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We Had to Start Somewhere | ||||||
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Category: Post-OotP Characters:Draco Malfoy, Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Minerva McGonagall, Remus Lupin, Ron Weasley Genres: Comedy, Drama, Fluff, General, Humor Warnings: Death Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 314 Summary: Some believe in love at first sight, but for Harry and Ginny first sight happened years ago and they're far from enamored. It seems they will have to settle for the gradual kind, the kind that drives us all mad but makes sense - in the end. Hitcount: Story Total: 84357; Chapter Total: 5820 |
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Part Eleven He was cutting it dangerously close to curfew, but Harry couldn’t bring himself to care; he’d never seen Ginny that upset, not even when she was in the middle of raging at her mum, and there was no way he could let her alone. For once, Ginny had actually looked fragile — strong, independent Ginny was what he was used to and anything else was just inherently wrong. If Harry had to search all night, he would find her. It wasn’t until he was halfway down the corridor from the Gryffindor Tower that Harry realized he’d forgotten both his mirror and the Marauder’s Map. It would have been easier to find Ginny if he’d had either, but the idea of confronting Dean again so soon had him venturing out alone. Seething, Harry could only imagine what it would be like to give the other boy a good kick in the arse. What was he thinking? Why in the world would he break up with Ginny? Was he insane? And why was part of Harry glad about all of this? Shaking away the notion, Harry set himself on searching for his friend, who seemed to have disappeared completely. Any other time, he would have been amazed at her quickness and ability hide so well, but at the moment it was only adding to his frustrations. After running up the Astronomy Tower - stopping by the Room of Requirement on the way — Harry tried the library and the Great Hall. He was just beginning to regret not asking one of the Gryffindor girls to check in Ginny’s dorm — it’d be a huge joke on him, really, for her to have been there the entire time — when inspiration hit. Hoping he was right, Harry strode quickly down the corridors to the classroom he and Ginny used to practice in. The door was closed and locked and Harry struggled between relief that he’d found her and annoyance that she’d been alert enough to use a very good locking charm. It took him several tries before the door clicked open and it was when his hand was on the doorknob that Harry faltered. He was thinking too much of himself, Harry thought wildly, by assuming she would need him for anything. If she’d wanted to talk, Ginny would have stayed, she would have waited for him. The smart thing to do would be to leave. Harry straightened his shoulders and purposefully set those thoughts aside instead. This time, it was better to face the Weasley stubbornness head-on and nurse the wounds afterwards. Finally pushing the door open, Harry carefully looked inside the brightly lit room. There was no way he could miss Ginny’s bright red hair and he slowly walked towards her. Though he made no attempt to mask his footsteps, she didn’t move from her position: legs folded up, her cheek resting on her knees so that her hair felt over her arms to the floor. When he was only a few steps away, Ginny finally pushed back her hair and gave him a wary glance. “It’s kind of a bad time.” Harry shuffled his feet and replied, “I kind of got the idea, but…” Ginny looked at him pleadingly. “This isn’t something for you to make all better, Harry.” “What did he do?” Harry asked, giving her a hard look. “Nothing,” Ginny sighed. “Absolutely nothing.” “Then why do you look like you’re about to cry?” “Because sometimes life hands you a pile of shite and you just have to deal with it,” Ginny snapped. Immediately, she cringed and shook her head. “I’m sorry, that was-” “Is this what you’re going to do, Ginny?” Harry drew closer to her. “Run away when it goes bad? That’s not like you.” She looked downwards, “Maybe it’s exactly like me. You just haven’t seen it yet.” “Well, I don’t like it,” Harry replied with a fake measure of the bravery that he was lacking at this point. Ginny stood and wrapped her arms around her upper body. “I don’t want to argue, Harry. Not this time.” Deflating