More Than Words

Ginny sat on the edge of the pitch, right leg straight in front, her left foot resting on the inside of her thigh. She reached for the toes of her outstretched foot, loosening the muscles in her calf. She swapped her feet and repeated the procedure with her left leg. She unfolded her right leg and stretched it out, wrapping her hands over the toes of her trainers. From the corner of her eye, she could see one of the other women performing the same stretch, except the bridge of her nose rested on her knees. Ginny felt a wave of consternation because there was still a gap of at least two inches between the tip of her nose and her knees. She scrambled to her feet and swung her right arm in a circle in one direction several times, then reversed it. She switched her arms and did the exercise once more. A woman clad in the dark green-and-gold robes of the Harpies approached the cluster of women near Ginny, a clipboard held loosely in one hand. 'I'm Marion,' she stated. 'The senior Chaser of the team.'

'But not the captain?' one of the other women asked. Marion smiled thinly and shook her head. The woman snorted. 'Senior, but not good enough to be the captain,' she added sotto voce, but Marion heard every word. Her eyes narrowed and Ginny had a sneaking suspicion that it was a mark against the woman.

Marion looked down at the clipboard. 'There are three Chaser positions we need to fill - one Reserve and two on the practice squad.' Ginny glanced surreptitiously around, counting four others. 'I'd like you to tell me who you are, and what other position you play,' she said, as if she didn't already know exactly who each of them were, and what they could do.

The woman who had spoken to Marion piped up. 'Sondra Hemmings. Chaser, obviously, and Beater.' She grinned smugly.

'Aimee Wellington and I can play Keeper in addition to Chasing.'

'Felicia Barnes-Dare. Beater.' Felicia spoke with an economy of words and began checking over her broom.

'Daisy Pike and I play Chaser and Seeker.' Ginny's head came up warily. She inhaled deeply to steady her nerves before she opened her mouth.

'Ginny Weasley,' she said quietly. 'Chaser and Seeker.' She exchanged a look with Daisy, the two of them silently evaluating the other. She didn't miss the scathing looks Aimee and Sondra aimed at her.

'What we're going to do today is have you play a scrimmage against the practice squad, taking turns in both positions you can play. Final placements will be announced Friday morning.' She consulted the clipboard. 'Weasley, Hemmings, and Wellington, you're going to Chase this time. Pike, you're going to Seek, since we're not looking for a person who primarily plays Seeker. Go take some laps around the pitch.' Ginny didn't need to be told twice. She mounted her broom and kicked off, shooting into the clear, salt-scented air.

Gwenog ambled toward Marion. 'What do you think?' she murmured, looking up at the players flying in swirls around the stands.

'Talking about attitude or skills?'

'Either one.'

Marion glanced over her shoulder. 'The blonde,' she said so softly, she nearly mouthed it. 'Hasn't learned to mind her voice.'

'Mmmm.' Gwenog nodded once. 'Anyone else?'

Marion hesitated, because she knew how Gwenog had raved about the girl. 'The little one.'

Gwenog merely raised a straight brow. 'And?'

'There's independence, and there's independence.'

'Could she be a detriment to team cohesion?'

Marion shrugged. 'Might. Unless you want to spend the effort to change her mind.'

Gwenog rubbed a forefinger over her eyebrow. 'Let's see how the next two days go.' She grinned, but there was no joy in it. 'A little humility never hurt anyone.'

xxxxxx

Ginny huddled with the other people that would make up the team for this scrimmage. Besides the players from her group, there were Julia and Kimmie, the other person trying for the one Beater position, and Jocelyn who was looking to fill one of the Keeper slots. 'Right, I've got the most experience, so I'll captain this go,' Sondra said loftily, before any of the others had a chance to say anything.

'Why does it have to be you?' Kimmie snorted. 'Bouncing from team to team doesn't translate into experience.' She tightened the strap on one of her gloves. 'Daisy's been with one team the longest.' Sondra glowered, almost pouting.

