PhoenixSong.net :: A Harry/Ginny Fanfic and Fanart Archive

Author: MyGinevra

Story: The Hog's Head

Part: 22: The Empty Lane

Rating: Teens

Status: Completed

Warning: Extreme Language, Sexual Situations

Reviews: 9

Words: 7,283

Updated: June 8, 2008, 9:45am

Printer Friendly Format

Chapter Navigation:

22: The Empty Lane

Saturday night in town with Ron and Hermione was a blur of spicy Indian food, London's night lights, loud Muggle music in a flashy club, and hair–raising rides in taxicabs driven by strange Muggles from all over the world. Harry and Ginny returned to the inn, had a late–night snack in the kitchen, and dove into bed, where they remained until the middle of Sunday afternoon, making love, sleeping, talking, eating, and just lying together, savoring each other. Ginny got up at three o'clock and worked on a Potions parchment, while Harry went downstairs to see how things were going and help Stan re–stock the bar from the storeroom. A new shipment of drinks had come in on Saturday, and Harry was annoyed when he discovered that some of the Potio Vitae and butterbeer bottles were a different size than the others; they wouldn't fit into the storage racks, so he had to keep them separate.

He and Ginny ate a light supper, and at eight–thirty they walked back to Hogwarts. Argus Filch was standing at the front door with Mrs. Norris at his feet and his pocket watch in his hand. He glared at them, then his jaw and the pocket watch both hit the floor as Harry and Ginny embraced in the middle of the entrance hall; the snog broke up only when Keesha and Neville walked through the doors just before nine.

"Thanks for waiting up for us, Mr. Filch," Keesha waved at the bemused caretaker. "S'up, Ginny, hey, Harry."

"We were visiting Keesha's family in Birmingham," Neville said. "Boy, can her mum cook! Harry, did I tell you that I was accepted at the College of Herbology in Lancaster? I'm starting next week, and I'll be renting a flat a block away from campus. My parents have a pension coming, but Gran said I could use some of it to pay the rent."

"And I'll be visiting Lancaster a lot," Keesha smiled. "Luna needs a boyfriend, otherwise she'll be on her own over weekends."

Ginny giggled. "That would be great, but it's not too likely, unfortunately."

"Yeah, that's a shame," said Neville. "She's a really interesting girl, but she's different."

At that moment Filch snapped his watch shut and the castle clock struck nine. A double snog followed, until finally Filch ostentatiously opened the doors and cleared his throat. Harry and Neville said goodbye to their ladies and left.

Neville hummed a tuneless song as he and Harry walked down the drive. "Harry," he finally said, "you'll never guess who was at Keesha's house. Kingsley Shacklebolt, he's her uncle, would you believe it? He was really interesting to talk to."

"He was there?" Harry had been preoccupied with thoughts of returning to an empty flat and an empty bed; he hadn't really been listening, but now he paid attention.

"Yeah, I thanked him for the pension they're giving to my parents, and he actually thanked me! Telling me to kill that snake was brilliant, Harry. It got me Keesha and it got me a handshake from the Minister of Magic." Neville laughed.

"You deserve both," Harry said. 'It took some guts to do what you did."

"Yeah," Neville nodded, "but, it wasn't anything like what you did."

"But it was," Harry stopped and put his hand on Neville's arm. "Riddle was going to kill you just like he thought he had killed me." He let go of the arm and they resumed walking; they had passed the castle gates and were in the lane. "You did a great thing, Neville. I couldn't have done what I did if you hadn't killed Nagini." Harry could almost feel Neville's blush; as they passed the train station he glanced at him and saw his red face in the lights.

"Mr. Shacklebolt talked about Seamus and Dean, too," Neville continued. "And also Ron. Did you know that Seamus is in the same Auror program? And Dean got a job as an intern at St. Mungo's, did you know that? Isn't it brilliant how all of us in our year are doing really interesting things? I mean, it's really great what you've done to the Hog's Head, it was such a dump."

They were now in Hogsmeade, passing The Three Broomsticks; Neville kept on talking, not noticing the change in Harry's mood, nor his tight–lipped expression.

"Have you thought about the Auror program?" Neville asked. "You would do great in it, Harry. You taught us so much in Dumbledore's Army, and you're so good at so many things."

Harry stopped. Anger and exasperation were rising in him; why was everyone always telling him about everyone else's brilliant career, and telling him he should do something he didn't want to do? "Neville, don't you have to go home now?"

