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Through Our Eyes by Linaewen

Format: Short story
Chapters: 5
Word Count: 13,394

Rating: 15+
Warnings: Mild Violence, Scenes of a Mild Sexual Nature

Genres: Romance
Characters: Harry, Ron, Hermione, Molly, Cho, Ginny
Pairings: Harry/Ginny, Ron/Hermione

First Published: 11/11/2007
Last Chapter: 08/10/2010
Last Updated: 08/10/2010


COMPLETED!  A companion piece to my one-shot You Do Approve, Don’t You?  Here is the relationship of Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley as told through the eyes of five women. Banner by me. Story dedicated to my wonderful sister, who has been both support and inspiration through all my fanfiction stories.

Chapter 1: Romilda Vane
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Author’s Note: This story was written quite some time ago but remained unposted. Now I post it for you, dear readers, but most of all for my sister, who has helped me write many of my stories ever since I began posting fanfiction four years ago. Happy Birthday, sister, and I hope you enjoy.

For the rest of my readers, I hope you enjoy this new piece of work. Please leave a review!

Chapter 1: Romilda Vane

Romilda couldn’t wait to get back to Gryffindor Tower. Maybe she wasn’t as invested in Quidditch as many of her classmates seemed to be, but she knew that there would be a huge celebration because of today’s win. Older students surged ahead of her, bearing the Quidditch players on their shoulders, chanting “We won the Cup! We won the Cup!”

“Vicky! Come on!”

Romilda tugged her friend’s sleeve, urging her to move more quickly.

“What’s the hurry, Romilda?”

“Come on, you know my plan. There’s bound to be a celebration up there, and we have to get there before the crowd does or we’ll never make it to the dormitory….”

Vicky Cole tugged her sleeve out of Romilda’s grasp and tossed her blonde curls irritably. “Oh, do give it up, will you? You saw what happened the last time you tried.”

True, the last time Romilda had tried slipping Harry Potter a box of potion-laced chocolates, Ron Weasley had ended up in the hospital wing, poisoned. “It’s different, Vicky. This time I’ll give it directly to him.”

“You know perfectly well that they’re illegal.”

“Oh, you’re such a goody-goody. You sound just like that Hermione Granger.”

“Well,” Vicky said, rolling her eyes, “your dear Harry doesn’t seem to mind her now, does he? Have you thought about that?”

“Anything’s worth having him as a boyfriend,” Romilda replied, brushing an errant strand of dark hair out of her face. When Vicky rolled her eyes again, she continued, “No, really! Can’t you just imagine, with him being the Chosen One and all that, and he’s really nice…”

“He’s brushed you off already,” Vicky observed. “Remember? He only took those chocolates because they were in a box; he didn’t want the drink you were giving him. He actually seems quite rude.”

“Oh, come off it, he was hurrying to class, of course he didn’t have time to say anything more! At least he talked to me!” Romilda protested.

“You can’t be serious.”

“And not to mention that he’s also rather good-looking…”

Vicky snorted. “Romilda, you need to give it up. He’s not interested in you.”

“Oh, really? We’ll see about that. The potion’s just a fail-safe anyway. Let’s go!”

Ignoring Vicky’s mutterings, Romilda darted ahead through the crowd and dashed as quickly as she could up to Gryffindor Tower. She had discovered a shortcut a few months before, one that she knew was too narrow for the huge tide of Gryffindors to take all at once. She didn’t care whether Vicky was following or not.

Quid agis!” she gasped to the Fat Lady.

“Yes, dear,” the woman in the painting replied, swinging forward. Romilda practically leapt through the portrait hole, swinging it shut behind her, before she slowed down. Gryffindor tower was quiet now, with everyone still walking through the hallways from the Quidditch match. She stood there for a few minutes, catching her breath, before the telltale rumble of approaching feet told her that the rest of the House would be inside soon. Smiling to herself, she skipped up the steps to her dormitory, shutting the door just as an explosion of voices filled the common room below.

Romilda knelt in front of her trunk, which was at the foot of her bed. “Where is it?” she muttered to herself, digging through piles of old Teen Witch magazines and several discarded rolls of parchment. She had hidden the small bottle from Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes after she had put only a few drops in each chocolate. Strong stuff, it was. Apparently Ron Weasley had walked around dreamily looking for her after he accidentally ate one of the chocolates meant for Harry. Romilda giggled at the thought. Soon, Harry would be hers. And who could blame her? She had heard other girls conspiring to attract him, from First Years all the way to Seventh. To be Harry Potter’s girlfriend would mean being someone. Everyone heard about Harry and his two friends, Ron and Hermione. Everyone knew about the fantastic adventures they got caught up in every year. From the Triwizard Tournament to facing Death Eaters in the Ministry, they certainly always managed to get noticed.

No one really ever took notice of Romilda, unless it was to ask her about Charms and Transfiguration. She had lived a mostly quiet, uneventful life – as uneventful as life at Hogwarts could be, at any rate. Part of her – the part that had made the Sorting Hat put her in Gryffindor, she supposed – wanted that element of danger. It had to be exciting to always be caught up in such exploits.

“I know it’s in here somewhere…”

The door suddenly creaked open, causing Romilda to jump. She turned, relaxing when she saw that it was only Vicky.

“Hi, Vicky. I can’t seem to find it anywhere….You don’t suppose they made it so that the bottle would just disappear without warning, do you?”

Vicky tilted her head to indicate downstairs. “I think you need to see this.”

Curious, Romilda stood up and made her way down the staircase. The crowd was strangely growing quieter by the second. “What – ”

“There,” Vicky pointed.

Romilda looked. And there she saw Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley, lips pressed together, looking as though they did not care that there was an entire room full of onlookers.

“You see?” Vicky whispered. “He’s liked her for months already, he wasn’t interested in you…”

Mouth working soundlessly, Romilda stared openly. Harry and Ginny broke apart, grinning at each other, and Harry’s eyes roved around the room, searching for someone. Romilda felt them glance over her for a moment, and a strange feeling flamed up inside of her. She wanted to rush over and hit Harry. Was it jealousy? Whatever it was, it smarted like a wound as whispers broke out. Then the portrait closed behind Harry and Ginny, and the whispers became full-fledged voices.

“Did you see that?” a fifth-year girl said. “I wasn’t expecting that to happen!”

“I thought Ginny gave up on him!” another replied. “Remember back in first year, when she sent him that valentine…”

“Oh, yes, with Lockhart’s singing dwarves…”

Stunned, Romilda made her way back up the stairs and began rummaging through her trunk once more. She finally found the small vial, shaped to look like a slender bottle of perfume. There were only a few drops of the potent mixture left, and the rose-colored liquid sparkled as sunlight caught in the crystal-like facets of the vial.

Maybe Harry wasn’t interested in her, but she wondered if he had known about her own feelings. She sank onto her bed, turning the vial over in her fingers.


It was Vicky.


“I had a plan, Vicky. And it failed, okay? You don’t have to feel sorry for me.” Romilda took the vial and flung it against the wall, where it shattered with a sharp, satisfying tinkling of glass. She simply watched as Vicky waved her wand to clean it up.

“Sorry for you?” Vicky asked, looking puzzled. “No, hardly. I’ve been wanting to ask you something for a while, and now that…”

“Ask it already, don’t bother trying to be nice. I already know you wanted me to fail at this.”

“As a matter of fact, I did.” Romilda stared at her. “I’m serious. How happy do you think you would have been if you had succeeded?”

“It would have made my world a better place! I want the adventure that they always have, the danger…”

“Do you?”

Silence. Romilda thought about it.

“My mum’s been lonely,” Vicky said softly. “Dad was an Auror, but he was…he was killed doing his job.”