Daisy shook her head, dark brown hair flying around her face. 'Rather not Seek and try and captain at the same time. If Sondra wants it, she can have it,' she said, wilting under the attention. Julia nudged Ginny and tilted her head toward the middle of the huddle. Ginny shook her head slightly. Julia sighed and glared at Ginny. Ginny pointedly looked away. She didn't want to admit how deeply the catty comments in the changing room had cut, and putting herself up for captain would ensure more of those sorts of remarks.

'I think Ginny ought to do it,' Julia said. 'She was captain of her house team at school. She's the one with recent experience at it.' The suggestion was met with stony silence.

'Sondra wants it,' Ginny mumbled, tucking a strand of loose hair back into her plait. 'She can have it.' Sondra smirked and flounced to the center of the pitch.

'What are you doing?' Julia hissed.

'I don't want to be distracted,' Ginny told her. 'I'm not here to show off my captaining ability. I'm here to play.' She motioned toward Sondra, preening under her fleeting title. 'Want to lay odds on her failing as the captain because she's so concerned about impressing Gwenog?'

Julia pulled her goggles up. 'What makes you so sure?'

Ginny pursed her lips. 'See how she's not trying to talk about a strategy with the entire team? She's just waiting for the rest of us to follow her.'

'And how would you know so much about it?' Julia sniffed, allowing disdain to creep into her voice for the first time.

'My brothers' captain at school was Oliver Wood. Reserve Keeper for Puddlemere right out of school, you know.' Ginny paused slightly, allowing a knowing looks to settle over her face. 'He never asked them to do something he wasn't willing to do himself. And before every practice and every game, every player knew exactly what they were going to do.' Ginny straddled her broom and settled her goggles over her eyes. 'Good luck.'

'You, too.' Julia waited until Ginny was aloft before she made a moue of displeasure. She might be friendly to her, but Julia was like the others at the trial - there for herself, and Ginny's cocksure attitude wasn't going to endear her to the other women jostling for five positions spread amongst the Reserves and the practice squad.

The whistle sounded shrilly and with a flash of gold, Gwenog released the Snitch. As Ginny had predicted, Sondra wasted a great deal of time, screaming at the other Chasers, attempting to mount some sort of offensive tactic. Unfortunately, this only served to alert the other team to their plans. Ginny dodged a Bludger, waving in Sondra's direction. Sondra, to be fair, was surrounded by the Chasers from the opposing team. Sighing, Ginny streaked for Sondra, diving for the space underneath, hoping the woman had her wits about her. Sondra managed to pull up slightly, then fairly hurled the Quaffle down to Ginny, who heaved a sigh of relief that Sondra was able to read her intentions. Ginny was able to catch the Quaffle with little trouble. The Porskoff Ploy was a maneuver she had practiced with Demelza and Natalie last year over and over. It became their signature move. Tucking the Quaffle against her body, Ginny embarked on a course to the goalposts designed to throw off the opposing Chasers as much as possible. She feinted toward the left, but the ball curved to the right, soaring through the glittering hoop.

The sound of Gwenog's whistle was the sweetest sound Ginny had heard in days.

At least I can do this right, she thought grimly.

'Forty to ten, Practice!' Gwenog shouted.

Ginny allowed a small triumphant smile to show for just a moment. She returned to the center of the pitch, glancing upward at Daisy. Daisy looked a little confused, head moving from side to side, searching for the Snitch. Daisy looked as if she was a tad over her head.

Ten minutes later, Gwenog blew the whistle, signaling the end of the scrimmage. Ginny went to the side, wiping sweat from her face. 'Weasley, you and Pike will switch,' Marion informed her, handing her a flask of water. 'Hemmings, sit this one out,' she added stiffly. 'Barnes-Dare, you're going in to Chase.' Ginny recapped the flask, and headed back to the pitch, gratified all her extra hours of practice at Hogwarts had paid off.

She kicked off, ignoring the sweat dripping into her eyes. She flew in lazy circles around the pitch, waiting for Gwenog to release the Snitch. She was caught unawares when Gwenog finally did, so startled, Ginny almost fell off her broom. She righted herself quickly, hoping no one else had noticed.

