The First Day

little_bird

Story Summary:
The first year after the battle at Hogwarts.

Chapter 27 - November Frost

Posted:
03/10/2009
Hits:
1,896


Ron reached for a couple of bags of crisps, plucking them from the rack with his fingertips. 'Add these to the tab, eh?' The barman grunted, as he pulled their first pints. Ron took it to mean assent.

As the barman slid the full glasses across the scarred and polished counter, he glanced at Harry with a raised eyebrow. 'Yer mate all righ', then? All righ' in th' head, an' all?'

Ron followed the barman's gaze. Harry was slumped into the tiny booth in the corner, looking exhausted. 'He's fine.' Ron said shortly. 'Tough day at work.'

The barman transferred his gaze to Ron. 'Neither o' yeh look old enough to be outta school.'

Ron felt his hackles rise slightly. 'We're old enough,' he muttered, tucking the crisps in the crook of his arm, and wrapping his hands around the glasses, then carried them to the booth. 'Here.' Harry opened his eyes, and picked up the pint of bitter Ron set in front of him, gulping it gratefully. 'Want to ease up a bit? Remember last time...?'

Harry set the glass down, now an inch or so lower, and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth. 'Clearly.' He paused and reached for one of the bags of crisps, ripping it open. 'Well, the next day, more than that night.'

'How was it?'

Harry heaved a sigh. 'The usual Ministry claptrap. Talking out both ends of their mouths. It's perfectly acceptable for the Wizengamot to try a dead man, but not take the testimony of one.'

'Will you have to...?' Ron motioned toward his head.

Harry shook his head. 'I don't think so. They wouldn't take Dumbledore's testimony in the hearing, so they're going to travel up to the school and talk to his portrait. Because, you know, that's so much more effective.'

Ron took a long sip of his drink. 'Does he have a portrait?'

Harry's startled green eyes widened. 'Who? Snape?'

'Yeah...'

Harry's face grew speculative. 'I'm not sure. I haven't been in the Headmistress' office since a few days after... If there was one there, I didn't notice. And he didn't speak up.'

'If there's a portrait...' Ron began.

'They can talk to Snape,' Harry finished. His eyes narrowed and he glared a Ron. 'See? I need you around to help me figure things like this out!'

Ron chuckled and his fingers snaked into the open bag of crisps. 'Nope. Had enough of it in school. Look at you. You're so stressed out about it, I'm sure you're dreaming about it.'

Harry's mouth worked soundlessly, and he sort of shrugged, half-embarrassed. His dreams weren't as full of his working life, as they had been before, but he still dreamed about it. He didn't think about it too much. He just figured it was how his brain worked through things. 'Just a bit,' he said lamely, cramming a few crisps into his mouth.

Lately, his working dreams had been punctuated with dreams about Ginny. Unlike the dreams he'd had before, these were almost scandalous; sensuously graphic in a way the others hadn't been. While he wouldn't have traded the days spent with Ginny during the summer, they were making things rather uncomfortable for Harry now. He pushed those thoughts aside, and picked up the thread of conversation. 'I've not thought to ask McGonagall if there is a portrait of Snape. Would they let him have one, do you think?'

'Who?'

'The other Headmasters and Headmistresses. The portraits just don't pop out of thin air, yeah?'

Ron snorted. 'Really? If that lot had any say, do you think they'd have let Phineas Nigellus Black have one?'

Harry's lips twitched. 'Yeah. He is quite a git, isn't he?' He and Ron gazed at each other before they burst into laughter. 'The only problem with that is he ran off. I mean, I know why, but I'm not sure that will be enough to put one in.'

Ron took a swallow of his drink. 'Maybe a postage-stamp sized one.' At Harry's raised eyebrow he rolled his eyes. 'What? Live with Dad for eighteen years and eventually some of that rubbish sticks. You'd think I never paid attention to anything anyone ever said,' he grumbled, feeling slightly annoyed.