“Are you saying that if Harry died – ”

“No! You’re taking this completely the wrong way!” Vicky smiled, though her voice trembled. “What I’m trying to say, Romilda, is that the danger is real. It’s not just a game.”

“But still. He’s Harry Potter.”

“True.” She tossed her head again, a habit that let Romilda know she was going to ask another question. “But do you like him as a person, or do you just like the idea of Harry Potter? Because I’m sure that Ginny knows him well enough to see past the fact that he’s famous…”

“Get out.”

Vicky looked back at her, dumbfounded.

“Vicky, please….Just get out. Go back to the celebration or something, but just leave me alone.”

“Fine. Think about it.” Vicky swept out of the room, leaving Romilda alone with her thoughts.

She did have a point, after a fashion. Romilda didn’t know all that much about Harry beyond what she had heard through gossip. Yes, he was not that bad-looking, and he was famous….but beyond that, Romilda knew next to nothing. She didn’t even know when he had his classes; he was that good at evading the crowds.

Maybe clearly hopeless for her. But there were still a few things she was curious about, things she and her friends had heard that Ginny would probably know….Romilda and the other Fourth Years could hardly resist a good bit of gossip….

* * *

The next Saturday, she found Ginny in the common room all by herself. After turning Vicky’s question over in her mind for the past week, Romilda had come to understand that any relationship with Harry – particularly one induced by a love potion – would quickly become boring. It wasn’t all about the adventure, after all. There had to be something else there, something that she clearly did not have. And now she felt much less resentment against Ginny.

“Hello, Romilda,” the redhead said brightly, looking up from an essay she was working on. “Need help with Charms again?”

She was referring to the time she had tutored Romilda. Flitwick had recommended her for the job a few months before, and Ginny, despite all her heavy work for O.W.L.s, had been willing to help Romilda out for a few lessons. It really was hard to dislike her for being Harry’s girlfriend, as the entire school knew she was by now.

“No thanks,” Romilda said. Nevertheless, she slid into the chair across the table as Ginny continued to write. “Where’s Harry?” she asked lightly.

“Oh….He’s serving detention with that git of a professor. Every Saturday from now until the end of school, apparently.”

“Mmm. I see.”

“Look…Is there anything you want, really? Because I need to finish this essay before Harry gets back.”

“Well…you know the rumor that he has a Hippogriff tattooed on his chest?” Romilda ventured.


“Well, is it true?”

Ginny stopped writing and raised an eyebrow. “You really think I would know that?”

“I – ”

She laughed, a mischievous grin spreading on her features. “No, he doesn’t.”


“It’s actually a Hungarian Horntail.”

Romilda leaned forward excitedly. “Really?”

“Really,” Ginny nodded, a solemn expression on her face. “He told me. Now, my brother, on the other hand…I just hope that Hermione doesn’t discover the Pygmy Puff he’s got, if they ever do get around to going out with each other.”

It was fairly common knowledge that the two Sixth-Year Prefects liked each other quite a lot. They were the only ones unwilling to admit it. “Where does he have it?”

Ginny shook her head, smiling in a way that made her look like her twin brothers. “That, Romilda, is something I can’t tell you. Anything else?”

“No,” Romilda said, pushing back her chair. Her friends would indeed be intrigued to hear this latest bit of gossip. “See you, Ginny.”

Chapter 2: Cho Chang
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Cho Chang

“Cho!” A nudge at her side prompted Cho to look up from the N.E.W.T. Transfiguration text she was perusing over breakfast.

“What, Marietta?” Cho’s temper was short this morning, the result of having stayed up to study for the practice exam McGonagall was giving today. “It had better be quick, you know I still have to study twenty more pages…”

“Look over there, where Harry Potter’s sitting.”

Cho raised her eyes and spotted Harry’s face across the hall. A huge smile was on his face as he put an arm around Ginny Weasley’s shoulder. “Boyfriend and girlfriend now, are they?” she said, turning back to her book. The wand must be held in the exact position before the incantation is even thought, else the spell go awry…

“Looks like, doesn’t it?” Marietta said, continuing to stare. Cho glanced up; her friend wasn’t alone. Girls all up and down the hall were looking at the couple, whether in interest or in envy. In fact, Cho seemed to be very much in the minority in that she continued to act unperturbed by the latest development in Harry Potter’s already highly publicized life. “Come on, Cho, don’t you care at all?”


“But you two were going out last year!”

“It was last year, Marietta! I’m quite over it!” Flick the wrist counterclockwise in a swift downward motion…

“But you still can’t even look him in the face. You know, there are times when I wonder whether you are over Cedric yet – ”

Cho stood up abruptly and slammed her book shut, silencing Marietta. “Don’t talk about him,” she said, voice wobbling. Grabbing a piece of buttered toast, she snatched up her bag and swept away from the table. She noticed Harry glancing at her out of the corner of her eye, but he turned away and continued whatever conversation he was having with Ginny at the moment.

Cho stormed out to the front steps and sat, the cool morning air pushing the tears back. She breathed in deeply, willing herself to calm.

Why did she still get so worked up every time Cedric’s name was mentioned? It was as though the entire school had moved on, forgetting him despite Dumbledore’s words. Remember Cedric Diggory. And she was left behind, still mourning his death. She wished she could move forward with her life; perhaps she might have, if only Harry had been willing to talk. Her mother had given her a journal in which to write all her thoughts regarding the matter, promising that she would feel better once she did. Cho had written page after page of thoughts and feelings, and still her grief was not assuaged. She had only wanted to talk to someone who shared some common ground, someone who understood…

She had felt slightly guilty, of course, when she had made the first move on Harry. It felt as though she was somehow betraying Cedric, despite the fact that he had died. She had known since the year before that Harry was taken with her, and she had to admit – there was something about him, in his awkwardness compared to Cedric’s ever-so-smooth actions, that she had found attractive. Perhaps, in a different world, a relationship with him would have worked out. But something about her had changed in the summer between her fifth and sixth year.

Did she regret it? Maybe. She had once been able to make people laugh, and she knew that was one thing Harry sorely needed. She didn’t envy the darkness he had in his life. Something inside her wished that she had gotten to know him better, beyond those first few awkward kisses and his love for Quidditch. But at the same time, she knew that they weren’t right for one another.

And Cedric…

It was with him that she had felt truly in love, for the first and perhaps the only time. Not so with Harry – and she had been able to sense that he had not felt anything as deep for her. Seeing him with Ginny pained Cho, not because of jealousy, but because it sorely reminded her of the way she had felt with Cedric. She didn’t feel the slightest pang of jealousy; in fact, she felt a little happy that Harry had managed to find someone who complemented him much better than she did.

With a rueful smile, Cho recalled their disastrous first and only date to Hogsmeade. She had ended up storming off, trying to invoke Harry’s jealousy. She had known that whatever was between him and his friend Hermione was nothing more than friendship…and anyway, anyone who looked at the Hermione and Ron Weasley knew that they were perfectly smitten with each other, but unwilling to admit it. Harry hadn’t come after Cho on that date as she had hoped, not fast enough. Now that she thought about it, he was probably just clueless enough not to know what to do.

If anything, Cho thought, she had helped him overcome most of his awkwardness. He had looked perfectly comfortable with Ginny – none of the discomfiture Cho had seen while the two of them were going out.

And Ginny? Well, she wasn’t exactly Cho’s friend, especially after playing Seeker opposite Cho in two Quidditch finals and winning both times. The match last Saturday had been a travesty. But from what she knew, Ginny Weasley was much like she, Cho, had been before Cedric’s death: outgoing and popular. And she had been at the Ministry with Harry last year. Cho had to acknowledge that – there was an inner strength in Ginny that she herself did not have. Perhaps that was why Ginny was in Gryffindor and she, Cho, was in Ravenclaw.

