness of. Taking a breath to calm herself, she straightened her clothes and glanced around, glad that Harry wasn’t around to see her like this. As much as she liked having a shoulder to lean on and someone supportive to depend on, she needed to have a moment to let her emotions out. Her tears slowly subsided as she tried to focus on the people walking about. There were still plenty of people coming into the funeral home and lots more hanging around the cars, both coming and going. There were lots of sad faces and tears, lots of hushed voices and many whispers about what a tragedy this had been. An older woman passed with her teenage son, shaking her head with disappointment as she spoke vehemently. “It makes me sick. Who comes into a little town like this and attacks a group of kids in cold blood? You always hear awful things like this on the news, but you never expect it to happen to your town!” Ginny watched as the teenager shook his head, expressing his own shocked opinion that such terrible things always seemed to happen to nice people. Ginny silently agreed with this statement as she stood to leave, deciding she didn’t want to hear anymore laments about being unable to understand why this had to happen. As much as she wanted to be honest with Annie and Jackson’s parents, the International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy was doing more good than harm. She peered around the parking lot, wondering if Harry was coming back soon to pick her up, or if he was still here. As it turned out, she did not have to wait for long. “Ginny!” Ginny spun around to find Harry walking toward her, dressed as a muggle in jeans and a red T-shirt. Ginny smiled to see him, her emotions reeling in the opposite direction as she hurried to meet him, throwing her arms around him and kissing him the second she got close enough to reach for him. Harry made a noise of surprise as he caught her, but he kissed her back enthusiastically. When she pulled back, he was smiling dazedly. “What was that for?” Having no other answer or than she’d suddenly really wanted to feel Harry’s lips on hers, she shrugged. “I needed that.” He chuckled and kissed her once more before taking her hand and leading her back the way he’d come. He waited nearly a minute before asking her how the visitation had gone. He listened as she told him about what Jackson’s parents had said to her and how good it had felt to hear that they didn’t blame her. “It was just not what I expected,” she told him. “I didn’t necessarily expect them to hate me, but I figured it would be awkward and no one would know what to say to each other.” “They seem like nice people,” Harry replied with a shrug. “I guess they’re not really surprised that their son did what he did. I don’t think your parents would be, either. What happened to Fred was different, but if he’d died to save you or another one of your siblings, no one would think it was out of character.” “That’s true,” Ginny admitted thoughtfully. She sighed and ran her free hand through her hair wearily. “Well, now it’s just the funeral now and then it’s all over.” “And then life starts to go back to normal.” “What is normal? I don’t think I remember what normal is.” Harry chuckled grimly as he shrugged. “You’re asking me? My entire life to this point hasn’t been normal. You’re one of the few things in my life that actually gives me hope that I could be normal.” She couldn’t help but smile at that. He’d expressed something similar back when they’d first started to date and it had made her feel good then, too. He’d also said the time he’d spent with her had been among the happiest memories he could remember. Harry wasn’t exactly openly romantic, but the few times he did say something romantic or mushy, it was always blatantly honest, unrehearsed and yet completely from his heart. He squeezed her hand in reassurance and she smiled at him. “Hopefully we’ll be normal together one day.” He glanced at her, his expression thoughtful. “It’ll be sooner than you think, Gin.” As it turned out, Harry had his broom hidden in some bushes about a five minute walk from the funeral home. He cast a Disillusionment charm on them and then climbed on the broom. Ginny got on in front and gripped the cool wood tightly as it shot high up into the clouds where no muggle could spot anything unusual. “I can’t wait to get back on the Quidditch pitch,” Ginny shouted over the noise of the wind as Harry urged his Firebolt to pick up speed. “I miss this.” She suddenly remembered her very good news from this morning. “So, guess who is the new Gryffindor Quidditch Captain?” “That’s awesome! Congratulations!” Harry exclaimed in her ear over the sound of the wind. “You’ll make a great Captain!” “Thanks! I think so!” He chuckled at her confidence and pecked her on the cheek. Up in the air on a broom with Harry, it was difficult to hold onto her grief from the visitation. It was still there, of course, but flying and being with Harry took away most of the sting. There was something about being with him that made her feel lighter. Harry had them back at the Burrow in less than five minutes and he set them down in the garden where Ron and Hermione were sitting. They both looked happy to see them as they got off the broom. Without even thinking about it, Ginny slid her hand into Harry’s and walked with him toward Ron and Hermione. “Hi! You weren’t gone long! How was it?” Hermione asked curiously. “It was sad, but I’m glad I went. Jackson’s parents were really nice to me… it was good to be able to say goodbye.” Hermione looked relieved and then she gestured to the empty seats, her eyes very bright. “That’s good. Sit down! Your mum made cookies and there’s some lemonade on the table!” She put a bookmark in the book and closed it eagerly, seeming a little too excited. Harry and Ginny exchanged amused looks as they took seats. Hermione seemed a little too happy to see them–something was definitely up. Harry reached for a cookie and Hermione poured