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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: 84342; Chapter Total: 6737 |
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Part Four Harry wasn’t hiding. So what if he’d said goodbye to Ginny so quickly that he was gone before she blinked? Who cared if he’d ignored how Tonks when she’d called out to him? That couldn’t count against him. They didn’t know what this meant, these small objects in his hands. Surely that was reason enough for him to be holed up in the room the twins claimed as their own when they had lived in the Burrow. He was thinking, that’s all. He needed space to think. But Harry was not hiding. Opening his palms, Harry stared at the matching set. He’d stopped long enough to retrieve his own mirror that had a spider web of split glass marring the middle of it. He hadn’t forgotten about it, though he’d tried over the past several weeks. It had lain on the bottom of his trunk all this time — his desperate attempt to deal with all that had happened without having to face it head on. Wiping at his cheeks once, Harry dropped the mirrors down on the ground and then pulled up his legs, resting his head on his knees. It was the closest he could get to feeling even the slightest bit better. The sharp pains that had dwelt in his stomach after Sirius died had returned full force when Tonks had given him the device had been discovered far too late. They were still there, jabbing and poking, taunting him that it was his own failure at communicating with Sirius that had cost his godfather his life. No, Harry thought furiously. It wasn’t his fault. He knew he had been tricked, but that’s what made it even worse. He should have been prepared and he hadn’t been. And it was nothing doing now, living with the truth of the prophecy and what he’d have to do. The prophecy. Harry grimaced at the thought and stood, choosing to pace as he considered it. While it had run over and over in his mind through the summer, he’d kept from thinking about it too much. He still had no idea what to do with the knowledge and had yet to come up with anything that would help him. Stopping, Harry stared out the twins’ window. Ginny was sitting on a low stone wall on the far side of the field they played Quidditch on. Tucked against a stone post, she was flipping through a book in her hands and writing in the margins. Her hair was blue again, but it didn’t bring a smile to his face as it had before. A part of him wanted to go and join her; he had a feeling she’d do something to cheer him in no time. But he didn’t go. Instead, Harry walked back across the room to where the mirrors lay. He picked them up, measuring their weight in his hands for a long time and wishing that things had turned out differently. He wished that the prophecy didn’t have to come down to just him. He wished, gods how he wished, that he was just another Weasley who could be just a kid all summer long and not need preparation for the battle of a lifetime. Wishing would do him no good, though. And he couldn’t do a damn thing about it. “Mr. Weasley?” The older wizard looked up from his cluttered desk to find Harry hovering at his doorway. Pulling off his glasses, he asked, “Yes?” “May-may I come in?” “Of course.” As he did, Harry took a good look at the tiny room that worked as Mr. Weasley’s home office. It was smaller than the one he had at the Ministry (if it were possible) and had an unkempt air to it that left the impression that Mr. Weasley used it in only the most emergent of situations. The last time he’d been this busy was in the aftermath of the World Quidditch Cup, when Mr. Weasley had disappeared for long periods of time, searching law books and writing proposals for the Minister. Harry frowned at the thought and Mr. Weasley simply watched him as he glanced about the room. There was a bookshelf full of dusty tomes, each relating to muggles in some way or another, but ridiculously out of date judging by the covers: ‘Muggles &You — Fantastic Flapper Dancing’ or ‘Muggles & You - Coquettish Courting’. There was a whole shelf for the series. Harry would have smiled at these at any other time, but the weight on his hands had consumed his thoughts. “Let’s see here,” Mr. Weasley said quietly, holding out his hands. Harry reluctantly held out the mirrors and placed them in Mr. Weasley’s grasp. “I’d wondered when Remus would give them to you." Harry blinked in surprise, “You knew?” “He mentioned them after the last Order meeting.” Mr. Weasley put his