Chapter Text
The summer after her first year at Hogwarts, Ginny’s family invited Harry to go to Egypt with them.
Harry caught her alone early in the trip after she’d hurriedly excused herself from dinner, on the verge of tears, the shadow of Riddle hitting her especially hard that evening. He asked if she wanted to talk about the Chamber. Ginny shook her head, afraid of what would happen if she spoke. Harry nodded.
“Well, what would you prefer? We can absolutely sit here in silence, not a problem, or I could change the subject, I could leave you alone, or… I could find, I dunno, a bag of potatoes or something for you to punch… whatever would help you feel better.”
Ginny couldn’t bring herself to answer.
“Okay,” Harry said, sounding a little embarrassed. “I’m going to assume that means you’d like to be left alone.”
But her hand shot out and caught his arm. She couldn’t stand to speak or look at anybody right now, but she wanted him to stay.
Harry sat next to her, and a warmth seemed to spread throughout her body, numbing the pain ever so slightly. Ginny was especially glad he hadn’t gone in to hug her. Her mind was racing and could only handle so much.
Ginny didn’t even realize she’d kept a hold of his hand. She was still very fond of him, but it wasn’t a romantic instinct. In truth, it was an anchor, something she was clinging to for dear life, grounding herself.
But it wasn’t enough. The flashes kept coming. The places she’d found herself, the blood, the diary, Riddle, the snake. She couldn’t think straight—she wasn’t getting enough air—she tried gasping in more through her mouth—but it still wasn’t enough—Harry was looking at her—and her breath was getting faster—more ragged—she was becoming possessed again—she was dying.
“Help me,” she managed to choke out to Harry. She meant for him to get her parents, or anybody allowed to perform magic, get her more air, cure whatever was blocking her windpipe.
“Okay,” Harry said, his voice oddly calm. “What are five things you see?”
Ginny looked at him, the terror rising higher within her—she was going to die!
“Trust me.”
“I…” She gulped. “I see the sunset… the pyramids… the river… sand… clouds.”
“Great. Try to slow your breathing, but it’s okay if you can’t. What are four things you can feel?”
“Your hand…” She gave a choked laugh. “Myself blushing… a tear… a breeze.”
“What are three things you can hear?”
“My family… the river… a bird.”
“Your breathing is slowing. What are two things you can smell?”
“Dinner…” She smiled despite herself. “The Muggle deodorant you wear—that I like!” she added, seeing the look on his face. He grinned.
“What’s something you can taste?”
“That one bite of food I got down before I had to come out here.”
She wasn’t going to die.
“Do you feel better?” Harry asked. She nodded, taking deep, steadying breaths.
“Do you want talking, silence, potatoes, or being alone?”
Ginny thought for a moment.
“Can we just sit here?”
Harry sat there with her for an entire hour in silence, never looking bored or trying to force her into conversation, just staring out over the desert horizon, with the pyramids off to the side. Near the end of the hour, she felt ready for conversation again. Then she yearned for it.
“Do you... like Quidditch?” she asked before cringing. Of course he liked Quidditch.
“Yeah, I do,” Harry said, squeezing her hand. He didn’t comment on Ginny scrunching up her face in embarrassment. “It’s the first time I’ve felt truly good at something. And, I wish I could say it was earned with practice, but it just feels natural, and that’s a good feeling, too, I guess… Do you like flying?”
“I love flying,” Ginny told him. “I’ve never felt as free.” Harry nodded, understanding. Then, realizing he might bring this up in front of the others, “But you can’t tell my siblings!”
Harry looked at her curiously. She wished she’d stop blushing. She looked at her shoes, dangling from the balcony as she spoke, determined not to look at him. “I’ve been stealing their brooms from our shed since I was six and taking it in turns to practice on them.”
She half expected him not to believe her.
“That’s amazing!” She looked up to find Harry smiling broadly. “And they’ve never caught you?” She shook her head, smiling despite herself. “You must be really good by now. Are you going to join the Quidditch team?”
“If they let me.” To her horror, she couldn’t think of anything else to add to the conversation. Internally, she cringed again.
