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The Space Between | ||||
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Category: Post-OotP Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama Warnings: Sexual Situations Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 37 Summary: On summer days, emotions can burn as hot as the sun... Summer interlude between four friends. Hitcount: Story Total: 6513 |
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**** Sweat clung to Ginny Weasley's back as she soared through the air, the handle of her broom clenched tight in her sweaty, slippery fist. Her hair, piled up in a bright red ponytail, was damp and flattened to her forehead and fluttering itchily against the nape of her neck. Not even soaring as she was through the air could relieve the oppressive heat of the sun. "Ginny! DUCK!" George called and she barely had time to roll over, slippery palms sliding over the handle, out of the way of the whistling, speeding Bludger that shot past her. She righted and watched it go, then turned her attention back on the game. Hermione, looking harried and red-faced, her bushy brown hair curly with humidity, caught the bright red Quaffle that a pink-haired witch tossed at her with a laugh. Ginny sped toward the makeshift goal (a glittering hoop of light Fred had conjured) that Ron was busy circling on his own broom, his face red, ginger hair damp and spiky with exertion. "Hermione! I'm open!" she yelled and the older girl immediately tossed the ball in her direction...and came up short a few feet. Ginny swooped after it, scooping it out of mid-air with her fingers, and spinning on her old broom to face the glittering goal again. Ron's eyes narrowed. She raced forward, faked to the left, twisted her broom to the right and then tossed the Quaffle overhand toward the glittering hoop. It looked like it was going to sail inside and indeed it would have if Ron's long, lanky limbs hadn't intercepted it inches from scoring. He caught it with his outstretched fingers, smiled his wide, lopsided grin and tossed it back to a whooping Tonks who teetered on her broomstick, pink hair falling across her eyes. Ginny sighed and spun her broomstick around to start the play again. Harry swooped down next to her out of nowhere, his glasses slipping down his nose, face shiny with sweat. The front of his t-shirt was clinging to his chest where it was damp down the middle. He was livid. "What were you doing, Ginny? I told you to do the Tornado Twist!" he said hotly, hovering in mid-air on his gleaming Firebolt. Ginny's eyes narrowed and she pushed her flattened fringe off her forehead. "I did! Maybe you weren't looking?" she retorted with a snap, ducking once more to avoid the speeding Bludger as it made it's way around again. Fred shot past it with a wide grin and slammed it skyward. Ginny's attention never left Harry's face, however. "I was watching and you did it wrong," he said with an exasperated sigh. "You're supposed to fake right and twist to the left, not the other way around." "Well Ron was on the right side of the hoop...it made more sense to--" "But you didn't score! If you'd done it like I'd told you then you would have," Harry said heavily and Ginny bristled under his haughty interjection. "Just because you're Captain now that Angelina's left school, doesn't mean that you can tell me how to score! I made a judgment call--" "And it was wrong!" he interrupted again and she blew out a hot breath from between her sunburned lips. She readied an insult to fling back at him when Hermione, sensing danger, glided in between them and held up her hands. "No fighting! It's just a stupid game of Quidditch! And it's not even for the House teams!" she said shrilly, her bushy head swiveling to and fro from Harry's face to Ginny's. "That's not the point, Hermione. If she'd just listen to me--" "Look mates, the important thing is Ron protected the goal," Fred said with a grin, twirling his thick bat in his fingers. "That's a miracle in and of itself!" George exclaimed beside his twin as Ron made a sound of protest in front of the goal a few feet away. "Hey!" he shouted, screwing up his eyebrows in annoyance. "Hey yourself," Fred replied offhand, grinning as Ron scowled. "So, are you two done bickering for the millionth time or are we going to finish our game?" "There's nothing to finish...we're not even keeping score," Hermione said as she teetered on her broomstick, obviously the most ill-at-ease in the air, never having the opportunity to do as much flying as the rest of them. "You're just angry because you haven't scored yet," Ron said cheekily, getting over Fred and George's earlier barb in an instant. He smiled at Hermione as she shot him a scathing glance. "Well I don't really like Quidditch anyway..." She tried to wave him off but he just chuckled at her, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down. Ginny saw that his eyes were strangely alive as he looked at Hermione. She wasn’t sure she liked the look. "So are we going to play or do I need to curse all of you?" Tonks spoke up as she leaned forward on her sleek broom, twirling the Quaffle in her hands and looking down her nose at them all, mischief gleaming in her eyes. Ginny glanced at Harry and then turned back to Tonks. "Sure. You did bring us the balls after all," she said, holding out her hands for Tonks to toss her the Quaffle. "Well I couldn't stand one more minute of sitting around doing nothing while I was protecting--" Tonks trailed off, glancing sidelong at Harry. Harry's face darkened, but he just circled higher to watch over the game and try to find the glittering gold of the Snitch as it fluttered amongst the players. He'd already caught it twice since they'd started playing. The letter from Hogwarts announcing him Captain had sparked fervor in him that seemingly rivaled even that of Oliver Wood. He wanted to win this year and he wasn't going to let anything stop him. Tonks shrugged. "Let's play, then!" George said, breaking the slight tension in the air and Ginny sent him silent thanks. The seven players; Fred, George, Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Ron and Tonks all scattered and the game began again. As Ginny ducked and dived the Bludger Fred shot at her and the one George protected her from, she watched Harry out of the corner of her eye. He scanned the sky, pushing his round glasses back up his nose with an impatient jerk of his wrist, his mouth twisted in annoyance. He turned his broom in her direction as she dived another Bludger and their eyes met for one instant. His green eyes blazed at her and she glared back, not in the least cowed by his anger. He'd been in a foul mood since arriving at the Burrow, which had been fortified over the months for everyone's protection, and she was getting tired of it. After the first night when he'd refused to talk about anything to do with Sirius or what had happened in the Ministry of Magic, everyone had been treating him like he was going to break at a moment's notice. Everyone but Ginny, that is. She'd grown weary of Harry's sullen moods and biting sarcasm at every little thing anyone did. She understood that he was hurting and his foul mood was understandable, she just wasn't willing to take it any longer. Other people were hurting too and he'd just have to get over it. Sooner rather than later. "Ginny!" Tonks yelled, drawing her attention away from Harry's green eyes. Ginny turned in time to catch the Quaffle, then put on a burst of speed toward the goal. She streaked toward Ron, eyes narrowed. A flash of silver and gold caught her eye. The Snitch! It was fluttering right in front of her, matching her for speed. Ginny tried to shoo it away, but it fluttered there in front of her, blocking her way to the goal. She started to dive and go under it, but something dark was suddenly at her elbow and she glanced to the side to see Harry matching her, hand outstretched toward the Snitch. "GINNY! HARRY!" Hermione yelled suddenly. With no more warning than that, something dark slammed into Ginny's side. The Quaffle flew from her hands as she fell sideways on her broom, slamming into Harry, who grabbed her around the middle. Together they tumbled off their brooms, landing in the dirt in a tangle of limbs. Ginny gasped at the pain in her shoulder as she collided with the ground, her head on Harry's sweaty chest. He groaned and stirred beneath her, the wind obviously knocked out of him. Ginny felt the same way. "Merlin's beard! Are you two okay?" Tonks asked as she landed beside them and grabbed Ginny by the shoulders to lift her up. Harry sat up a moment later, shaking his head. "I'm fine. What in bloody hell was that?" Ginny asked, rubbing her shoulder. She could tell there was going to be a rather large bruise there in a few moments. "Bludger," George said as he landed, looking guilty. "Sorry about that--I thought you saw it!" "Does it LOOK like I saw it?" Ginny said angrily, gaining her feet. "I was too distracted by Harry and the Snitch--" "Don't blame it on me!" Harry said, jumping to his feet, particles of dirt coating his dark hair and one side of his face. "If I hadn't caught you, you'd probably have broken your neck! As it was, I missed the Snitch!" "And that's MY fault? I was trying to get AWAY from the damned thing! AND you!" Ginny replied with a snarl, stepping up to Harry to jab one finger into his chest. "You were in my way!" "You were in MY way! I can't help where the Snitch goes, you know!" Harry exclaimed, glowering down at her. "Neither can I! I was