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Author: Sherylyn Story: Hearts Afire Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-DH Status: Completed Reviews: 19 Words: 48,067
A/N: This chapter coincides with Chapter 4: Ruining the Moment and Harry's Patented Daydream Charm from St Margaret's New Zealand Chronicles. Harry felt his insides freeze as they both realized what had happened. The sense of intimacy and completeness that had enveloped them only moments before disappeared instantly. He looked at Ginny, meeting her startled, fearful gaze with his own. Swallowing down his own panic, he wrapped his arms tighter around her and pressed a kiss against her hair. "I'm sorry," he whispered, unable to think of anything else to say. "It's not your fault, Harry. He shouldn't have been intruding on us like that." She looked up at him then, and he could see that familiar determination in her eyes now instead of the apprehension of before. She straightened in his arms. "Whatever happens, we'll deal with it," she said quietly. He nodded, rather distractedly, as he lifted a hand to gently stroke her hair. Ginny kissed him again, a quick but reassuringly tender caress of her lips against his. "Let's get back to the house. Mum probably has dinner ready by now." They gathered up their things and went back to The Burrow, scarcely speaking. Harry couldn't think of anything to actually say out loud, while his brain was completely consumed by worry over what the photographer might have captured on film, and a growing anger over the intrusion into one of the few places he and Ginny had previously had any sort of privacy. Dinner was a quiet affair, but they managed to hide their concerns from Molly and Arthur enough to avoid arousing suspicion. The entire meal-time was rather a blur in Harry's memory. He wasn't quite sure what they'd talked about, or even what they'd eaten, but he did know that there hadn't been any worried glances between Ginny's parents, or any awkward questions about what might be wrong. Harry felt ever more heartsick when it was time to say goodbye to Ginny later that evening. As they lingered over a good-night kiss, he tried again to reassure her. "If that photographer does anything…" he began, but she shushed him with her fingers against his lips. "I know, Harry. Let's not worry about it till we know what happens." Her voice was calm and soothing, but Harry couldn't let go of his fear that the situation was worse than she believed. She gave him a knowing look. "And don't you dare blame yourself, you hear me?" she added, and he cringed involuntarily. "I knew it! It is not your fault, Harry, and don't you think it is, no matter what." He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck, feeling the tension there beneath his fingers. "I just… I should have been on guard, but I was so caught up in what we were doing…." he mumbled guiltily, and she giggled softly. "We both were, Harry. You're rather irresistible, you know that?" He smiled reluctantly as he wrapped his arms around her again. "I'm glad you think so," he murmured, as he kissed her temple. "Trust me, you are," she smiled, gently caressing his cheek. He turned his head to kiss her hand. "Not nearly as irresistible as you," he answered. She smiled at him again, her eyes shining in the moonlight. "This is the sort of argument that could go on for forever." He couldn't help but grin at her teasing. "Think we'll ever settle the question?" She laughed softly. "Probably not. But we can enjoy trying to prove the other wrong, at least." He nodded, still not quite able to let go of his worries, and kissed her goodnight once more before Apparating back to the twins' flat in Diagon Alley. "Hi, Harry," Ron greeted him once he'd let himself into the flat. "Hi," Harry mumbled in reply, letting his bag with his swimming things drop onto the floor near the door. He glanced around the living area of the flat, but things were rather quiet, which generally meant that the twins weren't in residence. He was grateful for that fact, since he wasn't in the right frame of mind to deal with the twins. He knew Ron would realize something was going on, and he was already bracing himself for the explosion when he told Ron what had happened. He didn't need Fred and George adding to the situation, and really wasn't ready to confide something like this to them, either. Ron was sitting in an armchair, one of the books that Dow had required open on his lap, but he looked up curiously as his best mate flopped down unceremoniously onto the sofa. Harry scowled as his thoughts circled back to that bloody photographer. Was there some way he could find out who the bloke was and get that film from him? How he could do it, he didn't know, but it didn't stop him from wishing it were possible. Yanking off his glasses, he tossed them carelessly onto the table beside the sofa, ignoring the clatter they produced. He didn't care if he couldn't see as well without them. He just wanted to let himself escape into that unfocussed world for a while. He rubbed his hands roughly over his face, groaning in frustration as he did so. "What's wrong?" Ron asked, watching Harry knowingly. Harry shook his head. "You don't want to know," he muttered from behind his hands, letting himself fall backwards to lean against the back of the sofa. "I wouldn't have asked if I didn't," Ron reasoned. "Stop stalling and just tell me," he added. "You look awful, and — as much as I hate to say it — you don't usually look like that after you've been with Ginny." Harry sighed and lowered his hands. "Are the twins home?" he asked cautiously. Ron shook his head as he placed a scrap of parchment in his book, closed it and set it aside. "Still at the shop. Just you and me, so what's up?" Harry sighed again. He knew it was pointless trying to fob off Ron; they knew each other far too well. But he still would rather not tell him. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair distractedly. "Ginny and I were swimming, and we were just…." He felt himself redden and couldn't look at Ron. He knew Ron never cared to hear about what Harry and Ginny did in private, any more than Harry wanted to hear about Ron and Hermione. He gestured rather helplessly, and even without his glasses, they were near enough that he could recognize the expression on Ron's face. Harry closed his eyes and brought his hands upwards so he could rub at his temples. A headache was gathering, and he had the feeling that this one was going to be a prize-winner. "I can imagine, thanks. Why is that bothering you? " Ron asked rather sharply. "Someone took a picture of us," Harry mumbled, still not looking at Ron. "What?!" "Someone took—" "I heard you!" Ron snapped, slamming his book onto the nearby table and leaning forward intently. "Who was it? Who would do that?" he demanded furiously, clenching his hands into fists on top of his knees. His blazing eyes narrowed accusingly. "And just what the hell were you doing to my sister at the time?" he half-shouted as he glared down at his best friend. "Some reporter, obviously. And we were kissing, but we were in our swimming costumes, so...." Harry trailed off, gesturing helplessly again. Harry opened his eyes for a moment, but winced as his headache gave an angry throb. He'd known Ron would explode, but he'd been hoping it wouldn't be directed quite so much toward him and Ginny personally. "I don't know who took it!" he continued, before Ron could get going again. "If I did, I'd be out looking for them rather than sitting here! And we weren't… we weren't doing anything wrong! You make it sound like we were doing something totally indecent, not like… God, Ron, she's your sister! You know we wouldn't have—" He was cut off, though, as Ron interrupted hotly. "But Ginny's swimming costume… I know how she looks in that! I don't care what you were doing, almost any photo will make it look like—" Ron stopped abruptly, then swore loudly before saying, "Merlin, Harry, it will look like you're… bloody hell! How could you both be so stupid?!" "We're not stupid, Ron! We were in the river, and whoever it was, they were trespassing on your family's property, all right?" Harry snapped, leaping to his feet and glaring at Ron in return. "What do you want me to do — put up wards every time Ginny and I are out of the house? Booby-trap the whole place?" He gestured emphatically as he spoke, the anger that'd been simmering all evening finally erupting as he shouted in response. "We can't go anywhere else without those bloody reporters poking their noses in our business, but now we can't even step outside the front door? In case you've forgotten, we're engaged!" Ron opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again when Harry gestured angrily. "If we didn't want to be together, then I'd