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Author: Starrika Story: The Lighthouse Rating: Teens Status: WIP Reviews: 39 Words: 12,216
Harry eyed the scorched potatoes balefully, a heavy sigh in his throat. Ginny would be back soon, and he'd already managed to destroy everything edible in the kitchen. When did he become so bad at cooking? He used to be passable at least, he was sure. Looking from the pot to his wand, he wondered if it was possible to transfigure food without causing some sort of damage. Deep in thought, he nearly jumped out of his skin when Ginny's head popped up over his shoulder. "Burnt the potatoes, have you?" she questioned with unchecked mirth. Drawing her own wand, she looked around the kitchen with a large smile on her face. "Would you mind if I helped?" Readily agreeing, Harry moved back from the pot and found himself being bossed to death in seconds. Ginny seemed to have taken over the kitchen in one fell swoop, pots and pans practically dancing in the air overhead like some Disney movie he'd seen the Dursleys watching so long ago. He'd been given the simple task of chopping vegetable as Ginny dealt with the 'mess he'd made.' She'd even called Miranda in to set the table with a voice that was eerily similar to her mother's. Cracking a smile at the thought, he wondered if Ginny would be happy with that comparison. "Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Potter. I would suggest you spend more time chopping, and less time grinning like a lunatic at your vegetables," a stern voice interrupted his thoughts, clearly trying to imitate Snape. Harry laughed, looking up at the still-grinning redhead. "But Professor! Ten points! That's not fair!" he exclaimed in mock outrage. Once her laughter had subsided, Ginny looked at the vegetables again. "No wonder you did so horribly at Potions," she remarked airily, and dumping the contents of the cutting board into the salad. "Here," she added, thrusting the bowl into his hands and returning to the pot on the stove. "If I'm not careful, this will boil over. Mix in the dressing, will you?" Harry complied and then placed the salad at the table. Returning to the kitchen, he leaned against the doorframe, trying to stay out of her way, but still wanting to watch her cook. "Merlin, sometimes you remind me so much of your mum it's scary," he remarked lightly. "Yes, well, at least I don't have half a dozen boys underfoot, so there's really no comparison," she replied, wondering when she had moved from sister to mother in Harry's mind. He really was the most infuriating boy ever! As he helped her carry the rest of the dishes out, Harry quirked an eyebrow in her direction. "At such a young age, too. Tut, tut, Ginevra. You must learn to control yourself," he returned, his voice back to its previous teasing tone. Ginny laughed, and the cool tone she had used moments ago was forgotten. However, the remark was not lost on Miranda, who had been watching the entire exchange. "Why do you have to control yourself? I thought you didn't have kids. And did Harry just call you Ginevra?" she asked, her curiosity clearly piqued. Grinning widely, Ginny could see Harry was just as amused at she was. "Harry was teasing me, I don't have children," she explained as she took a seat. "Yes, my name is Ginevra also, though I much rather be called Ginny." Miranda nodded sagely, which set Ginny to smothering her giggles. "I understand," she told her in a tone of long-suffering, which was quite comical on a young girl. "My middle name is Fawnessa, and I hate it more than anything. Dad wanted to name me Fawn, and Mum wanted Vanessa, so they compromised. I'd much rather have had Jane or something." Realizing who she had just talked about, Miranda began viciously stabbing at her salad, leaving Harry and Ginny at a loss. "My brother Ron's middle name is Bilius," Ginny blurted after a moment's silence. "You can't get much worse than that," she added with an encouraging smile. Harry shot her a grateful look. "Sure you can. Bilius could be his first name," he joked. "I guess that is worse," Miranda said slowly, the tension in the room ebbing. She had stopped spearing her salad and was making eye contact with the two of them once more. "You're lucky you're so normal, Harry," she remarked, taking a bite of her pulverized lettuce. Harry and Ginny shared another amused glance. "I guess I am," he said, trying to quickly think of another subject that Miranda could easily talk about. "What's your favorite Quidditch team, Miranda?" He could see Ginny roll her eyes at him, but he ignored that as best he could. Miranda wrinkled her nose a bit.. "Well, I really don't like Quidditch that much, I like Quodpot much better. But if I had to pick a team, I'd