47 AM
“No, Harry, don’t touch me. You come here reeking of Firewhisky…”
“Ginny…I thought you wanted to talk? When we got back to the castle?”
“Yes, but—really? It’s nearly three in the morning.”
“You were still awake. You were waiting for me.”
“Because I was worried that you—you had taken off, like last time. Or that you were in trouble—or—or sad, but instead you were at the pub living it up! On the first night of school no less!”
“So were Hermione and Ron…”
“I don’t care about them! I care about you.”
“I know, Ginny.”
“But you don’t! You don’t know. You think you do, but you really, really don’t.”
“I’m not the same as before. I won’t—I won’t leave you. Trust me.”
“Well, that’s the thing about trust, isn’t it? It’s easily broken, and very hard to fix.”
“If you don’t want to be with me, then just say it.”
“There you go again, playing the victim.”
“I have made mistakes, Ginny. But I’ve changed. I thought you agreed.”
“I don’t know, Harry. I love you, that’s what I know. But maybe that’s not enough.”
“...”
“It’s too late to be speaking about these things. We’re both tired, and neither of us is clear-minded right now. Let’s talk tomorrow when we’re both rested. Goodnight, Harry.”
“Ginny.”
“Yes?”
“I love you. I do.”
“I know, Harry.”
“Good.”
“Well, goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Ginny.”