First You Have to Get There

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First You Have to Get There: Chapter 4

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Of Senses of Humor:

They ended up in the Hog's Head tavern for lunch, as neither Harry nor Ginny was particularly interested in going back to the Three Broomsticks or to one of the fancier tea shops. Harry looked around the dingy room with distaste, but Ginny pulled him over to a table.

"It looks awful, I know," she said, "but the food's cheap and it doesn't taste half bad. Just remember not to use any glasses from the bar -- the kitchen ones are actually clean."

Harry examined the sole of his shoe, frowning. "I think I stepped into someone else's lunch. When have you been here before?"

"Daphne decided we were going exploring last year," said Ginny, "and you don't say no to Daphne. She thinks this place has atmosphere -- I think she's nuts -- but at least people don't stare at you here."

Harry looked around the room, his glance skipping over several people in hooded cloaks who were attempting to vanish into shadowy corners, a heavily veiled witch, and a man with a leather eye-patch at the bar, who glared when he noticed Harry watching him.

"Yeah," said Harry. "I can see that."

Ginny stifled a giggle.

The barman shuffled out from behind the bar and hung resentfully over the table. "What do you want?" he asked.

"Are you paying, or are we going Dutch?" Ginny asked Harry.

He blinked. "Er, I'll pay?"

"Good." Ginny turned to the barman. "Steak and kidney pie, thanks. And butterbeer."

The barman shifted his watery glare to Harry, who mumbled, "Bangers and mash." The barman nodded and shuffled off through a doorway, presumably to the kitchen.

Ginny and Harry looked at each other. "Are you sure about this?" asked Harry.

"Yeah. I said the food's not half bad." Ginny sighed. "Thanks for paying. We never have steak and kidney pie at home -- Mum says steak's too expensive, and she's not going to put up with cows in the yard along with the chickens."

Harry shook his head. "I can't believe you like that -- it's as nasty as liver."

Ginny shrugged. "I always wanted to try it when I was little -- I wanted to know what kidney was like. I finally talked Mum into making it once. The kidney bits are a little rubbery and slimy, but I like the taste."

Harry made a face. "I'd rather be on Dudley's diet. Kidney is horrible."

Ginny hid a grin. "The kidney," she said solemnly, imitating Apple's lecturing tone, "is the organ of the body where urine and other poisons are separated from the blood, concentrated, and sent to the bladder for elimination. As such, it's riddled with all sorts of chemicals the human body finds poisonous in large quantities. Are you sure you don't want any?"

Harry shot her a sour look.

Ginny snickered. "Sorry. But I am related to Fred and George."

"You hide it pretty well," said Harry. "I never noticed you had much sense of humor."

Ginny blinked, and then Harry seemed to realize how that had sounded. "Er, not that you don't have a sense of humor, just that I, er... I wasn't looking?"

"Oh. Well, we didn't talk much at all, so..." Ginny trailed off, unable to think of a polite way to say, 'So of course you didn't know anything about me, you idiot.'

She groped to restart the conversation. "You said something about Dudley's diet. He's your cousin, right?"

Harry grimaced. "Yeah."

"Why is he on a diet? The twins said he was like a giant human pig, but he can't really be that fat, can he?"

"You'd be surprised," said Harry. "Dudley... he's stupid and he's a bully," -- here his face darkened slightly -- "but he's easy to wind up. And yeah, he really was that fat -- he needed custom-made uniforms for his school, because you can't buy regular sizes that big!"

Ginny gaped. "You're pulling my leg."

"I'm not, I swear." Harry grinned at a sudden memory. "When Hagrid came to give me my Hogwarts letter, he got angry and tried to turn Dudley into a pig. But he only grew a pig's tail. Hagrid said it was because he was too much like a pig already -- the spell didn't have anything else to do."

Ginny laughed; she couldn't help herself. It seemed a bit mean, laughing at someone who'd been the victim of a spell he couldn't defend against, but the idea of a human pig... well it was funny. And Dudley had probably deserved something nasty after bullying Harry for years -- from what she'd pieced together about Harry's life, Ginny strongly suspected his family had treated him rather like a house elf.

At that point, the barman shuffled over to their table, levitating two plates and two bottles of butterbeer by his side, and conversation ceased for a minute as Ginny and Harry busied themselves with their food.

When Harry began talking again, he turned to the new Defense teacher, Professor Fade. She'd been an Unspeakable, apparently, and was serving a one-year term at Hogwarts as part of a compromise between Dumbledore and the Ministry.

