Disclaimer: I own nothing; it all belongs to J.K.Rowling. I’m just borrowing the characters to play with for a while. This is for pleasure only, no profit is being made, and no copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Eighteen

Quidditch, Anyone?

As darkness descended across the sky, and the lanterns within Hogwarts lit themselves, Harry sat unmoving in a chair by Ginny’s bedside. He’d been sitting there since late that afternoon, when Madam Pomfrey had announced that Ginny would recover. Two of her ribs were broken, and she’d sustained injuries to several of her internal organs. Madam Pomfrey had been giving her Blood Replenishing Potions since she’d arrived, but she had yet to regain consciousness.

Ron’s shoulder had been quickly cleaned and healed. He’d wanted to stay and wait for Ginny to wake up, as well, but Madam Pomfrey had insisted she’d give him a Sleeping Draught if he planned on staying. She wanted him back in his dormitory, cleaned up and resting. Ron had grumbled on the way out, but Harry could see how tired he was. Madam Pomfrey had tried to send Harry on his way, as well. She’d promised to notify him as soon as Ginny awoke, but he wasn’t budging. So, here he sat, in his dirty clothes stained with Ginny’s blood, staring at her still form and willing her to awake.

He hated to see her this way. Ginny was supposed to be vibrant and full of life. Her eyes always sparkled – whether it was with fire when she was angry or glee when she was causing mischief – and he wanted to see that sparkle now. Her beautiful red hair was fanned out across the pillow, and Harry thought she looked like a princess he’d seen in one of Dudley’s storybooks when he was small. Dudley never cared much for the books, so Harry always got to look through the pictures.

He shifted in his seat again. Truth be told, his back ached, and the leg he was sitting on had gone numb a long time ago. He longed for a hot shower to relieve the soreness and tension in his muscles, but he couldn’t leave her. How many times had she sat in this very position, waiting for him to awaken after an injury? He glanced guiltily over at the empty bed beneath the sign bearing his name. He’d left the Ministry uninjured, but he’d easily trade places now if it meant Ginny would be all right.

He reached his hand over and threaded her fingers with his own, wishing she'd squeeze him back in reply. His thumb gently caressed the side of her hand while he absently ran his other hand through her hair. He was always amazed by how soft her hair was, and he loved to trail his fingers through it. He loved anything that involved touching her, and anything that involved her touching him.

The Dursleys had never been affectionate, and he’d always been rather uncomfortable with physical contact. Hermione and Mrs. Weasley were the first people to hug him, but it was Ginny who was the first to really touch him and the first he actually sought to touch. Once he’d begun, he’d found it amazingly hard to stop and craved her presence next to him all the time. She’d started by running her fingers through his hair when she used to comfort him after his nightmares after Sirius had died, and he still enjoyed when she did. As he thought about it, he realized he was now doing the same thing to her hair.

“Please wake up, Ginny. I’m worried about you, and I want you to tell me you’re all right. I need you so much. I want you to smile and tell me I can do what I have to do, and in the same moment tell me I’m a prat and that I can’t do something simple – like sneak down to the kitchen without getting caught.”

Harry sniffled slightly, leaning in closer to her. “You mean so much to me, Ginny. You pulled me back when I was so close to the edge last year. Remember that stupid after-party when I got pissed and told you I had a crush on you? You never called me on it; you let me work it out in my own time. Hermione told me you’d given up on me…but you hadn’t really, and I still don’t know why. I’m certainly not worth that kind of devotion – or loyalty – or whatever it was. Even when I knew I was attracted to you, I fought it, but you never left. You’ve always been there, right under my nose, even though I was blind for so long. You changed my world, Ginny, and I can’t go back to the way I used to be – I don’t want to. Don’t…” Harry stopped, taking a deep breath. “Don’t leave me, Gin.

“I wish…I wish I could offer you everything; anything your heart desires, I’d do if I could. But…but…sniff…but in reality, I can offer you nothing but hope. I hope that one day I’ll be able to give you everything you need, Ginny. Just give me some time.” Harry wiped furiously at his uncooperative eyes – they were making his glasses fog. He found it ironic that him talking about his feelings always made Ginny so happy, but was something he found exceedingly hard to do. Even though he’d gotten better at it with her over the past year, it just wasn’t something he was comfortable doing. Now that she was asleep and couldn’t hear him, he was doing exactly what she wanted him to do. He wondered why it was so much easier this way.

