First You Have to Get There

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Chapter 2

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Of Hands:

As they walked into Hogsmeade, Harry slowed and looked around. "Where d'you want to go?" he asked, waving a hand haphazardly at the town. "Whatever you want, I don't mind, anywhere's fine with me." He seemed desperate for Ginny to express an opinion so he wouldn't have to choose.

"Er, maybe we should go to the Three Broomsticks and get something to drink," said Ginny. "I'm a bit thirsty from the walk. And we can decide what to do next."

"Great!" said Harry. He grabbed her hand and hurried into the town, pushing through the crowd of students thronging in the streets. Ginny stumbled after him, hand tingling and mind blank.

Harry was holding her hand.

Mind you, he'd probably only grabbed it because he wanted to get to the Three Broomsticks as fast as possible and didn't want to lose her in the crowd, but still, he was holding her hand! Ginny felt herself flushing and breathing heavily. Please let her hand not get sweaty in his. Please let her be calm when they got inside and sat down.

Harry waved at someone with his free hand and pulled Ginny a bit closer. "Almost there -- gosh, there's a lot of people out today," he said, bending to speak into her ear.

Ginny nodded, face burning. From the corner of her eye, she saw Susan and Danny watching from the other side of the street. Danny waved; Susan grinned and stuck out her tongue. Ginny turned away quickly, hoping Harry hadn't seen anything.

Apparently she was in luck, as he pulled her to the door of the Three Broomsticks without making any comments about her friends. "So here we are," he said, shifting his feet slightly. He still had hold of her hand.

"Shouldn't we go in?" asked Ginny.

"Oh, right." Harry pushed open the door and walked inside, still holding her hand. He threaded his way through the crowded room, eyes fixed on an empty two-person table near the back. Ginny stumbled behind him, not quite fitting through the gaps he created among the other customers.

She wondered, idly, why he thought he couldn't dance -- he certainly knew how to move well enough.

But that wasn't important. What was important was that Harry's hand still grasped hers, and hers was getting sticky with sweat. In fact, she was sweating all over; her blouse probably had wet patches under the arms despite Susan's homemade antiperspirant potion. Why had she trusted Susan to make that potion? The girl was Muggle-born -- what did she know about potions!

Harry pulled out a chair and helped Ginny into it, before she quite realized what he was doing. As a result, she sat down a bit more heavily than she'd intended, and flushed. He seemed not to notice.

However, he let go of her hand.

Was that a good thing or not?

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Of Relative Financial Status:

Harry hovered next to Ginny's chair, seemingly uncertain whether or not he should also sit. "D'you want anything to drink?" he said after a few seconds. "You said you were thirsty..."

"Oh. Yes. Butterbeer, I suppose, but I can get it," said Ginny, starting to stand up.

"No!" said Harry hastily. "No, stay here. I'll get it for you. We'd, er, lose the table if we both went." He strode off toward the bar, leaving Ginny alone and perplexed.

What was that about? Yes, the room was full and tables hard to find, but that didn't explain why Harry seemed so nervous about letting her fetch the drinks. She watched him speak to Madam Rosmerta, the owner of the Three Broomsticks, and slip a few coins across the bar in return for two bottles of butterbeer and two heavy glasses.

Oh. He wanted to pay for the drinks.

Ginny frowned. Was he doing that because he was nice, because he knew her family didn't have much money, or because he actually -- perhaps, maybe, just a little -- liked her?

Did she dare hope he might like her?

Probably not, Ginny decided, sighing. Harry was just being Harry and he knew how touchy Ron was about the Weasleys' poverty in comparison to Harry's wealth -- wait, just how well-off was Harry anyway? She'd never got a clear idea. Obviously he had money, since he never seemed to run out, but that might just be because he was only one person with the money for a family of three... oh, toad guts, she shouldn't even think about his parents like that.

"Hey Ginny," said Harry, breaking into her self-recriminations. "Here's your butterbeer."

"Thanks," she said, carefully not looking at him. This proved to be a mistake, since she noticed Apple, Colin, and Apple's cousin Daphne sitting near the front of the room. Daphne waved and grinned, then pointed at Colin, who was peering through his camera lens. Ginny flinched as the flash went off.

"What was that?" asked Harry, blinking.

"Colin," said Ginny flatly, face burning. "I hate my friends."

Harry flushed in return, sinking low in his chair. "Stupid question -- I should have known, but he's been less annoying this year."

"Apple hides his camera during the week," Ginny told him.

