Two Nights in the Garden

Chapter 1

The First Night

Ginny stood on the front porch of the Burrow letting the warm night air press in on her from all sides. She was thankful for the slight breeze that ruffled her hair and tickled her feet because otherwise it would have been unbearable outside. Even with the breeze, her face still glistened slightly from the warmth of a summer's night in Ottery St. Catchpole.

The faded wood railing was rough on her hands as she held it tightly, stepping carefully onto the lowest rail and leaning out to see the last bit of a deep red sunset. In a faraway corner of her mind, it reminded her of times she'd spent with Harry, but that didn't matter now. None of it did. She had to block him from her thoughts, otherwise she wouldn't survive this… this slow death. It was the only phrase she could come up with that seemed at all fitting.

In many ways she had already conquered some of her unruly feelings. At first she had cried, tucked away in her room and all alone, and then she had just gotten angry. Her mother had unfortunately borne the brunt of her attacks, though with the heart of a saint Ginny later came to realize. Sometimes, during her worst days, she had even volunteered to help rid the overgrown garden of gnomes. It gave her time to release her anger in a way that didn't risk damage to the house or the feelings of those in it.

Now, though, she had managed to move past those days and into the next phase of her plan – beginning to forget parts of him. She had started with his hands, trying to forget the way they held her so tight and how they moved over her body when he was kissing her with such passion. She tried to forget how rough they always felt from so many Quidditch practices and so much time spent on a broom. She spent a week trying to forget his hands before finally deciding to move on to something easier. She hadn't come up with what that was yet, and that was why she was outside by herself this evening, watching the red light of dusk turn to the deep blue of night.

She sat down in one of the rickety old rocking chairs to close her eyes and find some part of Harry to forget.

Upstairs, in the cramped hallway outside Ginny's bedroom, Ron reached out his hand to knock quietly on her door. The warmth of the hallway wasn't any better than the air outside and he hoped he could keep this talk quick and get back upstairs to his own, somewhat cooler room.

At the first quiet thump of his knuckles on the hollow wood, the door squeaked open a few inches, allowing a soft movement of air from within carrying the faint smell of flowers. Never being quite the type for knocking anyway, he pushed the door all the way open and peered into the darkened room.

“Ginny?” he said hesitantly.

Outside on the porch, Ginny turned her eyes toward a few dark shapes creeping back into the garden. She smiled at the gnomes' persistence and continued to watch as they slowly made their way into their dirty holes.

A few minutes later Ron looked out through the battered screen door, in some small way wishing she wasn't actually out there so he wouldn't have to go through with this. Taking a deep breath, he pushed open the door, cringing as it creaked to announce his presence.

Without so much as a movement, she spoke.

“Hi, Ron,” she said quietly.

There wasn't a single feeling in those two words, and it hurt his heart to hear her so numb. He stepped out from the door to lean against the post by the steps. Facing out into the wildness of what would normally have been the lawn, he wondered sadly when they might have time to care for it again. Shifting his big feet slightly, he turned toward his little sister, watching her sitting with her legs pulled up in the chair in front of her, picking idly at a hole in her pajamas. He moved to sit on the old wood rail, looking out at what was left of the sunset and occasionally glancing back at her.

She continued to look away, alternating her eyes from the idle work of her fingers to the stone wall of the garden. Ron knew she wasn't really looking at anything, just trying to avoid his gaze. He thought of times past when they had been such close friends, before school, before Harry.

“I'm sorry,” he said softly.

She lifted her head to look at him and he was saddened by the look in her eyes. They used to shine so bright…

She continued to look at him for several moments before turning away again.

“Why?” she asked.

“Because… because I haven't been… well, I haven't been a good brother to you.” He glanced out across the deeps weeds again and then slid off the railing, turning to put his hands on it. He was thoughtful for a while, not surprised that she hadn't said any more. He knew he hadn't been the brother, or the friend, that he could have been. There were so many time, countless times, over the years at school when he had brushed her aside, unaware of how his disinterest had hurt her.

It had finally hit home with him this summer. He watched her more carefully than she knew, and though certain female friends of his might disagree, his sense of her feelings was sharper than ever. She was hurting, the deep hurt of being cast aside by someone she thought she could trust. He finally made the connection to his own actions, past and present, and decided he had to talk to her. He had to try to apologize, and that was why he was here now.