'Maybe they can hang it next to Phineas Nigellus' portrait. Two of the least popular Headmasters in Hogwarts history,' Harry mused. He caught Ron's furrowed brow. 'Just because he made it possible for us to succeed, it doesn't mean I have to like him,' he stated.

'True.'

'I want it to be over,' Harry admitted. 'I don't want to muck about in someone else's head. I don't want to deal with Malfoy.' Harry paused. 'Any Malfoy...' He took a long swallow from his glass of bitter. 'I don't want to remember watching Snape die. Or seeing all those people...' He tilted the glass back, and gulped the rest of the pint. 'But every time I have to do something like this, they're all there, just lined up in my dreams staring at me... Waiting...' he said moodily.

'You knew that would be a risk,' Ron pointed out logically.

'I didn't think I'd end up working on the trials so closely,' Harry confessed. 'I thought I'd fetch coffee and run paperwork around. Take a few classes with the other trainees...'

'You still don't get it, do you?' Ron said mildly. 'You're Harry-Bloody-Potter. You can do anything.'

'Ron...'

'Yeah?'

'Get stuffed.'

Ron guffawed bawdily. 'When Hermione comes home for the Christmas hols...' he promised.

'Ewww.' Harry slid from his seat and ambled to the bar to get another pint. When he returned he glared at Ron. 'How would you feel if I reminded you that I've shagged your sister?' he demanded.

Ron's eyes narrowed. 'Have you?' he growled threateningly.

'No, but you do see my point? If you don't like me talking about your sister in that way, how do you think I feel about you talking about my sister like that?'

'But...' Ron fiddled with the open crisp bag. 'It's not like you don't know...'

'Doesn't mean I want to hear it,' Harry retorted.

'Fine...' Ron muttered. 'Is Percy really in a pile of trouble, do you think?' he asked worriedly.

Harry sighed and reached for another crisp. 'I don't know.' He munched thoughtfully for a moment. 'There are people whose instincts lean toward cleaning house completely. They don't want anyone associated with the previous regime, so to speak, in the Ministry.'

'But that's...'

'Yeah. About half the Ministry, right?' Harry sipped his drink. 'It reminds me too much of before. When Barty Crouch, Sr. tried damn near anyone he could get his hands on without so much as a by-your-leave. Threw Sirius in Azkaban without a trial. Or when Fudge and Scrimgeour threw everyone into prison. Tried to expel me from school. Let Umbridge come so damn close to ruining our educations, we wouldn't have passed our O.W.L. in Defense if we'd tried. How many people went along with things - like Percy last year - because they were afraid for their lives?'

'Aside from a few nutters like Umbridge, who seemed to believe in it, I'd say most of those people last year. Do your job or die, yeah?' Ron shivered, remembering their visit to the Ministry last year. 'I'd say very few and most of those were arrested after the battle... At least that's what Dad says...'

'He's right.' Harry reached for the second bag of crisps. 'With Percy, it's high-profile. He was the Minister's assistant.' Harry fiddled with a crisp. 'They want to make an example of him.'

'I thought you weren't involved...?' Ron swallowed the last of his bitter, and set the glass down on the table with a soft thump.

'I'm not,' Harry admitted. 'But it's what they're doing with Snape,' he added. 'It only makes sense to think they'd do it with Percy.' He nudged Ron's empty glass. 'Want another one, mate?'

Ron gazed at the glass and nodded. 'Yeah. Yeah, I think I do.'

Harry slid out of the booth and strode to the bar. When he returned, he glanced at Ron. 'You should have seen McGonagall today,' he said lightly. 'You know how she can walk into a room, with this attitude of, "Don't waste my time, I've got somewhere else much more important to be."?' Ron nodded. 'So she walks into the conference room like that, and without bothering to lower her voice, imperiously asks Kingsley why we're there to flog a dead man.'

'She's great for making people feel like idiots,' Ron commented. 'So what happened?'

'They questioned me. They questioned McGonagall. Kingsley gave them the testimony from Seamus and Neville, then gave them the written testimony from Dumbledore's portrait, and it still wasn't good enough,' Harry grumbled. 'So at some point in the next two weeks, they're going up to the school to question the portrait in person.'