glasses back on and studied the mirrors. “Did he stop by today?” “No, Tonks did.” “Ah,” said Mr. Weasley. He gave Harry a kind look. “I’d hoped he would come. That’s why I turned down his request to bring it myself. It’s been hard on many people, what happened. Remus and yourself more than others, of course.” Only grimacing in response, Harry sat in a chair across from Mr. Weasley as he began to study the mirrors. Mr. Weasley smiled grimly, “Yes, I can imagine it’d be hard to be around one another at a time like this. Loss… well, loss is always difficult.” “Can you fix it?” Harry asked abruptly. He paused and added, “Please?” “Reparo should fix this one, but I’m afraid it may have broken the enchantment as well,” replied Mr. Weasley, seemingly taking the change of conversation in stride. “Give me a few days to find the proper spell and it’ll be as good as new.” “Thanks,” Harry mumbled. He stood to leave. “Harry? A question, if I may?” Confused, Harry turned to the older man. “Sir?” “Harry,” Mr. Weasley repeated, leaning back in his chair and looking over him closely. “Do you know how very glad I am that my son has a friend like you?” “E-excuse me?” “I am,” Mr. Weasley said with a chuckle at Harry’s stunned response. “B-but,” Harry stammered again, “I always get him in trouble. He’s been in loads of dangerous situations because of me.” Mr. Weasley chuckled again, “Well, I decide to look at it differently.” The question on Harry’s face was so clear that Mr. Weasley explained without being asked. “You see, Harry, my son is prepared because of you.” Harry frowned. “Prepared?" “Yes,” Mr. Weasley affirmed, with a confident nod. “And he’d had adventures that I know are the envy of his brothers. Granted, they were dangerous but I choose to trust that he makes his decisions based on the right things. Loyalty, bravery, faith… any father would be delighted to have a son like Ron. You’ve had a hand in all those things.” “But, I-” Harry began to protest. “My greatest hope is that you feel you can confide in my son with equal trust,” Mr. Weasley interrupted. “Remus is working through his grief at his own pace, with those he needs by his side and I know you need the same. Forgive my intrusion, but I felt you may need that reminder.” He shook his head and continued, “Trying to find solace in only yourself will bring nothing but more pain, Harry. If there are things to say, who better to go to than your friends?” Harry gazed at the older man, his _expression confounded. “I have six sons, Harry, and I’ve learned to see when something is troubling them.” Mr. Weasley stood and moved towards him, patting him on the shoulder before tweaking at Harry’s still-red hair. “I hate to see you going through the same.” “Right,” Harry said faintly. “W hat’s up, Harry?” Ron looked up from the counter where he’d been separating his father’s muggle tools into different piles. “Dinner,” replied Harry. He showed the two plates in his hands and dropped them on the counter. “I asked if we could have it out here.” Ron wiped his hands on his jeans, “Mum let you?” “Actually it was your dad.” Harry tried to say it in an off-handed way. He was still a little stunned from their conversation, surreal as it was, but it was heightened by what had followed. Mrs. Weasley had been caught between saying yes or no to Harry when her husband’s gentle pressing had caused her to give in Harry’s favor. Until then, he’d always seen Molly ruling with an iron fist and this was just another occurrence where he found things weren’t always what they seemed in the Weasley household. Ron was too busy digging into his place with the fervor common to a teenage boy to notice Harry’s thoughtful silence. “Did you know your hair’s red?” Ron asked, his voice a little puzzled “Ron, I need to tell you something,” Harry said suddenly. “What? Is it permanent?” “No, no,” Harry said. He pointed to his head, “This was all Tonks and Ginny’s doing. It’s supposed to be gone soon, but I’m not too sure about that.” Ron nodded in understanding, “Should have known.” Harry hopped up on a counter and set his elbows on his knees, “No, I need to talk to you about something else.” Mouth full again, Ron gave him a shrug as if to ask him what it was. Looking down, Harry said, “There’s something I haven’t told you. I’ve known I should, but it was one of those things that I thought I could figure out on my own, you know? And something happened today…” Harry sighed, “Even your dad could see and he’s right, I should tell you. I have to stop trying to do it