Disclaimer: Everything belongs to J.K.R.

January 2002

I Apparated to Grimmauld Place, changed my extravagant ball gown for my nightie, scrubbed off the makeup and brushed the curls out of my hair, and walked down to the kitchen in search of something to calm me. A bottle of Firewhisky was just what I needed now. My bad luck the Harpies had an important game tomorrow, and I was one of the starting chasers. Our trainer would want to have my head for breakfast if I turned up with a hangover.

The kitchen was empty. I let out a deep breath, and some tension left my body. Thank Merlin Kreacher didn't show up. The last thing I needed right now was the elf's muttered, hateful remarks about me.

I prepared myself a herbal tea, extinguished the light and pulled a chair towards the large window.

You couldn't see much from here, just the small patio in front of the entrance to the lower ground floor and the former servant's stair that led up to the small stretch of pavement in front of the house. If you twisted your neck in the right angle, however you could glimpse the sky, polluted by the London city lights, and imagine you were looking at the stars.

I have no idea how long I sat there; the mug cradled between my cold hands, and scrutinized the dark sky, as if the answers to my questions were written there like the Quidditch moves our trainer draw on a chalkboard.

At last there was the telltale sound of Apparition in the place's garden. Seconds later Harry strode towards the house. Clad in black, he was almost one with the darkness, but I'd recognise him by the quick, yet graceful way he moved anywhere.

The front door opened and clicked shut, then his soft steps walked up to our bedroom. I held my breath and waited.

Not even a minute later the door of our bedroom opened again. Hasty feet hurried down the hallway, the stairs, and towards the door to the kitchen.

The door yanked open. Harry stood in the doorway, visible in the light that fell into the kitchen from the lantern in front of the house. He still wore his dress pants and starched white shirt, although he had removed his dress robes, the waistcoat, and the tie, and opened the buttons at his throat.

His eyes roamed the room, and he let out a deep breath when he discovered me huddled in the chair in front of the window, my legs drawn up.

In the blink of an eye, his face hardened. 'Care to tell me what that was about, Ginny? One moment I take care of Greengrass, and when I look around, you're gone. I searched for you all over the place.'

I met his stare with one of my own. 'You seemed rather occupied when you took care of Greengrass. I didn't want to come between that.' As soon as the petty words were out of my mouth, I wished I could take them back.

Harry's face became stoney, his eyes flashed at me. 'You're making a mountain out of a molehill, Ginny. Greengrass is a coworker and a friend, nothing more. I comforted her like I'd have comforted Hermione if she had broken up with Ron.'

His words were like salt in an open wound. Heat rushed through my body. I put the mug on the windowsill and rose from my chair to meet him on equal ground, my head held high.

'No, you didn't, Harry.'

'Huh? What are you talking about?'

I gritted my teeth. How daft did he think me that he tried to feed me such a blatant lie?

'Hermione and I had long talks about what happened while you were on the run. It helped her cope, I think, and it helped me to understand you, since you didn't talk much to me about this time. One thing she mentioned over and over again was the way how all communication seemed to have dried up between you and her the moment Ron left. You didn't turn to each other; Hermione said you withdrew into yourself and there were days you didn't talk at all. You never took her in your arms and comforted her the way you comforted Greengrass tonight.'

His head jerked back, and he stared at me from under furrowed eyebrows. However, he recovered soon. He walked into the room, leaned with his back against the kitchen counter, his legs crossed, and folded his arms in front of his chest, his hands tucked in his armpits. 'That was different. I was different back then. There was so much pressure on me…' His voice faded, and he stared ahead with unseeing eyes.

It didn't take Legilimency for me to know he was haunted by the memories of the year he'd been on the run, a time of his life I still knew next to nothing about, except little snippets he dropped here and there. He'd clam up every time I tried to get him to talk, and after a few futile tries I'd given up and respected his privacy. I'd never thought much about it; that was so typically Harry, he needed to come to grips with things on his own time - and he'd always rather talked to Hermione and Ron about his demons than to me.