from his guarded stance, Harry stepped closer to her. “Me either.” She began to roam the room, never meeting his eyes and slowing rubbing at her arms. Thoughtful consideration on her face, she gently said, “Remember that time on the steps, Harry? At the Burrow?” Puzzled, Harry asked, “Yeah?” “We decided after that, you and I, that we would stick to the lighter side,” Ginny mused, a wistful smile on her face now. “I think we succeeded most dangerously.” When Harry could only look at her with trepidation, she explained, “You were right, Harry, about so many things. I did make it this way, you and I. We-we didn’t want to face it so we decided to ignore it. And now we can’t ignore it anymore. I can’t ignore it anymore.” Her tone was making him even more nervous and Harry began, “Ginny-” Shaking away his response, Ginny continued. “I should have told Dean a lot more than what I did. You were right about that, too. It ended up doing us in completely. “Well,” she laughed hollowly, “that among other things.” Looking even closer to tears, Ginny took several breaths and moved her face from his. Harry took the opportunity to stride straight up to her. Surprised to find him at her side, Ginny grimaced from her inward struggle as if to prove that her strength wasn’t slipping away from second to second. “I’ve messed everything up,” she whispered. “I’ve gone and ruined it all.” “No, you haven’t,” Harry assured her, setting his hands on her arms. “Yes, I have,” Ginny insisted softly. “No,” Harry insisted, pulling her into a hug and tucking her head under his chin, “you haven’t.” Her shoulders began to shake and Ginny let out a sob, almost miniscule in its existence. It tore Harry’s heart to hear and feel it, remembering with unfortunate clarity of the last time he’d seen her cry — in the Chamber of Secrets. “It’s going to be okay,” he said softly, idly rubbing at her back. “Ron and I can muck him up, no problem. I’ll just pretend he’s Malfoy and he’ll be toast.” Ginny scoffed and he could have sworn he heard her say, “You don’t understand.” Not answering her in case he’d imagined it, Harry stood still for a long time, letting Ginny slowly collect herself together. Though his mind attempted to wander, he squashed it almost immediately, knowing it would make nothing better if he said anything to confuse her further. And while Ginny’s arms remained firmly at her own sides, he kept holding on to her, wishing he knew how to make it better even when he knew he couldn’t. Several minutes passed before he could feel her begin to rouse and finally relax; she dropped her cheek against his chest and breathed in and out slowly before stepping away from him. Eyes dry, she said, “Thanks.” “No problem,” Harry replied. A strand of her hair had fallen into her eyes and he pushed it away, tucking it behind her hear. Ginny shivered slightly and he asked, worried, “Are you cold?” She shut her eyes tightly and shook her head again, “No.” Before he could say anything else, Ginny moved back towards him, enveloping him in a tight hug. Surprised at first, he had to recover before he returned the embrace. “What’s this?” Harry asked, bewildered. “You’re too good to me. Why are you so good to me?” Ginny answered, but sounded more like she was talking to herself. “What, am I supposed to toss you out with yesterday’s Prophet?” Harry lifted a hand and slightly disheveled her hair. “You’re stuck with me, Weasley.” Pulling away again, Ginny gave him a half-smile. “I was afraid of that.” Harry tried smiling back, but it fell quickly. “You’ll be okay, right?” “I hope so,” Ginny said. “The offer still stands,” Harry said, referring to hexing the living daylights out of Dean. “I’m sure Ron would be happy to join in. Maybe Hermione, too.” “No, he doesn’t deserve it, he never did,” Ginny said sadly. “Believe me, it’s for the best even though it hurts.” Harry frowned, “I don’t want you to hurt.” With a tight smile, she replied, “You can’t fix everything, no matter what you think.” “And here I thought I could,” Harry retorted with a crooked grin. Ginny touched his arm. “You get points for trying.” Standing there, connected by the lightest touch of her hand, Harry began to feel as if the danger Ginny had alluded to was rearing its head at him. Suddenly anxious for no reason he could explain, he stepped backwards and scratched his head. “So, um, you and Dean-” “It’s over,” Ginny muttered, looking uncomfortable, as well. Barely glancing at him, she added, “Please