"Huh?" Neville looked at him blankly. "I was going to hang out at your place for a while. Is that all right?"

"Fine, just shut up about Ron and Dean and Seamus and yourself, okay?"

He left Neville standing open–mouthed in the middle of the High Street, but Harry took only a few steps before the stupidity of what he had said hit him. He had no idea what had made him speak like that. He turned around with an apology on his tongue, but Neville was not there. Harry stared at the empty street for several moments, wishing he could take it back, but there was no one to take it back from. He slowly walked on to the Hog's Head.

He didn't want to talk to anyone, so he went around back and up to the flat. He sat in the love seat in the dark, holding his head, wondering what had happened, where that cruelty had come from, until there was a scratch on the window and he saw Bailey with a message in her beak. He let her in and she hopped onto the perch next to McPherson and bent toward Harry, offering him the parchment. Harry took it and went back to the love seat. He lit his wand and read Ginny's note.

My darling Harry,

I had a wonderful day and a wonderful weekend. I am already looking forward to next weekend,
when we can spend two whole days together. Keesha and I thought that it would be fun for
the four of us to go someplace. She said there's a beautiful park near her home where we
could have a picnic if the weather is good.

I'll be waiting in bed for you to use the Map. Did I tell you that it makes me feel all warm and
then I want you to be doing other things, too? When I see you on Friday I'll tell you what
those things are, but meanwhile, use your imagination.

I will love you forever.

Ginny

Harry crumpled the parchment in his fist and pressed it against his forehead. Now he felt sickened by what he had done to Neville. He went into the bedroom and threw himself face down on the pillow, and lay there trying not to think about anything. He gradually became aware that the pillow smelled just like Ginny, and then he noticed that it was becoming damp from his tears.

He sat up and wiped his face. He went to his dresser and looked at the photograph of Ginny in its gold frame, the one they had taken on their shopping trip to Diagon Alley. She blew a kiss at him, just as she had done at the Hogwarts memorial service yesterday, and Harry felt his eyes start to brim over again.

"Damn!" he said out loud, and put the photo down. He got out a fresh piece of parchment and wrote.

Ginny,

I need to see you tomorrow morning. Something happened when Neville and I left you this evening,
and I really need to talk to you. It's very important. Please.

Love, Harry

He sent it off with Bailey, and as he watched the owl disappear into the night, he felt relief wash over him. He waited at the window until Bailey returned fifteen minutes later, and he snatched the note from her beak. She squawked indignantly and hopped away on the window sill; she watched suspiciously as he read.

Harry,

Are you all right? I'll be in the library at nine.

Love, Ginny

Harry debated whether to answer her question, and decided on the truth.

Ginny,

No, I am not okay. I said something to Neville tonight that I wish I hadn't. I don't know why
I said it, but I'm afraid I hurt him. I feel terrible.

Love, Harry

Bailey took it and flew away. Ginny's answer came in a few minutes.

My darling Harry,

I'm sure it will be okay. Please don't worry yourself, Neville is one of your best friends.

And I love you.

Ginny

Harry left it at that and went downstairs. He stayed there until midnight, then locked up the inn after Stan left and went to bed. He slept poorly, tossing and turning, burying his face in Ginny's pillow, and getting up several times to stand in front of the picture window, trying to understand why he had become so angry. All Neville had done was to be enthusiastic about everyone's success, including Harry's. The sky lightened and the sun rose, and Harry had no answers.

Ginny was waiting in the entrance hall when he arrived at the castle and she took his hand. "Let's go for a walk."

"How come you weren't in the library? Don't you have work to do?" Harry said as they descended the steps to the lawn.

Ginny shook her head. "Nothing that can't wait." She steered them toward the lake, and they stopped at a large spruce and sat on the bed of needles underneath it; they could see Professor Sprout with a sixth–year Herbology class down at the water's edge collecting specimens. Ginny was still holding Harry's hand, and stroked it gently, waiting for him to speak.

Harry looked into her eyes. "We were in the village, and Neville started talking about the boys in our year. We've all started — I guess you could call it careers. Dean's an intern at St. Mungo's. Everyone's doing something except me, but Neville talked about the inn, too, how nice it looks now. Then I got angry, and I told him to shut up."