all myself, especially when I know you’ll have your say. But it’s just so-” “You’re sounding like Hermione there, mate,” Ron interrupted, a wry smile on his face. Snorting slightly, Harry nodded. “Just tell me,” Ron said, putting his plate to the side and lounging against the opposite counter. “I can handle it.” “I know you can,” Harry said slowly. He closed his eyes and took a steadying breath. “Dumbledore told me what the prophecy says.” He opened his eyes to see Ron cock his head to one side, but he said nothing. “I… I’m it, Ron. It was about me and Voldemort” — Ron’s eyes narrowed a bit at the name, but he didn’t flinch — “it’s about how… I’m the only one who can do him in.” Ron still didn’t reply. “The prophecy, it says that a boy would be born who would be the only one who could kill him,” Harry swallowed thickly. “The full description, it fits me. Only me. He found out about a piece of the prophecy and that’s why he went after my parents. He was trying to kill me before I could kill him. He’s the only one who can kill me, too.” Unsure of how else to explain it, Harry fell silent. Across from him, Ron had ducked his head and taken a large breath before turning around to face the counter. Hands wandering now around the scarred wood, he quietly asked, “Are you sure?” “Yeah,” Harry said. “Right then,” Ron muttered. Picking up one of the wrenches, he bounced it twice in his hand before flinging it at the far wall. Harry jumped in surprise, but it was nothing to his reaction when Ron turned to him with a mostly calm _expression. “Are you okay?” “Are you?” Harry asked back, shell-shocked. “Can’t say I’m surprised,” Ron said. “It explains a lot.” Harry stared at him. “Come on, Harry,” Ron said with a sad shake of his head. “The way he’s gone after you all your life? How it always comes back to you?” “I didn’t ask for it,” Harry said bitterly. Ron looked at him if as if he were stupid. “You know what I mean.” Harry sighed and nodded. Running a hand through his hair, Ron asked, “So what are we going to do about it?” “I-I don’t know,” Harry answered. “I hadn’t thought much about it past telling you.” Ron cross his arms and leaned against the counter again. They didn’t say anything for a long while; on Harry’s part, there was no way he could explain the sudden lightness on his shoulders. It was as if someone had taken the tightness in his chest and unraveled it a bit, bringing relief at last. Just telling his friend, seeing his friend react the way Harry’s mind had been trying to all this time… “What about Hermione?” Harry’s attention was jerked back to Ron’s curious question. “I’ll tell her at Hogwarts, I suspect. Owl post is too dangerous these days.” “She’ll go mental.” “Then we’ll have to make sure she understands we wanted to tell her but couldn’t,” Harry replied. “No,” Ron looked over at him. “I mean she’ll be worried sick over it.” Harry frowned, “Yes, I suppose you’re right." Ron nodded sagely before scoffing lightly to himself. “I thought you were trying talk to me about Ginny.” “Ginny?” “Yeah, you know, big brother’s permission and all.” Harry stared at him. “What are you talking about?” Looking back at him with equal bewilderment, Ron said, “Well, I thought you were going to tell me you fancy her.” “WHAT?” “You do, don’t you?” Mouth dropping open, Harry barely recovered and sputtered, “I don’t like Ginny!” “Well, not like that,” he hastily added at the offended look on Ron’s face. “We’re friends, that’s all.” “But you’ve been spending so much time together-” “We’re only friends, Ron,” Harry said impatiently. The oddest feeling crept up him that he’d be reciting that very same like several times in the future. How had they moved from talking about Voldemort to this? Disbelief in his eyes, Ron held up his hands as if to say he wouldn’t question him further. Harry had his own doubts about that. “Are you going to tell her about the prophecy, too?” Ron asked, changing gears quickly. Harry’s mind slid to a stop. “You said you’re friends,” Ron said pointedly. He had, Harry thought to himself and kept from looking Ron in the eyes. And it was true, Ginny was — or was at least becoming — a good friend. But he couldn’t explain why his chest was feeling tight all over again at the thought of having this same conversation with her. “No,” Harry whispered. “I’m not going to tell her.” Maybe it was the look on Ron’s face or maybe the tiny voice that was telling him he was making a rather stupid decision, but Harry set his jaw with his resolve. Ginny was not to know. And