"Oh. Tell her 'thank you' for me sometime," said Harry, still hunched over.

Ginny glanced toward the front again and saw her friends' retreating backs; she glared at them, but they exited unharmed. "You can sit up -- they're leaving."

"Good," said Harry with great relief.

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Of Bathrobes and Malfoys:

Ginny and Harry sat across from each other at their small table in awkward silence. Ginny fiddled with her butterbeer, sliding the bottle back and forth between her hands. Harry opened his and poured the liquid into his glass where it foamed and hissed quietly. He stared at the sinking foam.

"So," said Ginny.

"Er," said Harry.

They fell silent again.

After a minute, Ginny couldn't stand the tension anymore and burst out, "Oh, for goodness' sake, say something!"

Harry blinked. "Er, lovely day, isn't it?"

"Yes, and the weather's fine for autumn, and Quidditch is going well, and there are a lot of people here today, and we've already had this conversation," said Ginny. "What do you talk about with Ron and Hermione anyway? You can't just stare at each other all day."

"Well, I don't know what we talk about," said Harry. "We just talk. About stuff. Er, Ron complains about work and the professors -- Hermione's always on about how we ought to be paying more attention to things -- something mysterious is usually going on -- I don't know."

Ginny grabbed the first idea. "You talk about school. I can do that. Professor Switch -- she teaches Muggle Studies -- just assigned us a five foot essay about electricity and its various sources. Dad's making me send him a copy -- he thinks he might be able to get some use out of his plug collection." She sighed. "I like the class, but it's embarrassing to ask Dad's questions for him. He sends lists every week and they're always so stupid. You'd think he'd have picked up something after all the time he's spent in his department, but he hasn't."

Harry's face crinkled into a small grin. "Your father is a bit out of it sometimes," he allowed.

"Truer words have never been spoken," agreed Ginny. "What I can't figure out is how every one of my brothers managed to get out of taking Muggle Studies. Dad's been dying to have someone explain everything to him for years, but I don't remember the twins or Ron saying anything about him pushing them into the class."

"You know, you're right!" said Harry. "I remember choosing subjects second year and the only person who gave me or Ron any advice was Percy. And it's funny your dad sends lists of questions -- I don't remember Ron even getting letters from home -- except the Howler of course."

"Probably the Weasels couldn't afford the parchment to send any," drawled a familiar, and very unwelcome, voice.

Not now, thought Ginny, not him. Not when Harry was finally talking to her!

"Malfoy," said Harry, turning to face the Slytherin and his ever-present thugs, Crabbe and Goyle. "What are you doing here?"

Malfoy raised his pale eyebrows in false surprise. "I'm only passing by -- it's a public room after all -- and I couldn't help but overhear your conversation. You do have interesting taste in friends, Potter. And in girlfriends -- the Weaselette wants to thank her hero traditionally, I suppose." He sneered idly at Ginny.

"You take that back!" shouted Ginny, shooting to her feet. Dimly she noticed Harry pushing back his chair and standing beside her, but her attention was focused on Malfoy. "You take that back, you stinking ferret!"

"Filthy Muggle-lover," spat Malfoy, flushing with rage. Crabbe and Goyle stepped forward, looming ominously.

"Go away, Malfoy." Harry's voice was quiet but firm and his hand on Ginny's shoulder was steady, pressing lightly downwards. Ginny quivered, struggling not to lose control and lunge for Malfoy's throat.

"Or what? Too scared to face me, Potter?" Malfoy sneered.

"No," said Harry. "But getting you thrown out for trying to start a fight would be a lot of bother for me -- and I don't think your father would be happy to hear about it. Go away."

Malfoy snarled but stalked away, Crabbe and Goyle trailing after him like vicious puppies. Ginny glared at his retreating back, wishing she could cast curses with her eyes. Insult her family, would he? Say she was after Harry for... because of... for that, would he? And say it in front of Harry? Filthy, toad-licking scumbag!

I hate him, I hate him, I hate the bast-- no, don't think about it or you'll explode, she told herself. Let it go. She dug her fingers into her palms and chanted silently: he doesn't matter, I will not swear, he doesn't matter, I will not swear, he doesn't matter-- "Merlin's bloody flowered bathrobe!" Damn.

Harry's head snapped around, green eyes wide and astonished. "Ginny?" he said.

"What?" she snapped, still fuming.

Harry blinked, shook his head, blinked again, and stopped fighting a smile. "Merlin's bloody flowered bathrobe?" he said incredulously. "Merlin's bloody flowered bathrobe? I've heard of Merlin's beard, but Merlin's bathrobe?" He doubled over laughing.