“I can’t lose anyone else, Ginny, I just can’t – especially not you. I need you so much. We can’t keep going through this. If nothing else, one thing is crystal clear to me,” Harry said, sniffling. His brow furrowed as he tried to form coherent thoughts. “When this is all over, I don’t want any more…no more bad guys…no more dark arts, no more any of it. The Ministry can take their Auror job and shove it for all I care. I’ve had enough of this stuff. I want out. I want peace and quiet and some fun – with you. Always with you.

“Please wake up, Ginny. Wake up and tell me what to do for you. Please,” Harry said before laying his head next to Ginny’s warm body and crying softly, his hand still running through her hair.

“You could nick me some ice cream,” Ginny whispered groggily, her own hand reaching out weakly for his.

Harry’s head shot up with a start. “Ginny!”

“Hey, luv.”

“You’re okay,” he whispered, one single tear still trickling its way slowly down the side of his nose. “You came back to me.”

“Of course, I did, Harry. Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, although her voice sounded very weak. “It’d take more than a few junior Death Eaters to get me away from you. You, on the other hand, look bloody awful.”

Harry snorted. “Glad to see they didn’t damage your charm,” he said with a chuckle.

“Is Ron okay?”

“Yeah. Madam Pomfrey patched him up and sent him back to Gryffindor tower a while ago. He’ll be glad to hear you’re awake.”

Ginny’s eyes fluttered closed without commenting.

“Ginny?”

She sighed lightly and rolled to her side. Harry smiled and kissed her forehead. Convinced that she was truly going to be okay, he stood and stretched before wearily making his way back to the dormitory.

Ginny was released from the hospital wing the following day, as good as new. She immediately immersed herself in her homework, and Harry barely even saw her. She didn’t say whether or not she’d spoken to Professor McGonagall about the Animagus training, and he was hoping she hadn’t. It wasn’t that he didn’t think she could do it – he was certain she could do anything she set her mind to – it was just that he thought she was pushing herself too hard. Ginny didn’t like to be told she couldn’t do something. She had the need to prove herself. He suspected it had something to do with being the youngest in a big family. The others tended to treat Ginny like she was still a baby at times, and he could see how much it irritated her. He’d noticed the same thing with Ron, always feeling in the shadow of his brothers. With Ginny, however, she had the added fact of being the only girl, and seemed to feel she had something to prove.

When classes began again, Harry was anxious for his lesson with Abe. He wondered what Abe would say about the incident at the Ministry, and he also hoped to get some news on what was happening within the Order. Now that Ginny was okay, he’d had time to really think about the battle. When he’d struck the Death Eater that hurt Ginny, he’d been angry enough to kill him. How dare anyone touch her? He knew he hadn’t killed him, though, because he’d heard the man groaning. Still, he didn’t know what had happened to him after they left. The fact that he’d been angry enough to do it was encouraging. Maybe when the time came for the final battle and he’d have to kill or be killed, he’d have a chance after all.

Abe was already in the Room of Requirement, standing in the corner and smoking a cigar, when Harry arrived. He had the disconcerting habit of placing a cigar behind his ear while it was still lit. Harry kept waiting for his hair to catch on fire, but it never did.

“Good afternoon, young Harry. I understand you had some excitement over the weekend,” Abe said.

“I wouldn’t say it was all that exciting,” Harry replied dryly.

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. All right, then, we’ll talk about it after our lesson. First, let’s see how you’re doing with animating these stones,” Abe said, as a series of stones in various sizes materialized on the floor. Harry had been struggling with this spell. He’d been struggling with a lot of spells recently, but this one in particular. Today, however, with his added determination, he could suddenly make it work. The stones moved to block the curses Abe sent Harry’s way, and soon he was controlling several objects at once, in addition to the spellwork with his wand.

“Very nice,” Abe said, smiling. “You’ve been practicing, have you? Your movements are much more precise than they were last week.”

Harry shrugged. “I dunno why; I’m not certain what’s different.”

“I’d imagine it’s seeing your lady friend hurt. The protectiveness you’re feeling towards her is a powerful emotion, and you’ve already proven that your emotions make you stronger. Focus in on that need to protect her, that drive to keep her safe. It’s giving you power.”

“The power he knows not…d’you think that’s what it means?” Harry asked.

“I don’t know anything about that. Al’s the namby-pamby, thinking one. He always led with his head; I led with my wand…sometimes my fists. There’s a time for all approaches. It seems to me that you’ve got a great deal of love inside you. You feel very strongly for the people that surround you, and they return that to you. Voldemort, see, he doesn’t have that…so maybe that is where your strength comes from. Seems to me, only you can know for certain. When the final confrontation comes, you’ll do what you always do – think on your feet and just feel your way through it. But then again…what do I know? Al just brought me in to teach you to fight for extended periods. No one’s better than carrying on a grudge than me,” Abe said with a lopsided smirk.

