More Than Words (Incomplete)

More Than Words (Incomplete)  

ONE – Brand New Day

Ginny looked around the Great Hall in curious detachment. It was her last night as a Hogwarts student, and it didn't quite feel real. For one thing, the end of year feast was actually an end of year feast and not a funeral. The previous four had been akin to nightmares, hard on the heels of several deaths: Cedric, Sirius, Dumbledore… Then the battle… This year, it seemed as if the students had heaved a collective sigh of relief. Aside from the usual bumps and bruises from Quidditch games, explosions in Potions or Charms, or random gash from a bowtruckle, the year had been relatively uneventful. It was as boisterous as the one Ginny remembered from her second year. A group of boys whooped loudly from the Hufflepuff table, and Ginny caught McGonagall studying them with an odd, wistful expression on her face, before a rare smile curved over her mouth. McGonagall swirled the wine in her goblet, seeing the ghosts of students past, and friends long gone, before she gave a sketchy salute to only someone she could see, then drained the goblet. Hermione stretched languorously, for once unencumbered by the stacks of books she seemed to carry around with her all the time. 'Heard back from Charlie yet?' she asked Ginny. 'Hmmm?' Ginny tore her gaze from its perusal of the Hogwarts Headmistress and gave Hermione a slightly quizzical look. 'Did you say something?' Hermione rolled her eyes. 'Has Charlie written back to you yet?' 'Oh. Yeah. He sounded a little odd, though,' Ginny mused. 'How can you tell?' Hermione quipped. Charlie's terse letters were almost legendary. Ginny's eyes widened. 'He said something about the two of us having dinner with a friend.' She pushed her plate away, and rested her folded arms on the table. 'George said something about some witch at the reservation, but I thought he was trying to pull a fast one on us.' 'Could be just a friend,' Hermione observed, toying with a spoon. 'Could be,' Ginny allowed. 'But Charlie's a bit of a loner outside the family. He must like her or something.' Demelza slid into the seat next to Ginny. 'Right,' she breathed excitedly. 'You have to tell me everything about your try-out with Holyhead.' Ginny frowned a little. 'You're not having a trial with Kenmare?' Demelza shook her head. 'Fell through,' she said shrugging. 'They signed a reserve Chaser with more experience.' 'Bollocks to them, then,' Ginny sniffed. Demelza brushed off Ginny's outrage on her behalf. 'It's fine. I'm not sure I want to play professionally.' 'Did you have anything else planned?' Hermione asked. 'I applied for a position with Which Broomstick. I'm the assistant to someone's assistant. Sort through their post, arrange their schedule, fetch tea… Your basic entry-level position.' She reached for an apple. 'Eventually, I want to test the brooms they try to sell to the Quidditch teams and review them.' 'Do they get a lot of those?' Hermione asked curiously. 'You'd be surprised,' Demelza replied, polishing the apple on her sleeve. 'Less than half of everything that's tested finds its way into Quality Quidditch Supplies. Most of what's tested goes into the version we send to Quidditch teams,' she said

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knowledgably. 'Why?' Hermione asked blankly. Quidditch was something she merely tolerated. 'Why…?' Ginny prompted. 'Why have a different version for Quidditch teams?' Demelza chuckled through a bite of apple. 'Most teams provide brooms for their players. Broom manufacturers make different variations of the same broom for each position. Seekers' brooms are slightly more streamlined than say, a Beater's broom that has to handle the extra bulk of most Beaters. A Keeper's broom has elongated foot rests to make it easier to stand. Handles on Chasers' brooms are slightly broader. Speed's pretty much the same for all of them, but Chaser and Seeker brooms are a bit faster than the others.' Hermione blinked at the barrage of information. Demelza laughed, delighted at finally being able to rattle off more information about anything than Hermione. 'Then, there are the brooms that are sold for general use, like school brooms. Racing brooms. Brooms for long-distance travel…' 'I had no idea,' Hermione said faintly. She'd never glanced at a Which Broomstick longer than a second or two when Ron shoved one under her nose expounding on the virtues of a Cleansweep over a Comet. Being able to travel with the usual Muggle methods, as well as Apparition, had somewhat limited Hermione's knowledge of other means of magical travel. She did know broomsticks were used for routine travel, having used one to get from London to the Burrow two years ago, but the many alternatives where a hitherto unknown topic to her. 'Wow.' Ginny's eyes widened theatrically. 'We finally found something that Hermione doesn't know anything about,' she told Demelza in a hushed voice. 'Ha-bloody-ha,' Hermione intoned sarcastically. She glanced around the Great Hall, then took several long looks. Dinner was over, and their plates were replaced by trays of biscuits and pots of tea and chocolate. It looked as if the celebration would go on longer. Younger students moved among the tables, no longer feeling bound to sit with their respective Houses. Two tiny Hufflepuff girls dragged a surprised-looking Slytherin boy from his table and towed him to the Ravenclaw table, where a thirdyear student produced a wizarding chess set from his robes. A few Gryffindor students pulled out several sets of Exploding Snap cards and scattered amongst the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables. A few Slytherins joined other tables, but like the first one, only when cajoled or coaxed by another student. They seemed to not know what to do with themselves. Hannah skipped toward them and grabbed a handful of biscuits from the tray, then sat across the table from Hermione. Ginny began to beckon Luna to join them, but she was surrounded by a bevy of first-years, listening wide-eyed to her stories. 'Do you realize we've spent nearly half our lives here?' Hannah asked idly, pouring a cup of tea for herself. 'I've spent more time here than I have with my dad.' 'I think it's deliberate,' Demelza added. 'Oh?' Ginny took the teapot from Hannah. 'Well, think about it. When we leave here tomorrow, most of us will start lives on our own, live apart from our families,' Demelza said, with a nod toward Ginny. 'We've had to make our own decisions since the age of eleven, basically, then deal with the consequences.' Hermione sat quietly, accepting a cup of tea from Ginny, and thoughtfully cradled it between her hands. She hadn't given too much thought about her living arrangements past school, assuming she'd live in Oxford with her parents for a few months while she got settled with her job with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures in the Werewolf Support Services. Hermione wanted a break from being an adult, even if all it meant was that she slept in her childhood bedroom for a while longer. 'I can't wait,' Ginny declared. 'I'll finally get some space to call my own.' Demelza shook her head. 'You're mad,' she stated. 'Playing professional Quidditch… It's not the easiest life for people without a support system at home.' Her head tilted to the side, as she twirled a lock of dark hair around a finger and studied Ginny. 'But I thought you knew that.' 'How is it any different from what we do now?' Ginny challenged. 'So you train four days a week,' she said with a shrug. 'Not much different than what we do now.'