pick the Harpies, cause they only let girls play. Isn't that cool?" Ginny jumped to Harry's rescue once again, as he appeared flummoxed that Miranda could prefer Quodpot over Quidditch. "I think it is. You know Alicia, my brother George's wife, used to play for the Harpies. She's still a trainer for them too. She thinks its great fun," she added, taking a bite of her own salad. "I guess it might be fun to play. But it sure is boring to watch," Miranda conceded, finishing off her plate. "Can I go check out the library now? I bet there's a ton of neat books in there." "Sure," Harry agreed with a shake of his head. How did he get stuck with a miniature Hermione? She didn't even like Quidditch! "She's a lot like Hermione," Ginny said, echoing his thoughts. Harry sighed dramatically. "Well, she isn't half as bossy, so there is some hope for her yet," he replied, a smile on his face. Once Miranda had gone off past earshot, Harry was faced with broaching the topic to Ginny, but he wasn't sure how to begin. It'd been hard enough to tell Ron and Hermione of the prophecy, and even though some years had past, it wasn't going to be pleasant. And, she'd probably be angry with him keeping it from her, he realized. It was not a conversation he was going to enjoy in the least. Ginny watched as his face contorted as he debated something. "Spit it out, Harry,"she said softly, acutely aware that her fingers were itching to run themselves through his hair soothingly. He just looked so upset. Letting out the breath he was holding, he reluctantly began. "Well, I wanted to say something, but I don't know how." He paused, then swore vividly. "First I need to tell you something not very many people know. I need you to promise me that what you learn here doesn't leave this room, ok?" "I promise," Ginny swore, becoming even more worried at his outburst. "Basically, there's a prophecy that either Voldemort or I will live when it comes down to it. It's kill or be killed, no way around it. And," he said, drawing an breath, "if I die—" "No!" Ginny interrupted. "You won't die, are you listening to me! You've got so many friends, you are going to make it through this alive. There is no way—" Harry interrupted patiently. "Ginny. I don't want to die, I said if. I have people to think about. And I guess I should have thought of this more before I brought Miranda into it. If I die, Miranda's going to be on her own again." "Oh," Ginny said softly, her mind trying to wrap itself around all this new information. "I, well, I have to ask you for a favor. If I die, I want Miranda somewhere safe. I know this is a lot to ask you, but...could you look out for her? Make sure she ends up someplace safe?" he questioned anxiously. Ginny face was an unreadable mix of emotions. "Of course I would do that, Harry. I'm, I'm honored you would trust me," she said, her voice still soft. The room was quiet. Harry looked at her pale face with concern. Ginny looked pensive, and truth be told, slightly ill. He hadn't wanted to upset her, and he felt a wave of guilt. "What's wrong?" he asked, concerned. "I don't want you to die." Ginny's voice came out in a harsh whisper, and she gritted her teeth, willing herself not to cry. She could see it in her head, Harry's lifeless body, she could hear Tom's voice, and that cold, cold laugh...She flinched when strong arms went around her shoulders. Harry hugged Ginny, which felt odd, but he'd seen Ron do the same to her many times. It wasn't bad, just odd, and he wasn't sure if he'd ever be truly used to giving or receiving hugs. "I have no intention of dying," he said reassuringly. "I just want someone to look after Miranda. Everything's going to be ok, don't worry." "I know, I know," Ginny replied with a sigh. She broke the hug and rose from the table, taking the dishes into the kitchen. She just had to clean something. Rinsing the plates, she sighed again. "It's just so hard, with everyone being in danger all the time. It's so hard to sit by while the people you love could, could....well, you know," she finished lamely. Harry helped put the dishes back in the cupboard. "Yeah, I know," he said with a sigh of his own. He couldn't help but feel guilty for upsetting her, and wanted desperately to bring the light banter from before back. "Well, I have an idea to take your mind off that," he suggested with some foreboding. Ginny's curiosity was peaked. "What?" Harry scuffed a foot against a scuff mark on the floor. "If you want, we can go through some of the portraits in the attic. Only if you want," he added hastily, half-hoping that she wouldn't want to. "Actually, that sounds interesting," she said. "You can get something up on the walls to keep you company too." With a short nod, he lead her up to