Harry swallowed and looked at the lake, then at Ginny again. "I wanted to apologize, but he had Disapparated, I guess. He was gone." Harry shook his head. "I don't know why I did that, why I got so angry. Ginny, I felt so bad. Neville wouldn't hurt a fly, and there I was telling him to shut up."

Ginny saw the frustration in Harry's eyes that was there more and more often. "He didn't Disapparate," she said, and Harry blinked in surprise. "He went into The Three Broomsticks and borrowed an owl from Madame Rosmerta. He sent a letter to Keesha, and she showed it to me this morning."

"He did? She did?"

Ginny nodded and smiled. "Neville said that something was bothering you, and that you were upset. He didn't say anything about what you said. He wanted Keesha to ask me what was wrong."

"He did?" Harry shook his head as thought clearing it. "He wasn't mad at me?"

"Oh, Harry, you just can't accept that people love you. Neville knew that something was really bothering you, otherwise you would never have talked like that."

"Yeah, I'd like to think that, too," Harry sighed, "but I stayed up half the night trying to figure it out."

'Isn't it obvious?"

"The inn?"

"Of course it's the inn. What else could it be?"

Harry leaned back against the tree and drew his knees up. "Are you saying I should get rid of it?" he frowned.

"I sure would miss it if you did, but if it's tearing you up..." She didn't finish the sentence, and put her hand on his knees and leaned her chin on it. Harry looked at her beautiful face, only inches from his.

"I don't want to sell it. It's our home. Maybe... maybe I'll take more classes. I'm supposed to start with Flitwick on Wednesday, and I'll ask McGonagall if she can tutor me in Transfiguration. It'll be something else to do, to help pass the time."

"But you don't want to take anything from Pester?" Ginny laughed and ducked as he tried to tap the top of her head with his fist.

"No thanks," Harry also laughed. "He's all yours." Ginny moved closer and put her arms around him and they fell onto the bed of spruce needles. Harry looked up at her, and she planted a kiss on him.

"What should I say to Neville?" he asked.

"'I'm sorry.' Because you are."

Harry pushed up and they both stood. "Let's go back. I'll see if I can talk to McGonagall, and then I'll send McPherson to Neville." He put his arm around her and they walked back to the castle. They kissed one last time in the entrance hall, ignoring the dozen or so students there. "Thank you," Harry said to her.

"Love, you don't have to thank me for that. It's what people do for each other when they're in love." She kissed him and trotted away, leaving Harry in the middle of the entrance hall with a dozen students smiling at him.

Professor McGonagall could not accommodate Harry because of her many duties as both Headmistress and Transfiguration teacher. He was disappointed, but his talk with Ginny had buoyed his spirits, and he left the castle with a smile on his face and a spring in his step. He even smiled at Turquoise Southeby when she waved at him as she was entering the post office. He thought that he might have stumbled on a good tactic for handling her, because she seemed so startled that she forgot to open the door and bumped her face against it. He laughed to himself and entered the inn still smiling.

"'Morning, 'Arry," Stan called from behind the bar. Harry sat on a stool and took a Potio Vitae that was sitting on the counter. He popped the cork, but before he could take a drink, Stan put his hand over the mouth of the bottle. "Hold on, we have a problem."

"Do I really want to hear it?" Harry sighed and put the bottle down.

"Well, Mr. Sipper just owled us. Every single bottle that we got in stock before yesterday that's the old style bottle has to go back. That's about seven cases."

"Why the hell is that?"

"A bar down in Plymouth had a problem. Seems they found a bunch of dead rats in the bottles."

Harry grimaced. "So we have to send the whole lot back? What about those new bottles? We can keep them?"

"Yeah, they're supposed to be okay."

"Bloody hell. Well, let's get them out of here. I don't want someone to open one and find a rodent, dead or alive."

Harry heaved himself off the stool and went into the storeroom behind the bar. He began pulling out cases of Potio Vitae and looking through them for the bottles that held the bad lot; the new bottles were squared off, while the old ones were round. Harry held a few of them up to the light, but there was nothing in them except the dark red liquid. In a few minutes he had separated them, and found that only three cases were left of the new bottles.

"I'll have to order more," he said to Stan back in the dining room. "And we'd better get full credit for the bad ones or Sipper's gonna have a problem with me."

Harry left Stan to sort out the remaining cases, and went upstairs. He wrote out a letter to Neville, apologizing for last night, and told him that he and Ginny would like to visit him and Keesha next weekend. He gave it to McPherson, and sat down in the love seat and thought about the inn, Ginny, and himself.