don’t ask me anymore. Not right now.” “Okay,” Harry said quietly. Sighing softly, Ginny said, “I do need to tell you how sorry I am. About the other night, I mean.” Harry ducked his head, “I’m the one who-” Ginny stopped him again. “We both said a lot of things that I think neither of us meant. Or maybe we did mean it, but we’re allowed to say it since… since we’re us. Am I right?” When Harry nodded, she continued. “You — you’re one of my best friends, Harry. I don’t know how it happened, but it did. Sometimes friends fight, but I can’t ever regret that you mean so much to me. And I can’t bear the thought of losing you, either.” He wanted to tell her how much she meant to him, but Harry knew that they’d already hit that part and relatively emotionally at that. Add to that the fact that he was still going back and forth over his true feelings for her, it was best to not even touch it. Instead, he slowly said, “I’m sorry I lied to you about the prophecy.” At her confused expression, he clarified, “That night, in the pasture, I could have said something-” “You had enough to deal with,” Ginny protested. “-and I’m sorry I hurt you,” Harry finished. “You didn’t hurt me,” Ginny replied in a quiet tone. “I did,” Harry corrected her. “And that’s the last thing I want to do because… because you’re one of my best friends, too.” Their gazes met and held for several seconds and Harry felt warmth unfurling in his chest. There. The cards were laid out on the table and Ginny wasn’t running away this time. She was still with him and it was fortifying beyond measure, more than he would have ever thought possible. There were still many things left to say, but he didn’t want to ruin the moment where they were finally all right again. Ginny seemed to know that, too, and didn’t ask anything more about the prophecy. Ginny rubbed idly at her shoulders again, “If you ever need to talk about it, even now, I’m here, okay? I’ll be here.” Harry nodded and shoved his hands in his pockets for lack of anything better to do. “I think I want to leave it alone for tonight.” At Ginny’s hesitant agreement, he offered, “Let’s do something else. We can raid the kitchens, try sneaking into Hogsmeade-” She laughed lightly, “How in the world could we sneak into Hogsmeade?” Harry looked back at her, amazed, “Are you sure you’re related to the twins?” He shook his head. “Never mind, I’m sure there are wards everywhere now. We could try going for a fly, practice dueling…” He trailed off, waiting for her to agree to anything or come up with something new, but instead Ginny stared at nothing for a long time and didn’t reply. Timidly, he asked, “Ginny?” “I want to go home,” she answered quietly. “I want to get the hell away from here for a while, clear my head somewhere I’m not surrounded by a hundred Gryffindors… I just want to go home.” Harry thought hard about this for a few moments. “Then we’ll go,” he said simply. Ginny gave him a startled glance. “Excuse me?” “Is one Gryffindor too many?” Harry asked with a half-shrug. “Christmas holiday is in a couple weeks — let’s go to the Burrow.” “You don’t want to stay here?” Ginny asked, incredulous. “Well, you know how I love dances,” Harry said with a large, fake sigh, making Ginny giggle softly. “But I think I’d have much more fun with you than have to see Hermione and Ron make eyes at each other until New Year’s and then go stag and watch people snog themselves stupid.” “Harry, you could get a partner in a trice,” Ginny explained, exasperation clear. “I’d have more fun with you,” Harry said again. Ginny contemplated this for a moment before saying, “All right.” “Okay,” Harry echoed. “I’ll ask for a portkey from Professor Dumbledore if you write to your parents.” “I’ll do that,” Ginny agreed. Harry motioned towards the door, “Do you want to go to the Owlery right now?” “I-I’ll go in the morning,” Ginny replied. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re right — again — I think this was all just too much in just a little bit of time.” Taking this as a hint, Harry looked towards the door again, “I can go if you want me to.” “I don’t want you to,” Ginny said with a rueful smile, “though you may be bored silly since I intend to just sit around and think. If you’re into that, then you’re about to have the time of your life.” Harry chuckled slightly and shook his head. “Will you be all right getting back to the tower?” “Ah, come on, Harry, I’m a Weasley,” Ginny said while spreading her hands wide. “Do you think I’d shame my family by getting caught?” “Well, we always have the mirrors if you do.” Ginny smiled at him — this smile by far the most sincere of the night and it made Harry feel better to see it — and said, “Thanks, Harry.” She moved towards him for another hug and Harry surprised himself by dropping a light kiss on her forehead. Ginny went still for a few seconds before disentangling her arms from his sides. Blushing slightly (Harry could feel his own cheeks warming quickly), she joked, “Well, maybe you can stay after all.” The tension broken, Harry laughed and answered, “I’ll see you tomorrow?” “Definitely,” Ginny said. Feeling slightly more red than usual, Harry walked backwards towards the door. He waved slightly at her and Ginny returned it as she sank back onto the berth before the fireplace. And, though he could be wrong, Harry’s last glance into the room showed Ginny’s eyes shutting tightly as she dropped her face into her hands. It was astoundingly easy to secure a portkey from Professor Dumbledore; Harry merely had to ask and a small teacup was in his hands, set to go off the evening classes ended. He ended up leaving it behind in the office (Harry was sure he’d end up breaking it if kept in his possession and then where would he and Ginny be?) and thanking the headmaster fairly profusely. It was likely made easier by the strong wards that remained at the Burrow, but Harry was glad that there was at least some measure of trust there as the older wizard was letting him out of sight for a few weeks without many questions at all. Classes weren’t over, though; both Harry and Ginny discovered that the hard way. She was contending with the quickly approaching OWLs and Harry had so many practice papers for NEWTs that he concluded that the professors should just give them the exams and be done with it already. They didn’t see each other much over the next couple of weeks and when he did see Ginny, Harry couldn’t shrug off the knowledge that she was still very much having a hard time. He would have liked to kick Dean for that, but held back with a restraint that impressed even Ron and Hermione. As for the confusion that still ruled inside his head, Harry decided to keep it exactly where it was. Half of him was afraid what would come of asking Hermione’s advice now; if it turned out he was over analyzing everything, he’d end up feeling incredibly foolish. If it all meant something, though… Ginny really didn’t need that from him. Not now, when she already had so many things on her mind. He could keep quiet for now. For her sake. And maybe his, too. Many things came together, however, the evening before his last Potions exam of the term; after what was said to him, there was no denying the temptation to face Dean, though it was tinged with guilt. Harry and Lisa were sitting at a table in the library, quizzing each other over several facts and concoctions; he would have preferred to study with Hermione and Ron, but they were nowhere to be found and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to go looking for them, lest they be caught in a compromising position. Lisa was good about it, though: she was patient when he got his figures wrong and then taught him some tricks to help him remember. This Ravenclaw, he thought, he actually didn’t mind in the end. Yawning widely, Harry shut his book and said, “I don’t think I could fit anymore into my head tonight.” “But you’re doing so well,” Lisa objected. He waved a hand at her, “Its okay, I really think I’ve got it. Thanks.” “You’re welcome,” Lisa replied, her cheeks already flushed. Harry didn’t think much of it until… “Um, Harry, before you go,” Lisa bit her lip and looked as if she were trying to summon all possible courage from within her body — and judging by the time it took, it was pretty far flung. “I was wondering… are you going with anyone to the New Year’s Ball?” “Er… no,” Harry answered, slightly stunned. Her cheeks flushed even more, if that was possible. “W-would you like to go with me?” “Oh.” Harry felt rather badly saying this. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to the Ball at all. I’ve already made plans to go home.” Home. Harry stopped and thought about it. Yes, he supposed the Burrow was home. He looked back to Lisa, saw her face fall slightly and felt bad again. “Thank you — er — for the invitation, though.” “No, no, it’s okay,” Lisa said hesitantly. She laughed at herself, “I’m actually impressed that I got to say it, I’ve been attempting it for weeks. I guess we can’t all have that Gryffindor courage.” “Ravenclaw isn’t anything to scoff at,” Harry said as nicely as he could, thinking Ginny would be proud of him for trying not to embarrass the girl. Lisa gave him an unsure smile. “It’s just… I hadn’t heard if you’d asked Ginny Weasley after all, since she and Dean Thomas broke up. There was this, um, rumor-” Harry fought the urge to roll his eyes. “There’s always a rumor,” he agreed, irritation evident. “So you’re just friends?” Lisa asked with a hopeful note in her voice. He coughed before answering, “Yeah.” “Oh.” Lisa leaned back on the bench and regarded him thoughtfully. “I think I should tell you something, but you’ve probably heard. But, in case you haven’t… that rumor?” “What about it?” Harry asked, puzzled. He thought he’d heard them all by now, but Lisa’s careful words were starting to send off some warning bells in his head. “Well, you said you’re just friends,” Lisa replied, looking down at her hands. “But it’s getting around that Ginny and Dean broke up because of you.” Harry shut his eyes and sighed. “That’s bollocks.” “Harry,” Lisa said nervously. “I heard Dean was the one saying it.” It was like a repeat of a recent night, but this time Harry was far more prepared. Marauder’s Map in hand, he followed the tiny footsteps that had Dean’s name attached. His dorm mate was currently pacing the fifth floor, just going back and forth, back and forth. There was no one near him, so Harry muttered the incantation, snapped the disabled Map shut and stuffed it in his pocket as he drew closer. Barely containing his fury, Harry rounded the corner and caught sight of Dean, though Dean seemed unaware of his company. His eyes instead were on the statue of Boris the Bewildered; sketchpad in hand, he was looking at the different angles of the perpetually confused wizard before marking them down. It was only when Harry was practically standing on top of him that Dean’s attention was caught. “Harry,” he said. “What are you doing here?” Ignoring his open — if puzzled — greeting, Harry said, “I want an explanation, Thomas.” Realization instantaneous, Dean set his lips tightly and shook his head. “Forget it, Harry. It’s for Ginny to tell.” “What does that mean?” Harry asked impatiently. “She’s going to explain to me why you’re spreading lies about her?” “What?” Aghast, Dean dropped his sketchpad to his side. “What are you on about?” “You. Lying to everyone,” Harry said fiercely. “I never said a word against you, Dean, not once. Why the hell are you telling people that you broke up with her because of me? I told you I never had a problem with the two of you being together.” Dean stared at him, disbelief clear on his expression. But, quickly, as if barely comprehending something, he clenched his eyes shut and muttered, “Damn it, Seamus.” “So you did say something,” Harry said triumphantly. “To my best mate,” Dean retorted in clipped tones. “I imagine you know something about that.” He slapped the sketchpad against his thigh. “Damn it, I should have known he wouldn’t keep his mouth shut. Telling him is the same as telling Lavender and then everyone knows.” It made sense, but Harry was much too angry to consider that into his attitude. “Brilliant of you to think of that now, after it’s already gotten around.” “Oh, shut up, Harry,” Dean ground out. “Shite, does Ginny know that- Shite!” “You know how she’ll react,” Harry warned him. “Of course I know how she’ll react,” Dean shot back. “I dated her for months. Give me a little bit of credit here, Harry. You aren’t the only one who knows her.” “But I know her best and she doesn’t need this right now,” Harry said. “Did you even think about that?” Dean glared at him, his face thunderous, “I think and know plenty more than you’re assuming.” Harry threw his hands up in the air. “Just make this right, Dean. Fix it before anyone else believes it. If you don’t, Merlin help me, I’ll forget that Ginny ever told me to leave you alone.” “It looks like you’re succeeding grandly at that,” Dean snorted. He turned on his heel and started walking away. “Besides, I can’t fix something that’s not broken.” Pacing after him, Harry exploded, “You’re not making any sense!” “And you’re in denial,” Dean shot back over his shoulder. “I didn’t make you break up with her!” Harry yelled at Dean’s retreating back. “Try something on for size,” Dean’s annoyed voice echoed back down the corridor to