Harry smiled. Abe told him how he’d fought with Professor Dumbledore against Grindelwald when they were younger. After Professor Dumbledore defeated the evil dark wizard, he and his brother had chosen different paths, although they’d always stayed close. Professor Dumbledor chose to teach at Hogwarts and keep a close eye on the Ministry. Abe had no use for the Ministry and liked to work just outside its reach. He kept his ear close to some of the more unscrupulous circles and informed Professor Dumbledore when he suspected trouble. A lot of the spells and curses he showed Harry were older and some verged close to Dark Magic, but all were powerful and effective.

They practiced a bit more before the door opened to reveal Professor Dumbledore making his way into the room. Harry was struck by how slowly he moved and noticed that he trailed his hand along the furniture as if supporting himself.

Abe immediately doused his cigar and waved frantically at the smoke. He was trying to be inconspicuous and failing miserably. Harry momentarily forgot his concern over Dumbledore’s appearance as he watched Abe struggle to act normally.

“Al, what brings you down from your perch today?” Abe asked, his voice noticeably high.

Professor Dumbledore glanced at his brother with a raised eyebrow, and Harry could read the amusement in his gaze. “Good afternoon, Aberforth. Harry,” he said, nodding to each of them. “I am certain you have noticed the absence of Mr. Weasley today.”

Both Harry and Abe started looking uneasily at one another. In actuality, Percy’s absence had gone unnoticed during their session.

“I see,” Professor Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. “I think Mr. Weasley would be disappointed that he hasn’t made more of an impression. I received a firecall from Cornelius, stating that Mr. Weasley was indisposed today. He will be joining you on Wednesday. Personally, I have a few questions I would like him to answer, myself.”

“Questions about what happened at the Ministry?” Harry asked. He knew that the Ministry would do nothing about the fact Percy had left them on their own when he was supposed to accompany them to the checkpoint; they always covered for themselves. He really didn’t think there was anything more to it than Percy’s pompous self-importance. Besides, nothing the Ministry could do would be worse than what his own family had in store for him. Mrs. Weasley had already sent him a Howler and Fred and George were developing an entire new line of products with Percy specifically in mind. It was a mistake Percy wouldn’t soon forget, and Harry hoped, for Ginny’s sake, that he was at least ashamed of himself.

“Percy was supposed to remain with you and accompany you to the Apparation point. I would like to know what was so significant a distraction.”

“What about the McClaggen girl?” Abe asked.

“Jacqueline? What about her?” Harry asked. “What does she have to do with any of this?”

“Ms. McClaggen was supposed to meet you at the Leaky Cauldron and escort you to the Ministry. Obviously, you arrived unharmed without her but we have been unable to locate her. Bill Weasley is heading the search, but, as of yet, we have nothing,” Professor Dumbledore replied.

Harry’s gut twisted with dread. Oh, no. “How long has she been missing?” he asked, dreading the answer.

“She was last seen by Mr. Weasley on Friday evening. She had planned on doing some research in the Ministry Hall of Records before meeting you at the Leaky Cauldron on Saturday morning. As far as we have been able to piece together, she never arrived at the Ministry.”

“Who else knew she was supposed to meet Harry and the Weasley kids?” Abe asked. Harry was slightly disgruntled by the term “kids” and all the protection, but he was more interested in hearing what was happening, so he held his tongue.

“Most of the Order,” Professor Dumbledore sighed.

“Sounds to me like you’ve got yourself a spy,” Abe said, twitching his lips to the side.

“I fear you are correct.”

“A spy? In the Order, you mean?” Harry asked, considering all the people he’d known for so long now. He didn’t want to think any of them would betray him to Voldemort, but he supposed his parents had felt that way, as well, and look what happened to them. He wasn’t about to let history repeat itself.

“Harry, we need to be very careful about whom we entrust any information to in the future. Until I can narrow down a list of suspects…well, as Alastor would say, we must practice constant vigilance,” Professor Dumbledore said sadly.

“What is Voldemort doing? What do we know?” Harry asked.

“The Dementors and the giants have sided with him, and it appears the werewolves are leaning that way. Remus is trying to make headway on that front. The goblins are on our side, which is a hugely significant victory for our side. As long as Voldemort doesn’t gain control of the wizarding gold, his progress is slowed considerably. I still have some meetings with representatives of the trolls and the merpeople. The centaurs remain neutral.”

