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Author: Aibhinn Story: Heal The Pain Rating: Teens Setting: AU Status: Completed Reviews: 6 Words: 198,021
Harry stepped out of the bathroom at the Burrow and started up the stairs, his short, damp hair sticking up in all directions as usual. It was eleven-thirty p.m.; he and Ron would be expected at the Ministry in half an hour to begin their shift. Last Sunday, after the two of them had returned to the Ministry from Hogwarts, Twilight had made a decision. The Death Eaters' attacks were beginning to increase at an alarming rate; it was becoming far too much for one partnership to take care of without seriously endangering their health. Consequently, Twilight had brought in another partnership to work with Harry and Ron. Big Sky and Jester had both been with the Department for the better part of ten years, working in the field. They'd had sufficient experience there to make them excellent choices for this particular job; they knew enough about how the Death Eaters had operated before the Battle to be able to put clues together quickly, easily, and efficiently. Though they didn't spot patterns quite as well as Harry and Ron did, they were able to notice minute differences in methods of operation between attacks, and also knew what to look for and where to find it in ways that Harry and Ron didn't. Between the four of them, they'd got quite a lot of information out of the Jones and Snodgrass scenes. For the past week since Big Sky and Jester had been brought in, they'd been taking every other day on shift: 24 hours on, 24 hours off. It made a wonderful change for Harry and Ron to know that they had a full day when they'd not be called in except in a major emergency, where two attacks happened nearly at the same time and they'd be needed to take one scene while Big Sky and Jester took the other. So far, that hadn't happened. Harry opened the door to Ron's room and stepped inside. Ron was already there, pulling on an old set of Muggle jeans and a sweatshirt with a Chudley Cannons logo. Harry shut the door and pulled the tie of his dressing gown loose so he could shuck it off. "Robes," he reminded Ron, who groaned and opened his wardrobe again. "Did you have to remind me?" Ron groused, pulling his dark blue uniform robes off their hanger and bunching them up from the bottom, preparatory to sliding his arms into the sleeves and dropping the rest over his head. "I hate these damned things. I feel like such an idiot, hanging about the office in them while everyone else is in normal robes or Muggle clothes." "Everyone else is likely to stay in the office, not be called out at a moment's notice to the scene of an attack," Harry reminded Ron as he pulled on his own trousers. The two of them tended to wear Muggle clothing under their robes; if they were called out into the field, which was likely, they'd be grateful for the extra layers. Cooling Charms would keep them comfortable within the Ministry as long as they were there. "Yeah, yeah, yeah." Ron tugged at the robes, getting them to fall properly towards his booted feet, then glanced up as if something caught his eye. He moved toward the window and his eyes widened. "Bugger," he breathed. "Harry, they're attacking the village!" His shirt half on, Harry bolted for the window, shoving Ron out of the way so he could see as he tugged the shirt down absentmindedly. Fires were burning down in Ottery St. Catchpole, and small explosions that looked like fireworks were shooting up from the centre of the village. Fireworks? He peered, squinting his eyes. Wait a minute—those were fireworks! A corner of his mouth quirked upward in a grin as comprehension began to dawn. "Ron," he said, "what's today's date?" Ron blinked in surprise. "Last Saturday was Halloween, so it's…" he thought for a moment. "November fifth, I guess. Almost the sixth. Shouldn't we be getting down there before the Death Eaters kill the whole bloody village, and not worry about the damned date?" His wand was in his fist, and he was clearly ready to Apparate, heedless of anti-Muggle security measures. Harry laughed, earning him another glare. "Ron, it's Bonfire Night," he said. "Guy Fawkes Day. It's a Muggle holiday. Those are perfectly legitimate bonfires and fireworks." Ron gave him a very strange look. "Legitimate fires?" "It's a celebration," Harry said, somehow unwilling to explain about the whole Gunpowder Plot at this point. "Trust me, this is normal for today." Ron's brow furrowed, and he looked back out the window. "You mean Muggles light fires and set off fireworks and dance around all night every fifth of November?" "Yeah," Harry said, shrugging. He moved back toward his bed to finish getting ready. "It's a long story, Ron, but basically they're remembering something that happened about four hundred years ago. I don't feel like getting into it right now, but if you ask Hermione, I'm sure she'll tell you all about it." Apparently convinced, Ron stared out the window for another minute or two, then moved away, shaking his head. "Mental," he sighed. "At least we don't have to start our shift in our own backyard." Harry grinned and pulled his own robes over his t-shirt and dragonhide—the vest was warm enough that he didn't need anything heavier than the cotton tee. He shrugged the dark-blue fabric into place, then jumped as a sharp tapping sounded on the window. It was Hedwig, clutching a parcel in her claws. Ron opened the window and she flew in, dropping the parcel on the bedspread before coming to rest on the headboard. Harry picked it up and tore it open. "Oi!" Ron said, half-leaping forward, hands outstretched. "Don't open that! How do you know who that's from, mate?" "Calm down, Ron. I've been expecting this." Harry held up the wrapping, which bore the Hogwarts seal. "Hogwarts? What are you expecting from Hogwarts?" "This." Harry held up a small rectangle of linen. Ron peered at it, picking it up to look at it more closely. "A tea-towel?" he asked blankly. "What do you want with an old Hogwarts tea-towel?" "Oh, nothing," Harry said vaguely as he dug into his trunk for parchment, quill, and ink. "Hang on a bit, Hedwig. I've got a letter for you to take." Hedwig hooted with quiet dignity and waited while Harry scribbled a few lines onto the parchment, then used the twine from the parcel to tie the note to her leg. "Take that to Ginny," he said. "Get it there as soon as you can, all right? And wait for an answer." Hedwig hooted again, and stepped with great care onto Harry's wrist when he held it out for her. Ron watched with a face full of growing confusion as Harry slipped past him to the window and gave Hedwig a little toss to boost her into the air before he closed