The bell rang, signaling that there were five minutes to go before class. Glancing at her bag, Cho sighed. She would have to try and look over the pages one final time as she made her way up to Transfiguration.

She spotted Harry and Ginny coming out of the Great Hall, holding hands. They paused at the foot of the staircase, and Ginny gave Harry a quick peck on the lips before going up the marble steps. Harry, smiling to himself, turned to head to the dungeons.

It only pained her to see them together because she had felt the same way with Cedric…

Cho made up her mind in a flash. She still needed to talk about Cedric, even though it was nearly two years after it had happened. And now that Harry had clearly moved on, perhaps she could try and dispel the awkwardness that had grown between them.

* * *

Cho worked through her Transfiguration exam, and she managed to finish feeling fairly confident about her work, despite being distracted. She was screwing up her courage for what she was about to do.

Harry had a break after his Potions class, she knew; he probably spent it in Gryffindor Tower, but Cho knew that if she hurried, she could catch him at the foot of the stairs. She would just ask for a quick word, nothing more…After all, he had moved on, and she had as well, to a certain extent. There was no harm in it.

The bell rang, and Cho leapt to her feet, speeding out of the classroom before Marietta could cross the room to talk. She walked as quickly as she could to the front staircase and lurked near the bottom, hoping that Harry would pass this way.

There he was, emerging from the passage to the dungeons with his two friends. Cho did her best to look unobtrusive. Hermione looked smug about something, and Cho heard her comments as they walked past her.

“See, Harry, that’s why knowing the theory helps. I’m sure there were reasons behind all those shortcuts, and – oh, all right, they were ingenious, but…”

“You don’t have to gloat,” Ron said.

“There you go, take his side again…”

Cho hurried to catch up behind them and touched Harry lightly on the shoulder. He jumped and began to reach for his wand, but settled down when he saw it was only her.

“Umm…Harry, can I have a word?”

He looked quizzically at her, then at his two friends. “All right.”

Ron looked as though he was about to say something, but Hermione grabbed his arm and tugged him away up the staircase, leaving the other pair quite alone.

“This way,” Cho said, leading him to the door of an unused classroom.

“Er, Cho…”

“It’s not something I want to tell the rest of the school. Please,” she asked.

The hall was empty enough, considering that most of the younger students were still upstairs in their classes and that most of the older students had already gone off to break. Harry glanced quickly around before heaving a sigh. “Oh, all right.”

Cho slipped into the classroom. She heard Harry follow behind her and gently close the door.

“Cho, if this is about me and Ginny – ”

“No, it isn’t.” She turned around to face him, seeing the skeptical look on his features. “No, really…I’m actually happy for you guys! You look perfect for one another…and…I guess…Congratulations.”

Harry raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not jealous at all,” she added.

“Really? I seem to recall that you stormed out on me last year, when you heard that I was going to meet Hermione.”

“Oh – that.” Cho gave a little laugh, smiling wanly. “I was being stupid. And I’m sorry for that.”

“All right,” Harry said. “Is that all you wanted to tell me? Because you could’ve told me out there.”

“No.” He continued to watch her, puzzled. “Harry, I want to talk about – about Cedric.”

Harry sighed and looked away. “Not again.”

Cho willed the tears back; she knew he hated it when she cried, and that doing so would get them nowhere. “Harry, please…” She heard her voice wavering, and cleared her throat against it. “I have to talk about it. I wanted to, and I was worried that you weren’t ready last year.” He looked as though he was about to say something, but she held her hand up. “I was right. And I don’t think I was ready to talk about it either, not properly. All I know was that it happened quickly, that he probably didn’t get a chance to mention me before he died. You’re the only one who really knows what happened, Harry, and after this year I might not see you again.”

Harry sighed and said in a low voice, “It’s still not something I want to talk about.”

“I don’t want to bottle this up for the rest of my life. You see? I want to move on, but I can’t! Not until I hear what really happened.”

“It’s painful bringing it up.”

“And it’s painful for me too.” A single tear leaked out of her eye, but she brushed it away roughly. “You remember what Dumbledore said that night? Remember Cedric Diggory.” Her voice trembled when she pronounced his name. “I’ll remember him always, but I don’t want to spend every waking moment wondering what happened. Please.”

Cho waited, watching Harry. His arms were crossed, and he was staring at the floor with a frown. After several moments, he began to speak quietly.

“I asked him to take the Cup with me. He actually got to it before I did, but…He was too noble to take it for himself. We’d saved each others’ lives in that maze, and he thought I deserved to take it.” Harry looked up and smiled slightly. “I guess we were both too stubborn for our own good.”

Cho merely nodded.

“But afterward…We both took the Cup, but it was a portkey. Moody charmed it,” Harry added, seeing her look of confusion. “Except he wasn’t actually Moody. He was a Death Eater in disguise. He put my name in the Goblet of Fire, helped me through the Tournament, but I wasn’t able to see it….He wanted me to win, you see, so that I would be the first in the maze, the first to touch the Cup. But I ended up taking it with Diggory – Cedric.

“There was a graveyard when we landed. Voldemort was waiting.” Cho shivered at the name, wondering at Harry’s ability to say it without fear.

“It was quick, Cho, but I can tell you that he died standing with his wand in hand. I know you’re going to say it’s my fault,” Harry added. “I know it is. I’m…I’m really sorry.”

A few more tears had managed to trace their way down Cho’s face, and this time she let them fall. It was as though these were the final tears she would shed thinking of Cedric, as though she was washing away the grief that had weighed heavily on her for the past two years. For a few awkward moments she stood there, Harry watching silently. When she finally drew a shaking breath, she felt lighter, more ready to move on.

“Thank you,” she said softly. “And – I don’t blame you at all. V-V-Voldemort is the one who’s responsible.”

It was the first time she had said his name, and she saw Harry smiling. “See? It’s really not so bad, saying it. It’s only a name, after all.”

“True.” Cho held out her hand. “Are we good, then?”

Harry hesitated for only a moment before grasping her hand and giving it a brief shake. “I think so.”

As he headed to the door, Cho called out, “Harry?”

He turned around.

“Good luck with Ginny. You two really are good for one another.”

“Thanks, Cho. As for you,” he said, putting a hand on the doorknob, “good luck with your life after Hogwarts, if I don’t see you again.”

“N.E.W.T.s are first,” she said grimly.

“Then good luck with those,” he said.

Harry slipped out the door. Cho waited a few moments before following. The mid-morning sunshine streamed into the Great Hall, and the doors were open to let the fresh air in. Memories – oh, so many memories of her life had been formed in this school. She would be leaving soon; it was hard to think that in less than a month she would walk out of Hogwarts’s doors for the last time as a student. And she had not really begun to say goodbye.

She could start somewhere.

“Goodbye, Cedric,” she said softly. The words were carried outside by the faint breeze. Wherever he was, he would hear her. But now it was time to lay those memories aside and look forward.

Smiling, Cho made her way up the marble staircase. She was finally ready to move on.

Chapter 3: Molly Weasley
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Molly Weasley


Startled, Molly Weasley looked up from the pot of creamy sauce that she had been watching on the stove. The sound had come from the window. She gripped her wand carefully and crept slowly closer, peering at the glass. The yard looked peaceful enough, with the sun setting behind the hill. Then, all of a sudden, a thoroughly overexcited bundle of feathers flapped up from the ground to hover in front of the window.

“Oh my goodness, Pigwidgeon!” Molly hurried to open the window, and shut it as the owl flew in. “You poor thing! Are you all right?”

The tiny owl’s excited hoots were enough answer. Molly had never quite understood Ginny’s reasoning behind naming the owl “Pigwidgeon”, but the name had stuck, much to Ron’s annoyance. “Come here, you silly thing! I have to untie that bundle!”

