Unofficial Portkey Archive

Love Will Come Through

Chapter Ten: Ashamed

When Harry awoke, muscles aching and head groggy from a restless night's sleep on a camp bed that was rather uncomfortable- maybe the Room of Requirement was punishing him for something, he pondered- Hermione had already vanished, the sheets and pillow upon which she had laid crinkled, long, wavy brown hairs lying upon them. The pillow was also, he noted sadly, stained, and he remembered hearing faint sniffling while he had laid half-conscious in the middle of the night, awake enough to recognize but not awake enough to understand.

He poked his head out of the door, but no one was to be seen. It was still raining heavily, and the skies were so dark with cloud Harry had no way of telling what the time was. Sighing, he closed the door behind it, and it disappeared immediately, its use now defunct.

As Harry made his way back up Gryffindor Tower it became apparent that it was already mid-morning; he heard classes chattering behind doors, and, at one point, a teacher's loud yell. However, Harry had no idea where he was supposed to be, and so had little option but to go back to his dormitory, where his timetable lay somewhere within his bag. His stomach howled in protest but Harry ignored it.

He needn't have bothered. When he finally made it to the Charms classroom, he found that Professor Flitwick had surrendered the last day of term to fun and games, and most of the class was chattering noisily amongst themselves, Dean and Neville engaging in a particularly violent game of chess. Flitwick waved aside Harry's apologies and went back into his doze; Harry, for want of anything else to do, sat down beside Seamus to watch the chess game.

Hermione was sat alone on the other side of the room, her head buried in a book; he doubted very much whether she had seen him come in, though her cheeks did have a suspiciously pink tinge about them. Ron was nowhere to be seen.

Professor McGonagall was not so kind; when Seamus complained that Flitwick had let them have fun she went into a stern lecture about the importance of NEWTs and they spent the lesson revising their work from the previous year. Once again, Ron was nowhere to be seen.

Ginny soon explained that. "He's gone home," she told him, chewing absently on a mouthful of steak and kidney pie, "couldn't bear to stay a minute longer, apparently." She rolled her eyes. "What happened to you last night, anyway? Neville said your bed wasn't slept in," she said, looking suspiciously at Harry.

Harry hoped his face didn't show his misery. He leant forward so only Ginny and Neville could hear him, and told them what had happened. He was halfway through the story when he wondered whether he should be telling them at all; but, he rationalized, they'd been loyal and helpful throughout this whole thing, why shouldn't they know? Nevertheless, he couldn't help feeling slightly uncomfortable when he saw Hermione slide onto the end of the opposite bench in the corner of his eye.

Neville looked rather embarrassed as Harry told his story; Ginny simply looked rather shocked, but as Harry came to a finish she seemed to have become rather resolved.

"Well," she said quietly, putting down the fork she had been holding in mid-air for several minutes, the food had been holding long consumed, "at least now I know why you were all so angry with each other."

Harry frowned. "What d'you mean?"

"I caught you and Hermione fighting a few days before you left," she explained calmly. "You both denied it, of course, but it was obvious- plus there was the fact that Ron was trying to pretend neither of you existed."

Harry nodded vaguely, but Neville looked concerned. "Is Hermione alright? She's been awfully distant all day-"

"Of course she's not alright, Neville," Ginny said with a withering glance, "didn't you hear what Harry said? I better go and talk to her," she said, swinging her legs over the bench and running off down to where Hermione was sitting, hunched over a bowl of steaming soup.

Neville turned to Harry. "Are you alright?" he said pointedly.

Harry squirmed uncomfortably. "Fine," he said unconvincingly.

Neville raised an eyebrow. "I may not be very good at Potions, Harry, but I'm not an idiot."

Harry looked at him. "That's not true. You are good at Potions. You got that one perfectly the other day."

"That's not the point, Harry," insisted Neville, though he blushed and gave a small smile at the praise. "It must have been very… confusing for you," he continued tactfully, "finding out like that."

