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Author: Tarkas Story: Hunter and Maiden Rating: Teens Status: WIP Reviews: 23 Words: 204,697
[Oh, I’ll tell you a tale of a tail of a disclaimer... All of it can be found in the Prologue, but the little bit that stretches this far from there simply says that Harry et al. belong to JKR and all the companies lurking behind her; Orion et al(2). belong to DC, and they are already part of a huge conglomerate that lurks wherever it flamin’ well likes; so all that is left to ye author is the story, which I claim but only as an amateur, so there’s no material recompense involved -- only whatever my readers care to say about it to me.] ***** Hermione watched with a mixture of amusement and bemusement as Ginny raced out of the common room. Harry had the poor girl not quite sure whether she was coming or going as far as he was concerned... but Hermione wasn’t sure if that was deliberate or not, nor what it might mean if it was -- or if it wasn’t. She was fairly certain that Harry wasn’t maliciously toying with Ginny’s feelings for him; for a start, that was so unlike Harry as to be almost unthinkable; and secondly, he wasn’t getting anything out of it -- Ginny wasn’t unhappy, just confused, and he’d made no moves towards any form of physical relationship, so that couldn’t be a factor. No, unless Harry had somehow managed to become a singularly vile and patient seducer, one worthy to challenge Malfoy for the title of Most Evil, Loathsome Boy in the school -- except that Malfoy always had that one sewn up, and that sort of long-term Slytherin-style evil was utterly unlike Harry, whose patience had always had its limits, and fairly short ones, at that -- then his attentions to Ginny had to mean that he was truly interested in her, but was going about showing her that in a most odd way. She shook her head; there was something she was missing, there had to be... but she had no idea what it could be. It was a shame that she couldn’t ask Harry about it, but he’d shut up and pull right into his shell if she so much as broached the subject, however obliquely. She knew; she’d tried something like it earlier in the year, and he’d not spoken to her about anything other than schoolwork and Head Boy/Girl stuff for over a week. He’d been perfectly polite about it but, despite her best efforts, she’d been unable to have a conversation with him that consisted of more than pleasant civilities, much less one in private, until he’d started chatting to her one morning and she’d known that she was forgiven. Even that was unlike him: not the withdrawal -- that was pure Harry, something he’d done many times in the past -- but the manner of it. When he withdrew, he did his best to do so completely, seeing as little as possible of the people he was withdrawing from, and talking to them even less; for him to simply shut her out of part of his life -- and only part, rather than the whole or as much of that as he could manage -- was a major change in his behaviour, and she had to wonder what lay behind it. Not that she thought that there was much chance of finding out unless and until he was ready to tell her -- not with this new method that he had of avoiding answering awkward questions... Still, the fact that he reacted that way to her tentative enquiries had to mean that his relationship with Ginny was important to him, and that was the only real clue she had to whatever was going on between two of her best friends. At least it was a positive indication, so there was hope for Ginny -- and Harry, because he needed someone to care about and to care about him as more than just a friend, and she could think of no-one better for him than Ginny. She sighed softly, wishing she knew the full ins-and-outs of her friends’ relationship, but reconciled -- for now -- to it being a mystery, quite possibly to everyone, including the participants. She returned to her book and read in peace for a while; but then she found a small slip of parchment hidden between two pages. She unfolded it to find that it was a note from Harry: ---- Dear Hermione, Operation Romeo Bravo is about to get under way. Please keep Ron occupied today while G and I begin making the arrangements -- preferably so that he doesn’t notice that we’re not around. Will report progress to you this evening. Have fun! We will... HP ---- Hermione smiled. So that was going ahead today, was it? Well, occupying Ron was not exactly an onerous task, and she didn’t think that she would have too much trouble stopping him from wondering where his best mate and sister were. Of course, she had intended to start on that Charms essay, and she couldn’t do that while keeping Ron busy -- not if she had to guarantee that he wouldn’t leave and go looking for Harry or Ginny. That was unfortunate, but it occurred to her that Ron wouldn’t be awake for a while yet, so she could get some work done and then allow him to “distract” her... She closed