The owl fluttered down onto the back of a chair, still hopping madly. Molly had to struggle to remove the small bundle of parchment. The owl had been carrying two letters; she recognized Ron’s untidy scrawl and Ginny’s small, neat handwriting on the outsides. She decided to open Ron’s first.

Mum –

WE WON THE CUP! It was unbelievable, we beat Ravenclaw by more than one-hundred and fifty points. I was playing Keeper, of course, but Ginny had to play Seeker – Snape was in a foul mood one day and decided to give Harry detention on Saturdays.

Anyways, speaking of Ginny and Harry – they’re going out now. Started right after the Quidditch match, apparently. Don’t worry, Mum, I’ve already threatened him, and he already knows that if he hurts Ginny…well, if she doesn’t get him, there’s me and the rest of us as well. Poor bloke. I can’t imagine what this summer will be like, with the twins and Bill and Charlie all there this summer.

All right, I’d better finish up now; Ginny’s got her letter ready and is waiting for me to get Pig to bring these letters.

~ Ron

Molly smiled. So Ginny and Harry were finally going out! She had seen the signs, of course, during the last few weeks before school began. Her instincts as a woman and a mother certainly let her know that Harry had taken quite a liking to her daughter. Ginny was a different matter entirely, but Molly had known that she had never really given up on Harry. The obvious childhood crush was gone, but something else had lingered.

She read Ginny’s letter next. Her daughter had given her a similar account of the recent events, together with a small request to have the other Weasley boys not give Harry too difficult a time that summer. I think it’s going to last for a while, Mum, the letter read. I know I’ve had a few boyfriends already, but Harry’s different.

For years Harry had been almost like a son to Molly. Perhaps one day…

“Don’t start thinking that far ahead,” she murmured to herself.

“What’s that, Mum?”

Molly jumped as Bill entered the kitchen, Fleur just behind him. “Oh – nothing really, dear. Here, you have a look…”

She held the letters out to Bill, who took them with a quizzical expression. Fleur tilted her head so she could get a better look, her arm wrapped around his waist. Bill’s arm moved to rest on her shoulders.

My children are all growing up. Until that moment, it had never fully hit Molly. But now – here was her oldest, engaged to be married. And there was a letter from her youngest, explaining the situation with Harry.

It had taken her a while to accept Fleur – at first, Molly could not get past the thought that part-Veela’s beauty might have been all that had attracted Bill. But ever so slowly, she had learned that Fleur had her own brand of courage and strength that complemented Bill’s. She had been a Triwizard Champion, Molly remembered, and that had to count for something. Behind Fleur’s beautiful face was a good mind and inner courage. Of course, stubborn as she was, Molly had so far refused to admit that she saw this much in her future daughter-in-law, at least out loud.

“Eet has ‘appened then!” Fleur sighed happily. “I knew eet zis Chreestmas, whenever ‘Arry looked at Ginny…”

“He’d better be good to her,” Bill said in a serious voice. “Or else….” He trailed off.

Molly smiled. She knew that all of the Weasley boys loved their sister, but that Bill was probably the brother that Ginny admired the most. And truth be told, they were the most alike – not as serious as Charlie, more subtle in their humor than the twins, and slightly more even-tempered than Ron. “I’m sure Harry won’t do anything to hurt her, dear,” she said, “especially not with Ron there.”

“Remember when she was ten, that summer I came to visit? She wouldn’t stop going on about how she had seen Harry Potter at the train station!”

“Who would’ve known,” Molly mused.

“Who indeed,” Bill nodded. He grinned down at Fleur. “You didn’t even speak to me the first time you saw me.”

“Ah, I know. But even then…”

The two of them smiled at each other, saying more without words. Molly quickly busied herself with cooking so as to avoid staring at them. I’ve had a few boyfriends already, but Harry’s different, she remembered from Ginny’s letter. Molly had known a few of Bill’s girlfriends from over the years, but he had never interacted with any girl as he did with Fleur.

She was worried, of course, that they might one day simply disappear together and get married. She and Arthur had done just that rash thing when they were young, what with You-Know-Who rising to power. More than twenty years later, Molly knew that while she may not have done the right thing, at least to her family and his, she had married the right person. The corner of her mouth twitched as a thread of memory floated across her mind.

Arthur’s proposal had not terribly romantic. Well, it was, in its own way, since it was unexpected. No expensive candlelit dinners for him; they had simply been walking down Diagon Alley looking at the various shops when he had put his arms around her and asked her the question. A week later they ran off together and got married. That was so long ago; they had been fresh out of Hogwarts, younger than Bill and Fleur were now. Scarcely older than Harry and Ginny were, in fact, but they had been very madly in love.

And here she was today. She had never expected or wanted anything from Arthur but his love. His family had been by no means rich, but what she loved most about him was that he followed whatever dreams his heart had no matter what. She remembered him from Hogwarts – always working hard to be at or near the top of the class. Arthur was an intelligent man, and he could have chosen to take up any job in the Ministry or elsewhere that would have earned him a handsome amount of money. Instead he had decided to work in the place that allowed him to incorporate his passion – love of anything to do with Muggles – into his work.

But it never mattered to her that they were not rich in material goods, or that it sometimes seemed that they would not have enough to keep their children happy. They had all they needed in each other. People like the Malfoys would never understand that there was only so much that money could buy, and that the joy of having a house full of children was not one of those things.

But one by one they were leaving. Bill and Charlie had already left. Like their father, they had followed their passions – Bill to Egypt, and Charlie to Romania. But even if they were far away, they at least came back to visit. She never felt as though her family was in pieces because her two eldest sons were in far-off countries.

Percy – was Percy. It saddened Molly to think of him. He had been so absorbed in his work that when Penelope’s breakup letter had arrived with the post one morning, it had come as a huge shock. And then there was the fight that had taken place between him and Arthur. But nevertheless, in her heart of hearts, Molly hoped that he would come back again. No, she did not hope – she knew. Ambitious though Percy was, Molly knew that he would not forget that he was part of the family. One day he would find a balance between pursuing his dream of leading the Ministry and his family.


Molly was pulled out of her reverie by Bill’s voice. “Hmm?”

“You all right?”

“Just thinking. Go on, why don’t you and Fleur get some fresh air? I’ll finish cooking in here and call everyone when it’s time for dinner.”

Molly turned back to the window and released Pigwidgeon into the evening sky as the young couple exited the room. She watched through the now-open window as Bill and Fleur wandered out into the yard. The young woman’s silvery laugh rang out as Bill picked her up and spun in circles. Molly wistfully recalled the days when she had been able to lift Bill up and let him pretend that he was flying in circles. That had been so long ago! Soon enough she might be watching her grandchildren play. Bill had even told her what the name of his and Fleur’s firstborn son would be: Gideon, after Molly’s own brother.

She waved her wand and the piecrusts for dessert began rolling themselves out. Even now, she could picture it – a house full of young children once more, many of them with flaming red hair, others with blond, others with dark. Little Gideon, bright blue eyes alive with happiness, face sticky with sweets and juice (as Bill’s often had been, more so than any of Molly’s other children). She only wished that all of her as-yet nonexistent grandchildren would be able to grow up in a world that was not overshadowed by darkness, in a world that was not dominated by fear.

She knew the worry that came from having to brothers fight against You-Know-Who. She knew the pain that came from losing a sibling in the fight against evil. She did not want any of her children to feel that pain. She did not want any of her grandchildren even knowing that such a world could exist.

Of course, there were Fred and George, who could make anyone forget for just a moment that there was such a thing as darkness in the world. Even though she had not entirely approved of their idea to open a joke shop, she saw now that it was their dream to do so. And it was now more than ever that she truly appreciated their talent to bring laughter to others’ lives, now that You-Know-Who was back.

