Snitch

 Chapter Three: Similarities

 

            With all the chaos that Fred and George brought with their firework surprise, Michael and I left our argument unfinished, and we avoided the subject for the rest of the day. Unfortunately, we also avoided just about every other subject under the sun. I was so riled that, although we never spoke of it, it was hard to think of anything else. I couldn’t help feeling horribly uncomfortable just talking to a him – a boy that I was used to seeing and talking to everyday.

            It was like I was in first year all over again.

            Thankfully, it was Michael who finally came to me first, inviting me after supper to talk outside in the courtyard. Actually, it was a rather keen idea, because it was just after dusk, and the fireworks could be seen even better than before.

            Michael laid out his robe on a level patch of grass for us to sit down upon, and we both stared up, watching colorful spinning Catherine Wheels and obscene words light up the darkening sky.

            “Lovely night for fireworks, don’t you think.?” he asked casually.

            “Yeah,” I said amused, shifting in my seat to read the latest banner of light across the sky. “There’s nothing more romantic than watching fireworks that say ‘Umbridge: The real reason mountain trolls should consider using birth control’.”

            He laughed out loud for a moment, but it quickly subsided with an uncomfortable sigh.

            All right, so he got us both here, but it looked like I was the one who was to make any attempt at reconciliation.. “Okay, so this isn’t the most romantic place in the world, but we have each other, right?”

            “Yeah, sure,” he answered, rather unenthusiastically.

            I reached over and tilted his chin towards me, so he would have no other choice but to face me. I looked into Michael’s pale blue eyes, which complimented his dark skin, hoping for resolution. “Michael, I don’t want to fight with you. I hate to do it, honestly. Can’t we come to some sort of compromise?”

            “But how can we Ginny?”

            I sat up, crossing my legs to in order to better face him. “Look,” I said rationally. “Let’s just agree to disagree, all right?”

            “Agree to disagree?”

            “Sure,” I continued, giving him my best Weasley grin. “We can’t always agree on everything, you know.”

            “Ginny, this is different – “

            “But why? Why does it have to be any different?” I pleaded. “People disagree everyday, and still are able to respect each other’s differences. My parents are a perfect example. Or look at Luna Lovegood.”

            “Luna?” asked Michael, giving me a rather odd look.

            “Yes, Luna,” I said rather hastily in defense. “Though I don’t always agree with how she goes about things, I still appreciate what a truly special person she is. Despite how others think of and treat her.”

            He said nothing at first, but after a moment Michael sighed, and turned to me with a smile warm enough to melt my heart. “I suppose you’re right Ginny. We’ve been going about this all wrong. We don’t have to agree on everything. Couples fight. It’s something we just have to get used to about each other. The important thing is how we feel about each other.”

            Finally, he understands! I knew he would come around sooner or later. I put out my hand to shake on it. “Agreed?”

            Taking my hand, Michael shook it. “Agreed.” he held onto my hand, and he gave me a look of seriousness that I never seen in his face before now. He brought his other hand to mine, clasping them together. “Ginny, how do you feel about me?”

            At that moment, I didn’t hesitate or hold back in any way. His words affected me in such a way that I couldn’t help but answer, my heart and my head for once in agreement. “I love you, Michael.”

            He pulled me close and we embraced, and the warmth of his body against mine created a peculiar flush that I’d never known before. When he kissed me, my entire body melded into him.

            Laying me down on the grass, he pulled himself up slightly to look at me, and he touched my face gently, tracing the outline of my jaw before he leaned in again to kiss me. A chill suddenly swept through the air and it seemed that the only way to stay in this comfortable warmth was to entwine our bodies passionately.

            I even let him touch me beneath my jumper – something that I swore I wouldn’t do with anyone but Harry. But, my teenage hormones got the best of me. At the time it seemed like Harry was a million miles away. Michael and I were the only ones left in the world.