"What, and having everyone else find out at the same time as well?" Harry said bitterly, glaring up the table, where some third years were chattering as they stared at him.

Neville bit his lip. "Well, that too," he admitted in a small voice.

Harry suddenly bashed his clenched fist against the table, making Neville jump and several people nearby look round. "It's just too bloody hard, Neville," Harry said in a low voice, running a hand through his hair. "I'm exhausted."

"You can't give-"

"Up," Harry finished for him, eyes flashing. "Yes, I know that, Neville," he said flatly. "Doesn't mean I can't feel like I want to."

"Harry, it'll be okay, everything will work out, we'll find a way-"

"Shut up!" said Harry loudly, causing more swift glances. "Just shut up, okay?" he said again, lowering his voice slightly. "I don't want to hear it. Stop lying to me," he said forcefully. "Everything won't be okay, it's a fucking mess, and I can't do it any more," he said, voice cracking, and before Neville could do anything else Harry had swivelled off the bench and fled the Great Hall, the delighted catcalls of Malfoy ringing over the din.

Neville put his head in his hands and didn't emerge until he felt a soft touch on his arm, and a gentle whisper in his ear. He looked up. Ginny smiled weakly.

"Is Harry okay? I heard-"

"Did he look okay?" said Neville coarsely. Ginny's eyes flashed warningly and he coughed. "What did Hermione say?"

Ginny looked decidedly miserable. "She's leaving," she said regretfully, glancing back at Hermione. "Going home for Christmas, she says she needs a break."

Neville sighed. "Probably a good idea," he said, making Ginny start with surprise. "Harry said he was exhausted too," he added.

"Fuck," said Ginny in exasperation. "Sorry," she said quickly at Neville's frown. "But, it's just… how are they going to get anywhere if they stop trying?"

Neville put a hand on hers as it rested on the table. It was a mark of her preoccupation that she didn't even seem to notice this. "It's only a couple of weeks, Ginny," he said placidly. "It's probably a good idea for them to take a break; step back and breathe," he added. "And then come back and try again."

Ginny nodded sadly. "I suppose," she said, sniffing. She looked up at Neville. "Are you staying?" she asked abruptly.

Neville sighed. "I can't," he said sullenly. "I promise Gran I'd go home- first holiday without the shadow of You-Know-Who, you know, she's having a big do," he said, his expression showing exactly what he thought of this idea.

Ginny nodded glumly. "That's okay," she said kindly.

Neville frowned slightly. "What about you?" he asked.

"Well, someone has to stay with Harry, don't they?" she said dutifully. "Besides, I don't think Ron and I could live in such close proximity for a fortnight," she said, eyes darkening. "It's bad enough here."

Neville mumbled in agreement. "Yeah," he said listlessly. "Is your mum okay with that?"

Ginny waved a dismissive hand in the air. "She's not exactly pleased that Ron and I are fighting," she said bitterly, "but she thinks it's good of me to stay with Harry. She asked him to come to ours for Christmas, but, you know… Ron…"

Neville leant his head against his palm, elbow propping him up as he slumped over the table. "What a mess," he said sadly.

Ginny could only nod.

*~*~*

"Hey hey, little bro!"

"How is our ickle Ronniekins?"

Ron groaned. He was, to put it bluntly, stuffed. His mother had outdone herself again- Ron hadn't been able to resist the magnificent spread she'd put out for Christmas dinner, and, what with their unusually depleted numbers (no Ginny, or Harry, and Charlie was stuck overseas for the holiday), it had fallen to Ron to eat up the remainder of the foods on offer. So now here he sat, stomach expanding and contracting vengefully, meaning he'd had to excuse himself from Celestia Warbeck's radio concert and go and lie down.

But now Fred and George had burst into his room, and Ron was so inert that he couldn't do a thing to stop them. "Bugger off," he grunted.