Perhaps Harry was the only one who could stop You-Know-Who, just like last time. It wrenched Molly’s heart to see him grow, to see him become ever more solemn each time. What he needed was some laughter and happiness in his life – and Ginny could give him that.

It was not actually clear to Molly just exactly where Ginny would take her life. By the time they reached his fifth year at Hogwarts, Bill had been studying as hard as he could to become a Curse Breaker. Charlie had unexpectedly chosen the path of a dragon researcher over that of a Quidditch player – but then again, he had always loved adventure, and had hardly hesitated when the opportunity came up to research Romanian Longhorns and Hungarian Horntails firsthand. Percy had been set in his determination to become a Ministry worker from his third year. And the twins had always been jokers.

The stew on the stove was bubbling merrily, and the potatoes were done. With a flick of her wand Molly sent the blueberry pies into the oven, emerging at last from her own thoughts. She peered around the entrance to the kitchen to find Arthur dozing upon the couch, newspaper in hand.

“Arthur, dear,” she said, giving him a kiss on the forehead. “Arthur, dinner’s ready.”

Her husband awoke. “Sorry, Molly,” he said, straightening his robes. “Work’s been hectic, I never – ”

“I was wondering why you weren’t coming into the kitchen earlier. It’s your favorite stew that’s for dinner, after all.” Molly straightened and headed to the back door to call Bill and Fleur inside.

They all sat around the scrubbed wooden table in the kitchen. Arthur walked into the kitchen and sighed as he put the paper down.

“You-Know-Who’s been at it again,” he said. “Three more attacks in the past week alone. I only hope that the Aurors are doing all they can to prevent any more.”

“D’you really think that what they’ve been saying is true?” Bill asked. “That Harry’s actually ‘The Chosen One’?”

“I don’t know, Bill,” Arthur said. “I want to believe in Harry, but at the same time…”

Molly spoke up. “He’s as close as a son in our family. We’re all just worried for him, what with all the danger out there.”

“Ron too,” Bill said. “He wants to be an Auror, remember?”

Molly had overheard a conversation during the previous summer in which Ron mentioned that he was considering a career as an Auror. It was fitting, considering that he was Harry’s friend. Even so, Molly was worried. She did not want to deter him, but her own brothers had been Aurors. And – oh, it pained her so much to hear Ron tell Ginny not to worry about his choice! It reminded her so strongly of her brother Fabian.

“I’m not going to stop him if he really wants it,” Molly said. “I tried with Fred and George, but it didn’t work. No matter how worried we’d all be – I’m not going to try and get in the way.”

Mais – but ze job is so dangerous!” Fleur interjected. “If ‘e was to be ‘urt – ”

“But it’s not about that at all, Fleur,” Molly said. “This family is one of people who make their dreams a reality.”

There was silence for a few moments as everyone quietly ate. Then Molly added, “Harry’s as close as a son and brother in our family, and so I know that You-Know-Who will be defeated. And we’ll all help him get there – all of us, even Ginny. Especially Ginny. If we all together dream and work towards defeating You-Know-Who, then it can happen.”

And Molly knew that this was true.

Chapter 4: Hermione Granger
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To my dear readers: I know it's been more than two years since I began posting this story. Since then, I have graduated from college, been accepted into medical school, and...well, have just generally been pretty busy. But! "Through Our Eyes" is finally FINISHED! I plan to post the rest of the story in a few weeks. Hopefully I will be able to add to my other stories before my medical studies begin, because I know that I won't have much time to write once they do.

Thank you to all of the readers who have left reviews, and thanks to those of you who have even just read this story; it really means a lot and your thoughts will keep me inspired to write! And without further ado - here is the latest installment of "Through Our Eyes".

Hermione Granger

Hermione made her way back to Gryffindor tower, a collection of news clippings in her arms. She had found exactly what she was looking for, and Harry wasn’t going to like what she had to tell him. The thought that Snape was the Half-Blood Prince would probably be something that Harry would find repulsive.

“Hermione!” a voice called behind her. “Wait up!”

She turned to see Ginny Weasley waving at her. “Hello, Ginny! I thought you were studying?”

“Need to go back – I forgot my Potions book.” The younger girl grimaced as she said this. “I’ll be glad when I’m done with that O.W.L.”

When they climbed through the portrait hole, however, they found only Ron sitting at the table where she had left him. “Where’s Harry?” Ginny asked her brother, voicing Hermione’s thought.

“Had a meeting with Dumbledore,” Ron replied, frowning over his Herbology essay. “I’m nearly done, Hermione, d’you think you could look over this quickly?”

Hermoine felt her cheeks warm slightly, but she merely said, “Yes.” Ginny shot a look at Hermione for a second before going up to her room.

Rolling her eyes, Hermione sat down. “Here, let me see,” she said. Ron pushed the essay toward her.

“Wonder what Dumbledore’s going to say to him this time,” Ron said as Hermione scanned the essay. “Peakes came over with a note. Said that Dumbledore wanted to see Harry at once.”

Hermione did not reply immediately, reaching instead for the quill that Ron had left on the table. She was still slightly ruffled that Harry had not been receptive to the idea that Eileen Prince had indeed owned Harry’s copy of Advanced Potion-Making. But she was equally curious about what Dumbledore had to tell Harry. “Well, it has to be something important. The note certainly seemed urgent enough, from what you said.”

“Maybe he’s found a –”

Shh!” Hermione said, waving the quill in the direction of some first-years seated nearby. “Yes, maybe that’s true. But really – do you honestly think Dumbledore would take Harry along?”

“You’re asking me this?”

“I was only saying – ”

“Oh, come on, Hermione. Remember first year? The Cloak? And the thing with Sirius in third year…”

“But none of them were nearly as dangerous as this might be!” Hermione fretted.

Ron cocked an eyebrow. “You seem awfully worried.”

“Don’t be silly, Ron,” she scoffed. Why did he always accuse her of being attracted to others? “He’s my friend as well as yours, of course I’m worried! The problem is that he doesn’t see sense sometimes!”

“He seems to do well enough,” Ron replied. “You’re still annoyed that he didn’t listen to you earlier. And he does have a point – the writing looks more like a bloke’s. It’s bad – like mine is, actually,” he added, looking at the essay she was correcting.

Hermione couldn’t help but smile in amusement, but she concealed her expression by shifting her hair in front of her face. “Not all girls have good handwriting,” she countered, unwilling to give ground. “You can’t use me and your sister as your basis for making that sort of judgment.”

“What about his sister?” came Ginny’s voice from the girls’ staircase.

“Hermione thinks that not all girls have good handwriting,” Ron said.

The younger girl looked at Ron with a raised eyebrow, then glanced at Hermione. “Of all the things you two could argue over, you had to choose something that daft? Honestly, you two bicker like an old married couple.”

Something inside of Hermione squirmed at Ginny’s statement, but she ignored it and focused on Ron’s essay, pretending to have difficulty deciphering his scrawl – which, of course, she could read easily enough. Six years of experience had given her the ability to read Ron’s handwriting as fluently as though it were her own neat cursive.

“What are you doing now, anyway?” Ron asked.

Ginny shifted her bag on her shoulder and made a face. “O.W.L.s studying,” she said grimly. “Potions and Transfiguration. I meant to do it earlier today, but I decided to spend a bit of time with Harry down by the lake. It’s such a nice day out, too, but no, of course I have to spend the rest of it in the library.”

“Maybe if you hadn’t gone – ” Hermione began, but Ginny shook her head, grinning.

“Thanks, Mum, but I know. I’ll study hard, I promise. Let Harry know where I am if he asks, all right?”

“Maybe I won’t let him know,” Ron said, smirking. “You spend quite enough time together, and you need to study.”