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'Not all day,' Hermione murmured. 'Don't forget – the professional leagues play three games a month from September until June,' Demelza reminded Ginny. 'We only play 3 games over nine months.' 'And we do have someone to organize our meals and sort through our laundry. Make our beds,' Hannah added. 'Pfffft.' Ginny waved off their concerns. 'Yeah. Hi. We can use magic.' Hermione regarded Ginny with a sober expression on her face. 'I would think the prospect of being on your own like that might be a bit… well, scary…' Ginny shook her head. She pointed to Hermione, then Hannah. 'Neither of you have brothers or sisters,' she stated, then turned her attention to Demelza. 'And you're the eldest. None of you have any idea what it's like to have someone constantly hovering over you. For the first time in my life, I will be able to make my own decisions without having to justify them to anyone but myself.' 'Regardless of whom those decisions might affect, hmmmm?' Hermione asked. Ginny started a little guiltily. 'Harry will understand,' she murmured. 'You're sure?' Hermione persisted. Ginny's eyes dropped to the cup of tea in front of her and she hitched one shoulder in reply. 'You know what the life is like for a professional player, don't you, Ginny?' Demelza asked quietly. 'Of course I do,' Ginny snapped, slightly annoyed. 'Training six to eight hours a day, four days a week, then the game And training five to six days a week when you don't have a game that week. And the off-season training. So?' 'Do you want to get married, have a family?' Hannah interjected. 'Eventually.' 'Then you'll know most professional Quidditch players rarely marry or have children. Especially the women,' Demelza said. 'Or they quit playing at their peaks.' Ginny sighed impatiently. 'Yes, I do. But I'm not even eighteen. I don't have to think about those things just now.' She reached for a biscuit and broke it in half. 'And I know it's a hard life, especially for women. I read the Prophet and most of the time female players are viewed with more than a little suspicion, or they're thought to be licentious. And one of the main reasons I chose to sign with the Harpies is they're rarely in the paper or in Quidditch Quarterly for any other reason besides their game.' She nibbled one half of the biscuit. 'Why do people insist on treating me like I don't know my own mind?' 'Nobody's doing that, Ginny,' Hermione soothed. 'Fine,' Ginny sighed. 'Now start treating me that way.' She let her shoulders slump a little. 'I don't see anybody questioning you lot for your decisions…' 'Fair enough,' Hermione murmured, well aware working for the Werewolf Support Service wasn't exactly a career choice that would put her in regards with most of the wizarding world. Most witches and wizards would have believed she didn't know her own mind, either. XxXxXxX Most of the other students had left, and only a few seventh-year stragglers were left, knowing there would be little time for prolonged farewells tomorrow. One by one, Demelza, Hannah, and Hermione drifted to their dormitories to finish packing or go to bed. Luna lightly skipped to the table where Ginny sat staring into yet another cup of tea. 'Trying to read your tea leaves?' Luna asked. Ginny shook her head. 'When are you leaving?' she asked. 'In two weeks.' Luna propped her head in an upturned hand. 'The expedition is going to start in eastern Europe at the end of July, but the naturalist I'm going to assist with research wants me to get a head start.' file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/More%20Than%20Words%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:36:54]

'Aren't you scared?' Ginny asked quietly. Luna gathered her straggly hair in one hand and pulled it over her shoulder, combing her fingers through the candy floss-like strands. 'A little,' she confessed. 'I mean I'm leaving Daddy by himself, and there won't be anyone to look after him and make sure he remembers to eat meals…' 'Being by yourself in a group of people you don't know very well, if at all, doesn't frighten you?' Ginny snorted. Luna's large eyes blinked slowly and she began to nod. 'Ah… I see. You can't really be alone.' At Ginny's bemused look, Luna continued. 'You can never really be alone, as long as you have your family – or at least their memories. One can always make new friends.' Ginny's confusion melted into outright skepticism. Luna had always been quite comfortable living on the fringes of any and all cliques. 'I suppose…' Luna steepled her fingers together under her chin, her elbows resting on the table. 'But this isn't about me.' 'Maybe it's not,' Ginny acknowledged. 'And you're supposed to be brave. Like all Gryffindors.' Luna's eyes crinkled with humor. 'There's nothing wrong with having a healthy apprehension of what life might bring you. It's not as if you've always known you wanted to play Quidditch and what to expect.' Ginny took a sip of her tepid tea. 'It's the women,' she confessed in a hushed whisper. Luna's brows rose, making her look even more surprised than usual. 'Aside from you, Hermione, Demelza, and Hannah, I don't really get on with most girls. And when I dated Michael Corner, then Dean, then threw myself at Harry…' Ginny felt the flush creep up her cheeks. 'I heard the rumors. From other girls. I just don't have the best record with other girls…' 'It won't be like school,' Luna said hopefully. 'Familiarity breeds contempt,' Ginny shot back. 'It could be exactly like school. Or worse.' XxXxXxX The lamps burned softly in the quiet shop. The wireless played in the corner, the raucous sounds of the Weird Sisters filling the rooms. George caught Katie's hand as she passed, and drew her to him, twirling her in a ragged circle. She threw her head back and laughed, winding an arm around George's waist, their movements turning a bit suggestive, until Ron cleared his throat. 'Go do that at home, would you?' he sighed. Ron wearily rolled his head in a couple of slow circles, smiling blissfully at the loud pops it emitted. George planted a smacking kiss on Katie's cheek, then released her, looking around the shop. 'Think we're good for tomorrow? ' he asked Ron. Ron nodded. 'Yeah.' He eased a hip onto the tall stool behind the counter, wincing at the pounding in his feet. 'I can't look at anything in here anymore,' he groaned. He glanced at one of the displays. 'I keep thinking I've missed something…' George cast an expert eye over the shelves. 'Everything is… fine,' he pronounced. 'Not a bad job for your first end of school sale.' He prodded Ron's shoulder. 'You did a great job organizing all this, little bro.' The corners of Ron's mouth tipped up. 'Thanks,' he said a little bashfully. 'Be nice if I could have a lie-in tomorrow, too,' he yawned, stretching his arms over his head. 'Get your own place,' George retorted. 'Uh… Speaking of that…' Ron suddenly sat up, alert. 'Could I have a quick word?' 'I'm happy where I am, Ron,' George intoned. 'Katie's a decent cook, and she can actually fold laundry with magic.' 'Thanks ever so, George,' Katie drawled, rolling her eyes. George shook his hair from his eyes. 'I'm not sharing some scrotty flat with you, just so you can get out of the house,' he told

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Ron. Ron flushed dully. 'That's not what I was going to ask,' he muttered. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth, but no words came out. 'Well, come on,' George huffed. 'Out with it.' 'I want the flat upstairs,' Ron blurted. George's mouth snapped shut. 'I…' The words died in his throat. Ron looked so hopeful, but George couldn't answer him just yet. His whole demeanor changed, and he seemed to shrink inside himself. Without saying a word to Ron, George stumbled away from the counter and out of the shop into the swiftly falling summer night. 'Shite,' Ron hissed. 'Stupid…' He caught Katie's puzzled eye and shook his head. 'Not George,' he hastily corrected. 'Me.' Katie's expression quickly smoothed into something less bewildered . 'Sorry,' she sighed. 'You're not being stupid.' 'I'm not?' 'It's wasted space,' Katie said softly. 'If it's not being used,' she added practically. 'Why do you want to live there particularly?' Ron pushed the ledger books under the counter, and slid the stool back. 'It's convenient, for one. The cost of letting it shouldn't be too dear, and it's large enough for Hermione and me. If she wants to live there with me. And if she doesn't…' Ron shrugged. 'No matter.' 'Liar,' Katie scoffed gently. 'It will matter.' Ron chuckled tiredly. 'Yeah, it will.' She bit her lip, studying Ron. 'I'll talk to him.' 'Who? George?' 'Yes.' Katie waved her wand at the lamps, and they began to slowly fade. 'Go home and have a nice sleep,' she ordered. 'And I'll try and get George to see things your way.' 'He won't like it,' Ron cautioned. 'Of course he won't,' Katie agreed. 'But I don't intend to change his mind,' she whispered conspiratorially. 'Then why bother?' Ron huffed. Katie smiled at Ron, with a faintly pitying sort of look about her. 'You ought to know. You can't change a Weasley man's mind.' She held the door open for Ron. 'He has to think it's all his own doing.' Ron opened his mouth to protest, but realized Katie was right. Hadn't he meant to leave the shop after tomorrow? But no, he was making plans about what to do in the shop when students began coming in to get their things for school, what they could do for the summer hols, and how they could try and open a shop in Hogsmeade. And it had been subtle, so subtle, that even Hermione might not have noticed George carefully making Ron see that he was an integral part of the shop now. Katie's laugh rang out in the quiet street. 'You see?' She lifted her hair from her sweaty neck. 'Don't worry. It might be December before George lets you live over the shop, but we'll get him to see reason.' She walked up the street to her building, leaving Ron alone in the middle of the street. XxXxXxX Harry attempted to lift Teddy from Ginny's arms, but they tightened around the toddler. 'Let me,' she whispered. She walked through the flat without tripping over the hearthrug or waking the baby and carefully walked into the small room on the other side of the flat. She laid him in the cot and stroked his wispy turquoise hair back from his face. 'I can't believe how much he's grown,' she marveled. Harry's arm snaked around her waist. 'I can't either…'