Ginny collapsed into her chair and dropped her face into her hands. Damn Draco Malfoy, she thought. Damn him and his insults and his idiot sidekicks. And his bloody bathrobe.

She was never going to get over this.

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Of New Beginnings:

"Stop it," said Ginny. Harry kept laughing. "I said stop it -- it wasn't that funny. Really it wasn't."

"I know, I know -- it was just Malfoy -- and then -- and the bathrobe--" gasped Harry, trying to sit up.

Ginny gave up and poured her butterbeer into the glass, watching the foam settle. The day was utterly ruined -- Harry would never take her seriously now -- but she might as well enjoy her drink. She took a sip, letting the warm liquid slide down her throat and settle her churning stomach. It was all Mum's fault, ultimately, decided Ginny -- teaching her not to swear -- making her reach for silly words instead -- setting her up so Harry would laugh... well, toad guts to her. And toad guts to Susan too, for pushing her into this situation in the first place. She'd been perfectly happy just watching Harry from the sides. Really.

"Sorry about that," said Harry, finally calm again. "I shouldn't have laughed at you -- it was just the last thing I expected to hear, 'specially after Malfoy was such a git. You shouldn't have had to hear that."

Ginny waved him off. "I've heard worse and I don't mind as much as Ron does -- he's oversensitive because he gets all the hand-me-down clothes."

"You don't?"

"Of course not -- I'm a girl!" Ginny giggled at Harry's dumbfounded expression. Somehow it was much easier to deal with him now that she knew nothing would come of the day. He was still gorgeous and still Harry, of course, but suddenly she could notice that he was being daft.

"Oh. I knew that," he said.

"Mum will be so pleased you noticed!" said Ginny, grinning. "She spent years convincing me I couldn't be just like my brothers -- d'you think it worked?"

"Er, yes?" He took a nervous swallow of his butterbeer.

"You could try to sound more convincing."

"Sorry," said Harry. "I don't think I'm doing very well today. First I can't think of anything to say, then I bring Malfoy after you -- you must think I'm an idiot."

Ginny grinned and took another sip of butterbeer. She'd never teased Harry to his face before, but it was surprisingly fun -- she'd have to try this again sometime. "Don't worry about it," she said. "It isn't as if I had anything much to say either and you're not responsible for Malfoy. You didn't tell him to be a git, after all."

"No, he does that himself," said Harry with a small smile. Ginny laughed.

"See?" she said. "Nothing to worry about. Where were we before Malfoy interrupted?"

Harry scrunched his face as he tried to remember -- he looked so silly and adorable that way -- she wanted to hug him and tell him everything would be fine. "You said Mr. Weasley pushed you into taking Muggle Studies but didn't say anything to your brothers, and I said I didn't remember Ron getting any letters from home."

"Really?" asked Ginny. "That's funny; I wrote to him every other week his first year. We used to do everything together, so I was lonely a lot."

"Maybe Errol couldn't fly fast enough to make the morning delivery," said Harry. "He always seemed exhausted whenever I saw him."

"That's probably it," agreed Ginny. "Errol's older than I am, you know. But Ron never wrote back much anyway, and then he was gone for Christmas holidays too."

"I'm sorry," said Harry morosely, staring into his butterbeer. "He only stayed because I couldn't go back to the Dursleys."

"That wasn't your fault," said Ginny hastily. Drat, she hadn't meant to sound accusing and now Harry was feeling guilty for no reason. "Honestly, Mum and Dad were happy to be rid of the boys," she continued. "They took me to see Great-Aunt Maggie that year, and we never visit her because she doesn't have room for us all."

"I didn't know you had a Great-Aunt Maggie -- Ron never talks about his family," said Harry, sounding mildly interested.

Aha! thought Ginny, if she distracted him he'd forget to feel guilty. She leaned forward, peering around dramatically. "I'll tell you why he never talks about us," she whispered, "but you can't tell him I said anything; it's a secret."

Harry shot her a doubtful look but leaned forward.

"Ron never talks about the family because we embarrass him," said Ginny into Harry's ear. "It's the red hair -- he's bitter about looking like a carrot, he says -- and Uncle Edward's breath reeks of garlic."

"Really?" asked Harry.

"No! Of course not!" said Ginny, sitting up and giggling. "Well, Uncle Edward's breath really does smell and Ron is embarrassed of Dad, but we're all embarrassed of Dad so that's nothing special. I think he just forgets about us unless we're there. He never talked about me or Bill or Charlie, did he?"