the attic, glancing in on Miranda in the library. "You're going to have to go to bed soon," he told her. "We've got to get up early." She nodded absently, engrossed in a book, and Harry couldn't help but smile. When he headed up the stairs, his stomach began to twist. He'd never liked talking portraits—too many bad experiences. He highly doubted he'd find any to put on the walls, but maybe Ginny would want one, or know someone who would. Surveying the large attic with a look of delight, Ginny moved to a stack of sheet covered frames leaning up against a dusty trunk. "Should we start here?" she questioned, flopping to the floor casually. He sat reluctantly, bracing himself as she drew the sheet off the first. A tiny landscape. There was a breeze blowing through the flowering trees, and the sun was starting to creep over the tops. Flowers bobbed their heads in a perpetual breeze, and a tiny brook gurgled through the center of the painting. Harry visibly relaxed. "That's rather nice, actually," he commented, thinking about finding someplace in the house for it. Maybe Miranda would enjoy it? Ginny gave him a brilliant smile that made his breath hitch. "It would look lovely if you put it up. Now, that wasn't so bad, was it?" "No," Harry admitted. "But this is only the first. Who knows what horrors we're going to come across," he said dryly. Ginny scowled a bit, and reached for the second. This was an icy woman with a black pompadour that eyed them with disdain. "What do you want?" she snapped, her period clothing revealing its age. Ginny quickly covered it with a sheet again. "She seemed rather unpleasant. Maybe she can go to Hogwarts," she remarked, making another pile on the floor. Harry reached for the third at the same time as Ginny, starting when his hand brushed against hers. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, and was pleased to see a faint color in her cheeks. Trying not to grin, he looked at the sheet, almost afraid to draw it. Ginny recovered before Harry, steeling herself and pushing her embarrassment away. She reached for the sheet, as it looked like he wouldn't, and her eyebrows disappeared into her hairline in shock. "Harry, it's you!" she exclaimed. And it was. A smiling baby Harry gurgled and crawled around a nursery that had probably been at Godric's Hollow. "Uh, I guess this was Sirius' when he lived here," he muttered quietly, feeling awkward and covering it with the sheet. Ginny flinched a bit, wondering if he was angry that she wanted to look at the portraits. "Don't throw it away, at least," she said logically, setting it next to the uncovered landscape. His jaw was clenched, and Ginny was uncertain. Should she go for the next painting, or let it all go? Harry actually reached for the next one, pulling the sheet off bravely. It was a Medieval scene, with a bunch of laughing children dancing around a maypole. One girl looked on, wearing a crown of flowers, and a pair of small boys were chasing a dog throughout the whole scene. He studied it for a moment, feeling calm once again. "This would be better in Miranda's room than the landscape," he commented, waving at the children who had turned to wave at them. Setting it aside with the landscape, Ginny bit her lip. "Are you sure you want to keep doing this?" she questioned gently. "Yes," Harry nodded. "I have to, eventually. I'd rather be doing it with someone like you," he told her honestly. She was sitting there with wide eyes, her lip between her teeth, and he was finding it more than difficult to focus on the portraits. She flushed again and looked down. "Thank you," she said, pulling a sheet off the next frame, and peering at it intently. A man in his early twenties blinked at them, closing the book that he held. He looked to be dated sometime around the turn of the century, and he greeted them with a friendly grin that had a hint of Sirius around the mouth and chin. He'd evidently left some of his personality with this portrait. "Hullo there, I'm Edward Black, at your service." Harry gave a short nod, disconcerted, but going along with it. "Harry Potter." "Ginny Weasley," Ginny introduced. Edward's brows creased in thought, then cleared in recognition. "Ah, Potter. You're Sirius' godson. I thought the name sounded familiar. You own the house now?" he questioned. Harry nodded, wondering where the conversation was going. He knew Dumbledore had conversations with the portraits in his office, but it was a totally new experience for him. He looked over at Ginny, only to find she was looking at him, leaving him to return his gaze to the man. "Well, I'd like to inform you that I am quite partial to being hung in the library. Most of the books located there are from my own personal collection. I'm