I'd accepted that a long time ago, when I realised after Dumbledore's murder that he'd break up with me and do whatever it was he needed to do. I could never measure up to Hermione and Ron. He loved me, in his own way, but there always was a part of him he'd keep away from me. I'd been alright with that as long as Hermione and Ron had been the only ones he confided in. Nowadays, however, he seemed to confide into quite a number of people, and I, his fiancé, had somehow ended at the end of the queue.

My eyes stung, and there was a pain deep in my throat. I'd thought when we moved together we would become closer and he would include me into his life as his partner and most cherished confidante. Merlin, I'd never been so wrong, so much I'd found out during that wretched ball.

Harry's eyes turned back. 'I grew up since then, at least a little. I comforted you in the same way at Fred's funeral.'

A sharp pain jolted through my body. We'd already been a couple again at that time. I took a deep, shaking breath. 'You know, that somehow confirms my assumptions about you and Greengrass.'

'Huh?' He looked at me as if I was talking in a language he didn't understand.

Which I probably was. I pressed my hands together to keep me from bursting out into tears. Right now I didn't want to show any weakness in front of him. He needed to understand how hurt I was, maybe that would bring us on the same level. 'It's not only that, Harry. You seem to know quite a lot about her private life.'

Again that blank look. 'What by Merlin are you talking about, Ginny?'

'You told her she'd used Vaisey. That indicates a pretty intimate knowledge of their relationship. Greengrass doesn't strike me as the kind of woman who chats about relationship-problems with mere acquaintances. You two seem to know each other rather well, and she trusts you.'

'Oh, that.' He straightened and ran a hand through his hair. 'Well, I suppose you're right with that. We spent a lot of time together during the past two years. Setting up test series and watching them while you wait for the results can be rather boring, you know, and we talked about this and that.'

I raised my eyebrow. 'About relationships?'

'No, not exactly. Though I might have mentioned two or three times how much I missed you.' He smiled at me and shifted his position. 'Look, I won't talk to you about something Greengrass told me in confidence, Ginny. There's nothing between her and me you need to worry about. She's just a friend, like Hermione.'

Was she? I gave him a sharp glace.

His eyes met mine, wide open and sincere. He believed what he said.

Yes, they were friends, good friends, and yet my gut feeling told me she was far from being in the same category as Hermione. However, I kept my mouth shut instead of confronting him with my doubts. What would be gained by that? What if I read the signs wrong?

What if not? that pesky tiny voice inside me asked. I shut it off; I'd deal with that when - no, if - that time came.

Yet, there was still another issue that burned on my mind. 'Why did you never tell me about the plans you made with Neville, Ron, Hermione, Greengrass, and Merlin knows who else? I felt pretty foolish tonight when Neville talked to me about them, and I had to admit I had no idea.'

Harry's cheeks flushed. 'I told you when we talked about me becoming Robards' successor. After all, I asked you to be the hostess for the manoeuvring behind the scenes I'll need to do.'

'Yes, but you didn't tell me everything, Harry. Everyone knew, Neville, Ron, Hermione, Percy… even Greengrass. Everyone, except me. Do you have an idea how that made me feel?'

He slumped, stuffed his hands into his pockets, and averted his eyes. 'I'm sorry, Ginny, I didn't mean to hurt you, it's just -'

A shrill buzz, coming from the pocket of his trousers, interrupted him.

'All Auror Alert! All Auror Alert! This is not a test. All Auror Alert!'

'Fuck!'

Harry pulled a flat, round device, much like the fake Galleons Hermione had made for the D.A., out of his pocket and tipped the tip of his wand to it.

The infernal buzzing stopped.

He stuffed the device back in his pocket, pushed himself off the counter and turned to the door. Already halfway out, he looked over his shoulder. 'I'm sorry, Ginny, we'll talk when I'm back.'

I nodded, too surprised to get a word out. He didn't see it, he'd already turned his head again and was heading towards the door. Seconds later the entrance door banged shut behind him, and there was the sound of Apparition.

My mouth quivered and my throat ached. I gave in to the urge, palmed my face in my hands, and had a long cry.

He hadn't kissed me goodbye.

Although I was tired to the bone, sleep evaded me that night.

As a result, our trainer wasn't happy with me at the end of our game on Saturday. We'd won, with ten points to spare, thanks to Kelly, our excellent Seeker. My performance had been abysmal, and our trainer didn't mince words with me when she uttered her displeasure.