George waved a petulant finger in his face. "Now, now, Ronnie, language," he said with a smirk. "What would our mother say?"

Fred's face appeared behind his brother's. From Ron's position it was as though they were two humans looking in at a fish bowl- very intimidating. Fred smiled. "Our mother doesn't know the half of it, Georgie," he said wickedly. Ron groaned again.

"What the hell do you want from me?" he moaned.

Fred put a hand to his chest in fake shock. "Us?" he said innocently. "We only want to talk to you, Ron," he said angelically.

Ron had the distinct feeling he wasn't going to enjoy this one bit. "About?" he asked gruffly.

George was now sitting at the end of his bed. "Ginny."

"And Harry," added Fred.

George nodded gravely. "And Hermione."

Ron's eyes widened in panic. "Why?" he said uselessly.

George looked at Fred. "I think he should be sitting up for this, Fred," he said pointedly, and Fred immediately seized the front of Ron's fuzzy jumper and yanked his brother upwards. Ron squealed.

"Ow!" He glared at Fred, who just smiled as he leant Ron back against the headboard. Ron sighed. "If you're going to do that, can't you do something about my stomach ache?" he complained.

George slid along the bed and shook his head. "Oh no, Ronnie, we're not having you running out on us," he said suspiciously. "You're going to stay here and have a nice, uncomfortable chat with us."

"Now," said Fred, "why are you fighting with Ginny?"

Ron just stared at him with narrowed eyes.

"Okay," said George, "we'll try a different question. Why did you sabotage the attempt to rescue Harry's memory?"

Ron growled. "I did not sabotage anything," he said crossly. "Ginny's just being a bitch."

Fred raised an eyebrow. "That's our sister you're talking about there, Ronnie," he said, a definite note of warning in his voice. "I'd watch yourself if I were you."

George nodded. "Let's try this again, shall we?" he said airily. "Why did you stop talking to Harry and Hermione before they left to see to the mean old dark wizard?"

Ron said nothing. George looked to Fred. "I think he needs some persuading, Fred," he commented. Fred nodded, and picked something from his pocket. Waving it before Ron's eyes, he said, "This, Ron, is one of our Super-Strength Stinkbombs. I'm sure you recognise it. And I'm sure you know how dreadfully it smells." Ron didn't move. "Now," continued Fred, "if you don't tell us what we want to know, Ron, we will let off ten of these in this room." Ron's eyes widened immediately. "I don't think I need to tell you what'll happen then."

"You can't do that," said Ron quickly, "mum'll kill you."

George just smiled. "I don't think so, Ron. You see, mum is fully informed of the situation, and she agrees with us. She thinks you're in dire need of having some sense knocked into you. And, to calm her last worry, we assured her that the stink would be cleverly confined to just this room."

Ron's eyes darted around in panic. "You wouldn't," he said weakly.

Fred grinned. "I think you know we would, Ronald," he said sweetly. "Now, are you going to tell us what we want to know?"

Ron glared at them, but after a few seconds his head dropped, and when he lifted it back up it looked decidedly miserable. "Fine," he said despondently.

Fred smiled contentedly and dropped the Stinkbomb back into his pocket. "Excellent."

"So," George said, "why are you fighting with Ginny?"

Ron sighed. "I don't even know any more," he said sadly.

Fred frowned. "Alright, then, do you know why Ginny is upset with you?"

Ron nodded glumly. "Because I was angry with Harry," he said heavily. "And because she thinks I dropped the wand."

"Why did you?" George asked.

Ron moaned. "I already told you, I didn't!" he protested. "It was shaking, it was too hard to hold onto!" He shook in his agitation and almost fell over the side of his bed. Fred put out his hand to push him back again.

"Alright," said Fred placatingly, "we believe you. But that doesn't explain why you were angry with Harry in the first place."

Ron squirmed. "It's private," he mumbled.

"What's that?" said George with a hand at his ear.

"It's private," he said again, louder.

