Silent Witness

Ginny sat behind her desk, legs crossed, jiggling her foot nervously. What she was nervous about was a mystery to her. The fight with Harry at the memorial service had unhinged her. He had finally been saying all the things she'd ever dreamed and she threw it back in his face. The sad thing was that it had felt good.

Did that make her a horrible person?

She was fairly certain that it did, but that didn't make it feel any less satisfying. He was saying all the right things and she was saying all the wrong things, but it had felt good. It had felt good to finally make him hurt. Make him hurt in the way that he'd hurt her so many times. Ginny couldn't trust herself with Harry Potter.

If she did, she was likely to kiss him or kill him.

Both options sounded appealing.

Shaking her head, Ginny gnawed on the end of her Sugar Quill and flipped through the file in front of her. She was never able to make it to the end of a report lately without a Sugar Quill at her disposal. At the height of the war, most of the reports had been riveting and she supposed it was a little selfish to be missing them.

Now that it was over, however, reading about a misunderstood third year banishing his mother's knickers was much less alluring.

In truth, this job wasn't all that exciting. Ginny worked for the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad and while it might have sounded rather thrilling, it was anything but. She spent most of her time doing what she was doing now - reading through reports. Occasionally, during the war, they had been understaffed and had let her go out on assignment; but now that the crisis had abated her rather chauvinistic boss felt much more comfortable leaving the dainty young red-head at the desk.

Ginny had joined the department early in the war. She was just out of Hogwarts and her father was still slowly climbing his way to the top. He, at the time, had been answering to Oswald Spade and knew the department could use an extra hand.

At seventeen, Ginny had been ready to go out and experience life but her wallet demanded she stayed put. So, at her father's request, she'd joined the team. She hadn't meant to be here still, seven years later.

Those seven years had flown by. At least, that's how it seemed upon reflection. At the time, each day ached by slowly, as she held her breath in anticipation. Ginny had done as much as she could for the Order but Harry had finally come into his own and Ron, as usual, had followed.

She watched the two go out into battle, would not hear from them in months, and would [Author ID1: at Wed Jan 10 20:21:00 2007 ]wait with baited breath for news. Ginny supposed the only thing that had kept her in place was that, for once, Hermione had not followed in the boys' footsteps.

Ginny still couldn't answer what kept her out of battle. It was unlike her. It wasn't as if women weren't involved in the war: at least half of the Aurors were female. During her time at Hogwarts she'd always been ready to jump into things headfirst, but time after Hogwarts was nothing like it should have been.

It was difficult to admit but part of the reason could have been that had she joined the Auror Corps, she would have been working under Harry. It would have been an unbearable situation at the time.

Ginny shook her head. She didn't want to think about that. Not again. It was useless to dredge up the past. She'd learned her lesson in that department. Or, at least she'd thought she had. After the other night, with Harry, she wasn't so sure.

She needed to get out of this office - and fast. Ginny had been staring at this report since her arrival and it was now half past noon and she'd got nowhere.

"Ginny!"

She looked up to see Janine poking her head in the door. Perfect timing.

"Yeah?" Upon reflection Ginny realized she should have guessed Janine was the bearer of bad news. The look on her colleague's face was unmistakable. It was a look she'd seen so many times on so many faces.

"It's the Auror Headquarters - it's been destroyed."

Ginny was vaguely aware that between the time she'd gotten out of her seat and made it out the door Janine had said something about a massive explosion. This wasn't supposed to happen anymore. It was over. They could relax. That's what they'd been fighting for, wasn't it? Wasn't that what Ron and Harry had been fighting for?

Sweet Merlin. If after ten years of fighting they'd died in some sort of ridiculous explosion....

It seemed to take an age to arrive home but when she had it felt as if she'd never left her desk.

Ginny arrived in the kitchen of the Burrow to see her mother leaning over the sink. Her sleeves were rolled up and she was gazing out the window, her hands moving the scrub brush across the pan in practiced movements. It wasn't necessary, of course. Most normal people merely performed a cleaning charm and that was that. But her mother was far from normal. She'd once explained to Ginny that she loved the feeling of the hot water running over her hands and the soap between her fingers. Apparently, she and her father had been doing dishes together the night he proposed.

Dashing towards her, Ginny pulled at her mother's shoulder, whirling her around with an alarming ferocity.

"Ginny! I'm covered in soap!"

"Mum! Are they all right? Did you hear? Have you heard anything? What happened? Why are you just standing there?" She released her grip slightly. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

Furrowing her brow, Ginny watched as her mother held a towel to her lips, laughing softly. Her mother was staring somewhere just past her shoulder. Dropping her arms down to her side, Ginny turned around.

Harry Potter was standing in doorway leading to the garage, a smirk playing on his lips.

Feeling her entire body sag with relief, Ginny dashed across kitchen for the second time that afternoon. Grabbing him in an all-consuming embrace, Ginny wrapped her arms around his thin frame and held on for dear life. She could feel every muscle in his body, his should blades pressed against the palm of her hands - he'd never felt more solid.

Suddenly his shoulders were shaking and that usual welcome sound of his laugh was ringing in her ears.

