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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: 84343; Chapter Total: 7272 |
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True to his word, Ron was long gone the next morning when Harry awoke. The tantalizing scents of bacon and eggs filled his nostrils and it made him grin a bit when he figured out it was most likely Ron making breakfast. These suspicions were confirmed when he entered the kitchen a few minutes later and found his best mate decked out in one of Mrs. Weasley’s frilly aprons with a irritated look on his face. The look was no doubt Ginny’s fault, seeing as she was standing at Ron’s side, suggesting when to flip her eggs. “Now the last batch, those were all right,” she was saying while she nudged his side. “But too crisp on the edges. Eggs shouldn’t crunch in your mouth, Ron.” “If you don’t move, you’ll find an egg shell in your ear,” Ron said back. Rather than moving away, Ginny nudged him again and took the spatula from his hands. They grinned at each other as Ginny took over the pan and Ron moved on to the toast, finally seeing Harry. “Harry! What do you think about crunchy eggs?” He scratched at his head and yawned. “I’ll actually eat anything at this point.” Ginny laughed and took the pan off the stove. “Grab a plate then.” He did and soon the three of them were sitting around the table. It turned out that Mrs. Weasley had left to go shopping in Diagon Alley and Mr. Weasley had left for work, so it was just the three of them. Ron bemoaned the long list of chores that his mother had left behind for him, “I can’t even skive off for an hour, she’d know for sure.” “Uh, Ginny?” Harry looked away from his friend’s miserable expression and to the girl in question. “Yeah?” Suddenly, the thought of asking her to join him to go flying felt strange in his mouth. Exactly how did one go about it? Most times he just poked Ron with his broom and pointed in the general direction of the Quidditch pitch; surely that wouldn’t work here. Instead, Harry asked, “So — er — what are you doing today?” Ginny tried to talk around a mouth full of food, “Luna owled me this morning to go to her house. I’ve been watering her plants since I knew she and her dad would be in Switzerland. She finally remembered to ask, though.” “Oh.” Slightly disappointed, Harry glanced down at his plate. “Do you want to come with me?” Ginny watched him for an answer and added, “It takes a long time, really, and I could use the help.” “I’m not sure if I can,” Harry said hesitantly. “Dumbledore said the wards around here are strong, but it’s best I stay close to the house.” Ginny frowned, “That’s too bad. What are you planning on?” “Flying, I guess.” “She wants me to clean the floo?” Sounding scandalized, Ron broke into their conversation. “Do you know how long that takes?” “I’ll help you out,” Harry offered. “I’ve nothing else to do.” “It’s messy business, Harry,” Ron warned him. “And I’d rather not have another week added on when you get caught with soot all over you.” He sighed. “Go fly, if I’m lucky I’ll see you go over the chimney from time to time.” “I’ll try,” Harry said. Beside him, Ginny was collecting the plates and glasses and placing them in the sink. She apologized to Ron for not helping him finish up, but she wanted to get to the Lovegood’s while it was still early. After Ron waved her away and Harry said goodbye, she left them. After helping Ron with the dishes — Harry sincerely hoped Mrs. Weasley wouldn’t smell the lemon scented soap on him — he went outside, broom in hand. In a small fit of nostalgia, he laid the broom on the ground and yelled, “Up!” Pleasure fused through him when the broom immediately hopped into his hand and Harry couldn’t contain his smile as he threw a leg over and shot into the air. The morning passed too quickly for him, the bliss of being back on his Firebolt made the hours meld together. It made no difference that it had been months since he’d been on a broom; Harry fell back into his sharp dives and twists within no time and his heart felt lighter than it had all month long. At one point, he actually landed on the chimney of the Burrow and peered inside as promised. Ron was barely visible at the bottom and they attempted a conversation until Ron complained that he kept swallowing soot. Giving up, Harry took off again and didn’t come back down until Ron appeared outside and called out that Mrs. Weasley had made lunch. Both of them made a show of lingering over their sandwiches and Harry was thankful that Mrs. Weasley didn’t make Ron immediately go back to his chores. It was in the middle of their joking and arguing over the prototypes in the