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Don't You Care?
By Calixa

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Category: Post-OotP
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Fluff
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: G
Reviews: 16
Summary: It's near the end of summer and another year at Hogwarts is rolling around again. Some things from the past, however, should be finished now.
Hitcount: Story Total: 6473







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Don't You Care?

The summer after fifth year was a constant one. Day in and day out, Harry slept. Nothing had truly woken him all summer. He sat, or he lay down, and sometimes he was awake, but those moments of being awake were more like being in a dream than when he was actually dreaming. He would have gladly sat there alone all day, as he'd done for the past few weeks.

It had been a few hours since they'd got back to the Burrow, and like usual, he'd been sitting by himself in Ron's room. Everything was quiet for a while.

Then Harry heard the crash on the stair landing through the crack of the door, but even if it had been shut he would have heard it, and he most definitely felt the shaking of the ground. Momentarily, he was irritated at having been disturbed, until he heard the shriek of pain and the string of mild curses that followed. Despite his foul mood, he recognized the voice as belonging to Ginny Weasley and got up to investigate.

He saw her from where he stood, outside Ron's bedroom door from the top landing.

"Those idiots... leaving these things everywhere!" she was muttering, as she got off her knees and rubbed them. Packets lay sprawled all over the floor around her, and one of her books had rolled down a flight of stairs, looking quite worse for wear.

Harry approached, picking up some parchment that had rolled to rest by his foot. "Here, Ginny, I'll help."

Ginny looked up. "Oh, hi Harry. I didn't see you there."

"I was just in Ron's room," he replied, handing her the parchment. "Are you all right?"

She looked at him, the corners of her mouth twisting up wryly.

"Fine, just a little bruised up." she said, pulling from under her robes a long, rubbery pair of extendable ears. "Fred and George came for a visit last week. That's why we have more of these, Mum had confiscated all the ones we had before."

She rolled her eyes rather comically and Harry had to smile a bit. He knelt down and helped her gather some more of the scattered school things. Mrs. Weasley had taken him, Ron, Hermione and Ginny to Diagon Alley earlier that day to pick up the items on their Hogwarts lists.

"Thanks," said Ginny brightly, tucking a strand of her red hair behind her ear. "I would have brought everything up to my room earlier but Ron wanted to practise quidditch."

So that was what everyone was doing, thought Harry. He hadn't really noticed that he'd spent the entire afternoon alone until now.

"He's getting better, is he?"

"Yeah, loads. After winning the cup last year he's been pretty confident."

"Reckon he'll let any more goals go past this year?"

"Not a chance. Angelina was right not to let him go, he's got some skill."

Harry nodded, forgetting about his previously sulky mood. Quidditch was one of the few topics that made him feel better these days. "You're going to try out for chaser this year, right?"

Ginny's eyes lit up. "Yes - I hope I make it. We'll win that cup for sure, with you as seeker and Ron as keeper. I just hope I - oh drat!"

She broke off her cheerful sentence, a look of utter dismay on her face. Harry didn't understand what was wrong until she held up her second hand charms spellbook, half it's pages dripping in scarlet ink. Ginny gave an exasperated groan.

"I can't read these pages now! Mum's going to have a fit, we can't go back for another copy, we don't have the-" she bit her lip. A slight tink of pink touched her cheeks and she set the soaked book aside, away from the other books. "-time."

Harry looked down at the shabby transfiguration book in his hands, and not for the first time he felt a twinge of guilt. It wasn't his fault that the Weasley's were poor, but he always felt terrible when he thought aobut the amount of gold that lay in his vault, left behind by his parents.

"We'd better clean this up before mum sees," said Ginny, frowning at the broken bits of the ink bottle and the spreading puddle of red.

"Erm, I've got some old robes you can use to wipe this mess," said Harry, motioning with his hand towards Ron's room. "It's in my trunk, I'll go get them."

"Would you?" Ginny flashed him a grateful smile. "Thanks!"

