It's OK Not To Be OK (But I Promise, I'm Trying)

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I own nothing

Chapter 2

Once upstairs, Harry walked around his dormitory, picking up a few odds and ends that had not yet made it into his trunk. On the nightstand next to his bed, he picked up Hermione's Arithmancy book, and smiled slightly. He had asked to borrow it shortly after their somewhat ill fated rescue attempt, and had almost withdrawn the request after seeing the way her eyes lit up. But listening to her talk about the subject over the year, he couldn't help but relate it to the maths classes he had taken in primary school. And if he had been allowed to perform at his best, rather than hide his intelligence to please his relatives, he would have been at the top of those classes. They had been his favorite.

He had begun reading through the textbook, and was surprised at how much he understood. He had half-formed ideas about asking what the policy was on changing electives, but he doubted McGonagall would allow it.

Professor McGonagall was something of a mystery to him. She seemed too stern and strict, but then she would give him these looks, like she was ashamed of herself, or guilty. Her expression would soften, and he would feel like she just wanted to give him a hug or something. It was a little unnerving, but he tried to ignore it. Adults were confusing, and he had long ago learned not to trust them. Not after the first time he had tried to go to a teacher about the Dursley's abuse, only to have the teacher - Mr. Waltham, the History teacher in Year Three - call up his aunt and uncle to warn them about his 'overactive imagination'. He had spent a week in his cupboard for that, trying not to cry every time movement jostled his broken arm and fractured ribs. The injuries had, of course, healed unnaturally quickly, something that only made Vernon angrier.

Harry flipped through the book for a moment, taking in very little of what was actually written, before he set it on the top of the rather haphazard pile of possessions packed in his trunk, and closed the lid. His wand, he kept with him, on the very real chance that he would be separated from his trunk upon arriving at Number Four, Privet Drive. He prayed he would be allowed to take a few things, but he didn't hold out much hope.

Dragging his trunk back downstairs, he was surprised to find Ginny waiting for him, her trunk packed and ready, and as he entered the room, she picked up one end, and began dragging it over to meet him by the door.

Harry couldn't help but smile at the girl who, until quite recently, had been so shy around him she hadn't been able to get out two words. "Thanks for waiting," he said quietly.

Ginny didn't reply, but the corner of her mouth quirked upwards. She couldn't believe how much their relationship had changed over the last hour. Just a day previously, the thought of being in the presence of the Boy Who Lived was almost too much to think about. She supposed the only thing that had really changed was her perspective. Harry wasn't just the Boy Who Lived anymore. Or rather, she didn't see him that way. He had gone from a fantasy bedtime story hero, to a real person. And she liked the real Harry. She had seen through the mask this morning, to the shy and somewhat uncertain boy underneath. He had opened up with her in a way she really couldn't have imagined possible, and she wasn't sure he had ever really opened up with anyone the way he had with her. She had seen the look in his eyes as he had spoken about long buried feelings and emotions, and she just knew that he hadn't been able to bring himself to talk about with Ron and Hermione. It made her feel special, but she also felt a sense of duty, and a weight settling down around her shoulders. She wanted to help him, but she didn't know how. She wasn't even sure their strange new relationship would last longer than this morning.

Ginny's thoughts carried her through several hallways, until they were stopped quite suddenly by Professor McGonagall, who asked for a quick word with Harry before he went to catch the train.