think we were doing something wrong! And I know quite well it's not as though you've never — done anything, either. I was hoping you'd be more interested in being my friend than in jumping down my throat. But no, you had to immediately go off about how stupid we are!" Ron was visibly fuming. "Harry—" he began angrily, but Harry wasn't interested in arguing any further. "You know what? Just forget it. It's no good even attempting to talk to you!" he snapped, rounding the sofa and moving toward the hallway to the bedrooms. His retreat was abruptly cut off by the unmistakable sounds of the twins' arrival. Harry shot Ron a glare with the implied message of "not a word." Ron glared back, but nodded. However annoyed he was, Ron knew better than to involve anyone else in Harry's private life. A moment later, the door of the flat crashed open and Fred and George entered, both dropping their armfuls of boxes onto the floor by the door. "What's all that?" Ron asked, just as Fred asked, "What're you two doing?" "Nothing," Harry growled, "Absolutely nothing." Still furious, and not really wanting to discuss things any further, he turned on his heel and stormed into their bedroom, giving the door a most satisfying slam as he did so. He could hear the twins' and Ron's voices, but deliberately ignored them as he paced back and forth for several minutes. He randomly threw several items around the room to try to burn off some of his anger and frustration, before finally collapsing onto his bed, staring up at the blurry ceiling. Bugger, I left my glasses in the other room, he thought to himself after a few moments. I'm sure as hell not going back there to get them, though. He rolled onto his side, facing the wall. His head was no longer just throbbing — it felt as if someone were attempting to chisel their way through his skull. Between the pounding of his headache, and the fact that he was still so furious, he couldn't even think straight. No wonder he'd forgotten his glasses. He was angry at Ron, but he was even more angry and frustrated by the whole situation. He and Ginny barely managed to find any way to ever be alone, and now one of the few places where they had been able to find a bit of privacy had been violated. He felt his face burn again as he thought of what he and Ginny had been doing before they'd discovered the presence of the photographer, and a wave of cold dread washed over him. He knew Ginny was hoping that the reporter hadn't been able to get a good picture, and she was resolutely not going to worry aloud over the whole possibility. But they had no idea how long that creep had been there, and it was likely he'd managed to get quite a few shots before they'd noticed him. Harry had been thoroughly sickened by the press repeatedly over the years, but this… this was the worst. This wasn't about anything he'd done as a "public figure", this was about him and Ginny. And once again, he'd failed to protect her. Even though Ron's questioning of his intelligence had added fuel to his anger, he had to admit that he should have been clever enough to put up some privacy spells, at least. He'd known to do that when he and Ginny met up in Hogsmeade, for Merlin's sake, but none of them had ever put up spells like that while so close to The Burrow itself, and it just hadn't occurred to him that someone would violate their privacy there. He growled and pulled a pillow over his face. He'd never felt more like screaming in frustration, and for just a moment, he had the wild idea to conjure curtains around his bed like he'd had at Hogwarts, just so he could retreat from everyone around him. This was one time he had no desire to be around any of Ginny's brothers, but it wasn't as if he had another option at the moment. After a few more moments of trying to calm his whirling thoughts, he groaned and sat up, punching the pillow for good measure as he did so. He kicked off his trainers and then quickly stripped off his jeans and t-shirt, not paying any attention to where his clothes actually ended up. He grabbed his pyjamas and tugged them on automatically, then snatched up his toilet bag and headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed. After he'd brushed his teeth, he splashed his face with cold water, trying in vain to help his headache go away. At least it did seem to help cool his anger a bit. He finished drying his face and gathered up his things, preparing to head back to his bed and try to get some sleep. "Harry?" Fred called from the living room as Harry stepped out of the bathroom. "Yeah?" He paused in the hallway outside the bedroom. "We're having a beer. Come join us," George called. "No thanks, I—" Harry began, but Fred interrupted him. "If anyone needs one, mate, it's you—" "—so get in here. Landlords' orders," George added. Before he could protest further, a bottle of beer came zooming down the hall towards his head and he caught it with his free hand, purely by reflex. "Got your beer?" Fred's voice. "Yeah," Harry answered with a snort. "No excuses then—" George. "—get your arse in here and join the family." Fred. Harry sighed, tossed his bag onto this bed from the doorway and headed into the living area. He still didn't really have any desire to be around anyone else, but he didn't want to continue the earlier argument, either. Choosing the lesser of two evils, he joined the brothers. Fred and George were sitting in the armchairs. Ron was on the sofa, which meant he also had to sit on the sofa, unless he wanted to sit on the floor. He sat at the other end of the sofa and stared moodily at his socks as he sipped his beer. The brothers were discussing the Midnight Quidditch League and their opponents for their next match. Harry didn't even know who they'd be playing, and couldn't summon enough interest to care. After a few moments, he sighed and leaned against the back of the sofa, closing his eyes as he did so. "So, Harry…" George began. Harry wearily opened his eyes. His head was still pounding, and he really didn't feel like keeping up with the almost-boundless energy of the twins. "—Ron was wondering about something—" Fred put in. "Oi! I was not!" Ron interjected, but he was drowned out by George continuing, "—if you meant for him—" "—to sleep on the sofa tonight, dear," ended Fred, in his best imitation of Percy-at-his-most-pompous. Harry snorted and darted a look at Ron, wondering if he'd told the twins what their argument was about. Ron met his gaze steadily for a moment, silently conveying that he hadn't said a word, then rolling his eyes at the twins' antics. Harry felt a reluctant smirk tug at his mouth, but he managed a fair imitation of Hermione as he responded, "Oh, honestly, Ronald—" he began, but Ron playfully smacked him with a cushion. "Shut it, you," Ron grumbled good-naturedly, and Harry managed a slight chuckle, almost against his will, as he set his beer on the near-by table. He propped his elbows on his knees, his head in his hands as he massaged his temples, trying to ease the pain that was haunting him. "Headache?" Ron asked, taking a swig of beer. Harry nodded, moving one hand around to the back of his neck and rubbing there instead. "Have you taken anything for it?" George asked. Harry shook his head, but before he could reply further, George swished his wand and a small, dark-blue bottle flew through the air and smacked into his hand. "Take that," he ordered, levitating it towards Harry. Harry looked at him doubtfully, fully aware of how risky it was to take anything from the twins. Fred snorted. "It's from the apothecary, Harry. We take it ourselves. Believe me, the way we've been working lately, we've been taking it like it's going out of fashion, too." "All right, but you'd better not be trying to pull a fast one…." He let his sentence trail off, but he opened the small bottle and drank the potion. The taste alone was enough to confirm to him that it was exactly what the twins had proclaimed it to be. He felt a slight bubbly sensation in his scalp as the potion worked, and his headache seemed to mostly evaporate within moments. The sudden lessening of pain was such a relief that he sighed and closed his eyes briefly in order to more fully appreciate the sensation. He opened his eyes again a few moments later to see George giving him a knowing smirk over the top of his beer bottle. Harry shook his head. "Thanks," he acknowledged, but couldn't resist adding, "You have to admit, though, with you two, I think you only tell the truth occasionally just to keep people on their toes." Fred laughed. "Too right," he nodded, taking a drink as well. "Besides," George added, "if we never told the truth, people might think we're predictable." He and Fred both gave mock-shudders at the thought, and Harry and Ron chuckled. They talked a bit more as they all finished their drinks, then Fred and George went off to put away some of the supplies they'd brought in. Ron and Harry headed to bed shortly thereafter. As they settled into their beds, Ron looked over at Harry. "Am I forgiven, then?