"Sure, no problem."

He got up and quickly went into the room, shutting the door behind him. Harry pushed his sliding glasses up the bridge of his nose and crossed over to where his trunk lay by the foot of his bed. Above him, in her cage, Hedwig gave a small hoot of greeting, as though welcoming him back.

"Hullo Hedwig." He said softly, and returned his attention to the contents of the trunk. A bunch of faded, torn at the hem black robes lay on top of the newer, recently bought robes neatly folded and tucked away. Harry lifted the old ones out, setting them on the floor beside him. He'd placed them on top to throw out later, he might as well give them to Ginny and let them be useful for the last time.

Harry then carefully lifted his other possessions aside, including the slithery smooth folds of the invisibility cloak. He felt as stab of something similar to grief as he did so. He hadn't thought of Sirius for a few minutes, and the cloak that his father James and Sirius had once shared was a painful reminder to Harry that both of them were now gone. Harry swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat and rummaged around more. He set the sneakoscope that Ron had given him years ago onto his bed and found a stack of books.

Harry rifted through them and pulled one out. His old charms spellbook. He wouldn't be needing it anymore, and it was in fairly good condition, having been purchases new at the beginning of last september. It was in better shape than the one Ginny had, even without half the contents of an ink bottle spiled on it.

Harry put the other things away, back into the trunk and shut the lid. He covered the book in the fabric of the robes and went back into the hall, where Ginny seemed to be desperately backed against the far wall, a trickle of ink creeping dangerously towards her foot.

She was too preoccupied with keeping her other things safe from the ink taht she did not notice Harry dropping his charms book into the pile of books already at his feet.

"Watch your shoe," he warned her, tossing the robes onto the puddle. It stopped spreading and instead soaked itself into the fabric.

"Thanks," Ginny said fervently, gathering a bunch of quills. Then, getting up, she gave him a pleading look. "Er, Harry, do you mind taking some of this up to my room for me? I'm going to get rid of this soddy thing." She nudged the old robes with her toe.

"Um, yeah, sure." He replied awkwardly. Well, if Ginny didn't mind him in her room then he didn't mind much either... at least he didn't think he minded.

She bent down, picked up the wet robes, and bounded away, leaving him alone with a stack of parchment, quills, ink bottles and books. He was thankful she hadn't been in need of a cauldron.

Harry loaded as much as he could carry into his arms and clumsily turned into the tiny corridor that led to Ginny's room. He wasn't quite sure if he was going the right way (he'd never had reason to be in Ginny's room before) but there was only one door in the corridor, so Harry shrugged and entered the room.

It was semi-bright, lit by a dusty beam of afternoon sun. The ceiling was low, even though it didn't slope like Ron's room, and it was, if that was possible, even smaller and more cramped in here. The walls were painted a faintish yellow, and blue curtains dotted with small flowers hung drawn back over the only window in the corner. Ginny's bed lined the wall next to the window, with plain, worn, but neatly made up white covers. A small shelf ran along the wall above the bed at about Harry's shoulder-level.

Harry didn't know where to put the things in his arms down. Every surface seemed to be occupied. She had a desk, but it was already full of papers and quills and little shells. Finally Harry decided to just lay them down on the bed in a pile. He tried not to muss up the covers, and made sure that no ink would smear them.

He brushed off his hands and stood up, hitting his head on the shelf.

"Ouch." Harry muttered, as a picture frame fell off the ledge and crashed to the ground, narrowly missing his foot. Quickly, he retrieved, it, hoping that he hadn't broken the glass. Fortunately, it was still intact, though there was a tiny crack in it that Harry was slightly worried about. He didn't know if it had been there before.

His eyes wandered over the picture itself, being a wizard portrait, it featured moving figures. There was Ginny, sitting with boys and girls her age in the long black robes of Hogwarts students. Her friends, he thought, realising that she had more friends than he did, if this picture meant anything. There were at least ten people in the picture, all of them huddled close together and laughing. It had been taken in the Three Broomsticks, probably on one of the weekends after Valentine's day since he could glimpse the blue sky outside the window behind Ginny's red hair when she moved slightly to the left, giggling at something her friend had apparently just said.