            So there we were, Michael and I, snogging in the middle of the courtyard. We rolled over again and I pulled away slightly myself, to brush his untidy hair from his eyes, which had conveniently fallen in his face as we kissed, tickling my nose. I don’t understand why the thought even crossed my mind, but when I brushed his hair away, I half expected to see a small lighting-shaped scar in the middle of his forehead. An involuntary shudder ran through me when I realized my thoughts were drifting away from Michael to Harry.

            Always to Harry.

            The thought stole the joy of the moment away from me as I sat up quickly, and Michael’s intimate touch fell from my skin.

            “What’s the matter? Did I do something wrong?” he asked, looking hurt.

            I straightened my jumper and got up, brushing the grass from my skirt. “No. Of course not. I just realized how late it is. It’s probably after curfew already.”

            “Are you sure?”

            “Honest,” I said, offering him a hand up. “We really should get going, Michael.”

            And Michael walked me back to Gryffindor Tower without saying another word.

 

            *          *          *

 

            “Hermione, can I ask you a question?” 

            “Sure. What is it?”

            “Do you think that Michael resembles Harry?”

            Hermione smiled into her book before raising her head to face me. “What makes you say that?” she asked, pressing her lips together to keep her amused smile from becoming a full on grin.

            My cheeks flushed, and I knew instantly that she understood what I was talking about. She had just been waiting for me to acknowledge it. “Don’t play coy with me, Hermione. You know what I mean. I just cant believe that I never noticed it until now. Dark hair, light eyes. Even the same build, though Michael is quite a bit taller than Harry is. Don’t tell me you don’t see it!”

            Hermione put her book down in her lap and looked at me. “Well, I didn’t want to say anything. But you’re right – there are some obvious similarities between Michael and Harry.

            “So what does this mean?”

            “It means only what you want it to mean, Ginny.”

            “I don’t understand.”

            “What I mean to say is that you read into it what you want to read into it, Gin. If you think the reason you’re dating Michael is because he looks like Harry then you probably are. But if you’re dating him because you like him for him, then there is really no point in asking such a question.”

            “Oh Hermione, I’m so confused. I just don’t know what to think.”

            “Let me put it to you this way. Why are you doubting your feelings for Michael in the first place?”

            I didn’t want to admit it, but I already knew the answer to Hermione’s question. As if you had to guess. It has been plaguing my mind since the evening before the holiday began.

            Harry.

            I knew that he hadn’t talked to Cho since shortly after Umbridge became Headmistress. Like me, Harry was still angry with Marietta for her betrayal of the D.A. And there was no doubt in my mind about how Cho felt, but unlike Michael and myself, they hadn’t been able to get past it, and hadn’t spoken to each other since. Personally, for as ignorantly loyal as Michael and Cho are in defense of Marietta’s actions, I would have pegged them for being Hufflepuffs rather than Ravenclaws.

            Ever since, Harry seemed more angry and distant than ever before. I was sure that it was because of Cho, that he continued to act as he did at the start of term. He really did like her, so I became determined to help him. After all, I had found and understanding and happiness with Michael – even if he looked remotely similar to the ‘Boy Who Lived’. It was time I let go. Harry should be allowed the same happiness, right? 

            Did I actually say that?

 

            *          *          *

 

            On the breezy Sunday evening of Easter, I noticed during Quidditch practice that Errol and Pig were hauling a parcel towards the castle.

            “Looks like our Easter eggs are here eh, Ron?” I called out to my brother. But he hadn’t heard me – he was far too focused on his goal keeping to notice much of anything during practice.

            But practice ended early that day as one of our replacement Beaters, Jack Sloper, had clobbered himself with his own bat. Ron, with Angelina and a hysterical Katie (as it is quite obvious that she had begun to fancy him), helped Jack to the hospital wing, I made my way back to the common room to see what Mum and Dad had sent us.

            I found Colin and Dennis Creevy there playing wizard chess. “Hello Ginny,” Dennis said excitedly. “You’re back early. Did practice go all right?”