he couldn't figure out why that was. “It’s too bad it’ll be just us tomorrow. It would have been nice to have a big party,” Ginny announced. She glanced over at him. “Oh, Harry, just sit down.” “But it’s your bed,” Harry said haltingly. He’d been staring at the quilt with apprehension, but he looked up to see Ginny place her hands on her hips and roll her eyes. “Don’t be such a boy.” “Can’t help it, now can I?” Harry retorted as he finally rested against the wall in defiance. It was the day before his birthday (“Minus one day to freedom,” Ron had said gleefully) and he’d been banished from the kitchen while Mrs. Weasley planned his birthday supper. A rainstorm had forced him and Ginny to take shelter inside and they’d retired to her bedroom, a fact Harry was starting to regret. He hadn’t been there since his first day back at the Burrow and though he vaguely remembered being drowsy enough to consider napping on her bed, he knew he’d be horrified to entertain the thought when fully awake. Having little experience with girls, let alone their bedrooms, Harry stood around awkwardly as Ginny played with a dial on her wireless. “Bloody storm,” she was grumbling. “The reception is terrible.” Harry hummed in response and reached out a hand to examine the knickknacks on her dresser. There were little figurines of animals, including unicorns, bears and cats, all of which blinked curiously at him. A snow white feline climbed into his hand and preened before curling onto his palm. “She must be sweet on you,” Ginny said, now standing at his side. “Princess usually keeps to herself.” Harry cocked up an eyebrow, “Princess?” “I was four,” Ginny explained with a shrug. “Sleepy little thing, isn’t she? The charm never fully goes away, but they get awfully lazy.” Chuckling a little, Harry carefully put the cat back on the dresser. “I finally got something,” Ginny said. She turned up the wireless just as a fast-paced song came on. “What I wouldn’t give for a good party. I think we’d all do well with one.” “I don’t need anything big,” Harry protested. “Of course not, but it’d be nice to have an excuse to be completely barmy,” Ginny insisted. “We’re in the middle of the summer and still haven’t had much fun to speak of.” “I’m having fun,” Harry said honestly. Finally giving in, he sat on Ginny’s bed — which felt exactly like Ron’s. The look on his face must have given him away because Ginny smirked. Harry smiled wryly and said, “If you’re not enjoying yourself-” “Oh, I am, but who would ever be foolish enough to limit it?” Ginny looked despairingly out the window, “Though the weather tries its hardest.” “It’ll pass.” Harry shifted back on his hands as Ginny began to wander the room as he had done. She stopped by the wireless and turned it up even higher. Looking at Harry, she said, “Let’s dance.” He laughed out loud, surprised. “What? “Dance,” Ginny said plainly. As if to show him what she meant, she started swaying in place. “If we can’t have a party, we can at least dance.” “I-” Harry laughed again as she started to bounce on her heels in time with the music. “I don’t know how.” “Come on, Harry,” Ginny tugged at his hand. “Nobody’ll know but me.” “And that’s one too many,” Harry shot back. Ginny tried tugging again, but Harry stayed put. “Fine, I’ll dance by myself. I’m an independent sort of gal.” She proceeded to prove her point by spinning about the room, singing along with the lead of the band. Shaking his head, Harry lay back on her bed and pretended to cover his ears as she bounced about. He was interrupted when Ginny jumped on the bed and looked down at him. “Come on, Potter,” she urged him. “Show me what you’re made of.” “I don’t know how!” Harry repeated as she jumped off the mattress. Ginny threw her arms out wide, “Who cares?” When she pulled at his hands again, Harry let her heave him up, but he stood still as she began to sway again. “You are one of a kind, Ginny,” he said when a lull came between songs. “And it’s so much better that way, don’t you think?” Ginny said mischievously. She clasped their hands together as a new melody began and pulled him back and forth. Harry let his arms go limp, but he didn’t move voluntarily, either. When Ginny frowned exaggeratingly at him and let go, he sighed and bobbed his head a few times and then stopped. “I can’t,” he laughed again. “I can’t. It’s too weird.” “You’re missing out,” Ginny teased him. “I’ll take your word for it,” he replied. “Well,” Ginny said in a resigned sort of way, though he could see she didn’t mean it. “We’re