“What about the vampires?”

“Vampires are solitary creatures. They don’t hunt in packs like the other groups do, so it is more difficult to negotiate with them. Because one agrees to go along with you, doesn’t mean any of the others will follow. They also have never proven to be particularly trustworthy when making an oath in the past.

“I do have one old acquaintance, Sir Ivan Horvath, with whom I have made some progress. I may introduce you at some point in the future.”

“What about Narcissa Malfoy? She purposely went after Ron.”

“Yes, and from what I have heard, Voldemort was not pleased. Not only did she do something that wasn’t a direct order, but she let you escape, yet again. Voldemort values obedience, and I suspect that Mrs. Malfoy will be punished severely for her independence.”

They sat quietly for a few moments, digesting the new information. Finally, Abe stood and began tidying the room. “We’ve done enough for today. Why don’t you head back to the tower and catch a few moments with your lady friend, kiddo?”

Harry started and looked up quickly at Abe. He felt like he’d been sucker punched, and he was amazed how much the loss of Sirius still hurt. It was over a year later, and a little reminder like an old nickname could take him back so completely. No wonder Ron and Ginny were still struggling with reminders of Charlie.

“Are you all right?” Professor Dumbledore asked with some concern. Both he and Abe were staring at Harry, who had gone very pale.

“I’m f-fine. I’m fine. I’ll see both you and Percy on Wednesday, Abe. Ron is coming, as well. Let me know if you hear anything about Jacqueline, all right, Professor?”

“Of course.”

As September continued to fly by, Harry became more and more eager for the start of the Quidditch season. Ron had booked the pitch for the coming weekend so they could hold tryouts to fill the Chaser position Katie Bell had left.

Gryffindor House held a small party for the Head Girl’s birthday. Harry had been worried about how Ron would react, but he joined the celebration and even gave Hermione a present. She hadn’t opened it where Harry could see, and he was left wondering what was inside. He was confused as to where his best friends stood with each other. They were no longer dating, but they weren’t acting like friends, either. Harry couldn’t help but notice how red Ron’s ears turned when Hermione helped Terry Boot, or how closely Hermione paid attention when Ron talked to Hannah Abbott in Potions class. Harry found it all very confusing. It seemed obvious to him that they still cared for each other, but both were too stubborn to admit it. It was almost like they’d gone back in time to fourth year.

Harry continued to have an easier time with his classes, as long as Ron and Hermione weren’t pulling him in opposite directions. The only time he really struggled with a spell, or with anything he was trying to master, also coincided with the times he was having the most difficulty with his friends’ bickering. He’d noticed how his frustration manifested itself in his spellwork, so he’d tried to avoid them when they were at their worst.

When they were all getting along, he picked his lessons up more quickly and with less effort – a fact that greatly annoyed Hermione. Somehow, he could feel this new power growing within him, as he became more determined to finish the battle. He couldn’t control his new fear of the dark or the memories it invoked; he couldn’t control his incapacity to breathe in enclosed spaces, despite the fact he knew it was only in his head. But he could control the battle. It gave him energy and made him feel empowered. He would never be a helpless victim again. He knew what he had to do, and he was determined to do it.

Snape seemed to notice his new attitude, and it rubbed the former Potions Master the wrong way. Harry thought Snape was incredibly smug about having finally landed the Defense Against the Dark Arts position, and Harry enjoyed showing him what he was capable of doing. The new defense teacher constantly tried to belittle Harry in class and make his achievements appear small and contrived.

Snape had started the class off in elimination rounds of dueling before they even had time to practice or warm up after the summer holiday. Lavender and Parvati were eliminated quickly by Seamus and Hermione, Neville had defeated Dean, and today would be the final first round match between Ron and Harry. Harry knew Snape had set it up this way deliberately and would thoroughly enjoy watching the friends try and curse each other.

As he walked into class with Ron and Hermione, Harry took a deep, steadying breath. It always helped him to clear his head before doing anything that involved Snape. Harry had discovered that actually holding his temper and controlling his emotions – something Snape had always insisted Harry was incapable of doing – irritated the man more than anything else. Holding his temper around the man was an Occlumency lesson in itself, but well worth the effort. Of course, Gryffindor ended up losing a load of points every Defense class.

Snape strode into the classroom with a delighted sneer upon his face.

“Good afternoon, class. I trust you are ready for today’s final first-round elimination duel. Potter, Weasley, step up please and try not to break anything. Although, after Longbottom’s round last week, I daresay there is nothing breakable left.”