the window against the chill air. "A letter for Ginny at this hour?" Ron asked, turning to follow Harry with his eyes as Harry moved back to his bed. "Well, I can hardly send it in the morning, can I?" Harry said with inescapable logic as he reached into his trunk and pulled out his comb, trying to tame his hair into some semblance of order. "We'll be on duty." "And a tea-towel?" Ron pursued, leaning a hand against the wall as he glared down at Harry, holding the object in question out. "Who in blazes sends tea-towels from Hogwarts?" "House-elves, of course," Harry said flippantly as he gave up and tossed the comb back into the trunk, then pulled the towel from Ron's hand. "Come on, Ron, get a move on. We've got to be there in fifteen minutes and you've not brushed your hair yet. Did you want to say goodbye to Hermione or not?" "I'm not going anywhere until you explain yourself, Potter," Ron said flatly. "What do tea-towels and my sister have to do with each other?" "Well, I expect she's used a tea-towel at some point or other in her life, don't you?" Harry retorted. He was oddly reluctant to share his plans with Ron, and he wasn't sure why. For whatever reason, he wanted this to be a private thing, unshared with anyone but Ginny. "Harry," Ron said in a warning sort of voice. "Look, Ron, what's it to you?" Harry said, exasperated. "This is between Ginny and me." "Well, let's see," Ron said nastily, folding his arms and letting his shoulder lean against the wall. Harry's back went up at the tone of his voice, and he could feel the coals of anger begin to glow. "Could it be that…she's my sister? And I'm worried about her? After the Battle she was unconscious nearly as long as you were, and she's not been the same since she woke. It's like she's hiding something from us, and I'm damned if I'm going to let you do the same." He glared at Harry. "So if you've got any grand secrets to reveal, you'd best do it now, mate, because if I find them out later and they've anything to do with harm to my sister, you'll know about it." Harry shot to his feet. Ron had never been this overly protective of Ginny before, and there was something about his attitude and tone that put up Harry's hackles. His fists clenched. "Just what is it you're accusing me of, Weasley?" he asked, his voice oddly quiet. And what makes him think he's entitled to every secret Ginny's told me? "I'm not accusing you of anything," Ron snapped. "I just want to know what's happening with my sister! I know she's told you what's going on, but the rest of us are damned concerned. She spent the summer barely eating, hardly sleeping—she spoke to almost nobody for two months after the Battle—she still doesn't sound right, even in her letters. We've all tried to get her to talk, but she won't, and that's just not like her. She's not been herself, and I want to know what's wrong!" Harry was literally gritting his teeth by this point. "God damn it, Ron!" he snarled, actually causing Ron to step back a pace or so in surprise. "Can't we have any privacy? I don't get in the way of you and Hermione, do I? I don't stick my nose in and ask why half the time you don't make it to your own bed until the sun's nearly up. That's because it's none of my damn business, even if she is like a sister to me. I trust you to take care of her because I know you love her, and I trust her not to stay with you if you're treating her badly. Y'don't think you could extend us the same privilege, do you? Because this protective-brother thing, new as it is, is already old." Ron just stared at Harry, jaw partially open, as though unable to believe what he had just heard. Harry was more or less unable to believe it himself. He sighed and buried his face in his hands. "I'm sorry, Ron," he mumbled, rubbing his face, then looking up at his friend again. He doesn't deserve to be snapped at, Harry thought guiltily. He's only worried for Ginny. For that matter, I am, too; I can hardly fault him for it. But he couldn't just apologise and leave it at that. He had to tell Ron something; there was no way his best mate was going to let this go now. And there was no way he, Harry, was going to lie, either. But how much can I tell him without breaking her confidence? He raised his head and looked Ron in the eye. "The truth is, there is something bothering Ginny," he said quietly. "I can't say anything more than that; I've promised. It's…to do with what happened at the Battle." That was true, if not complete truth. "But I've only just got her to talk to me about it. That's part of what this is about—she talked a bit last weekend, but you and I got called out to the Baddocks' right in the middle of everything. Now we've got Saturday off, I…I need to see her again." He felt himself blushing and looked down at the floor, rubbing the back of his neck. "I rushed out so fast…I just…I need to make it right." He glanced back up again. "But I promise you, it's nothing life-threatening, okay? If it was, if I were honestly that worried about her, I'd tell you. I swear." Ron's expression had slid slowly from anger and hurt to consideration as Harry spoke. Finally he sighed and pushed himself away from the wall. "Okay," he said. "Okay. I don't have to like it, but—I know that I'd want Hermione to confide in me if she needed to, and…and I wouldn't be telling you about it if she did. And I do trust you." He gave Harry a piercing look. "Does that mean you'll be going to Hogwarts this weekend?" he asked. "How were you planning to manage that without being noticed?" Harry held up the tea-towel and grinned. "With a little bit of inside help. There is, after all, something I require." Ron's brow, furrowed in confusion, suddenly cleared and his eyes lit with understanding. But before he could say anything, a knock sounded at the door and Hermione stuck her head in. "Have you two heard?" she asked. "Hermione!" Ron said, scandalised and obviously distracted from the subject at hand, for which Harry was rather grateful. "We could have been dressing! Harry could have been naked, for all you knew!" "Oh, Ron, stop," she said crossly, coming into the room. "It's not like I've never seen a naked man before." She held a small, familiar-looking message cylinder in her hand. "This is important." A faint pop sounded and identical cylinders appeared on Ron's and Harry's belts. The two of them looked down, startled, then reached for the cylinders. Harry opened his and read the message within silently. Report directly to scene of attack. Status: Blue. Dress: undercover. Briefing upon arrival. Twilight. Harry drew a sigh of relief. "Status: Blue" meant there were no deaths and no serious injuries. "Dress: undercover" was something of a surprise, though; it meant