the book and got up, heading for the girls’ stairs and her dormitory. She thought she could get a good half a roll done before her boyfriend emerged for the day to rescue her from her workaholic tendencies, and then she could relax and keep him busy while their friends went about the initial stages of their project. Ron was going to be so pleased about this, if it all worked out. Of course, with what Harry had planned, he was also likely to be utterly furious when he found out about parts of it.... ***** Ginny felt better, and a lot calmer, after spending a few minutes at “their spot.” She’d stood there for a moment or two, just basking in the warmth that the thought of the meaning of Harry’s gift filled her with despite all the logical arguments that part of her mind could think of -- that she didn’t know that he really meant what Hermione had suggested, that she was setting herself up for the most crushing disappointment she could imagine, that she was acting even more silly than she had when she was eleven, that her Plan would be in ruins if she didn’t stop -- and then she squealed with delight anyway. She sobered after she ran out of breath and began to think about what she should do in response to this latest move on the part of her not-a-boyfriend-but-what-the-heck-else-can-I-call-him? Inspiration did not strike, and she felt after a while that she was wasting her time; she didn’t know how to react because she didn’t know what he had intended by it in the first place. She considered the obvious idea of grabbing him and kissing him hard, but, as much fun as she was sure that would be, it just didn’t feel right. Something -- she didn’t know what, only that it seemed to come from somewhere deep inside her -- was telling her not to do that, or anything like it. Not yet. She sighed. Harry had said that the right time would come for that sort of thing if it was meant to be, and it seemed that she agreed with him, even if she didn’t know why. She grimaced, wishing that there was some way that she could know if it was going to happen, and when, and whether Harry wanted it to happen as much as she could no longer deny that she did, but there wasn’t, and so she’d just have to resign herself to waiting.... A twig snapped behind her, breaking her out of her reverie. Startled and annoyed at the disturbance, she whirled to see who or what was there, but then slumped against the tree as she saw that, far from disturbing her, the newcomer was there to share the peace of the morning; it was, of course, Harry, standing a few feet away, regarding her fondly with those unique eyes of his. “Morning, Gin,” he said softly and pleasantly, “Sorry if I startled you.” “That’s... that’s all right, Harry,” she said a little breathlessly. “I know you didn't mean to.” She fell silent for a moment and then, remembering, gasped, “Oh! Oh, Harry, thank you for the chocolates. I... I...” She trailed off, not quite knowing what to say. “You’re welcome, Ginny,” he replied easily, his eyes not leaving hers. “Will they do as a substitute for the Valentine’s Day assortment?” He was obviously teasing her, and she had no problem replying in kind. “Oh, I think they’ll do... if I can ever get a chance to open the box without my room-mates coming down like wolves on the fold to scoff the lot -- especially the ones with the Filling in them.” “You haven’t had any yet?” he said, obviously surprised. “No... I didn’t want to wake the others, so I put the box in my trunk, cast every locking spell I know on it, and came down here....” “Ah. Well, we can’t have that.” He smiled at her, one brow raised in amusement, and held out his hand to her. In it was a small box, the lid of which opened as she watched to reveal two chocolates -- which, she recognised from her earlier, very quick perusal of her St Agape’s Day gift, contained the Filling. “Do you feel like indulging yourself before breakfast?” he asked, one brow up in unashamed amusement. “I’ll force myself,” she said, trying to match his light tone, and mostly succeeding, she thought. His answering smile made the point moot, as she almost instantly forgot anything other than the joy of being with him. It took her a moment to remember that he was offering her a chocolate, but it came to her eventually, and she reached out, shaking her head slightly in an attempt to get her brain working properly once again, to take one of the sweets. She popped it into her mouth and bit into it... and promptly discovered that all the hype about the Filling was, in fact, gross understatement. “Oh, this is heavenly...” she half-moaned while doing her best not to swallow the whole thing in one large, ecstatic gulp. “How am I going to be able to resist all the others in that huge box you gave me?” Almost immediately, her stomach gave what was apparently its answer by rumbling loudly, and Harry laughed. “I think your stomach just answered you,” he quipped. “Obviously, the answer is to fill it, and then