Ginny flew in expansive arcs around the pitch, looking everywhere for a glint of silver wings. She thought she saw it, and darted to intercept the Snitch, but it was merely the light reflecting off an opposing player's wedding ring. Cursing quietly, Ginny resumed her patient quest for the elusive sphere. She started weaving in figure eights, evading Bludgers, attempting to maintain her focus on the game, and not make a complete fool of herself. She had more than her position to consider. She had to consider her reputation.

And then she saw it. Hovering near the stands. Pulling up tightly, Ginny spun on the end of her broom and urged it forward, nearly begging it for more speed, until she pulled one hand from the handle of her broom, and seized it, gripping it so tightly, even the wings were unable to protrude through her fingers.

The whistle blew again and Ginny gratefully floated to the ground, limp with relief.

'Weasley, sit this one out,' Gwenog barked. Ginny handed her the Snitch and threw herself to the grass, panting, muscles quivering.

xxxxxx

Gwenog stood at one end of the pitch with the members of her team. 'So?'

Marion spoke first. 'Cut Hemmings and Pike,' she said with only a touch of ruthlessness. 'Hemmings thinks it's a solo act and Pike is... well... She's not up to snuff. Not to be a Harpy. When she played Seeker, she looked lost.'

Gwenog nodded shortly. 'And the little one?'

Marion inhaled deeply. 'Keeps her head down and does what she needs to do. Her personal life might become an issue.' She drew a circle in the grass with her toes. 'I wonder if she's able to handle it when things don't go her way.' She jerked her head toward the practice squad milling about under one set of goal posts. 'They went pretty easy on them.'

'Understood.' Gwenog turned to Helen, her senior Beater. 'Well?'

'Keep Julia. The other two, I'll leave up to you.'

Gwenog consulted her own notes and glanced at her Keeper. 'What do you have to say?'

Caroline glanced at the group of women, slumped wearily on the grass. 'There's only two. Might as well have them both back tomorrow.'

'So our cut list is Hemmings, Pike, Cooke, and Davidson,' Gwenog stated. 'Any disagreements?'

Mandy, the other Beater studied the women over Caroline's shoulder. 'Cut the first Keeper,' she said bluntly. 'She let too many Quaffles through for my taste.'

Matilda, the Seeker chuckled. 'Letting any through is too much for you, Mands.' She sobered a little. 'She's got a point. Remember the last World Cup? Catching the Snitch is well-neigh useless, unless you've got a bloody good Keeper.' She tapped Gwenog's clipboard. 'And we can always have a trial just for a Keeper later.'

Gwenog made a sound in the back of her throat and approached the apprehensive group. 'Could you stand, please?' Even then, she noted which ones scrambled to their feet, and which ones were slow to rise. 'When I call your name, step forward. Cooke. Davidson. Hemmings. Pike. Ralston.' Sondra simpered at Ginny as she stepped forward. 'Those of you in the back, get cleaned up and be back here at ten tomorrow morning. The front line, thank you for your time.'

Sondra's face paled, then flushed, leaving her skin unbecomingly mottled. 'Wh-what do you mean, "Thank you for your time"?'

The ones who would return in the morning, hung back to watch the exchange. Gwenog shifted her clipboard under her arm. 'I mean, thank you for your time. You needn't come back tomorrow.' She drew Sondra aside. 'I mean your trial with the Harpies is over,' she said quietly. 'Clear your things from the changing room and go.'

Sondra jerked her arm from Gwenog's grasp and flounced away, roughly shoving Ginny aside. Ginny bit her tongue, and rubbed her arm where Sondra's shoulder had rammed into it. 'Made it through to round two,' Julia murmured, falling into step next to Ginny. 'You're a good flier,' she offered.

'You have to be in my family,' Ginny said. 'One of my brothers was offered a trial to Seek for England. The rest of them, except one, all played for Gryffindor. All of us that played Quidditch at school were on teams that won the Cup.' She shrugged expansively. 'We play each other, and none of my brothers ever held back because I'm a girl. They were rougher, I think.' She smiled impishly. 'And I used to break into the broom shed and nick their brooms at night. Started doing that when I was six.'

Julia stared open-mouthed at Ginny. 'You're serious about all this, aren't you?'

'Aren't you?'