'Fuck you, Weasley, you played as if you'd never been on a broom before. You dropped the Quaffle three times when you should have scored an easy goal. Three times! What in the name of Hades was going on in your head?'

I lowered my gaze to the ground and shuffled my feet. There was no use telling her about my worries about Harry being out on a probably dangerous mission, or my worries about our relationship, and the fight we'd had before the alarm went off. She expected from us to push minor inconveniences like that into the back of our minds and concentrate on the important task at hand: Quidditch.

Her tirade went on for another five minutes until I she allowed me to join my teammates for the victory party.

Abrianna pushed a glass of Firewhisky in my hand. 'Here, you look as if you need it.'

She was right; the thought of getting pissed and forgetting about the stuff going on in my life was tempting. Yet I hesitated to take the shot. 'I'd better not. I won't stay long tonight and return home.'

Abrianna raised her eyebrows. 'Suit yourself.' She downed the Firewhisky and gave me a thoughtful look. 'You never go home after games. Which is baffling, considering the surprise you've sprung at us. I mean, you've got Harry Potter waiting for you!'

I cast a look over my shoulder. All of my teammates were celebrating, nobody paid heed to Abrianna and me. Good. The news about Harry's and my engagement had made it to the front page of today's Daily Prophet. I should have expected that after the ball, and yet the headline had hit me by surprise. My teammates all had been focussed on the upcoming game when I arrived on the training grounds, so nobody had remarked on the article - until now.

'Sorry, I never kept it a secret. None of you ever asked for details about my private life. You just accepted I was engaged to an Auror who was too busy to watch my games.'

'True.' Abrianna deposited her glass on a tablet with shots an elf carried around and exchanged it for a full glass. 'However, had I such a hottie waiting for me at home, I wouldn't care for the after-game-party. I mean - Harry Potter!'

I shrugged at that. 'To me, he's always been just Harry.' That wasn't the whole truth, at least up to my third year I'd acted as star-struck around him as the rest of the magical world. Abrianna didn't have to know though.

She gazed at me over the rim of the shot in her hand. 'You're rather quiet today, you didn't play to your usual standard, and you want to go back to your own place tonight instead staying at the dorms. Why do I sense a pattern there?'

My stomach gave an uncomfortable flutter, and I averted my eyes. The last thing I needed were speculations about my life among my teammates. The Harpies' rumour mill was as efficient as the Hogwarts' rumour mill, with the added downside that everyone on the team had good connections to the press and wouldn't hesitate to use them to their own advantage. I didn't want to read supposed insider stories about Harry and me in The Daily Prophet.

'Don't worry, I value our friendship too much as I'd give away details about your private life with Potter,' Aubrianna said. She put a hand on my arm. 'Troubles in paradise?' Her voice sounded warm and concerned.

I cast a surreptitious look at my partying teammates, pulled my wand out of the pocket of my training robes, and cast a silent Muffliatoaround Aubrianna and me. 'Harry got called to a mission last night.'

'So, you're worried about him?'

'Yeah, kind of.' I stashed the wand back in my robes, not sure if it was wise to confide into Aubrianna. 'Though, Harry told me right from the beginning not to worry if he doesn't return home or contacts me when he's on a case. If something… goes wrong, I'll hear from the Auror Department, so in fact no news means good news when he's away.'

'It must have happened before, and yet you've never showed a sign of worry or nervousness. What's different this time?' Aubrianna raised her eyebrows at me and downed her second shot.

I bit my lower lip. Could I dare telling her? I weighed the pros and cons in my mind. The urge to unburden myself won. 'We fought before he left.'

Aubrianna grimaced. 'I see, you're worried your fight might impact his work and he gets hurt because of that. After all, it had an impact on you.' She put a hand on my shoulder and gave it a squeeze. 'Why don't you head home? Maybe he's already back, and you can make up and shag each other senseless in celebration of that.'

I acknowledged her attempt to cheer me up with a weak smile. If only things were as easy as that. However, where Harry Potter was concerned, things were never easy. I suppressed a grimace.