“C'mon,” he said, turning to her and offering his hand.

There was a flash of something in her eyes that reminded him of when she was a little girl. They had truly been the best of friends and he had always watched out for her. Her trust in him had been absolute, and as she reached out and took his hand he thought he saw that trust again, but the next moment it was gone. It was replaced by the shroud of emptiness that she had cast over herself just after Dumbledore's funeral.

He led her carefully across the porch, making sure to point out a loose nail so she wouldn't step on it. Hand-in-hand they walked into the garden. He couldn't help but notice how different she was now compared to the little girl in his memories. She had grown up so much. He sadly realized that her face no longer held the innocence of childhood. It was now the face of someone with intimate knowledge of the uncertainty of the world and the pain of evil. He also couldn't help but acknowledge that the mature girl next to him was as beautiful as an angel.

He stopped for a moment, taking both her hands and holding her out at arm's length, trying to capture a picture of this moment in his memory. It was hard to tell how many more moments like this they might have. He also made a mental note to tell his mum how proud he was of the girl she had raised.

She looked up at him questioningly as he stood gazing at her, apparently deep in thought. Then, without knowing why, she hugged him. She hugged him fiercely, as if he might disappear the moment she let go. Two tears ran down her face and she buried them in his shoulder.

Ron closed his eyes, trying to keep his own emotions under control and when she finally pulled away, he touched the wet spot on his shirt gently, as if it were still a part of her.

“You might consider taking a shower now and then, Ron,” she laughed quietly behind her tears. They stood for a moment before she turned, taking his hand in hers and swinging it slightly as they started to walk again.

“I'm perfectly clean,” he said in mock offense, pulling his hand out of hers and turning his face away.

It wasn't for naught that she had learned from having six older brothers and when she turned to face him, her bottom lip pouted just slightly and her eyes were pathetically wide and sad.

He glanced askew at her and turned away again to hide his grin. He could only last so long against her impressive defenses, and soon he turned to her with all pretense of hurt gone.

They sat down on a cool stone bench in the thickest of the wild weeds. This secluded part of the garden had always been a favorite of Ginny's and he was well aware of it. He was happy that she wanted to come here.

“Ginny, about what I meant earlier,” he began, but she cut him off.

“It's okay, I know what you meant. You want to try to protect me from the world, but I'm not a little girl anymore. You, of all people, should know that, Ron.”

“I do know that.” He kicked at the ground with the tip of his shoe, sending up small clouds of dust. “I wasn't trying to say… What I mean is that I should have tried harder. I should have included you in what we were doing. I shouldn't have pushed you aside all those years. I'm sorry. All along I thought you were too young to handle it, but now…”

He turned to look at her. “Now I know that's not true. If I'd just paid closer attention in your first year, we could have avoided so much trouble. And there were so many other times since then… I'm so sorry, Ginny.”

They sat in silence for a while. Ron was lost in his thoughts, and Ginny was still trying to rid something unknown from her thoughts. It clawed at the corner of her mind, itching to get out, and she just couldn't let it. It was hope and fear and pain, and if it got out it could destroy her.

After a few minutes, she felt his gaze on her again. There was something in his posture that put her on edge and she immediately brought all of her excuses to the tip of her tongue, readying them like tensed arrows.

“Er, listen, Ginny,” he began quite awkwardly, “I know it's not my place really, but I see what you're going through, and – “

She cut him off with a jerk of her hand and a deathly glare.

“Don't, Ron,” she growled. “Don't even say you know what I'm going through, because you don't.” She crossed her arms and turned away from him.

“Ginny! I wasn't… I didn't… “ He stopped and closed his mouth, turning away in anger.

The only sound in the garden now was the swish of the wind through the tall grass, and the quiet rustling of the leaves as they were touched by the invisible hand of mother nature. Ginny closed her eyes and felt her hair brush gently against her face, while Ron ran his hand compulsively up and down the rough edge of the seat.

“That's not true,” he said finally, his voice breaking with his words. “I do… I do know how you feel.”

Ginny unconsciously relaxed a little and turned to face him again, putting one hand on his shoulder.

“Hermione?” she asked gently.

He shrugged her hand off and even though he hadn't turned toward her, the slump of his shoulders told her she was right.