Neville flushed in embarrassment, causing Harry to narrow his eyes at his vindictive teacher. Neville had actually been doing remarkably well in the dueling, and Snape really had no reason to criticize. Of course, when had that ever stopped Snape in the past? Ron and Harry got out of their chairs and walked to the center of the floor. Snape had cleared all the chairs to the back of the classroom, so they had plenty of room to move.

Snape sat behind his teacher’s desk, the infuriating sneer still pasted upon his face. Ron and Harry bowed to one another, each giving a slight grin. There was a time, several years ago when Harry would have been very nervous about having to face Ron in a duel in front of their peers. He’d have been afraid that Ron would get angry if Harry beat him. Now, after several years maturity and a lifetime of shared experiences, Harry knew that Ron still might get mad if Harry beat him, but it would be short-lived. It was the thrill of the competition…the chase…the confidence of that one time that victory would be achieved that Ron enjoyed. It was the same feeling Harry had when they played chess…one of these times, Harry was going to surprise him with a move he hadn’t seen coming. They were both competitive, yet still enjoyed besting each other in friendly competition.

“Okay, slim, let’s see what you got,” Ron said with a smirk.

“Just be careful you don’t trip on those abnormally long legs,” Harry shot back. During their sword fighting, they’d taken to tormenting each other on their height, or lack thereof, and each other’s physical appearance in general.

“Locomotor Mortis,” said Ron at the same time Harry fired a Jelly Legs Curse. Both easily dodged the spells. They continued circling one another, firing off several of the lesser, easily defended hexes.

Harry levitated several of the empty desks and started hurling them at Ron, who was startled by the multiple fronts. He sent a hard Stinging Hex at Harry that Harry’s shield easily deflected. Harry picked up the pace and started firing curses more rapidly. Ron, although struggling, kept up at first, but soon became flustered with the rapid fire. He stopped hurling any offensive spells, instead concentrating on defending himself. His shield soon began to flicker. Panicked, he yelled, “Garrulus.”

Harry was too focused on the heat of the fight at this point; he could taste the victory now. He aimed a spell at Ron that he’d learned in Quidditch Through the Ages. He was certain Ron would recognize it, although he’d added an extra precaution to make it harmless. “Innoxius Sagittarius.”

Along with the rest of the class, Harry watched as a rubber arrow shot from his wand and sailed in a perfect arc towards Ron’s forehead, bouncing off and landing on the floor with a harmless thud. The Appleby Arrows used to use that spell during Quidditch matches before it was banned. Ron, of course, knew what the spell was and lost his concentration, following the arrow’s progress. Harry quickly uttered, “Expelliarmus,” and easily grabbed Ron’s wand in his hand.

Ron shook his head to clear it. He grinned and stuck out his hand to shake Harry’s. “Thanks for not making it a real arrow, mate,” he said.

The spell Ron had used before Harry sent the arrow finally registered in Harry’s consciousness. “Garrulus, Ron? You actually tried to hit me with a Babbling Hex?” he asked.

Ron shrugged sheepishly. “I can’t help it. These duels always remind me of Lockhart, so that one has been on my mind.”

Before Harry could respond, Snape interrupted them. “If the mutual admiration society would kindly take their seats, I’ll continue with the class. The disgraceful display you just witnessed here is a prime example of what a duel isn’t. If you are ever in a situation where you really need to duel, forget the silly nonsense and go immediately for your best spell. It might be your only chance in getting away.”

Harry glared at Snape. “Excuse me, sir, but you said the object of this lesson was to disarm only.”

“Tell me, Potter, exactly what has to happen to you before you realize you can’t always believe what you see or what you hear?” Snape asked silkily.

Harry’s blood boiled. He was dimly aware of Hermione tugging on his sleeve, but he ignored her. Snape assigned some reading, and as he walked around the classroom, he leaned over so only Harry could hear him.

“Your powers may very well be growing, Mr. Potter, but I suggest you work extra hard on controlling them so no one else has to be hurt. I saved your sorry arse for Professor Dumbledore and the world in general, not because of any strong personal feelings towards you. In all honesty, I don’t expect you to live past the final battle, but with that Gryffindor sacrifice you are all so famous for, I do expect you to take him out with you.”

Harry refused to let Snape see that he had shaken him. He stared defiantly back into his former Potion Master’s glittering black eyes without blinking, until Snape finally straightened up and walked away.