trying to score and--" "Trying is the key word, Weasley! If you'd do like I told you, you'd have scored over fifty points already," Harry cut across her, folding his arms over his chest. "Instead you try and kill me--" Ginny's mouth flew open in disbelief. "Believe me, if I wanted to kill you, I'd have done it long before today, Potter! You're wearing on my last damned nerve!" "GOOD! You're wearing on mine! You don't do a damned thing I say! I tell you to score and you disregard my directions and--" "I AM NOT GOING TO TAKE ORDERS FROM A SNOT NOSED PRAT WITH A FIREBOLT STUCK UP HIS ARSE!" Ginny yelled, eyes flashing. A fresh wave of sweat broke out over her skin as she glared at him. Harry's eyes narrowed. "Then maybe you should just consider dropping off the team!" "If YOU'RE going to be the Captain, then maybe I should!" she snapped. "Evidently, nothing is good enough for precious Harry Potter!" "Don't call me that, Weasley," Harry said in a low voice, mouth tight with anger. A nasty smile crossed Ginny's lips. "What? Don't like that, do you?" she said. "It's true though. Everyone treats you like you're made of spun glass. Don't upset Harry! He might just tear your damned head off if you say something he doesn't like!" "Shut up," Harry growled. Ginny's eyebrows rose and she stepped forward again, jabbing her finger into his chest again. "I'm tired of coddling you, Harry. I'm tired of your bad moods. I'm tired of your tortured soul and I'm definitely tired of your attitude. Everyone else can take it all they want, but I won't. You're not a baby. You're a grown man and you need taken down a peg or two." "I need taking down a peg or two? What about you?" "What about me?" Ginny challenged, jaw set. Harry glared down at her and she was suddenly aware of how close their faces were. The hot air was charged and it crackled between them. Harry's mouth opened like he was about to say something to her, but he snapped it back closed and broke away from her gaze. He looked around in confusion and Ginny followed his gaze. The glittering goal post was gone. So were the others. Harry and Ginny were alone on the grassy field. Harry glared back down at her. "Look what you did!" "ME?" "Yeah you! Now the game is ruined," Harry snapped. "I hope you're happy." "I didn't ruin the game Harry. You did!" "Don't blame it on me, Ginny! I'm not the one who kept arguing with me--" Ginny suddenly slammed the flat of her palms into Harry's sweaty chest, knocking him backward a few steps. "THAT'S IT! I'm tired of it!" "OF WHAT?" Harry shouted back at her, regaining his footing and charging at her. He was livid at having been pushed, but Ginny didn't care. She'd had more than enough of Harry Potter. "YOU!" she shouted. "I'm tired of YOU, Harry!" He stopped dead in his tracks, his hands twitching like he'd like to hit her. She glared at him and he glared back for a moment before screwing his eyes shut. A muscle worked in his jaw. Then he opened his eyes and glared at her once again. "I'm tired of me too," he said stiffly and then turned on his heel and walked away toward the house, leaving her to stare after him, sweating, her heart pumping in her chest. Ginny swallowed, her tongue cottony from the heat and all the shouting she'd been doing. She looked down at the ground and closed her eyes. She didn't like the look that had come to Harry's eyes, didn't like the guilty feeling now lumping in her stomach. She'd only told him the truth though. Then why did she feel so bad? **** Ron wrenched his worn, faded blue jeans up his narrow, wet hips, cleared the zipper and pulled it up with a faint zipping sound. The button followed and he scratched his fingers lazily through the curls of water-beaded ginger hair running a line to from his navel downward. Water droplets clung to his freckled, ruddy skin and he snatched up his towel immediately and began drying his hair. The coarse towel grated on his sunburned scalp, but he ignored the irritation and kept at it until his hair was tangled on his head. He dropped the wet towel back over his sunburned shoulders and looked around for his comb, which had the unfortunate habit of running off whenever it was needed due to a prank of the twins’. He was searching through the piles of rubbish that had collected on his dresser drawer, when he heard his door creak open and the startled sound of surprise that followed. He whipped around, hair plastered across his eyes. He saw Hermione backing out the door through the tangled red strands and felt a small smile cross his sunburned lips. "Hey Hermione," he said lazily, but she looked rather stunned. "I was just...sorry..." And she started to back up again, intent on escape. "It's okay," he said. "I just took a cold shower. It's way too hot out there. I must have sweated a bucket load." "I...yes it is hot," Hermione said, though her mouth was barely moving. Ron sat down on his bed and started clawing his fingers through his tangled, wet hair. The comb had obviously escaped again and he would just have to make due. He looked up through his fingers and fixed his gaze on Hermione standing near the door. "Hope Mum makes a Cooling Concoction soon. I could use one," he said, thinking longingly of the cool liquid that would make the heat bearable. "Oh, I've heard of those..." Hermione trailed off. Ron looked at her again and noticed she was staring at him. "What?" "Nothing..." she started to say, her mouth opening and then closing quickly. She'd changed clothing since the Quidditch match and her bushy hair was in great curls from the humidity, but she'd pulled it back off her neck, which was slightly pink, though the rest of her skin was a lovely brown. She had a scattering of freckles across her nose that usually disappeared by the time winter rolled around. Now they stood out, proud and few compared to the army of brown spots clamoring over every inch of his skin. Her legs, which he could see a goodly stretch of beneath the hem of her yellow sundress, where long and tanned. The thin cottony material floated around her thighs and he thought if he could just get her in the sun he could see through the material to-- He shook his head and continued to claw his fingers through his hair, his burnt skin protesting as he rotated his shoulder. Lower, beneath the sunburn on his freckly shoulders were raw scars crisscrossing up and down his biceps and forearms. They were raw red ribbons in the skin and pain radiated from them every time he moved. He'd grown so used to the pain that he barely paid it any attention. It had lessened over time and he knew by the time school started once more, it would be completely gone. The scars threatened to stay, as they were still deep and raw, but he didn't mind that so much. What he didn't like were the feelings he couldn't control. Feelings and images that flashed on the insides of his eyelids even when his eyes were open. He knew they didn't come from him. They, like the scars on his arms and chest, were remnants of the brain attack in the Ministry of Magic. Madam Pomfrey and Professor Dumbledore had both assured him that they weren't permanent, but they hadn't told him exactly how long they would last. And they, unlike the scars, didn't seem to be weakening any as time went on. It was causing him a great amount of pain. He didn't like the sudden surges of anger that he couldn't control or the images flashing in his brain that had no earthly reason to be there. He wanted it all gone, but it would take time. "Do they hurt?" Hermione suddenly asked and he moved his hand to stare at her, his fingers and thumb caught in a large snarl. He wrenched them free and blinked owlishly up at Hermione. She was looking at his chest and arms, her tanned face going slightly pale, lips pressed in a thin line. He followed her gaze and a flash of anger ran through him, white-hot like lightning. "It's none of your business," he snapped, standing with a smooth motion, slowly drying water droplets curving down his skin at the movement. He realized she hadn't seen most of the scars, the deepest of which were on his torso where the brain had attached directly to him. Her gaze was caught on the ugly stretch of skin and his dark brown nipples, the sparse ginger hair spattering over the freckled skin and downward. "Stop staring at them." Hermione seemed taken aback by his tone and she started, brows drawn up. "I'm sorry Ron," she said, running her hand across her cheek as if he'd slapped her. "I didn't...I wasn't staring..." "Get out," he said, his anger rising again. He had no reason to be angry with her--but like most of his emotions lately, it was unexplainable, sudden and fierce and he couldn't fight it, just as he couldn't fight the heat seeping through the house and drowning him in warmth despite the effects of his cold shower. "Ron--" Hermione's expression was hurt and he could see anger rising at his rudeness. His teeth ground together as pain laced up his arms and his chest spasmed. The pain grew until he wanted to rip at his burnt scalp and tear his own brain out. He advanced on Hermione and he saw her startlement at his sudden movement toward her. She backed up and he caught her wrist in his hand. Her fingers curled into a fist, her mouth opened and she drew in a sharp breath. She looked afraid. Afraid of him. "Are you afraid of me?" he said with a touch of awe in his angered voice. Hermione's expression went from one of fear to anger in an instant and she drew herself up, her chin tilted toward him. "Why would I be afraid of you Ron?" she snapped. "Just because you've been a temperamental