“How is she?” she asked, hoping that the innocent question might open the door for him to share more of his feelings – something he did almost as rarely has Harry.

“How should I know?” he said crossly. “After Harry got to his uncle's house, he wrote to say we shouldn't come and that he would see us before the wedding. Hermione sent me a letter saying she thought we should still go. I sent one back saying we shouldn't and that it might just make things worse for Harry. Then… then I didn't hear back from her again.”

Ginny was suddenly wild with questions about why they hadn't told her they were supposed to go visity Harry, but with great force she held herself back.

“How… how did you say it? Were you nice, or were you… you?”

He turned to glare at her. “It's not my fault if she gets upset because Harry doesn't want us to come. I'm just trying to do what's right for him, and if she can't – “

“I know, Ron, I know,” she said, trying to keep him calm. At least they weren't talking about Harry anymore… or rather she and Harry.

“Did he say when he was coming?” She couldn't help herself from asking.

He turned to look at her, scrutinizing her features and searching for her feelings. She turned back to stone and for a moment thought she was successful, and then he smiled a little.

“He said he was coming two days before the wedding. So, tomorrow.”

“Oh,” she answered.

The darkness began to close in on them, and when Ginny looked around, she found it was getting difficult to see properly. She bend down and fiddled with something on the ground for a minute. To Ron's surprise, when she sat back up, a small fire was burning between them in the dirt. He couldn't help but be impressed.

“Where'd you learn to do that?” he asked in awe.

She grinned at him. “Hermione taught me.”

The look on his face was priceless. Such a range of emotions in such a short time she'd never seen on him, and it took a great deal of control to hold back her laughter.

“You should talk to her about… things. You two are meant to be together, you know.”

“And you two aren't?” he asked softly, but pointedly.

“That's different,” she said, bowing her head. “He's got things to do, and if he doesn't want me around, then I won't be.”

The pain of compassion he felt for her just then was something he'd never felt so strongly before. He stood from their shared seat and moved around in front of her, taking her hands and pulling her down to sit in front of him.

“Harry's a four-star arse for doing this to you,” he said rather strongly. She looked up surprised. It was a rare occurrence when Ron was angry enough with Harry to say it out loud. Not since his fourth year could she truly remember him saying anything bad about his friend.

“Well,” she began, “I know he's got important things to do. The whole saving-the-world thing may be a bit melodramatic, but it's real. I don't know exactly what happened this year, but I know he's never been so determined, ever.” She swiped a wet spot from her eye and continued. “I know his part in this is important, but I can't bear the thought of losing – . It's just that… well… I feel so strongly for him…“

“You love him,” Ron said.

She nodded and broke down in tears again. Ron looked down at her, his heart welling up with emotion at her broken form. Then and there he vowed to have a few words with Harry. His sister might be strong, but Harry had crossed the line this time.

“Hey, Sis,” he said, “I know it's not much, but you've always got me. I promise I'll start being your big brother again, and I'll take care of you, even if Harry is acting like a prat.”

She looked up and the corners of her mouth twitched.

“Thanks,” she mouthed.

They sat quietly for some time, enjoying their renewed sibling friendship. Mostly they just sat with their arms around each other, leaning against the bench. There wasn't anything more to be said tonight. When they finally got up to walk back through the garden, Ginny turned to her brother, smiling a little wider.

“I guess you don't quite have the emotional range of a teaspoon anymore,” she giggled.

“Yeah,” he laughed, “but don't tell Hermione. I'd like to surprise her!”

“Ron,” she said and stopped walking, “promise me you'll at least try to talk to her. If Harry's coming tomorrow, then she won't be far behind, right?”

He nodded.

“Well, then, when she gets here find some time to be alone and then tell her how you feel. Just be honest. Everyone knows she feels the same way about you, except you. Don't you think you've waited long enough?”

He sighed deeply. “Okay, I'll talk to her. I'm going to have a little chat with Harry, too.”

The last part was muttered under his breath, but Ginny heard it anyway. She closed her eyes for a moment and put her stone face back on. It just wasn't worth getting her hopes up again, was it?

A/N – I wrote all four chapters in about three days while on a business trip (hey, I had to do something). This is mostly Harry/Ginny, but I'd like to know what you think of my Ron/Hermione since I don't write them very often.

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