This was written for the HP/GW Fic-A-Fest on livejournal. Thanks to Lady G. for organizing the fest, and to LuminousMarble and Fearthainn for beta-reading.
On the third floor, near the entrance to Ravenclaw House, is a tapestry of a maiden with a unicorn. It is night, and the girl in the tapestry is asleep, but she wakes up when Ginny approaches.
"Good evening, Eleanor," says Ginny formally, politely. It is always best to be polite with the portraits. "May I enter, please?" She speaks quietly, aware that it is now hours past curfew and a professor could be anywhere.
The woven face scrutinizes her, and Ginny blushes a little, knowing that she will admit only virgins. After a moment, she nods, and Ginny pulls aside the tapestry and opens the door that has appeared behind it, stepping through and dropping the tapestry back into place.
Before she closes the door, she hears footsteps on the stone floor of the hallway. The door slides into place with a tiny click, and Ginny smiles to herself.
"Lumos," she whispers, and the tip of her wand glows with light, illuminating the dusty passage. Ginny wonders if she is the only girl at Hogwarts that knows about the door behind the tapestry, or just the only girl who knows and can still get through it.
Around three corners and past two other passageways, there is a narrow staircase spiraling upwards. The dust is gone from the passageway by this point, but the corners are grimy, and she knows that the stairway is used from time to time by other people, although she doesn’t know who, or where the other entrances are. Ginny starts to climb, hitching up her robes with one hand so she doesn’t step on them.
The stairs are smooth and gray, worn down by use over the centuries. On the left side, they narrow to nothing, and on the right side, they are barely wide enough to walk on. In the middle, each stair bows down in a smooth depression, as if they were sinking under their own weight. There is no banister or handhold of any kind, and she trails her hand along the wall as she walks, knowing it wouldn’t help her if she tripped but doing it anyway, out of habit.
She is looking down at the steps, wondering how many generations of Weasleys have walked here, and so she doesn't see him at first. She is still looking down, in fact, when she sees a pair of scuffed trainers on the stair in front of her and manages to stop just short of stepping on him.
"Couldn’t sleep?" he asks, and she can see that he has dark circles underneath his eyes.
"Don’t want to, really," she replies. If she sleeps, she'll dream.
He smiles weakly, but does not answer. Eventually he breaks eye contact, looking down at his shoes.
She climbs the remaining steps and sits gingerly next to him. He scoots over so that he is against the wall, and she sits so close that their thighs press together, because the stair is narrow and getting narrower on the other side.
They sit there for a while, staring down the staircase and saying nothing.
Ginny's hands rest in her lap, holding her wand. When she senses movement next to her, she glances down and watches Harry's hand move slowly across to clasp hers. Harry's hand is warm and sweaty, but it feels good against hers anyway. He traces the calluses on her palm lightly, and she squeezes her fingers around his and smiles.
She has just laid her head on Harry's shoulder when the door above them swings open and strikes the stone wall of the stairwell with a loud crack. Before they have time to think or react, there is an enormous imposing figure swooping down on them. Professor Snape is always somewhat intimidating, but Harry and Ginny are sitting on the floor in the dark, and he is standing several steps above them, framed by the light through the door. To Ginny, he looks like something out of a Muggle horror film, and she is almost surprised when he simply gives them detention and hauls them off to Gryffindor Tower. She was expecting, perhaps, a chainsaw.
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The door is open and so Ginny walks into the classroom and perches on a chair in the front row.
"Hello, Professor," she says, and he nods slightly at her. He is frosty to her, but then he is always that way.
When Harry enters the room, the Professor sneers at him. "Nice of you to join us, Potter," he says, although he is not really late.
Snape sneers some more and sets them both to cleaning cauldrons before sweeping out of the room in a cloud of black robes.
She steps back and looks at the rows of cauldrons with her hands on her hips. There are rows upon rows of them, made of black cast iron that absorbs light rather than reflecting it. Beneath the rim and in the curves of the bowl and dripping down the side of each and every one is the remnants of the second years' lesson on strengthening solutions. It seems to Ginny that the lesson did not go well.
Harry sighs and rolls up his sleeves, and the muscles in his forearms flex beneath the skin. Ginny looks away, so she doesn’t notice that he is completely at a loss until he says something.
"Erm."
He is peering into the nearest cauldron, picking at the purplish-grayish gunk on the side with one finger.
"What are we s'posed to do this with?" he asks. "Our robes?"
"I was planning to use my wand," she replies. "But you do what you want."
"What I want," he says disbelievingly. "I can never do what I want. This isn't about me."
"Well, you should," she says. She speaks firmly and confidently even though she's not really sure what they’re talking about anymore.
He looks at her for a long moment out of the corner of his eye and then picks up his wand.
"I think I'll stick to cleaning cauldrons for now, thanks," he says, breaking eye contact.
Ginny sighs and turns to the nearest cauldron. "Effervesco." Tiny soap bubbles shoot out of her wand, and with a flick of her wrist, begin scrubbing at the crusty rim of the cauldron.
She listens, but does not hear him utter a spell. When she turns and looks at him, he is just standing there staring at her.
"Yes, Mister Potter," she says haughtily, in a credible imitation of Snape. "Are the directions in some way … unclear?"
Harry blushes and then laughs. "No, I mean — I don’t know that spell. Can you, erm — can you show it to me?"
She takes his hand to demonstrate the proper wand movement, and then suddenly she is holding his hand. It feels warm, and comfortable and so natural that it takes Ginny’s breath away and she is left gasping for air.