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow questioningly. Harry raised an eyebrow in return. "I suppose that depends whose side you're on in this whole mess." Ron snorted as he punched his pillow into a more desirable position. "I'm on yours, you prat. Haven't you figured that out by now?" Harry sighed and nodded. "I know, it's just… I get so tired of it all," he admitted, rolling onto his back. "And… it's Ginny. I can't even protect her from the damned press!" He sighed and raked his hands through his hair in frustration. "What kind of husband am I going to make...." He trailed off, shaking his head. "Harry. You know Ginny's not marrying you because you keep her out of the press. Or in it, for that matter." "I know, I know...." Harry sighed again and rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. "How's your headache?" Ron asked, obviously noticing Harry's actions. "Better, at least." They were both silent for a few minutes before Ron cleared his throat and asked, "So… you wanna talk about it now?" Harry stared blearily at the wall opposite him as he fidgeted with his covers. "Not much else to say, really. I just can't… as many times as they've caused problems, I still can't imagine… I don't want to imagine pictures of us — you know, kissing — where everyone can see them." He shook his head slightly. "Merlin — your parents! Your mum's going to go ballistic! And your brothers....!" He sighed again, then looked at Ron hesitantly. "How will I ever explain this to your family?" Ron shrugged. "Dad'll be more worried about what that berk was doing to intrude on you two like that. Mum'll probably have a fit, but then she won't be mad at you and Ginny so much as the papers." Harry let one arm drop across his eyes. "You're not helping!" he groaned. "Sorry. You asked." Harry shifted restlessly, folding both arms behind his head. "I'm doomed, aren't I?" he muttered. Ron rolled over, facing Harry, looking at him thoughtfully for a moment, and Harry recognised his expression of trying to out-strategise the opposing forces. "You might not be. I mean, I'm not going to tell you it's no big deal or anything, but… it's possible the guy didn't get a decent picture, or… hang on, you said the guy was on our property? It's illegal to do something like that — maybe they won't be able to publish something if they know it'll get them in legal trouble." Harry groaned as he shook his head. "When has that ever stopped them? Rita Skeeter was an illegal Animagus, for Merlin's sake! If Hermione hadn't made that deal with her, Rita could have been in serious trouble for all she'd done, if we could have proved it." He half-sat up, propping himself up on one elbow. "That's going to be the biggest problem — being able to prove that the guy was trespassing when he took the pictures. And there's no telling how many he took. He could have been there almost the whole time we were swimming. We only knew he was there when he started to leave." Ron's one-word reply was one that would have drawn an instantaneous reproach from Molly and Hermione. "Yeah," Harry agreed. "That about sums it up." Ron yawned as he turned out the lamp and then pulled his covers up over his shoulders. "Sounds like we're not exactly going to solve this one tonight, mate. Might as well get some sleep." "Yeah," Harry mumbled, lying down again and tugging at his own covers. "G'night." "G'night," Ron murmured, half-asleep already. Harry rolled over, facing the wall this time. He couldn't help but let his mind drift back over the evening's events. It had been such a lovely time with Ginny, and he'd relished being with her. As much as he'd enjoyed the physical pleasures of being with Ginny that way, though, he knew better than to let himself dwell on that aspect too much at that moment, especially with Ron so nearby. Sighing restlessly, he wriggled onto his stomach, willing himself to go to sleep, but he couldn't stop thinking about that heart-stopping moment when they'd realised the photographer was there, and his worries about what would happen once those photos were published. He had no doubt he'd be seeing himself and Ginny in the papers soon. It was just a matter of how long it'd take for the photographer's legal team to make sure they'd covered their arses. His thoughts ran together in maddening circles, and he tossed and turned repeatedly before sleep finally overtook him. ***** Ron shook him awake after what seemed like only a few minutes, at the most. "Time's it?" he asked groggily, reaching towards his table for his glasses, but not finding them. He raised up onto his elbow to peer more closely at the table. No glasses. "7:20," Ron answered. "You'd better hurry, or we'll be late, and Dow will kill us with extra laps." Harry groaned and sat up. "You see my glasses?" he asked, squinting to try to look between their beds better. "Nope. I'll find 'em. You get dressed," Ron replied, pulling his wand from the pocket of his robes. Harry nodded, grabbed up his toilet bag and headed for the bathroom. He showered and dressed as quickly as he could, and hurried towards their room to finish getting ready. "Here," Ron greeted him, handing him his glasses as they passed in the doorway. "Thanks." Harry hurriedly put on his glasses, tossed his bag onto his bed and started hunting for his shoes. He had no idea where he'd kicked them to last night, and the idea of finding them reminded him of why he'd been in such a mood the night before. He swore under his breath as he raked a hand through his still-damp hair. "C'mon, Harry! Dow's going to kick our arses to the moon and back if we're late!" Ron bellowed from the kitchen area. "I'm hurrying!" Harry shouted back. "I can't… find… my… damn… shoes….!" he puffed, frantically looking through the piles of dirty clothes and books and assorted other belongings that had accumulated in their room. Ron reappeared in the doorway. "Harry. Harry!" Harry jerked upwards, whacking his head on the bed frame. "Ow! Damnit! What?" he growled, rubbing the top of his head. Ron rolled his eyes and swished his wand. Harry's shoes soared out from behind the wardrobe and flew towards Ron, who caught them easily. "Magic," Ron smirked. "Ever heard of it?" "Oh ha bloody ha," Harry muttered, grabbing his shoes out of Ron's hands and hastily stuffing his feet into them. "Wanna tie 'em, too, while you're at it?" "If it'll get your arse out that door, you bet," Ron grinned, flicking his wand again, and tying Harry's shoelaces. "Ow...." Harry grumbled as they headed down the hallway and he struggled to pull on his robe. "You tied 'em too tight." Ron just sniggered and handed Harry a couple of pieces of toast. "Beggars shouldn't be choosers," he replied, ducking out of range of Harry's attempt to smack him. With a nod of acknowledgement to each other, they Apparated to the Ministry, and hastily joined the queue waiting for the lifts. "Fanks anyway," Harry mumbled as he struggled to get a bite of toast down without having anything to drink. He flicked his wand with the hand not holding his toast, and at least solved the problem with his shoes. "Why didn't you wake me up sooner?" Ron shrugged as the queue crept forwards. "Didn't think you got a lot of sleep last night," he answered, his voice carefully neutral. Harry shook his head, looked around and then silently cast Muffliato so they could talk privately. "Didn't feel like it, at least. Did you see any papers this morning?" "Only the Prophet; there wasn't anything there." Harry swore. "Great… it's not bad enough that they're invading our privacy, now I've got to have that hanging over my head for Merlin knows how long." Ron nodded. "I know. Sorry, mate." "Not your fault," Harry sighed as he finished his toast and they moved forwards a bit more. "If I make it through this day, it'll be a miracle." He could already tell that his headache was determined to make a repeat appearance. ***** The day seemed to last forever. They moved through a series of presentations by Aurors who lectured about different subjects, spell-firing drills and physical manoeuvres that taxed every particle of mind and body. Harry alternated between being glad of the distractions and furiously wishing he could practice some of these newer spells on that photographer. It was only for short periods of time that he ever seemed to completely get the situation out of his mind, no matter how demanding the lessons were. When they were finally dismissed for the day, he and Ron headed to the changing rooms with the rest of the recruits and quickly showered, tossing their wet-with-sweat exercise clothes