'Well, yeah, it's just...' Julia trailed off embarrassed. She underestimated Ginny's drive, figuring she was merely a dilettante that Gwenog wanted for the notoriety of having Harry Potter's girlfriend on the team in some capacity. 'One hears things...' she said lamely.

'Yes, they do.' Ginny seethed inwardly. She unlocked the locker with her things and grabbed her bag, heading for a vacant shower stall. She picked up a couple of towels and locked the door behind her, then stripped off her sweaty clothes, as she twisted a tap. The stall was charmed and all the outside noise suddenly ceased. Hot water instantly flowed from the showerhead and Ginny ducked under it, toes wiggling against the tile in glee. She stood under the spray for several long moments, studying a row of bottles suspended upside down against the wall. A bewildering array of soaps, shampoos, and conditioners lined the wall under the showerhead. Ginny hesitantly held her hand out under a spout and a generous dollop of shampoo gurgled into her palm. She worked it through her hair, then rinsed it, letting the water sluice through it. She used her fingers to comb a conditioner from scalp to the ends of her hair, then coiled her hair on top of her head to get it out of her way so she could wash.

As she liberally soaped a face cloth, Ginny surveyed her arms, looking for bruises. There weren't very many, and she preened at the idea she'd managed to evade most Bludgers and all but the most flagrant fouls. She had a suspicion the practice squad had held back a bit, and was under no illusions that tomorrow might be more difficult. She washed quickly, yet thoroughly, a by product of her upbringing. When one had to share a single bathroom with two parents and four older brothers, you had to learn how to get out of the bath quickly, lest someone commence pounding on the door and wailing you were using up all the hot water. Despite the fact the water was instantaneously heated with magic.

She ducked her head under the spray, rinsing the conditioner from her hair and soap from her skin until the water ran clear. Ginny indulged in a few more moments of blissful solitude, then shut off the water. She picked up one of the towels and briskly rubbed it over her hair, then wrapped it around her head. Ginny used another towel to carefully dry the droplets of water beaded on her body. She hated dressing while her skin was damp as it made her clothes stick uncomfortably to her skin. Once she was dressed, Ginny dug through her bag, and unearthed her hairbrush. She sank down to a convenient bench carved into the marble wall and gently teased the tangles from her hair, then wound it into a loose knot, using her wand to deftly pin it into place on the back of her head. She stuffed her soiled clothing into her bag and started to open the door.

'Oh, come off it,' said one voice. 'She's only staying the extra day because other teams can use her as leverage to try and talk Harry Potter into signing with them.' Ginny stilled, hand frozen on the handle of the door.

'You mean offering her a position if he signs with them?'

'Of course,' one of the witches sniffed disdainfully. 'She's not that good.'

'I don't know about that,' another witch protested. Ginny thought it might have been Julia. 'She did catch the Snitch in a reasonable amount of time,' the witch added. 'Nearly as quickly as the practice squad witch.'

'It was a slow Snitch, and you know it!'

'Sondra, what if she hears you,' cautioned a witch, attempting to shush her.

Ginny opened the door fully, stepping into the changing room, letting her gaze sweep coolly over the witches clustered on the benches. She flung her bag over her shoulder. 'I'll see you tomorrow,' she said evenly, nodding to the others who made the cut, managing to throttle her voice down to something civil.

She turned on her heel and walked at an unhurried pace from the changing room, Disapparating as the door closed behind her.

xxxxxx

Bronwyn balanced on the porch railing of Charlie's cabin, trying not to bounce anxiously. 'How do you think she did?'

Charlie muffled a yawn. 'I haven't the foggiest idea,' he muttered, giving his watch a baleful glare. She had rousted him from a sound sleep half an hour ago, much to his dismay. 'When she gets here and gives us the short version, can I go back to sleep?'

'Oh, pooh,' Bronwyn huffed. 'It's exciting!'

Charlie covered his mouth with his hand as he yawned widely. 'She's guaranteed a spot,' he muttered.

'Fine. Go back to bed,' she told him, rolling her eyes.

Charlie hauled himself from the chair, using the porch rail to leverage himself into a standing position. He leaned forward, brushing a light kiss over Bronwyn's cheek. 'You'll tell me all about it at dinner?'