him. “Put two and two together and then come find me.” Stari ng at one’s bed hangings did nothing at all to help one clear one’s mind, Harry concluded as he laced his fingers on his chest. Maybe he should try the ceiling. He moved his eyes and stared at the wooden ceiling of his bed and… nothing. He was still as befuddled as before. Denial. The word repeated in his mind for the millionth time. Dean-ial. Harry snorted softly at his lame joke. Surlier than ever, Harry glared at the bed hangings again. He couldn’t be in denial if he didn’t know what he thought in the first place, so what the bloody hell was Dean going on about? “Harry?” Neville’s unsure voice accompanied the retreat of the curtains, letting in the dim light of their room. “Yeah, Neville?” Harry asked sourly. “There’s a girl at the portrait to see you,” Neville answered, looking uncomfortable at having to face Harry at his grumpiest. “I was in the library and she said she has your books — I offered to bring them up, but…” Harry blinked owlishly at the other boy before he remembered the way he’d flown out of the library earlier in the evening, leaving a taken aback Lisa — and his book bag — behind. He was fairly sure he’d left the chair on the floor, too. “Right,” Harry said, sitting up and swinging his legs down towards the floor. “Be right there.” Mind still consumed by the accusations — and they definitely felt like accusations — from Dean, Harry wandered down the stairs and towards the common room entrance. Eyes firmly on the ground, he didn’t bother to look up until he almost reached the portrait. What he found there was like a sucker punch to his gut. Once again, he’d happened upon Ginny and Dean, but this time they were in a small alcove several metres away from the entranceway — and directly in his line of sight. Head close to Ginny’s, Dean was speaking quickly and lowly, his hands out in some sort of supplication. On her part, Ginny was listening intently, her face resigned and uncertain. Though he knew he shouldn’t, Harry held himself very still in hopes of hearing something. Dean’s words, while soft, were clearly, “…I’m sorry, if I’d just thought twice…” Ginny sighed and replied, “Oh, Dean.” Suddenly Harry felt very much like being sick. Not willing to hear anymore, Harry pulled his eyes away and pushed the portrait open. As he’d suspected, Lisa was standing on the other side with his bag slung over her shoulder. She gave him a thankful smile. “She was trying to sing for me,” Lisa pointed her thumb towards the back of the Fat Lady. “I couldn’t bear asking her to stop, but it was-” “Awful, I know,” Harry said dryly and he could hear the Fat Lady’s instant grumblings upon listening to this exchange. He held out his hand for his belongings. “Sorry you had to come all the way over here.” “It’s no problem,” Lisa assured him. “If I may — are you all right now? If I’d known it would upset you…” “I’m fine,” Harry lied. “Okay,” Lisa replied. Obviously dawdling now, she looked down at her hands and then back up at Harry. “Um, I think it’s possible that I’m a glutton for punishment or that I’m over thinking things completely, but earlier — well, in for a knut and all.” Harry stared at her, bewildered. Lisa sighed loudly and began, “Hogsmeade. There’s a Hogsmeade visit in February.” Her hands fluttered up and Lisa was noticeably very embarrassed by her forwardness. “I’m trying to ask you to go with me and am failing quite exceptionally.” Gaping now, Harry took a few seconds to recover. Crestfallen, Lisa mumbled, “I’m sorry, I should have stopped while I was ahead. I just assumed you said no to the Ball and not, you know, to me. But, I’ll just… go… now.” “No, wait,” Harry called out as she started down the corridor. When Lisa stopped, Harry glanced once over his shoulder and then back at her. He inwardly made a rude gesture towards Dean and grit his teeth at the thought of the other boy asking Ginny for another chance. And though he knew that maybe that would be what Ginny needed to break out of her stupor, he couldn’t help but feel a strong measure of resentment against her. “Sure,” Harry said and Lisa’s face lit up. “It sounds like fun.” A/N: Feel free to scream; I’m mad at Harry, too. Next chapter should be up next around Monday. Once again, a big THANK YOU for all your reviews and constructive criticism. They help shape this story every bit of the way and I really appreciate your input. |
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