Harry finished his reading without absorbing any of the words on the page, and when the bell rang, he was the first out the door. He moved quickly and agilely through the crowd of students until he’d reached the entrance hall and sprinted outside. He moved towards the Quidditch pitch, raising his hand in the air and hissing, “Accio Firebolt.” Fortunately, it was still fairly warm outside and the window to his dormitory was open. His beloved broom sailed easily towards him, and he grabbed it without breaking his stride.

As it always did when he took to the air, he felt the tension and anger leave him. He wished there were some way he could fly Voldemort to death – flying had always been what he did best. Even after all these years, it had lost none of its thrill.

He stayed out on the pitch until darkness began to settle on the grounds, and he finally had to join the others inside. Both Ron and Hermione demanded to know what Snape had said to him during class, but he chose to keep it to himself, much to Hermione’s annoyance. They’d been sitting in the common room, waiting for him, when he came inside while everyone else had gone to dinner, and Hermione had immediately set in trying to find out what had happened. His continued dodging of her questions only increased her irritation.

“But, Harry, obviously you were upset. Everyone could see it. You must learn to control your temper; you know he purposely tries to get you riled, and you continue to let him,” Hermione said in frustration.

“I can’t help that he does get me riled, but I didn’t explode,” he snapped. “I held my tongue, then went outside to burn off steam. It’s the best I can do, Hermione, so don’t ask me for any more.”

“Lay off, Hermione,” Ron finally said, and Harry was grateful to have his support, though saddened at the same time that Ron didn’t automatically back up Hermione, as he’d done so often in the recent past.

“Oh, I might have known you wouldn’t take my side, even if it is for his own good,” Hermione said bitterly.

Ron sat straight up on the couch, glaring at her. “And just who put you in charge of deciding what’s best for everyone else? Harry’s not a house elf, Hermione.”

“Exactly what is that supposed to mean? This has nothing to do with S.P.E.W. I simply want to keep Harry alive, and losing his temper all the time isn’t the way to do it.”

“How do you know? Seems to me he’s lived this long despite all the attempts on his life, and he’s always lost his temper. Maybe he doesn’t want you trying to save him your way, the same way the house elves don’t,” Ron snarled.

Harry could see tears sparkling in Hermione’s eyes and knew Ron had gone too far. Hermione meant well, and she truly did have his best interests at heart. Ron tended to fly off the handle and say the first thing that came into his mind when he was angry. Harry was angry, too, however, and he couldn’t stop himself from pressing his point. He’d reached the limit of his patience with his friends; he was tired of being tugged in half.

“That’s enough, Ron. You’re taking your frustration out on Hermione when you really just need to talk to her,” he said, glaring at his friend. Ron crossed his arms across his chest and looked the other way.

Harry turned towards Hermione. “I know Snape thinks he’s somehow readying me for this fight, and I am ready for it. Snape always told me that I had to control my emotions, but we learned last year that my strength comes from those emotions, so he has been wrong.”

“Maybe that’s why everything was always so much worse after lessons with Snape – you were fighting your own natural instincts,” Ron said, tilting his head to the side.

“But…but your anger gets you in so much trouble,” Hermione said tearfully. “I don’t want to lose you, Harry.”

“This is how I handle things, Hermione, and I can’t change who I am. I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be, and you’re going to have to accept that. It still may not be something I want to do, but when has what I wanted ever mattered?” Harry turned on his heel and stormed up the stairs before her tears could make him come undone.

This battle was his destiny, and it was close. He could feel it. The sooner both Ron and Hermione accepted that, the easier it would be for all of them. He didn’t want to hurt them, but this was something he had to do. If anything did happen to him, he hoped they’d still have each other to lean on, and to help Ginny through it.

Harry pulled the hangings round his bed and settled down to clear his mind. He had a harder time doing it tonight, and he was certain it had something to do with the hard feelings amongst him and his friends. He had a nagging feeling that the dissention between them couldn’t be a good thing and might even be a sign of hard times ahead.

Harry woke up on Saturday morning bright and early, because he was eager to start the day. Today would mark the start of the Gryffindor Quidditch season. They were holding tryouts for two Chaser positions and their first practice right afterwards. Ron had offered Katie’s vacant position to Tracy Bennett, who had played reserve the previous year, but Tracy instead chose to take the reserve Seeker position. Tracy really wanted to play Seeker, and the Gryffindor team would need a new Seeker the following year. Ginny didn’t want it; she preferred playing Chaser. That left them needing both a starting Chaser as well as a reserve.

Things had been tense between the friends the morning after their row, but he and Ron had gradually let it go without speaking about it, the lure of the Quidditch tryouts giving them something else on which to focus. Hermione had been avoiding both of them. Harry knew she wanted to talk about it, but he preferred the idea of just letting it slide.