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They stood for several moments, watching Teddy sleep, then Harry softly tapped the lamp with his wand and it dimmed, leaving a bare glow in the room. He led Ginny from the room, leaving the door partially open. 'What a day,' Ginny sighed, propping her feet on the coffee table. 'What time did you tell Molly you'd be home?' Ginny glanced at her watch. 'Sometime before dawn.' She groaned softly leaning back against the overstuffed cushions of the sofa. Her parents, Harry, Teddy, Bill, Fleur, and Percy met the train, along with Hermione's parents, and then spirited them off the Leaky Cauldron for a "welcome-home-from-school" dinner, where they met Ron and George. Ron and George swallowed their meals without tasting them, then rushed back to the shop. Hermione and her parents left, followed by Bill, Fleur, and Percy. Molly and Arthur left, taking Ginny's things back to the Burrow with them. Harry and Ginny lingered over their puddings, chatting desultorily of this and that. Teddy had managed to fall asleep on the ride back to Soho. It was now after ten. 'Long day, eh?' Ginny nodded. 'Been up since six.' She yawned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. 'Then the train…' 'I always had a hard time settling down when school let out,' Harry commented, one hand burrowing under Ginny's hair to massage the back of her neck. 'Either not wanting to let it go, or trying to process it all.' He sat up. 'I've got something to give you.' 'Oooh. A present?' Ginny's face lit up. 'Stay right there.' Harry darted into his bedroom, and returned with a bulky, wrapped package. 'Here.' He thrust it unceremoniously into Ginny's arms. Curiously, Ginny peeled back the wrapping paper, revealing an empty drawer from Harry's bureau. She stared at it blankly. 'What's this…?' Confused, Harry stammered. 'A… a… drawer… For you…' 'Why?' Ginny sat up slowly, suspicion dawning over her face. Harry sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. 'Do I have to spell it out for you?' 'I think you'd better.' Ginny set the drawer aside. 'I want you to live here,' Harry said, in a fit of boldness. 'With me.' Ginny's jaw tightened. 'Why?' 'Why wouldn't you?' Ginny stiffened. 'Because I might want to live on my own for a while first?' she hissed, mindful of Teddy sleeping in the next room. She surged to her feet, pacing restlessly. 'Why is it all right for you to live on your own, but not me?' 'That's not what I meant,' Harry whispered heatedly. 'Everybody always wants to look after me!' Ginny stormed. 'You, Mum, Dad, Ron… Demelza, Hermione, Hannah…' She spun on one heel and stomped softly to Harry. 'I can take care of myself, do you hear me?' Stung, Harry drew back a little. 'I hear you. And this has nothing to do with your ability to look out for yourself…' 'Then why?' 'I just thought…' Harry shrugged. 'I thought you might want to live here…' 'Did you think about discussing it with me first before you bought furniture with me in mind?' Ginny scoffed. 'Yeah, I knew what you were after when we went on that shopping spree in April. You wouldn't buy anything or arrange it in here without my opinion. If I hadn't liked the flat, I'm willing to bet my broom you'd have given it up.' She folded her arms across her stomach. 'Moving in with you? That's a "someday" sort of thing to do. Not a "day I leave school" thing to do.' file:///C|/Users/user/Documents/fanfic/More%20Than%20Words%20(Incomplete).htm[26/02/2011 15:36:54]

'Gin…' Harry began. 'Bloody hell, Harry, we haven't even…' Ginny trailed off, embarrassed, and made a vague gesture. 'Yes, I know,' Harry said tartly, keeping his voice low. Ginny let her arms fall to her sides. 'Moving in here… That's a commitment. More of a commitment than sex. And if I –we – aren't ready to have sex with each other, then how on earth can you believe we're ready to live together? Even Ron and Hermione haven't gone that far yet?' 'At least we'll do something they haven't done,' Harry murmured, in a flat attempt to interject some humor into the tense moment. Ginny threw her hands up. 'That's just it!' she whispered. 'I don't want to do something because either everyone else is doing it, or they haven't gotten there yet.' She grabbed her jacket from the hook by the door and stabbed her arms into the sleeves. 'I want to do it because we want to. When we're both ready for it!' she snarled. Ginny yanked the door open and stalked onto the landing, barely refraining from slamming the door shut, lest she wake Teddy. She clattered down the stairs and retreated to the Leaky Cauldron to use their Floo connection to go to the Burrow. Harry shoved his glasses up and savagely pinched the bridge of his nose. 'Well, that could have gone better,' he said to the forlorn drawer.  

TWO – Walking Alone

The bedroom lightened gradually with the rising sun, and Harry glared at the ceiling overhead, unwilling to close his burning eyes. He'd hardly slept the night before, and what sleep he did manage was fitful at best. The more he had allowed himself to think about Ginny's reaction to his offer for her to live with him, the more infuriated he became. Harry flung the quilt back and shuffled into the other bedroom. Teddy was awake, watching the antics of the stag, dog, and wolf drawn on the walls of the nursery. Satisfied Teddy would be able to keep himself entertained for a few minutes, Harry trudged toward the kitchen so he could at least give Teddy breakfast. As for himself, Harry didn't fancy eating at the moment. He caught sight of the drawer he'd left in the middle of the sofa when he'd gone to bed last night. He drew his wand from the pocket of his pajama bottoms, and pointed it at the drawer, desiring nothing more than to pulverize the bloody thing. Instead, it sailed through the air and drifted into Harry's bedroom, settling almost lazily into the empty space of his bureau. He quickly prepared a small bowl of porridge for Teddy, then strode into the nursery. As he bent over the cot and scooped the toddler into his arms, Teddy whimpered and struggled to slide down Harry's body so he could crawl or walk on his own power to the kitchen. Sighing, Harry let the boy walk, Teddy's hands gripping his index fingers. It was a slow procession. Once in the kitchen, it took a herculean effort just to persuade Teddy to sit in his high chair. Teddy wailed and grunted, shaking his head, clinging monkey-like to Harry's arms. 'Oh, all right,' Harry snapped, dropping into a chair, and arranging Teddy in his lap. He picked up the spoon, and scooped up a bite of the porridge, and blew gently across it, then offered it to Teddy. Teddy squirmed in Harry's lap, whining to be let down. 'You have to eat, Teddy,' Harry told him, rubbing Teddy's lower lip with the edge of the spoon. Teddy's mouth opened, and Harry quickly pushed the spoon inside. Almost immediately, Teddy spat it out, dribbling porridge over his chin. Harry doggedly scraped it off Teddy's face, and offered him the bite once more. Teddy shook his head, hands pushing the spoon away. The porridge clumped between his fingers, and he smeared it into his hair. With far more patience than he actually felt, Harry swabbed the porridge from Teddy's hair with a damp tea towel, and doggedly scooped more porridge in the spoon. Holding it high in the air, Harry intoned in a sing-song trill, 'Open up for the aeroplane!' Teddy's head turned to the side. 'Firebolt?' Harry tried. Teddy's head turned the other way. Harry called on every tactic he'd learned from either Molly or Andromeda, but Teddy stubbornly evaded each one. Defeated, Harry pushed the bowl away, and soberly regarded his godson. 'You need a bath,' he said. 'Ba!' Teddy repeated. 'Baaaabbbbbbbssss.' Harry pushed himself to his feet. 'No, no bubbles today, mate,' he said with no apology. He carried Teddy into the bathroom and tapped the taps of the bathtub with his wand. As the water cascaded into the bathtub, Harry stripped off Teddy's sleepsuit and nappy, then wiped the remains of the porridge from his face and hair. Once the water had reached a depth of a few inches, Harry set Teddy into the warm water, and tossed in a few toys from a basket he kept next to the bathtub. Teddy

