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Author: St Margarets Story: Magic Within, Magic Without Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-HBP Status: Completed Reviews: 30 Words: 82,984
Aunt Martha discovered Ginny's project the next day at breakfast. "Draco Malfoy is an Animagus!" The Jarvey could be heard loud and clear through the open kitchen window. "What on earth?" Aunt Martha looked up from her marmalade toast at Ginny and Harry. "That Jarvey has been insulting my cats for years – now he's suddenly gone after this Malfoy person?" "Oh," Ginny spoke up, wondering if Aunt Martha was going to be put out. "I thought it would be funny to teach it something… new." It did sound incredibly immature in the clear light of day. Aunt Martha laughed so long that Ginny looked to Harry in astonishment. "Oh, I wish I had thought of that!" Aunt Martha declared. "All my enemies cut down to size in the kitchen garden." She wiped her eyes and continued. "I suppose I should be rebuking you for insulting some poor chap who isn't here to defend himself – but if he is a Malfoy, I'm sure he deserves it." "Do you know the Malfoys?" Harry asked. "This generation, no," she answered, sipping her tea. "Marcus Malfoy wanted to marry me after my husband died – to get his hands on this estate, of course." She frowned. "The Malfoys have always been in competition with the Hathaways. Their estate is of a similar size as this one, but they have never been as successful. Upstart family that they are." "Upstart?" Harry asked. "I thought they were one of the oldest pure-blood families in Britain?" "Only since Norman times," Aunt Martha waved away nine hundred years of tenancy with the flick of her wrist. "Like I told you, the Weasleys have been here since before Roman times." "But I thought..." Harry was regarding Aunt Martha intently. "I thought the Malfoys were rolling in gold." "Oh, they may be rich in gold – probably through illegal means," Aunt Martha agreed. "But they have never managed their lands the way they should. In fact, I heard a rumor that nothing is growing on their estate in Wiltshire this summer." "What do you mean?" Ginny asked. "The weather has been perfect this summer." She thought about the lush orchards and fields they had seen by moonlight on their broom ride from the Burrow. Aunt Martha shrugged. "I can't pretend to understand the Dark Arts, but I do know that those methods can affect the magic without as well as the magic within." Ginny looked out on to the golden summer morning. "No wizard could conjure that," Aunt Martha said, following Ginny's glance. "That is magic even the Muggles share with us. Yet it can be sullied and twisted. Look what Dark wizards have done to perfectly good snakes – turned them into Basilisks and the like." She shook her head. "The Malfoys have exploited their land and the very magic they carry around inside of themselves. And what for? Power? Gold?" Ginny wasn't surprised at Aunt Martha's explanation. It seemed to fit what she and Harry had talked about at the stone circle. Suddenly she felt afraid for this beautiful place. It seemed precariously balanced, tipped toward the good side – but a few with evil in their hearts could change it all. Aunt Martha read her worried frown. "This magic has power all its own, Ginny. You saw the well – you saw the inexhaustible fountain. Water can kill and it can bring life. Don't be afraid for the magic without – it's the magic within the ordinary witch or wizard that is the most susceptible to corruption." Didn't she know that? Ginny thought. She glanced at Harry who had endured You-know-who knocking at the door of his mind all last year. He knew it too. At their long faces, Aunt Martha said briskly, "My goodness, how did we become so serious? Especially after Ginny's very humorous project. Now who is this Draco person?" "The son of Lucius Malfoy," Harry ground out. "The latest generation," Aunt Martha acknowledged. "I think I encountered that boy's mother this spring at the solicitors. She quite rudely asked me if I was a Weasley. I, of course, didn't answer her. Why should I, when we never had been properly introduced? I heard her asking the secretary, Harriet, the same question." Ginny exchanged another glance with Harry. Was there some way the Malfoys had ferreted out information that would connect Ginny to the Hathaway estate? "Of course, Harriet wouldn't know – poor silly dear," Aunt Martha continued. "Speaking of my solicitor's – I have an appointment today – even though it is a Saturday. Harry, are you still planning on helping the wizards with the hay?" "Yeah," he replied. "What are you going to do, Ginny?" He looked at her with concern, probably remembering what she had told him last night… "I reckon I'll do some homework and then work out in the garden," she said in as jaunty a tone as she could muster. "I also have letters to write," she added, thinking of the paper airplane memos. "What homework do you have to do, my dear?" Aunt Martha asked. "I have to write an essay about a magical creature." Ginny had thought