The Off Season

Ginny walked to meet the team outside Quality Quidditch at noon that Sunday, feeling altogether different from the way she'd felt the week before. Then, she'd been unsure if she would even be able to play, much less keep from embarrassing herself. Now, she knew herself to be every bit as capable as her teammates, and not just that: she felt herself to be one of them. They might not have won the week before, but they had come together and worked hard, and Ginny herself had carried her share of the weight. She knew she was up to the challenge again.

Walking confidently down the cobblestoned street, she thought about one day being able to play Quidditch, and get paid for it. The thought was almost too wonderful to imagine.

Just a short while ago, she had been positive that she was unable to even fly a broom, and now she was planning to try out for a professional team. She felt a rush of gratitude toward Harry, for working so hard to help her, and for encouraging her until she felt up to the task. Licking her lips, she smiled to herself as she thought of ways she could thank him properly.

By the time she arrived at the store, the rest of her team members were already there, and they set off for the park together.

"You ready for today?" Katie asked.

"All set," Ginny said. "You?"

Katie gave her a funny look but nodded. "Me? I'm fine."

They arrived at the Apparition point then, and Ginny didn't have a chance to ask her what she meant. Once she got to the park, however, she had a good idea what Katie had been getting at.

Floating in midair on matching broomsticks, batting a Bludger back and forth between them, were a matched pair of redheaded Beaters.

Slowly, Ginny tore her eyes away from them and looked at the rest of the team. Ron stood near one of the picnic tables, his arm slung around the shoulders of a curvy witch with bright, cherry-red hair. Three other witches that she didn't recognize stood nearby, stretching.

"Too many bleedin' Gryffindors in this league," she heard Roger say quietly behind her.

"Got that right, mate," Bole grunted in agreement.

Ginny turned to Katie. "You knew about this!" she said accusingly, pointing at Fred and George on their brooms.

"Of course," Katie agreed. "Didn't you?"

"No!"

"Oh," she said unrepentantly. "Sorry."

"Yeah, I bet," Ginny muttered under her breath, hurrying towards the sideline where Tonks stood with her brother, entirely too close for casual conversation.

"I heard that!" Katie called after her.

Ginny made it almost all the way to the edge of the makeshift pitch before one of her brothers noticed her. Suddenly, she heard a voice from directly above her head.

"Hey Fred, our ickle baby sister has come to cheer us on!"

"Aww, how sweet! Here, Gin-Gin, I think you need these." Two large pom-poms appeared in the air and dropped to Ginny's feet. She stepped over them without a second look.

"I'm here to show you boys how it's done, actually," she said smoothly. "I think you could use the help." She set down her things and began to stretch, doing her best to look unconcerned.

When she finished, she mounted her broom and sailed up into the air.

"I'm hurt, little sister, that you are playing against your beloved brothers instead of for us," Fred said, flying over to her.

"Next time, try telling me you have a team and maybe I'll consider it, Fred."

"I'm George," he responded automatically.

"No you're not, you twit. I can tell, you know."

Fred just laughed in response, and Ginny drew closer to him, so that their brooms were side by side.

"What's going on down there?" she asked, nodding toward Ron and Tonks.

"It's been like that for a couple weeks now," he replied. "That's all I know."

Ginny shook her head. "I'm going to kill her for not telling me."

"Speaking of which, how's Harry these days?" Fred asked. "Anything you want to tell me?"

"No," Ginny said stubbornly, ignoring his first question.

"He said he would stop by the pub after the game," Fred said casually. Ginny felt her insides lighten at the thought, and fought to keep a happy smile from spreading across her face. Fred must have noticed anyway, because he cackled loudly before suddenly veering away to rejoin his twin and the rest of the team, who seemed to be having some sort of conference at the opposite end of the pitch.

Ginny looked around for her own team and discovered that they, too, were huddled together at one end of the pitch, apparantly discussing strategy.

"Fraternizing with the enemy?" asked Felina teasingly when she arrived.

Ginny just laughed in response.

"Allright, team, listen up," Katie said. "We have a real shot at winning this game, so play well and we might be able to get some free drinks out of it." The team laughed appreciatively, and she waited for them to grow quiet before she went on. "The weak spot on this team is definitely Tonks, the Chaser with the bright red hair. She played Keeper in school, so she's a strong flyer but not as good with a Quaffle." Ginny nodded. Although she already knew that Tonks had played Keeper, she was thinking of her now as an opponent and not as a friend. "Ginny might be able to tell us more about her brothers out there," Katie said, startling her.