She squeezed my shoulder once again. 'If he isn't home yet, go and talk to Hermione Granger. She's friends with him as well as with you, isn't she? So she should be able to give you better advice than I can, and you don't have to worry about things getting outside of your small circle of close friends.'

That was sound advice. I leaned forward and hugged her. 'Thank you, Aubrianna, you're a real friend.'

Ten minutes later, I was back at Grimmauld Place. Kreacher greeted me with his usual hateful glare and muttered words of resentment. I ignored him; while I would've loved to get rid of the elf, Harry didn't want to hear a word about that. He treated him like a cherished family member, and Kreacher responded with blind adoration, and rejected all of my attempts to become friends with him.

The best course of action was to ignore him. 'Is Harry already back?' I asked and cleared the soot from my training robes.

Kreacher didn't deign to look at me, his concentration on the silver candlesticks he was cleaning. 'Master still bes at work.'

My shoulders slumped. I had so hoped Harry would be back already, and we'd be able to clear the air. Sudden tiredness overcame me. Without another word to Kreacher, I left the kitchen and dragged myself up to our bedroom, where I peeled myself out of my training robes, slipped on a nightie and crawled into bed.

Maybe it was because of my sleepless night the day before, but I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

It was already broad daylight when I woke up the next morning. I stretched and looked at the bed beside me. It was empty. So I still couldn't talk to Harry. At once, my innards wriggled as if someone had set loose a can of worms there.

My nervosity hadn't got better when I came down into the kitchen. My appearance was the sign for Kreacher to retreat to the room Harry had assigned him next to the master bedroom. The room once belonged to Sirius' younger brother, and Kreacher had turned it into a kind of shrine for all things Black.

Breakfast didn't sound appealing at all. I cast a look at the clock on the wall. It was almost noon. I could invite myself to The Burrow for lunch, mum would be over the moon. She often complained that Harry's and my visits had become so sparse. She'd shower me with attention, food and questions about my life and Harry. The latter was something I could do without as long as I hadn't cleared the air between Harry and me.

So, The Burrow was out of the question.

Aubrianna's suggestion came to my mind. I could ask Hermione to join me for brunch somewhere and have a much needed girl-talk about Harry. Maybe that would settle my nervosity somewhat.

I walked to the fireplace, threw some Floo Powder into the flames, and called, 'Residence of Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley.'

My head was spun through the Floo system. I got glimpses of at least half a dozen foreign living rooms and kitchens until the spinning came to a halt to the sight of the familiar living room of my brother and his girlfriend, with overspilling bookcases lining the walls and additional stacks of books on every available surface, even on the windowsill and between the comfy chairs.

'Hermione? Anyone at home?'

Footsteps came closer from somewhere deeper in the flat, the door to the living room opened, and Hermione came in. She'd changed a lot since the day I met her first. She'd got rid of her buckteeth in her fourth year, and ever since she worked at the Ministry of Magic she made an effort with her outer appearance to present the image of a competent uprising young professional woman. Custom brewed shampoo and conditioner potions nowadays tamed her bushy hair and she wore it in a simple, but elegant chignon at the back on her head. Yet it still had a rebellious streak, and after not even half an hour a few wisps would escape and frame her face in soft curls. Instead of in bulky school robes she nowaday dressed in smart Muggle pant suits with a starched white blouse beneath, and crisp, open business robes worn over that outfit. To Ron's secret delight she'd even wear light makeup.

Hermione's face lit up when she saw me. 'Ginny!' She crouched down in front of the fireplace. Today, she wore faded jeans and a pink sweater; her hair, however, was pulled back in a chignon, and she wore lipgloss and mascara.

'It must've been ages since we last talked.' She made herself comfortable on the hard floor. 'What brings you here? I gather Harry isn't back yet? Neither is Ron.'

Heat rushed into my face. Hermione was right, I'd neglected her over the demands of being a Holyhead Harpy.

Hermione picked up on my embarrassment. 'Don't worry about that, Ginny. Harry told me everything about your tight schedule. He's so proud of you, you should've heard him when you scored your first goal for the Harpies.'