Wrenching herself away from Harry, Ginny smacked his arm - hard.

Grimacing, he rubbed at the spot furiously. "Ow! What was that for?"

"Harry James Potter!" Ginny positioned her hands on her hips, in a way reminiscent of Molly Weasley. "What were you thinking? Scaring us like that?"

The wrath in her stare seemed to cow him. Harry was rubbing at the back of his neck, the way he usually did when he became uncomfortable, his eyes averted. It always surprised Ginny when she could make the man who defeated Voldemort quake under her stare.

He began shifting awkwardly which was a clear sign he was feeling guilty, and before she knew it she was holding onto him once more. Squeezing her eyes shut, Ginny let herself breathe again. She ran her hand across his back, reassuring herself. There had been so many close calls. Ginny had thought she was done living in fear. Perhaps that's what made this event all the more startling.

Ginny pulled away again, her hands clutching at his shoulders, she held him at an arms length. Harry and her brother would always come home from the Aurors' Healer but that never stopped her from assessing their condition herself.

When she was fairly certain he wasn't in any immediate danger she looked at his face once more but, instead, she found her eyes boring into those of Jimmy Fitzgerald. He did not look happy.

He was sitting at the table, head bowed and staring so intently at the surface one would of thought he was perusing an article of Wenchy Witches.

The relief that had consumed her just a moment ago had evaporated and been replaced with intense discomfort. She released Harry's shoulders abruptly and made her way over to him. Ginny felt stiff and uneasy as she wrapped her arms around his neck and placed a chaste kiss on his cheek.

It wasn't a good sign that he didn't move his mouth to greet hers.

It felt as though the oxygen had been sucked out of the room.

Her mother, still across the room drying her hands on the towel, beamed unnaturally at Harry. "Harry, dear! Help me set the table won't you?"

He jumped into action. "Sure thing, Mrs. Weasley."

The commotion as they pulled out the plates and cutlery was blatantly contrived. And of all things, wasn't Harry a spy? You'd think they could be a bit less obvious.

She suddenly felt her arms drop as Jimmy pulled away from her.

"Ginny, can I talk to you outside for a moment?" he inquired, his voice low.

She nodded and, crossing her arms tightly in front of her body, Ginny followed him out the door.

She wasn't sure if the biting chill was from the air from the look in Jimmy's eyes.

"Ginny, I'm leaving."

"What?" She feigned surprise. "Why?"

She'd never heard his voice so harsh, berating her.

"You don't love me."

She tried to protest, but he seemed to be unstoppable.

[Author ID1: at Wed Jan 10 20:30:00 2007 ]

"You don't look at me the same way you look at him. You don't watch me. You don't concern yourself with me. It's no use hiding it anymore. Something happened on New Year's, and I don't know what the hell it was and I'm not sure I want to.

"But whatever happened, it changed you. You don't seem to realize it, but that doesn't mean I don't. I can't torture myself anymore thinking I'll be good enough for you. He's the one you want.

"I love you Ginny, but I can't stand for second best and I can't wait around for the day you'll love me half as much as you love him."

And then he was gone.

Harry had tried to do the right thing. He really had. As he and Mrs. Weasley set the table, Harry had tried his hardest not to glance in their direction. Not to watch as Jimmy Fitzgerald spoke in what appeared to be increasing volume accompanied by wild gesticulations. He didn't appear to be happy, and sweet Merlin, that made Harry happy.

You're a terrible person, you know that, Potter?

But he could at least console himself by the fact that if he was terrible, Mrs. Weasley was worse. She didn't even try to feign a lack of interest, at least until Jimmy Disapparated. She jumped guiltily away from the window and moved back to the other side of the kitchen. Harry watched her, debating with himself, as she pulled a sack of potatoes from under the counter.

He had nearly decided to stay put when he found Mrs. Weasley giving him a pointed look before returning her gaze to the self chopping potatoes.

Nodding, Harry buried his hands deep in his pockets and walked out into the bitter cold. She was standing a little way away from the house, leaned up against the tree. Harry would have been content to watch her had she not noticed him first. She was staring at the ground as though her gaze could penetrate its depths and her cheeks were tinged pink from the cold. He'd become so lost in his observations; he jumped slightly when he found her looking at him back.

"Bit nippy out here, isn't it?" Harry tried to smile. "You want my coat?" It took him a moment to realize he wasn't wearing one. She just stared at him - her eyes unsmiling. It was an unusual expression on Ginny.

"So-" He was floundering, "Canons are doing well, huh? Beat Puddlemere in the quarter-final -"

"I s'pose I'll have to cancel those reservations." She was staring at the ground again. Harry would have given anything to have those brown eyes looking at him once more, no matter how sad they seemed.

"Huh?"

The eyes were back. "It is - was - our anniversary next week. We had reservations. At the Pumpkin Palace. I'll have to cancel them."

Harry was on the verge of doing victory dances.

"Why?"

She was staring at him as though he was the biggest fool to ever grace the Wizarding World. "What do you mean 'why'?"

"I'll take you."

"Wha-"

He nodded. "Yeah. Pick you up at seven?"

Placing his hand gently on her elbow, he leaned in, placed a soft kiss on her forehead and left.