down to only one option, then.” “And what’s that?” Mirth clear in her eyes, Ginny held out her hand to him. “Let’s go.” “Ginny , are you mad? We could get sick.” “Oh, mum,” Ginny mocked. Harry looked out at the pouring rain with hesitation. “Don’t fret.” Harry scowled at her, but knew the look on her face was pure challenge. “Fine. Fine, I’ll do it.” He bent down, removing his trainers and socks before dropping them just inside the doorway of the Burrow. Ginny did the same and pushed the screen door open. The moment they were clear from shelter, they were soaked by the rain but Harry was pleased to see that the impervious charm on his glasses was still working. “Now what?” He asked Ginny, who was equally doused. “Hmm,” Ginny looked around. She pointed, “See that tree?” “Uh-huh.” Ginny broke into a run and yelled over her shoulder, “I bet I’ll get there first!” “Cheater!” Harry sprinted after her, his bare feet slipping precariously on the wet grass. His legs were longer than Ginny’s, but her head start and his near-fall caused him to arrive after her. Ginny, her hands braced on the tree trunk, laughed openly at his muddy legs. “Weasley, you’re a no-good, dirty, rotten cheat!” Harry roared, but his amusement was too obvious to be taken seriously. “You’re just mad you’re slow!” Ginny yelled back. “Yeah?” “Yeah!” “Fine! That tree!” Harry broke off in a run toward the one he’d pointed to. Ginny was at his side for two strides, but he quickly pulled ahead and got to their destination first. “Ha! Who’s slow now?” The glint in her eye should have warned him, but Harry didn’t act quickly enough to stay on his feet after she gave him a full shove on his chest. He landed arse-first in a puddle and mud flew in all directions. “You are,” Ginny said sweetly. Her triumph, however, was cut off when he grabbed her ankle and pulled her down. Mud splattered wetly onto his cheeks and arms as Ginny tumbled alongside him. “What was that again?” Harry asked maliciously. Ginny picked up a handful of mud and threw it straight at his chest. Harry narrowed his eyes. She glared back. The fight was on. “What in the WORLD were you thinking?” Harry and Ginny exchanged glances, trying desperately to hold in their laughter. The look on Mrs. Weasley’s face wasn’t inciting fear, but making his struggles even worse. Ginny looked no better off. “Look at you! You could have caught your death out there!” Mrs. Weasley huffed loudly, taking in the sight of the two mud-spattered teenagers in front of her. They were brown from nearly head to toe, except for the one perfectly clear area around Harry’s eyes that was shaped like his glasses. Ginny sniggered lightly, only enough for Harry to hear and he could swear she said, “Don’t fret, Mum.” “Upstairs! Now! Really, Ginny, Harry, couldn’t have you found something better to do with your time?” “Not really,” Ginny murmured, once again only loud enough for Harry to catch it. He had to bite his tongue from bursting. Mrs. Weasley’s glare at their backs, they trudged up the steps, their feet making squelching sounds beneath them. Mrs. Weasley scourgified the mess they left behind, but seemed satisfied that they’d have to clean themselves up without magic. Ginny threw him a towel from a cabinet next to the loo and motioned from him to follow her. They faced the mirror, shoving away as much mud from their faces, necks and arms as they could with the cloths. Catching each others eye in their reflection, they both fell apart. “That was fantastic,” Harry said when he felt his stomach stop clenching from hysteria. Ginny nodded enthusiastically and rinsed her cloth under a run of water. She scrubbed at the remaining streaks on her face and replied, “We’ll have to do it again.” “Hey, I just mopped in here!” Ron’s bewildered explanation came from the hallway and he was soon in the doorway. He looked even further affronted when he took in Harry and Ginny’s disordered state. “Hey, Ron,” Harry said with a wide smile. Ginny gave him a cheery wave. “One day,” Ron said morosely. “You couldn’t wait one more day?” Harry and Ginny exchanged a look, accompanied by a pair of sneaky grins. Ron never saw the two hand towels coming, but they landed on his face with a satisfying smack. A/N: I'm terribly sorry for the longer wait for this chapter. My computer is free-falling towards its ultimate crash and it's only when I'm lucky that I'm online. All's well that ends well, though. Reviews? Constructive criticism? I love it all. |
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