they were to wear Muggle clothing. Harry's eyes drifted up toward the window as realisation began to blossom in his mind. Bonfire Night, he thought. Who would know it was an attack and not a normal burning-in-effigy? Who'd pay any attention? Ron was glaring at his letter, which presumably said the same thing as Harry's. "Why didn't we get that sick feeling?" he demanded. "We always have before. Is it wearing off or something?" "It's Blue, not Red," Hermione reminded him. "No deaths. That's probably why. I'm not feeling it, either." "So you've been called as well," Harry said, rather than asked. She nodded, her face sober. "Have you remembered what day it is in the Muggle world, Harry?" she asked. "Bonfire Night," he answered, nodding. "Yeah, I thought of that, too." "What are you two on about?" Ron snapped, looking from one to the other. His temper was obviously still somewhat frayed from his spat with Harry a few moments before. "Oh, honestly," Hermione said impatiently, "if you'd taken a useful course like Muggle Studies instead of that ridiculous Divination, you might know a bit more about the people who live next door to you." Trying to spare Ron before Hermione could launch into a lecture about Guy Fawkes Day, Harry interjected, "Remember how you thought there was an attack going on down the village, Ron? Well, what if it really was an attack, only nobody knew it because everyone's got coloured lights and loud bangs going on around them? Tonight would be the perfect cover. Nobody would call the police or the Ministry, because everyone would assume it was just a celebration." Realisation had dawned in Ron's face. "We'd best get going, then," he said, hauling his robes off over his head. "If they're calling all three of us in at once, it must be something big." "Four," Hermione corrected. "Domina will be there, too." Ron gave her a look, and Hermione sighed. "I know you don't like her, Ron," she said, "but I do, rather; and she's my partner. I need her." She looked at the clock. "You two have about ten minutes," she said. "I'm going now. See you there. Zephyr!" The Portkey activated with her code name, and she disappeared. Harry and Ron looked at each other. "Comb your hair, mate," Harry said, pulling his robes off and hanging them carefully in Ron's wardrobe. "We're on duty as of now." ---------------------- Ginny looked up from her Divination homework ("When Venus is in the Twelfth House, Mars is in the doghouse—discuss") at the nearly-empty common room, and sighed. It had been such a shock to return to school in September and see so few faces left. The War had taken its toll on everyone, children included. Some were dead; some had been moved to the Continent, to Canada, or to the States for safety reasons; some had gone to those places because their parents were dead or in Azkaban and they had no place else to go; some had been injured in attacks on their families and were in St. Mungo's. Others nobody knew about; they had simply vanished. Just like Malcolm Baddock, Morgan Jones, and Anthony Snodgrass simply vanished last weekend. Rumours had been flying for the past week: they'd been kidnapped—no, killed—no, their parents had taken them—no, Snodgrass had been killed by Baddock and Jones and those two were now in Azkaban.... And in the meantime, Ginny's Gift of Seeing had remained stubbornly silent. She and Harry were still corresponding, and his letters were full of tantalizing hints about the investigations into the missing students' whereabouts. It was nearly driving her mad. She knew that he couldn't tell her more than that—knew that he probably was telling her more than he really should—but after a year with the Order and being used to staying in the thick of things (not to mention having Visions that gave her information regularly, sometimes more than she really wanted to know), it was frustrating to have to stand on the sidelines. True, she had her lessons, her friends, and most definitely her Animagus work to keep her occupied, but it just wasn't the same. A group of four giggling third-year girls vacated the sofa in front of the fire. Giving up on her essay—after all, it wasn't due until Monday—she stuffed books, parchment, ink, and quill back into her knapsack and walked over to the sofa, throwing herself down upon it and flopping an arm over her eyes. The truth was, she was lonely. She had been ever since the train had pulled out of Platform 9 ¾. She had never made the train trip without at least one brother elsewhere on the train, and for her first two years she'd had four. Now she was the only Weasley at Hogwarts. And even worse than that was the absence of Harry, a constant in her school life for six years, a constant in her heart for even longer. Here in the familiar confines of Hogwarts, her relationship with him almost seemed like a dream—the fact that he loved her, that he wanted to be with her, was nearly unbelievable at times. Her heart gave a lurch and she winced, removing her arm from over her eyes to wrap both arms around her middle. Harry asked her in every letter how she was doing, how she was feeling, whether the nightmares were still plaguing her. She'd hovered between telling him the truth, and lying so as not to worry him, but for all four letters she'd received since Sunday morning, her conscience had won out and she'd told him the truth. She was feeling fine, physically. She was worried about the missing students, particularly Anthony Snodgrass; he'd always been kind to her. Yes, she was still having occasional nightmares, but she was able to go back to sleep afterwards. He wasn't to be concerned. But what she really wanted, if she admitted it to herself (for she never would to him), was for him to be here, with her. Just to be able to be with him, to crawl into the circle of his arms and know that she was safe—and that he could keep himself safe as well. She missed waking up in the night to feel the warmth of his sleeping body next to hers, missed the soft thump of his heart and the weight of his leg thrown over hers as he spooned against her back. She sighed and turned onto her side, facing the fire, arms still wrapped around her middle. Only six more weeks until the Christmas holidays, she told herself firmly, and then you'll get to see him whenever he's not working. It would have to be enough. She opened one eye and looked at the clock, then groaned. It was nearly two in the morning. She'd best get herself to bed; she would be spending the entire morning on her Animagus work. At least tomorrow's Friday, she thought tiredly as she sat up and stretched. It seemed she was the last person in the common room. Again. Tap! Tap! Tap! Ginny jerked around toward the source of the noise and saw