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giggled and splashed gleefully while Harry slid to the floor. He regarded Teddy for a moment, then shrugged. What did he have to lose by confiding to the baby? It wasn't as if Teddy would say anything. 'It wasn't a bad idea,' he began. 'I'll admit the timing wasn't the best.' Teddy upended a small cup full of water over his head. 'You don't have to rub it in, mate,' Harry grumbled. 'This isn't the type of thing I can talk to Ron about. One, it's his sister, and this isn't really something that I think he'd want to hear. Two, how much do I know about Gin? Or she about me?' Teddy held out a small rubber duck, and banged it on the edge of the bathtub. 'Well, there's that, too,' Harry admitted. 'Ron's known about Hermione since fourth year, at the very least. Not that he would admit it to himself for two more years. But still… They knew each other. Very well. Ron might be a git about some things, but I think by now he'd know enough about Hermione to not cram his foot so far into his mouth. Or at least word it differently.' Teddy blew a raspberry at his godfather. 'I could have worded it differently. Told her it was to keep a few things here. She's got a point, doesn't she? Even with being able to use magic, I don't think I'd want to go back and forth from London to Holyhead, either. And, yeah, I'm doing exactly what she wants to do, and there's nothing wrong with that…' 'Dadadadada.' 'Exactly,' Harry grunted, feeling his ire rise anew. 'She had no reason to lash out at me like that! None.' He Summoned a clean face cloth, and vigorously lathered it, then began to wash Teddy. XxXxXxX Ron escaped from the kitchen, and collapsed on the bench outside the door. It wasn't that hot inside, but he felt closed in. The truth of the matter was, he still enjoyed helping Molly cook the weekly family lunch. It was a time reserved for just the two of them – a newfound experience he wasn't willing to give up. Hermione would be along later for lunch, and then that evening the two of them would join her parents for tea. What he really wanted just now, was to spend some time with Harry. Just the two of them. They hadn't had much time lately, and with Harry moving out into his own flat, they seemed to only see each other on Sundays and the couple Saturdays a month Harry put a hand in at the shop. The garden gate squealed, ricocheting violently off the fence. Harry stalked through and headed directly for Ron. 'Watch him for me,' he said, not bothering to pose it as a request. Harry deposited Teddy in Ron's lap and went into the house. Ron regarded Teddy for a moment, then swiveled his head to glance into the house. 'Blimey,' he said mildly. 'What's gotten into him?' Teddy had no reply for Ron. He slithered his way to the grass and sped off on his hands and knees. 'Aw, Teddy, don't go in there!' Ron chased the toddler, who was heading directly for the tool shed. XxXxXxX Harry paused in the kitchen long enough to ask Molly, 'Is Ginny upstairs?' 'Why… Yes…' Molly gestured with a wooden spoon toward the stairs. 'Brilliant,' Harry muttered, stomping up the staircase. He barged into Ginny's bedroom without knocking. Ginny squeaked in surprise, holding a shirt to her chest. Harry quietly closed the door and advanced on her. 'I don't know what was going on with you last night, but I did not deserve that kind of response!' he hissed. 'Harry…' Harry's hand slashed through the air. 'I really don't want to hear what you have to say right now,' he continued. 'I heard enough last night.' He began to pace a little in the small room. 'I do love you, Ginny,' he began in a low voice. 'But that does not give you the right to take a bad day out on me. You want to complain about it? Fine. But don't turn it against me. You just don't do that to the person you love.' He paused and dragged a hand through his hair. 'I think I've been rather patient,' he told Ginny. 'I've waited for you to sort yourself out and figure out what you want, and I've not asked for anything in return. Well, now I'm asking!' The quiet sibilant whispers shocked Ginny into silence. Harry didn't raise his voice, but the fury was unmistakable. 'The only thing I want from you is the same respect I've shown you. Do you hear?'

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Ginny's mouth opened and closed. She nodded slightly. Harry's head jerked once in acknowledgment, then he spun on one heel and reached for the door. He yanked the door open, then just as suddenly, slammed it shut and stalked back to Ginny. He thrust his face close to hers, nose hovering a hairsbreadth over her own. 'And for the record, I do not want to take care of you!' he snarled. 'Not in the way you believe. And I can't believe you would for one moment think that of me.' With that, he left, leaving Ginny standing with her hands hanging limply at her sides, shirt dangling forgotten from her fingers. XxXxXxX Ron looked up from his meal and elbowed Hermione lightly in the ribs. When she turned to him, he used the handle of his fork to gesture toward Harry and Ginny. They sat next to each other, as they always did, but they weren't speaking – an eddy of uncomfortable silence in the noisy kitchen. They wordlessly passed dishes to each other, but neither of them was really eating what was on their plates. Ginny cleared her throat nervously and asked, 'Could you please pass the salt?' Harry grunted something unintelligible, but picked up the salt and set it down next to her elbow. Ginny dashed a bit of salt over her potatoes, then picked up the butter dish. 'Butter?' She held it out toward him with a slightly hopeful expression on her face. It was a well-known family joke about how she'd put her elbow in the butter one morning during the first summer he stayed with them. 'No, thank you,' Harry said with polite stiltedness. Hermione's brows drew together a little and she glanced at Ron, who shrugged. Charlie leaned closer to Ginny. 'When do you have to be in Holyhead?' 'Try-out starts on Tuesday,' she murmured. 'Hmmm.' Charlie picked up his water glass. 'Want to come home with me later?' Ginny pushed a roasted carrot into a puddle of gravy. Harry was unlikely to talk to her anytime soon. 'Yeah, that would be great.' Molly brought a treacle tart to the table and began cutting it into slices. She passed plates of it around the table and Harry held up a hand. 'None for me, Molly.' 'Trying to watch your girlish figure, then, eh, Harry?' George chortled. It was telling that no one laughed at something that would have usually elicited a response. 'But… it's your favorite,' Molly protested, pressing the plate into Harry's hands. Resigned, Harry accepted the plate, but the mingled aromas of Ginny's hair and the treacle tart made his stomach roil. Two of his favorite things in the world, and he had no desire to be near either of them. In order to appease Molly, however, he managed to choke down a bite or two, then mashed the rest of it into crumbs. He reluctantly joined the others in the paddock for a game of Quidditch, his broom held loosely in his hands, hanging back with Hermione a little. 'Oi! Harry!' Bill called. 'Are you playing?' Harry shook his head. 'Not today.' He contemplated the broom in his hand. 'I think I might head home in a bit,' he added in an undertone. 'Are you feeling all right, Harry?' Hermione inquired worriedly. 'I'm fine,' he said shortly, and turned to replace his broom in the broom shed. 'I'll see you later, Hermione,' he said, then walked back into the house to collect Teddy and take him home. XxXxXxX Harry stood in his bathroom, naked, contemplating his bathtub. It was filled with an unholy amount of bubbles and hot water. Truthfully, it made him feel a bit self-conscious to loll in such a luxurious bath. Nonetheless, he gingerly lowered one foot into the steaming water, followed by the other. He folded himself into the bath with a prolonged sigh, then leaned back closing his eyes. He slid lower into the water until his chin just barely touched the bubbles. His earlier rant to Ginny notwithstanding, he could still feel simmering resentment under the aloof exterior he'd displayed at the Burrow. It was more than a little disturbing. While what he'd admitted to Ginny last summer was true – his emotional equilibrium had balanced a great deal