Fred looked surprised. "Private, eh?" He put his hand in his pocket. "Need I remind you what's in here?"

Ron gave the most excruciatingly pained expression and growled. "Alright," he said eventually in a very tight tone of voice. "I suppose the entirety of Gryffindor already knows anyway," he added. He paused, pushed himself awkwardly into a more comfortable position, and closed his eyes.

"Alright, Ron, it's not a dramatic reading, get on with it," said George impatiently. Ron opened his eyes and they flashed in annoyance.

"Okay," began Ron, avoiding their eyes. "I suppose you already know I wasn't exactly very happy with Harry and Hermione being together in the first place," he said, and the withering looks he received were more than enough confirmation of that. "Well, it wasn't as if I wasn't talking to them or anything, I mean, I still wanted to be their friend even if they did keep kissing each other." He made a disgusted face. "And then one night they weren't anywhere, and no one had seen them. So I went looking for them. I tried everywhere- the library, the hospital wing, the kitchens, even Hagrid's. But they weren't anywhere.

"So I went to the last place they could possibly be. The Room of Requirement." Fred's eyebrows went up in realization, but he let Ron carry on. "There was no door, but I told it that I needed to find Harry and Hermione- I mean, they could've run off to fight Voldemort without telling anyone and died, for all I knew," he said, frowning darkly, as if they'd done just that. "But no," he said, voice becoming more edgy and eyes clouding blackly, "they were having sex." He said this very bitterly, almost forcing the last words out.

George's eyes widened in surprise; Fred suppressed a laugh. Ron glared at him. "Well, I'm glad you think it's funny," he said angrily.

Fred straightened his face and tried to look very concerned. "I'm sorry," he said, mouth still twitching. "It's just… that's why you were mad at them? Because they had sex?"

Ron stared at him. "Yes," he said blankly.

Fred sighed and put a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Ron, Ron, Ron," he said gently. "That's what generally happens when two people fall in love: eventually, they express this love through the physical act of sex. It's a natural urge, Ron; I'm surprised you haven't felt it yourself."

George sniggered.

Ron glared at him again. "I'm not stupid," he said hotly. "It's just…" he paused, and his face softened. "I think that seeing them, like that... it was like the final nail in the coffin. They were really together."

George sighed. "Ron, are you blind as well as stupid? They'd been together for over a year."

Fred held up a hand. "Shush, George. I understand, Ron," he said, nodding gravely. "Seeing them like that meant that there was no chance for you any more, am I right?"

Ron regarded his brother for a moment, sniffed, and finally nodded. Fred patted his shoulder warmly.

"Did really ever think there was?" he asked quietly.

Ron sighed. "I guess not," he answered glumly. "But why didn't she want me?" he asked, and Fred was alarmed to see tears welling in his brother's eyes.

George scooted nearer. "Life doesn't always work out the way you want it to," he said wisely, "but you have to learn to accept the way it does work out. Do you believe in fate?"

Ron, startled by this question, looked up with a frown, but when George simply looked questioningly at him, he nodded slowly.

"Okay," said George, not seeming surprised by this response, "then Hermione wasn't the one you were meant to be with. She was meant to be with Harry. And there's someone out there who's meant to be with you," he added, patting Ron's knee comfortingly.

Ron blinked. "Do you believe in fate?" he questioned.

George smiled sheepishly. "Well, no," he admitted, "but that doesn't mean it's not true."

Fred laughed. Ron rolled his eyes, discreetly wiping them of tears.

"Right," said Fred purposefully, "now that we understand you, Ron, we can deal with you." Ron gulped. Fred laughed. "There's no need to be scared, Ronnie! We're here to help."

George nodded. "Unless you're going to tell us you're happy being mad with everyone and being a moody-arsed recluse," he said pointedly. Ron gave him a sullen glare but said nothing. "Thought so."

Fred leant forward. "Now, I know it's hard, Ron, but you have to move past this. We know you miss having Harry and Hermione as friends, and I'm sure they miss you too- well, the nice you," he said.