'Blimey. A bit over the top, isn't it?'

Harry snorted. 'Just a bit.'

*****

'All right... We've covered the theory behind Patronus charms, and now it's time to put that into some practice. Can anyone tell me the incantation?'

Luna raised her hand. 'It's Expecto Patronum.'

'Very good, Miss Lovegood. Five points to Ravenclaw. What does the Patronus charm look like?'

Hermione's hand shot up. 'Please, sir. It depends.'

'Depends on what, Miss Granger?'

'The person casting it,' she replied promptly. 'Each Patronus takes on something unique to each person.'

'Define unique,' Carter shot back.

Ginny's hand rose into the air. 'Some people say it's the person's personality. Others say it's a reflection of someone close to the spell caster. Especially if there's a strong emotional connection involved.'

'That is correct, Miss Weasley.' Carter's eyes swept the room. 'All right... What do you need to have in mind before you say the incantation?'

Dean's hand slowly rose into the air. He rarely volunteered information in class. 'Something happy...' he murmured.

Hermione's hand waved in the air. 'Erm, sir?'

'Yes, Miss Granger?'

'We know this already,' she said quietly. 'We did it three years ago...'

Carter closed his book with a resigned sigh. 'The DA?' he asked.

'Yes, sir.'

'Oh, great day in the mornin'...' Carter grumbled. 'How many of you can produce anything when you try to perform the charm?' he asked. Nearly all the hands in the room rose into the air. 'How many of you are capable of producing a corporeal Patronus?' A few hands dropped, but several of them stayed aloft. 'Of course you can,' Carter muttered. 'All right... Lemme see 'em.'

*****

Saturday was cold and dry. Harry could feel the air burn his lungs, as he and Ron trudged up the stairs to the stands, usually occupied by the school faculty and guests. It felt odd to not clamber up the creaky stairs to the Gryffindor stands. 'Did George say why he changed his mind?' he asked Ron quietly.

'No. He just told me something came up at the shop when you and I were getting ready to leave.' Ron tightened his scarf as the wind whistled through a crack in the stairwell. 'I think he's lying,' he added bluntly. 'I don't think he's ready to come back here.'

'I can't blame him for that,' Harry muttered. 'It still makes me feel all funny to come up here.'

'Yeah...' Ron let the moment pass. 'So what do you think of Ginny's chances today?'

They appeared at the entrance of the box. Harry blinked in the wan sunshine. 'Ground's hard, so they'll get a good kick-off,' he mused. 'Some sun, but not too much so that it'll blind them.' He squinted at the sky for a moment. 'A bit cloudy, but it doesn't smell like rain or snow.' The descended the stairs toward a couple of empty seats. 'Depends on how well Ginny's prepared her team, and how good the Slytherin team is.'

'Nev brought in some plants for us the other day. He said Hannah said they were having a hard time putting a team together. She said a lot of the ones in fifth year and up didn't come back. Even a lot of the younger ones didn't come back.'

'Potter! Weasley!' barked McGonagall. When they turned to look at her, she beckoned to them. The tall wizard they'd seen in the Three Broomsticks during the Hogsmeade weekend stood next to her.

'Isn't that the DADA professor?' Ron hissed in Harry's ear.

'Yeah,' Harry muttered from the corner of his mouth. 'What's his name again? Carter?'

'Yeah...'

'Ah. Professor Carter, I'd like to introduce you to Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter. It was the two of them, along with Miss Granger that made it possible to end the war. Potter, Weasley, this is Professor Michael Carter, late of the Salem Institute in St. Louis.'

Harry glanced up at Carter. He had intense blue eyes, thinning curly dark hair, and he was tall. Taller than even Ron. He had the rugged look of someone who spent a great deal of time outdoors, and a powerful build that made Harry exchange a look with Ron. To Ron's great surprise, Carter extended a hand toward Ron. 'How are ya doin'?' he asked, in a deep rumble.