she would look up kelpies, but now she was curious to know more about snakes. "There are many reference books over at the manor house," Aunt Martha offered. "You don't know any books about Patronuses?" Ginny asked. "Patronuses!" Aunt Martha sputtered. "We didn't learn about them until our seventh year. And even then, most of us couldn't conjure one." "Harry can – he learned his third year." Aunt Martha's jaw dropped as she looked at Harry with new respect. "My goodness – you must have strength of mind." She shook her head. "I do remember one helpful tip from my school days. You know how the Dementor has a kiss that sucks out your soul?" She smiled mischievously. "Our Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher told us about the Patronus kiss." "What's that?" Harry asked. "Oh – just a kiss that could draw the best out of you – to conjure your Patronus. It's not usually one from your brother, however," Aunt Martha said with a wink. Harry grinned. "I could have used one of those when I was learning." "I don't think a third year would know what to do with one," Aunt Martha said, tartly. Harry laughed. "Probably not." "Find yourself a Patronus kiss, Ginny – that should solve your problem." Ginny used every technique she had ever learned not to blush at that moment. She looked at an empty spot on the wall; she inhaled through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. She must have looked like Luna Lovegood at her dreamiest worst, but she didn't care. She was not going to blush. By the time she had collected herself, Aunt Martha was leaving the table and Lotty was handing Harry an enormous picnic basket for his day spent in the fields. No one was looking at her. And why should they? she thought. No one here was offering a Patronus kiss. * Ginny settled down with the stacks of books she had gathered from the very impressive library in the manor house. After sending Percy the letter about the memo charm, she was ready to do some research. She scratched out a few notes, and then stared off into the distance, thinking about what Aunt Martha had said about Patronus kisses. She couldn't imagine how just kissing anybody would make you happy enough to produce a Patronus. She frowned. Maybe that wasn't what Aunt Martha meant. But if she had to wait around for someone special to kiss her, like a prince in a fairy tale, then she was going to be well out of Hogwarts before she could do a Patronus. She rubbed the quill feather over her lips. Kisses weren't really the end-all as far as Ginny was concerned. She had only kissed one boy – and they had kissed many times over the course of a year, so she had a bit of experience… But she liked holding hands and warm hugs better. Michael's kisses were always so… wet. Maybe there was something wrong with her. Her girlfriends talked about those kinds of kisses – they used words like luscious and yummy. She sighed and pulled the next book off the stack. Only chocolate and ice cream deserved those adjectives as far as she was concerned. What she read next pushed all thoughts of kisses out of her mind. On the yellowing page was an illustration of the Basilisk and then a piece of information she had never heard before: However, even the Basilisk has natural enemies. The weasel is immune to its glance and if it gets bitten, it withdraws from the fight to eat some rue, the only plant that does not wither, and returns with renewed strength. Many times since her first year she had wondered how she ever spent time with a Basilisk and didn't die from its glance. Now she wondered if her last name was some sort of a clue… "Draco Malfoy is an Animagus!" the Jarvey cried. Ginny pushed her hair out of her eyes and laughed at herself. Unless she was an Animagus – there was no way she would have the same protections as a weasel, just because of her name. Obviously she had been spending too much time with Aunt Martha. Still her wand was rue, she thought, as she took it out and examined it closely. No teeth marks, so she mustn't have needed to ingest little bits her first year. Shaking her head at her own silliness, she put her wand back in her pocket. She was going to teach the Jarvey a few more words and then she was going for a long walk. * When Ginny returned from her walk, she found a note from Aunt Martha telling her that she was lying down after a trying session at the solicitors. This worried her a little, until she remembered that Aunt Martha was over a hundred years old and it was a very hot afternoon. It was so hot that Ginny had treated herself to a swim. She had followed the river until she had found a deep, calm pool. Her mother would have been scandalized, but Ginny found it the most wonderful thing in the world to strip down to her knickers and plunge into the cool water. She had no nosey brothers to bother with – all the workers were in the fields – so she had complete privacy. Not even that stupid cow found her. She hadn't bothered to dry her hair, so she was still deliciously cool, even after the walk back to the cottage. "Did you go swimming?" Harry asked, trudging