“This coming from you?” she asked in disbelief. “Tell him, Ron. I’ll know if you don’t, and anyway…let’s just say that I’ve been modifying my Bat-Bogey Hex.” Grinning cheekily, Ginny waved and slipped out into the corridor.

Harry returned ten minutes later, dashing madly through the portrait hole. Hermione began to question him but he merely mumbled something and continued to run up the stairs to his dormitory. She and Ron exchanged quizzical looks.

Less than a minute later, Harry sprinted back down the stairs to the common room, skidding to a halt in front of the pair of them. Hermione only half listened as he explained the situation.

“Dumbledore’s taking me to find a – well, you know.” Hermione gasped when she heard this, but Harry ignored her. “I ran into Trelawney outside the Room of Requirement on the way to his office and I’m sure she heard Malfoy cheering. Which means that he’s finished whatever it is that he’s been working on – ”

“Harry, where – ” Ron began, but Harry continued to talk over him.

“The school’s in danger!” he said hotly. Ron and Hermione tried to get another word in edgewise – to find out where he was going, to find out what the danger entailed. But he kept shaking his head and speaking rapidly. Finally he slowed down and gave an old piece of parchment to Hermione, who immediately recognized it as the Marauder’s Map. To Ron he gave a pair of balled-up socks containing, he explained, his Felix Felicis.

Seconds later he was gone, hurtling back through the portrait hole. Ron and Hermione stood in silence for a few moments before speaking.

“D’you reckon it’s true?” Ron asked. “About Malfoy?”

“I think it is ridiculous, I’ve been telling him for months!” Hermione replied, shaking her head. “All the same, it can’t hurt to keep an eye on the Map. Here, you’ve got Hardwick’s method for bobbleflower cultivation correct, but you need to add the plant’s uses to your conclusion. It’s part of the requirements, remember?” She slid the essay back across the table to Ron, who grinned in thanks.

“You’re the only one who can edit essays like this, Hermione, thanks a lot.”

She felt a fluttering sensation in her chest. “Er, well…Thanks.” Quickly, she looked about to find the Marauder’s Map in order to keep herself busy.

Tapping her wand gently to the parchment, she whispered, “I solemnly swear I am up to no good.” It made her feel odd every time she said that to use the Map – but then again, ever since she had met Harry and Ron, she had become one of the most determined rule-breakers in her class. Her nearly spotless record was greatly at odds with the various bits of mischief she had gotten into throughout her years at Hogwarts. Harry’s stubbornness and Ron’s grin were always enough to convince her to not report their doings to any professor – she supposed they were bad influences, but she did not regret meeting either one. Especially Ron.

Heat rose in her cheeks at this thought, and she cast her gaze to the moving figures on the Map. She scanned the Slytherin common room, the classrooms and offices of Malfoy’s teachers, and then quickly glanced along all the hallways. But Malfoy’s dot was nowhere to be seen.



She turned the parchment so that he could read it properly. “Malfoy’s not in here anywhere, not even on the grounds.”

Ron looked up from his essay and set his quill down before coming to stand beside her chair. He leaned in close to study the Map just as carefully.

“Could he have gone to Hogsmeade?” he asked.

“Perhaps, but what on earth would he be doing there? And how could he possibly get there at this hour? He can’t get through the main gates.”

“The passage behind the one-eyed witch?” Ron suggested.

“Not likely,” she replied. “Not unless he somehow found out the password.”

Hermione raised her eyes to meet Ron’s, and an unspoken agreement passed between them. Silently they both acknowledged that Harry could be right, as much as neither of them wanted to admit it.

“He’s up to something,” Ron said, blue eyes turning to the area on the Map where the Room of Requirement lay hidden, unmarked, perhaps Unplottable. “Reckon we should rally our troops and keep watch? Oh, but you’re ahead of me on that, as usual.”

Hermione had already withdrawn the fake Galleon from her pocket. She and Ron looked at it as it lay in her palm.

“Do you think anyone still carries them?” she asked.

In response, Ron dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out his own fake piece of gold. “I’m sure that Ginny, Luna, and Neville still have them, if no one else does. Don’t worry.”

Reassured by the confidence in his voice, Hermione touched the coin with her wand.

* * *

“What are we looking for, exactly?” Ginny asked in a low voice as they all met just outside the Room of Requirement.

“Malfoy,” her older brother replied tersely, his eyes fixed on the blank stretch of wall where the entrance lay hidden. “But we’re not sure what else. Here, take this.” He held out the balled-up socks Harry had given him earlier.

Ginny wrinkled her nose. “Honestly, Ron, I know Harry’s my boyfriend, but why would I want a pair of his socks? Is that supposed to be a good luck charm of some sort?”

“Actually,” Ron smiled, “it is. Open it up.”

His sister carefully undid the socks and revealed the tiny bottle of Felix Felicis.

“We need to divide this up among all of us,” Hermione said. “Harry wanted us to have it, because he thinks we’ll need it.”

“Where is Harry?” Ginny asked.

Hermione and Ron exchanged a look. “We don’t know,” Hermione finally sighed.

“You know something! I know that look you two share, when you’re keeping something quiet!” Ginny whispered fiercely. “Just tell me where he is!”

“Ginny, we don’t know!” Ron hissed back. “And even if we did, we promised him that we wouldn’t say anything! Just take your share of potion, please.”

She glared back at him mutinously, but raised the bottle to her mouth and tipped it back for a small mouthful.

“Don’t worry, Ginny, Harry’s probably just off looking for Wobbling Quiblies,” Luna said serenely.

Everyone stared at her as she continued, “Their feathers supposed to be really effective against Dark magic. Daddy says we’ll look for some this summer so we can ward off Dark wizards.” Luna accepted the tiny bottle and took a sip before passing it to Neville.

As soon as Ron drained the last few drops (he had insisted that Hermione take a second tiny sip as she passed the bottle to him), he rubbed his hands together and began to think. Hermione was strongly reminded of the times she had played chess against him.

“We need a battle plan,” he said. “Malfoy may or may not be in the Room of Requirement, and we don’t know what to expect. But we should also keep a watch on Snape’s office. So…” he trailed off, looking at the others. “Hermione, Luna, you watch Snape’s office. More of us are needed here, but it’s better if at least two of you go. The rest of us – me, Ginny, Neville – we stay here.”

They all nodded their assent, and Hermione and Luna began the descent downstairs in silence. Free from the typical hubbub of Potions classes, the dungeons were eerily silent. The only sounds were the guttering torches and the breathing of the two girls. They passed several minutes without exchanging a word.

“He fancies you, you know,” Luna whispered suddenly into the stillness.

Hermione stifled a startled yelp and felt her cheeks turn red. “Who ever are you talking about?” she asked, keeping her voice steady.

“Why, Ron, of course!” Luna replied, her large eyes staring widely at Hermione. “Just like Ginny and Harry. The whole school knows you and Ron fancy each other, except maybe you two. Though I suppose now you know – so only Ron doesn’t, I suppose.”

She was not often at the receiving end of Luna’s uncomfortably honest words, but Hermione now felt the unintended sting that came with them. And how exactly could she reply? She had known, perhaps since their fourth year, that she felt – well, she could not put it into words how she felt about Ron. She did know that his antics with Lavender had driven her mad. In some inexplicable way, she felt that Ron was hers.

Her rational half knew that this was absurd; she and Ron had been friends for years, and even with the – whatever it was – between them, they had never been anything more. As she had told Harry months before, Ron was a perfect liberty to date whomever he pleased. But she had lied in the second part of her statement, where she had nonchalantly stated that she didn’t care. She did care, far more than she wished to admit to herself. She glanced back at Luna, but the other girl was humming softly to herself. As a precaution, Hermione wordlessly cast the Muffliato spell to ensure that they would not be heard.