little prat lately--" "I have not," he growled. Hermione's lip twisted in what he knew was disbelief. "Don't give me that look!" He squeezed her wrist and she grimaced with pain and then lashed out a hand, thumping him in the shoulder. His sunburned skin twinged from the sudden contact of warm skin on warm skin and he let go of her wrist immediately. Hermione fixed him with a glare. "Just so you know, Ron," she said in an even voice. "Being a prat doesn't look good on you. It doesn't look good on anyone. Look at how Ginny snapped at Harry!" "Harry isn't a prat!" But Ron knew he was kidding himself. Harry had been acting like a first class prick ever since he'd arrived from Privet Drive and everyone had just let it go. Ron especially. He remembered the look on Ginny's face as she'd screamed at him (and before they had all made their escape) and he'd never been so glad in all of his life that she was his sister. He wasn't brave enough to tell Harry off, but she obviously had no problems doing it. "Of course he is! It's about time one of us told him off and I'm glad it was Ginny," Hermione said, echoing his thoughts. "I'd rather not have my head bit off thank you very much! Especially when I'm only concerned!" Ron knew she was talking about him now and it irritated him beyond all reason that she should be concerned for him. Ron surged forward, trapping her against his bedroom door, crowding the space between them. Startled, Hermione's hands went up and she pressed the flat of both palms to his flushed, scarred skin. Pain lanced up through his limbs and he grit his teeth, his hands going to her waist in a flash. His thumbs swept down to her the round curves of her hips and Hermione let out a strangled sound, like she wanted to scream and couldn't. Something dark crowded his brain, the pain choking anything else he was thinking off. His forehead pressed onto hers and she exhaled in fear. He could smell her fear and he liked it. He squeezed her hips and brought them forward against his. Hermione's fingers clawed at his chest and he closed his eyes, pain and anger, fear and want charging through him. Disgusted, Ron suddenly pushed away from her and allowed air to flow back into him. He blinked, darkness escaping across his vision. He hadn't realized he had almost blacked out, but there were sparks swimming in his vision like salamanders in flame. He looked up through his tangled, wet hair at Hermione. She was backed against his door, her eyes wild with fear and confusion. "Ron...?" she started, but he turned his back on her. "You'd better go," he said shortly, feeling more anger welling inside of him. But this anger wasn't foreign. It belonged to him and it wasn't for her. He was suddenly filled with loathing for himself. "Ron what was that?" "GO!" He didn't bother to turn, but the sighing of the door hinges told him that she had gone. He turned back around to face the door just as it closed. Confusion tore through him. What had he almost done? He looked down at the scars on his arms and upper chest, at the angry red seams that almost seemed to glow, as if sending more anger up at him. For the first time, he felt he must truly know what Harry went through. But unlike Harry's scar, these would go away with time. If only he didn't do something very stupid and very dangerous before then. **** Harry slipped out of the Weasley's kitchen, the top of his head bathed in warm sunlight, his black hair soaking it up and scorching the scalp beneath. The back of his neck was slightly red from playing Quidditch earlier in the day and it felt tender whenever he turned his head. The parched, sun scorched grass beneath his trainers was rough and it crackled as he walked across it, tall weeds whipping against the legs of his jeans. He looked around; making sure no one was out there to see him and was pleased when he saw that the garden was empty. He'd actually managed to give Tonks the slip! The huge, unkempt garden sprawled out in front of him and he glanced back at the twisted frame of the Burrow. As much as he loved the Weasley's house and the familiar, magical rooms and objects, he needed to be away from them for a while. He climbed over the garden wall, landing catlike on the other side. He stood upright, peering at the rolling, parched countryside stretching out before him. Over the rise of one hill he could barely make out the spire of the church in nearby Ottery St. Catchpole. He turned his back on the view and circled the stone wall, not looking anywhere in particular until he rounded the crumbling corner that opened up into a view of the pond in the field behind the Burrow. He stopped dead in his tracks, his breath caught in his throat. Down in the field, the Weasley's pond glistened invitingly, despite the green scum floating on the edges. The surface peeking through was a deep blue that reflected the sky. Sweat itched Harry's back and he had the sudden urge to jump in fully clothed, green scum and all... But the water wasn't the only thing before his eyes. Ginny was standing in the pond up to her knees, bright red hair streaming out behind her in the stiff, hot breeze that made the air seem even drier. Harry's stomach did an unexpected flip-flop and he grabbed hold of the crumbling brick wall for support. He watched her for a moment, curious as to what she was doing, his eyes crawling hungrily over her lone form in the water. He hadn't seen her since the Quidditch game and their resulting shouting match. He'd been running over the incident in his mind ever since and was no closer to ridding himself of the horrible feeling he had in his gut. Ginny had all but told him she hated him and he couldn't bring himself to stop obsessing over what she'd said. She was right though. Everyone had been treating him differently. He knew it, she knew it. They all knew it and he wasn't making it any better by acting like a total prat to everyone. He'd tried to stop, but it just happened, especially around her. She seemed to go out of her way to make him angry, as if she enjoyed it. Harry watched her intently, clinging to the wall of the Weasley's garden. She moved slowly through the knee-deep shallows, lifting her right leg ever so slightly and then staring down at the water for a few seconds before reaching down and picking something up to put in the metal pail she was holding in her hand. Curious to know what she was doing, or so he told himself, he let go of the garden wall and walked quickly down to the shore of the pond, his hands jammed into the pockets of his baggy jeans. He stopped at the edge, the muddy water barely touching the tips of his battered trainers, and watched Ginny silently. If she'd heard him coming down, she didn't show any sign of it. She had her back to him and was busy walking very slowly through the shallows. Harry watched as she lifted her leg again, waited a few seconds and then... "What is that?" Harry asked aloud, breaking the tranquil silence of her work. Her shoulders stiffened, but she didn't show any other sign of surprise as she bent down to pick up the puffy brown...thing that had bobbed to the surface next to her knee. It was long and round and had two antennae on its head like a snail. There were dark green spots on it, like pond scum or seaweed clinging to its sides. "Heedles," Ginny answered tersely, plopping the puffy worm into the bucket with a slosh. "Well, actually they're called Heliols, but when Bill was little he couldn't say it properly so now we just call them heedles. It's a family thing." "What are they for?" he pressed, trying to peer into the bucket from a distance. He caught the sight of more muddy water and more floating heedles bobbing inside of it. "Cooling Concoction Mum wants to make," she said, looking over her shoulder at him. Her freckled cheeks were a sunburned pink to match her top. Harry tried to smile at her, remembering their fight earlier. He hadn't meant to be so hard on her, but the idea of winning the Quidditch Cup this year had been weighing heavily on his mind. He'd missed playing so much last year and to think that he was now Captain had given him a new drive. Ginny wasn't a bad Chaser; she was better than Katie Bell actually, but she needed a lot of work if she was going to play against Slytherin this year. "What are you doing, then? How are they coming to the surface?" he continued, watching her as she kept walking, her eyes lifting to meet his every few seconds. "It's easy enough, really. Heliols are really flat worms that live in the mud here. You can feel them moving around with your feet and they're really, really slow so you can grab them between your toes and pull them up out of the mud. They get scared, inflate themselves like balloons, and float to the surface where you can just grab them there." Ginny shrugged and stopped, water sloshing against her knees. A look of concentration crossed her face and she lifted her leg ever so slightly. Moments later, another heedle bobbed to the surface and she plucked the slimy looking thing up without flinching, then tossed it into the pail with the others. "That looks disgusting," Harry said with awe. "May I try it?" Ginny gave him an appraising look, her dark brown eyes crawling over his face. He suddenly realized his t-shirt was soaked down the middle with sweat and that his hair was flying in ten different directions. He felt very unkempt. "Hop in then. Take off your shoes first," she said with a twist of her lips. In that moment he realized she was forgiving him for their fight, though he didn't feel he deserved it. Harry smiled at her and