into the kitchen. "Oh, I thought you were still out in the fields." "We did enough for today." He sank into a chair gingerly. "I think I got too much sun." She looked at him closely. He looked tired and a bit dirty, but he wasn't sunburned. "You did the Umbra Charm didn't you?" she asked, handing him a glass of water. He took a long drink before he nodded. "Did you say it right?" "Of course I said it right!" She walked around him. His neck was scarlet. "Harry, you didn't say it right! I suppose you forgot to say the 'e' on the end." "E?" "Umbrae. You pronounce the e to make it plural – that way the charm covers all of you." She sighed at his carelessness. "I suppose you weren't wearing your shirt the whole time?" "I was hot," he said sulkily. "Take off your shirt," she commanded, lighting a fire under the cauldron with a swish of her wand. "What?" She started poking through the cupboards, looking for Aunt Martha's potion stocks. "I'm going to make you a poultice – an old Weasley family recipe for sunburn. Ron says that incantation wrong at least once a summer, so I've had a lot of practice." She threw willow bark, mint and daisy juice into the simmering water. "Do I have to drink that?" Harry asked, slowly lifting his t-shirt over his head. He was wincing in pain. "A poultice draws out the poison, or the heat, or whatever is ailing you," she answered. "Madam Pomfrey uses them all the time." She tapped the side of the cauldron three times. Immediately the water turned blue and stopped bubbling. "Um – I seemed to specialize in broken bones – that sort of thing." He was leaning forward so his back didn't touch the chair. "Harry," she scolded, "didn't you feel yourself burning to a crisp?" His back looked painfully red. Having finally found clean, white linen tea towels in a drawer, Ginny proceeded to dip them in the cauldron. Then she wrung them out and placed them on Harry's back. He bit his lip with the first contact, but then his face relaxed. "That does feel better." "Nothing better than a poultice," Ginny said, draping a dripping towel around his neck. "Another rule to live by," Harry said. "Enunciate and concentrate whilst doing charms," Ginny answered, imitating Professor Flitwick's high voice. "Right." He sighed and closed his eyes. "I'm even feeling sorry for this arm," Ginny said fondly, as she wrapped a towel around it. She could see the line between red and white where the shadow charm had ended. Then she noticed a scar on his upper arm – it was straight – like he had been deliberately cut. She frowned and opened her mouth to ask him about it, when she remembered with horrible clarity The Quibbler article where Harry had described Voldemort's re-birth… "Right." She tried to keep her tone brisk. "Just leave those for a moment. I have to find some cauldron scrapings." "Now what am I going to smell like?" he groaned. "A summer's day," she said sarcastically. "All your new mates will be impressed." "I can always roll in the barn," he said in a long-suffering voice. "Don't mess up my handiwork," she warned, taking off the towels and throwing them in the sink. The redness was completely gone, she noted with satisfaction. "I'm going to put this hydrating cream on your back." "Do you have to?" "Yes," she answered severely. "Now you'll remember." "Oh, I'll remember," he muttered. She giggled and put a liberal amount on her hands. "How many buckets of that stuff are you using?" he complained. "Your skin will absorb it. Honestly, the whinging." She briskly started to rub her hands all over his back. Right away she noticed that there seemed to be a lot of area on his back. His shoulders were a lot broader than she had realized. And he had beautiful, clear skin. Not a freckle on him. She swallowed. She wasn't supposed to be noticing things like that and she wasn't supposed to be slowing her hands down so she could savor the texture of his skin and the cords of muscle underneath. Somehow she had to find her professional Healer manner again. "About done?" Harry asked in a curt voice. "Yes," she answered, feeling her face burn. Obviously he didn't like her touching him. He quickly pulled on his shirt and walked to the door. "Um, I forgot the picnic basket. I'll just go now." He was practically babbling. Ginny watched him hurry toward the barns, wondering why he didn't just Accio the basket back. * Harry didn't return until it was time for him to carve the very large fish – complete with staring eyes – that Lotty produced for dinner. The elf had arranged whirls of mashed potatoes around it, so it appeared to be swimming in some sort of vegetable ocean. Amused, Harry caught Ginny's eye, shrugged, and started slicing according to Aunt Martha's instructions. Whatever awkwardness that had occurred between them earlier seemed to be gone, much to Ginny's relief. Harry excused himself after dinner, however, saying he was tired from his day spent outdoors. He did look tired, but Ginny wished he would stay a little longer. She didn't relish an entire evening with Aunt Martha. Dutifully, she followed her aunt into the