'Is that an invitation?'

'Yes.' Charlie traced the arch of Bronwyn's cheekbone before dropping one more kiss at the corner of her mouth. 'See you at six?'

'All right.' Bronwyn swatted Charlie's rear as he trudged back into the cabin. She resumed her vigil waiting for Ginny to appear at the crest of the hill. A small figure emerged on the hill and strode toward Charlie's cabin. 'Ginny!' Bronwyn called, waving energetically. She met Ginny in the valley. 'How was it?' Ginny's blinding smile looked just a wee bit forced, if you were to ask Bronwyn's opinion.

'Brilliant,' Ginny enthused. She began to describe what the day had been like, telling Bronwyn how each scrimmage had unfolded. But she fervently wished for a quill and parchment so she could write it all down and owl the lot to Harry like she had at school last year. Because with Harry she could talk about how badly the talk in the changing room had shaken her. But it had been nearly a week, and as much as she wanted to talk to Harry, she didn't think he particularly wanted to talk to her. 'I'm glad I'm not in Gwenog's shoes,' she concluded. 'The other two Chasers she kept for tomorrow are really good. And they play another position competently, which is really what Gwenog wants.'

'Sounds like you had a good day, then,' Bronwyn observed. 'So did you manage to find a flat yesterday? You didn't say at dinner.'

'Yes, I did.' Ginny twisted the strap of her bag. 'Would you like to see it?'

Bronwyn smiled. 'I would.' She gestured toward Ginny's things. 'Let's put your bag and broom inside first. Are you hungry? Dinner's not going to be for a couple more hours at least.'

Ginny's stomach rumbled loudly, reminding her of Ron's. She flushed in chagrin. 'I could eat.'

'We'll stop at my place on the way out,' Bronwyn promised. She glanced at her watch. 'Da likes a low tea when he's working the early shift. So do I, actually,' she said conspiratorially. 'It's usually a few scones or biscuits and tea.'

'That sounds really good,' Ginny sighed. She carefully hung her broom on the hooks inside the door and tossed her bag into the corner. 'Let's go.'

xxxxxx

'What do you think?' Ginny asked, only a little nervously.

Bronwyn spun in a slow circle. 'It's small,' she said dubiously.

Ginny shrugged. 'I only need a place to eat and sleep,' she argued. 'It's not as if I'll have the time to do much entertaining.'

Bronwyn laughed lightly. 'Don't get defensive, Ginny. If it's only you, then it ought to suit very well.' Ginny looked away quickly, going toward one of the windows. 'It is going to be just you, isn't it?'

'Most of the time,' Ginny mumbled. She remembered how carefully Harry had chosen the furniture for his flat and the pride that fairly beamed from him as he showed it to her. He hadn't merely wanted a place to keep his clothes and sleep. He wanted a home. Ginny was more than aware she wasn't quite there yet. As far as she was concerned, she had a home at the Burrow, and always would.

'Is there something you want to talk about?' Bronwyn asked gently.

Ginny shook her head. 'Not a thing.'

xxxxxx

Ron stood outside the visitor's entrance to the Ministry, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. He hadn't been back inside the Ministry since that fateful day nearly two years ago, and the memories of what it had been like were still clearly etched in his brain. He slowly took in a deep breath and determinedly stepped into the telephone box, then punched the numbers six, two, four, four, two. 'Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state the purpose of your visit.'

'Ron Weasley. I'm here to visit Harry Potter.' A small silver badge tinkled as it landed in the coin slot. Ron pinned it to the front of his shirt and closed his eyes as the telephone box began to descend underground.

'The Atrium. Please have your wand inspected as you exit the lift.' The soothing disembodied voice shook Ron from his reverie and he exited the lift with more than a little apprehension. The Atrium was nothing like he remembered. Water burbled from the wall and flowed in a curving stream that meandered around the floor. Names were carved into the glossy black marble, a silent testament to the lives lost in the fight against Dark magic. He approached the wizard sitting behind a brass scale and handed him his wand.

'Chestnut and dragon heartstring. Nine and a quarter inches,' the wizard intoned, tearing a small strip of parchment from the base of the scale and impaling it on a spike. 'Go on through.'