Warmth spread in my chest. She was right, Harry was proud of me. Each Sunday, when I returned from the Harpies' dorms, he'd spend a lot of time analysing our last game with me, and praising my moves. I focussed on the warm glow inside me. Our relationship was about the small things in life, and not about some grand scheme for the betterment of the magical world.

I smiled at Hermione. 'What about having brunch together and some girl talk, since the boys are still on duty? I doubt we'll see them anytime soon.'

A shadow flickered across Hermione's face. The next second it was replaced by a broad smile. 'Sounds great. Let me get my purse and cloak, and I'll be over in a sec.' She jumped to her feet and walked out of the room.

What was that all about? Did Hermione know more about Harry's current mission than I? Most likely; she also worked in the Ministry, and she'd always been deep in Harry's confidence when it came to the fight against Voldemort and his Death Eaters. My stomach gave an uncomfortable lurch. This was another reminder there were things going on in Harry's life I didn't know. I raised my thumb to my mouth and picked at the nail, a childish habit that came back whenever I was insecure.

Hermione returned in a Muggle-style winter coat, the strap of her purse slung over one shoulder. I pulled away from the fireplace to let her through. She emerged from the Floo with a grace that would've put any member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight to shame, there was not a speck of soot on her hair or her clothing. We exchanged a small hug.

'Just let me get my purse and my cloak, and I'm ready to go wherever you like.' I cast a glance at her Muggle clothes. 'I gather you don't fancy breakfast at The Leaky Cauldron?'

She shrugged. 'I'll leave it up to you, though I think we'll have more privacy in a Muggle restaurant.'

'You have a point there.' My popularity among Quidditch fans had skyrocketed during the last year. By now it was as hard for me to move in the wizarding public without being accosted by fans as it was for Harry.

Fifteen minutes later we sat across each other at a table of the Sparrow in the Bush, a country-style pub on Essex Road that served brunch all day long at the weekends. While we picked our choices and waited for the waitress to bring our meals, we talked about this and that and brought each other up to speed about what was going on in our jobs, and I racked my brain how to best bring up Harry and my worries about our relationship.

Hermione, Merlin bless her, solved my dilemma. As soon as the waitress had placed the plates in front of us and turned her back, she picked up her cutlery and cast me a sharp glance across the table. 'Alright, Ginny, out with it. What's bothering you?'

I let out a deep breath. I'd forgotten how observant Hermione was. She'd been a socially deaf girl during our Hogwarts days who alienated quite a lot of students with her demanding ways. However, only little that happened within the student body had escaped her attention, no matter which house.

'It's… everything. It's such a jumbled mess in my head I have no idea where to begin.'

'The beginning would be a good point.' Hermione smiled at me over the rim of her teacup.

The beginning. I bit back a sarcastic laugh. That was easier said than done. I searched my memories. When had been the first time I'd thought Harry and I weren't on the same page?

'It started with that damned hut,' I blurted out.

Hermione put down the cup and gave me a look from under puckered brows. 'Excuse me?'

'He took me there the day after our engagement. He was as eager as a small boy who showed me his greatest treasure.'

The next moment I spilled out everything that had happened since Harry and I became engaged: his obsession with his parent's hut I despised, the long time of separation almost immediately after our engagement and the little communication we had during that time, the ball he invited me to I had missed because of the trip to Australia, my shock when I saw the photo of Harry and Greengrass in The Daily Prophet, my secret disappointment that things didn't seem to get any better after we'd moved together, my reservations against Harry's career plans, and my resentment when I found out that all of his friends seemed to know more about his life than I did, and the overwhelming jealousy when he'd comforted Greengrass. All that came out in one jumbled avalanche of words.

Hermione listened and ah-ed and uhm-ed in all the right places.

When I reached the end of my tale, my voice quivered, and there was a pain in my throat. I gritted my teeth and fought down the tears.

My friend didn't talk at once when I ended my monologue. Instead, she slumped back in her chair and averted her eyes to look out of the window, her mouth cupped with her hand.

At length, she lowered her hand. 'This is worse than I'd expected.'

'Excuse me?'

Hermione turned her eyes back to me. She didn't smile, and her face was tense. 'You didn't change much since you raved about Harry to me and pumped me for information about him during your second year, did you?'

I gaped at her.