Harry's face is so close to hers, and in his eyes she sees a warmth she had never dared to look for there. He moves closer, and she knows what is about to happen.
When it happens, it is a chaste and gentle kiss, just a dry brush of lips really. Harry starts to step away, but Ginny follows him, reaching up and grabbing hold of his robes, pulling him to her, opening her lips and tipping her head back and kissing him for all she is worth, not thinking but just wanting more.
Harry seems shocked, and he stumbles back against the table behind him, pulling her along with him. They tumble onto the table, knocking over a stool in the process, which makes rather a lot of noise.
Professor Snape bursts into the room a moment later, but by that time, Ginny is well away from Harry, and they are both concentrating on the cauldrons in front of them.
She hears a disdainful sniff from the professor, and a swish of robes, and then the door shuts again. When she sneaks a look at Harry, his face is bright red, and he is looking down at the desk in front of him.
There is silence in the classroom for a long time, except for the quiet scrubbing of the magical suds, and the occasional whispered spell. Finally, Harry speaks.
"Ginny?"
"Hmmm?"
"Ah, nothing. Nevermind."
Ginny shrugs and goes back to cleaning cauldrons. With the mess the second years made, she knows they have plenty of time tonight for Harry to get to the point.
They work in comfortable silence for a while. The thick stone walls of the dungeon muffle and absorb the small sounds they make, and there are no windows to let in the noises of the students above or the wind outside. For Ginny, who has always lived in a house full of noisy boys, it is a peaceful respite.
By the time she gets near the end of her row of cauldrons, she is beginning to wonder if she has misjudged him. Maybe he won't say anything. Maybe she is wrong, and he doesn’t even have anything to say. Maybe she has embarrassed herself horribly and he will tell her brother how she mauled him in the dungeon.
Ginny grits her teeth and waits. She has been perfectly clear. There is no more that she can do. If he wants to say something to her, he will. If not, well… She tells herself that she doesn't want a bloke who won't speak for himself, anyway.
It’s not true. She just wants Harry, and she knows it.
Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she sneaks a glance at him and sees him look away guiltily.
"So… ah," he says hesitantly, and she smiles down at the table before turning to him seriously.
"What was that, Harry? I didn’t quite hear you."
"Oh, I just wanted to ask if you–" He swallows audibly. "If you think Hufflepuff will beat Ravenclaw next week."
Ginny wonders if she can hex him into saying what he means. Then again, if grabbing him and kissing him didn't work, the direct approach is probably out.
"Oh, I don't know," she says, as if giving the matter serious thought. "Hufflepuff's a good enough team, on parchment, but they're awfully hesitant."
"Awfully–"
"Hesitant," Ginny confirms. "They ought to just grit their teeth and go for the snitch."
"You think so?" Harry asks, looking a little pale behind his glasses.
"Yeah, definitely." She nods solemnly. "Just last term, their seeker could have had the snitch three times over if he'd only gone for it." She licks her lips and twirls a strand of hair around her finger, as though absent-minded. "It's too bad, too. He could have been celebrating all this time."
"He could have got put in the hospital wing, too," Harry says darkly.
Ginny scoffs. "Ravenclaw's defense is rubbish, you know as well as I do." She walks slowly toward him as she talks, watching him intently. "Those guys are big, but they're all talk. They'd never follow through with their threats."
He looks up, surprised, and meets her eyes.
"You don't think so?"
"Never," she says. "Those beaters are big softies, and that keeper… All talk."
"I'm sure, erm… I’m sure that, um, Hufflepuff doesn’t want to lose the match," Harry replies, keeping his eyes locked on hers. He begins to trace the skin on the back of her hand gently with his index finger. "Do you think they could still win, or…"
"Oh, absolutely," she nods firmly. "I'm pulling for them, really."
"Yeah?"
She smiles at him. "Really. I think they can be decisive when they have to be."
Harry draws a deep breath and licks his lips and just when she thinks he is about to finally lean in and kiss her, firmly and with intent, and she is holding her breath in anticipation–
The door slams open, Snape sweeps malevolently into the room, Harry leaps backward, and the moment is lost.
Snape watches down his hooked nose as they clean the remaining cauldrons in silence, and lets them go when they’re finished.
Ginny follows Harry out of classroom into the hall, and turns to shut the door behind them. When she turns around again, he is watching her with a strange, new look in his eyes.
As soon as they turn the corner and are out of sight of Snape’s classroom, Harry stops walking. She looks up at him questioningly, and before she can speak a word, he is kissing her.
He kisses her, this time, with his fingers buried in her hair and his glasses bumping into her cheeks. He kisses her until she is pressed up against the wall and he is the only thing holding her up, until she can no longer breathe, until she has forgotten all about curfew and detention and scrubbing cauldrons.
When he stops, she leans against the wall for a moment, recovering. She touches her hand to her lips, which feel warm to the touch, and she smiles a little.
"Wow," she says softly, and he chuckles in response.
"So you'll go with me to Hogsmeade, then?"
She pretends to consider the question, and Harry kisses her just below her ear, sending shivers down her back, and making it impossible to say no.
"Mmmm," she says. "Yes."
"And other places too?"
"Other–" she gasps as he kisses her there again, and tilts her head to give him better access. "–places?"
"I want you to be my girlfriend, Ginny."
She can hear footsteps sounding down the hall, sharp and clear, but there are more important things to worry about now.
"Yes," she says again, answering the question that he did not ask.
He claims her lips again, pulling her to him and wrapping her in his arms for a moment before Professor Snape arrives to sneer at them and give them detention again.
Ginny does not mind. If this is what comes of detention, she will never complain about it again.
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