quite helpful if you are doing some sort of research," he added helpfully, clearly a bit eager to go back to his coveted position. Ginny tried to smother a laugh. "I think he'd go quite nicely in the library," she told Harry, and received a flirtatious grin from the painting. Harry gave a relaxed smile. "I don't see why that would be a problem, so you'll be back in the library tomorrow, Mr. Black." "Oh, please, call me Edward. And that you so much, I'll be sure to direct you in the organization of the—"his words were cut off as a sheet was thrown over his frame once more. "I thought you were going to put him in the library," Ginny questioned. "I am," Harry replied, setting it in the growing pile. "I just don't want to be here all night with some chatty painting flirting with you and telling me how to organize my books. He and Hermione would get along, maybe I can get her to hang it." Ginny's heart rose at Harry's tiny show of jealousy, and agreed with him. "They would get along. She'll have to come over sometime. She'd love your library." "I was intending to ask her and Ron over on Sunday. Would you like to come over after supper as well?" He asked with a smile. "Alright," Ginny agreed calmly, though she felt like dancing inside. They were good friends, but it was so nice to be included. There were still times when she felt like a total outsider when faced with the united front of the trio. Shaking her head impatiently, she reached for the next sheet. "Wait, what was that?" Harry questioned, amusement written on his face. "What?" Ginny asked, paranoid. She totally missed his amused tone in her panic. Were the wards down? Were they being attacked? Had she failed? Harry grinned. "The head shake," he told her, and she relaxed. "It looked like you were arguing with yourself or something." "Oh, nothing," Ginny returned quickly, still tense, but no longer panicking. His teasing smile grew. "It didn't look like nothing. Come on, Gin, what were you thinking?" he cajoled. Ginny realized he would pester him until he got an answer, and wanted to strangle her brother for passing this trait onto Harry. Hermione's incessant questioning probably hadn't helped either. As calmly as she could, she smoothed her face. "Your bloody fantastic body," she told him with as straight a face as she could manage. Merlin, was she flirting with Harry? She really shouldn't have had that glass of wine at dinner. To her surprise, Harry's cheeks turned a bit red, and he ducked his head momentarily. Shaking his head in disappointment, Harry wagged finger at her. "Such thoughts, Miss Weasley. I am truly shocked at your deportment. Fifty points from Gryffindor and detention with Umbridge," he intoned. Ginny clapped a hand over her mouth, but couldn't stop the giggles from escaping between her fingers. She was gasping for air as she choked out a reply. "That horrid, old cow! I wonder if she still can't hear hoof beats?" she questioned. "I hope so," Harry growled slightly, then lightened. "That was amazing, Fred and George's escape. It's been four years, but no one's forgotten the swamp trick yet." "Mum's still angry. She brings it up every time they row," Ginny remarked. "Though she's become much more reasonable since the shop started doing well." Harry quirked a grin. "Your Mum is one heck of a woman. I don't see how she dealt with you lot for so long." "None of us do," Ginny joked, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "You, my friend, are her favorite son. That should answer any of your questions right there." "Too much Witch Weekly," he quipped in return, liking the easy banter they had going. He'd always found Ginny attractive and great fun to be around, once she'd gotten over her crush, but there was just something different about her now. He shifted away from her slightly, trying to put the proper amount of distance between the two of them. She was probably involved with someone. Every time he was there, she was always bringing some git back to the Burrow for dinner. Ginny laughed along with Harry, and let his sudden change slide. He'd always been uncomfortable with physical displays, something she attributed to his childhood, and felt a burst of anger towards his horrible relatives. While Harry was mostly fine now, he still wasn't normal, and it was all their fault! Picking up another frame, she held it out to Harry, letting him do the honors of unveiling the next. The sheet slid off slowly, and Harry froze, eyes unblinking at the painting in front of him. The color drained from his face as he looked on in a mix of pain, dread, and guilt. Ginny was in shock. Staring hard at the painting, her harsh whisper cut through the air. "Oh, sweet Merlin."
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