Hedwig perched on the outer sill of the common room window. She grinned, momentarily forgetting her loneliness as she raced to the window and pulled it open. Hedwig fluttered in and settled on the table where Ginny had been working, waiting patiently while she untied the letter. Ginny stroked Hedwig's snowy feathers. "Thanks, Hedwig," she said. "Are you supposed to wait for a reply?" Hedwig hooted. "All right." Ginny unfolded the note. It was much shorter than most of Harry's letters, but more than made up for it with its content. Gin, Meet me in the D.A. room at half-past midnight Saturday morning. Use my dad's map. I love you. Harry An enormous smile slowly spread across Ginny's face. It's almost as if he was reading my mind… That, or he needs to see me as much as I need to see him. And that thought made the smile grow even broader. Feeling as though she were nearly floating, Ginny reached down to the knapsack that still sat propped against a leg of the table and withdrew a roll of parchment and her quill and ink. Tearing a piece off the roll, she scribbled a short reply. I'll be there. I love you. Ginny She attached it to Hedwig's leg and gave her a toss out the window, watching until the white shape disappeared into the darkness. With a sigh of anticipation, she closed the window, picked up her knapsack, and finally headed back up the staircase to her dormitory for a few short hours of sleep. She had a feeling Friday was going to pass even more slowly than usual. -------------------- Ginny had never regretted attempting her N.E.W.T. in Potions as much as she did right now. Double Potions had been miserable when Professor Snape was teaching it. Since his death in the Battle (for which she still mourned; he'd gained her respect a thousand times over in those last few months), it was being taught by Professor Lobelia Stewart. She was a short, rotund woman with grey hair and a soft voice that was usually very soothing, but today grated on Ginny's nerves nearly as much as Umbridge's sickly-sweet tones had, back in fourth year. "Miss Weasley," said Professor Stewart, as she came up beside Ginny and peered into her cauldron. "Have you finished?" "Nearly, Professor," Ginny said, dragging her attention back to class. She glanced down at the table in front of her. One ingredient remained to be added. Quickly she checked the potion—it was a sickly yellow and just beginning to bubble. Perfect, though if she'd waited another minute or so it would have been ruined. She swept the chopped alligator liver into her hand and dropped it into the potion, stirring quickly three times widdershins, then removed her ladle and waited. There was a pause, then the potion turned a bright pink and gelled. "Oh, well done!" Professor Stewart said, delighted, as Ginny quickly removed the cauldron from the fire. "Full marks, Miss Weasley! Excellent work. I've never seen a more perfect Befuddlement Potion from a student." She scribbled something in the notebook she held. "Take one of the jars from the shelves and fill it with your potion. I should very much like to have it as a sample for my other classes. Please make sure it's labelled properly; Befuddlement Potion looks very much like a common remedy for upset stomachs, and we don't want the two confused." Professor Stewart moved on and Ginny walked over to the shelf with the row of wide-mouthed jars with large, waxed corks. Plucking one of the jars down as well as one of the labels that were stacked next to them, she hurried back to her cauldron. Perhaps Stewart will let me leave early, she thought hopefully. She filled the jar and corked it, tapping the cork with her wand to make the wax melt and seal tightly, then filled out the label with the name of the potion, her name, and the date, and stuck the label to the jar. She Banished the potion to the proper place on the 'completed' shelf, then cleaned out her cauldron with another flick of her wand. The cauldron, too, went to the shelf where it belonged, and the mess from her preparation was cleaned with the same spell that had cleaned the cauldron. She was ready to go. Forcing herself to wait patiently, she tried to catch Professor Stewart's eye. "Hey! Weasley!" a voice hissed from the next table over. She turned. It was Derek Marchbanks, one of the Slytherins with whom Gryffindor shared their Potions class. "In a hurry to go somewhere, Weasley?" he whispered, smirking, his head tilted so his dark brown fringe nearly covered one eye. "Running off to meet your boyfriend?" "Which one?" she asked with an arched eyebrow, in too good a mood to get irritated. "Harry, or the ones I'm stringing along to keep me amused until the Christmas hols?" Colin Creevey, who was sharing her table, gave a snort of amusement. Marchbanks shot him a dirty look, then turned his gaze back to Ginny. "Watch yourself, Weasley," he snarled. "You want to show a bit more respect to a school prefect." "Oh, sod off, Marchbanks," Ginny said, rolling her eyes. "You may think you're big man in the Slytherin common room now that Malfoy's gone, but I helped take down Voldemort less than a year ago. I don't have time for pretty boys and their delusions of grandeur." He sneered. "Does that mean you'll be dumping Potter, then?" "Oh, no," she purred. "Harry doesn't have delusions. The grandeur's really there. But I'll be sure to tell him you think he's pretty. Shall I see if I can get an autograph for you?" Professor Stewart bustled up to them just at that point, preventing Marchbanks from saying anything. "Yes, Miss Weasley, you may go. Creevey, you want to add a bit more bat spleen to that before you add the alligator liver. It's not quite the proper shade of yellow. And Marchbanks, let's see yours. Go on then, show me." She leaned over Marchbanks' cauldron as Ginny snatched up her bag. "See you at dinner, Ginny," Colin said, carefully tipping the tiniest bit of bat spleen into his cauldron and watching the colour change. "All right." She smiled at him. "Have you done your Herbology essay yet? I've still got about half to do. We could work on it together this evening. I think Luna was wanting some help as well." "That sounds good. Library after dinner, then?" "Sure. I'll tell Luna." She grinned cheekily at Marchbanks, who had Professor Stewart carefully explaining again the order in which ingredients had to be added and the reasons for it, and then left the dungeon whistling. Sarcastic as Snape had been, she would have preferred one of his scathing comments to having something she knew perfectly well explained to her in that soft, patient tone as though she were seven, not seventeen. By his expression, Marchbanks felt the same way, but didn't dare say anything to a teacher. She checked the time