            “Not exactly, Dennis,” I said shortly. I wasn’t in the mood to get into that discussion at the moment. “Look, have either you seen a couple of owls come through here? I’m expecting some Easter gifts from my family.”

            “Well after the whole episode with the D.A., you’ll be lucky to see them at all then.” Colin replied with a smirk. “I hear Umbridge is checking all the packages herself for conspirator evidence.”

            That figures. That twitchy cow wouldn’t know a silly Easter Egg from a Fwopper Egg. Like my Mum and Dad would be idiotic enough to go about sending us secret messages. “Yeah, she’s probably looking for a secret note to Harry from Dumbledore or something,” I said thinking out loud. “She’d do anything to get him expelled from Hogwarts.”

            Dennis frowned slightly at my mention of Harry. “I don’t know why you ever mix yourself up with him sometimes,” he grumbled just enough for me to hear him, as he stared at the chessboard. But his thoughts were obviously elsewhere, as I noticed he was about to miss a great opportunity to take Colin’s knight.

            “Well, I best be off to the library then,” I said, pretending not to notice his remark. Just as I made it to portrait hole, a very somber Ron stumbled through. And he was carrying Mum’s parcel.

            “Look what Mum sent us, Gin,” he said. Ron flopped down on in the sofa beside Dennis and ripped open the box.

            “How did you get that?” I asked, stunned that he was able to retrieve the package so quickly.

            “McGonagall sent this along with me when I told her about Sloper. It seems that Umbridge is now checking the mail too,” Ron said, glancing at the chessboard. He nudged Dennis in the arm. “Castle to C4 – anyway, I hope she didn’t get her bloody hands all over my chocolate, that would be disgusting – ahh . . .” He quickly unwrapped the egg, which had little broomsticks and goal posts all over it, pulled off a piece and plopped it into his mouth. “Mmm . . . delicious. Hey, has anyone seen Harry and Hermione? It looks like Mum sent them eggs too.”

            “No,” I said, and pretending not to care.

            “Hermione is upstairs studying,” Colin said unabashedly. “And Harry is down in the library, I believe.” Still the little stalker he is. I swear I think sometimes that Colin fancies Harry too.

            “Well, I was on my way there to search for Michael. I’ll take it to him if you like,” I offered.

            “That’s a great idea Ginny,” Ron said, sounding more cheerful, as he handed me Harry’s present. “Harry could use some cheering up anyway.”

            Now what do you suppose he meant by that?

 

            *          *          * 

 

            One of the most peculiar things about my relationship with Harry is that I’ve always been able to pick up on his ever changing moods. Not that it’s been all that difficult to do, mind you – his bitterness has been more than apparent lately. But I’ve always been able to tell when he’s feeling lonely or helpless – even when he tries his hardest to conceal it, I’m able to see right through it. Being able to understand him in a way no one else does (especially when it comes to Tom Riddle) is one thing, but being able to deal with him when he’s like this is a whole other Quidditch match.

            I could tell from the moment I saw him sitting alone in a far corner of the library, that he was upset about something. He didn’t seem upset to look at him, but his brow was slightly furrowed and the far off look he made as he stared out the window, deep in thought, said everything.

            Approaching him quietly, I still debated whether or not to disturb him. I was sure he was thinking of Cho. “Good evening, Harry. Ron asked me to bring you your Easter Eggs from Mum.”

            Harry stared on, oblivious to hearing me. “Harry, I’m talking to you, can you hear me?”

            “Huh?” he said, snapping out of his thoughts and finally looking at me. And for a moment, I wished I had changed out of my Quidditch robes before I left for the library. “Oh hi. How come you’re not at practice?”

            Did he have to ask? It wasn’t a thought I was too keen on bringing up at this point.“It’s over,” I grumbled. “Ron had to take Jack Sloper up to the hospital wing.”

            “Why?”