"Fred and George are really good Beaters, they work really well together," Ginny explained. "At home when we play, I usually try to stick close to an opposing player and also to have a lot of vertical movement when I fly--it confuses the Bludgers." She saw Roger and Katie nodding, and smiled. "Ron's all right, but he's weaker on his right side," she explained. "He knows all my tricks, so maybe you guys..." Roger nodded again, and she knew he'd caught her suggestion. She felt vaguely guilty for discussing Ron's weaknesses like this, but if they won, it would be worthwhile.

The game started out slowly, with neither team gaining an advantage, but Ginny soon found a profitable angle. She flew up the field with the Quaffle, intentionally imitating the unsophisticated, unsubtle style she'd used when she first played against Ron. She approached the goal hoops on his stronger left side, then passed swiftly to Roger, who scored easily before Ron could cross to the other hoop. She exchanged a grin with him before diving breathlessly back into the game.

They used the formula twice more to great effect. Ron blocked Roger's next shot on goal easily, however, and Ginny knew she had to think of something new.

She remembered the obvious Porskoff Ploy she'd witnessed at the championship game, and she signalled Roger on a time out. He nodded quickly, and the next time the Quaffle came into her posession, she flew clumsily up the middle of the field, rising high into the air above the middle hoop. She was counting on Ron to discount his baby sister's flying ability, and he did just as she expected. When Roger got into position, she faked a pass to him and then swerved to her right and shot past Ron, even as he dove across the hoops in a failed attempt to block her.

Roger looked surprised and a little put out, and she realized that he had probably been expecting a real Porskoff Ploy, but she was too excited to worry about his feelings right then. Elated, she flew low over his head in a swooping, diving barrel-roll that left her hair tangled and her head spinning. When she was done and before she rushed to play defense, she glanced back at Roger and saw an appreciative smile cross his face.

Tonks, as predicted, was terrible. Whenever the Quaffle was passed to her, Katie reached in and stole it away. Eventually she simply flew nearby and Tonks panicked and dropped the ball. Katie reached out and grabbed the Quaffle, reversing neatly and streaking down the field in the direction of the goal.

Ginny spun around a split-second later and flew parallel to her, watching for defensive players and trying to keep them from getting near the Quaffle. A Bludger streaked toward Katie and she dove quickly, passing to Roger. He passed to Ginny, who passed quickly back to Katie. As she approached the goal hoops, Ginny and Roger pulled up to avoid crowding the Keeper and watched as Ron deflected Katie's shot. The three Chasers traded disappointed glances and turned slowly to rejoin the game.

Pausing to brush a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, Ginny squinted into the rich, golden light of the afternoon sun at the other players. It must be getting quite late, she realized, if the sun was so low in the sky. Her teammates looked like they were feeling the effects of the long game: many of them were flying slower than usual, and there had been several dropped balls recently. Only the Bludgers were still flying with their normal energy, now.

As the game went on and the sun dropped lower, Ginny began to feel a little desperate. She wished there was something she could do to end the match, but of course there was nothing. Only the Seekers could end the match, and only by catching the Snitch, which was nowhere to be seen.

The sooner the game was over, the sooner she could see Harry. She could already picture his crooked smile, his shining, messy hair, and the feel of his arms around her waist. A huge smile spread across her face at the thought.

"Oi, Weasley!" called a masculine voice from above.

She turned her head and realized with a start that the game had been going on without her. Shaking her head to clear it of daydreams, she flew to rejoin her teammates near the center of the pitch.

She watched as Roger intercepted a pass, and started moving slowly up the pitch with the Quaffle. Heaving a sigh, she moved into flight opposite him, and he passed to her. Holding the Quaffle lightly between her hands, she flew toward Ron, then dropped and dodged toward the left hoop, then the right. At the last moment, she flew up out of the goal area and passed to Roger, who was behind her. Surprised, he almost dropped the pass, but recovered well, and shot smoothly at the center hoop. The Quaffle soared easily through the hoop without any interference from Ron, and at the same moment a loud cheer went up from the other players on the pitch.

Ginny frowned. That was odd. At the beginning of the game, the players had cheered when their team scored a goal, but as the game went on and on, the excitement level declined until only a few players clapped when their Chasers scored. Now it sounded as though every player on the pitch was cheering.

She turned her broom slowly, looking over the rest of the pitch, and saw her team in a tight knot at the center of the pitch.

"Felina's got the Snitch," Roger commented, seeing her confusion.