“I bet they will,” Harry said, returning to the horizon, “if you’re half as good at Quidditch as you are at sneaking around. Stealing from Fred and George? That’s like outclassing Dumbledore at magic or something.” He shook his head and continued to look out over the desert.
“How did you know what to do just now?” she asked before she could stop herself.
“I only had one good teacher before Hogwarts,” Harry told her, staring at the pyramids. “My cousin, Dudley, and his friends would always come after me; at home, he’d always go after me, and no matter how hard I tried, I could never stop my aunt and uncle from getting mad at me all the time, every day. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t sleep. I was always on edge, waiting for the next explosion. Trying to anticipate whichever course would bring me the least amount of pain.
“My teacher had my back. She let me stay in class with her during free periods and lunch. Dudley and his friends couldn’t get at me, so I’d have at least some moments of not needing to be on guard. I’d get overwhelmed. She’d help me calm down. It meant the world to me.”
Ginny didn’t know what to say to that. Her chest was aching. She wanted to make him feel better.
“What’s your favorite Quidditch team?” he asked her suddenly.
“The Holyhead Harpies!” Ginny said at once, lighting up. “What’s yours?”
Harry grinned. “Don’t have one. I asked, but I don’t know a thing about professional Quidditch teams. I don’t even know where I’d start trying to pick a favorite.” He looked at her. “What are the basics? What do I need to know about the best teams in order to choose?”
And they were off, with Ginny excitedly breaking down all her favorite Quidditch teams for Harry, giving the reasons for and against favoring every team, and telling him the entire history of the Holyhead Harpies.
She told him how their first draft consisted of all female players who’d been rejected from professional Quidditch teams, back when there had never been a female Quidditch player. So, they’d formed their own team. In their first few years, they couldn’t win a single game, and so many of the men they were up against were so furious about women playing that the Harpies would often have several players injured after every game. Then, they learned to play smarter than many of the men, faster, and with more agility.
And then they won their first game in their fourth season, only to become first in the league for the British and Irish Cup and the European Cup that year. Since then, people completely changed the way they played the game, with dozens of the male teams copying their moves, and, a few years after the first Harpy victory, when they’d been on a winning streak ever since, other teams started bringing on female players as seekers and chasers because they were better built to counter the Harpies’ moves.
They finally lost a game to a team that’d brought in three female players. Since then, they’d never replicated their initial winning steak, but they were just as good as any of the top teams, winning the League Cup more than a few times since then. Now, they were not made out of the best of the best female players anymore, as many wanted to play for the home team they’d grown up rooting for, so the Harpies only rarely had a roster quite as good as the first one that won it all.
When she was done sharing everything she could think of, Ginny realized she was no longer blushing. The instant this occurred to her, she felt herself grow red again and wondered why she’d had to go and prattle on for so long without letting him talk.
“I guess the Harpies are my favorite then,” Harry told her. She gave him a look and he put his hand up, his other hand still in hers, posed like he was swearing an oath in court. “I’m not lying to make you feel good! I like a good underdog story.”
She smiled.
“And, also, everything I know about Quidditch teams came from a biased source, so…”
In the back of her mind, Ginny knew the darkness was still there. But it was more like a faint shadow now. And the load weighing down on her felt like one she could bear.
***
Ginny had only ever had a crush on the concept of Harry Potter until the Chamber of Secrets.
When she read books about The Boy Who Lived (or even as far back as when her parents read them to her), it had been hard to picture him as a baby, not a gallant knight striking down Lord Voldemort.
She couldn’t have known the boy asking her mother for directions was the same person she’d read about, but she still felt her heart flutter slightly when they met. Despite how lost he looked, he was so polite to her mother, and earnest. When she heard he was The Harry Potter, she begged her mother to let her go and look. And suddenly, in her head, she made the boy on the platform far more handsome and chivalrous.
When Ron wrote home telling them he was best friends with the legendary figure, Ginny was beside herself with excitement. She would undoubtedly meet her hero now. And she pestered Ron for every detail of his adventures with Harry, falling more and more for the mythical version of him in her head.
But when she came down to breakfast one day, chipper as ever, to find him sitting at the table with her siblings, her brain entered total panic mode. She didn’t know what she’d expected to happen when they met, but she certainly didn’t count on her body sprinting up the stairs again of its own accord. Humiliated by her reaction, she only made it worse when she tried to sneak a peek at him, as he passed, and he spotted her.