as she climbed the stairs into the entrance hall. There was still a good half an hour before dinner. Perfect. She dashed up to Gryffindor Tower as quickly as she could and pulled together a sort of overnight bag—clothes for the next morning, her hairbrush and toothbrush, the all-important birth control potion—then performed a Shrinking charm so she could tuck it into a corner of her knapsack, in the pouch where she usually kept a spare ink bottle. She took out all her books except her Herbology text and the parchment on which she'd begun her essay, then, with a last glimpse at herself in the mirror of the girls' lavatory ("You'd better hurry, dear, or you'll be late for dinner") she sped downstairs again. Dinner and studying in the library went surprisingly quickly—much more quickly than she would have imagined. When the library closed at ten o'clock, she and Colin returned to the common room together and said goodnight there before he headed up to his dormitory. Ginny went up to hers as well and prepared for bed so as not to arouse her roommates' suspicions. She closed the curtains round her bed and lay down, preparing to wait out the time until she was to meet Harry. At midnight she parted her curtains just the tiniest bit, to check whether there was anyone who could see her. The other three beds in her room were closed off by their own curtains, indicating that their owners were either asleep or pretending to be. Stealthily, Ginny slid out of bed and opened her trunk, pulling out the Marauder's Map that Harry had given her, touching it with her wand and whispering, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good." The map's text and pictures spread, spiderweb-like, across the page as she pushed her feet into her slippers and stuck her arms into her dressing gown. It looked like the corridor outside the portrait hole was clear. Good. Pulling her knapsack over her shoulder, she tiptoed down the stairs and toward the common room. The fire was still going and a few people remained scattered about the room. Ginny hovered on the landing, biting her lip. How was she supposed to get past all these people without anyone asking where she'd gone? The idea of transforming into her Animagus form to go out her dormitory window and get down to a lower floor skittered through her brain, then she banished it. It wouldn't work; for one thing, she wasn't entirely sure of her transformation, and for another, flight was difficult to manage even for those who'd been Animagi for some time; she'd had no practice to speak of, except on brooms. She really didn't fancy the idea of plummeting twelve stories. No, there had to be another way. She leaned her shoulder against the wall, her brain working furiously. An idea began to form in the back of her mind. Hmm. Maybe I could put them all to sleep? No, that could get me into a lot of trouble if I'm found out. But then, so could sneaking down to meet Harry in the DA room, where I'm fairly certain he's not supposed to be. She chewed on her lip for a few moments, but no other ideas came to mind, and time was passing quickly. I'm going to have to, she thought reluctantly. But it only lasts for a few minutes anyway. Maybe they'll think they just dozed off. She pulled her wand out and pointed it at the near-empty common room. "Soporificus Totalis," she whispered. Almost immediately she noticed the heads of those still in the room beginning to droop, and after a minute or so every one of them was sound asleep. She crept downstairs and through the common room as swiftly and silently as she could. Just as she was reaching for the portrait to push it open, the sound of the clock chiming the quarter hour made her freeze. She swung back around to glance around the room, praying it didn't wake anyone. A second-year whose head was pillowed on his arms at the table by the window gave a small grunt, shifting in his sleep and sending terror shooting through Ginny's heart. She clambered quickly through the portrait hole, shutting it behind her. "And just where do you think you're going at this hour, Miss?" the Fat Lady said in a tone that brooked no refusal. "Meeting," Ginny said hurriedly, waving the Marauder's Map as she jogged down the hallway toward the Room of Requirement, which was also on the seventh floor. "Professor McGonagall asked me to come by. Top secret. From the Ministry, you know. Don't expect me back soon." "Now you wait just a minute, young lady!" the Fat Lady called irritably, but by that point Ginny turned a corner, where she was out of sight of the portrait, and there paused, breathing heavily. She hoped the Fat Lady wouldn't raise an alarm, and wished suddenly that Harry had thought to give her his Invisibility Cloak as well as his map. Speaking of which… She lit her wand and checked the map. Mrs. Norris was near the Charms classroom; Filch was puttering about in the Astronomy Tower, no doubt trying to catch students out-of-bounds and snogging; Peeves was in the Great Hall. It was safe, at least for the moment. Keeping one eye on the map and the other on where she was going, she headed down toward the Room of Requirement. The tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy finally loomed up out of the darkness, and across from it was the familiar blank wall. Ginny checked the map again, saw that the coast was still clear, and began walking back and forth, focusing on Harry and her need to see him. Three times she passed the tapestry, until finally, turning, she saw that the door had appeared in the wall opposite. Heart pounding, she ran to it and slipped inside, shutting it quietly behind her and leaning against it, looking around. The room had become a beautifully-furnished bachelor suite. The carpet was a lovely colonial blue, and in front of the fireplace that blazed merrily on one wall was a huge, plush couch of a slightly darker blue. In the corner was a bed with blue brocade hangings, and another door in the wall beyond the fireplace opened onto what Ginny suspected was some sort of bathroom. The whole place was lovely and homey. But she didn't see Harry anywhere. She glanced around for a clock, finding that one had appeared above the mantelpiece when she wasn't looking. It was spot-on twelve-thirty. Where was he? She stepped away from the door, turning to whisper a quick Locking charm before moving toward the sofa. Maybe he was delayed a bit at the Ministry, she told herself. He'll be along any moment. I'll just wait for him here. She came round the front of the sofa and stopped, for there was Harry, lying on his back fully dressed and in his stocking feet, with one arm over his eyes and the other hanging off the edge of the sofa. He appeared to be sound asleep. Smiling