"Oh, good," Ginny said, relieved.

Roger laughed dryly, and she realized that perhaps she should have sounded more excited.

"Shall we go celebrate, then?"

"Why not?"

They flew together toward the other players, who by now had dropped to the grassy pitch. Everyone looked as tired and relieved as she felt, Ginny noticed.

"Drinks on us tonight," George called to the group, and a weary cheer went up.

The players began drifting over to the sidelines, and Ginny followed them, limping slightly and feeling her muscles ache from so long in the air.

She picked up her things quickly and made her way toward the apparition point alone. Although she started earlier, the other players, unsaddled with injuries, caught up quickly. As she walked, she felt a hand clap heavily on her left shoulder, but when she turned her head, there was no one there. Looking to her other side quickly, she saw Roger's handsome face smiling at her, one dimple showcased on his tanned cheek.

"Hey there," she said, smiling back at him, glad that the game was over and at the prospect of seeing Harry at the pub.

"Good game today," he said, his hand still resting on her shoulder and not moving.

"Thanks," she said shortly, starting to feel just a little bit uncomfortable.

"I only saw you play a couple of times at Hogwarts," he said. "But I didn't remember you being this good." He had slowed his pace, perhaps to keep up with her hobbled stride, and the rest of the groups went past them toward the apparition point.

"Erm, thank you," she said again. "But I haven't actually played much since--"

He placed one hand underneath her chin, and her spine stiffened. She took a little step backwards, but his arm was behind her back and he must not have gotten the hint.

"I don't remember you being so pretty, either," he said smoothly.

She opened her mouth to respond, although she didn't know what to say, and he leaned in and placed his lips against hers, massaging her mouth with his and pulling her closer to him in his arms.

Ginny just stood still, frozen with surprise. After a moment, Roger must have realized that she was not responding to his kiss, and he stepped back. She pressed her fingers to her lips, unsure of what to say or do.

"What's wrong?" Roger asked, running a hand through his dark brown hair, which was always perfectly coifed. "Oh no, you have a boyfriend, don't you?"

"Erm, kinda, yeah," Ginny agreed after a moment's hesitation. "Yeah."

"Damn," he swore. "Why do all the good ones always have boyfriends?"

Despite herself, Ginny laughed.

Roger ran his hand through his hair again and looked down at her. "I'm sorry, Ginny," he said, a bit stiffly. "It won't happen again."

"That's okay," she said. "Let's go get a drink, okay?"

"Sure," he said. "And if things don't work out..."

"I'll be sure to let you know," she said, thinking that that was rather unlikely.

He smiled ruefully at her and they went on to the pub.

She stepped inside ahead of Roger, looking around eagerly for Harry. The place was fairly empty, and so she could see at first glance that he was not there. She sighed, feeling disappointed and much less excited about spending the evening packed into a noisy pub with a bunch of sweaty Quidditch players.

Tonks was sitting alone at the end of the bar, drinking something with a large umbrella sticking out of it. Surprised, Ginny looked around the pub again, and realized that Ron was not there either.

Sliding onto the stool next to Tonks, she signaled the bartender for one of the umbrella-decorated concoctions.

"Where's Ron?" she asked.

Tonks looked up at her with an odd expression on her face, a mix of guilt and anger and thoughtfulness, but did not say a word.

"Tonks?" Ginny asked again. "Where's Ron?"

Tonks took a long sip of her drink, and the bartender brought Ginny's over, plunking it down on the bar in front of her and spilling some over the side. The umbrella in her glass wobbled and fell slowly into the alcoholic puddle.

"You didn't hear it from me," Tonks said finally, and then fell silent.

Ginny sat still for a moment, certain of what Tonks was about to say but unwilling to let her mind come to that conclusion. Finally, when neither of them spoke, she broke down.

"What? What is it?"

"Ron and I ran into Harry," she said slowly, as if she did not want to tell the story. "And he seemed upset."

"When?" asked Ginny, feeling as though this conversation was not happening to her but was just something that had happened to someone else, a very long time ago.

"Just now," Tonks said. "After the game."

"And?"

"And he saw you kissing Roger, Ginny, what were you thinking?" she hissed angrily.

"I--I wasn't--" Ginny stammered, wanting to explain what had really happened with Roger and remembering desperately that she had been thinking of Harry the entire time.

Tonks looked down into her brightly colored drink. "Harry is my friend too, you know," she said, which didn't really explain anything but also sort of did. "You do what you want, but he's my friend too."