Ron took the large hand and shook it. 'Fine, thanks... I've heard a bit about you from my sister...'

'Ginny, right?'

'Yeah.'

'She's quite good.'

'Erm... Thanks...' Ron tugged at his scarf, loosening it a little, clearly uncomfortable.

Carter turned to Harry. 'So... You're Harry Potter...' He gazed at Harry appraisingly. 'You're the one I have to blame for my sixth and seventh years. Somehow I thought you'd be taller...'

Harry's eyebrow rose. 'I'm sorry?'

'Well, I figured someone who managed to teach a bunch of kids how to do Patronus charms must be taller. Just about every seventh year in my class that was in your group can do a Patronus charm. Corporeal ones, too. As can a good number of the sixth years. I spend more time reviewin' what's going to be on the N.E.W.T.s than actually teaching them. Fine-tunin' and fillin' in holes from the past couple of years.'

'And that's a bad thing?' Ron blurted.

'Well, no,' admitted Carter. 'But it does mean I can get into the theory behind some of this stuff, since they already know how to do it.'

'Ah, that explains the homework,' Harry said. He chewed the inside of his cheek for a bit. 'Could I come up and do a few classes...? Fill in some of my holes...?'

'Aren't you a full Auror?' Carter asked in confusion.

Harry refrained from rolling his eyes. 'Yeah, but I had the same questionable teachers they did.'

Carter's eyes narrowed. 'After the holidays. Why don't you come up, and we'll go over a few things?'

'Thanks.' The roar of the crowd cut off anything he might have added. Seven crimson blurs shot by the stands. 'Excuse us...' Harry prodded Ron and the two of them made their way to their seats.

Ron started to sit down, but a movement caught his eye. Hermione waved at him with a self-conscious grin. He flicked his eyes toward the pitch and gave her a questioning look. Hermione shrugged, and tilted her head toward the empty space on the bench next to her in clear invitation. 'Harry...' Ron said.

'Hmmm?' Harry was focused on the team taking a few warm-up laps around the pitch.

'I'm going to go sit with Hermione...'

'Yeah, all right...' Harry replied absently, not really paying attention to what Ron said. He was too busy critically evaluating the team Ginny had put together.

'Ah! Harry Potter!' A man Harry had never met took Ron's vacant seat.

Harry glanced out the corner of his eye. 'Who're you?' he asked almost rudely.

'Bernard Calhoun. Owner of the Falmouth Falcons.' The red-cheeked man held out a hand, that Harry coolly ignored. 'I hear you're quite the Seeker.'

Harry shrugged noncommittally.

'I'm willing to at least triple what the Ministry's paying you to fetch coffee for other Aurors,' Calhoun said bluntly.

'Hm.' Harry kept his gaze resolutely on the field. Madam Hooch bent to open the chest releasing the Snitch. She tossed the Quaffle into the air, then unlatched the chains that held the Bludgers into place.

'You can start immediately,' Calhoun wheedled.

'I'm not interested,' Harry growled. 'Now, if you'll excuse me, I'd like to watch the match...' He decidedly turned his back to Calhoun and winced as a Bludger slammed into Ginny's shin. She pulled one hand off her broom handle, and briefly rubbed her shin before swooping down to meet Demelza, who handed her the Quaffle in a move that was almost balletic in a swirl of robes and brooms. Ginny streaked toward the goalposts, and drew her arm back, sending the Quaffle hurtling toward the right goalpost in a wide curve. It soared neatly through the center of the hoop. Harry whooped, cheering wildly, as Gryffindor scored the first goal of the game.

He became aware of hushed mutters behind him, and saw a gaggle of people gesturing toward Ginny. Most of them had the weather-beaten faces of people who spent a great deal of time outdoors on broomsticks. Each of them wore a badge with a different Quidditch team's logo clipped to the outside of the cloaks or coats. 'You can have my Reserve Seeker, if you let me have her in the first go of the draft,' a somewhat horsy woman was telling a rather scrawny man with a badge identifying him as a scout for the Cannons.