sat down on the crisp grass, pulling off his shoes without untying the knotted laces. His socks soon followed and he tossed them aside, eager to try the disgusting activity. The water was sun warmed on his ankles as he waded in, mud squishing between his toes. He felt smooth rocks buried in the mud beneath the balls of his feet, but not a single heedle. "How do you know when you've found one?" he asked her, chewing on his lower lip. Ginny smiled and waded over to him, moving her feet in slow circles under the water. "They slither around and then just stop under your feet. You can feel them sort of swell, like a pocket of air and then you can grab them with your toes and pull," she said, concentrating, her golden eyebrows furrowed. Up close, Harry could see that her nose was peeling slightly and that her lips were wet. He tore his eyes away from them and tried to concentrate on finding the heedles like she was showing him. "I can't feel anything," he said, but she grabbed his arm, cutting him off. "Here," she said with a tiny smile, "Right here...I found one..." "What...?" His voice trailed off as she drew him closer, her fingers on his sweaty, oversensitive arms. "Put your foot right here...where mine is," she said as he pulled his foot closer. His bare feet bumped hers in the mud and she moved it out of the way, sliding it alongside his. "Can you feel it?" He could. Something squiggled beneath the arch of his foot in the mud, then stilled for a few moments. Then there was a curious feeling, like a balloon was swelling beneath his foot. "Yeah! It's swelling..." he said as she smiled at him. He noticed that her hand was still on his arm and that they were inches apart. "What...what do I do now?" "Grab it in between your toes. Just...move your foot around until you feel it, clench your toes and pull upward. It'll float out of the mud on its own," Ginny explained as he clenched his toes on the end of the swelling heedle. It was squishy and cushioned between his toes as he lifted his foot and let go. He watched the surface of the water as it bobbed up between his knees like a dead fish. "I did it!" Harry exclaimed as she fished it out of the water. Up close the Heliol was slimy and gross, but Ginny didn't hesitate to pick it up and toss it in the bucket. "How did you learn to do this?" "One of the very odd things you learn living in a wizarding household. I've been doing it every summer since I can remember. When it gets hot like this a Cooling Concoction really hits the spot." "Like air conditioning." "What's that?" she asked, curious. He decided he liked the way her mouth formed questions. Harry stopped himself in mid-thought and looked away from her dark brown eyes. "A Muggle invention. It's a machine system that pumps cool air into your house," he explained with a shrug. "Muggles are so odd," she said with a sigh and then she tilted her head, a snarl of flaming red hair swirling across her face in the stiff breeze. "Wait a minute...why are you down here?" His stomach dropped. "I saw you..." "No, Harry, I mean why are you down here when you know you should be at the house! We could get attacked here and neither one of us could do a thing to stop it..." "I have my wand on me!" Harry protested, pulling it out of his back pocket. "Don't you?" "No. Where would I keep it?" she said, and Harry privately agreed, as he looked her up and down. He caught himself and tried to shoo the thoughts away. "Besides, we're not allowed to do magic outside of school! Don't you remember last year?" "You sound like Hermione," he groused at her, drawing away a few steps, his soaked jeans clinging heavily to his legs. He felt the squirm of a heedle beneath the pad of his foot and quickly pulled it out of the mud with his toes. It rose to the surface and he picked the slimy thing up without looking. His gaze was on Ginny, staring disapprovingly at him a few feet away. "Hermione has a good point most of the time," Ginny said with a frown. "You-Know-Who could come at you while you're away from Tonks and...and kill you or...or the Death Eaters that didn't get caught in the Ministry could Apparate right here and kill you! Surely they know where you are!" "Ginny, everything is fine. I just needed some time alone. I'm tired of having everyone around me all the time. I can't breathe!" he said, walking back over to her and taking the pail of heedles from her hands. He tossed his heedle into the squirmy mass of inflated ones already inside the metal container and looked back up at the red-haired girl in front of him. "Well...you're not alone. You're bothering me," she said with another twist of her lips, an odd gleam of mischief shining in her eyes that reminded Harry of Fred and George. She really did take after the twins in disposition a lot. She'd managed to get something from each of her brothers and it amused and confused Harry that he hadn't noticed that before. "I am? I thought I was helping you," he said, indicating the pail in his hands. "Besides, I couldn't leave you unprotected, could I? "Right. Nothing's going to get me out here and you know it," she said, tearing her eyes off his and moving off toward the center of the pond, where the dark water was deepest and cold threads of current rippled against her bare legs. Harry watched her go, his stomach still doing flip-flops as he replaced his wand in his back pocket. "You never know, Ginny. You did help put those Death Eaters away at the Ministry..." "Right, and I got myself injured the minute the fighting started. Great show I made of myself." Her voice had a bitter edge to it that Harry knew only too well. A small lump rose in his throat, as he thought of that long fight in the Ministry not more than two months before. He bowed his head, fighting down the myriad of emotions those thoughts caused in him. The image of Sirius falling through the veil came to him unbidden and he allowed it to grip him for several long moments before he shoved it away. He turned back to Ginny. "You did well. At least you didn't get attacked by a brain..." Harry forced out, trying to lighten the moment, to forget his agony and loss. Ginny looked over her shoulder at him and smiled warmly. "Well Ron never was a genius," she said as she bent over to pluck another floating heedle off the surface. Harry waded over to her so she could place it in the pail. As she did so, he studied her face, counting the light brown freckles sprinkled over her cheeks and nose. She looked up and caught him staring at her and he lost count immediately. "I'm sorry about earlier, Ginny," he said lightly, much to his surprise. She looked surprised too and bit down on her lip. He went on, "I didn't mean to yell at you like that. I just...." "I know. You're under a lot of pressure. And I didn't score. You wouldn't be a good Captain if you didn't yell at a player if they'd mucked up a play." "But I didn't have to be so rude. And we weren't actually keeping score. It was just for fun. Forgive me?" he implored as she slowly smiled. She touched his arm again; sending sparks crackling across the surface of his sweaty skin. "For everything I said...and how I’ve been acting?" Ginny studied him for a moment, her sherry brown eyes darkened by the glistening water. He felt like he was sinking into them for a moment before she looked away. "Sure," she said with a shrug and then let go of his arm. Warm air rushed over the place she'd touched and he swallowed hard against the tightening in his stomach. She turned her back on him once more and moved off toward the deeper, darker waters that reached past her hips. "You know, Harry I was wondering something--" She was suddenly cut off as a great splash went up around her legs, frothy plumes of water splashing in confusing, obscuring directions. Harry started in surprise and then Ginny screamed. Her hair flew in a crimson arc against the aching blue backdrop of the sky for a moment before she was pulled under the surface of the water with a gurgle. It all happened so fast; Harry barely had time to react. "Ginny?!" Nothing. The surface of the water rippled, but she didn't pop back up. Cold terror ripped through Harry's chest. Something had pulled her under. Harry didn't hesitate a moment longer. He took a deep breath and plunged into the dark water headfirst; it swallowed him up, blood rushing and roaring in his ears. He opened his eyes, ignoring the sting of floating silt in the water and peered around for a sign of Ginny. There was movement to his right. He kicked his feet, cursing the weight of his jeans as he shot forward in the water. It was murky and muddy and familiar, reminding him of that day in the lake at Hogwarts during the Triwizard Tournament. Only here he didn't have gillyweed and gills. He was just regular Harry and he needed air. Something bright flashed across his stinging vision and he propelled himself forward. Ginny's hair was stark red against the murky, greenish water. She struggled in the grips of a small creature Harry recognized instantly. It was a grindylow and a big one at that. It's green, webbed, clawed hands were gripping Ginny's mouth and waist as it dragged her down, it's wide, jagged mouth open in a silent scream. Harry didn't have time to grope for his wand. He reached Ginny and the grindylow, grabbing Ginny around the waist and tugging her as hard as he could away from the grindylow. It held on, it's claws ripping at Ginny's stomach. Blood the color of her hair swirled in the churning water before Harry. Aghast, he pulled harder, bringing his foot up to the grindylow's horned head. He braced