latest Which Broomstick that Harry’s contentment soared. It was nice, he thought, to just be Harry and nothing else. It wasn’t a feeling he got often, but he could count on that much when he was with the Weasleys. Harry landed with a thud, hoping that there was still some lemonade left over from lunch. His t-shirt stuck wetly to his back, but he walked with a measure of satisfaction. He’d kept flying even through the heated afternoon and his leg muscles ached from constant twisting and gripping; his hair was sopping wet from sweat and he leaned over to shake it out. In the distance there was a wolf whistle and Harry looked up to see Ginny sitting on the back steps of the Burrow, grinning widely. Embarrassed, Harry raised hand in response and pulled at his shirt with the other in an effort to keep it from outlining his frame. “Why, Harry Potter, do you have an ambition to be a model?” Ginny asked cheekily as he drew closer. “There’s good money in that.” Face red, Harry rolled his eyes and didn’t respond. “Only you have to do it more like this.” Ginny made a show of shaking her hair about, most of which landed on her face. “Or maybe not.” “Maybe not,” Harry agreed. Ginny pushed her hair back and patted the step beside her. Though he’d planned to go directly inside, Harry shrugged and sat next to her. “Did you just get back?” “I told you it took a while. I got back hour ago, actually, but I had another owl,” she said. Ginny raised up some parchment so he could see it. “I decided I’d better write back before I forgot.” “Oh?” Harry wiped at his brow. “One of you brothers?” “No, it’s from Dean.” Ginny smiled to herself and then asked, “Did you have a good day?” “I did,” Harry folded his arms on his knees and stared at the open field. “Good.” They sat in a companionable silence for a few minutes as Ginny turned her head down and began scratching on a sheet of parchment with a battered quill. Harry would have left, but his body was enjoying the lack of movement far too much for him to try to convince it otherwise. From time to time, he glanced at Ginny’s messy scrawl, but stopped himself whenever he thought she might think he was reading it. When a light breeze lifted and cooled him considerably, Harry shifted back onto his elbows and stared up at the clouds. It felt good, he thought, to just sit around. Hermione would no doubt be peppering him with questions about his OWLs or insisting that they study. Ginny just sat there, pouring over her writing and letting him relax. As with any situation where one just sits around, Harry’s mind began to wander and it was several minutes later that a voice interrupted him. “What are you thinking?” Startled, Harry shifted his eyes to where Ginny was looking back at him. Her lips lifted slightly as she waited for him to respond. “Just… stuff, I suppose.” A tiny frown settled on Ginny’s brow, but she didn’t say anything else. After scratching at her nose with the quill’s end, she turned back to her letter. Though he raised his eyes back up to the clouds, an image popped into Harry’s mind of the night before where the screaming queen had tried valiantly to push away from Ginny’s nostrils. A grunt of laughter escaped his mouth and Harry tried to grin innocently when Ginny looked at him again. “And what is so funny?” “I was just thinking of you and Ron… regressing,” Harry said. She scowled. “I can’t believe Hermione said that. We’re not bloody five year olds anymore.” “Could have fooled me.” Harry yelped when Ginny pushed at his knee. “I didn’t say it was a bad thing.” “Regressing, pah,” Ginny said. “We’re just trying to have fun when there’s a chance for it to be had.” That was an odd choice of words, even to his ears. Curious, Harry pushed up on his hands, “Er, what?” Her hesitant pause was barely perceptible, but it was enough that Harry caught it. “Come on, Harry, do I really need to explain?” “Maybe I want to hear what you have to say,” Harry said, surprising himself. He did want to know, even as he realized that this conversation could directly lead back to their experience at the Department of Mysteries. Ginny seemed to be having the same thoughts, but nodded decisively. Carefully putting her quill down, Ginny looked out at the field and slowly said, “Bad things are coming.” “They’ve already come,” Harry interjected. “It’s going to get worse,” Ginny said lowly. A shiver ran down Harry’s spine at the sudden hardness in her voice. “A lot worse.” She pressed her lips together and then twisted to face him. “They’ll destroy things and… and they’ll hurt people. It’s very possible that it will hit close to home, my home.” Ginny stopped, breathed deeply and set her shoulders. “But they won’t take it. Do you know why?” Harry shook his head. “Because it’s here,” Ginny tapped at her breastbone. “And here.” She then tapped at her right temple. “That’s what’ll get them, what they’ll never understand. They can’t take what they don’t understand.” Not sure if he understood either, Harry remained mute and pulled his eyes from Ginny’s. Silence fell between them again, but now Harry was wondering how to make a quick exit without making Ginny feel badly about it. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice now much smaller. It was obvious that she was already regretting that she’d spoken. Harry still didn’t say anything back and so Ginny quietly added, “There’s just been so much bad stuff, all I can do right now is focus on the good so I can remember when… when.” “When,” Harry murmured. “I’m sorry,” Ginny repeated, standing abruptly. Before Harry could ask her to stay — he wasn’t sure if actually wanted her to — Ginny walked into the house, the screen door snapping behind her with a finality that made him flinch. “Ugh, my spit’s still black.” Harry wrinkled his nose, “That’s disgusting, Ron.” “You’re telling me.” Ron made some strange faces as he tried to rid himself of the soot and floo powder that clung to him like a blanket. He carefully picked up a set of clothes between his fingertips. “Dinner will be ready soon and I intend to stay in the shower as long as possible. Tell me when it’s done?” “All right.” Settled against the windowsill, Harry nodded and then glanced back out at the darkening night. Frankly, he was glad that he wouldn’t have to face Ron for a while yet. After Ginny had vanished (it sounded like she was in her room, but was so quiet he couldn’t be sure), Harry had lost the peaceful feeling he’d claimed momentarily on the back steps. Truth was, he’d lost it halfway during their conversation and he was thinking very hard of how they would treat each other at dinner. Harry sighed and dropped his chin on his arms. Now that time had passed, he’d begun to feel a little bad about it all. Ginny hadn’t wanted to talk about it and he’d asked anyway, a little Hermione-sounding voice told him, so it made sense that he should do… something. All he could think to do was kick himself a little more and that wasn’t going to make anything better. It had been such a good day, but now all he could think, all he could feel, was of how much he missed Sirius. He hadn’t lied when he’d told Ginny of how things had already gone bad; his godfather had died — the word made him cringe — before the world had even assented that the second war had begun. Those things that she’d said that were in her heart and her mind, Harry and Sirius had barely enough time to form those memories. A large part of him was still angry, but Harry was too tired to do anything about it. What was the use? Sirius would still be dead and he, Harry, would still be responsible for how the war turned out in the end. He clenched his hands into fists. It wasn’t fair. Nobody had asked Harry to be the hero, he’d never had a choice, but all the same it was up to him. Those things that Ginny could only refer to as ‘when’ had so much to do with his own actions… When someone got attacked… When someone lost their home… When someone died… It just wasn’t bloody fair. “I can’t imagine what she was thinking, barely owling you today,” Mrs. Weasley said with a considerable amount of exasperation as she passed her daughter the salad. “Yes, well, Luna always seems to have her mind on other things,” Ginny responded and dropped a meager amount of greens on her plate. “I don’t mind at all.” Mrs. Weasley hummed her answer and looked at her son. “Goodness, Ron, stop scrubbing at your tongue, the soot’s gone.” “But, I can still feel it.” “Stop being ridiculous.” Harry stabbed at his baked potato and gave Ginny a sidelong look. She was chatting with her father now as if absolutely nothing was wrong, asking him about Perkins and his day at the office. At one point, Mr. Weasley reached over and ruffled her hair, which she responded to by grabbing at his wrist and giggling while pulling away. An indulgent smile still on his face, Mr. Weasley caught Harry’s eye and said, “So Harry, how was your day?” Ginny gave Harry a quick glance and then stared down at her plate as he said, “It was good, Mr. Weasley. I went flying.” “Fantastic! High hopes for the Cup this year?” “Yeah,” Harry answered. “Professor Dumbledore already said he will let me back on the team, but we’ll still be short a few people.” “Ginny, you’ll be going for chaser, right?” Ron asked. She looked up, her face bright, “That’s the plan. Have to show them what the Weasley’s are made of, don’t we?” “Hear, hear,” Ron