"She's odd," concluded Harry, after they compared her behavior in their respective classes. "Won't teach anything but theory, but she practically shoved us into forming out-of-class practice groups. And when I say anything about Voldemort, she just gives me that creepy smile and acts like I don't exist."

"Really? Well, she probably can't agree with you or she'll lose her job," said Ginny. "She can't disagree with Minister Fudge, after all, and he won't admit anything's wrong. I bet she's not allowed to teach practical Defense either."

Harry swallowed a bit of potato. "Maybe. But she's still creepy. And I don't trust her."

Ginny shrugged and went back to her pie.

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Of Social Dynamics and the Complications Thereof:

It was strange, Ginny thought, as Harry went to the bar to pay their bill. She kept sticking her foot in her mouth, but now she thought about it, so did Harry. And he was willing to let her scramble around to restart their conversations, even if he wasn't much good at thinking of topics himself. He was also willing to not bother her when she was thinking and to listen when she talked about Tom.

This wasn't anything like the sort of day she'd expected. She'd pictured two outcomes -- hideous embarrassment, or a sort of dreamy perfect happiness -- but this awkwardness and tentative friendship by turns didn't fit either pattern.

Actually, Ginny was glad the day hadn't gone perfectly. She'd learned a lot about Harry from the way they kept running into each other's sore points. Harry was still Harry -- still too good-looking for her peace of mind, with his messy black hair and brilliant green eyes -- still with that core of unassuming goodness and strength -- but now she knew, really knew, that he was also a fifteen year old boy. He had a temper, he could be a stubborn idiot, and he was more clueless about girls than all of her brothers put together, with the possible exception of Ron.

Funny. She'd never really thought of Harry as a boy before, with all the attendant idiocy and irritating habits. He'd been Harry, her hero.

He still was, of course, Ginny assured herself, glancing over as he walked through the door to join her outside the Hog's Head. But now he was just plain Harry as well, which she'd never quite realized down in her gut before.

"You know," she said, feeling a need to tell him at least part of this. "I always used to say that it wasn't fair to treat you like a celebrity instead of a real person. But I treated you like a celebrity anyhow."

Harry looked confused. "What?"

"See, I used to tell my friends that yes, you're a hero, you saved my life -- but you're just a person, too. You're Ron's friend, you skive off your homework, you make mistakes." Ginny waved her hands. "Not bad mistakes, but enough so you're not perfect. And that means you're human.

"I said all that, but I never tried to talk to you. I was too embarrassed, because you'd saved my life, because you are a hero. So even though I said it wasn't fair to treat you differently, I treated you differently anyhow."

"Huh." Harry shoved his hands in his pockets. "No wonder I don't have any friends."

"Sorry about that," said Ginny, wincing.

Harry shook his head. "It's not your fault. I just..." He paused, looking at the other people on the street, and lowered his voice to a vicious whisper. "I'm supposed to be a hero, right? Voldemort's back and he wants to kill me. There were Aurors all around when Professor Lupin took me to King's Cross, Professor Fade told me to form Defense groups, I'm the one who feels it when Voldemort's happy or angry -- and nobody tells me anything."

He was walking faster now, almost stalking, and Ginny hurried to keep up. "It's like I'm a tool they keep in a box and only take out for special occasions. But either I'm going to have to face Voldemort or I'm not -- and if I am, I want to know what's going on!"

Ginny flinched at the scowl fixed on Harry's mouth and the dark shadows in his eyes. "They don't tell us anything either," she said tentatively. "We tried spying on Order meetings this summer but they caught on pretty quickly. Some of them don't want to keep you in the dark, but I think everyone else is worried about upsetting you."

"Voldemort wants me dead. How is having no idea what he's up to supposed to calm me down?"

Ginny shrugged. "I haven't the foggiest idea, especially since I know you'll end up right in the middle of everything anyway. And this time, I'm coming too!" She glanced up the street, still fairly empty at this end of town, and added, "So are Ron and Hermione, who, by the way, are headed right for us."

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Of Friends and Family:

Harry stuffed his scowl away and turned a vaguely happy face toward his friends. "Hi, Ron. Hi, Hermione."

"Hey, Harry," returned Ron. Then, while Hermione cornered Harry, he drifted to Ginny's side and muttered, "He hasn't done anything awful, has he? Because even if he's my friend..."

Ginny stuck her tongue out at her brother. "Grow up! We just talked and ate lunch. I did more with Eugene Skelter last year."

A thunderous frown spread over Ron's face. "Eugene Skelter? What did he do?"