softly, she tiptoed over to stand beside him. His glasses were on the side table, and above his arm she could see a small wrinkle in his forehead, as though he had a headache. Half concerned, half simply longing to touch him, she reached out and smoothed her hand over his forehead. His arm came off his eyes, and he smiled at her, taking hold of her wrist and pulling her gently down to lay atop him. "Hi," he said, shifting her slightly so that their faces were even. "Hi," she whispered back, and then their lips met. His arms wrapped round her, holding her tightly to him, and she slid her hands beneath his shoulders. He tasted as he had always tasted, of the wildness of the windswept moors and the strength of the Highlands, its mountains arching toward the sky. She melted into the safety of his embrace and let the world disappear. She had no idea how long they remained there, snogging obliviously on the sofa; she only came back to herself when she felt Harry's hands bury themselves in her hair and gently, gently tug upward, separating the two of them. She let the kiss end, and smiled down at Harry. His eyes shone at her, pulling her into them, deep as the sea. "I've missed you," he said hoarsely. She felt something swell warmly within her chest. "And I've missed you." I'm sorry I had to run off like that last weekend," he began. She touched his lips with a finger. "Don't apologise," she said. "I know why you did. And I know it wasn't your idea." She kissed him again, softly. "Mm. No, it wasn't." He slid a hand down to cup her face, stroking his thumb along her cheekbone. "But I'm still not happy about it." The wrinkles formed between his eyebrows again as he looked deeply into her eyes. "It feels too much like abandonment." "No, Harry. Oh, no." She propped herself up on her elbows and looked intently down at him. "You would never abandon me. Never. I know that. I know you." The clock above the mantel struck one with delicate Westminster chimes. Harry simply gazed into her eyes for a long moment, then the furrow between his brows disappeared and he smiled. "Bed?" he suggested huskily. The warmth swelled again, flowing out of her heart and into every part of her body. "I thought you'd never ask." -------------------- Ginny trotted down the last flight of marble stairs toward the Great Hall. It was nearly halfway through breakfast, and Harry had insisted she go down for it. "In case your friends get concerned," he'd said. Ginny had to admit it was probably a necessary precaution; after the disappearances last weekend, everyone was keeping a closer eye on each other. "Ginny!" Colin waved to her from the end of the table where they usually sat. His brother Dennis and Dennis's yearmate and girlfriend, Natalie MacDonald, sat across from him. Ginny joined them, settling onto the bench to Colin's left. "Where have you been?" Colin asked as Ginny started filling her plate with eggs, bacon, and toast. "Your roommates said your bed was empty when they got up this morning." Ginny shrugged. "I woke up early," she said, "and couldn't get back to sleep, so I decided to do some more work on my Animagus form. I went down to the DA room and nearly lost track of time. Glad I didn't miss breakfast; I'm starving." Which was true; but the reason for it was not precisely what she'd implied. She grinned at the thought. "We were thinking of taking our brooms out and having a bit of fun this afternoon," Natalie said in her soft Highland lilt. Dennis watched her with his usual bemused, infatuated smile. "Will you join us?" "I don't think so, thanks," Ginny said, trying hard not to blush. "I promised McGonagall I'd do some more work on my transformation. I'm frightfully behind where she thinks I should be; I skived off a bit of practising last week when we had all those essays due, and she was less than amused." Which was also true; Ginny felt a small twinge of guilt for skiving off today as well. But Harry's here, she thought, trying to ignore the small leap of pleasure at the knowledge. I never get to see him any more. Surely we can have one day to ourselves! "You're working awfully hard, Gin," Colin said, frowning. "You need to take a bit of a rest. I'm getting worried about you." "I went to Hogsmeade last weekend," Ginny pointed out. Colin's face didn't clear, and she sighed. "Colin, really, I'm fine, I promise. One day when I wake up early and can't go back to sleep won't hurt me. I can always go to bed early tonight. And we'll do something fun tomorrow," she added, hoping to get him off her back. "Okay?" "All right," he said, his tone indicating that he wasn't quite willing to let it go there. Then he sighed, and a small smile played around his mouth. "Besides, I think Orla is free today." Ginny laughed along with Dennis and Natalie. Colin had fancied Orla Quirke, a Ravenclaw seventh-year, for some time, and had finally got up the courage to ask her out last weekend. "So your date in Hogsmeade went well, did it?" Ginny said impishly. Colin colored, and she laughed again. "Fine, fine, fine," he growled unconvincingly, resting his cheek on his fist and playing with his eggs while trying to hide a grin. "I'll quit pestering you if you leave me alone about Orla. Fair?" "Eminently." Ginny popped the last bite of toast into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed. "And now I'd better get back at it. I was making some good progress, but I was getting so hungry I couldn't concentrate." "Won't you tell us what your Animagus form is?" Dennis asked for the umpteenth time. "Please? I've been dying to know." "I dunno, you look pretty healthy to me," Ginny said, straight-faced. Natalie giggled, and Ginny allowed herself to grin. "You know I can't, Dennis," she said. "I've explained all this before. Until I'm fully trained, I'm not to transform in front of anybody or tell anyone what my form is. McGonagall is the only one who's supposed to know." "I know, I know," Dennis said, sighing. "And you're not to leave Hogwarts grounds in your Animagus form, and you're not to transform in front of anyone except McGonagall, and as soon as you can hold your form for more than ten minutes straight you're to register with the Ministry." "Wow," Ginny said. "You do listen occasionally." She ducked the piece of toast he flung at her and stood. "I'll see you lot later," she said. "I'll not be at lunch; the Room usually provides. I'll be at dinner, though." Another thing Harry had made her promise: the more 'normal' her day appeared to be, the less likely anyone was to suspect anything. And since she'd got the impression that he hadn't precisely cleared his appearance on school grounds with the Headmistress, she decided she'd better try to make it look good. "See you