            “Well, we’re not sure, but we think he knocked himself out with his own bat. Anyway . . . a package just arrived, it’s only just got through Umbridge’s new screening process.” I handed him the package, which looked as though it went through a shredder first. “It’s Easter eggs from Mum . . . there’s one for you . . . there you go.”

            It was the first time I had really talked to Harry since the holiday began, and my uncomfortable tryst with Michael. I still wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about the situation - I mean, for an moment (and an intimate moment at that), I’d wished that Michael was Harry. I should be feeling guilty about being with Harry, shouldn’t I? But my heart reached out for this saddened soul before me, needing to console him.

            As I gave him his Easter egg, he looked like he could burst into tears right on the spot. It was all I could do to keep myself from wrapping my arms around him in comfort.

            “Are you okay, Harry?” I asked wearily. I was sure that he was still upset about his quarrel with Cho.

            “Yeah, I’m fine,” he said.

            Yeah right, I thought. I knew he wasn’t fine. So very much unlike Michael. Why does Harry have to shut down like this, when it’s now that he needs to open up the most? What is he so afraid of?

            Unlike my relationship with Michael, I seemed to care more about helping Harry open up and talking to me - even if it was about a daft Ravenclaw Seeker.

            So, I decided to go the friend route. After all, he deserved every happiness that I do, and if there was something I could do to help him, then dammit, I will. Even if she is a sodding hosepipe that won’t stop running. “You seem really down lately,” I said. “You know, I’m sure if you just talked to Cho . . .”

            “It’s not Cho I want to talk to,” he said with finality. And by the tone of his voice, I realized that it was finally over between them.

            So it should be really no surprise then that my stomach felt like it bungee jumped from my throat to my knees. Oh Merlin, let me hear those bittersweet words again! I leaned in closer to him, anxious to hear more. “Who is it, then?” I asked anxiously.

            “I . . .”

            And then it happened – Harry confided in me. Well a little. “I wish I could talk to Sirius, but I know I can’t. Being his Godfather, Sirius was a confidant to Harry, and outside of the Weasley clan, the only family he really had. But due to the ever-increasing restrictions of Umbridge’s Educational Decrees, it seemed almost every line of communication from Harry to Sirius had been severed.

            I watched him closely, as he unwrapped his egg and put a piece into his mouth. “Well,” I said, unsure of myself, as I broke off a bit of egg too. I wouldn’t give up on making him feel a bit better, not if I could help it anyway. “If you really want to talk to Sirius, I expect we could think of a way to do it . . .”

            He looked at me as though he thought I were mad. “Come on, with Umbridge policing the fires and reading all our mail?”

            I grinned as a slightly evil idea sprung into my mind. How quickly he forgets who I’m related to. “The thing about growing up with Fred and George,” I said bemusedly. “Is that you sort of start thinking anything’s possible if you’ve got enough nerve.”

            Harry seemed pleased by the support regardless, smiling sweetly as he always did, making the butterflies flutter in my stomach again. It was a tender moment between the two of us, and I wished it could have gone on forever.

            Unfortunately for us, my judgement about bringing the chocolate eggs into the library proved to be disastrous. Madam Pince shooed us both from the library like Filch after Peeves.

            We laughed our way down the corridor and back to the common room, where Ron, Hermione and the twins were likely already into their own candy.

            Harry stared down at his egg as we walked down the hall. “Thanks, Ginny.”

            “For what?” I asked.

            He stopped and bore into me with his brilliant green eyes. “For bringing me the egg. For listening to me. And for . . . just being a friend.”

            I grinned. “Anytime, Harry.”

            He looked back to his egg. “I suppose we’d better get inside then.”

            I understood what he had tried to say. Though Ron and Hermione were his best friends, they sometimes lost sight of what’s really best for him.

            Harry having confided in me made my heart soar. Knowing that it was me who he finally went to about seeing Sirius was beyond words. I had to help him contact Sirius. And I knew just who to go to for help . . .

            Fred and George.