'You told me everything about how Harry let you down in your opinion. However, I'm missing the part where he didn't respond to your efforts to get him talking or making him look at things from your point of view. Merlin, Ginny, you know Harry, thanks to his horrendous upbringing his social skills are lacking. He won't discuss the problems between you as long as you don't force him to even though he's probably as aware of them as you are. He wouldn't know how to approach them.'

Heat shot into my cheeks, and my face and neck tingled. I froze and stared at Hermione with wide eyes. 'What?'

'You understood me well enough.' Hermione's eyes shot daggers at me across the table. 'For Merlin's sake, Ginny, grow up! You're not teenagers at Hogwarts anymore who play games with each other. You and Harry are planning on spending your lives together, so you both should put some effort in working on your relationship. You know Harry needs guidance in that area, so you should've doubled your efforts. Instead, you were content being the fiancé of the Chosen One and the upcoming star of the Holyhead Harpies and did nothing to find out how Harry feels or what is driving him. When you finally realised that he actually has a life and dreams outside of the bedroom, you were offended.'

'He never talked -'

'Don't give me that dragondung.' Hermione overran my feeble protests. 'Harry tried to talk to you, you admitted that much. He took you to the hut, he talked to you about his plans for the Auror Department… but you weren't interested, Ginny! You might not have said so, however, I bet it showed in your behaviour, and Harry will have picked up on that. As a result he turned to Ron and me and also to the new friends he made in the Ministry who are on the same wavelength.'

'Greengrass!' I was shocked at the venom in my voice when I spat out the name.

Hermione nodded. 'She and Harry have a lot in common. They also spend a lot of time together. I'm not surprised they've become good friends.'

'By the way how Harry comforted her, I had the impression they were more than that.'

Hermione shook her head at that. 'They're not, at least not yet. Harry's too noble to cheat on you before ending things with you first. That notwithstanding, there are other ways to leave behind those closest to you than sleeping around. Over the course of the last three years Daphne's become Harry's confidante. I'm sure he told her a lot of things he even didn't tell Ron and me. From where they are it's only a small step to physical closeness, if you get my drift.' She took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. 'I hate to say it, Ginny, your apprehensions regarding their relationship are spot on, even though I'm not sure if Harry has realised yet where he's heading. If you want to turn things around, you'd better make a huge effort to become an essential part of his life.'

The words pounded down on me like Bludgers hit with steel hammers. Everything went cold inside me, and my skin tingled all over my body. I shook my head. 'No… No, no, no. That can't be true. Harry loves me.'

'He does, although I won't put it past him that his feelings will change if you continue on this path.' Hermione's voice seemed to come from far away.

I stared at the plate in front of me and bile rose in my throat. The eggs benedict would go back to the kitchen untouched. I put some Muggle money on the table, pushed my chair back and got to my feet, slowly and clumsy like an old woman. 'Excuse me, Hermione, I need some time of my own.'

'It's alright, Ginny.' Hermione's voice, soft and full of compassion, reached me as if through a thick layer of cotton wool.

I have no idea how I made it out of the restaurant and back to Grimmauld Place without being run over by a car or Splinching myself as I Apparated. Harry wasn't home yet, and I curled up under a thick blanket in front of the fireplace of the living room. Neither the blanket, nor the roaring fire I lit in the fireplace the second I entered the room did anything to numb the cold that had overwhelmed me when I listened to Hermione's devastating assessment of the state of Harry's and my relationship. What was I supposed to do? Talking was a good advice, however, Harry had to be in the same room for that, and we hardly ever were.

Harry didn't return from his mission that Sunday. He still wasn't back when I left the house Monday morning. That was unfortunate, to say the least. I had to leave for the Harpies' winter training camp in South Africa that morning and wouldn't be back until February, with the second half of the Quidditch season starting soon after that.

The last hour before I had to leave for the Harpies' training grounds to catch the Portkey to Cape Town I spent in front of Harry's desk, trying to come up with the right words for a proper goodbye that also conveyed my need for a long and undisturbed talk as soon as I returned.

Needless to say I failed. In the end I left the house without a message for Harry.