He couldn't get away from the two–year old fact that, no matter what, he needed Ginny. Two years ago that beast in his chest had almost devoured him, insisting that he must have Ginny. Then he had won her, and experienced a few weeks of an unfamiliar happiness. He had pushed her away but she hadn't accepted it, and what she had left him with — the birthday kiss in her room — had been part of his sustenance during months of exile, isolation, and fear. Ginny had been the final thought in his mind the moment he believed that his life was ending. And then came their first night together in the hammock, when they had begun to discover the depth of their love; he had truly come back to life that night.

It was possible that buying the inn was a mistake. But it was a certainty that having a place near Ginny which was theirs was the best decision he had ever made. Their love–making, their quiet meals in the parlor, their visits with Ron and Hermione... He would not give any of it up. He would work through the problems, be they dead rats or whatever other obstacles the world flung in his way.

He got up, lit a fire, and sat back down. He daydreamed about a house that looked like the Burrow, but some of the children in it had black hair. He saw his family sitting around a table laden with food; Ginny was putting out dishes and smiling at him. She was lying in their bed, looking at him seductively, her slim, lithe body underneath him. He was sitting in a parlor with a young boy on his knee; Ginny was in an easy chair next to the fireplace, knitting a maroon jumper. She smiled, and the boy reached up and hugged him.

Harry blinked, and the Hog's Head Inn re–appeared around him. The sun was no longer coming through the picture window; it must be after noon, and he must have fallen asleep in the love seat. McPherson was back on his perch, and when he saw that Harry was awake, he hooted and looked at the mantel. Harry retrieved the letter that was lying there and opened it.

It was from Neville, and as he read it, Harry felt both guilt and gratitude.

Harry,

It's okay. Don't worry about it. I know you're having problems with Death Eaters, or someone
who wants to make your life miserable. Please tell me if I can help you in any way. Keesha
wants us to have a picnic on Saturday, so let's get together.

Your friend,

Neville

Ginny was right. He needed to start being open to the people in his life, and take what they so willingly were giving him.

* * * *

On Wednesday morning Harry went up to the castle for his first private lesson with Professor Flitwick. He taught Harry some counter–curses and they practiced for an hour. When they were finished and Harry was walking down to the Great Hall to meet Ginny for lunch, he suddenly realized that he had just had a lesson in Defense Against the Dark Arts, not Charms. That was fine, he thought; better from Flitwick than Pester.

Ginny was waiting at the Gryffindor table, and she jumped up and grabbed him; they had not seen each other since Monday. They both gradually became aware of the silence that was spreading around them as people turned to watch, and they finally stopped snogging when Hagrid walked past on his way to the staff table and cleared his throat so loudly that, for a moment, Harry thought the ceiling was caving in.

"Enjoy the meal, Harry," Hagrid said with a straight face, and half the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw tables burst out laughing. The twins were also watching with interest from across the table.

"So what are you two looking at?" Harry grinned at them as he and Ginny sat down; he dished up broiled chicken for himself and her, a recipe of Kreacher's that he had sent over to the Hogwarts kitchens.

"You two are always snogging," Emma said. "Do you ever do anything else?"

Ginny gagged on her drumstick, and started coughing while Harry pounded her back. "Sometimes," she wheezed. "Sometimes we hold hands." She broke out in another coughing fit, then started laughing. "You know, when I was a first–year I had a crush on Harry, but he didn't notice. Do those Hufflepuff twins ever notice you?"

"Oh, they're ancient news," Claire put her hand up disparagingly. "They were kind of dull. We found some more interesting boys."

Ginny looked at Harry, and he nodded solemnly. "So which House has the most interesting blokes?" he asked the twins.

"I don't know about all boys," Claire answered, "but Slytherins are kind of neat."

"Whoa!" Ginny exclaimed; she began coughing again and Harry rubbed her back; she took a sip of pumpkin juice. "Slytherins? Which ones?"

The twins exchanged glances and giggled. "Zoroaster Black and Sean Allen," Emma said, and blushed. "They're hot."

This time both Harry and Ginny laughed, then stopped as the twins faces dropped. "I'm sorry," said Ginny, "it was just so surprising, that's all. I don't think anyone outside of Slytherin has ever dated one of them, at least as far as I can remember. Wow, that's brilliant! Good for you and good for them!"