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since Voldemort died – the lingering umbrage was unsettling. It had been months since he felt this way. He wasn't certain what had angered him more: the way Ginny had lashed out at him or her accusation that he lacked faith in her ability to look after herself. It was starting to make his head ache. XxXxXxX 'Would your parents mind if we skipped tea with them tonight?' Ron asked Hermione, as he dropped to the grass next to her. He swiped a forearm across his face and leaned back on his elbows. She closed the book in her lap and delicately pulled a leaf from his hair and dropped it, watching it fall to the turf between them. 'Not especially,' she replied with a shrug. 'We'll just have to stop at the telephone box in the village and ring them to let them know we've got other plans.' She adopted an inquiring expression. 'So are you going to let me in on those plans?' 'We ought to go talk to Harry.' 'Oh, Ron, I don't think that's a very good idea,' Hermione murmured. 'You know what Harry's like when he's in a mood,' she added. 'Oh, come off it, Hermione,' Ron scoffed. 'You're the one that always wants to talk about things.' 'Think about it logically, Ron,' she replied patiently. 'It's obviously something to do with Ginny, and I highly doubt he wants to talk about it with either of us.' 'How do you know that, eh?' 'Don't you think he would have sought either of us out?' Hermione said. 'Maybe he's waiting for us to come talk to him,' Ron said hopefully. 'You're not going to rest until you've rabbited it out of him, are you?' Hermione asked, resigned. 'Well, why shouldn't he talk to us? Ron shot back indignantly. 'We're his best friends.' Hermione studied Ron for a moment, then brushed a lock of his hair from his eyes. 'It bothers you, doesn't it? That he's not come to you with this problem…' Ron looked down at his hands, and said nothing, but nodded a few times. 'He always did before…' Hermione reached for her bag, and stuffed the book inside. 'I still don't think it's a good idea,' she stated, 'but it he and Ginny were behaving a bit oddly.' 'And we're not going to get to talk to Gin for a few days, at least,' Ron told her. He directed Hermione's attention to the lane outside the garden gate. Ginny held Charlie's arm, a bag slung over one shoulder, her broom clutched tightly in her free hand. The broom shimmered a little in the afternoon sunlight and Ron's face split into a grin. 'She's put every Cushioning charm known to wizardkind on that broom…' Hermione snorted. 'I don't know much about Quidditch, but even I know that if her broom were to break or possibly Splinch during Apparition, it would put quite a damper on her try-out.' She got to her feet and dusted the seat of her jeans off. 'Come on, then,' she sighed. 'You won't rest until we go to London…' XxXxXxX Ron knocked firmly on Harry's door, waited exactly ten seconds, then unleashed another barrage on the locked door. 'I still don't think we ought to be here,' Hermione whispered. 'We're his friends, Hermione,' Ron insisted. 'It's what we do.' Hermione's eyes closed briefly, and she tentatively knocked on the door. Inside the flat, Harry's eyes flew open at the sounds of insistent knocking. When they didn't immediately resume, he settled

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back into his bath, and was just on the verge of slipping back into the half doze he'd been in for some time when a series of timid knocks broke the silence. 'He obviously doesn't want company, Ron,' Hermione said quickly, swinging around to face Ron. 'And have you ever known Harry to refuse pudding and leave before the Quidditch game ended? He didn't play, either.' 'All the more reason for us to be here.' The door swung open. Harry stood on the other side, damp hair sticking out, a towel wrapped around his hips, skin flecked with daubs of foam. 'What?' he barked. 'Oh...' Hermione turned to Ron. 'I told you we shouldn't have come.' 'D'you always have to be right?' Ron asked huffily. 'If the two of you are going to bicker, I'm going to put some clothes on. I don't fancy standing here in naught but a towel listening to the two of you have the same argument that you've had since we started school, while I drip on my floor.' Harry spun on his bare heel and strode to his bedroom. Of all the people that had to show up, those two were the last ones he wanted to see right now. As much as they disagreed with each other and bickered, they usually acted as something resembling a single unit – the benefit of a long and thoroughly comfortable relationship. And after his row with Ginny, it was enough to make him want to be sick. Harry yanked on a pair of clean pajama bottoms and jerked a t-shirt over his head, then ungraciously stomped back into the sitting room. 'Right. You're here, so you might as well give me what lecture you've got planned so you can go home and leave me be.' He flopped onto the sofa, sprawling on the edge. 'Get on with it.' He glowered at his friends, staring at him in astonishment. 'Things seemed a bit… tense… between you and Ginny,' Hermione began. 'So?' Harry challenged. 'It's quite all right for the two of you to bicker like it's nothing, but I can't have a disagreement with Ginny?' Hermione fiddled with the edge of a small throw pillow. 'You don't normally ignore her like that,' she told him quietly. 'It's just a fight, Hermione,' Harry sighed wearily. 'What did you fight about?' Ron asked curiously. Harry let his head fall back. 'You don't want to know.' 'We do,' Ron responded. 'So I can decide what hex or jinx to cast.' Harry inhaled slowly. 'I asked her to live with me…' Ron stared at him in open-mouthed shock. 'Did you talk to Gin first?' Harry shook his head. 'Have you lost your bleeding mind?' he spluttered, feeling a bit of pride for feeling out how Hermione felt about the matter before attempting to cajole George into letting him have the flat. Harry's head turned slowly on the sofa, and he regarded Ron thoughtfully. 'It appears I have,' he said mildly. 'I take it Ginny didn't accept?' Hermione asked delicately. 'No,' Harry muttered. 'She told me I was trying to take care of her.' 'Are you?' retorted Ron. Harry shot him a quelling look, but added, 'Said I was denying her the opportunity to have what I do.' Ron looked down at his hands. Things didn't quite add up. There were times when he thought Harry was quite out of his tree in regards to Ginny. Harry was far more tolerant of her moods that Ron had been, but he attributed that to the fact Harry wanted to be with Ginny, whereas he was her older brother and was forced to bear with her because they were siblings. But

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he understood doubt and uncertainty, especially when framed with such a seismic shift as Harry and Ginny were about to have. 'You're afraid she's not coming back,' he stated softly. 'I am not,' Harry scoffed. 'I know what I want, and after years of living for other people, I think I deserve to live for myself.' 'You're afraid she'll go out, live her life, and figure out she doesn't want to be with you,' Ron told him. Harry glowered at Ron, feeling his ears burn. 'Stop.' 'Stop what?' Ron asked cluelessly. 'I really want people to stop telling me what I mean and how I feel, damn it,' Harry growled. He lurched forward from the sofa and snatched a film from a precarious pile next to his television and brandished it like a shield in front of him. 'Now that you've said what you came to say, you can leave, or you'll watch this with me,' he snapped. Hermione leaned forward, eyes narrowed, as she read the case. 'Oh, God,' she muttered, paling slightly. 'Not Mr. Creosote…' she said fearfully. 'Let's go.' She grabbed Ron's hand and all but pulled him to the door. 'Good-bye, Harry. We'll see you later…' 'I don't understand,' Ron complained. 'What's so bad about that film thing he's waving at us?' They disappeared down the stairs, and Harry sagged on the sofa with a sigh of relief. The Meaning of Life, he mused. 'Just what I need just now…' XxXxXxX Ginny followed Charlie into his spare cabin and dropped her bag next to the sofa, then propped her broom in the corner. Charlie rolled his eyes and snagged it in one hand. 'You're sleeping in the bed,' he told her, striding toward his bedroom. 'The sofa's fine,' Ginny protested. 'I can't take your bed from you…' Charlie reappeared in the sitting room, and aimed a light kick at the sofa. 'No, you won't be fine on the sofa.' His expression softened a little, and he tugged at Ginny's ponytail. 'One of my regrets is not at least giving it go with the English team, and I'll be damned if you cock this up because you had to sleep on that bloody excuse for a sofa.' Ginny blinked in response. For Charlie, that was nearly a speech. Charlie brushed her hair from her eyes. 'I've got nights in the hatchery this week, so by the time I'm going to work, it'll be time for you to go to bed, and when I get home, you'll be ready to head to the pitch.' 'I suppose…' 'Brilliant.' Charlie patted her back. 'Right then. I'm going for a kip. Shift starts at eleven, and I don't fancy tackling hatchlings without a few winks.' He bent to unlace his boots and indicated the door. 'Go out. See the village. Golden Talon's the best pub. You can have a nice stroll through the reservation if you like. Places you can't go are marked and charmed.' Ginny nodded, eyes swiveling toward her broom. 'Thanks, Charlie.' 'No worries, eh? Just give 'em hell at the trial, yeah?' Charlie grinned crookedly at her, then disappeared into the bedroom. Ginny grabbed her broom, and darted out of the cabin. She threw a leg over the handle and kicked off, swooping in an expansive arc toward the Harpies' stadium, tucked into a valley. She flew around the goal posts and came to a stop, hovering over the middle of the pitch, staring at the village that might become her home for however long she chose. Freshening wind off the Irish Sea blew strands of hair across her face, but she ignored them. If she cared to admit it to herself – which she didn't – Ginny was terrified. She finally had the chance to be Ginny Weasley on her terms, and not someone's sister or girlfriend. She just hoped she didn't make a complete disaster of it.  