into the hampers for the Ministry's house-elves to deal with. "So what are you doing this evening?" Ron asked as they dressed again in their own clothes. Harry sighed as he pulled his shirt over his head. "I guess I'll go to The Burrow. Ginny and your parents will be expecting me. Don't feel much like swimming, though," he added, and Ron scowled at the mention of the idea. The thought alone was enough to make Harry's stomach turn and his headache throb even more painfully. "Want to come with?" he asked, almost as an after-thought. "You know your mum would want you, and it'd help keep things from getting too awkward." Especially with the headache he'd been dealing with for what seemed like forever, another evening trying to act like he had no worries of any sort seemed an almost-impossible task. Ron thought about it for a moment, then nodded. "Yeah. Okay. I'll need to leave soon after we eat, though — I've got some things to do." "Thanks," Harry said fervently. As much as he wanted to see Ginny, and enjoyed Arthur and Molly's company, he wasn't looking forward to trying to keep up appearances when he was so pre-occupied with those impending photos. ***** Harry begged off swimming with Ginny once they'd arrived at The Burrow. "I know I need practice," he said quietly, and with as much patience as he could muster, as they wandered hand-in-hand towards the orchard. Molly had shooed them all out of the kitchen as soon as he and Ron had arrived. Ron had gone off with his dad to Arthur's shed, and he and Ginny had set off to find as much privacy as they could for the moment. "I just really don't feel like it tonight, Gin, okay?" She studied him for a moment, then asked, "Is something else bothering you, besides the obvious?" "It's nothing—" he began, but at her knowing look, he amended, "I mean, it's nothing you need to worry about, okay? It was just — a shock, to know that photographer was there last night, and I'm really tired tonight and I'd just rather not, okay?" "All right," she agreed, sinking onto the soft grass beneath one of the trees. He had the feeling that she was letting the matter drop for his sake, more than anything else, and that she had at least decided not to continue fretting about it aloud. He knew that Molly was the one who usually worried about everything under the sun, but Ginny generally kept such thoughts to herself until she was ready to share them. She either had decided not to worry about the issue at all, or just didn't want to keep discussing it in circles. Deciding to follow her lead yet again, he dropped down beside her and wrapped his arms around her, holding her against his chest as he leaned back against the tree trunk. He nuzzled against her temple, gently kissed her jaw. "How was your day?" he asked as she stroked her fingertips along his hands and forearms. "It was nice, actually. Mum and I went into the village to finalise some of the plans for the reception," Ginny answered, tilting her head as his lips moved down her neck. "Mmm… nice," Harry murmured, and Ginny giggled. "Did you hear what I said, or not?" she teased. "Hmm?" For the first time that day, Harry was blissfully unaware of anything worrying him. Ginny giggled again and shifted, leaning back and pulling him around towards her. Harry willingly moved with her until they were lying together on the carpet of grass, kissing leisurely. "How was your day?" she asked several minutes later when they finally took a break to properly catch their breath. "Busy. Tiring. Made me even more certain I don't want to do it," Harry answered, running his fingers through her hair. Ginny smiled teasingly. "Can't say that I imagine the search-and-rescue course is going to be a walk in the park," she answered. "I know," he sighed, and flopped over on to his back. "But it's just — it just seems right, somehow. Like it… fits better." Ginny rolled towards him, propping herself on her elbow beside him and toying with the fabric of his t-shirt in the centre of his chest. "I know what you mean," she said slowly. "I never thought that working at St Mungo's was exactly what I wanted, but I couldn't ever think of anything else I wanted to do more, either." Harry nodded. "Yeah, that's it exactly. I want to do something meaningful, and I think that's why being an Auror appealed to me, but now… there's a better option." He reached up lazily to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. Ginny's eyes met his, mischief sparkling in her gaze. "Hmm… better option? Better than what?" Harry chuckled. "Nothing. There's no better option than being here right now," he answered, grinning as Ginny leaned towards him. He kissed her rather quickly, then added, "At least not until our wedding night." Ginny laughed and leaned in for another kiss… and another…. They were still exploring their better options when Molly called them in to eat. As they headed towards the house, Harry remembered why he'd wanted Ron to come along, and he found he couldn't quite maintain the good mood Ginny had evoked in him. He was still worried, and felt as if he were waiting for something to drop on him… he just couldn't see exactly how and what was about to fall. ***** By the time Harry Apparated back to the flat in Diagon Alley, he was convinced that his headache had become a permanent fixture in his life. In spite of his efforts to appear as though all was perfectly normal, both Molly and Ginny had questioned him about feeling well. When he'd finally admitted to the headache, Molly had promptly given him a dose of the familiar potion and insisted that he take a similar potion before bed to ensure a "good night's sleep." He'd had to refrain from snorting in response to that, but had reluctantly promised to do as she'd asked. Ginny hadn't mentioned the photographer again since he'd justified his opposition to swimming, even when they'd taken a walk shortly after Ron's departure. Harry hated to harp on it, and if Ginny was truly managing to put it out of her mind, then he didn't want to make her worry again just because he was. Torn, he'd finally convinced himself that it was best to not bring it up, and hope that his fears — for once — were unfounded. It wasn't terribly late, but the lack of sleep the night before was catching up with him, and he decided to try to sleep early, especially if Molly's second potion really would help. He got ready for bed, took Molly's potion and was soon sound asleep. Thankfully. ***** He was rudely awakened the next morning by a horrific noise from elsewhere in the flat, and he bolted upright in bed. Ron wasn't in the room, and Harry lost no time in running to the kitchen, wand in hand. He found the twins and Ron gathered around the table, which was strewn with newspapers. Without even getting a good look at the papers yet, Harry swore. Ron looked up, a gobsmacked expression on his face. "Harry! You were — you — she — You didn't tell me you were doing THAT!" "What?" Harry demanded, reaching towards the papers on the table. "Potter, would you like to explain just what the hell you were doing with our sister?" a voice demanded. Harry had finally got a good look at some of the papers, and he couldn't even think clearly enough now to decipher who'd spoken to him. He swore again as he snatched up one of the papers. "What the — how can they print this?" he managed to spit out. He didn't know when he'd ever been more furious. The pictures were… they were worse than he'd imagined, even worse than he'd feared. He gulped back a surge of emotion and looked up at the three shocked and angry faces before him. "We're not — we weren't — I swear we weren't doing what this—" He stopped as movement from another paper caught his eye. He grabbed it up and stared. There was a white blob where Ginny's breast should be, and his hand — he felt himself redden. "Who did this?" he hissed, abruptly focussing on one objective in the midst of all this. "We haven't wanted to look closely enough to find out," Fred snapped. "Harry… you said there was a photographer," Ron began haltingly, "You said you were kissing. You never said you were both—" He seemed to choke on his words, and he waved a hand helplessly at the pile of papers between them. "Why are all these here?" Harry asked, suddenly aware of just how many versions of him and Ginny there were before him. "We advertise our Saturday specials in them," George answered, his voice just as icy as Fred's. "So we subscribe to them all." Harry nodded numbly as he watched a corner of one paper soaking up the tea from the cup in front of Ron. Ron glanced down at the paper and blanched visibly. "I think I'm going to be sick," he moaned, closing his eyes tightly. "You think that's sickening?" George growled. "Just wait till all those blokes in your training unit get sight of these. You two will never hear the