Ron went to the lift and gingerly closed the gate and hit the button for Level Two. In a few moments he left the lift and stood uncertainly on the threshold, wondering which direction to turn. 'Can I help you?' a witch asked impatiently.

'I'm looking for Harry Potter,' Ron told her, eyeing the witch with a repressed shudder. He could see her badge, pinned to the front of her robes. C. Gibson. Harry's much detested Head.

'That way,' Gibson sighed. 'Go into that maze and take the second left. His cubicle is the third one on the left.'

'Erm. Thanks.' Ron quickly walked away from the woman. He reminded her too much of Umbridge. He wandered for several minutes, peering into cubicles, ducking out, flustered, when none of them proved to be Harry's. At last, he found the right one. 'Fancy a bite?'

Harry looked up at Ron, glancing over the rims of his glasses. 'What time is it?'

'Nearly six.'

'I guess.' Harry closed the file on his desk and shoved it into a drawer. He charmed the drawer and stood, stretching the kinks from his back. 'That bloody chair is going to be the death of me,' he grumbled.

'Heard from Gin?' Ron asked quietly.

'No,' Harry replied shortly. He shouldered his bag and led Ron from the tangle of cubicles with far more ease than Ron had in navigating it.

'Do you want to hear from her?' Ron ventured. He thought Harry's shoulders stiffened.

'Only if she apologizes before she says anything else,' Harry told Ron.

'Are you sure you want to be with her?' Ron blurted. Harry's head whipped around so quickly, his glasses slipped down his nose.

'What sort of question is that?' he demanded.

'It's a fair one,' Ron retorted. 'Why are with her?'

'B-b-b-because!' Harry spluttered.

Ron didn't reply, but waited until they were walking toward the Underground station that would take them to Harry's flat. Once seated on the train, Ron picked up the thread of conversation. 'You know, I wasn't that put out when you started dating Ginny,' he mused. 'Didn't really see it coming. She'd all but given up on you, and you never really showed any interest in that direction.'

'None that you know,' Harry huffed.

Ron shrugged. 'I thought you and Luna...' He scooted down the seat a bit. 'I mean, it's just the two of you got on so well.'

'What are you doing?' Harry asked incredulously. 'Trying to make me end it with Ginny once and for all?'

Ron rubbed his hand over his face. Hermione would handle this so much better. 'No,' he admitted. 'But why did you go for Gin?' he repeated. More than once he'd wondered if it was because Ginny was his sister, and Harry was subconsciously trying to become an official part of the family.

'I don't have to justify my relationship with Ginny to you,' Harry declared.

'Yes, you do,' Ron stated emphatically. 'She's my sister. And I'll be damned if she goes through all that again.'

Harry stood up. 'Stop's coming up,' he muttered. Ron joined him at the short queue to exit the train and jostled his way up the stairs to the street. Harry's thoughts swirled chaotically. Was it merely because Ginny represented a way to be part of the Weasleys forever if he married her? Or did he love Ginny for herself? 'Oh,' he breathed. 'That's what she meant...'

'What?'

'Nothing.' Harry said. He glanced at Ron, then kept his gaze on the pavement. Ginny was the first person he wanted to talk to at the end of the day. He could count on her to hear him out - most of the time - and unlike Hermione and Ron, didn't feel the need to dance around the issue or talk it to death. And she understood. She understood instinctively how he valued his privacy, and much he yearned to be accepted for his own merits, and not because of what he had done in the past. She could be maddeningly stubborn, of course, and had a blazing temper, but Harry readily admitted his own faults, and Ginny's were no worse than his. But above all, Ginny made him feel grounded like nobody else. And the vision of her walking down the aisle on Arthur's arm, wearing a blindingly white dress that had haunted him since Bill's wedding had shifted into something far more palatable to him. No longer did Ginny dance toward a faceless man. She was joining Harry under a marquee. And none of those feelings were in any way connected to Ginny's status as Ron's little sister. 'She makes my life make sense,' he admitted. 'And not because she's your sister.' He opened the door of his building. 'But she still needs to apologize,' he said firmly.