it on the creature's wide mouth, feeling the dig of its sharp teeth in the tender pad of his foot, and then he pulled with all his might, attempting to break its grip. The grindylow's head snapped back and it's grip on Ginny loosened. Harry pulled her away as quickly as he could; his feet found the rocky, muddy bottom and he kicked upward toward the surface. Ginny kicked with him weakly and seconds later they broke the surface. Harry sucked in a welcome lungful of air as Ginny did the same, her lip torn and bleeding down her chin. "Are you okay?" he asked her breathlessly, noticing they were in the middle of the pond. She nodded her head and gripped his shoulders, grimacing with pain from the slashes on her stomach. "Can you swim for shore?" "Yeah," she said, gritting her teeth in determination, blood dripping off her chin and hitting the water. "I think so." "Okay...get to shore as fast as you can. The grindylow--" He was cut off as two slippery, scaled hands wrapped themselves around his ankles and pulled him downward with a swift thrust. He barely sucked in a lungful of air before the water closed over his head again and his hands slipped away from Ginny's. **** Hermione's left foot was asleep. She shifted position on the parched grass, stretching her left leg out in front of her and rotating her ankle, her toes clenching and unclenching in her soft, open-toed sandals. The stiff breeze rustled the bound sheaf of papers she had nestled between her knees and the hem of her sundress. A piece of humidity-curled hair blew across her face and she brushed it away with a suntanned hand, her attention wavering from her asleep foot and the papers to the view spread out before her. She had her back on The Burrow, which was down the hill from the low rise she'd positioned herself on. Green shade dappled her skin from the large maple tree she had put her back to, the bark digging into her skin. Below her, the landscape was parched and drying and the sun beat down. She glanced to her left and saw a tiny figure in the Weasley's glittering green pond, long red hair rippling in the breeze. She watched Ginny moving in the water for a few moments before she spotted a familiar figure make its way down to the edge of the pond. Disapproval crossed her features as she watched Harry walk down toward Ginny. Didn't he know he wasn't supposed to leave Tonks' protection? Honestly! She had half a mind to get up and tell him off for it. Laziness spread through her limbs in the hot shade, however, and she couldn't quite blame Harry for walking down to the pond. It looked inviting. Of course, he might have other reasons for walking down there, Hermione thought as she watched the tiny dot that was her friend take off his shoes and then wade into the water. "Boys!" she exclaimed with a derisive snort, shaking her curling hair out of her face. "What about us?" a familiar voice asked from behind the tree, making her jump. She twisted around to see Ron peeking out from behind the tree trunk. She started, a sliver of real fear passing through the chamber of her heart at the sight of him. "How long have you been there?" she asked him, squinting up at him as he pushed away from the tree and looked down at her. His generous mouth was curled upward, a flash of white teeth showing between his lips. The smile was so genuine that she didn't know if it could be real. "Not long," he shrugged, toeing the crackling, dry grass beneath his feet. His t-shirt was sticky with sweat, a pleasant sight to Hermione, who felt her cheeks flush despite herself as he turned his brown gaze on her again. "I came looking for you after...after um..." Their eyes met for a split second and she remembered the intensity in his gaze back in his bedroom. Her stomach knotted, but she nodded her head. She could still feel the places his hands had been. Her hips remembered the forward thrust he had made against them, hard and sexual. Her breath quickened in her throat. "Oh." "What are you doing up here?" He quickly changed the subject, peering down at the papers before her. She glanced at the sheaf of papers, guilt riding through her. After the incident in his bedroom, she had escaped the Burrow to the outdoors and taken the sheaf of papers with her. She needed to do something comforting, something stable and never changing, unlike the light in Ron's eyes, which twisted and moved like a kaleidoscope. "I was...doing homework," she lied, biting down on the inside of her lip. One auburn eyebrow lifted and he shrugged. "You're writing Vicky, aren't you?" "Yes," she admitted stiffly, grabbing for the papers, the stiff breeze rustling the edges. Ron got them before she did, his long, lanky limbs and thin, wiry shape allowing him more speed than her sleeping foot would provide her. "Ronald Weasley, those are private!" "Are they love letters, then? Has he told you he loves you yet?" He said this in a monotone voice, his brown eyes hard as he glared down at the top paper on the stack. Fear ripped through her again. He'd used the same tone in his bedroom before...whatever had happened happened. Hermione climbed to her feet, ignoring her tingling foot, and held out her hand, her heart thumping. "Give me the letters, Ron. Please." "Do you love him, Hermione?" "Hand them over," she said, her voice shaking. He turned his changing eyes up to hers and she saw his lips twist. "I mean...he is famous. I could see the draw. Not a handsome bloke, but looks aren't everything, I guess..." Ron mumbled, attempting to read the letter as she approached him. "Ron, please. Just give them back. I...I don't want to fight with you," she pleaded, her stomach in knots. The carefree expression of earlier was gone and she knew he wasn't going to stop this time. And if she wasn't careful, he wasn't going to give her back Vicky's letters. "We're not fighting. It's an honest question. Do you love him? Does he love you?" "It's none of your business!" "Yes it is!" he shouted at her, tearing at the twine that was wrapped around the loose stack. "I want to know!" The wind picked up, tossing her crackling, bushy hair into her eyes as she reached for the papers in his hands. He dodged her, much lighter and quicker on his feet than she. She grabbed his arm, tugging him toward her, hands shaking. Heat pressed in on her and the sunburned skin under her palms was practically throwing off sparks. His eyes flashed. "Ron! Honestly! We're just friends!" "Has he said he loves you yet? Just tell me..." His expression hardened, like he was waiting for the worst. Hermione faltered and glanced at the papers. She took a deep breath, and let it spill into the scorching air. "Yes, he has." Ron's eyes closed briefly, and then they snapped open. The twine was snapped just as quickly and unbound Viktor's letters were claimed by the wind. A tornado of parchment swirled around them as Hermione gasped. They tumbled and twisted in the air, swirling like large, square snowflakes against the sky. They curled down the hill, tiny disappearing flecks against the parched yellows and greens of the grasses and fields. "How dare you! Those were MY letters, Ron!" she cried, tears welling in her eyes. Ron shrugged, his mouth a grim line. "So?" Hermione's hand suddenly flashed and Ron's head reeled backward under the collision of her palm on his cheek. "You bastard!" Tears escaped the corners of her eyes and she turned her back on him, reaching for the drifting, scattered sheaves of paper. She caught one in her fingertips and pulled it back toward her. She reached for another, but a wide, warm hand closed on her waist, turning her around in flurry of limbs and hair. There was a flash of red against her vision. The glare of the sun blinded her. Arms enclosed her, pulling her tight with a sweat-soaked, sun-drenched body. Her breath was stolen as she was pulled against him, and then shoved against the tree. Ron's hand was harsh in her hair, curling, pulling at the roots. Panic flooded her system. "Ron! Stop!" Hermione gasped. His eyes met hers, burning brown gaze, sunburned face so she knew so well and yet... "You're hurting me!" "You don't love him do you?" "What?" A tear formed at the corner of one eye. She felt it sting, felt the hard press of his hip against hers, the crackle of parched grass under her feet and dig of bark at her shoulder. His hands were on her hips as they were in his bedroom and they felt good there, familiar somehow. She arched against him despite herself and felt shame well at the movement. "KRUM! You don't love Krum!" Ron surged into her, his breath hot and angry on her cheek. A red print the size and shape of her hand had formed on his face, bleeding into the sunburned skin like a bloodstain. The paper she'd grabbed in her fist fluttered away and curled across the grass; she was beyond recalling it back. "What is wrong with you? Ron you're hurting me!" But Ron didn't seem to care. He didn't seem to hear anything as he pressed in close, filling her senses up with the sight of his wide eyes, the smell of his sweat, the sound of his heart pumping furiously in his chest. A muscle in his face twitched and then his eyes were suddenly on her lips and she knew what he was going to take without asking, without caring. Her head spun. Anticipation tore through the terror and anger, but even as Ron lowered his face, she thought for a moment that she heard someone scream. It bore through her head, a hammer and nails screeching sound that called her back to the burning world around her, making her snap her head away from Ron's in fright. It came again louder and she recognized