'Your Reserve Seeker is worse than our normal one,' he scoffed.

'You can have my second and third picks,' a woman Harry recognized as Gwenog Jones stated. 'If you let me take her on.'

The Pride of Portree scout leaned forward. 'Aren't we putting the cart before the horse a bit? She hasn't even signed a letter of intent to play...'

Gwenog watched Dean block a goal and toss the ball to Ginny. 'She will...'

*****

Ron scrambled into the stands next to Hermione. Her hair was pulled back into a plait, but tendrils of curls had come loose around her face. She was wearing earrings. Small sapphire studs that her parents had given her for her last birthday. She wore a red woolen cap over her head against the chill, with nubby mittens over her hands. The long scarlet-and-gold scarf was wrapped loosely around her throat, the ends tucked into the front of her coat. He set one of his hands on the bench next to hers, the outsides of their mittens barely touching, but Ron could feel himself growing warm, as if they were shut away in his bedroom.

He saw her glance at him out of the corner of her eye, then look away quickly when she noticed him watching her. Ron stripped off his mitten, and picked up Hermione's hand, doing the same. He tucked their bare hands into his coat pocket, his large hand wrapped around hers, thumb gently caressing her palm.

*****

Ginny stood in a huddle with the team. They were currently up one hundred ten to ninety, and the Snitch was nowhere in sight. 'Dennis, have you seen it at all...?' she asked hoarsely, gulping from a jug of water she passed to Demelza.

He nodded wearily. 'Twice in the last half hour,' he sighed. 'But by the time I get there, it's gone...'

Ginny quashed the uncharitable thought that Harry would have caught the bloody thing an hour ago. 'How's their Seeker doing?' she asked quietly.

Dennis took the jug from Demelza gratefully and took several long swallow of water, before handing it to Ritchie. 'Slower broom,' he said slowly. 'Seems to be flying about aimlessly a bit.' He paused at glanced up at the darkening sky. 'It's an awfully fast Snitch, Ginny...' he said apologetically.

'Right...' Ginny sighed as Madam Hooch blew the whistle, signaling the end of the time-out. 'Try going a bit higher, Dennis, all right? Maybe you can dive into a catch. It's what worked for -' She bit off the end of the sentence. She had been about to say "Harry", but quickly recovered. 'For me.' She held her hand out in the middle of the circle. 'All right, on three... One... Two... Three...'

'Gryffindor!' they shouted, before mounting their brooms and shooting back into the sky.

*****

Ginny hurtled into Harry's arms, jumping into them, her legs twining around his waist. 'We did it!' she enthused. 'It only took four hours and twenty-eight minutes...'

'It was brilliant,' Harry murmured, wrapping his arms around her waist. She smelled of broom handle polish, sweat, her flowery shampoo, and the underlying scent of her. It was a combination that made him dizzy. He ran his fingers along her hairline, wiping away the beads of sweat that had collected there.

'Hardly,' Ginny retorted.

'Ginny... You creamed the other team. By a margin of nearly three hundred points...'

'I know... Not nearly as satisfying as barely eking out a win, though.'

'Anyone ever tell you you're competitive?' Harry snorted.

'Just a few times.'

Harry set Ginny on her feet and with a quick glance around them, cupped her face in his hands and kissed her. He'd meant for it to be lingering and soft, but before he could stop himself, one arm slid down to Ginny's waist and pulled her tightly against him, the kiss turning into an urgent demand. Ginny's toes curled inside the heavy boots she wore, making her gasp. Harry quickly stepped away. 'Oh, God, what's wrong?'

'It's where that Bludger hit me... Wasn't feeling it before...' Ginny leaned down and rubbed a hand over her shin.

Harry jabbed his wand over Ginny's shoulder and a hard-backed chair appeared. 'Sit yourself down, then,' he told her. 'Sorry about the chair. I've just got the knack of conjuring them. Making them comfortable is going to take a while...'