Ron nodded dolefully.

"Can you apologise to them?" George asked seriously. Ron paused, then nodded again. "Good. And to Ginny?" Ron sighed, and inclined his head. "And can you try to be okay with Harry and Hermione being together?" Ron grunted. "I'll take that as a yes."

Fred grinned cheerfully. "Excellent," he said, rubbing his hands together. "Well, George, I think our work here is done," he commented, standing up. "Don't forget, Ron, we'll be monitoring the situation closely," he added warningly, walking with George to the door.

Ron groaned and held out a hand. "Wait!" he cried. They looked back. Ron gestured to his growling stomach. "Can't you…?"

Fred laughed. "Oh, we don't know the spell, you'll have to ask mum," he said lightly, closing the door, and Ron's eyes widened- in his haste to attack his brother, he fell off the bed and it took him several minutes to stand up again.

*~*~*

Harry stared out of the window. The wind was still a biting cold, whipping the plummeting rain into circular frenzies, wildly hitting the glass at all sorts of angles. Clearly the weather made no allowances for holidays- for all of Christmas Day it had rained as hard as ever, and Hagrid had arrived looking even more bedraggled than usual, having trekked through the storms for the traditional feast at one o'clock. As it had in Harry's third year, the number of students remaining at Hogwarts was so few- most had gone home to celebrate Voldemort's downfall with their families- that the house tables had been replaced with a smaller one in the centre of the hall; though, with Professor McGonagall as headmistress instead of Dumbledore, the meal proved to be a lot less entertaining.

The only other Gryffindors remaining along with Harry and Ginny were two meek second year girls, who had nevertheless proven quite fun at Exploding Snap, and Harry had managed to forget all his problems for the few hours they spent wiling away by the crackling fire. But now the second years had gone to bed, and Harry was left with his thoughts, Ginny, and a rather uncomfortable atmosphere.

The fire was dying, and so Harry's face was clouded in darkness, meaning that Ginny's glances of concern revealed nothing whatsoever to her. He could see her out of the corner of his eye, slumped down on a sofa, feet dangling in front of the fire, head resting in the palm of her supported hand. The presence of the second years all day had proved a convenient way of avoiding having to talk about anything- for in the few days since everyone else had left, their discussions had become strangely strained and difficult, and, though Harry was glad for all the help Ginny had given, he couldn't help feeling that her attitude towards him had shifted. Her reassuring touches were always quickly withdrawn, her eyes couldn't seem to meet his, and she had been staying in her dormitory as much as she could possibly manage.

Not that he was behaving much better. Less people and little to do meant he was left to his thoughts, which circulated constantly, never coming to conclusions, and his dreams, always featuring taunting images of Hermione, and reminders of the person he had used to be.

He turned from the window, softly walking back over to the fire. He threw some wood onto it and poked it roughly, the resulting flare of light making Ginny look up at him.

"What time is it?" she asked, sounding tired.

Harry pushed the sleeve of his new Weasley jumper back and squinted at his watch. "Quarter to twelve," he said eventually, lowering himself into a plush armchair opposite Ginny's sofa. She yawned slightly, and swung her legs up onto the sofa, resting her head on the armrest, rolling it so it faced Harry.

"We should go to bed," she said vaguely, ironically settling even deeper into her new position.

Harry smiled to himself. "Yeah," he answered just as distantly, studying her. Was now the time? It seemed absurd, but suddenly he felt he couldn't bear not to understand the way she was acting anymore; and now, when her defences were down, might be the moment he got the truth.

"Ginny," he said slowly, and she blinked, smiling at him, "are you alright?"

Her lips curled curiously. "I'm fine," she said, still sounding sleepy, "why wouldn't I be?"

He sat up, body more rigid and imposing. "You've been acting… odd," he said, biting his thumbnail absently. "I just wondered why."