The whole school knows you fancy each other, except maybe you two. Perhaps Luna was right. I fancy Ron. As Hermione thought this, her heart fluttered in a manner akin to the way it felt whenever he touched her hand. Why had it taken her so long to admit this to herself? Why had she needed to hear Luna state the words so baldly to even consider this possibility? Moreover, why had she refused to see it when Lavender made her jealous?

Perhaps she had been scared to take their friendship any further. Twice in their friendship they had stopped talking altogether – first in their third year, then this past year. Those disagreements were petty in the grand scheme of things, and Hermione could not imagine what it would be like if she and Ron entered a relationship then split up. The two of them were fantastically stubborn, and she knew just how difficult it would be for Harry if she and Ron never talked again. Perhaps she had subconsciously been trying to protect her friendship with both Ron and Harry and had suppressed her feelings for Ron as a result.

And was Luna right? You fancy each other. Some sort of tension had been simmering between them ever since Viktor Krum took her to the Yule Ball; that much was clear. At the time she had put it off as Ron’s protectiveness, born from his elder-brother instincts. But now, in this new light…

Perhaps Luna’s observation was correct. Ron’s feelings were there in the way he complimented Hermione whenever she corrected his work. They were there when he made her laugh, his blue eyes merry with shared amusement. And they were there – why, they were there in his surliness upon hearing that she and Viktor were still in contact!

Her head was reeling with sudden realization – or was it the fact that she had so abruptly admitted the truth to herself? She quickly put her hand to the cold stone wall to steady herself.

“Are you all right?” Luna asked.

“Never better,” Hermione replied, smiling to herself. “And now we wait.”

* * *

The sun was high and bright, the weather fair. It should have been a day of celebration; the school term was over, and the Hogwarts Express was leaving in a few short hours. Instead the mood was solemn, the air thick with grief for Dumbledore. Hermione had instinctively turned to Ron for comfort, crying into the shoulder of his robe. Without looking she knew that tears were falling from his face as well even though he tried to hide it. Every minute or so his hand stopped stroking her hair and reached up to dash the wetness from his eyes. Despite the sadness of the moment, Hermione could not help but think how right it felt to be in Ron’s embrace, holding each other for comfort.

They held each other through the end of the funeral, when others had gotten up to leave. Wordlessly Hermione pulled back, wiping the last few tears away. Harry had left to wander along the lake. Ginny, too, had left her place next to Hermione and was standing stone-faced fifteen feet away, staring at Harry. It did not take Hermione long to guess what had just transpired. Harry, foolishly playing the hero! She had seen the two of them together and knew that they were meant to be. Long ago she had scoffed at the romantic idea of soul mates, but Harry and Ginny had begun to dispel that notion.

And she was fairly sure she had found a soul mate of her own. It had just taken her six years to realize it.


She turned her red-rimmed eyes to meet Ron’s.

“I know what you’re thinking…”

She could hardly believe her ears. Was he actually going to tell her…?

“You think that Harry’s going to try and give us the slip this summer, aren’t you?”

Hermione was torn between laughing and weeping some more. It wasn’t what she was thinking at all, but the way Ron has sounded so sure amused her. She wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around his neck and hold him tightly. The world had changed so much in the past few days, and even Hogwarts no longer felt like the safe haven it had been. Though she knew it was foolish, Hermione felt that merely holding Ron would help the world seem right again.

But she couldn’t let her feelings get the better of her. Now wasn’t the time; she and Ron would have to ignore any feelings they had for each other for another long while. The world would need to settle before they could move forward. Hermione glanced at Ginny, who was wearing a masklike expression, her face turned away from Harry. She was not crying – Ginny was not easily moved to tears – but Hermione knew her friend. She knew just how deeply Ginny had cared for Harry.

Maybe Harry was right to break it off with Ginny. Now was not the time for relationships. Now was the time to put head in front of heart, to let reason and not love guide the way. Dumbledore was right; love was a great strength, but Hermione knew that it could be distracting. She thought back to the way her grades had suffered when Ron had begun dating Lavender – a week of only “Acceptable” grades. Acceptable wasn’t going to be good enough in the fight against Voldemort. They needed to be outstanding. These words would be no comfort to Ginny, but perhaps Harry had thought much the same thing.

“Hermione? You there?”

She sighed. “Yes. I agree. That can’t happen. And as much as I hate to say it…” She trailed off, glancing at the castle, home of so many memories. “I’m not coming back.”

“Neither am I.”

It was so easy to fall back into their easy banter. Hermione smiled and said, “Avoiding schoolwork now?”

“That’s not it at all, and you know it!”

“I know, I know,” she said, lapsing back into seriousness.

“We’ll be there for him. We made our choice, we’re with him all the way,” Ron said.

We. A simple two-letter word. It was what allowed Hermione to push those romantic thoughts and agree. “Let’s talk to him.”

As they set out together, near enough to touch but not quite, Hermione looked once more for Ginny. The younger girl had disappeared into the crowd. It hadn’t been the time for her and Harry, no matter how deep their feelings. Similarly, it wasn’t yet time for Hermione to be with Ron – officially, at least. Little could be done to dispel the obvious tension between them so long as they kept dancing around their feelings, but they would do it for Harry. And one day, maybe when the world was right again, they would truly become a “we”.

Chapter 5: Ginny Weasley
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Dear readers - Thank you so much for your patience as you waited for me to finish this story up! I certainly hope you enjoy the final chapter. If you haven't already done so, check out the companion story, "You Do Approve, Don't You?" on my page. Much love and thanks - and please leave a review!

Ginny Weasley

These past few weeks had been the happiest of her life. Happier than all the birthday parties her family had celebrated with her, happier than the moment she finally received her Hogwarts letter. From that first moment in the common room to this last one by the lake, she knew that she would cherish those memories forever.

Even though Harry was still well within her sight by the side of the lake, Ginny had already begun to miss him. The way a jolt had gone through her body every time they held hands, the way they had spent hours talking about everything and nothing, the way that they had been able to communicate so much in wordless glances – she felt that she would never again be able to find that with another person. But instead of sadness or anger, all she felt was a deep emptiness. He had unwittingly taken a piece of her heart with him, leaving that space.

It had never been like this before, not with Michael or Dean. She had cared for them, but something this time was different, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on. As silly as it sounded – Ginny knew her brothers would ridicule her if she ever said it – it was as if being with Harry made her completely whole.

She thought back to that time long ago, when she was a mere ten year-old chasing the Hogwarts Express as Ron rode away. She had cried that time, wondering how she would fill her days. Ron was the brother to whom she was closest. Fred and George had each other, and Percy, Charlie, and Bill were all too old to be interested in playing games with their two youngest siblings, so naturally, she and Ron has bonded closely. She had spent that rest of the day moping, wondering what to do with herself. Breaking into the broom shed was no fun when she had no brothers to avoid, even if Charlie’s old broom was still there.

But as that year wore on, she had become excited by one thing: Ron’s letters, telling his family about how he had become friends with Harry Potter! The famous Harry Potter, best friend to her brother – there was no doubt she would meet him someday. She had pestered her mother to tell her everything she knew about Harry (which wasn’t much, other than the story about how he had somehow defeated Voldemort). She had filled her diary with musings about him, and by the end of that year she had developed a crush on the boy she had never even met.

Then came the embarrassment of her first year at Hogwarts – the blushing, the petrified squeaks, even that foolish valentine. But there was also the fear, the darkness. She remembered the moment she awoke in the Chamber of Secrets to find Harry next to her. My knight in shining armor, she had thought before bursting into tears. It was the stuff of tales, the way he had rescued her, but it was one of the more terrifying moments in her young life as well.