them both some lemonade in silence. Ginny glanced at Ron, hoping to discover the true reason behind Hermione’s good mood, but Ron was a closed book. He was avoiding everyone’s gazes and practically inhaling cookies. “What’s up?” Harry asked suspiciously, breaking the silence. He looked between his two best friends with narrowed eyes, though he seemed to be fighting a smile. “Nothing!” Hermione squeaked nervously, putting on a cheery smile. Ron glanced at Hermione, or rather glared at Hermione, continuing to devour the cookies, but Hermione didn’t seem to notice. “What’s new with you, Harry?” “Hermione, what’s up?” Ginny asked with a laugh. “Ron, please stop. You’re going to choke.” Ron glared and picked up another cookie, but Harry was faster, now actually smiling. “Accio!” The cookie Ron held, as well as the entire plate, slid over to Harry’s side of the table. “Oh, don’t worry! I guess it’s a little awkward–we had a stupid fight–but its nothing!” Hermione babbled, waving her hand as if to dismiss the issue. “We’re good, aren’t we Ron?” “Yeah,” Ron replied shortly as he got to his feet. “Excuse me, I fancy a walk.” “Do you want a cookie to go?” Harry asked teasingly, holding up the cookie he’d swiped from Ron’s hand. Ron, however, ignored him and continued walking. They all watched him start back up to the house, swinging his arms rigidly as if he were really upset about something. Ginny folded her arms and turned back to Hermione. “What sort of fight involves Ron storming off and you acting all nervous? Don’t you two usually scream at each other for a while?” “It’s really nothing,” Hermione said with a sigh, although her cheeks were turning pink. She hesitated and then sighed heavily. “Harry, maybe you should go after him!” Harry looked reluctant, but he stood up as Hermione requested. “Fine, but I’m only listening to this for a maximum of ten minutes and then I’m taking Ginny back to my house where no one fights. And by the way, when Ron moves in with me, you two need to get a long for at least 4 days of the week.” Ginny chuckled at Harry’s mock-threatening tone. “Wow, Harry, no orange walls outside the bedroom and you set conditions on how often they have to like each other… you’re a strict landlord!” He grinned back at her before sighing and turning toward the house. “I don’t know why I get involved,” he muttered. Hermione was watching Harry walk away so to bide her time, Ginny took a cookie from the plate and took a bite of it, figuring Hermione would tell her when she was ready. She’d taken the last bite of her cookie when Hermione slammed her hands down on the table and leaned forward, her expression panicked. Ginny jumped at the noise, her eyes shooting to the rocking glass of lemonade that nearly tipped over. “Okay, we may have a problem,” she moaned. “Ron asked me to marry him.” Ginny began to choke on a mouthful of cookie and Hermione sat with her face in her hands, shaking her head slowly back and forth. Managing to clear her airway after several good coughs, Ginny gaped at her friend in shock, unable to believe her ears. “Excuse me?” Hermione jumped to her feet and began to pace around the table. “MARRY ME! Your stupid brother asked to marry me!” Hermione cried miserably. “Well, sort of… I mean, he didn’t actually ask, but he brought it up! We were talking about how long we’ve known we loved the other one and then… ugh, I dunno. Maybe he didn’t ask!” Before Ginny could enquire how Ron may or may not have proposed, Hermione bulled ahead into full-out panic mode. “This isn’t right! I’m not done school! We haven’t even really dated! You and Harry have dated more than we have! It should be you two first! Harry should ask you to marry him! Ron shouldn’t ask me! I shouldn’t be asked! Maybe Ron told Harry what he was planning to do– ugh, I’ll kill Harry Potter if he supported this ludicrous idea!” Ginny held up her hands, starting to feel nervous listening to this panic attack. “Whoa, Hermione, calm down! I don’t think Harry made Ron propose to you!” Hermione’s eyes filled with tears. “I can’t calm down, Ginny! Ron’s thinking about marriage and all I’m thinking is that I love him and I’m going to miss him this year at school! Does that make me a terrible person? Do I not love him as much as he loves me? And what if he did ask me to marry him and things are ruined? What if he dumps me? I can’t lose Ron!” “Okay, back up. Let’s walk through this slowly and we’ll talk about it. You’re not a terrible person and you and Ron both love each other very much. He won’t break up with you!” Hermione moaned and continued to pace around the table. Ginny watched her movement, a little amused, but also a little scared of another explosion of illogical arguments. She was dying to know what had actually happened, but she was also curious to know how this had come up. However, most of Ron and Hermione’s arguments came up spontaneously during what would be normal conversations for other couples. The good thing was that this fight, just like every other fight between them, was always out of love. They might want to kill each other in the moment, but Ginny knew that her brother adored Hermione and that Hermione loved Ron. It wasn’t hard to see that they actually liked the fighting–at least on a subconscious level. She wondered how they would handle not being able to fight like this while they were separated during the school year. Normally, she didn’t like to get into the middle of their couple’s spats, but if the Howlers started coming in, she vowed to hex Ron into a peace treaty for the duration of the school term. As she watched Hermione circle the table, wringing her hands nervously, she tried not to laugh. She reached for another cookie and began to chew, waiting for the real explanation behind this latest Granger-Weasley blowout. So much for being able to relax with Harry, Ron and Hermione--- apparently it wasn’t quite the time for a normal, drama-free life. |
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