it. Ron stepped back quickly and, as one, they turned in the direction of the sound, hearts racing, the last few minutes forgotten in an instant. It was Ginny. She was down at the pond screaming and something was terribly, terribly wrong. **** Ginny screamed as Harry was pulled under the surface of the water, his hand leaving hers with a sudden, rough jerk that nearly took her under with him. "HARRY! HARRY!" she screamed, bobbing on the water. Pain tore through her abdomen and the dirty, muddy water was tinged with red. "HELP! SOMEONE!" But she didn't know if anyone could hear her or not. She treaded water, gasping, and terror flooding her. Several seconds went by and Harry didn't resurface. Not hesitating another second, Ginny took a deep breath and dived back under the water, ignoring the pain from the claw marks on her stomach as she dived. The water was murky and dark and cold. She reached the bottom within a few strokes and looked around, silt stinging her eyes. The pond wasn't that large and the deepest part was even smaller--they had to be close. She suddenly saw movement from the corner of eye and she turned in the water, her hair billowing out in a red cloud. Bubbles of air escaped her mouth as she squinted. Then she saw them and gasped inwardly. The grindylow had Harry by the throat and was pulling him down into a hole in the bottom of the pond--its den. Harry was attempting to break the grindylow's grip, but he was doing so weakly, kicking up mud and silt in a blackish brown cloud around them. He was running out of air. Ginny's own lungs were bursting, but she didn't have time to go back to the surface for more. She propelled herself through the water and grabbed the grindylow's webbed fingers. It struggled and let go of Harry's neck. Blood spilled into the water, but Ginny couldn't see where it was coming from. Beside her, Harry was in trouble. His mouth was open and his eyes were rolling up in his head. Ginny's heart seized. He was drowning! Immediately she grabbed him under his arms and kicked upward. He seemed to weigh them both down and she wasn't getting anywhere. Her lungs were bursting and sparks were starting to dance across her burning vision. She needed air...she needed... They were sinking and she didn't have the strength to bring either of them to the surface. The world started going black. She felt the grindylow grip her ankle and tug her downward and she couldn't fight it... She was going to drown and so was Harry. **** Ron forgot the pain in his head, the images flashing across his vision and the twinge of pain in his arms as he ran flat out down the hill toward the green pond. He watched in horror, sweat running down his flanks, as Ginny stopped screaming and suddenly dived under the surface of the water. He was dimly aware of Hermione at his side and then falling back as his longer legs out-strode hers. Hermione--his head and heart ached for her, but he pushed her aside as he raced toward the green, frog-filled pond. It took him less than a minute to get down to it. He didn't even bother to kick off his shoes as he dived in, wading as quickly as he could to his knees before hitting the drop-off. He dived under and opened his eyes, scissoring his legs and moving quickly through the dirty green water. He came up on his sister and best friend almost immediately and reeled in horror as he saw a grindylow pulling them back down. Ginny had Harry under his arms and his head was lolling sickly. Ginny suddenly went limp and the grindylow, it's demonic green features twisted in a sharp grin, pulled them down into a weed-lined hole in the muddy bottom. So intent on it's newly caught dinner, it didn't notice Ron coming up from behind until he was already on it. Rearing back a fist, Ron did the only thing he could think to do--he hit it as hard as he could on the head. It jolted and let go of Harry and Ginny, who floated free and settled on the bottom in the mud. The grindylow turned on Ron and he punched it again. This time it reeled and shook it's scaly, horned head in confusion. Something bright pink suddenly materialized at his side and Ron was shocked to see Tonks, her wand pointed straight at the grindylow. There was a glistening bubble around her head. A jet of bubbles burst from the tip of her wand and hit the grindylow; red blisters appeared on its skin a second later and it retreated. Ron didn't stop to watch. He quickly swam over to Harry and Ginny's still bodies, caught both of them under their arms and kicked off the ground as hard as he could. He broke the surface and sucked in a lungful of air. Hermione was standing in the shallows, a look of horror on her face. As soon as she saw him she rushed forward in the water, wading up to her hips, but not going any further than that. Harry and Ginny were weighing him down and Ron felt pain lacing up his arms again from the scars. His muscles shook and he struggled to hold their heads above water. He was dimly aware of more people rushing down toward the pond as he bobbed on the water, sinking lower and lower. Someone jumped in and almost immediately Harry was pulled from his arms as Charlie appeared at his side. "Can you bring Ginny?" Charlie asked, wrapping one arm around Harry's middle and dragging him forward. Without Harry's weight pulling him down, Ron had no trouble holding Ginny. He nodded his head and dragged her along, sparing a glance at her. Her head lolled backward in the water, blood on her chin from a split lip. As soon as he hit the shallows, Fred and George, their faces white, took her from him. They pulled her up onto the muddy bank and placed her next to Harry. Ron gulped in air as Hermione rushed forward and gripped his arms in her hands, pulling him up out of the water, her eyes huge. Charlie was already working on Harry. He had his wand out and he said something that Ron didn't quite catch from all the mud in his ears. Harry gave a shudder and then suddenly coughed. Water came out of his mouth. His eyes fluttered open slightly. He coughed again and more water bubbled up from his throat. He took a deep breath and attempted to sit up. Ron noticed there was a large claw mark on his neck leading downward. Blood flowed over the collar of his shirt. "G-Ginny...where's..?" he stuttered weakly as Charlie pushed him down. Ron was dimly aware that Hermione was crying and tugging him toward Ginny. His mother and the twins were working on her and it took several seconds before Ginny turned over and vomited muddy water all over the grass. Her shoulders shook and she moaned weakly. "Oh thank Merlin!" his mother said, grabbed Ginny around the shoulders and pulling her hard against her. George grabbed her hands and tried to prise her off of Ginny. "What happened?" Ginny looked up, her wet red hair plastered to her face. "Grindylow. Grabbed me and Harry saved me--" Harry sat up on his elbows, ignoring Charlie's hand on his shoulder. He looked over at Ginny, his glasses askew. "No, Ginny saved me. It pulled me back under and she came back for me..." Ginny smiled weakly and reached for his hand. Ron made impatient noise in the back of his throat and threw up his hands. "I guess I didn't do a damned thing! Only saved both your necks!" he said rather testily, feeling his anger rising again. He fought it down, the sparks dancing across his vision. Harry took another deep breath and looked at Ron. "Thanks mate," he said, managing a tired smile. "Appreciate it." "No problem," Ron said, battling his anger. He glanced at Ginny, but she was vomiting up more muddy water. His mother held her hair back and patted her on the shoulder. "All three of you could have been killed!" she said, her eyes huge. "A grindylow in our pond! How did it get there?" "I dunno, Molly," Tonks said from behind Ron as she waded to the shore, her features stretched behind the bubble she'd created around her head. It vanished with a wave of her wand and she took a deep breath. "But it's dead now. Filthy little blighter." "Are you all right?" Charlie asked her, getting up and looking as if he wanted to go to her. She shook her head, tossing her pink hair from her eyes. "I'm fine. It was just a little grindylow," she said in an offhand manner. "How it got the best of you two, I'll never know..." She was eyeing Harry and Ginny, who were both sitting up now. Harry looked mutinous and embarrassed, one hand pressed to the bleeding claw mark on his neck. "Oh right! You try and take on a grindylow without magic!" he said, glancing at Ginny. "Not like either of us could conjure a Bubble-head Charm like you..." Tonks threw up her hands, backing up a step. "I was just joking, Harry. Calm down." Harry glared at her for a few moments, and then his features relaxed. He looked chagrined. "I know. Thanks Tonks." "Cheers, mate," Tonks said wearily, flipping her hair out of her face again. "Come on, let's get you two back up to the house," his mother said, still looking distressed. "A grindylow! Good heavens!" As everyone started back toward the Burrow, he noticed that Hermione was still clinging to him. He looked down at her and their gazes met. A flash of guilt went through him and another twinge went up from the thin scars crisscrossing his arms. She seemed to sense the flash of pain and the unease suddenly twisting in his mind because she let go, mouth open, brows drawn up in an expression of anxiety. Ron looked at her hard and then walked past her quickly, before he made yet another mistake. His brain remained uneasy. **** "I don't know what's going on, Ginny," Hermione said in a tight whisper as she sat