"No..." said Harry slowly.

"There you go! That's the real secret -- Ron has a terrible memory -- unless he's playing chess, of course. Then he remembers everything. It's very irritating."

"You play chess?" said Harry. "I've never seen you play."

"You can't live with Ron for ten years and not play chess -- I bet it was one of the first things he taught you. It was, wasn't it?" said Ginny, waving her glass for emphasis.

Harry smiled. "Yeah, he taught me. I'm not very good though; he always wins. Does anyone ever beat him?"

"Bill, now and then -- it's because he spends so much time figuring out how to get past traps and curses while he's out treasure-hunting -- Bill taught Ron to play, you know. And I beat him once when I was eight." Ginny sighed. "I have no idea how I managed that and I've never done it again."

"If you ever find out, tell me!" said Harry. "I don't mind losing but I think Ron gets bored of playing me, and Hermione's always busy studying. And I have Quidditch practice anyway."

"He can play other people besides you two -- why not a sixth or seventh year? Why not a Ravenclaw?" asked Ginny.

Harry paused to think about this, running his hands through his messy hair. "I have no idea, actually," he said after a while. "Somehow we never talk to anyone outside of Gryffindor -- except Malfoy, but he doesn't count."

"Really? Nobody in my year is like that," said Ginny. "My friend Xanthe's in Hufflepuff, and Apple's cousin Daphne is in Slytherin, and we're all friends. We're going to have to deal with people from other houses after we leave Hogwarts, after all -- there's no reason not to get started now."

"I suppose..." said Harry, as if this had never occurred to him. Ginny wavered between sighing over the way confusion narrowed his eyes, concentrating their sparkle, and groaning over his obliviousness.

"It's because of Ron, isn't it," she said. "He's my brother and I love him, but he's a toad-licking idiot. Gryffindor this, Gryffindor that, rah rah Gryffindor." She pulled a sour face. "Slytherins are evil so don't talk to them, Ravenclaws are a bunch of book-fiends so stay away from them, and Hufflepuffs are boring so why bother. That's exactly what he thinks -- I know it is! He's such an idiot."

Harry stared blankly at her.

Ginny flinched and shook her carefully curled hair over her face, ruining Susan's work. "Oh, now you hate me! I didn't mean it -- well, I did -- but not the way it sounded! Ron's a great person! He's just... lazy, that's it. And Draco Malfoy does not give anyone great faith in Slytherins, so I completely excuse you there."

Ginny waited a few seconds, then peeked through her hair. Harry was still silent, though he'd pulled himself together enough to hide his expression. "Harry?"

He shook his head slowly. "Wow. Er, please don't take this the wrong way, but I suddenly realized I've known you for, what, three and a half years now?" -- he scrunched his face up, then nodded -- "yes, since summer before my second year -- and I just realized I don't know you at all. I know you're nice -- you went to the Yule Ball with Neville, after everything -- but that's awfully vague."

"Oh," said Ginny, tucking her hair behind her ears. "I sort of knew that, actually -- after all, it's not as if we talk much."

"Yeah."

They drank butterbeer in silence for a minute before Harry said, with the air of a man making a great confession, "I feel like an idiot for not realizing that."

"That's okay," said Ginny.

"And now is not a good time for me to realize that," continued Harry, "since we're supposed to be out together -- which ought to mean we like each other -- which ought to mean we know each other. But we hardly ever talk, so we don't really know each other -- I thought you were shy, actually, but you have loads of friends and I didn't know that. So why are we here?" He looked at Ginny, as if expecting her to produce an answer.

Ginny ducked back behind her hair. "Because I think you're nice? And I wanted to get to know you?" Her voice was squeaking again -- she'd thought she was past this! The day had been ruined -- she didn't have to be embarrassed anymore -- but she was embarrassed anyway. It wasn't fair!

But wait, Harry was talking. "I think -- I think I said yes because I'd like to get to know you too," he said, his voice suddenly small and lonely. "I don't have a lot of friends -- maybe we can be friends. And then you won't have to miss Ron anymore."

Ron's not the point, she wanted to yell at him, she hadn't missed him since first year -- and she didn't want to be friends -- but that wouldn't do any good. "Okay," she said instead. "My name is Virginia Weasley, but you can call me Ginny. Nice to meet you."

Harry's smile burst across his face, chasing away the shadows that lingered in the backs of his eyes. "I'm Harry Potter," he said. "Nice to meet you, Ginny."

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