From then on, Ginny couldn’t move past her embarrassment from their first encounter. She couldn’t seem to control herself. Words got jumbled in her mouth, and she could barely speak, so she kept quiet most of the time. Her hands and feet suddenly became uncoordinated and clumsy. And she couldn’t stop her face from becoming as red as a tomato every time he entered a room. Any and all hope of winning the affection of her lifelong crush seemed dashed.
Most infuriating of all was how confident and coordinated she felt when she was alone in her element. She began to steal her siblings’ brooms and fly about the burrow at night more frequently than ever, just to feel like her old self again, not constantly anxious about what Harry thought of her. She was glad she had the outlet of flying. It was the first thing she’d ever felt good at.
There were small moments of hope before her first year: when he kindly asked if she was going to Hogwarts, when he gifted her all of his Lockhart textbooks, and the look of surprise he gave her when she somehow stole herself to stand up to Malfoy.
For a moment, the diary she found among her books gave her a bit of hope, offering her a way to vent and providing words of encouragement. Then, the blackouts started. And the attacks.
When she finally realized what was happening and got rid of the diary, Ginny felt more courageous than ever. So much so that she wrote Harry that ridiculous Valentine, thinking it was poetic gold at the time, until she heard it read aloud. Even more horrifying, though, was seeing Harry with the diary.
Gallant, charming, courageous Potter was just a deity she’d made up in her head, and nothing he’d said or done all year could shatter that illusion.
Then she met Riddle. Then, she was dragged to the Chamber of Secrets. Then she woke up to find Riddle gone, the diary destroyed, the Basilisk dead, and her hero, staring down at her, a white-faced boy, looking more terrified than she’d seen anyone look in her life. At that moment—as she saw the tears in his eyes, the twitch of his mouth holding back a sob, and the look of relief on his face when he realized she was okay—Ginny finally saw him as a person. And worshipping infatuation gave way to something else entirely.
They held each other then, sobbing into each other’s robes. Two traumatized children who should not have had to go through what they’d just been through. At the beginning of the year, her heart would have soared at having Harry hold her so tightly. Now, she was relieved to be alive, thankful he was there, grateful he understood what she’d been through, and filled with affection for him, but her heart didn’t soar. It felt weighed down and weary from all she had experienced that year. She was too sad to feel weak at the knees.
She could not say how long they held each other in the Chamber before, without words, they silently agreed to make their way back to the others. They were both weakened from their encounters with Riddle and continued holding each other for support as they staggered out of the Chamber. Harry whispered words of encouragement the entire journey back, assuring her he would not tell a soul what she’d done and that, if they somehow knew, if they tried to expel her, he’d teach her everything he knew about magic, share every note, and learn how to make her a new wand.
Ginny highly doubted he’d go through all that trouble for her and figured he was only saying all that to make her feel better.
“No, you won’t,” was all she was able to say. She thought she sounded pouty, like an insolent child, but she didn’t want to be lied to anymore. Not after a year of Riddle lying to her.
“You’re my best friend’s little sister. We spent the summer together,” Harry told her. “And, if I hadn’t given you those textbooks, if I had looked out for you, gone after you in the Great Hall, hid the diary better, you wouldn’t be here.”
His voice cracked at the end. She could feel him shaking with shame.
“Well… if you hadn’t given me those textbooks, someone else would be down here, or I’d have ended up with the diary some other way,” she said. “And most people would think four older siblings at school would be enough to look after me. And Percy told you they knew what I’d wanted to say.”
They shuffled along in silence for a while after that.
“I know you think I was just blowing smoke earlier,” Harry said finally. “But… Hogwarts means the world to me. It’s everything to me. If it means a fraction of that amount to you… If I were expelled, I’d want someone to have my back like that. I couldn’t live with myself knowing Riddle got to take all of it away from you. You were so excited to come here last summer.”
Harry winced then. His words had made her cry again as she, too, thought back to last summer and the anticipation she’d felt. But she was grateful for his words nonetheless.