Ginny stood and limped out of the bar and onto the street without another word.

The night was balmy, and the streets felt full of life. As she walked, she could hear music drifting from open windows, the loud babble of conversation emanating from pubs and bars she passed. Cars passed her occasionally, whirring and crashing along the streets beside her. Cigarette smoke drifted on the breeze. Above the buildings, she could see nothing but plain black sky, the clouds obscured by buildings and streetlamps.

She saw all of this, but didn't really take it in. Walking down the street, she simply let it all slip by. Occupied entirely with her own thoughts, she did not have energy or attention to spare for the rest of the world.

She had pushed Roger away because of Harry, and he had seen and misunderstood. She ought to contact Harry and explain, but she didn't know when or how. Tonight, her brother would be there, and would probably not be helpful. But if she waited until tomorrow, he would just have had more time to think about it, and get upset. It would have to be tonight.

She arrived at her building, slightly surprised that she had gotten there so fast, and walked carefully up the stairs to her apartment. Her leg ached by the time that she got in, and she was reminded of the reason that she usually Apparated places.

Taking a deep breath, she kneeled down in front of the fireplace. She kindled a fire and threw a handful of Floo powder onto it, watching the flames dance with multicolored light.

"Harry Potter," she said clearly, and thrust her head into the flames. The world spun around her for a moment, leaving her with the strange feeling that her head and her body were no longer connected to each other, and then the spinning slowed and ground to a halt in the shape of Harry's living room.

He was sitting on the sofa, with his head cradled in his hands. Two empty teacups sat on the coffee table in front of him, but she didn't see Ron in the room with him.

"Harry?" she asked, and he looked up at her slowly.

"What?" he replied simply, his voice low and gravelly.

"It wasn't what it looked like," she blurted quickly, wincing inwardly at how silly and clichéd she sounded.

"I don't think this was a good idea," Harry said wearily, as though he hadn't heard her at all.

She waited until he spoke again, and immediately wished she hadn't.

"It was just another mistake." He sounded so bitter and unhappy that she could almost feel it in the air.

"I was there too, you know," she responded angrily. "Are you just going to roll over and play dead without giving it a chance at all?"

He set his jaw stubbornly. "You should go," he said, waving his hand in her direction. Before she could speak again, the flames in her own fireplace sputtered and died, breaking the connection.

She tried desperately to light the fire again, but the flames that shot out of her wand crackled but did not light. Without a fire, she could not contact him by Floo, and eventually she gave up, sitting back on her heels and staring wordlessly at the grate.

A slow pain was building in her chest, as though someone had reached inside of her and ripped something out. Her eyes blinked slowly, and she wished that there were tears spilling over them and dripping over her cheeks. She might feel better if she could cry about this, but for some unknown reason even that was denied her.

She sat there, in front of the fireplace, for what felt like hours, until she could no longer feel her feet. When she finally tried to stand, she found that she couldn't, and retreated only as far as the sofa, where she fell asleep quickly.

When she woke, the first thing she saw was the cold fireplace, and then she wept. Quietly, softly, large tears rolled down her cheeks and were absorbed by the cushion beneath her cheek.

-----

On Tuesday evening, although she was still heartsore, she locked up the bookstore on the stroke of five, and Apparated to the park. It might have been habit that made her go, or it might have been the blind hope that he would come too. As soon as she got there, however, she realized that he would not be coming. She sat down to wait anyway.

The environment of the park was cool and soothing. In her mind, Ginny replayed the memory of the last time she had been here with Harry, hovering in the air high above the pitch, bodies interlocked on one broom.

The summer sky was still bright blue at this hour, lit with the last of the sun's rays. She tipped her head back and stared up past the treetops into the sky, thinking about the feeling of flying up there.

Now Harry was gone, and she was here alone. She thought again of contacting him, of trying to explain. The closed-off look on his face had been very clear, however.

She thought about crying, about how she hadn't been able to cry while they were actually talking, and about how she had woken up the next morning with salt-water tracks across her face. When she looked up into the sky and felt the light summer breeze in her hair, though, she didn't actually want to cry.

Her broom was propped against the table where she sat, and it looked awfully inviting. The sky was clear, the wind was blowing, and it was a perfect day for Quidditch.

Whatever happened, Ginny knew that Harry was wrong. This had not been a mistake. He had given her back a part of her life that she'd given up as lost a long time ago.

She rose quickly into the air on her broom, cradling the Quaffle in one arm. As she did so, she smiled.