agreed. With an evil grin, Ginny mused, “’Course we’ll need a new keeper, too.” Her brother rolled his eyes, as if he knew what was coming. “What are you on about? I’m keeper.” “Oh, were you? So sorry,” Ginny blinked benignly. “And here I thought we had such a shoddy one last year that he needed immediate replacing.” “Ginny!” Mrs. Weasley said sharply. Her husband chuckled, but quickly sobered when she threw a glare in his direction. “Oh, Mum, I’m just having a little fun with him.” Ginny gave Ron an encouraging look, “Ron was excellent in our last game. We couldn’t have won without him.” Ron noticeably puffed up, “Too right.” “See?” Ginny patted her mum’s hand. “No offense taken.” Indeed, there wasn’t. The rest of the dinner was taken up with Ron and Ginny listing potential candidates for the remaining chaser position before moving onto who would be their captain. Ginny volunteered Katie Bell, but Ron held out that Harry had a chance; at this, Harry objected because he hadn’t even played three of the games the previous year, though the thought secretly thrilled him. It kept him buoyant even as they ate dessert and his good mood was contagious. Her children’s banter leaving her in a better disposition, Mrs. Weasley let them leave the dinner table together rather than making Ron stay behind for the dishes. Ron set up the chessboard with almost indecent haste, looking to Harry as if to discern whether he’d play or not. Harry simply sat down on the other side in response, intent on carrying this one through. He had to grin, though, when Ron’s queen warily eyed Ginny, who’d taken a seat on the sofa with a notebook, before taking her rightful place. The pace at which Ron beat him in the first game would have been mortifying if Harry weren’t already far used to it. As the pieces slowly reconstructed themselves, Harry looked over at Ginny and carefully asked, “What are you reading?” She looked startled at his attention, but said, “Just OWL revision notes that Hermione bound for me.” “Oh,” Harry said, a bit uncomfortable as Ginny went directly back to reading. Ron was giving a pep talk to one of his knights — who’s destruction was the result of Harry’s one good move — and didn’t notice. He was at a loss for something to say when she kept acting like everything was okay. An idea occurred to him to leave well enough alone and he decided instantly that he would. At least he’d tried… sort of. It wouldn’t have been of any use because, right then, Mr. Weasley walked into the room and handed a book to his daughter. “I’d almost forgotten. Perkins told me you wanted to take a look at this.” Ginny looked down confusedly at the volume before recognition dawned on her face. Harry could have sworn she looked at him again, but she smoothly slid it under the notebook. “Thanks, Dad. I’d forgotten all about it.” “Harry?” He turned to see Ron’s curious look. “Oh, ready again?” They started another game, but Harry couldn’t ignore the strange feeling that he was being watched. Every time he looked at Ginny, however, she was determinedly going through her notes and paying them no attention at all. Oddly, though, her arm was always covering the spine of the book her father had given her and Harry never saw what it was. Harry was trying very hard not to dance in place, but it was difficult. Inwardly cursing the several glasses of water he’d drank after flying and at dinner, he hoped to get into the bathroom without finding himself in a very embarrassing position. Unfortunately, someone had taken up the one on the first floor and the only other, next door to Ginny’s room, was locked up tight. At about the time he was thinking of racing downstairs and finding a protected area outside, Ginny stepped out of her room with a towel and night clothes in her hand. “Harry?” “Yeah?” He shifted nervously. Judging by the laughter in her eyes, Ginny knew exactly what was troubling him, as if this wasn’t humiliating enough. “Oh, is someone in there?” He barely stopped a quick jig. “I dunno, but it won’t open.” “Well, there’s a trick to it. The twins did something to it last summer and no one knows how to fix it permanently yet,” Ginny said, pushing him aside. She worked the door, jiggling it a bit and pushing at the knob. It opened with a loud click and Harry sighed loudly with relief. “There you go.” “Thanks!” He raced and felt much better for the help, though while Harry washed his hands it occurred to him Ginny was probably still waiting outside. So it was with a very red face that he opened the door back up and had his suspicions confirmed. Ginny, however, didn’t appear to care. “My turn,” she said gaily, sailing past him and closing the door. Harry stood there