Jenorama Writes

“What’s this I hear about you going to Azkaban next week?” Harry asked from his spot on Ginny’s sofa.  He was stretched out on his back with his arm over his eyes to block out the late afternoon sunlight.

Ginny turned the burner down under the pot simmering on the cooker and wiped her hands on a dishtowel.  “It’s part of my training.  I’m going with Healer Williams as part of the St Mungo’s Magical Health Outreach Program.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a program Healer Williams started a couple of years ago.  He was outraged that those people in Azkaban don’t get any healthcare at all, so he persuaded St Mungo’s and the Wizengamot to let him start monthly visits.”  Ginny took her glass of wine over to the sofa, nudging Harry’s feet aside and sat down, putting his bare feet back in her lap.

“So this Healer goes to Azkaban once a month?  And takes a trainee with him?” Harry asked, lifting his arm from his eyes to look at her.  

“Yes.”  Ginny took the opportunity to run her finger along the bare arch of his foot, grinning when he twitched and flexed his toes.  Taking his feet out of her lap, Harry sat up, crossing his legs and frowning at her.  “What?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” he said, his tone carrying none of the easy joking that was the usual way between them.

“Why not?” Ginny held tight to the flash of anger that coursed through her, trying to keep an open mind for all that she was irritated that Harry had simply rejected her participation out of hand as if he had any say in the matter.

“Gin, those people are the worst of the worst.  They’re in Azkaban for a very good reason—some of them for several good reasons,” he said, dark brows drawn down.

Ginny crossed her arms, digging in for a good argument.  “Does that mean that they don’t deserve health care?”  Harry shrugged and she gasped.  “I can’t believe you even think that!”

“Gin, they’re not good people.  They did terrible, awful things of their own free will.”

“For which they’ll be stuck in Azkaban for the rest of their terrible lives and deservedly so.  But that doesn’t mean that they don’t deserve basic healthcare,” Ginny said obstinately.  

Harry looked at her like she was speaking a completely different language that he was struggling to understand.  “The worst of the worst,” he repeated slowly.  “Rosier.  Lestrange.  Mulciber.  The Carrows.”

A chill trickled down her spine when he named the Carrows and she had a brief vision of Alecto standing over her, laughing in mad glee as she lashed her with broad strokes of her wand, sending out a terrible energy that left her with painful red welts.  Setting her jaw, she banished the memory, stuffing it far away from the light.  “Who are you to say what I can and can’t do?”

Harry’s eyes narrowed and his mouth tightened.  “I thought I was your friend.”

His words and the hurt behind them threw a dash of cold water on Ginny’s defiance.  “Harry, it’s part of my training.  I need to be able to go into any situation and do my job.”

“What possible reason could you have to walk into a place full of the dregs of humanity and Dementors?”

“You never know!  There could be another war, a disaster!”  Ginny stood up from the couch and went back into the kitchen, ostensibly to check on the simmering pot, glad to be away from Harry’s gaze.  “Muggles could find out about us and attack with their bombs.”

Harry followed her into her tiny kitchen, leaning against the door frame.  “Muggles aren’t going to attack us with bombs, Gin.”

“How do you know?”  Harry gave her a look and she snorted.  “Oh, sorry, I forgot.  Mr High-And-Mighty-Auror knows everything that goes on.”

“I’m not—” He blew out a breath and she could see him making an effort to speak to her calmly, something that only made her angrier.  “I don’t know everything, but I know that you going to Azkaban is the worst idea I’ve heard in ages.”

[Add reaction here] “You do realize I spent an entire year at Hogwarts surrounded by these ‘worst of the worst’, don’t you?  While you were out traipsing around the countryside with your best friends, I was stuck in a dreary castle full of people who loved to do nothing less than hurt or curse me for the merest infraction.”  She was certain her face was turning red and she wiped at her nose, hating the quavery tone in her voice.  

Harry stood still, almost as if he were afraid of spooking her if he moved.  “I wasn’t exactly traipsing around, you know.”  

“You certainly weren’t suffering with the rest of us!” Ginny spat, surprised at the surge of bitterness that came with the words and the satisfaction at his stunned expression.

“No, I wasn’t suffering at Hogwarts!  I was fucking well starving and being menaced by wearing a piece of Voldemort, wasn’t I?” Harry returned, pulling down the neck of his tee shirt so she could see the top edge of the scar left by the locket; the same scar she must have kissed a thousand times by now.  “I was cut off from the entire world, nearly done in by a snake, beaten … I had to listen to Hermione get tortured and then I got to see the bravest House-Elf in the world die.  Really great fucking camping trip!”  

Ginny’s stomach dropped down to her toes, but she refused to allow him to think he had any right to dictate any part of her life to her.  “That was your decision.  And this is my decision.  You’re not my dad or even my boyfriend!”

“No, I’m not.  Also your decision, yeah?”  Harry turned away and grabbed his dragonhide jacket from the coatrack by the door, shoving his bare feet into his trainers.  “I’ll see you later.  Have fun with the Dementors and Death Eaters,” he said, slamming the door of her apartment so hard it sprang back open.