The Off Season

Ginny limped carefully and painfully through the Muggle crowds, down the moving staircase and into the station below the streets. With her secondhand Muggle coat over flowing robes, she knew she looked a bit like an old lady to the people around her, but she couldn't really bring herself to be bothered today.

A train pulled into the station with a rush of wind that made her hair fly around her face, and she allowed herself a small smile at the memory of how pleased her father had been to find out that she traveled on the tube every day. The doors slid open in front of her and she hobbled on, looking around for an empty seat but seeing none. A man about her own age with shocking green hair looked her up and down blatantly as he stood and offered his seat, and she accepted gratefully.

She watched him from the corner of her eye as the train sped through the darkened tunnels beneath the city. He leaned gracefully against the doors, his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans. His black sweatshirt was festooned with patches and glittering with safety pins. THE MISFITS read his shoulder. Dropkick Murphys, said his elbow. The Weird Sisters said his pocket. Ginny's eyes widened in surprise and she forgot to pretend she wasn't looking. The train slowed to a stop and he turned slightly toward the door, exposing a patch on his lower back that said Salazar and the Serpents in large black letters. As though he felt her looking, he glanced to the side and met her eyes briefly, grinning knowingly at her.

The doors slid open and he stepped out, and Ginny realized belatedly that this was her stop. She squeezed through the doors and joined the crowds on the escalator. Several steps ahead of her, she could see a head of spiky green hair, sticking out like a sore thumb among the drab browns and grays of the early-morning commuters.

When she reached the top of the escalator and stepped out onto the city streets, he was waiting for her. He fell into step beside her, his tall frame hunched over and his hands shoved into the pockets of his sweatshirt, and they walked along together without talking for a block or so.

Finally, Ginny spoke. "Tailing me?"

The young man next to her let out a high, girlish giggle.

"Not a very good use of Ministry funds, there," Ginny went on.

He scoffed. "It's practice."

"Yeah?" she teased. "In case you ever have to follow me for real?"

"Absolutely."

They stopped for a moment, and Ginny's companion ducked into a McDonald's bathroom and emerged about a foot shorter, with breasts and a round, smiling face.

"Much better," Ginny pronounced, and Tonks grinned back at her. "I like the green hair, though."

"Yeah," agreed Tonks, tugging on a lock of it near her ear. "Me too."

"So how's the leg?" she asked abruptly, as they neared the run-down department store that housed St. Mungo's Hospital.

"I'm about to find out," said Ginny lightly, not wanting to discuss it, even with such a close friend. Then, because she felt bad, "Meet me at Fortescue's later?"

"I thought you'd never ask," Tonks replied, and they stepped together through the plate-glass window into the noisy waiting area at St. Mungo's. With a wave, Tonks turned and walked jauntily down the long hallway that led to a Floo portal to the Ministry. Ginny headed back toward the lifts, where she pressed the button for the fourth floor.

The Healer who oversaw Ginny's case was a kind, grandfatherly man, and he ushered her into his office as soon as she stepped off the lift.

"Good morning, Miss Weasley," he said, as she seated herself on the cot in his examining room. "And how are we today?"

"I'm just fine, Healer Jacobs."

He poured a blue potion onto his hands and massaged it into her calf, leaving her with a familiar cooling sensation. Ginny did not understand what this or any of the other treatments he went through every time actually did, but she went anyway, and submitted to the treatment, mostly to make her mother happy.

"And how is the leg?" he asked, for all the world as though he were asking about the weather. "Scar giving you any trouble?"

"No, sir."

He continued to go through his regular routine, examining her with complex silver instruments which buzzed and whirred and always gave the same results, and smearing her with several more tingling creams and ointments.

"Any new developments at all?" he asked.

"No, none."

"Mmmm, I see. Not feeling any pain, are we?"

"Ah, well, some," Ginny admitted. "Some, yeah."

Healer Jacobs picked up his wand and muttered something under his breath as he waved it over her leg, which began to glow with patches of vivid red and orange light.

"Oh, dear," he said. "Oh dear, this is quite worse than I had thought." He looked up at Ginny over his spectacles, squinting a little. "This must be quite painful, my dear."

Ginny squirmed uncomfortably. "It's okay. I manage."

"With what?" he asked sharply. When she didn't answer, he asked again, "What are you using? Charms, potions?"

"Just, ah, a numbing charm," Ginny mumbled.

"What? Speak up, my dear."

"A numbing charm, Healer."

"Tsk, tsk, my dear," he said. "You should have come to me much sooner. I'm going to have to ask you to remove it."

Reluctantly, Ginny dug around in her bag, pulled out her wand, and tapped the scar on her leg softly with her wand, saying clearly, "Finite incantatem."

Immediately, her leg pulsed and throbbed with pain. Healer Jacobs beamed as the lights above her leg turned from orange and red to dark maroon and fuchsia, and said happily, "There now, that isn't so bad, is it?"

Ginny thought she might pass out from the pain, but she gritted her teeth and nodded at the healer.

He murmured a few more words under his breath, and the air above her leg sparkled as though full of golden glitter. "Hrm, I think this looks remarkably like another case I saw once upon a time, many years ago," he said, more to himself than to Ginny. "In that case, there was a severe allergy, but that shouldn't be a problem here, so the more traditional remedies should -- my dear, you have never had any reaction to the use of leeches, have you?"

Ginny gulped. "No, but I've never actually--"

"Excellent," he said, already reaching for a large jar of murky water on a shelf above his desk. "You'll find them to be quite painless, really."