'It's all right.' Ginny eased down into the chair, while Harry knelt on the cold ground in front of her. He quickly unlaced the boot and carefully undid the straps of the guards over her shin, then rolled up the close-fitting trouser leg as much as he could. He carefully peeled the sock away from her foot and winced in sympathy. A large, dark purple bruise spread over the front of her leg, nearly black in the middle. 'That looks awful,' Ginny commented lightly. She hissed when Harry ran tentative fingertips over it. 'Don't you know Episkey or something?'

Harry nodded. 'Yeah, but I think this might be more than that can handle... Ought to get you up to Madam Pomfrey.'

Ginny's nose wrinkled. 'But I'll have to stay the night...'

'Maybe you won't, but I'd feel better if she had a look at it...'

Ginny sighed. 'Fine...' She started to stand up, but the leg buckled underneath her. 'I thought this was why we wore protective gear...' she grumbled.

'That Bludger hit you pretty hard,' Harry murmured, turning his back to Ginny. 'Here. I'll carry you...'

Ginny leaned forward and wrapped her arms around Harry's shoulders. 'This is so not how I pictured this.'

Harry turned his head and kissed the back of her hand. 'I know...' He slid his hands under Ginny's knees, gingerly sliding her off the seat of the chair and onto his back, mindful of the injury. 'Knowing Madam Pomfrey, she'll have you fixed up and out of her hair in no time.'

'You don't have to take me up there,' Ginny said softly, resting her chin on Harry's thin shoulder.

'It's all right,' he said. 'You're more important than my issues...'

*****

'So, how's it been, really?' Ron asked, pulling Hermione down to his lap. They were sitting on a bench, in an alcove, protected from the worst of the wind. Hermione's bluebell flames danced in a jar in front of them. 'You haven't written much...' In fact, beyond a few lines she had added to the bottom of Ginny's letters to Harry, she hadn't written at all.

'It's awful,' Hermione confessed. 'It's so odd to not see Dumbledore and surprisingly, Potions doesn't quite feel right without Snape billowing around the room like an overgrown bat,' she chuckled shakily. 'It smells the same, unless you're walking by an area they've just repaired. And then you can smell it... just under the usual Hogwarts smell. Fresh paint and plaster. And there are parts of the outside of the castle that are new. Brand-new. I mean, Hogwarts is grimy, right? On the outside, at least. And there are stones and mortar that haven't been weathered yet. It's so obvious...' She paused to swipe her sleeve under her nose. 'The wall... Where Fred...' she began haltingly, before a tear slid down one cheek. 'They just finished it. It's like it was never gone, except of course, it looks new... And until Thursday, it was still a gaping hole. And you and Harry aren't here...'

'You knew we wouldn't be, hen,' Ron said, only slightly reprovingly.

'I know, but... It's just not the same without the two of you. I don't get into any trouble. Nobody tries to convince me to skive off and wander about the castle, trying to find Snape doing something dastardly. I mean, Ginny tries to remind me it's about more than books, but she's actually, you know... Well-behaved!' Hermione said this with a slight shudder. 'She doesn't get into any trouble without you lot.' She leaned her head against Ron's shoulder. 'You and Harry really are my best friends,' she sighed.

'Is it as bad as all that?'

Hermione nodded. 'I go to classes and meals. And if I'm not in the library, I'm in my dormitory.' She snorted suddenly. 'It's just like it was before the three of us become friends... And I hated that then.'

'Can you hang on until June?' Ron laced his fingers through hers.

'I guess I'll have to.' She shook herself a little. 'I've got something to show you.'

'Have you? Is it some dry tome of magical history that will dehydrate me the second you open it...?'

'No...' She tugged the scarf off and pulled her coat and jumper away from her shoulder. A line of orange showed above the collar of the dark grey jumper. 'Thank you... For sending it...'

'You've been wearing that all day...?' Ron gulped. Lingerie aside, he preferred her wearing his Cannons t-shirt and nothing else. 'Blimey...'

'I'm sorry about... what happened before I left.'