Even Luna Lovegood was in the picture. She was sitting next to the happy group, looking just as cheerful and dreamy herself, still wearing the strange hat she'd been wearing the day Gryffindor had beaten Ravenclaw in their quidditch match and humming some tune under her breath.

Then he peered closer, and noticed a sulky boy standing nearby, glaring at Ginny's back. It took a moment for Harry to recognize him as Michael Corner, because he'd never seen Michael so sulky.

Michael wasn't the only sulky one in the picture. Cho was in there too, way in the back, sitting gloomily by herself.

The door suddenly yanked open, and Ginny trundled in, carrying the last of the books.

"That's everything!" She said cheerfully, tossing them directly on the floor where she stood.

Harry jumped a bit. He felt his face heat up a tiny bit - after all, he was in Ginny's room, looking at her private possessions, and she had just walked in on him doing so. Even worse, she must have seen him staring at the photo, because it was still in his hands.

"Colin took that picture," she said, looking at it and smiling. "I remember we were all so happy that day, Gryffindor had just won a match."

Harry was relieved that she wasn't annoyed. "It's a nice picture," he offered lamely, knowing she was expecting him to say something.

Ginny laughed. "Taken right after I ditched Michael. He seemed more sulky than upset about it, you know. But he really was nice. When we were dating and all, he was really nice."

Harry didn't know what to say to that. He simply nodded, and Ginny continued on.

"Though you wouldn't have thought that today," she said, rolling her eyes. "I would have said hello, but Michael obviously didn't want to."

Harry remembered how he had seen Michael Corner walk past him, Ron and Ginny in Flourish and Blotts, throwing furtive, dirty looks at Harry and Ron (but mainly Harry) and completely ignoring Ginny's presence.

"How rude can you get?" muttered Ron angrily after Michael had stalked past. "Not even a hello, and you spent all that time last year teaching him, Harry."

Harry shrugged. He didn't particularly care if Michael Corner was rude to him, but he'd thought that Ron had forgotten something else. He had stolen a look out of the corner of his eye at Ginny, curiously, but she had seemed oblivious to what had happened.

"How can you still like him after all that?" he muttered under his breath, as the Michael in the picture saddled up to a miserable looking Cho in the back. Ginny must still like him, because she wouldn't keep a reminder like this in her room if she didn't.

"That's the thing, Harry," said Ginny casually, "I don't like him. But he was my first boyfriend. It's something kind of hard to forget."

Harry instantly flushed. He hadn't meant to say that out loud, and he hadn't meant for Ginny to hear it. He hadn't expected her to reply the way she had either. A part of him was pleasantly surprised to have Ginny confide in him (which she was, he realized) something personal as this, another part was feeling extremely awkward about it.

"I don't care about him anymore..." sighed Ginny, "and I do care. It's complicated. D'you know what I mean?"

Harry had no clue what she meant but felt inclined to nod. From the casual, but keenly observative look she was giving him, Harry suspected Ginny expected him to understand.

"Is it... is it the same with you and Cho?" She asked hesitantly, almost cautiously, as though she were treading a tightrope and was afraid of falling.

Harry hadn't expected this question either. Hr looked down at the photo in his hand, and at Cho, who was now looking much happier that Michael was there, talking earnestly into her ear, and probed his own feelings.

Did he care that she was dating Michael? Harry searched himself, but he couldnt find any jealousy, or anger, or even a slight bit of loss. His stomach no longer did those funny somersaults like it used to whenever he saw her face. In fact, it had been a long time since he'd felt that feeling.

All the strong emotions he'd felt in the past seemed to have been swallowed up by a gaping hole of nothingness deep in the pit of his stomach, placed there to reside permanently when Sirius had died. The thought of Sirius instensified his feeling of hollowness, swallowing him into a fit of fresh misery.