The twins continued blushing, pleased at Ginny's approval. "We're not really dating," admitted Claire, "but we like to study together." She looked around dramatically and then leaned across the table; she lowered her voice. "Zoroaster says he's going to learn how to be an Animagus, just like your godfather."

"Oh," Harry answered, also in a stage whisper. "Just make sure he registers himself, otherwise he'll get into trouble."

The twins nodded, looking very serious. "Okay," Emma whispered, "we'll tell him that."

Ginny went outside with Harry after lunch, and they talked about the upcoming weekend and their plans to spend Saturday with Neville and Keesha. Harry kissed her goodbye and walked back to the inn feeling good. When he got to the dining room, the new order of Potio Vitae had arrived, and he helped Stan unload and store it. He spent the rest of the afternoon sitting at a table near the two DA plaques, working on the ledger that George had helped him with last summer. He added columns of expenses and income, trying to figure out if he was making a profit. By the time patrons started arriving for dinner, he had broken three quills in frustration, and decided to try again tomorrow. He put the ledger away in the kitchen and went back into the dining room to greet his customers.

Turquoise Southeby was there again, but this time alone, sitting at a table near the bar. She gave Harry a small wave, but he did not return it. He sat at the bar with his back to her and opened a bottle of Potio Vitae, but every time he looked up he saw her reflection in the mirror; she was always watching him, and whenever he looked she smiled. He finally nodded briefly, then left the bar with his bottle and walked past her to a table where Carlos, Tony's foreman, was sitting with his wife and another Argentine.

Carlos spoke in halting English while his wife smiled at Harry; the other worker, Eduardo, understood enough English to translate. While they talked about Quidditch and Wandball — a magical variation of American baseball that was played in Latin America — Harry wondered about Turquoise. He could not figure out why she was so persistent, given Harry's deliberate coldness and Ginny's explicit threat. Today she was not dressed as provocatively as she usually was, although what she was wearing — jeans and a tight sweater — did nothing to hide her figure. As long as she behaved herself, Harry had no excuse to throw her out or forbid her from returning, but her attentions annoyed him, and when he had been sitting at the bar they made him uncomfortable. Harry couldn't help but believe that she was somehow connected to the attacks on the inn, but she had always had rock–solid alibis for her whereabouts. He wondered what Morequest Pester had talked to her about after the last attack.

And then he had an idea, and he all but smacked himself in the forehead for not thinking of it sooner: he could use his Cloak to follow her home. If she was involved with Death Eaters, there was bound to be evidence at her house. This weekend, he told himself, he and Ginny would do it.

Pleased with his plan, Harry leaned back, opened another bottle of his favorite drink, and spent the rest of the evening with his guests. Turquoise left an hour before closing, and soon the inn was dark and Harry was up in the flat, playing "Marauder's Map" with Ginny as the owls shot back and forth between them. On McPherson's last trip before Harry and Ginny fell asleep, he carried a packet of honey nougats to Ginny, with a note telling her he was the happiest man on the face of the earth.

* * * *

Thursday passed uneventfully, but on Friday morning when Harry got downstairs and saw Stan sitting on a stool at the bar, he knew immediately that something was wrong. Stan was drumming his fingers on the counter next to a parchment bearing the letterhead of Sipper's Beverage and Tea Emporium. He handed it to Harry. "You ain't gonna like this," he said.

Harry read it and looked up at Stan. "So he's sticking us with those cases of bad PV? He can't do that!"

"That's what I would have thought, but there's also a story in the Prophet this morning." He reached over the counter and handed Harry a copy of he paper that was sitting on top of a keg of mead. He opened it to an inside page and pointed to a headline: It Doesn't Seem Rat. Harry snorted as he read.

The Potio Vitae rat race has not yet run its course. A special panel of the Wizengamot ruled yesterday that the manufacturer of the new beverage,
which has been steadily growing in popularity, had proved beyond a doubt that it was not responsible for the recent rash of rats that somehow insinuated
themselves into a large number of bottles of the ruby–red drink.

A spokeswitch for the company, Belinda Smoothie, told the judges and, later, the Prophet that although her employers, A Witches Brew Ltd, regretted the
incident, the unfortunate rodents were introduced into the bottles after they left the bottling plant. When asked how that could happen, she shrugged and
stated that "magic is as magic does." She refused to respond to reporters' comments about inane responses from public relations flaks, and Disapparated,
thus ending the interview.