Ron shrugged. 'Don't worry about it.'

'It's just you... Changed... Rather suddenly. I mean you came back and in place of the Ron I'd known for nearly half my life, there was someone else. And you keep saying all the right things at the right time, and I'm so used to you saying something contrary to me because that's what you've always done.' She turned around. 'Hearing you say something sensible is like listening to you speak perfect French all of sudden.'

'I'm still Ron,' he said. 'I still hate studying; I still think Snape was a slimy git, no matter what Harry says. I still support the Cannons, even though realistically, their season's a wash the day it starts. I can still put away my weight in food at meals. And I still don't have the best table manners. I still don't like being in a position of authority, and thought Dumbledore was out of his tree when he made me a prefect. Worst decision ever. Most Muggle things still totally mystify me. Fe - Telephones - for instance. I mean, how does that work? Aeroplanes... And I still don't quite understand how a little piece of sticky paper on an envelope gets your post from London to Ottery-St.-Catchpole. I still think you can be an insufferable know-it-all, especially when you've got your teeth in something. And sometimes it irritates me, and others... not so much. And I still say whatever's in my head sometimes, without thinking.

'I just had a lot of time at Bill's to think. And I slowly realized me being an idiot was hurting both you and Harry. It just finally clicked... I didn't want to be that way anymore...'

Hermione was silent for so long, Ron thought she might have fallen asleep. Finally, she said, 'Want to try and convince me to stay out of bounds tonight? For old times' sake?'

Ron burst out laughing. 'I think I can do that...'

*****

Madam Pomfrey tutted over Ginny. 'It's a miracle you could finish the game, young lady,' she sniffed. It was broken it two places.'

'Do I have to stay here for the night?' Ginny asked in distaste.

Madam Pomfrey scowled. 'Yes.'

'Bugger,' Ginny muttered.

'At least you don't have to regrow all the bones in your arm,' Madam Pomfrey reminded her tartly. 'Unlike some people I could name. One night in the hospital wing won't kill you. You'll have other team celebrations.' She handed Ginny a set of pajamas. 'I'll have some dinner brought to you.' She eyed Harry. 'Are you staying?'

Harry looked at Ginny, who sort of shrugged. 'I suppose...'

'Fine, I'll have dinner brought up for both of you.' Madam Pomfrey flicked her wand, and set up a screen around Ginny's bed so Ginny could change.

When she left, Harry leaned against the bed. He indicated the bandage wrapped around Ginny's leg. 'You know... When Muggle kids break something, they get a cast. It's like a thick, stiff bandage. And they have to keep it on for six weeks at least. You get your friends to sign it with a marker.'

'Sounds like a laugh,' Ginny muttered, shifting to try and find a more comfortable position.

'I wouldn't know. As much as I got roughed up, I never broke anything. Until I came here. And Dudley never moved his arse enough to break anything when we were younger. But I hear it's pretty bad during the summer. Hot and itchy. And you have to wrap a bin liner around the cast to keep it dry when you want to have a bath. Or cling film.'

Ginny shuddered. 'All right, all right... One night in the hospital wing isn't going to kill me...' She reached out and touched the back of Harry's hand. 'I'm glad you came for the game.'

'Wouldn't miss it...' He glanced up at the ceiling. 'I certainly don't miss this place, however.' He grinned at Ginny. 'You really were great. I'd have lost patience with Dennis three hours before the game ended.'

'I kept comparing him to you,' Ginny huffed. 'Not out loud, of course.' She slumped into the pillows a little, and her head fell back.

'Tired?'

'Yeah...'

Harry pulled the blanket over Ginny. 'It'll be a while before Madam Pomfrey gets back with dinner. Why don't you have a bit of a kip before? And if you sleep through it, I can get something from the kitchens. It's not like they can give me detentions anymore.' He leaned over and kissed her. 'Go on...'

Ginny settled into the pillows and let her eyes drift shut. She felt Harry's head lower to pillow next to hers. Neither of them noticed when Madam Pomfrey brought in their dinner trays.