"Gave me chocolates and kissed me on the cheek." Ginny shrugged nonchalantly. "Not that it's any of your business."

"Chocolates?" Ron's scowl deepened.

Ginny hid a grin -- Ron was far too easy to wind up. "Yeah, really nice ones, with fillings and everything. For Valentine's Day. It was awfully romantic..." She paused significantly. "Of course, he's going out with Jasmine Pringle from Hufflepuff now."

"The sodding bastard left you for a Hufflepuff?" Oh, that was just beautiful, the way Ron flushed and clenched his fists. She'd better pull the rug out before he stomped off to do something rash.

"No, you toad-licker -- I turned him down." Ginny tossed her head in imitation of Susan's I-am-the-queen-of-all-I-survey gesture, and beamed at Ron's befuddled expression. "Girls can do that, you know."

Ron glanced guiltily at Hermione, a half-second's flicker of his eyes that Ginny would have missed if she hadn't been watching for it. He still remembered the Yule Ball, then. Good. Ron was a boy so Ginny took occasional fits of drastic stupidity for granted, but that had definitely been one of his worst moments.

As his sister and Hermione's friend, she was doubly bound to remind him of it.

Anyhow, she didn't want to let Hermione monopolize Harry -- not that she had any suspicion of her friend, but she didn't want to lose her new ability to actually talk to Harry and she needed to distract Ron before he realized she'd been winding him up on purpose.

"So," Ginny said loudly, pulling closer to Harry and Hermione, "what did you and Ron do without us?"

Hermione smiled ruefully. "Nothing in particular, unfortunately. Ron took forever in Zonko's and Honeydukes, of course, but I finally managed to get to the bookstore."

"It's not like you didn't take bloody forever in there," Ron protested. "Then you had to go and help Neville buy more potions ingredients -- bloody useless if you ask me -- he'll just blow them all up again."

"Ron! Language!" Hermione's eyes flashed. "You shouldn't poke fun at Neville. It isn't his fault Snape makes him nervous."

"Snape's a greasy bastard," muttered Harry, to which all three nodded in agreement.

"He swoops around and glares at you like an overgrown bat," said Ginny, "or sits at his desk and oozes nastiness around the room. Everyone drops the wrong things into cauldrons when he pops up behind your back."

Hermione sniffed. "It's entirely his fault my Hex-Detection potion from last week was ruined, but he took five points off Gryffindor anyway. Would it kill him to be fair now and then?"

"I think it might, actually," said Ron, sounding oddly thoughtful. "We told you what he was like over the summer, right, Harry? Acted like he was fighting a war all by himself and everyone else was getting in his way.

"We walked in on him and Sir-- on him and Snuffles about to hex each other, once," Ron continued. "You remember, Ginny? Snape said he was just -- what did he say -- oh yeah, 'getting rid of dead weight,' and then he flapped out. Didn't even care that it was Snuffles's house, or that he'd get kicked out of the Order if he did anything.

"It's like he cares more about hating people than anything else."

Harry had sunk into glowering silence during this speech, and Ginny glared at her brother, her hand snaking over to clutch Harry's arm without her conscious direction. It wasn't enough that she'd been hitting all Harry's sore points -- now Ron had to join in? Why couldn't he ever use his brain when he was dealing with people? It was a lot easier than chess.

Ginny cast a significant glance at Hermione, who was studying Harry with a worried expression. When that didn't work, Ginny added a cough, and raised her eyebrows when Hermione turned toward the sound, flicking her eyes from Harry to Ron.

"Oh!" said Hermione, and then, more calmly, "Oh, Ron, I just remembered -- there was a book I wanted to buy, but I forgot about it when Neville ran into us. Come help me find it again." She grabbed Ron's arm and tugged him in the direction of the high street.

"But..." said Ron, and then caught the glare Ginny turned on him. He looked from her to Harry, saw Harry's blank, abstracted gaze and dark scowl, and noticed her hand clutching Harry's arm. "Oh. Right. See you later, Harry."

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Of Letters:

Ginny sighed in relief as Hermione and Ron walked off. "Harry?" she asked, shaking his arm. Wait. Since when had she been holding his arm? How had she not noticed that? Had he noticed that?

Think about that later, she told herself. Right now, worry about snapping him out of his brooding. "Harry? Harry, stop sulking!"

"I'm not sulking," said Harry. "I was thinking about Snuffles."