The weeks I spent in South Africa were the longest weeks of my life, longer even than all those months Harry had been on the run and I'd had no idea how he was faring. He didn't write once.

When I returned home, I was determined to make changes in our relationship.

However, it takes two to tango. Whilst I cleared my schedule of everything I wasn't supposed to do without breaking my contract, Harry carried on as usual. When I brought up the issue of spending more time together as a couple, he didn't react. Until today I have no idea if he didn't listen since his thoughts were elsewhere or if he ignored me on purpose.

Somehow we muddled through the following weeks. On the outside, our relationship seemed intact. Harry would give me a peck on the cheek when he left in the mornings and greet me the same way whenever we both came home at a reasonable time. The latter hardly ever happened. However, his kisses seemed perfunctory, and he never instigated more. Whenever I cuddled up next to him for some quality time, he'd get up a couple of minutes later with a feeble excuse.

He was drifting away from me. At first, I came up with excuses for his behaviour. He was tired, he'd had a long day at the Ministry, Robards was working him hard… However, when the weeks flew by I ran out of pretences.

We were heading towards the end.

Stubborn redhead I was, I kept ignoring the obvious until the truth bit me in the arse.

It was a balmy and sunny day in June 2002, just right to grab your broom and go flying. The Quidditch season had ended the weekend before, with the Holyhead Harpies finishing as runners-up. My contract had been prolonged, and I got another pay-rise and additional benefits. There were even rumours of an invitation for me to join the English national team in the approaching friendly game against Bulgaria.

Life was good to me, at least on the outside.

I sat in front of the mirror of the vanity of our bedroom and finished the last touches of my makeup. The door opened behind me, the mirror showed Harry walking into the room, his hair still wet from the shower and sticking out into all directions, and clad into nothing more but a towel slung around his hips. Without a glance at me he strode over to the wardrobe and vanished out of the mirror.

There was the soft creak of the door of the vanity opening, and then the rustle of clothes as he dressed.

With a sinking heart I returned to the mirror to finish my makeup. When had been the last time he'd looked at me and paid me a compliment? Nowadays I could as well be a piece of furniture in his room, he gave me about as much attention.

'Are you ready?'

I nodded in response, got up and grabbed for my purse. When I turned around to give Harry the full view of my new dress, he'd already turned his back to me and headed towards the door.

We walked down the stairs in silence. The silence continued when we walked out of the house towards the shrubbery in the middle of Grimmauld Place. Harry offered me his arm, and the next moment he Apparated us away.

We appeared in a lavish garden. It belonged to Longbottom Farm near York and was a true testament to Neville's skills as a gardener and herbologist.

The party was already in full swing when we arrived. Neville, together with Ron and Hermione and a couple of other friends who'd worked for the Ministry since they'd graduated from Hogwarts, had finished his training this week and had used the opportunity for a party.

He welcomed Harry with a slap on the shoulder and greeted me with a peck on the cheek. 'Get something to drink and make yourself comfortable. I think you know everyone who's here tonight.'

On Harry's arm I made my round to greet the other guests, and then we ambled to the bar. On our way we stumbled upon Susan Bones and Ernie Macmillan. They sat at a round table together with two other males whom Susan introduced as her co-workers from the D.M.L.E. who had finished their training together with her. Of course they knew Harry from the Ministry, that notwithstanding they seemed to be as awestruck in his presence as the majority of the magical population. They didn't have these reservations with me.

'Ginny Weasley, isn't it?' the taller one of the two said. 'I'm a huge fan of yours! Congratulations to your success in this season. Chaser of the Year is something, I'd say.'

Used to that kind of talk I gave the appropriate thanks. He and his co-worker turned out to be ardent Quidditch aficionados, and before long I was involved in an interesting talk about teams, strategies and my prospects for a place on the English national team. Ernie threw in his two Knuts, while Harry sat down next to Susan and they stuck their heads together in a quiet conversation.

As immersed in the conversation with my two fans as I was, I never noticed when Harry got up from the table and left. The two blokes knew a lot about Quidditch, and it was fun talking to them especially since they supplied me with enough Butterbeer that my voice wouldn't become hoarse.

It wasn't until much later that night that I thought of looking for my fiancé.