Ginny's leg gave another throb and she bit her lip, holding back the hysterical laughter that was threatening to spill forth.

Healer Jacobs waved his wand and carefully levitated six smallish black blobs out of the jar and onto Ginny's leg. Immediately, she felt sharp stabs of pain as they latched onto her leg and broke the skin. Each of the blobs began to throb and swell as her blood filled them.

The healer tapped each leech with his wand and muttered several words, turning them from black to a deep, grayish brown.

"There now," he said with satisfaction. "All we need to do is wait."

Ginny nodded mutely, her fingernails digging into her palms from dual pain that filled her leg and took over her brain: the dull ache that had been ever-present since she had awoken in the hospital wing over two years before, and the sharp dragging pain of the leeches.

As she watched, the grayish leeches on her legs began to change color: first brown, then rust-colored, and finally to a vivid, brilliant red.

"There now," the Healer pronounced. "All clean, I dare say."

"Clean?" asked Ginny, with a slight whimper.

"Your blood, dear girl. Didn't you see what a frightful mess it was before?"

"My blood?"

He began systematically returning the leeches to their jar of pond water, and as the painful connections were cut, Ginny could feel her mind clearing. Had that dark grayish-brown color been her own blood?

"Yes, indeed. I believe the curse left a residual effect there. You'll still feel some pain, but I daresay there will be less. Oh, one more thing--" He tapped the six bite marks on her leg with his wand, repeating an elementary healing charm, and the wounds closed up. "That should do it."

"Thank you," Ginny said politely, easing her hands out of their tight fists and flexing her fingers subtly. "I'll see you next week, then?"

"Well, I should like to check your progress soon, but I do not believe these weekly visits will be necessary after this. Shall we say next month?" He patted her leg in a distracted manner, and Ginny braced for the shock of pain that usually traveled up her spine at such contact, but it never came.

"Have a lovely day, now, dear," he said, already turning his back on her to replace the leeches on their shelf.

"Erm, you too," Ginny replied dazedly, getting to her feet slowly.

Healer Jacobs seemed absorbed by some paperwork on his desk, so she let herself out, and wandered slowly down the hall, still limping a little bit from habit, although she could feel the ground beneath her feet again.

---

She stepped out into the familiar environment of Diagon Alley, still wondering at the new sensations in her leg. The pain that had been debilitating before was now bearable, and without the numbing charms, she was again able to walk as she once had.

She walked past the bookstore where she worked, and waved happily to old Mr. Blott, who was rearranging the display in the window.

A few storefronts over sat Florean Fortescue's ice cream parlor, and by the time she reached it, she did not feel exhausted or worn out, as she usually did. Instead, she was excited and energized as she hadn't been in what felt like forever. It was as though her energy was collecting momentum, growing over time.

She chose a table in the window and took a seat, waiting for Tonks to join her. As she sat, she watched the weekday shoppers go about their business, moving from store to store. Mr. Blott's display looked good, she thought. Madame Malkin had a particularly hideous set of chartreuse robes in her window, which seemed designed to make the wearer look as large as possible. An elderly witch stopped in front of the display and seemed to admire the outfit, before stepping decisively inside the store. Ginny smothered a laugh.

Past Madam Malkin's was Quality Quidditch Supplies, and Ginny found herself looking at the shining racing brooms in the window with interest. It had been more than a year since she had even walked into the store, but after Ron's birthday party and the championship game, she thought that maybe she might stop by and take a look. Of course, that's all it could be. She hadn't flown in ages, she reminded herself.

"Wotcher," said Tonks, as she pulled out a chair at the table.

"Oh! Tonks!" said Ginny, startled. "I didn't even see you coming."

"Yeah, daydreaming. I saw you." Tonks laughed, propping her cheek with one hand and affecting a dazed look. "So who's the lucky bloke, then?" She scanned the street in front of them, as though trying to figure out where Ginny had been looking. Then in a whisper, she asked, "Was it Mr. Blott?"

Ginny let out a peal of laughter as the wizard in question looked up from his work on the display and smiled genially at a small child looking in the window.

"Those bushy eyebrows do it for me every time," she said suggestively.

Tonks screwed up her face in concentration, and a moment later, her eyebrows looked like two large caterpillars, bright green to match her hair.

"Good morning, ladies." Florean Fortescue bowed slightly and held out two menus, but Ginny waved them away.

"We'd like a banana split, please," she announced. "With two spoons."

Tonks grinned at her and waggled her enormous eyebrows, and Florean bowed slightly. "An excellent choice. Just a moment."

"Celebrating something today?" Tonks asked after he shuffled off with the menus.

"I just feel good, is all."

Tonks let out a low whistle. "That Mr. Blott is a lucky man."

By the time that Ginny stopped laughing and managed to breathe normally again, their sundae had arrived. They dug in enthusiastically, abandoning conversation for more important matters.

After the ice cream was gone, Tonks dropped a handful of sickles on the table and pushed back her chair. "Sorry, Gin, but I have to run. I have a big meeting today."

Ginny tapped her eyebrows meaningfully, and watched the bushy green caterpillars retract into somewhat smaller versions.

After Tonks had gone, Ginny checked the clock on the wall of the ice cream parlor. With a groan, she realized that there were only a few minutes left until she had to be at the bookstore for her afternoon shift. There was no time to go to Quality Quidditch today.

She bade goodbye to Florean, and stepped out the door, resolutely reminding herself that she had no reason to visit Quality Quidditch today or any other day. There was no way she could play on her injured leg, and there was no reason to torment herself.