"Snuffles? He hates being locked up in his house, he goes around snapping at people and then mopes for hours, he misses you, and if you really want to get in touch with him, you should try learning some code and cipher charms and sending letters through Professor Lupin or Mum." Ginny considered that. "Actually, Hermione said someone was intercepting your post, so you should let someone else send them off for you."

Harry looked at her as though she were deeply stupid. "Codes can be broken. And what makes you think people aren't watching your post too? Your family's in the Order."

"Oh." That had actually never occurred to her. "You mean people are going through my private letters? Scum-sucking, toad-licking, unscrupulous, pestilent bastards!"

"They might not be," said Harry, sounding surprised at her outburst. "Who do you write to, anyway? Your mum?"

"Merlin, no -- she's my mum!"

Harry blinked as if that made no sense. "Then who?"

Ginny flushed. "Bill. And Professor Lupin."

"Really?"

"Yeah. He, er, he was nice my second year, with the dementors. I kept hearing Tom and I'd feel him pulling..." Ginny cut herself off; she'd told Harry quite enough about that for one day. "Sometimes it's nice to talk to someone who isn't in the middle of everything. And he reads over my essays before they're due -- he says it reminds him of how he liked teaching."

"Oh." Harry turned them down a side street, heading back toward the castle while avoiding the high street of Hogsmeade and its freight of students. "It's good you can talk to him."

"Well, you have Snuffles," said Ginny awkwardly. "You can always write to him about things that aren't, you know, life and death. I bet he'd like that -- he's awfully bored. Even if people are reading your letters that won't give anything away." She grimaced again at the thought of people pawing through her post. It would have been worse if she'd still kept a diary and someone read that, but for obvious reasons she'd never wanted to try that again.

"I suppose," said Harry, not sounding terribly enthusiastic. "I don't want to put him... he might decide I'm in trouble and come out here again -- and I think Malfoy knows what Snuffles looks like."

"Oh. Yeah, that could be bad."

Actually, thought Ginny, it was almost as if Harry was looking for reasons not to write to Sirius. Did he really think a weekly report of what he did in lessons would bring his godfather down to Hogwarts on a crazed rescue mission? Then again, Harry was obviously no good at starting conversations, and he kept clamming up, brooding, or getting angry when she got too close to something personal. Maybe he just didn't know what to say.

Or maybe he'd decided Sirius was a sort of substitute father. It was awfully hard to write letters to parents -- you always worried what they'd think about you.

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Of Kissing, Revisited:

They walked in silence until they were almost back to Hogwarts -- Ginny torn between worrying about Harry and admiring the colors of early autumn leaves, and Harry presumably brooding about Sirius again. As they passed the Shrieking Shack, Ginny let her hand slip down his arm until Harry absently caught hold with his own hand. He probably didn't mean anything by it, no more than he'd meant anything by holding her hand on their way into town that morning, but Ginny liked the contact. This time she wasn't fretting and letting her hands get sweaty with nervousness.

At the castle doors, Harry drew to a stop and released her hand. "Erm."

"Yes?" asked Ginny.

"I'm sorry I wasn't better company, and, er, thanks?"

Oh? Oh! "You were fine," Ginny said hastily. "And thanks for coming with me. I had a good time, and I'm glad we got to know each other better."

Harry flushed slightly. "Yeah, me too." There was a drawn-out pause. "Er, are we supposed to do anything now?"

Oh God, not now! She'd got over being nervous, she'd got over expecting anything romantic, she'd been learning how to be his friend, and now he was asking about kissing? "Maybe?" said Ginny, the squeak creeping back into her voice. "If you want to?"

"Oh. Er..." Harry stared blankly at nothing in particular.

Right. Okay. This was it. Take a chance, Susan had said in the morning; boys aren't likely to say no to pretty girls who want to kiss them. What was the worst that could happen?

Ginny leaned forward, rose on her toes, tilted her head a little to the right, and, mouth barely open, kissed Harry -- using no tongue; that still sounded icky, no matter what Susan said..

Harry twitched, and then tentatively kissed back.

The press of lips on lips was, for lack of a better word, strange. His were a little chapped, and she could taste the butterbeer they'd both been drinking. This wasn't something to get all that excited about -- it was warm and pleasant, but there wasn't any desperate passion. Maybe that took practice?

After a few seconds, Ginny pulled back. "There."

Harry seemed slightly dazed, green eyes wide with some unnamed emotion. "Oh. Er, yeah." He almost grabbed Ginny's hand again, but at the last moment he pulled back and shoved his hands into his pockets.

They walked into the castle, heading for Gryffindor Tower.

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End of chapter 4