Meanwhile, it had become dark, and the garden was dimly lit by strings of colourful lanterns and a few candles on the tables. There was laughter everywhere, and soft music. I looked around, it was hard to discern faces in the flickering light of the candles. Harry wasn't at the table where Ron and Hermione seemed to have a lively discussion with Dean Thomas and his date. He wasn't in the boisterous group around Neville and Hannah, either. In fact, I was sure he wasn't sitting at one of the many tables at all.

In search of my fiancé I made my way deeper into the garden.

I turned around a hedgerow and found them sitting side by side in a swing under a huge apple tree at the end of the garden. There weren't any lanterns here, even so the moon was bright enough to give me a good view.

Each of them sat in a corner of the swing, their bodies angled towards each other and their knees pointed towards each other and almost touching. Greengrass looked different than the last time I'd seen her, albeit no less attractive. She wore her almost waist-long hair open and twirled a strand around her finger as she talked to Harry. Like on the ball she had put on little, nevertheless effective makeup. Her lip gloss made her pink lips shine invitingly whenever she looked at Harry, and by the way his gaze was glued to her mouth he was well aware of it.

My knees became unsteady, and I grabbed for a branch of the hedgerow not to faceplant. When had been the last time he had looked at me like that?

Harry said something in a low voice. I strained my ears. Was he telling her sweet nothings?

No, he was talking about "triple condensed potions" and "repeating the series", so it was all about his damned project. However, by the way Greengrass hung to each word he said you'd think he was reciting Shakespeare's love sonnets to her. She giggled, bent forward and touched Harry's arm in a brief gesture. I had no idea what was so funny about their mutual project, but Greengrass obviously thought so, and Harry lapped up every giggle. He leaned forward and picked a dead baby apple out of her hair as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

My chest tightened. I blinked a few times at the couple on the swing. No, that couldn't be true, I was in a nightmare and would wake up in my bed any second.

I blinked again. The image before my eyes didn't fade.

I retreated behind the hedgerow and slumped down on a bench in the shadow. My movements were slow and sluggish, as if my bones were filled with lead, and my heart seemed like a cold stone in my breast.

What was I supposed to do now?

I closed my eyes and leaned back. From behind the hedgerow the soft sound of Greengrass' laughter, mixed with Harry's deeper chuckles, wafted over to me. Each of his chuckles cut into my heart like a knife.

My eyes stung, and there was a pain in my throat, yet I refused to cry as the truth settled in.

It was over. I'd lost Harry to Greengrass. He might not have cheated on me with her, but the way he was heading was obvious to see for anyone with eyes in their heads.

Worst of all, I had no-one else than myself to blame for that.

Hermione had been right, she'd been spot on with every word she'd said to me during our Sunday brunch. I'd driven Harry away by my obvious disinterest in the things important to him, and Greengrass had been there to fill the gap. Even when I'd finally realised where we were heading, my attempts to rescue our relationship had been half-hearted, at best.

Had there been a part in me that had given up right from the beginning since I thought I could never measure up to what Harry was expecting from me? Come to think of that, wasn't it a bit unfair of him to expect from me to become the perfect hostess for political parties when all I ever wanted was playing Quidditch and taking care of my family after my active career was over?

Or maybe it was just because our goals in life were too different to accommodate them without one of us having to give up on their dreams?

I bent forward and covered my face with the palms of my hands. Looking for the reasons of my dreams shattering into tiny pieces was an exercise in futility when I had to come to grips with the harsh truth.

It was over.

Harry needed and expected more from the woman by his side than I was able to give him. Staying with him meant giving up on my own dreams, and I wasn't ready for that. In the end, we'd both be miserable.

Neither of us deserved that, and there was only one way to get out of this downward spiral. Since Harry seemed not yet to have realised what was happening, it fell on me to give both of us the easy way out before things became ugly.

My chest tightened, and the pain in my throat intensified. Oh Merlin, why in the world did it have to hurt that much? I bit on the insides of my cheeks to hold back the tears that threatened to fall from my eyes.

It seemed like an eternity to me until the pressure lessened, and I pulled my hands off my face.

My mind made up, I took a deep breath, squared my shoulders, and got up to join the party once again.

The End