down on the edge of Ginny's bed. Ginny, who was crawling into clean, dry clothing, turning back around to face Hermione, wet hair trailing like a red waterfall down her white back. Her exposed stomach had bandages across it where the grindylow had clawed her and her split lip was tender and a raw red. "I do," Ginny said. "All men are stupid animals." Hermione made an impatient noise in the back of her throat. "I already knew that, Ginny. What I want to know is WHY. Why is Ron acting like that?" "Why is Harry acting like that, too?" Ginny muttered under her breath, though Hermione caught it. A bit louder, she said, "It's all hormones and being sixteen, Hermione. They're prats. It's what they do." "Harry--yes. And by the way, I'm glad you told him off. I didn't get a chance to tell you so before the grindylow attack. What did you say to him?" Hermione asked, leaning forward on the bed. Ginny pulled a clean t-shirt over her head and her face popped out of the neck hole a second later, her cheeks growing bright pink. "I told him we were all tired of him acting like he does." "But you told him we understood WHY, right?" "Well...sort of. It's all a bit muddled in my head, actually. I was shouting so much I don't know exactly what I said to him. But I got through," she said. "And...and..." "And at the pond? I saw you two out there before the grindylow attacked you," Hermione said carefully, though she knew Ginny could read the expression on her face. Ginny colored again. "Nothing happened, if that's what you're getting at. We're only friends, Hermione. Friends who don't get on so well," Ginny said with a sigh. "But he apologized for being so rude." Hermione nodded. "That's good. At least one of the men in my life is capable of apologizing." Ginny looked sharply at Hermione. She sat down with a plunk, the bedsprings squeaking as she did so. "Speak. What did my brother do?" Hermione opened her mouth to tell her exactly what had happened in Ron's bedroom and down at the tree, but there was suddenly a knock at the door. Ginny cursed beneath her breath. "Who is it?" "Ron! Is...is Hermione in there?" Ginny looked sharply at Hermione, who nodded in assent. "Yes she is! What do you want?" The door opened without further ado and Hermione's breath caught in her throat at the sight of Ron standing there, sunburned, his hair wet once more. His burning gaze slid over her and she fisted her hands in Ginny's duvet, her heart twisting up painfully. "I need to talk to you..." Ron said, his gaze never leaving hers. She noticed he had his hands behind his back, the faintest glimpse of his scars showing beneath the sleeves of his damp t-shirt. Obviously he hadn't changed yet. "Ginny get out." "Hey!" Ginny bristled, sitting up straight on her bed. "It's my room!" "Please?" Ron wheedled. Ginny glanced at Hermione and saw the breathless look on her face. "Fine," Ginny said, standing up quickly. "I'll be outside." "You do that," Ron said vaguely as Ginny moved past him, closing the door behind her. The sound of it hitting the jam was strangely loud. Hermione winced at the sound and looked up at Ron, the ghost of his hands in her hair and on her waist...on everything she could call hers. "What is it, Ron?" she found herself asking, her lips pressed together in a thin line. "I...I..." He stammered and then suddenly drew his arms in front of him. Hermione could see his hands were full of paper--Viktor's letters. Some of them were wrinkled and ripped and had bits of dirt on them, but they were all in tact. Her mouth opened and she looked from the papers up to Ron's red face. "How...?" He shrugged and thrust the papers toward her. "Charlie helped me--I think we found them all. Some of them are dirty. Sorry." "Ron--" "I didn't read any of them, if that's what you're thinking!" he said quickly as she took the stack from him and set them aside on Ginny's bed. "I didn't. Think that, that is," Hermione said numbly, looking back at him. "Thank you. I really appreciate it." "I'm glad," Ron said stiffly, carefully avoiding her eye. He was red with embarrassment and sun. "Look...about earlier--" "Ron you don't have to--" "No, I want to, Hermione," Ron said, sitting down next to her. His wrist brushed hers and she could feel that his skin was hot and dry. She fought the urge to wrap her small, neat fingers around it and draw it into her lap. Ron looked down at his knees. "I shouldn't have touched you." Hermione found her voice after a moment, heart palpitating. "It's...it's fine, Ron." "No it's not. Hermione something is wrong with me." "What is?" "My head. Everything in my head is wrong and I can't stop it. Feelings and thoughts just wells up inside of me out of nowhere and I...I can't get them to go away. I see things all the time and I'm angry when I know I should be happy or laughing. And sometimes when I look at you..." He cut himself off suddenly, looking sharply at her, his brown eyes soft. She remembered the burn in his gaze in his bedroom and at the tree and how she'd felt fear then. "When you look at me, what?" Hermione asked softly, though she wasn't sure she wanted the answer. Ron's gaze flickered down to her lips. "Sometimes I'm so angry at you. I don't know why. It only seems to happen with you and there's no reason for it. That stupid brain did something to me..." "That'll go away though. Madam Pomfrey said it would," Hermione said, brushing his wrist again. His fingers twitched, like he wanted to touch her hand. She bit down on her lip. "It's taking a long while. The scars are healing, but the thoughts...sometimes I don't know if it's me or it," Ron admitted heavily, guilt like electricity in the air. Ron looked away, toward Ginny's window where the afternoon was dwindling away. The sash was thrown up and a good breeze was blowing in. Hermione smelled ozone, but she ignored it for Ron's profile. Ron's voice was soft and hesitant for a moment. "The point is, if Harry and Ginny hadn't been in trouble, I would have done something really stupid today. I'm sorry." "It's a good thing they needed rescuing then. It's a good thing you were outside," Hermione said with a slightly, guilty smile. "If you hadn't been out there, who knows what might have happened?" Ron sighed and looked at her wearily. "I'm sure you would have used your big brain to help them before Tonks showed up." "I doubt that," Hermione said stiffly. "I can't swim, Ron." Ron had a look of surprise on his face. His mouth opened slightly. "Are you serious?" "Deadly," she admitted with a sigh. "I'd wondered why you only waded in..." Ron trailed off, a small smile coming to his lips. "Huh...so it is possible." Hermione looked at him in confusion. "What's possible?" Ron grinned at her. "There's actually something Hermione Granger isn't good at!" "Oh shut up!" Hermione said crossly, though she was inwardly thrilled that he thought she was good at everything. He called her a know-it-all all of the time, but that didn't mean he meant it. "I'm sure I'm horrid at other things too..." "Like?" "Like resisting the urge to tell you off, Ronald Weasley!" Hermione said acidly, though her mouth was curving into a grin to match his. She bumped his arm and his grin immediately went away, a grimace of pain sliding down his features like a mask. "Oh! Ron I'm sorry!" Ron shook his head, tossing his damp hair over his forehead. He licked his lips and then turned his gaze back to Ginny's window. His profile was tortured and Hermione felt another sliver of fear go through her. "Do you think I'm a horrible person?" Ron suddenly asked. Stunned by the question, which had sounded so genuine and heart broken, Hermione grabbed his hand. Ron turned his gaze away from the window and looked down at their linked fingers and then up at her. "No," Hermione said sincerely. "No you're not a horrible person. Why would you think that?" "How can you look at me after...after what I did to you today and tell me that?" Ron's eyes were huge as he stared at her. She couldn't look away. "Because I know that's not you, Ron," she said honestly. "You never hurt anyone on purpose." "I wanted to hurt you today," he said softly, his voice low. "When you...you told me about Vicky--Viktor." "Is that why you threw his letters? To hurt me?" "Partly," he said, his brown eyes filled with apology. "And then I tried to...I mean I wanted to..." "Wanted to what, Ron?" Hermione prompted, leaning forward. Her heart was drumming in her chest. Ron took a deep breath, as if summoning all of his courage. "I wanted to kiss you," he got out in a rush. All the breath left Hermione's lungs. Ron looked at her hard, brows drawn up in anxiety, lower lips chewed between his teeth. "I would have...but Harry and Ginny...well you know." She'd known what had planned to do to down at the tree when his gaze was on her mouth and his body was pressed to hers, his hands in her hair. And she remembered the anticipation, the want, the tilt of her chin the second before the screaming had started. "Was it...did you want to because of your scars?" she asked tremulously. "Because of what was going on in your head?" Ron stared hard at her. "I'm not sure. I don't...I don't think it was just my scars though." "Why do you think that?" Hermione asked breathlessly. "Because they're not acting up now and I want to kiss you again," Ron said, his gaze on her lips. "Oh," Hermione breathed, head spinning. "Ron...Ron...I..." "It's okay. Viktor...I know that you lo--" Ron stammered again, his gaze going closed, anger bubbling up in him again. It was his own anger though and she could tell it. Recklessly, breathlessly, she