end of it!" "Not to mention the Quidditch teams we play against. Just think how well they're all going to use this against all of us!" Fred added, gesturing at the pile of papers in disgust. Harry groaned and dropped his head onto the table. "I'm going to kill them," he said hoarsely. "I'm just going to kill them all and be done with it." He looked up at the twins. "Do you two have anything in stock that'll blow up every one of those damn papers?" "Harry, you can't do that!" Ron protested weakly. "Why not? They've twisted everything about me for years! Why can't I do just one thing in response?" Harry shouted, jumping to his feet. "Because you'll only make matters worse!" Ron responded, his voice almost as loud as Harry's. "Worse?!" Harry gave a sharp bark of mirthless laughter. "What's worse than them publishing pictures like this? What's worse than what they said about us when Ginny was in hospital?" "They'll say you're completely off your trolley — again. Do you want to give them that ammunition too?" Ron challenged. "I don't care what they say about me!" Harry waved a hand dismissively as he paced the small kitchen. "This is about what they'll say about Ginny! Look at those headlines — they already think — they think… God, I can't even say it!" "Well, they certainly have no problem saying all sorts of things about her," Fred put in. "Do you think any of us like this?" George asked. "It's not as if you've cornered the market on being sick of the whole thing!" Ron added. "She's my fiancée!" Harry bellowed. "She's our sister!" Ron shouted, standing up and leaning even closer to Harry. "And we're not going to let you go flying off the handle!" "Oh yeah? Just watch me!" Harry snarled, shoving Ron aside and heading towards the door of the flat. "Harry, wait!" Ron bolted after him and grabbed him before he could even get the door open. "Let go! I'm tired of just letting them get away with doing and saying anything they want!" Harry ranted, jerking his arm free of Ron's grip. "I know, Harry! None of us like this any more than you do!" Ron responded, just as loudly. "Ginny almost died, and all they could do was twist around everything about us! What do you think they're going to say now?" Harry shouted, struggling to get past Ron to the door, but Ron's height advantage was keeping him from his goal. "Harry—" George began. "Don't!" Harry snapped. "Don't even begin to tell me not to do something about it this time! I didn't do anything before, but this is — this is too much!" "Harry—" Fred put in. "What?" He spun to face them. "Don't you think you ought to get dressed before you storm the castle?" George asked, quirking an eyebrow at him. Harry stared at the three brothers for a moment, nonplussed, then drew a shaky breath and nodded. "Okay, okay," he muttered, stomping towards the bedroom. "But don't think I'm not going to do something this time." "We'll be glad to help, once you're dressed," Fred called down the hall after him. Ron, who was also still in his pyjamas, followed Harry into the bedroom. Harry sat down on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. "I can't believe this," he muttered. "I knew he was there, but I can't believe… this is a nightmare!" "I know," Ron said quietly as he stripped off his pyjama top and reached for his t-shirt. "I'm sorry, mate. I mean… I never wanted to see my sister…" He paused and shuddered visibly before tugging on his shirt. "…or you, for that matter," he added, with just a hint of a smirk. Harry glared at Ron as he stood up again and pulled off his own pyjamas. "I'm glad you can laugh at this," he said bitterly, digging some clothes out of the wardrobe. "Hey. I'm on your side, remember?" Ron answered, nudging him with his elbow. Harry sighed. "I know. It's just—" he paused and pulled on his jeans. "I don't know what else to do," he finished quietly, sitting down on his bed again. "They keep doing stuff like this, and we keep telling them not to somehow — your dad even talked to someone at St Mungo's when they were printing that rubbish in April — but… nothing changes. They keep getting worse, if anything." Ron looked thoughtful for a moment. "Let's talk to Dad again before you go off and get yourself in legal trouble as well," he suggested. "Maybe we ought to talk to Percy, too, for that matter — he always knows all sorts of rules and regulations that no one else even knows exist." "Your dad isn't going to want to help me after — after that," Harry jerked his head towards the kitchen. "Hell, he probably doesn't want me anywhere around any of you by now," he muttered, not able to look in Ron's direction just then. Ron snorted and sat down on his own bed, facing Harry. "You prat. Haven't you worked out by now that you're family, even if you don't have red hair? Of course they'll help you. Not to mention that they'll want to help Ginny in all this, you know." Harry stared at the shirt in his hands, not even seeing it any more. Family. He sighed again. In the middle of all this, Ron still claimed he was family. Ron was silent for a moment, then said, "I'm going to send Dow an owl and tell him we won't be in today. You get dressed, okay?" Harry nodded numbly. As Ron opened the door of their room, he looked up. "Ron?" "Yeah?" "Thanks," Harry mumbled softly. Ron just nodded and went out, closing the door behind him. It was a good thing Ron was thinking clearly enough to remember about training. There was no way in hell that Harry was going to deal with those other recruits today. Some of them were almost as goon-like as Crabbe and Goyle had always been with Malfoy, and he didn't even want to think about what sort of comments he was going to have to deal with once they did go back to the Ministry. Harry flopped backwards onto his bed. God, could this day get any worse? On second thought, he really didn't want to know the answer to that. He lay there for several moments, just trying to get his brain to properly engage so that he could begin to formulate a plan for dealing with the press. He wished fervently that Hermione wasn't so far away that they couldn't even get messages to her easily. They certainly needed her brains now. Eventually, he gave up for the moment, sat up and finished getting dressed. He was just tying his trainers when Ron reappeared, looking a bit puzzled. "What's wrong?" Harry asked. "The twins aren't here. And they're not in the shop — I looked." "What? Do you think they went to the papers?" "I don't know — it looks like they took the papers with them." Harry stared at Ron, completely perplexed. "But why would they—?" "I don't know… it's weird…" They stared at each other for a moment, but then both suddenly heard the loud cracks of Apparation. It seemed the twins had returned. Harry and Ron hurried into the living room to find the twins sitting on the sofa, wearing identical scowls. "Where have you been?" Ron demanded. "At The Burrow," Fred replied. "The Burrow? What for?" Harry asked. "We went to see Ginny," George answered. "What?!" Harry and Ron squawked almost in unison. "WHY?!" Harry demanded. "We wanted to see what she had to say about those pictures," Fred answered. "Thought she should know what's going on—" "—get an accurate account of the news." Harry stared at the twins, his mouth open. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. "You didn't," he said faintly. When both Fred and George looked at him defiantly, Harry found his anger returning full-force. "You DIDN'T!" he bellowed. "What the bloody hell did you do that for?" "She needed to know what was going on," George said determinedly. "And she needed to know why she was getting those letters," Fred added. "Letters?" Harry echoed. "What letters?" Ron asked. "Letters. Piles of letters from people who've seen the papers—" Fred began. "Some Howlers. Mostly wanting to know—" George continued. "—what a tart like her was doing with a hero like Harry-bloody-Potter." "Oh. Hell. No," Harry moaned, sinking onto a chair. No doubt about it — things could get worse. Now there were people — strangers! — writing to Ginny about being with him. Both twins nodded grimly. Harry was so angry he was almost shaking. Those horrible creatures that pretended to be human so they could write about and photograph other people and invade their privacy and hurt them and humiliate them and… "They can't… they can't get away with this!" Harry shouted suddenly, leaping to his feet and heading towards the door. "NO!" Voices shouted behind him, but he was faster this time. He was out the door and racing down the stairs towards the shop. He'd duck around a corner and Apparate to the Prophet. He'd start there. Feet thundered down the stairs after him. He leapt off the last steps and sprinted towards the back room of the still-dimly-lit shop. But then — he felt something hit him around the