The rest of their journey passed in a blur for her after they found Ron. Ginny sobbed joyfully and hugged her brother, but she did not part from Harry. Harry squeezed her shoulder when Ron tried to interrogate them about how she’d ended up in Riddle’s clutches, and Harry refused to answer point blank. He squeezed her again when they found out what happened to Lockhart. Again, as he held onto her at the bottom in the chain of people clinging onto Fawkes, rising from the caste’s depths. And again, as they entered Dumbledore’s office to find McGonagall, her parents, and the headmaster assembled in the room.
Even as she cried out and reached for her parents, she still did not want to let Harry go. He must have felt her reluctance to part because he kept his hand firmly in hers even as her parents embraced her.
True to his word, Harry never let on that Ginny was in any way responsible for the attacks. Instead, making it sound as if the memory of Riddle had done it all himself, taking corporeal form from the diary, and it was only when the Dark Lord sought to lure Harry into the Chamber that he finally took possession of her. Dumbledore saw right through this, but Ginny was grateful all the same for Harry’s efforts. Harry, for his part, did not even bat an eye when Dumbledore saw through his deception.
When Dumbledore suggested that Ginny go down to see Madame Pomfrey, Harry moved as if to join her without hesitating. When Dumbledore called out to him, Harry turned with a fire in his eyes, as if to argue with the headmaster, until it became Ginny’s turn and, with a tiny bit of pressure from her hand to his, she let him know she would be okay.
He looked at her and understood.
Harry came down to see her almost immediately after speaking with Dumbledore. Tired, bloodstained, in tattered robes, he still smiled when he saw her. He walked over, pulled up a chair, sat opposite her parents, and held her hand. She had barely spoken to her parents since arriving in the hospital wing. And neither she nor Harry spoke much after he arrived. When her parents told her they intended to spend the night, she told them, not unkindly, that she would be alright. They could go to bed.
Harry, however, remained, and she could not find it in herself to tell him she would be alright without him. Because she knew she did not feel alright. Even if she didn’t actually need him there, she felt like she did. And a part of her wondered if he needed this. To reassure himself that he had not failed.
They fell asleep with her hand in his. Then she awoke in the night, crying, having dreamt of Riddle and the great vicious serpent. Harry, seeming not to know what else to do, sat on her bed, with his back against the wall, and let her rest her head on his lap until she could calm down.
She hadn’t intended to make him stay that way all night, but she fell asleep before she could move from his lap.
They woke up that way, with Ginny clutching Harry's arms wrapped around her. For one excruciating moment, neither of them knew how to address the day before. Luckily, Madame Pomfrey came bustling out, causing Harry to hastily scramble out of her bed and grin sheepishly at Ginny as Pomfrey fussed over them.
After she left, Harry produced a game of exploding snap from his cloak, revealing he had made at least one stop before coming to see her. Soon, the pair of them were playing cards against one another and chatting, as if they hadn’t just faced certain death.
Evert night, she dreamt of the Chamber and Riddle whispering in her ear.
Still, The next few days were the happiest of Ginny’s time at Hogwarts thus far. Harry took his meals with her, visited her with Ron regularly, and brought her books and games to keep her entertained. Ginny found it cute, watching him try to figure out the rules to wizarding board games and cards, and Ginny could not stop giggling when Harry presented her with a game made for three-year-olds, stating it might be too complicated for students.
When Madam Pomfrey revived those whom the Basilisk petrified, Harry skipped the start of the end-of-term feast to remain by Ginny’s side and hold her hand as she struggled to contain her guilt, tears streaming down her face.
Eventually, she found herself burying her face in his chest as she cried. He kissed her forehead, and she pressed against him even more.
When Madam Pomfrey finally let her out of the hospital wing, Harry actually brought her flowers, looking just as embarrassed as she had felt when she’d sent him her valentine. Ginny knew her face turned absolute scarlet, but she didn’t care as she beamed at him. Then, wanting to let him know he didn’t need to be embarrassed, something thrilling happened.
It felt like the inverse of possession. As if her body was being compelled to move by some exhilarating force, instead of the sinister presence of Riddle. As if the desire to keep him from feeling shame brought her courage. Ginny was able to steel herself to give him a swift kiss on the cheek, feeling like a true Gryffindor in that moment.