Ginny's eyes immediately shifted, and she seemed to be looking over his head rather than at it; her cheeks, he thought, seemed to have gone a bit pink, though it was hard to tell in the flickering golden light. "What d'you mean?" she said rather shakily.

Harry chewed slightly harder on his thumbnail before answering. "It feels like you're drawing away from me."

The colour in Ginny's cheeks was definitely rising. Her mouth opened and closed several times before she finally said "I'm not", which meant Harry certainly didn't believe her.

He leant forward. "You are," he said firmly, as her head rolled away to stare at the ceiling. "Please," he added pleadingly, and he saw her hand twitching uncomfortably, catching in the flickering firelight.

There was no sound except the crackles of the burning wood for almost a minute, but Harry could sense the internal struggle in Ginny, and knew he had to wait. Eventually, her voice sounded, quiet and cracking. "I can't."

He frowned. "Why?"

"I just can't," she said, more loudly and forcefully.

He was so near to the edge of his chair he almost fell off. "Ginny," he said, voice rather terse, "don't do this. I know you think, for whatever reason, that it's for the best, but it isn't. Don't tear even more people apart. I need you."

Ginny's hand went to her face for a second; if Harry hadn't known better, he would've thought she was brushing away a tear. Finally, slowly, she sat up, her face turned to his again. She looked torn apart. "But you don't understand," she said, voice thick, "I can't tell you. Please, don't make me…"

Harry could see she was floundering. He slipped off the floor onto his knees and slowly hobbled across to kneel at her head; she slid backwards, but their faces were still in such close proximity that their noses were almost touching. "Gin," he said softly, "you have to tell me."

A single tear ran down towards her ear, clinging onto her shining hair, and her words were a whisper. "I'm in love with you."

Harry stared at her. Unconsciously, he fell back, feet buckling under the sudden weight of his body. "You… what?" he said, gaping at her.

Ginny took a deep, ragged breath. "You see? This is going to tear us apart anyway," she said sadly.

Harry, still rather shocked, shook his head vehemently. "No it won't," he said firmly. "I won't let it."

Ginny looked at him rather despairingly, and ran a hand through her hair in frustration. "It's not that easy, Harry," she said quietly. "How can things be the same? You know," she said, sounding hopeless, "and how can I possibly look at you when you know that?" She brushed another tear away. "I'm a horrible person," she said in a deadly whisper.

Harry instinctively put a hand on her face. "No!" he protested firmly, shaking his head. "How can you say that? Love isn't a thing to feel guilty about. Love is a wonderful thing, to be celebrated."

Ginny's eyes burned. "Exactly. How can we celebrate this? You love Hermione, and I'm so stupid for feeling this-"

Harry put a finger on her lips. "You are not stupid," he said softly, "you are a funny, kind, beautiful person, and it makes me feel humbled that you would choose me, of all people, to love."

Ginny couldn't help but smile. Her mouth seemed to be forming words but none came; instead, she just looked at him, her eyes reflecting the golden light of the fire, her mouth a rosy circle, her smile surprised and loving. Their noses were touching. Harry wasn't sure how he'd reached this position, but he suddenly didn't seem to be able to move out of it; he stared into her dancing eyes, he saw her blink, he felt her soft, thick lips gently pressing against his own…

"No." He jerked backwards, the taste she'd barely impressed lingering on his own lips.

But she didn't look upset; rather, she looked ashamed, and now the tears that were streaming down her face went unhindered, and she looked so small, so pitiful, sitting curled up in the corner of the sofa, the firelight fading as the flames slowly died; and he sat beside her, and put his arm around her, and she cried into his shoulder, the last secret finally hanging in the air around them.

*~*~*

A/N: Once again, thank you if you reviewed, even it was critical- it can only help me grow! We're now in motion towards the conclusion- only two or three chapters left. You should be getting the next chapter in under a week, so let me know what you think of this one by scrolling down a smidgen and typing a few words. Thanks!