knees, and he fell hard onto the floor of the shop. He looked towards his feet, expecting to see one of his future brothers-in-law. Instead, all he saw was the fading blue glow of a spell. A Tripping Jinx! They'd actually jinxed him! Snarling, he flicked his wand and terminated the spell, just as he saw Fred's head appear around the corner. Harry fired off a Stinging Hex almost before he'd actually identified who he was seeing. Fred ducked back, but Harry heard a yelp as his spell made contact with someone. "Harry, stop! We just want to talk before you do something stupid!" Ron called. "I'm not stopping this time! They've gone too far!" Harry called back, just as an Incarcerous spell shot around the corner towards him. Harry dodged it and rolled over to cast an Avis charm in the direction of the brothers, sending a stream of canaries in their direction. He heard another yelp before someone ended his spell. "Cut it out, guys! I'm not kidding!" "Neither are we, Harry," George answered. Harry thought he could hear movement from somewhere nearby, but couldn't tell for sure, with George talking. "We're trying to make sure you don't make anything worse!" "Worse?!" Harry gave a snort of bitter laughter. "How much worse does it have to get before I'm allowed to do anything?" Just in time, he caught a glimpse of spell-fire out of his peripheral vision, and dived for cover behind a large box near the storeroom as he silently cast a Shield Charm around himself for good measure. He wasn't sure which spell had flown past him, but he wasn't going to take chances. Someone had sneaked around to his right, so that meant it was likely someone else had gone to his left. He groaned inwardly. He wanted to get out of this bloody shop and go do some serious hexing and cursing and swearing (for good measure, of course) at every bloody paper in the wizarding world. Or at least, any of them who'd had anything to do with those damned pictures. A moment later, though, another spell slammed into him, knocking him against the wall. He felt the breath whoosh out of him as he did so, and he slumped down the wall involuntarily. Another spell flew over his head, and he mentally growled at his friends who were casting at him. A few moments later, he was able to gasp in a welcome breath. And just in time. He heard Fred fire off a Hives Hex and he dodged, but felt it sting across the back of his shoulders. Stifling a groan, he wasted several moments attempting to cast the counter-hex, but he couldn't get his arm to an angle that would allow him to completely get rid of the hives he could feel spreading across his upper back. Snarling with frustration, he lay down on the floor and wriggled towards where he'd last known Fred to be. Instead, he saw Ron approaching from another direction, and he fired off a Bat-Bogey Hex in his direction. Ron squawked and stumbled backwards into a pile of boxes as Harry's hex connected, and George shot off the counter-hex at Ron. Harry now knew where both George and Ron were, at least, and he quickly shifted positions, fired off two more hexes in their directions, then dashed and rolled to another position. He heard George crash against something, but could no longer see him well enough to know where he'd landed. A moment later, though, a Stinging Hex connected with his left leg, and he couldn't completely suppress a yelp himself. "Harry, c'mon, mate — stop it!" Ron called. "We're just trying to help!" "Yeah, right!" Harry snarled. "I wasn't the one who started this, you know!" "Are you ready to listen to reason?" George asked. "Reason?" Harry scoffed. "I'm not reasoning with you lot! I'm going to do something about all this for once!" "That's the problem, Harry-kins," Fred called, almost tauntingly. "We can't let you do that." "How do you plan to stop me, then?" Harry challenged. "Together," Ron answered, and — to Harry's amazement — all three of them stepped out of hiding, their wands held ready, but not in a threatening position. "What are you doing?" Harry asked warily, moving only slightly away from the pile of boxes he'd taken cover behind. "You're too unstable to go off to those papers like this," Fred began. "'Unstable!'" Harry sputtered. "I'm not—" "You'll only get even more bad publicity for you two," George added. "What about what they've already—" "You're going to have to stop and cool off," Ron added. There was a cut on Ron's cheek, Harry could see, and George seemed to be limping as they moved slightly closer. Harry edged backwards, keeping the distance between them all. We shouldn't be doing this, he thought bitterly, they should be helping me hex those idiots at the papers, not trying to hex me! He caught a flicker of movement from Fred and dodged, but not in time to completely avoid the hex that spun him against the wooden boxes behind him. He slammed against them painfully, his left arm taking the brunt of the blow in what was surely going to leave a bone-deep bruise. Grunting in pain, he spun back around to cast a Squid Hex at Fred, somehow still remembering to not put every bit of magical power into the spell that he could. He wanted to get past these prats, not leave them marked for ages the way he'd always done with Malfoy and his goons. Fred gave a strangled yelp as tentacles sprang from his skin and began squeezing him. Two of the larger ones wrapped around his neck and he struggled to free himself from them. Then, he suddenly clutched at the ones on his neck, staring wild-eyed and gaping silently, his eyes darting back and forth between George and Harry, visibly panicking. "Harry! You're choking him! Call it off!" George cried, rushing toward Fred to help. Harry hesitated, but George looked back at him again. "Harry, quick! Stop it!" he pleaded, and Harry flicked his wand, ending the spell. There were still a few tentacles sprouting out of Fred's skin, but they'd disappear before too long. Harry took a half-step toward Fred. "You okay?" he asked as Fred gasped for air. Before he could move another inch, Ron's wand snapped up towards him and he felt a low-level Stunner hit him in the face. He fell backwards, landing hard on the concrete floor as all three brothers' wands suddenly made a simultaneous movement and three voices barked, "Petrificus Totalus!" They levitated him into the storeroom, reassuring him that they knew what they were doing, that they were really trying to help, that they had good reasons, that they really wished this wasn't necessary… Harry wished he could just tell them all to go stuff themselves, but since he couldn't talk… he was left to fume silently. And alone. They left him alone while they went off to deal with the papers themselves. Because they were Ginny's brothers and it was their responsibility and… He was too angry by then to even hear them properly anymore. So now he lay here, on the floor of the storeroom… waiting. They intended for him to just lie here and be a good boy and not cause any problems. Well, he'd see about that. It wasn't as if he didn't know anything about how to get out of things he wasn't supposed to be able to get out of. The storeroom. This might be interesting after all…. ***** There was nothing quite like having one's dreams presented in living colour for someone else to see. After the pictures they'd all seen that in the morning's papers, Harry was glad that at least the part of his Daydream about Ginny hadn't progressed any further before the twins and Ron returned. Their reassurances about what the Weasley males had accomplished on his and Ginny's behalf at least helped sooth his fury somewhat. He was still angry, but not quite as much as before. Unluckily for the twins, Ron lifted the last of the Full-Body Binds just as they made their most annoying comments. "And all of these injuries were worth it to us, too," Fred said solemnly. "Who would have thought we would have the chance to see Pirate Potter?" George added. "And his Weasley Wench?" Fred added, ducking behind Ron. Harry shot to his feet, wand in hand, and the twins took off for the safety of the front of the shop. Harry skidded to a halt in the doorway as George flicked his wand and opened the front door of the shop. It was late morning, and several impatient customers had been left waiting outside. He glared at both twins, who smirked in reply, and he then retreated up the stairs to the flat. Ron followed at a safe distance, but Harry found that his anger had mostly just left him feeling drained — and achy. He rubbed at his sore arm as he headed toward the bedroom. His head was now aching for an entirely different reason — the knot on the back of his head from where he'd landed on the floor when they'd hit him with the Body-Bind was throbbing dully. Ron stopped in the doorway as Harry flopped onto his bed again and let his eyes close wearily. "You hungry?" Ron