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Ginny stared at the beamed ceiling of Charlie's bedroom, fingers tapping restlessly on top of the quilt. She sighed and flung the bedding back and swung her feet to the chilly floorboards. She dug a pair of ragged jog pants that had once belonged to one of the twins – George, if the faded name scrawled on the inside of the waistband was correct – and yanked a running singlet and t-shirt over her head, padding into the bathroom, while she quickly shook the plait from her hair, and ran a brush through it. She bound it into a ponytail and hurriedly brushed her teeth and splashed water on her face. Ginny slid her feet into her trainers, adjusting the laces. She burst from the cabin's door into the misty dawn. She began a series of stretches and exercises prescribed by Gwenog to increase her flexibility and strength, pleased to note that her nose was fractionally closer to her knee than it had been in March. Tight muscles gradually loosened and warmed, so she struck off for the entrance of the reservation at a slow jog. Gwenog had also suggested she take up running, hiking, or even riding a Muggle bicycle in order to increase her endurance. Running was a new activity for Ginny, and she wasn't certain she completed the activity with anything resembling fondness. She took a moment to wonder if Harry knew how to ride a bicycle, stumbling as her throat tightened. Probably show me how to ride if off a bleeding cliff, she thought. Pushing the thought firmly from her mind, Ginny gradually increased her pace, taking the path on the right from the reservation's gate. She focused on the steady rhythm of her trainers slapping against the packed earth. One-and-two-and-one-and-two…' she counted. It was the only thing that kept her mind off the stitch in her side. After completing two laps around the reservation, Ginny veered into the reservation itself, taking a few steps toward Charlie's cabin before she slowed to a walk. She bent forward at the waist, bracing her hands on her knees, as she panted, greedily sucking in sorely needed oxygen. Sweat dripped from the tip of her nose and into her eyes. She lifted the hem of the t-shirt and swiped it over her face, grimacing at how her knees trembled. 'You're Charlie's sister,' a woman's voice said from one side of Ginny. Ginny let the hem of the t-shirt fall and studied the woman. 'You've got the look of him.' Ginny raised a skeptical eyebrow. She didn't think she resembled Charlie at all. 'I was beginning to think he'd made up the lot of you.' 'No.' Ginny straightened and arched her back. 'There're six of us. Plus my oldest brother's wife and our parents. My youngest brother's girlfriend… They'll be getting married, just a matter of time. Took them four years to realize they actually fancied one another.' She took an experimental step, pleased to discover her knees wouldn't actually buckle, then began to walk slowly toward the cabin. 'There's my… Well, erm, my boyfriend.' Ginny gulped. 'And his godson,' she added in a rush. 'We all exist.' 'Have a trial with the Harpies, don't you?' 'Tomorrow.' Ginny eyed the dark-haired woman. 'I don't mean to be rude, but who are you?' 'Bronwyn Rhys. I'm a Healer here. My da's the Head of the reservation.' She shook her head incredulously. 'You mean Charlie's never mentioned me?' Ginny chuckled. 'Charlie doesn't really talk about himself much. His work, yes. Personal life, you'd think he didn't have one.' 'I think I'm beginning to see that,' Bronwyn said dryly. 'I'm a… friend… of Charlie's.' 'I think I'm beginning to see that,' Ginny responded. 'Don't take it personally. It's just Charlie.' 'Hmmmm.' Bronwyn inhaled slowly. 'Well, if you get bored banging around that empty cabin of his, come by the infirmary. I've got the early shift this week.' She began to walk backward toward the low building on her right. 'Tell him I'm on for dinner tonight, all right? That way you'll get a decent meal, and not whatever tinned slop he can manage to scrape together.' 'I thank you, and my mother thanks you. She'd be horrified if she knew I was trying to eat Charlie's cooking.' 'I'll be there about six.' 'Okay.' Ginny trudged across the valley and collapsed on the steps of Charlie's cabin. The door opened behind her and Charlie nudged her bum with the toe of one of his boots. 'There you are. Fancy breakfast?' 'Yeah.' Ginny leaned forward, heaving herself to her feet. 'So, I met Bronwyn…' 'Yeah?'

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'She's nice.' 'Hmmm.' 'She says she's on for dinner tonight.' Ginny walked past Charlie into the cabin. She headed for the kitchen, and bent over the sink, splashing cold water over her heated face. 'So, is she just a friend, or a friend?' Charlie opened a cupboard and removed a box of cereal. 'Do you want toast?' he asked, ignoring Ginny's inquiry. 'Sure.' 'Bread's over there.' Charlie indicated a cupboard near Ginny. He turned and saw Ginny's bright eyes fixed on him, waiting for an answer. 'We've been out a few times.' 'Going to bring her home for Sunday lunch?' 'Dunno.' Charlie Banished the box of cereal and two bowls to the table, along with a jug of milk and a carton of orange juice. 'Tea or coffee?' 'Tea.' Charlie tapped his kettle, waited for it to issue a piercing whistle, then poured it over tea leaves he'd already spooned into an old teapot. 'Got plans for the day?' 'Nothing special.' Ginny carried a plate of toast to the table. 'Where do you keep your butter?' Without speaking, Charlie reached into the cupboard where he kept such things, and groped for the crock of butter, handing it to his sister. He used his wand to direct the teapot to the table. He yawned widely. 'Wish I didn't need the sleep. I'd practice with you.' 'Gwenog said I could come up to the stadium today and practice a bit.' 'Brilliant. Just be back before five for dinner, all right?' Ginny nodded, and ate quickly, then washed her dishes, stacking them neatly in the dish drainer. She slipped into Charlie's bedroom and grabbed her bag, tossing it to the floor next to the sofa. She could shower and dress when she returned from the Quidditch pitch without disturbing Charlie. xxxxxx On a broom, Ginny often felt a measure of freedom she didn't experience anywhere else. Nothing else mattered. Not the pressure she put on herself to prove what she could do. Personal problems were left behind. It was an escape. She could remember waking up in the middle of the night and sneaking to the broom shed, picking the lock with one of Molly's hairpins, then grabbing each of her older brothers' brooms in turns. In the air, she could be anything she wanted, do anything she wanted. Her imagination took flight with her, creating a tale where she was the daring heroine, swooping in to rescue a prince in distress. In her childhood dreams, the prince always had a shock of black hair and bright green eyes. It was she who rescued him from the Muggles and returned him to his rightful place in the magical community. Reality had been shockingly the reverse. Even now, as she flew through the Harpies' stadium, practicing various formations, sweat dripping into her eyes, she was able to forget – albeit briefly – what had sent her running to Holyhead two days before her trial. Flying was deceptively hard work. There were dozens of small adjustments to be made in order to maintain one's balance; adjustments that required a great deal of intense concentration, especially when performed with only one hand to guide the broom. Of course, playing Seeker gobbled up massive swaths of one's focus. Many of the maneuvers a Seeker executed were done using only the knees to help control the broom. Good flyers made it look all too easy. Excellent flyers made it look effortless. Ginny strove for effortless. "Effortless effort" Oliver Wood was said to have called it. George once told her Oliver spent an entire hour one Saturday morning expounding on the virtues of attaining that elusive effortless effort. 'Weasley!' Ginny shook her head, as if gnats bothered her.