He could hear loud snoring coming from Ron’s enclosed bed, so he stuck his head between the curtains and said loudly. “Ron! The Slytherins are already on the pitch – we overslept so they nabbed our time slot.”

Ron was out of bed in an instant. “Those bloody wankers! When I get my hands on them…where are my trousers?” he demanded, looking around wildly before realizing Harry was doubled over with laughter.

“Keep the noise down, Weasley – some of us are trying to sleep,” Seamus called from his bed, his voice muffled beneath his pillow.

“You’re the wanker,” Ron said to Harry without lowering his voice at all.

Harry had tears of mirth in the corner of his eyes. “If you could have seen your face.”

“Sod off. What time is it, anyway?” Ron grumbled. He glanced at his clock, then turned to Harry and shouted, “I could have slept for another ten minutes.”

“Shut it,” Dean yelled from behind his curtains. “Go play and let the rest of us sleep.”

“Come on,” said Harry, tugging on Ron’s arm. “Let’s grab some breakfast before we go outside.”

Ron, who had finished changing at this point, glared at Harry as they walked down the stairs into the common room. “Don’t think I’ll forget about that little stunt, Harry. Head Boy or not, I’m still going to make you practice longer than the rest of them today.”

“I’m certain you will, Ron, but the longer you keep me out there, the longer you’ll have to stay out there.”

Ron shrugged. “Fine by me – not like I have anyplace else to be,” he said, climbing out of the portrait hole.

It suddenly occurred to Harry that Ron was right. Last year, by the time practice was over, Ron had always been eager to see Hermione, and the two of them would disappear for a while. This morning, Hermione hadn’t been in the common room waiting for them, and Harry wasn’t even certain if she was coming to the tryouts. She’d mentioned something about study plans last night, but he hadn’t really been paying attention.

Harry glanced at Ron while they walked toward the Great Hall, wondering what his friend was thinking. Harry knew that if it was Ginny who had plans with someone else, Harry would be heartbroken and probably unable to concentrate. Ron appeared to be unconcerned, but Harry couldn’t accept that Ron was really over Hermione. He’d loved her for too long.

Ginny was already eating breakfast with the other members of the team. Harry sat next to her and pecked her on the cheek. “Good morning.”

She looked kind of grumpy; like Ron, she’d never been a morning person. “What are you so happy about this early?” she asked, covering a yawn with her hand. “I hate when you’re all chipper in the morning, Harry. It’s bloody unnatural.”

“I see you woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” replied Harry, reaching his arm across the table and grabbing some toast.

Ginny scowled at him as he smirked.

“You wouldn’t believe what he did to me this morning,” Ron said, shoveling a mound of eggs onto his fork. “Woke me out of a dead sleep, screaming something about Slytherins stealing our field time.”

Holly Proctor, now a fourth-year and Gryffindor’s other Chaser, chuckled loudly, earning a glare from Ron. “I already promised an extra long practice for him today, Proctor. Any more sniggering, and you’ll be joining him.”

“Did we get many sign-ups for the open spots?” asked Andrew Kirke.

“Not as many as I would’ve liked, but hopefully we’ll get at least one decent person and another we can train a bit,” Ron said, standing up and looking expectantly at the others. “Well, what are you waiting for? Get up. Move.”

The others stood up quickly and followed Ron outside into the warm air. It was a beautiful late September day, not too warm and not too chilly. Even at the early hour, there were several students already outside, enjoying the lovely autumn day. Ginny slipped her hand into Harry’s as they walked toward the pitch. He smiled down at her.

“It’s really nice out. Want to take a walk around the lake after practice?” he asked.

Ginny knitted her brow. “Can I hold off on answering that?” she asked, then seeing the disappointed look on his face, continued. “It’s only that I want to see how late practice runs. I have a lot of work I need to do, and I’m starting to fall a bit behind.”

Harry nodded, hoping she’d change her mind. He still thought she was doing too much but didn’t feel like another row at the moment. When they reached the pitch, there were already several students there with their brooms.

“Okay,” Ron shouted to get their attention. “We’re going to start with some drills. Form two lines – Harry and I are going to be playing Keeper on each end of the pitch. I want you to try to get some goals past us. Ginny, you watch the players shooting at Harry; Holly, you watch the ones with me. Andrew, Jack, you two keep the line moving. After we narrow it down, we’ll put you in with some of the rest of the team and see how you do.”