later, Ginny," Dennis said as Natalie waved and the two of them headed towards the door. Colin gave her a hard look before finally saying, "Yes, see you, Ginny." He did not seem placated by the quick wave she gave him before she also headed out of the Hall and up the stairs to the seventh floor. When she entered the Room of Requirement, she found Harry fully dressed, his hair still damp from showering but just dry enough to begin sticking up in the back. He was sitting on the sofa, reading, but glanced up when he heard the door open. A smile lit his face, and she couldn't help but smile back as she locked the door with a spell and came around to the front of the sofa. Harry held out an arm in invitation and she sat down next to him, leaning in for a kiss. "Did you eat?" she asked. "A lovely breakfast for one appeared just after you left," he said, wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her close. "Did you put your friends off the scent?" "I don't think they were ever on it," she said honestly, "though Colin did wonder where I'd been. My roommates told him I was gone when they got up. So I told him I got up early and came down here for a little extra practise." She let her eyes twinkle at him, and he chuckled. "Just so long as you don't tell them what you were really practising, I think we're fine," he said, and they laughed together. As the laughter died down, Ginny rested her head on his shoulder and sighed. "I've missed this," she said softly. "Being with you." She felt his lips press against the top of her head. "So have I," he said. "We didn't get much of a chance last weekend." "No." Ginny shifted a bit uncomfortably as she felt her cheeks growing warm. She'd tried so hard not to think of her nightmare, her hysterics, all week, but now that Harry had brought it up, she couldn't just let it go any more. "Harry, I'm sorry," she blurted, feeling her cheeks flaming even more. He pulled back in surprise and looked down at her. "Sorry?" he repeated, confusion plainly written on his face. "Sorry for what?" Embarrassment flooded her, and she looked down. "For...Saturday night," she muttered, eyes on her hands. "You know...screaming, and crying all over you, and...and..." "Oh, Ginny, no, don't." He placed a knuckle under her chin and pulled her face up so he could look into her eyes again. "Don't apologise, love, you didn't do anything wrong." She shook her head. "I shouldn't have broken down like that—" "Bollocks," Harry interrupted tenderly. "You had every right to. Come here, love." Gentle hands pulled her into his lap; she let them, anxious for the comfort they could give. He settled her across his thighs and caressed her hair soothingly. "What you went through was more than enough to give anyone nightmares, Ginny," he said. "And then to discover that what you'd had to do to save us all had cost us a child…" She stiffened, and he kissed her temple. "Your choices were nil," he said. "Even if you'd known about the baby, you'd never have been able to live with yourself if you'd done anything else." She opened her mouth to protest, but the words she'd thought she was going to say were somehow replaced by something else, a mantra she'd uttered in the deepest parts of her heart during long hours alone in the night: "I had the chance to give you a family of your own, a real family, and I gave that up," she said desperately. "I destroyed it, and I'd do it again if I had to. How can you forgive that, Harry? How can you ever forgive me for that?" Then she stopped, horrified. Her hands came up to cover her mouth, and she stared at the stunned look on his face. My God…what did I just say? How could I have said that? Harry's jaw dropped and he stared at her. A moment which felt like an eternity passed before he found his voice again. "Ginny," he said, a note of shock in his voice, "my God, do you really think that? Do you really think I can't forgive you because that was my child?" She couldn't drag her eyes away from his. Still pressing her fingers to her mouth, she nodded slowly. She had never consciously thought it, but that was the fear that had been lurking in the pit of her stomach since Madam Pomfrey had told her about the baby. The terror that had made her hide the whole thing from him for months. He's always wanted a family, and I stole that from him… He reached up and pulled her hands away from her mouth, holding them tightly in his. "Ginny, I want you to listen to me," he said intently. "I don't blame you for any of it. There's nothing for me to forgive, love, because it wasn't your fault. If anyone was to blame, it was Voldemort, not you. Never you." Her gaze was pinned by his; she felt as though she were sinking into that intense emerald. The knot of fear within her began to weaken slightly despite herself. "I…" she said hesitantly. "I…" He sighed and raised one of her hands to his lips, kissing her palm. "All right," he said. "Let's turn this around, then." The fear returned with a vengeance, seizing her heart. "What do you mean?" His face was serious, his voice quiet. "When I went down to Hogsmeade, I had every intention of calling the Fynalle Strykke," he said. "I knew I was going to die, but I thought it was worth it, to save all the people who would have otherwise died at Voldemort's command. You asked me not to go—you begged me, but I went anyway. Planning to die. Planning to end all chance of a life for us together—of children, a family, a future." He paused for a moment, then asked, "Can you forgive me?" She jerked back, startled. "Forgive you?" she repeated. "For what?" His eyes bored into hers. "I was actively trying to destroy your chance for a family," he said deliberately. "It wasn't an accident; it was completely intentional. How can you forgive me for that?" She shook her head. "You did not go down there actively trying to destroy my chance for a family, Harry," she said. "You went down there to—oh." Sudden understanding blossomed in her heart. His words from the previous weekend echoed in her ears: "It was War, love. If you hadn't called the Fynalle Strykke, I would have died. You would have died. The baby would have died." Harry was nodding slowly. "Yes," he said. "Exactly. And if I were in the same situation now as I was that night, I'd do it again, with no hesitation. Even knowing that it would end in my death, that it would leave you alone, I'd do it, because our happiness is not worth the suffering of the rest of the world." He dropped her hands and slid one arm around her waist, cupping her cheek with the other and tilting his head forward to rest his forehead against hers. "Your choice, if you made it again, is infinitely harder," he whispered. "But it was an easier choice in March. It was just like