dumbfounded until Ginny reopened the door and peeked out at him. “Seriously, Harry, I have six brothers and a father, it’s not a big deal.” “Right,” Harry said tersely. “Right.” Ginny stared at him for a moment and added, “You can go now.” “Oh.” Harry turned and went upstairs once she closed the door. He still needed to brush his teeth, but guessed that he’d need to wait a little longer. Ron was already in bed, so Harry just waited on the edge of the cot until he heard the water turn off again and headed downstairs. He was standing in front of the door, toothbrush in hand, when Ginny stepped out wet-haired and in a large, faded dressing gown. She stopped short when she saw him and asked, “Have you been there the entire time?” “Er — no.” “Good, because that would be bloody weird.” Harry blushed again, but stepped past her. He was in the middle of brushing his teeth when he noticed Ginny was still standing there. Mouth full of foam, he could only give her a questioning look. “You didn’t have your toothbrush down here?” Ginny asked. Harry shook his head. “Why not?” He shrugged. And spit. “So, you just carry it back and forth?” He rinsed his mouth and nodded. Ginny rolled her eyes and plucked his now clean toothbrush out of his hand and dropped it into a holder on the side of the sink. “Harry, you’re a guest… but you’re not a guest. You know what I mean?” “No,” he said simply. “It means that you don’t have to carry stuff back and forth. See this nice little spot? That’s Harry’s spot because Harry lives here as much as the rest of the Weasleys.” “Harry’s standing right here,” he said dryly. “Just getting a point across,” Ginny said. “It’s across,” Harry said. He intended to go up the stairs after walking out of the bathroom, but something stopped him. Looking at Ginny, he tentatively said, “I’m sorry I upset you earlier.” Ginny raised her eyebrows. “I thought it was the other way around.” “Was it?” Harry wondered. They didn’t say anything for a moment and pointedly avoided each others eyes. Finally, Ginny said, “I wasn’t exactly sensitive about Sirius. You’ve gone through loads more than the rest of us.” Her face was so sincerely contrite, Harry told her, “We’ve all gone through a lot, not just me. And, you were right, it’s not done yet.” “Yeah,” Ginny replied as she looked down. After a moment, she offhandedly said, “Look, let’s just not go there, okay? It’s bad enough that it’s happening, we don’t have to discuss it.” “Okay,” Harry said slowly. They stood there awkwardly again for a few more seconds before Ginny nodded her head towards her room. “I should go to sleep.” “Me, too.” Harry didn’t move and felt all the more foolish for it. Then again, Ginny didn’t move either. He wasn’t sure why she was just standing there, but he could feel there was still something left to say and he searched his mind, wondering what it could possibly be. “Harry?” Oh, thank goodness. He looked over at her. “How…,” Ginny hesitated as if she were summoning up all bravery, “how does one go about being your friend, exactly?” He stared at her for a moment, wondering what she was getting at. “Well,” he said, eyeing her carefully, “I met Ron on the train and then there was that whole ‘fighting a troll’ thing with Hermione.” “Right then.” Ginny’s mouth quirked at the edges . “I’ll just wait for the Hogwarts Express and put myself in mortal peril. But, just in case that doesn’t work out, how else would one go about it?” That was a question he’d never been asked before. Harry opened his mouth and closed it a few times before saying, “Er — that’s about it.” Her face fell as caught onto what he said. “You have more friends then that, Harry.” He grimaced, “I know a lot of people. Some I’m friendly with… some I’m not.” “I see.” Ginny looked down. He barely heard her murmur, “I’d like to be your friend, Harry, but I’ve never been able to figure out how to do it. I thought it was just me.” She laughed a little, without amusement, and Harry gave her an equally humor-less smile. “No, it’s pretty much everyone.” Ginny glanced up at him and said, tentatively, “Well, seeing as we’re several weeks away from getting on a train and I’d really like to keep myself out of harm’s way… can we settle on flying? Tomorrow?” “Flying,” Harry echoed. At seeing the hopeful look on her face, something in him felt just the tiniest, in the faintest way, better. “Flying would be good.” “Good,” Ginny repeated. “Tomorrow it is.” They smiled at each other, real smiles this time, and were finally able to say goodnight. A/N: Sorry, more of a filler chapter than anything else. Even so... tut-tut, you are planning on reviewing, aren't you? |
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