"This is utter crap!" Harry slammed the paper down on the counter. "So they pass it on to Sipper, and he passes it on to me. Who am I supposed to pass it on to? I can't make people like Tony pay for something they haven't bought!" He ran his hand through his hair. "Where are the bad cases? He didn't send them back here, did he?"

"No, he's keeping them. He's just not crediting us."

Harry laughed. "And then he'll sell them again, to us or some other poor sod. Great."

He got off the stool and looked around. It was almost opening time, and he was of half a mind not to bother with it. Maybe he could just close down the inn and live in the flat and not have any of this constant drip, drip, drip of irritation and exasperation. But then he looked at Stan, and he could tell that Stan was guessing his thoughts. He couldn't do that to him, not after hiring him only a month ago.

"How much Potio Vitae do we have?" He got back on the stool and tossed the Prophet into a trash bin behind the counter. "Is it enough to last until Monday?"

Stan looked relieved. "I think so. I'll count them."

He disappeared into the storeroom, leaving Harry to contemplate yet another reason for him to hate what he was doing. It was like a ride on a broomstick in a thunderstorm; he never knew from one second to the next whether he would be going up or down, whether he would be blown off the broom or spun around like a top. He leaned on his elbows and dug his knuckles into his temples. Where was the fun he thought he would be having? Where were the crowds of friends who were supposed to surround him with good times? If it wasn't for Ginny and Stan, he would just pack it in and leave the inn to the Death Eaters, dead weasels, and drowned rats. It was remarkable how quickly his mood could swing from high anticipation to low dread. Two days ago he was gleefully planning a foray under his Invisibility Cloak with Ginny; now he wished he could throw it all away.

He went behind the bar and took a bottle of Potio Vitae from an open case; before he realized what he was doing, he held it up to the light, looking for Merlin knew what, then he laughed at himself and started to open it. But he stopped; maybe he shouldn't drink so much, but leave more for his customers; some of them drank more of it than he did. He put the bottle back and sat on his stool. When Stan finished counting cases, they discussed how to handle the unexpected shortage of their most popular drink, and then Harry got out the ledger again and, after an hour of smudged ink, more broken quills, and sweat, he balanced his books, or at least he told himself that he had.

There were, thankfully, no more surprises that day, pleasant or unpleasant. Harry waited impatiently for four–thirty, then hurried off to Hogwarts. He stood in the entrance hall again, and when Ginny came he held her a little longer than usual.

"What is it?" she asked when Harry finally let her go.

He just looked at her. She had exactly the opposite effect on him that the inn did. Her smile made everything else go away, especially the bad things. It vanquished Jack Sipper, banished Death Eaters, and restored the inn to a place of sanctuary. She took his hands and put them around her back and kissed him.

"Let's go," he picked up her bags, "I'll tell you on the way. It's actually kind of funny, now that I think about it."

He told Ginny about the dead rats, Jack Sipper's cheating soul, and his plan for following Turquoise Southeby. Ginny loved that idea.

"Harry, that's brilliant. Let's do it tonight. If she doesn't come to the inn, we can put on the Cloak and wait at The Three Broomsticks." She squealed with delight and squeezed Harry's arm. "And if we find a Death Eater at her house, let me try my non–verbal Stunning Spell. I got to use it on Jace yesterday. Pester had us pick new partner's from a hat, and I lucked out and got him. He's totally incompetent, I wonder how he passed his O.W.L.s."

"Okay," Harry grinned, "you get to take the first shot. But right now, maybe we could..." He paused as they reached the back door of the inn.

"What did you have in mind?" Ginny whispered into his ear while they climbed the stairs. Harry opened the door and dropped her bags in their usual spot, then staggered as Ginny launched herself onto him and wrapped her arms and legs around him. He carried her to the bed and, even when he fell on top of her, he was still wrapped.

They had dinner in the parlor again — juicy hamburgers smothered in melted Swiss cheese and mushrooms, chips, and huge ice cream sundaes topped with mountains of whipped cream and nuts. Harry went downstairs, then came back up and reported that Turquoise was there with two of her wizard friends; she was under–dressed as usual, and had watched Harry the entire time he was in the dining room. Kreacher was going to keep on eye on her, so they waited in the love seat until Winky knocked on the door and told them that "the yellow–haired witch" was leaving. They took the Invisibility Cloak, went out the back door and threw the Cloak over themselves, then walked around to the front and waited.