asked. Harry shrugged. "Maybe a bit," he muttered after a moment's silence. "How 'bout I get us some bacon rolls or something? My treat," Ron suggested. Harry knew a peace offering when he heard one. He still wasn't happy about the way things had turned out, but he knew the brothers really had his and Ginny's best interests at heart, even if he didn't especially agree with them. He nodded absent-mindedly. "You mind bringing it here?" he asked. "I really don't want to go anywhere with — that — still out there." He waved a hand vaguely to indicate what he was talking about. "Sure. I'll be back in a little bit, okay?" Harry nodded, his eyes still closed, and he heard Ron move away from the door. Struck by a sudden thought, he called, "Ron?" "Yeah?" "Could you pick up some headache potion while you're out?" Ron snorted. "Yeah. I'll get some general pain reliever, too. Think we probably all need some." He moved away again, and Harry pulled off his glasses and kicked off his trainers. The day wasn't even half over and he felt exhausted already. He rolled onto his side and willed himself to relax until Ron got back, but he kept imagining more reactions to those bloody pictures. Fred and George were right — he was likely to hear about this for quite some time from the other Auror trainees and Quidditch players and… he groaned and buried his face in his pillow. He should have used more potent spells when he'd had the chance. So much for taking it easy out of friendship. Finally giving up on truly relaxing, he rolled off his bed, grabbed up his toilet bag and headed to the bathroom to shower. He hadn't taken time to do it that morning, and he wanted to at least not reek of Fred and George's storeroom by the time he saw Ginny that evening. After showering and shaving, he realized he'd forgotten to bring clean clothes into the bathroom with him. He wrapped his towel around his waist and started back towards the bedroom. He thought he heard movement in the kitchen, though, and paused to check. "Ron?" "Yeah. Food's here whenever you're decent." "Be done in a mo," he answered. Now that he'd calmed down a bit, he realized he was a lot hungrier than he'd thought. He dressed comfortably in tracksuit bottoms and t-shirt, then padded back to the kitchen. Ron had brought home quite a spread, which was good, since Ron alone could do serious damage to most any sort of food available, and Harry was no slouch about it himself. They ate mostly in silence, only making small comments occasionally. Harry wasn't truly angry at Ron anymore, but he wasn't exactly in the best of moods, and it was obvious that Ron wasn't at his best, either. About the time they were finishing their meal, Fred appeared, leading Arthur into the flat. Fred then excused himself back to the shop, and Arthur sat with Ron and Harry for a cup of tea as he explained more fully about what he, Percy and Bill had been able to do on behalf of Harry and Ginny, and the violation of their privacy. Harry appreciated Arthur's efforts, and he was grateful that Arthur had made the additional effort to come by the flat to talk to Harry personally... but he still wished he'd been allowed to do something himself, somehow. After Arthur left, Ron and Harry agreed that they should at least attempt some of the ever-present reading that Dow had required. Ron took a book into the living room and Harry stretched out on his bed to read, and the afternoon passed quietly, with both of them alternately reading and dozing over the less-than-engaging books. Eventually, the twins arrived, having shut shop for the day, and they all washed and changed before heading to The Burrow to eat. Molly had made it plain that they were all expected, and none of them were going to protest. It was rather interesting, Harry reflected as he finished dressing, that the Weasleys all seemed to gather to eat whenever something was going on with the family. Sometimes the meal was a sombre affair, sometimes jubilant, but chaos always seemed to draw them together, and that almost always meant food. Not that he was complaining — Molly's cooking was too good to be ignored, and he had no problems with that aspect of things. Truth be told, though, he wasn't looking forward to being around Ginny's family that evening. The twins and Ron hadn't mentioned the fiasco with the pictures, or the ensuing battle over the whole thing, since they'd released him from the storeroom that morning. He wasn't sure what sort of reception he'd get from the rest of the family, though, and he really had no desire to spend another awkward evening trying to pretend that all was well. He'd had enough of that in just the last two evenings, and his mood was even more turbulent this evening than before. He sighed internally as the four of them gathered in the living area to begin Apparating to The Burrow; he was dreading this evening whole-heartily. They arrived at The Burrow just as Molly was putting the food on the table. There was an unusually subdued mood in the room as everyone took their seats. Harry found he could scarcely even meet Ginny's gaze, much less anyone else's. He felt as if he were on display again somehow, and he couldn't quite see how the rest of the family could possibly not be judging him. No one had said anything, yet he still felt a deep sense of shame and embarrassment over the whole situation, and he couldn't manage to do anything more than eat. His arm ached and Fred still had a couple of tentacles on his neck. George was still limping and the cut on Ron's cheek was even more visible in the light of the kitchen. The rest of the family was carrying on a conversation, but he couldn't make himself join in. He was vaguely aware of the twins talking about their latest best-selling item, the "Spinning Quill" which would allow the user to counter any argument. "I need one of those," Ginny remarked. "So I can write to the editors of those papers." Oh hell. She still thought she needed to take care of this herself. He stabbed at a bite of roast beef viciously, just to have something on which to take out his anger. "No, you don't," George said. "Dad and Percy have it all taken care of." Great. Rub it, why don't you? Harry thought bitterly. "I know." He could feel the eyes of the rest of the family turning towards him, even though he was studiously avoiding looking at anyone, even Ginny. "Nothing else happened today, did it?" she asked, sounding rather suspicious. No one answered her, and he knew she was looking at him directly. "What?" she questioned. Those prats were going to make him explain it. Annoyed, he sighed deeply before he answered. "I don't know what happened today," he spat out, "since I was trapped in Fred and George's storeroom." He shot a murderous glare at the twins and Ron. "Trapped in —" she began, but Ron interrupted. "It's not like it sounds, Ginny." "Stupid git was going to bring on more bad press," George said. "And he wouldn't listen to reason," Fred continued. Harry could feel himself redden, and only held himself back from either hexing them or swearing a blue streak by grim determination. He crossed his arms over his chest, trying to keep himself from reaching for his wand. The anger from earlier in the day was returning full-force. He'd felt so bloody helpless while they went off to protect and defend Ginny. His Ginny. The woman he was going to marry, and… He swallowed hard, trying not to let himself get even more furious, but glared at the brothers instead, hoping they'd be able to read his thoughts just by the way he was staring at them. "So we had to — er —" Ron's voice trailed off as he shifted in his chair, not meeting Harry's gaze. "Took three of us to do the Full-Body Bind," Fred said, shaking his head. "That's only because you fight dirty," Harry snapped. He'd berated himself earlier for not doing his worst in that spell-fight, and now he wished it even more fervently than before. He could feel Ginny giving him a somewhat-sympathetic glance, but he just wasn't ready to let it all go yet — especially not in front of the rest of the family. "Yeah, well. A wizard's got to do, what a wizard's got to do," Fred said. "He was almost out of the Bind by the time we got back," George added. "And into the Patented Day Dream Charms." Fred shuddered. George shook his head. "Harry, I worry about these murderous tendencies of yours." Harry's eyes narrowed as he gave the twins the most furious glare he could manage. "It would be worse than homicide to kill one of us now," Fred put in. "It would be fratricide." George nodded. "That's enough, boys," Arthur said calmly. Harry wished he could just crawl under a rock and not come out till everyone had forgotten that this whole mess had ever happened. Which would be never. Which meant he'd miss his wedding. All of which was beginning to make