Ginny knew that those feelings had faded with time as she had befriended Harry. She no longer saw the celebrity; she saw his kindness, courage, and unwavering loyalty. And there was an even deeper connection; both of them knew what it was like to have Voldemort invade their minds. Ginny could never fully explain how that felt to anyone, but Harry had understood it immediately. It was one of many things that made her feel so at ease with him.

Neither of them were moved to tears very easily either. She couldn’t quite remember how it came up in their conversation – during a similarly sunny day by the lake, no less.

“I never cried after my first year here,” she had said. “I used to do it every now and then at home, but only rarely. But after – after the Chamber, after him, it’s…”

“It’s as if he took away your ability to do it,” Harry finished for her. “That’s how it’s been for me.”

She did find the way Voldemort connected the two of them a little odd. What would it have been like, she wondered, if Voldemort had never attacked Harry’s family, or better yet, if Voldemort had never existed? Would she and Harry have ever even interacted? By his very existence, Voldemort had made Ginny show certain aspects of her personality that may never have come to light. Despite all the terrible things he had done, Ginny could never fully separate Voldemort from her relationship with Harry.

It was useless to wonder that now. She and Harry had parted ways. Part of her understood his desire to keep her safe, but the other part of her felt empty. They could have had months or even years, but – it all came back to Voldemort. She shook her head at the irony of the situation – without Voldemort, they may never have gotten together. But now, because of him, they could no longer be a couple.

She glanced up and spotted Ron and Hermione, who were standing inches apart. Part of her envied Ron. Harry would allow him to follow no matter what. And he had Hermione, even if he was too thick to fully realize it. Turning away, Ginny followed the crowd back to the castle, where everyone would change out of their dress robes and gather their last few odds and ends. The train was leaving in only a few hours.

“What will it be like, I wonder?” came Luna’s voice from her left.

By now Ginny was used to her friend appearing suddenly, so she was not startled to see her there, Neville in tow. “What do you mean?” she asked.

“Hogwarts, without Dumbledore,” Luna replied. “Daddy always said that Dumbledore was a great headmaster. What will it be like, without him to protect us?”

“McGonagall will keep us safe,” Neville said, sounding reassured. “The teachers here were all loyal to Dumbledore. They’ll do their best.”

“Still…” Luna trailed off.

Strange, how quickly the world could move on. Ginny remembered how, two years before, the school had been similarly beset with grief at the murder of a fellow student. Dumbledore had implored the students to remember, and yet Ginny hadn’t been able to stop wondering at the sense of near-normalcy at Hogwarts when the next term started. Now she wondered how long it would take the school to forget about Dumbledore. It wouldn’t be easy, considering the state of the Wizarding world at the moment. And the presence of Dumbledore’s tomb beside the lake would help the school remember him.

Dumbledore’s death would clearly eclipse the fact that Harry had broken things off with Ginny. Luna and Neville were still chatting, oblivious. How would they sit on the train home? They – Harry, Ginny, Hermione, Ron, Neville, and Luna – had all made plans to find a compartment together; how would they break the news to this close circle of friends? In any case, Ginny was exceedingly glad to know that none of their circle of six would broadcast the news to the rest of the school – though undoubtedly, the news would spread like wildfire once the likes of Romilda Vane and her friends caught wind of it.

Turning once more, she saw that Ron and Hermione had approached Harry. The three were deep in conversation, perhaps plotting their next move in their supposedly important mission. She could not stand by without knowing what they were up to.

Perhaps, if she played her cards right, she might find out.

* * *

Ginny’s trunk was packed, her dress robes stowed near the top, her spellbooks and potion kit gathered up from the various corners of the castle. All around her, her classmates (well, Romilda and Vicky, mostly) were conversing in strident tones, acting as chipper as it was possible to be on such a dreary day. Or perhaps they were speaking in normal voices and were acting subdued, and it was simply Ginny’s perception that all the other girls were much more cheerful than she was. Either way, she had to leave the room. Checking that her wand was in her pocket, she slipped into the hallway that contained the Gryffindor girls’ dormitories. She located the door labeled Sixth Years, and knocked quickly before pushing the door open.

Hermione was alone, pondering some moldy old tome she had likely procured earlier that year with a look of distaste upon her features. As the older girl looked up at Ginny, she hastily stuffed the book into her trunk, slamming the trunk lid down before seating herself upon it. “Oh, Ginny! Are you packed already? I just finished, I was about to check my covers to make absolutely sure – ”

“He broke it off,” Ginny stated baldly.

Hermione simply stared. Ginny approached her friend’s four-poster, and collapsed onto it. She thought she had cried all her tears out for today, but she couldn’t stem the flow.

“Harry, he- he broke it off,” she repeated, voice wobbling. “Something about it being too dangerous, something stupid…”

“Oh, Ginny.” Hermione stood and sat beside Ginny, pulling her into a comforting hug.

“I s-s-said I didn’t c-care,” she hiccupped, “but he told me it couldn’t work. B-b-but I don’t care, Hermione, I think I love him – as a friend or as a boyfriend, it doesn’t matter, b-but I love and care for him and d-d-don’t want to let him go!”

She was babbling, and she could hardly believe that she had just made that statement, but it had just slipped out. And what did it matter, anyway, since Harry had already put a stop to their relationship? She pulled away from Hermione, dashed the tears from her eyes, and inhaled deeply to get her breath back under control. “If I just knew what he’ll be doing next year to hunt Voldemort down, I wouldn’t worry so much….” Ginny met her friend’s gaze with an expectant look.

Hermione’s expression was inscrutable as she gently replied, “Ginny – I can’t.”

“But – you and Ron know! I was Harry’s girlfriend, Hermione, and before that I was his friend! You think he wouldn’t trust me?”

“It’s not just because we promised Harry. We swore to Dumbledore that we wouldn’t say anything.”

Ginny stared at her friend as a sudden realization clicked into place. “You’re going with Harry!” she cried.

“Yes. And I promise you, Ginny, Ron and I will do everything in our power to keep him safe. There’s a way for this war to end – we just don’t know how long it will take.”

Hermione stood and continued to gather up her last few belongings as Ginny made her way over to the window. The view was, like any in Gryffindor Tower, magnificent. The sun shone warmly over the grounds, heralding summer and belying the sadness that pervaded the school – a sadness that had been increased tenfold in Ginny’s heart.

Was it really only a few days before that she and Harry had spent an afternoon by the lake, just talking and holding each other so happily? How had the world managed to change so completely in those last few days? It’s been like something out of someone else’s life, he had said to her just hours before. Someone else – someone like Michael or Dean, perhaps, someone who didn’t have the most powerful Dark wizard in centuries after him. But she didn’t want someone else; she wanted to be with Harry.

Her schoolgirl crush had never really faded, though it had evolved into something deeper. Perhaps this was why she felt this breakup more deeply than those with Michael or Dean, even though she had dated each of them for a longer period of time. Her relationship with Harry had been far too short, that much was clear. It was by far the shortest relationship she had had, but she was more than sure that it had been the most meaningful – to her, at least. Ginny hoped that Harry felt the same way. They had been together so briefly, though, that she knew it was simply impossible that they had effected a change in anyone else’s life simply by being together. Why, even with Harry’s celebrity-like status, it was self-centered of her to think that.

In her mind, Harry was the only one for her. His stubbornness and nobility – the very reasons he had broken up with her in the first place – made her love him even more. And she was sure, based on his words from earlier, that he had not wanted to break things off. We could have had months, or even years.

A lock clicked shut; Hermione had finished her packing and was looking at Ginny expectantly. And as Ginny followed Hermione out the door, she knew that this was the thought that would sustain her while Harry was away fighting Voldemort: Perhaps, if this war was ever over, Harry and Ginny could have those months and years – perhaps even a lifetime together.