Everyone began to follow Ron’s instructions, and Ginny leaned towards Harry so only he could hear. “It’s a good thing they don’t all know what a horrible Keeper you make, Harry, or they’d all be trying to get into your line. This really isn’t fair to the ones going against Ron.”

“Excuse me,” Harry said in mock offense. “I wouldn’t say I was a horrible Keeper.”

“Oh, I know you wouldn’t say it, Harry, but I would, because you are,” Ginny giggled, swatting him on the rear before taking off on her broom.

Harry grinned, “Oh, you’ll pay for that, Weasley.”

They managed to narrow it down to four prospects before Ron had them try each player out in a mock game. None of the four particularly stood out, but none were so horrible they could easily be dismissed, either. After about an hour of play, Ron called the existing team into a huddle. “Well, what do you think?” he asked.

“Well,” Ginny said, “any of them might be okay…really.”

“If it’s all the same, skill wise,” Jack said slowly before his voice tapered off at the end.

“What?” Ron demanded. “Spit it out. We need to make a decision so we can still get in a practice.

“Well, Emily McTavish is a fifth-year, like me, and she tends to whine a lot in class. She tends to whine a lot in general, actually,” Jack said, knitting his brow.

“Okay, so not Emily. We don’t need any whiners, and, besides, a whiny player in her O.W.L. year is NOT something I want to deal with,” Ron said. “Anyone else?”

“Since they’re all the same skill-wise, I’d vote for Nate Daniels, I think,” Holly said. “He’s a third-year, and we don’t have any players in third year. That way, we’ll never hit a year like last when nearly the whole team had to be replaced.”

“Good thinking,” Ron said, clearly impressed with Holly’s strategy. “Okay, everyone in favor of giving the open Chaser spot to Nate?”

They all agreed, and the reserve spot went to Meghan Finnegan, a fourth-year who also happened to be Seamus’s sister. When practice was over, Harry managed to convince Ginny to take a walk with him, after all. They walked around the lake, hand-in-hand, with Harry pulling her behind a tree for a snog every few meters. Ginny giggled and allowed herself to be pulled.

“This has been a nice day,” Ginny said, sighing.

“Yeah, but it’s not over yet.”

“I have a meeting with Professor McGonagall after lunch,” Ginny said. “She’s going to start teaching me to become an Animagus, if I can do it.”

Harry swallowed. “You’re going to do it, then?”

“I told you I was.”

“I know. Can I help?” Harry asked, feeling how tensed her body had become. She instantly relaxed against him and gave him a huge smile. “Thanks, Harry. I’ll let you know.”

“What did your Mum say?”

“Well…I haven’t really mentioned it. I’ll tell her if it looks like I’ll actually be able to do it. If I can, she’ll have to accept it; this is important to me, and it might help you.”

“Ginny-”

“Don’t say it, Harry. This is my choice, my decision. This war is affecting all of us, all of our futures are at stake, and I want to do my part. Professor Dumbledore said you get your strength from us, so we need to be strong for you.”

Harry sighed. “I don’t doubt your strength, Ginny, but I can’t help that I want to protect you. I’d do anything for you…I’d move through time for you if that’s what you needed.”

“I know you would, luv…and I’d do the same for you. I love you, Harry James Potter. My life is so completely entwined with yours that I don’t even know where you end and I begin. As much as you want to protect me, I want to protect you. We’re a team, remember?”

“Yeah, well, I’ve got buckletloads of this testosterone stuff telling me that I should be the one protecting you.”

Ginny giggled. “Stuff it, Harry. I can think of better use for your testosterone.” She tugged hard on his hand and pulled him behind a tree. Grabbing his jacket with both hands, she pushed his back into the tree and pressed her lips forcefully to his own. They barely made it back to the castle in time for Ginny’s meeting with McGonagall.

A/N: This chapter fought me tooth and nail. I hope it’s all right, it’s not my favorite. I can easily say that this one chapter took me longer than any one chapter before it in this story and Power of Emotion. It might have been because it’s December and there is just too much else going on, but the words just didn’t want to come. Let me know what you think…

My beta, Mistral, tells me that the chapter title is also the title of another story by Alphie. I didn’t know that when I wrote it, but I want to give credit where credit is due. I haven’t read Alphie’s story, but Mistral says it’s hilarious so you may want to check it out. Also, if you’re looking for another good story, check out Mistral’s Just Plain Harry. It’s a fifth year story and one of the first fics I read and really enjoyed when I discovered fanfiction. Little did I know then that the author would become my wonderful beta.

Happy Easter everyone!