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Ginny didn't understand what was happening.
She'd just — Ever since Harry had told them about what had happened with Malfoy, with the old Potions book, it had kept bothering her, twisting her insides with dread. She'd thought about her first year, about losing periods of time and emerging only to hear that someone had been attacked — someone she'd earlier complained about in the diary.
Looking at Harry's face intently after he was done — the defensiveness, the evasiveness, the near obsession — Ginny had had the sinking, odious feeling that she was looking into a mirror of herself from that year.
That was what made her short with Hermione. That was what made her brood all the way until the Quidditch match, until she finally kicked off the ground and rose up, up, up — every worry and fear insignificant in the sky.
It was the euphoria of that win that gave her the courage to confront Harry. To tell him that he shouldn't be making friends with or getting attached to inanimate objects, least of all books he didn't even know the origin of.
She paced restlessly as she waited, the others celebrating loudly around her. As soon as Harry stepped into the common room, Ginny set towards him, determined. But before she could say or do anything, Harry scooped her up and kissed her — in front of everyone.
There was silence. Ringing in her ears.
Ginny stood there, confused, unsure of what she should do. She thought — nonsensical things. The match. Ron doing brilliantly, like he always did when Harry wasn't there, or it was just the two of them. Grinning at him exuberantly every time she flew past, shouting encouragement over the wind, and Ron grinning back, exhilarated after each save. It had almost felt like being back at the Burrow, flying with Bill's and Charlie's old brooms in the wild field out back. She thought of catching the Snitch. Of Ron being the first to fly over to her, arms flung around her in a wild hug, smelling of sweat and wind and leather and home.
She heard a glass shatter, and for a single horrifying moment, she thought —
Ginny wanted to look, but Harry wasn't letting go.
And when he finally did let her go, Ginny stared right at his face — searching, questioning — and realised he wasn't even looking at her. His arms were still around her, but she might as well not have been there for all the attention he gave her. His gaze swept over the room, something dark and almost self-satisfied in his expression. Ginny followed his eyes, saw Dean with a shattered glass in his hand, and her insides trembled with vague relief. Then Harry's gaze found Ron — and Ginny caught the exact moment Ron nodded.
Suddenly, she felt cold. Like that time she'd felt her life ebbing away in that chamber beneath the school, alone.
She stared at Ron while Ron studiously avoided her eyes.
And when Harry placed a proprietary hand on the small of her back and led her out of the common room, Ginny followed him numbly.
It was, apparently, what her brother wanted.