his headache reappear. Ginny stood up. "I think I get the picture. Harry, do you want to go for a walk?" Harry shot one last filthy look at Fred, George and Ron, and stood up, thankful for the chance to finally escape. They were almost to the door when Fred called out, "Keep your clothes on this time." The twins laughed. Harry fumed. Harry gave Molly and Arthur a furtive glance to make sure they weren't looking and then stuck up his hand over his shoulder, giving the brothers a well-earned salute. Fred and George laughed harder. Ginny laughed, too, and led him outside before anything worse could happen. She headed towards the orchard, and the old wooden bench where they typically had some sort of privacy. Ginny drew her wand and began Transfiguring the bench. While she wasn't paying attention to him, Harry drew his own wand and silently set several privacy and shield spells. It wasn't likely that anyone would trespass this near to The Burrow, but this time, he wasn't taking any chances. He glanced back at the bench. Ginny had turned it into a soft-cushioned settee in a truly hideous shade of green. "I like the style," Ginny said, sinking onto the settee. "But the colour needs work." Harry sat down beside her but didn't say anything. He couldn't quite figure out what he could say that wouldn't result in him fuming at Ginny. And he wasn't angry at her. He was just… angry. "You're brooding," she said after several minutes of silence. "Yes, I'm brooding." He leaned forwards, his elbows on his knees, propping his head on his hands. "I didn't have an easy day, either, Harry." He sighed and let his head drop forwards, his throat tightening. Oh god. Did she have any idea how much it hurt him to know that? To know that he hadn't done a damned thing to help her? "I know," he murmured, unable to say anything more. He could sense her draw in a breath, as though she were about to lay into him for the whole mess. He knew it was his fault. He should have cast those spells. He shouldn't have let himself get so distracted. He should have protected her from all this. And he knew he had to say something. "It's just —" he began, haltingly, "— as much as I hated the photographs in the papers, I hated the articles more." Ginny winced, and he was struck again by how much he'd hated every one of those bloody words, hated how they cheapened what was between them, hated how they questioned the best thing he'd ever known. "I hated them because they weren't true," he continued quietly, still not able to look at her, but willing her to understand what he was trying to say. "And I hated them because it reminded me of that helpless feeling I had when everyone thought I was making up Voldemort's return." She put her hand on his arm, and he stared down at her hand. "I remember," she said, just as quietly. He knew she did, knew she'd understood how he'd felt, even then. "That was just me then." He turned toward her. He couldn't not look at her any longer. "But all that mean-spiritedness was directed toward you — just because you care for me," he whispered. He still found it hard to believe that she was willing to put up with so much just for him. "Because I love you, Harry," she corrected him, looking at him with those beautiful, bright eyes that he'd always loved. "That's what those columnists don't understand." She gently placed her hands on either side of his face, drew him closer to her. "They don't understand love and they don't care — because sex sells and love doesn't." He leaned in, rested his forehead on hers. "I know," he murmured. She put her arms around his neck and he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, feeling his heart swell with emotion for her in ways he didn't think he'd ever be able to describe with words. "I couldn't do anything for you today," he admitted, his face buried against the side of her neck as he breathed in her scent. It was still so hard to be so helpless when he wanted to do something for her so badly, so desperately. "But you are now," she reassured him as she hugged him. He ran his hands over her hair, feeling that deep, trembling feeling for her swell even further. They sat in a loose embrace for a long time, watching the sunset, making idle conversation about the weather. And then… she asked him what he'd thought of her back in fifth year, when he and Ron had caught her kissing Dean. Harry stared at her blankly. Of all the million things this day might have evoked, that had never even crossed his mind. "I've told you this before. That's when I knew how I felt about you." "No, but did you agree with Ron that I was some sort of a scarlet woman?" She blushed deeply, and he couldn't quite figure out why on earth she was talking about this now. "I agreed with him that you shouldn't be dating Dean," he said, still confused. "But I've never —" "Sorry," she said suddenly. "I just feel a little paranoid after reading all those articles — like everyone is sitting in judgment." "Well, I'm not." Really. Shouldn't they be judging him anyway? Especially her family? "I know." She stared at him, and he could see the helplessness he'd felt so frequently in the last couple of days mirrored in her expression. "Ginny." He sighed, hoping that he was reading her right in this, at least. "I like the way you are. I like that you jump me whenever you have the chance." He felt her shoulders drop as the tension fled from her stance. She looked at him through her lashes. "Good. I think I'll jump you now." He laughed — for what felt like the first time in an age. "All of you Weasleys fight dirty," he chuckled. "So we do." She leaned in and kissed him, and he felt his mood lift now that they were laughing together. It had been a horrible day — a horrible three days — but it was all right between him and Ginny, and that was what mattered most. Even her family hadn't disowned him outright, so maybe things weren't as bleak as he'd feared. Then, abruptly, she asked, "Why wasn't I in your daydream?" He chuckled softly as he nuzzled her neck. "You were," he murmured against her skin. "You were the lady I was taking back to my pirate ship after the fight with your evil brothers." She giggled. "Was my bodice ripped and was my bosom heaving?" Her playful mood was contagious. "I hadn't finished the daydream before they let me out of the storeroom." He glanced at her questioningly as his hand moved toward the clasps on her robes. Her eyes danced with mirth and affection, and he let his fingers flick open the top clasp. "I think the heaving bosom part was next," he answered, leaning in to press kisses against the base of her throat and move across her collarbones. "Was I fighting you?" she asked breathlessly as his mouth moved across another exquisite patch of skin. "No, you were most cooperative." He grinned up at her. It was a daydream, for Merlin's sake — why would she be fighting him in his own daydream? Women.... She ran her fingers through his hair and he sighed against her skin. He loved the way she touched him so easily, so lovingly. Unable to resist, he glanced up at her, meeting her gaze as he added, "And all of your brothers were chained in the brig." She laughed and he felt that familiar warmth spread through him at the sound. "You're ruining the moment," she protested. He waggled his eyebrows at her playfully. "You weren't complaining in my daydream," he mock-pouted. She gasped as he lowered his mouth towards her again. "I'm not complaining now." Neither was he. And he had no intentions of complaining again for quite some time. ~*~ A/N: Yeesh. It seems like it's been forever since I last updated. Real Life has been ridiculous lately, but hopefully things will go better and faster with the next chapter. One aspect that I'm considering for the next chapter is Harry's birthday… if you have any suggestions for gifts he might receive from the Weasleys, feel free to let me know – I'll be sure to credit you if I use any suggestions. Thanks so much to all of my author/beta friends who've helped immeasurably with this chapter, and with this story in general. St Margarets/Mary has been, as always, both my cheerleader and mentor, and more help than I can possibly express. Parakletos helped with betaing and Brit-picking; Cwarbeck helped check for errors and provided very helpful feedback. Snarkhunter gave much needed inspiration and assistance, and Aibhinn also betaed. All of this help was much needed and appreciated! If I've missed anyone in this, my profound apologies. And if you find any remaining errors, the blame is all mine! Thanks to all of you who have reviewed. I'm already working on the next chapter, which should cover through the last chapter of Part 1 of New Zealand Chronicles. If you remember how that ended, you'll know where we're headed ;-)
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