cut him off, "I don't love him." "What?" Ron asked softly. "Viktor...I don't love him," she said in a lightheaded rush, squeezing his hand. In the split second after she said the words, Ron leaned in toward her and she tilted her head to meet him. Their mouths connected with a jolt like heat lightning, noses bumping slightly. His mouth was dry and hot, but soft against her lips. She could feel the hard line of his teeth beneath as she pressed in, his lower lip between her lips. He pulled back and then pressed in again, angling his head differently. She was numb. She didn't know if she was supposed to be happy that she was finally kissing him or scared. Scared of him and what he could do to her with a moment's notice. She knew he was holding on by a thin thread, his anger bubbling beneath the surface. He could change in an instant and hurt her like he had at the tree. A thrill went through her and she lifted her free hand to his damp hair, threading her fingers in the soft, tangled red strands. Hermione suddenly realized she didn't care. And she kissed him that much harder as thunder erupted outside the window. **** "What are you doing out here?" Ginny asked as she looked upward. Harry half-turned in place and stared at her from his perch on the Weasley's garden wall. His feet dangled over the other side, where the pond glittered in its green, scummy glory. Frogs were croaking across the still, hot air and a breeze, still hot but refreshing was blowing in. Upon seeing her, a ghost of a smile flitted over Harry's face. She could see he had a bandage, care of her mother, on his neck from the claw mark the grindylow had left on him. It was starkly white against his skin. "Hey," Harry said, his gaze crawling over her. He turned his head to look back at the pond and she approached the garden wall, which was easily five feet tall and made of pitted old stone. "Just waiting for Ron to finish up. I think he had a fight with Hermione or something." "Well there's something new," Ginny snorted rather unladylike. "They're up in my room talking or snogging--I'm not quite sure and personally I don't want to know." Harry's expression was one of extreme embarrassment. "So...um...the view is nice." "I bet it's pretty," she said with a twist of her lips. "Need a hand up?" Harry offered, glancing at her swiftly, but she waved him off and then swiftly vaulted up onto the wall so quickly he looked surprised. She smiled at his expression as she swung one leg over the wall so that she was straddling it. The rough stone dug into the bare skin of her legs, but she ignored it. "I've been climbing this wall since I was six," she offered up in explanation. "Should have known," Harry said softly, turning back to look at the pond again. She followed his gaze and blinked away the dazzle spots on her vision from the sun shining on the water. It did look inviting, even though she knew it was full of muddy water and heedles...and evidently a grindylow. "You know, I never realized how deep the pond was," she said, trying to fill the air with some conversation. It had been a strange day for the both of them. Kippers for breakfast, a game of a Quidditch, a shouting match for all the ages and then they'd saved each other's lives. It seemed like a lot to get done before six in the evening. "I certainly didn't think a grindylow could live in it." "No one did," Harry murmured, his green gaze flicking to the corners of his eyes and at her. She looked at him hard and he immediately stopped, turning his head to the left, where the countryside spread out, rolling hills and fields of yellow wheat. The spire of the church in Ottery St. Catchpole was just visible from the garden wall and she examined the pointed structure for a moment before she looked upward at the sky. She was surprised to see dark storm clouds gathering like dingy puffs of cotton in the sky, crowding the blindingly blue sky as they rolled in. The smell of ozone was in the air, stark and metallic. "It's going to storm," Harry said. "Maybe that'll cool everything off." "Yeah," she said noncommittally. "Maybe." Harry turned back to look at her. "Listen, Ginny..." "Don't, Harry." "Don't what?" "I can see what you're going to say in your eyes and I'm not in the mood," Ginny said with a gentle smile. "You're sorry for being a prick earlier. You're sorry we both nearly drowned...you're sorry that it's so hot outside and that I'm sweaty and that the garden wall is hurting my arse and all that good stuff. I just don't want to hear it." Harry seemed to be fighting a smile as he stared at her. "How do you know that's what I was going to say?" "You're always sorry, Harry and like I said...it was in your eyes." "It is not." "What were you going to say then?" "I..." Harry snapped his mouth closed and then a chagrined smile crossed his lips. "Okay, so I was going to apologize, but I really need to say this." "Go on," Ginny said, gloating in a silent way. "I'm sorry about the way I've been acting since I got here. I've been rude to everyone and I don't mean to be half the time. I'm especially rude to you a lot and I don't know why," Harry said seriously. "I do," Ginny said and continued before he could ask her why. "I'm the only one who tells you off for it. I'm fun to fight with because I fight back. Is that why?" "I think you're right," Harry admitted. "Forgive me?" "I already have, Harry," Ginny said with a shrug. "I'm sorry for what I said earlier at the game. I didn't mean it." "You were right though--everyone does act like that and I am a prat," Harry said heavily. A ghost of a smile crossed Ginny's lips. "Not that. I meant that part. What I didn't mean was...I'm not sick of you. You drive me crazy, but I like having you around. You make life interesting." A peculiar look came to Harry's eyes and she couldn't decipher it. "I'm glad you...I...umm...thanks." Amused at his stammering, Ginny declined to comment. They sat in silence for a moment before she eyed the bandage on his neck. "How is it?" "Not bad. How are yours?" He looked down at her stomach and then looked up quickly. Ginny shrugged and lifted the edge of her t-shirt, showing the three bandages taped to her stomach in diagonal slashes with ease. Harry looked, his ears going red. She grinned and lowered her shirt, though the cooler air swirling over her stomach was a relief. "As you can see, they're fine. The stuff Mum put on them will seal them up in a day," Ginny said off-hand. "Bet we won't even scar." "That's good. One is enough," Harry said wryly. Ginny grinned. The sky suddenly gave an ominous rumble and lightning flashed brightly in the still sunlit sky. She could feel static running roughshod through the air, making her hair stand on end. Wind gusted in, rocking her on her perch upon the garden wall. Harry glanced worriedly at the sky. "I love thunderstorms," Ginny said, tilting her face toward the sky and closing her eyes. "I do too," Harry said in a strangled voice. She opened her eyes and noticed he was looking at her with a peculiar expression on his face that she couldn't read, though she thought she recognized it. "I thought I was the only one." "Oh no," she said slyly. "I'm a thunderstorm lover from way back." "Somehow that doesn't surprise me about you," Harry said softly, his words almost lost in another rumble and the flash of lightning that ripped the sky. "What does surprise you?" "You'd be surprised," he answered, chewing on his lower lip. "What does that mean?" she asked, noting the look in his eyes, the look she didn't recognize. He was completely unreadable to her at that moment and she didn't like it. Before he could answer though, the sky suddenly opened up, the summer storm that had rolled in so quickly breaking in an instant. Rain pounded down, soaking her for the second time that day. She gave a high-pitched squeal as she and Harry scrambled off the garden wall. Harry jumped down before her, hitting the ground and turning to hold out his hands to her. She swung her left leg over and went to jump down when another blast of thunder erupted through the sky, making her jump down in fear. She jumped straight at Harry and nearly brought him down to the ground as her feet hit the earth, which was rapidly sucking up the moisture like a thirsty man in the desert. She steadied Harry to keep him from falling backward and his hands were suddenly on her waist, drawing her against him. Thunder and lightning crackled the sky in half as she looked up into Harry's eyes. He was staring at her intensely through his rain-speckled glasses, his mouth open, water dripping down his nose. Slowly a smile stretched across his features and he slid his hands off her hips and took one of her hands. "Come on! We're getting drenched--again!" he said over the storm and he pulled her after him toward the Burrow. As Ginny ran through the unkempt garden with Harry, gnomes running in all directions and screeching about the rain, she smiled. The look in his eyes, the one she thought she'd recognized earlier--she knew exactly what it meant now and she marveled at how quickly things had changed. Harry pulled her through the kitchen door and into the house and for one moment she was trapped against his chest, her hand in his hand. It was like they were dancing. She looked up and caught his gaze again. Harry smiled and then let her go. She knew though, with the certainty and anticipation like the space between lightning and thunder, that whatever happened, he wouldn't let her go for long. (end) **** |
| Reviews 37 |
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