Immediately, doubt crept in, and she was just beginning to regret her actions—when she looked up and saw Harry was grinning. They embraced, and all her doubts melted away.
Harry and Hermione rode the train back from Hogwarts with the Weasleys, Harry sitting by Ginny’s side and roaring with laughter when she finally revealed that Percy had a girlfriend. And when they went their separate ways, Harry wrote to her just as often as Ron to ensure she was okay.
That summer, it was hard for Ginny to go back to the way things were with her family. Every rustle about the house felt like Riddle whispering in her ear. Every shadow felt like his presence seeping from the diary. Every forgotten moment was like she was being possessed all over again. Every night, she dreamt of the Chamber.
Ginny felt a dead weight inside, sucking the joy out of things that had once made her happy. Food didn’t hold any appeal. She dreaded going to bed, but getting up in the mornings felt impossible. Smiling felt like a strain on her muscles. She felt dumber than before, less able to remember things or make rational decisions. And, most of the time, she just couldn’t think of anything to say to the people around her.
Her family did their best. There were brief moments when an act of kindness from her parents or siblings would shine through the darkness that seemed to be engulfing her mind, but overall, Ginny’s mental health was spiraling.
It was Ginny who suggested the Weasleys include Harry in their family trip to Egypt. At first, her parents were hesitant. To bring him would mean they’d have nothing of the prize money to spare after the trip. Luckily, Ron, kicking himself for not suggesting it first, rushed to Ginny’s aid and argued furiously for Harry’s inclusion, pointing out that the whole family owed him for saving Ginny.
In the days leading up to the trip, Ginny was gripped with worry that she would revert to her old shy self around Harry after only a few weeks apart or that he’d spend the entire trip by Ron’s side, never sparing a thought for her. But even though she did find herself blushing crimson upon seeing him again, forgetting how normal humans held conversation, and suddenly very uncoordinated of her hands and feet, Ron once again stepped up for her.
“Don’t thank me, mate,” he told Harry almost immediately. “I should have been the one to do it, but it was Ginny who thought to invite you. Without her, I would have left you to the Dursleys like a prat.”
Harry beamed at her, thanked her, gave her a hug in greeting, and, under cover of her hair so her family wouldn’t see, swiftly returned her kiss on the cheek. The force weighing down on her suddenly became a little lighter.
Harry and Ron did not stay glued at the hip. They spent the most time together as best friends would, but Harry spent almost as much time with Ginny, alone, with Ron, or accompanied by the whole Weasley crew.
***
After their talk in Egypt, he wasn’t Harry Potter, the legend anymore. He was Harry, who’d saved her from the Chamber and shown up for her every day since. Her crush on the concept of Harry had been nothing compared to this. She was absolutely smitten
Since then, Harry and Ginny had an outstanding arrangement that they could count on each other any time either of them needed someone to sit silently with them, talk at them, talk with them—about the Chamber or about anything but—or, once or twice, punch a bag of potatoes, just to say that they had. Meanwhile, Ginny and Ron did everything they could to make Harry feel like he was one of the Weasleys.
The entire family seemed to rise to the occasion, trying to undo some of the damage done by the years of neglect and abuse with the Dursleys. Ginny’s mother constantly prioritized Harry’s nourishment and comfort. Ginny’s father asked him questions about the Muggle world and, while she knew he was not feigning ignorance, Ginny noticed he made an extra effort to convey that Harry’s answers were valuable to Arthur, that he found Harry to be worthwhile, and that Mr. Weasley was glad Harry was there with them.
The twins, always happy to perform in front of an audience, always upped their game around Harry, almost as if it gave them additional pride to bring a smile to someone who’d spent so much of their life unhappy.
Bill would regale Harry with tales of his days in Hogwarts and ask Harry about his own adventures, listening attentively.
Charlie was delighted when Harry showed an interest in dragons and bombarded him with everything Charlie knew and the status of Norberta.
Pompous and awkward, Percy still found ways to bond with Harry, having always been there to answer his questions about the wizarding world at Hogwarts. Ginny noticed Harry felt the most comfortable going to Percy when he didn’t know something that was common knowledge to most wizards.
By the time the trip ended and they made their way to the leaky cauldron, Harry felt like part of the family.
He was the only person Ginny told about her nightmares.