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On the pitch, Gwenog Jones planted her hands on her hips and glared at her newest recruit. She knew the girl was headstrong, but at the rate Ginny was going, she would wear herself out before the trial even started. 'Weasley!' she barked. Ginny spared a glance for the team's captain, and then paid her no mind. She began a move called a Woollongong Shimmy – a complex zigzagging maneuver that relied on the flyer's ability to turn on a Knut. Ginny wasn't quite there yet. Gwenog pointed her wand at her throat. 'Sonorus.' She tilted her head back. 'WEASLEY!' she bellowed, her voice magically amplified. 'GET YOUR ARSE DOWN HERE NOW!' Ginny came to a halt in mid-air, rubbing the side of her face over the shoulder of her sodden t-shirt, attempting to catch her breath. She directed her broom to the middle of the pitch, where Gwenog stood, arms crossed over her chest. Gwenog's eyes narrowed. 'I said you could practice, not kill yourself.' 'I'm fine,' Ginny panted. 'Get some rest tonight. ' 'I was planning on it,' Ginny replied icily. Gwenog handed her a handful of parchment. 'Information on living in Holyhead, if you want to live here. I suggest you organize a flat or a room in a pub before you report for training in two weeks.' It all came crashing back to Ginny. Somewhere to live. 'Thanks,' she said dully. 'I don't want to see you anywhere near a broom until tomorrow morning, eh?' She herded Ginny toward the players' changing room. 'You've got two bloody hard days ahead. Get a shower, eat a decent meal, and have a kip.' xxxxxx Ginny ran her hand through her damp hair, spreading it over her shoulders so it might dry faster. She stretched out on Charlie's rather lumpy sofa and closed her eyes. The rudimentary lunch she'd eaten after her shower littered the coffee table. She shifted this way and that, unable to settle. Deciding getting any sort of sleep just now was an exercise in futility, Ginny grabbed the stack of parchment Gwenog had given her and left the cabin. She started to walk to the entrance of the reservation, but changed her mind and doubled back to the infirmary. The building itself was a surprise. It looked like a low, dark building from the outside, but inside, the ceilings soared, allowing light and air inside. Bronwyn perched on a table, clad in green robes, her dark hair pulled back from her face, wrapping a bandage around another man's arm. 'There you are, Elliot. Now, keep it dry until tomorrow morning. You'll be good as new in a few days.' She tapped the end of the bandage with her wand to make it stick, then reached behind her for a square of parchment and waved her wand over it. 'There's a note for your supervisor. Light duty for the next three days.' She saw Ginny hovering in the doorway and waved her over. 'Come back before your next shift and we'll have a look at it.' The hapless Elliot left, holding his arm out gingerly in front of him. Bronwyn smiled brightly at Ginny. 'Thank Merlin! Other than Elliot, you're the only one I've seen for hours. Rather dull today around here, I'm afraid.' 'Charlie says you grew up here.' 'Yes, I did.' Ginny held up the parchment. 'I have this list of flats to let…' 'And you need an opinion, is that it?' Ginny nodded in reply, and Bronwyn held out a hand for the list. 'Why would you want to live in some dinky flat, when you can stay at home?' Ginny's nostrils flared and she reached for the parchment. 'Never mind…' Bronwyn held it out of Ginny's range. 'Now don't bite my head off. It's a perfectly legitimate question, considering you're not even eighteen yet.'

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'Have you any idea what it's like to go from a house full of people, to a school dormitory, then back to the house full of people? To never truly have a moment for yourself?' Ginny stared wistfully out of the window. 'Some people just don't seem to get that.' 'From what Charlie's told me, your family oughtn't to mind you moving here. Not if they let him hare off to Romania to play with dragons before he finished school.' 'It's not my mum and dad,' Ginny responded. 'Why are boys such idiots?' she asked suddenly. 'That's a question asked by women from time immortal.' Bronwyn tucked her feet under her, and settled comfortably on the table. 'In my experience, mostly because dragonkeepers tend to be men – very stubborn and tenacious men – they don't always see past the tip of their own nose when it comes to something they want.' 'Explains a lot,' Ginny muttered, then said nothing more. Bronwyn suspected there was more to Ginny's statement, but didn't pursue it, figuring if the girl wanted to talk about it, she would in her own time. She examined the list of addressees and reached back for a quill. 'I'll cross off the ones you might want to avoid.' 'Dodgy, eh?' "Hmmm. I wouldn't say dodgy, exactly, but unless you're willing to live with ghouls in the attics, or want to fight with the witch or wizard who owns the building over the fact you've gone ahead and repaired the leaky taps, then I wouldn't live there.' 'Thank you,' Ginny said sincerely. 'I mean, I've only just met you this morning, and…' Bronwyn shrugged. 'If I had a younger sister about to do what you're doing, I'd want someone to lend a hand here and there, too.' She saw the subtle stiffening of Ginny body and filed it in the back of her head. 'Better go and have a look at those flats before it gets too late. You might not feel up to it later this week.' 'Right…' Ginny tucked the parchment into the pocket of her jeans. 'Thanks again.' She trotted out of the infirmary, Bronwyn following at a slower pace. She watched Ginny head for the entrance of the reservation. She intrigued Bronwyn, making her wonder if all of Charlie's family were a curious mixture of pride and stubbornness. Or perhaps it was a product of being not only the youngest of a large family, but the only daughter with several much older brothers. Charlie hadn't really ever said, but Bronwyn fancied he hadn't had much as a child. Unlike most of the others on the reservation, he seemed perfectly content with the somewhat shabby, lumpy reservation-issued sofa and scarred kitchen table. From what she'd seen of his wardrobe, he kept his clothes until they were little more than rags, and from the looks of Ginny that morning, she had more than her fair share of clothes handed down to her or bought secondhand. Despite living most of her life in the maledominated worlds of Healers and dragonkeepers, one thing Bronwyn knew very well was how harshly women could judge each other. Her shift couldn't end too soon. xxxxxx Bronwyn sprinted across the valley to Charlie's cabin. She arrived winded and gasping for breath. Exercise for her normally consisted of a brisk walk. People who liked running were touched in their head as far as Bronwyn was concerned. The door of Charlie's cabin would be open. Very few of them bothered with locks or charms at the reservation. She slipped into the cabin and pulled her robes off, revealing a pair of jeans and a cotton tunic. She carefully opened the door of the cabin's single bedroom, and edged into the darkened bedroom. Bronwyn quietly shut the door and stood with her eyes shut, counting slowly to ten. When she opened her eyes, she could make out the dim outlines of the bureau and bed. She didn't blame him for keeping the window charmed to block light. She often did the same thing when she had the overnight shift in the infirmary. Bronwyn crawled onto Charlie's bed. 'Charlie, wake up…' She ran a fingertip lightly around the outer edge of his ear. 'Come on, Charlie…' Charlie grunted and jerked his head away from Bronwyn's feathery touch. 'Wha…?' 'What's your sister wearing tomorrow?'

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Charlie blinked blearily at her. 'Dunno.' 'Well she certainly can't go in those ratty jog pants. They're almost indecent,' Bronwyn said crisply. 'Haaah?' Charlie was still groggily attempting to make sense of what she said. 'It's a girl sort of thing,' Bronwyn added helpfully. 'Has she any other clothes to wear to the trial?' Charlie hitched himself up against the headboard of the bed, Bronwyn's insistent questions finally working their way through the mental cotton wool wrapped around his brain. 'Dunno, and I'm not goin' to look through her things to fin' out.' 'Have you got any gold here?' 'In the tea tin in the back of the cupboard over the stove.' Charlie frowned. 'Why?' 'You'll find out,' Bronwyn told him, kissing him full on the mouth. 'I'll be back within the hour.' She clambered off the bed. 'Ginny's about my size, is she not?' Charlie slid back down into the bed, and pulled the bedding over his head. He opened one eye, squinting at Bronwyn. 'Just about.' 'Excellent. Go back to sleep.' Bronwyn left the bedroom, scooping up the robes she's tossed over the sofa. xxxxxx Ginny warmed her hands around the mug of tea. She didn't really want it, but she took it nonetheless to give herself something to do. She took a few perfunctory sips to be polite. Bronwyn had made the tea, just as she had the meal, and while they were both good, Ginny had to force herself to do more than nibble, recognizing the nascent flutters of butterflies in her stomach. The company was good, as well. Bronwyn was able to draw actual conversation from Charlie, not just monosyllabic grunts. Pleading exhaustion, Ginny excused herself to bed, and threw herself across the neatly made bed. She'd found a flat that afternoon. It was small studio flat, with a cramped kitchen and small bathroom. But to Ginny it was palatial. She could barely contain her glee at the prospect of having her own bathroom. Her own space. She could probably scrounge some furniture from the attic. She didn't need much beyond a bureau, bed, and a table. Molly would help her shop for bedding and a few odds and ends for the kitchen. The flat itself was a little dark, tucked under the eaves of an old building, but Ginny didn't mind. It was hers. She fell asleep, fantasizing of the luxurious baths she would be able to have when she moved in two weeks' time. xxxxxx 'Getting late,' Charlie commented. Bronwyn waved him off. 'Is she coming back out?' 'Doubt it.' Bronwyn reached for her bag, and pulled out carrier bag from a Muggle shop in Cardiff. 'This ought to do for the next couple of days.' Charlie peered inside, nodding in mute approval. 'Is she always so resistant to offers of help?' Bronwyn added, retrieving her own tea. Charlie raised his mug to his lips. 'Dunno.' 'You aren't sure, because she's never been like this before, or you honestly do not know?' Charlie set his mug next to his feet. 'I was almost nine when Gin was born. Left for school when she was three and starting to get interesting. Only saw her on holidays, then I left for Romania before her ninth birthday. I saw her the next year at Christmas. She was ten. Next time I saw her, she was thirteen, during the Ireland-Bulgaria World Cup. Didn't see her again until she was sixteen.' Charlie shrugged. 'How well do you think I know her?' He picked up the mug and swallowed the tea left inside. 'Have to go. Adam's on a rampage about blokes showing up to the overnight shift late.' 'Charlie…'