Harry turned abruptly to put the photo back on Ginny's shelf. He didn't know what he felt anymore, he didn't seem to feel anything but grief for Sirius and he didn't need reminding of that, he was doing a wonderful job of it himself.

"I'm sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to pry." said Ginny from behind him. There was a note of concern in her voice. She tried to hide it under a layer of nonchalance. "I was just curious..."

Harry set the picture down and stared at it for a moment. The tone of anxiety in Ginny's voice reminded him of how everyone treated him like a glass doll these days, as though he would shatter if touched too hard, or spoken too loudly to. At first he hadn't cared, he'd liked the solitude this provided. But now, for a few minutes there, he'd forgetten about all that. Ginny seemed to be the only person who didn't talk to him in that way, but now - now she was taking on that infuriatingly gentle tone of voice.

Harry felt a flash of anger towards her. "Don't be sorry," he said, rather curtly, turning around. "I was just thinking about it."

Ginny raised her eyebrow, sensing the stiffness that had enveloped him. "Oh?"

"I don't really think about these things anymore." he said, truthfully but harshly.

"I see."

Harry watched as she picked up a bunch of loose parchment from the floor and shoved them into an empty drawer in her scratched up dresser table, rather stiffly as well. Harry inwardly sighed. He must have offended her with his cool tone.

A part of him was angry with her, and the voice that went with it said angrily in his head, 'why does she care what I think anyway? It's not my fault Michael ran to Cho.' But as soon as he thought these words Harry knew that this was not what it was all about. He knew, on a deeper level, that Ginny was concerned about him, like she had always been.

A twinge of guilt picked at his insides, surprising him. He hadn't felt guilt for being sharp with anyone since term ended... He straightened up slightly, taking in a breath.

"I'm just glad she's happier now," said Harry finally. He was glad to see Cho smiling again, and not sobbing all the time like a leaky faucet.

"You don't mind at all that she's with Michael?" asked Ginny, looking over her shoulder at him. She sounded unconvinced.

"No." His answer was almost automatic. He didn't care who Cho was with anymore.

Possibly mollified by his reconcilatory tone, she turned fully around. The beam of afternoon sunlight from the window fell squarely on her face and hair, making it difficult for Harry to see her expression. He thought that he saw a small, pleased smile on her lips for a brief second, but a moment later it was gone. Harry wasn't sure what to make of it.

Her demeanor was friendly again, relaxed and back to normal. Curiously, Harry inquired, " Don't you care?"

"Not in the least. I'm glad Michael's happier, I'm especially glad it's not with me." She grinned. "He was always so sulky when things didn't go his way."

"Right," said Harry, feeling better now that Ginny was smiling again. He was unused to seeing her upset - at him, that is. Ginny was rarely anything but cheerful when he was around, it was one of the things he liked best about her, without realizing it until now.

They stood for a moment in silence, until Harry was suddenly aware of the fact that he and Ginny were alone, in her bedroom, staring at each other.

"Er..." he said slowly, awkwardly, to break the silence, "Have you got all your things?"

"Yeah, thanks loads."

"No problem."

They stood staring at each other again for a split second, until Harry had to divert his eyes from her gaze. He thought he saw that brief, flashing smile again on the courner of Ginny's mouth, but he wasn't sure.

"I guess... I guess I'll go now, then..." Harry mumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets for lack of anything better to do with them.

"Yeah," said Ginny, nodding. "Ok."

"See you later - I mean, at dinner," he replied, moving towards the door. She watched him as he grazed her in the small confines of the room.

He turned the knob of the door, hovering there as he heard Ginny moved about the room behind him, riffling through the pile of things he'd tossed on her bed. He glanced back at the photo on the shelf, and left.

"Harry?"

He pushed the door open again, sticking his head through.

"Yes?"

Ginny grinned at him. "Thanks for the book."

Reviews 16
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