sitting room. Pamela trailed behind them with the fish head in her mouth. "Will the smell ever leave this room?" worried the anxiety clock. Aunt Martha looked startled since she hadn't noticed the cat until then. "Out – you." Pamela was in too good of a mood to take offense and left with her tail held high. "Ginny dear, can you reach that album on the third shelf? I want to show you some photos." Ginny strained to reach the leather-bound volume but she had to give up. "My, you are petite," Aunt Martha said. "Use the stepping stool there." When she brought the album over to her aunt, Ginny thought it was time for her to address this subject. She was tired of the comments about her height. "Aunt Martha," she began, in what she hoped was a respectful, non-whiny voice. "I don't like it when you talk about how short I am." Aunt Martha sat back on the settee and let the album fall out of her lap on to the floor. "Why ever not?" she asked as Ginny bent to pick up the album. "I would have given my eye teeth to have your height when I was a young woman." Now it was Ginny's turn to stare in astonishment. "What do you mean?" "My dear, it is not easy to be a tall woman – especially during the school years. It was bad enough that I stood out from the crowd with this red hair – but to be taller than all of the girls and most of the most of the boys, just added insult to injury." "Oh." "Of course my attitude didn't help. My fourth year, John Hathaway asked me to Hogsmeade and I said no because he was too short." Aunt Martha laughed. "I don't think he looked in my direction for another year." "That wasn't very – er – tactful," Ginny said with a smile. "I was never known for my tact – even then. My sister, Mary, was the angelic one. I was the prickly, defensive, tall Weasley girl." She sighed and shook her head. "Then my fifth year, when we all gathered in the Great Hall for the Welcoming Feast, I looked over at the Slytherin table and saw a tall, handsome boy with the naughtiest eyes – looking at me." She sighed happily. "It was John, of course. After the Feast he followed me to the Hufflepuff cellar instead of going to the Slytherin dungeons. 'Am I tall enough to take you to Hogsmeade now, Marty?' he said. I couldn't believe he had forgiven me for being so awful and I couldn't believe he still wanted to take me out." "You married a Slytherin?" Ginny asked, not quite believing it possible. "Oh yes, they aren't all bad you know," Aunt Martha said. "A few bad apples have given them a poor reputation over the years. John was always ambitious and he knew what he wanted. I'd say those were the two most Slytherin things about him. He needed to be single-minded when it came to running this estate. He inherited it at a young age." Ginny tried to absorb the idea of a good Slytherin. "I'm sorry if you thought I was criticizing you," Aunt Martha said gently. "You're a sensitive person like your mother." "You think Mum is sensitive?" Ginny asked. She had never really talked to an objective party about her mother. "Oh, yes. And she has the kind of face anyone can read. That's why she's so much fun to tease – even though I shouldn't do it." Aunt Martha's eyes twinkled behind her spectacles. "I remember when Arthur brought her here as a young bride. They were so in love. And she was such a pretty slip of a thing – just like you, Ginny. Remember?" She turned to the Tobey mugs. "Beautiful gel," said the judge. "Of course I put my foot in right away when I commented on how young she looked. She didn't say anything, of course – but I never could make her feel comfortable after that." Ginny thought about those annual visits and how Mum nervously warned them to be on their best behavior. Then Mum would spend all of her time on how her children looked and not on her own appearance – so that when it was time to leave the house, she would moan, "Arthur, I look a mess, what's Martha going to say this time?" "Maybe you shouldn't say anything at all about how people look," Ginny pointed out. Aunt Martha laughed. "Good advice. I think I must apologize to your mother one of these days. Try to clear the air. She was always so worried about one of you touching the figurines or saying the wrong thing – we could never really have a cozy chat." "But–" Ginny frowned. "You didn't want us touching the figurines." "Bah – you couldn't hurt them – not even those twin brothers of yours." "She's right you know," piped up the balloon lady. "Little Johnny used to lug me around when he was first learning to walk. That's where I got this nick in my nose," she said pointing to the rather unsightly chip on her face. "Who was little Johnny?" Ginny asked without thinking. "My son," Aunt Martha said with a catch in her voice. "Oh – I – I'm sorry," she said lamely. "Thank you my dear," she said, her composure regained. "My little boy died two days after my husband – dragon pox took them both away – but not me." Aunt Martha gazed at her hands, sorrow in every line of her face. The Tobey mugs sniffed and the china lady in the purple ball gown dabbed her eyes. "He had John's