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'Thanks for getting this for her,' Charlie nudged the carrier bag. 'Charlie…' 'Could you put it in the kitchen for me? Thanks.' Charlie disappeared into the fog-shrouded night before Bronwyn could say another word. xxxxxx Ginny stretched, keeping her eyes tightly shut against the sunlight streaming through the thin curtains. The scent of frying bacon slipped under the door and teased her nostrils. The gurgle of anticipation in her stomach soon transformed into a rumble of unease. She pried her eyes open and stared at the gently ticking clock on Charlie's bedside table. Eight o'clock. Her trial with Holyhead would begin in a mere two hours. She swung her feet to the floor and stood, then slowly rolled down to touch the floor next to her feet. She laid both palms flat against the braided rug and gradually straightened her knees, breathing deeply. Carefully, contracting the muscles of her abdomen, she began the process of standing upright, one vertebra at a time. She tiptoed to the door and opened it a little, peering through the crack, as she had done so often as a small child when Charlie and Bill were home for the holidays. 'Morning,' she said softly. Charlie looked up from the eggs he stirred in a pan, cooking them the Muggle way. 'Morning.' He slid some of them on a waiting plate, and held it toward Ginny. 'Hungry?' 'I guess.' Ginny accepted the plate and gingerly sat on the edge of a chair at the table. Charlie inspected her for a moment. 'You look pale,' he commented, watching her pick at her breakfast. 'Nervous,' Ginny said shortly. 'Hmmm.' Charlie silently finished cooking his eggs and joined Ginny at the table. 'Could do the trite thing and tell you to just do your best.' 'I think I'd like that.' Charlie buttered a piece of toast. 'Just do your best, yeah?' 'I really want to be on the Reserve squad,' Ginny admitted. 'Will you be happy if you end up on the practice squad?' 'I suppose. Better than nothing.' She shrugged. 'Probably not.' Charlie hid a smile behind his toast. 'You want the Reserve squad, then do it. What do you have to lose?' He indicated Ginny's half-eaten breakfast. 'If you're done with that, why don't you go grab a shower? Get to the pitch early and warm up a little.' 'Okay…' Ginny scooped up her plate and carried it into the kitchen and dropped it in the sink, Vanishing the remains of the food. Charlie waited until he heard the water running, then went to a cupboard, and dug out a parcel, wrapped in plain brown paper. He didn't have anything more festive. He quickly scrawled Ginny's name on the parcel, and placed it on the small table, then resumed his meal. Presently, Ginny emerged from the bathroom with an accompanying cloud of steam, dressed in the ragged jog pants she'd worn the day before. Bronwyn was right, Charlie thought with a small pang. He unfolded himself from the chair and headed for his bathroom, wanting a hot shower before he went to sleep. 'Play like you do with us. You'll be fine.' The bathroom door closed firmly behind him. Ginny plopped to the floor to put her trainers on when she saw the parcel on the table. Convinced it hadn't been there before, she craned her head to examine it, smiling when she saw her name written on it. She picked apart the twine holding the paper together, revealing a pair of black track pants and a dark blue race bra top. She frowned, searching the wrappings for a card or note, feeling her hopes rise. A wave of disappointment rippled through her when she found the envelope bearing her name in Charlie's scrawl, rather than Harry's angular hand. She tamped down the melancholy. She had no time for such emotions right now. Ginny carefully folded the track pants and bra top and slid them into her bag. She picked her up wand from the table and took her broom down from the hooks next to the door.

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Time to go. xxxxxx The Harpies' changing room was, to Ginny's admittedly limited standards, hedonistic. A place for her belongings. Numerous benches to sit and prepare for a match. Several shower stalls, fronted with opaque glass doors, lined with clean white tiles. Piles of plush dark green towels. Green and gold accent tiles dotted the floors and walls. In comparison, the Hogwarts' changing room was little more than a tool shed. 'Blimey,' she breathed. 'Who're you?' Ginny looked up. A woman who looked as if she was in her late twenties sat on the floor, stretching. 'Ginny.' 'Ginny…?' the witch prompted. 'Ginny Weasley.' A hush descended over the room. Ten pairs of eyes swiveled in her direction. 'How old are you?' another witch called. 'Almost eighteen.' Ginny set her bag down on a vacant bench and bent to untie her trainers. She decided the best course of action was to not let the other, and obviously older, witches intimidate her. Or at least not let them think they were intimidating her. 'Eighteen,' a witch in a far corner muttered. 'Bet she makes the Reserves,' she added in an undertone to her companion. 'You know, because of who she is.' Ginny lowered the old jog pants and shimmied into the new track pants. Don't let them get to you… She hauled the oversized t-shirt over her head and slipped the bra top on, wriggling out of her bra once the bra top was in place. She flicked her wand at the discarded clothes, and they crammed themselves into her bag. She tossed the bag into the locker in front of her and tapped it with her wand. It locked with a soft click, and a small, round disc glowed brightly. 'Press your thumb to it,' a witch advised. Ginny glanced at her. She seemed to be close to Ginny's age and hadn't joined in the discontented murmurs. 'That way the charm locking the door can't be easily broken.' Ginny reached out and pressed her right thumb to the disc. 'Why do that?' 'Rivalries can get intense,' the witch replied. 'There have been instances where a visiting team breaks into the home team's changing room and mucks about with their things. I'm Julia, by the way. My friends call me Jules.' Julia wriggled her hands into her gloves. 'What position?' 'Chaser.' 'Play another one? I hear Gwenog likes players who can play more than one position.' 'I can play Seeker if need be.' Ginny worked her arms behind her head and began to weave her hair into a tight plait. 'You?' 'Beater, mostly. I don't do too badly at Keeper, but I can't find a Snitch if my life depended on it, and Quaffles always seem to slip through my fingers.' Julia watched in fascination as Ginny bound the end of the plait and tossed it over her shoulder. 'You always have hair that long?' 'Yeah.' Ginny picked up a roll of tape and carefully wrapped her wrists and the joints of her fingers. 'It doesn't get in the way?' Julia ran a hand through her closely cropped hair. 'Not usually.' Ginny slid her gloves over her hands, bending and stretching her fingers to settle them over her palms. 'Well, good luck, then.' Julia held out a hand. Ginny gazed at it for a moment, then grasped it. 'Seeing as how we're not going for the same position, eh?' For a moment, a cold, slightly menacing expression came over Julia's face. Ginny felt a bit of relief that she wasn't a Beater. She had a feeling Julia wouldn't let anyone stand in her way. 'Yeah. Luck to you, as well.' Ginny didn't add, We're going to need it. She didn't have to.

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