mine, then; as far as you knew, all you were risking was yourself. You can't be held responsible for what you didn't know. And there's no way I can blame you for doing exactly what I would have done—what I tried to do!" Ginny felt tears begin to slide down her cheeks as his words finally, finally made their way into the corners of her soul that had been so black for so long, lighting them and bringing warmth to the chill darkness. Maybe, she thought hesitantly, maybe it wasn't my fault. He pulled back and reached up to wipe the tears from her cheeks with his thumbs. "I have something for you," he said. He shifted, and she sat up as he pulled his arm from around her and reached into his sleeve for his wand. "Accio box!" A small parcel levitated off the bedside table and zoomed over toward him. He caught it and turned to her, a bashful smile spreading across his face. "I had a gift to give you last weekend," he said, "but I think this is...more appropriate at the moment." She took it from him, turning it over in her hands. It was a small box, about three inches on a side, and wrapped in a light blue paper with a ribbon tied into a bow on top. She untied the ribbon and unwrapped the box, revealing a small, velvet-covered jewelry box in side. She pulled the jewelry box out and, fingers trembling, opened the hinge—then gasped. Inside was a heart-shaped gold pendant on a chain. Two stones sparkled inside the heart: an opal and a ruby. They were identical in size and were placed right next to each other in the center of the heart. As she turned the box toward the light to see better, the opal sparked fire in its milky-white depths, and the ruby glittered as firelight glanced off its facets. "It's beautiful, Harry," she breathed. "They're our birthstones," he said softly. "Opal is October's and ruby is July's." He reached for the box. "Here, let me put it on you." She watched as he pulled the chain free, then lifted her hair so he could fasten it around her neck. He dropped a kiss on her nape. "Turn around and let me see." She shifted on his lap and he smiled, touching the pendant where it rested against her jumper, just above her breasts. "It suits you," he said. "I knew it would." Ginny smiled as well, and bent to kiss him. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you so much. It's so lovely." His smile turned sly. "You haven't seen everything yet," he said. "Wrap your hand around it and see what happens." Curious, she did as he said, and nearly jumped out of her skin when his voice rang in her ears, though his mouth was closed. "I love you, Ginny. Never forget how much I love you." She let go the pendant and looked at him in amazement. "What did you do?" she asked. "I Charmed it." He slid both arms around her and pulled her tight against his chest. "I can't tell you myself as often as I'd like, so I spelled the pendant to do it for me." He grinned. "That's not all it says, but you'll have to experiment later, because right now, I'm really more interested in telling you myself." She grinned back. "I think I can let you do that, Mr. Potter." She wrapped her arms around his neck and shifted position, straddling him before she bent down to touch her lips to his. His mouth opened willingly, and the world faded from her consciousness again as she was caught up in him and in the joy of being together. His hands slid up her back, caressing through her cotton t-shirt as she trailed her fingertips down to rest against his chest. He broke off the kiss after a moment, leaning back to look into her eyes. "Ginny," he said hoarsely, "are you—okay now? I mean—" She bit her lip and touched her fingers gently to his collarbones, tracing their curve. "I'm better than I was," she said honestly. "I'm beginning to … accept. But it's going to take time, I think." "I know." He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I know, love. I don't expect you to be just like you were before the Battle. I just … don't want you hurting like you were." His eyes were haunted, and she felt her heart twinge with love for him. "It still hurts," she told him. "But … " she smiled as the realisation came to her. "I think I'm beginning to forgive myself." The smile that lit Harry's face and eyes was so bright that it nearly illuminated the entire room. "Then you're on your way," he said, and claimed her mouth again. She leaned into the kiss, moaning as he pulled her hips closer to him, cupping his hands over her bum. She ran her fingers down his chest toward the hem of his shirt, then slipped them beneath the fabric, lightly touching the rock-hard muscles of his abdomen. He pulled away, stifling a laugh. "Don't. That tickles." "What does? This?" She drew her fingers along his stomach again, making him laugh again and twist, trying to take hold of her hands. "Yes, that. Stop!" He was nearly giggling now—giggling! Harry, of all people! she thought—and a bubbling joy burst through her. She loved to hear him laugh. A wicked smile twisted her lips and she attacked him relentlessly, until suddenly his own hands had worked their way beneath her shirt and the tables were turned. She yelped in surprise and fell backwards, but ended up lying on the sofa next to Harry, instead of on the floor. He glanced up, as startled as she. "Wow," he said. Ginny realised the sofa had doubled in width to accommodate the two of them lying down. "Guess this room is well-named." Harry looked down at her again, and suddenly they were kissing once more, their bodies pressed together. Ginny moaned as he shifted, now lying half atop her, his weight pressing her into the sofa cushions. He leaned up on one arm and grinned. "I think we should take it slowly," he said throatily as his other hand wandered down her body. "We've got all day, after all." Ginny just smiled and pulled him down for a kiss. "Then let's not waste it," she purred. A/N: A great, big, sloppy thank-you to Michele, who gave me the idea for the charm on Ginny's pendant. It made that whole scene come together, and has given me lots of cool ideas for later chapters. Thank you also to Ahmie, who was more than a bit distracted, but came through like a champ. I'll let her tell you why she's distracted. I'm sorry this has been so long getting out, but I was sans computer for a week, and then spent several days fighting with my Internet connection. Oh, and I was unpacking from a move, and starting a new job. And my sister was sick and had surgery. I really had enough to be getting on with for awhile… but I did miss writing while I was occupied. I'm going to try very hard to get the next few chapters out fairly quickly. Thank you for your patience, all of you! Please review.
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