After a few minutes Turquoise came out with a wizard on each arm and went up the lane; Harry and Ginny followed. At the top of the High Street Turquoise and her escorts had a short argument, and she pointed down the street. The two wizards turned and trudged unhappily away; she watched until they disappeared into The Three Broomsticks. As soon as the door closed behind them, Turquoise pulled a short wand from inside her low–cut top and flicked it; a yellow shawl and a brown scarf with red stars and moons decorating it appeared. She put the shawl around her shoulders and drew it about herself. She put the scarf over her hair and tucked the long, blonde tresses underneath. She took a look around, then started off past Dervish and Banges and into the field that stretched behind the Hog's Head.

Harry and Ginny glanced at each other, then followed. They had to stay far enough behind to make sure that the sounds of their footsteps swishing through the long grass did not reach her. At the end of the field she climbed through a rail fence and turned into a dirt lane that led toward the hills. There were farmhouses along the lane — all of them dark at this late hour — but Turquoise kept going past them. The road curved in several places and passed through groves of hemlock and spruce; Harry and Ginny had to hurry to keep her in sight; they walked as quietly as they could, and Turquoise never looked back. The quarter moon had risen in front of them and gave them enough light to keep her shadowy figure in view.

They kept on for about a mile, past orchards and fields of ripening hay, and came to a highway. It was a paved Muggle road with a yellow line painted down the middle. Turquoise paused before crossing. Harry and Ginny stopped about fifty yards behind her and watched as she looked both ways and then went on. The lane continued on the other side of the road, and Turquoise went down it.

When Harry and Ginny got to the highway it was empty, and they hurried across. The lane now became rougher; weeds were growing between the ruts, and the fences lining it were not well kept; rails were missing and some of the posts were leaning. The fields beyond did not look well-tended, either; there were also no trees or farmhouses. There were more curves in the lane, and they lost sight of Turquoise, so they started to walk faster. They came around a sharp curve, and she was stopped only a few yards in front of them. There were no houses nearby, although another lane, more like a path, intersected their lane from both sides; Turquoise stood in the little crossing and looked around.

Except for the moon there was no light. As Harry and Ginny watched from under the Cloak, barely breathing, Turquoise looked up and down the lane, up and down the cross path, and then her figure seemed to shrink, as though it was receding into the distance. It grew fainter and then vanished.

Harry and Ginny stared at the spot where Turquoise had been. They looked back down the lane, then walked to the crossing and peered up and down the path. They walked in both directions along it, away from the lane; there was nothing as far as they could see, not a fence, not a house, nothing. They walked another half–mile along the lane and back, but again there was nothing. Finally Harry threw off the Cloak and they stared at each other.

"What on earth happened?" Ginny said. "I never saw anything like that. It didn't look like she was Disapparating."

"Or Portkeying, either," Harry frowned. "There's nothing around here, no buildings, no houses, nothing. Where the hell did she go?"

"And how did she do it?"

They stood in silence; not even a breeze rustled the weeds in the fields beyond the fences. Harry sighed. "Damn, I really thought we were on to something. I never expected some kind of deep, secret mystery. If she's more than just a tart, then what is she?"

Ginny looked at Harry. "You said secret. What if it's a —"

"Fidelius!" they both said at the same time, and they both grinned.

"That's it!" Harry exclaimed. "That has to be it! We can't see anything because it's protected by a Fidelius charm. But it has to be nearby because she was about to enter a house or go down a path to it. Maybe this path." He pointed to the one they were facing.

"Then who's the Secret Keeper?" Ginny said.

"That could be anyone. Maybe one of those blokes who were with her tonight."

"I don't think so," Ginny shook her head. "If she went to all the trouble to cast a Fidelius, then the Secret Keeper will be someone she can really trust. Those two didn't look bright enough to light a match."

They started to walk back down the lane toward Hogsmeade. "We need to talk to Hermione and Ron," Harry said. "I wonder if they know anyone who can break a Fidelius."

"You can't break it, Harry, not with Veritaserum or Imperio. Not even Tom Riddle could find your parents' house until Pettigrew told him."