eyes, and my hair – and a little personality all his own." Aunt Martha looked up then. "I was angry for so long," she admitted. "It was the fire that kept me going. But it was a cold fire." Ginny could only stare at her aunt in sympathy. Tears filled her eyes for the tall woman and the laughing husband and the sleeping toddler of the portrait. "You are a good girl," Aunt Martha said, her voice cracking, "for feeling sorry for a cranky old woman." Ginny was breathless with the pain of it. "How did you ever?" She couldn't imagine how you would ever get over something like that. "I worked," Aunt Martha said grimly. "I nurtured this estate, because I needed to love something. And then the London children came and I loved them too." The anxiety clock chimed eight times and said, "What will we do when these young people leave?" Aunt Martha laughed. "What indeed? I have so enjoyed both you and Harry. It's marvelous to have young people in the house." "Marvelous," the Tobey mugs chorused. Ginny felt even more teary then, hardly able to believe that in such a short time she was coming to love Aunt Martha. And that for all her gruffness, Aunt Martha was starting to love her, too. * The fine weather held. Each day, Harry went to work with the wizards in the fields and Ginny went swimming. Harry never made the same mistake with the Umbra charm, although he did develop an enviable tan. Ginny knew there was no magic – within – without – dark or light – which would allow her to tan. So she used the Umbra charm and enjoyed her privacy at the river pool. Besides swimming, she practiced with the water – finding that she could make the calm water burst into fountains or whirl in ever-faster spirals. Percy wrote back with the charm for the airplane memos with the caution that they couldn't fly very far. Now that Ginny knew she could contact Harry during an emergency, she slept well at night. As one golden day slipped into the next, Ginny was surprised at how little she was homesick. Since she had come to an understanding with Aunt Martha, she didn't feel she always had to be on her best behavior. A week after their arrival at Hathaway estate, she was surprised at her own contentment – even though the threats against her were still very real. She was thinking about none of this however, one late afternoon as she was returning through the kitchen garden from her swim in the river. She had been trying her Patronus all day, and she was getting frustrated. This led her to think about the Patronus kiss. Was there really a kiss that could draw the best possible magic inside of you – out? Or was it just Aunt Martha being provocative? Harry didn't need a kiss for him to conjure a Patronus – but then, he was a superior wizard, she reasoned. Who knew if he even liked kissing? Ginny snorted. Of course he liked kissing, didn't all blokes? Then she wondered if Cho liked Michael's rather wet kisses better than Harry's. Then that made her wonder about Harry's kisses. She could think about that while alone, couldn't she? Yes, it violated the giving-up-on-him rule, but she was trying to conjure a Patronus – this was purely academic. Whatever kind of kisses Cho and Harry had shared, she hoped their first one hadn't been like hers – with one person crying and the other not quite sure what to do. Her first kiss had come the day after the Tri-wizard Tournament when Harry had returned alive and Cedric hadn't. Her parents, Ron and Hermione – everyone – had been so upset. Michael had sought her out; she had cried for Harry – for all of them, really. And then Michael had kissed her. He was very sweet – had stayed very sweet – until she didn't need him to be sympathetic anymore. Michael didn't like her confident as well as he liked her dependent on him. That had taken her a long time to figure out. She sighed. It was going to take her just as long to conjure a Patronus at this rate. "Anything happening under those cabbage leaves?" Ginny jumped a foot in the air. "Harry! You startled me!" "Sorry." He grinned at her. "Why aren't you playing farmer?" "All done. It can rain all it likes now. The hay is in." "So speaks the city boy," she scoffed. He shrugged. "They didn't mind the city boy helping out. How's the Patronus going?" "It's not," she confessed. "Maybe you need more time." "Maybe." She was suddenly nervous because he was looking at her so intently. Like he could tell she had been thinking about him and kissing. Her eyes drifted to his mouth. She felt hot all over – maybe she had been walking faster than she thought. "Ginny.…" "What?" She pulled her eyes away from his mouth to meet his gaze. The heat seemed to be flowing through her veins until every inch of her body tingled. "Draco Malfoy has an Animagus!" They both jumped and glared at the Jarvey. Then Harry shrugged and grinned at her. "I can't wait to hear this finished project of yours."
A huge thanks to Corned Bee who talked me through the Latin for the Umbra Charm. As always, thanks to Sherry for the beta read and Julu for her encouragement.
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