They continued to talk until they got back to the inn. It was well after midnight, and Stan had closed up and gone home, and Kreacher and Winky were both asleep. Harry and Ginny went up to the flat and lit a fire; they sat in the love seat, talking and thinking, but soon they were snogging, and soon after that they were in bed with candles burning in the Veela candlesticks outside the closed hangings. They slept soundly, well into the morning, and awoke, as they had so many other mornings, to the tempting aromas of bacon, hot cakes, and fresh coffee.

Harry sent McPherson to Diagon Alley as soon as he got out of bed, and the owl returned with Hermione and Ron's reply shortly after they were finished eating. An hour later Harry and Ginny went out back behind the inn to wait, and in a few minutes Ron and Hermione Apparated.

They started walking across the field while Harry told them about last night's escapade. The trek didn't seem to take as long in the daylight, and soon they were standing in the little crossing where the lane met the path. There were no houses in sight, not along the lane or across the fields. The nearest trees were about half a mile away.

"And she just kind of faded away?" Ron asked while Hermione walked a few yards on the path to their left.

"Right," Harry said. "I never saw anything like it, but then I've never tried to follow someone whose house was protected by a Fidelius."

"I can't think of any other explanation," Hermione had returned to the lane; she shaded her eyes and looked across the fields. "You didn't hear a popping noise, and she wouldn't use a Portkey unless she wanted to run the risk of the Ministry finding out." She turned to Ron. "Have you done anything with the Fidelius in class yet?"

Ron shook his head. "No way. It's so complicated, they made it a whole separate unit. But..." He thought for a moment. "You know who's used it a lot? Bill. I'll bet he could tell us something."

"Maybe you can go see him later today," Hermione suggested to Harry.

"Maybe," Harry's brow creased. "We're visiting Neville and Keesha later. I could see Bill tomorrow evening, if he's free."

"Hey, I heard Neville's going to Herbology school," Ron said enthusiastically. "That means every bloke in our year's in some kind of program —" He stopped in mid–sentence and looked guiltily at Harry, and then at Hermione.

Harry scowled. "That's right, Ron, except me. Leave it alone, will you?" He turned away and jammed his hands into his jeans pockets. Ginny glared at Ron.

"Sorry, mate," Ron muttered. "I was warned not to talk about that —" he shot a quick glance at Hermione "— but my big mouth..."

"Forget it," Harry turned back. "I'm getting used to it."

Ginny spoke quickly. "So what do we do now? Is there any point in following Turquoise again?"

"Probably not," said Ron, relieved to have the subject changed, "but this is making me think about something you said a while ago, Harry. Where did you say she worked before she came to Hogsmeade?"

"In a restaurant in York," Harry answered. "Rosmerta told me. Why?"

Ron thought for a moment. "Well, the names of the escaped Death Eaters are starting to leak out, and one of them is from a place called Dringhouses. It's a village just outside York where a few wizarding families live."

"There's probably hundreds of wizarding families around York," Hermione said. "One of them was bound to be a Death Eater, it's a mathematical probability."

"Yeah, but this one's last name is Parkinson, as in Pansy."

"My top candidate for a facial decoration," Ginny said darkly. "I heard all about how she tried to sell you out when you got back to Hogwarts," she said to Harry. "If I ever get a chance..."

"She's definitely not my favorite person," Harry smiled. "But I don't see what her connection is to Turquoise Southeby."

Ron glanced at Hermione; he seemed a little flustered. "Well, maybe nothing. It's just something I learned in the program."

"Well, what is it?" Harry asked. "Look, mate, you don't have to apologize to me about what you're doing. Just tell us."

"Um, they've been teaching us to look for coincidences. I know this one seems stupid," he added hastily. "I guess Pansy couldn't have anything to do with Turquoise. Forget it. They probably never met in their lives." Ron's face had gone pink.

"Does anyone know what Pansy's doing now?" Harry looked at Ron.

"I'd have to do some digging, but the Ministry might not even have any information on her unless she's done something naughty."

They all chuckled; Harry took his hands from his pockets and took Ginny's hand. "It's nice out here, you know," he said, looking around at the open fields. "Very peaceful."

As they walked back to Hogsmeade, Ginny wondered about Harry's reaction to Ron's mention of Neville and his other classmates. Harry was still holding her hand as he described to Ron the problems he was having with his beverage supplier. She glanced past them and caught Hermione's eye. They looked at each other for a moment, and Ginny could see that Hermione was also wondering about Harry and the inn.

Chapter Navigation: Previous Next