perhaps you won’t be quite so tempted.” He held out his hand again. “Breakfast?” “I don’t know about that...” Ginny said doubtfully. “About a full stomach being a cure for chocolate cravings, I mean.” “Well, let’s try it and see if it works. If it doesn’t, you can either make a pig of yourself, or use all your will-power to limit yourself to, say, a couple of them a day; that way, the box should last you a couple of weeks -- room-mates notwithstanding.” He flashed her a quick grin, and she laughed in response; the grin became a smile -- one of those smiles, the kind that made her knees go ever so slightly weak -- and it took her a moment to come back to reality from the daze that looking at him had put her into. When she did, she took his proffered hand and they began to stroll back to the castle -- and breakfast. As they made their slow, comfortable way back, Ginny didn’t notice Harry look up at the sky, nor did she catch his low mutter -- so low that even Remus Lupin would have had difficulty hearing him: “I know You always give us a choice, just as You know that I’m going to choose to do exactly what You want me to do, and why I have made that choice, but this is still bloody frustrating....” Whomever or Whatever he was addressing did not deign to reply, just as he knew It would not. Still, being able to complain helped -- not much, but enough to make the waiting slightly more bearable. ***** The Great Hall was fairly empty when they arrived, and Ginny took the opportunity to tell Harry of her assertion that celebrating St Theodosius’ Day was better for you than Valentines’ Day, which made him laugh, thereby putting the seal on a so-far wonderful morning as far as she was concerned. As they sat down, she noticed the only other students of their age who had made it to breakfast yet -- a certain Ravenclaw and Gryffindor of their acquaintance, sitting at the far end of the Ravenclaw table in companionable, and slightly dreamy, silence. Or, rather, they were sitting like that until an owl flew in to land in front of Neville. He untied a small cylindrical parcel from its leg and the owl immediately took wing again; as it flew out of the Hall, its erstwhile cargo began to grow in size until it was a rather thick roll of newspaper. Must be the Sunday Prophet, Ginny mused idly as she loaded her plate with a sizeable breakfast, even by Weasley standards. She took a couple of bites of her eggs and bacon and then paused with a third forkful halfway to her mouth as a thought occurred to her: Neville was not the only person in Gryffindor who had a subscription to the Prophet -- which meant.... She looked around and, sure enough, there was another owl that had landed on the House table carrying the same sort of parcel; however, no-one was relieving it of its burden, and the bird was becoming impatient and somewhat annoyed -- though not enough to stop it from helping itself to some bacon. She waited for a few moments, absently continuing to eat, but nobody went near the owl, or even so much as acknowledged its existence, and so she got up and went to take the paper, which she was fairly sure must be Hermione’s copy, from its leg. Although the Prophet’s owls were not supposed to deliver the copies of the paper they carried to anyone other than the appropriate subscribers, the ones that regularly came to Hogwarts usually weren’t that finicky, especially if the intended recipient wasn’t in the Great Hall when they arrived; in that case, the birds would generally land on the right table and expect someone to remove their load as soon as possible, trusting that it would, sooner or later, get to where it ought to go -- and it has to be said that this “system” (actually, more a product of the owls’ indifference to what they carried and where it was supposed to go, just so long as someone took it from them) worked well enough for there not to be many complaints, thereby perpetuating itself in true Darwinian fashion. Unfortunately, as Ginny discovered when she tried to remove the paper from its leg, this particular owl was either new to the Hogwarts run or was a Percy-like stickler for the rules; it had no intention of letting anyone untie the parcel other than the person to whom it was addressed, and an unpleasant glare coupled with one or two belligerent hoots clearly conveyed the message to Ginny that, unless she went and got the right person, she should consider herself to be both irrelevant and unwelcome. She certainly wasn’t getting her hands on its delivery. ...until, that is, its behaviour suddenly changed, all the aggression vanishing in an instant, and it docilely held out its leg to Ginny. She untied the paper and laid it on the table so that it could grow to its full size, noting in passing that it was indeed addressed to Hermione, but kept her eyes on the owl, surprised and slightly concerned at its abrupt change of manner. Her eyes widened as the formerly stroppy bird spread its wings and flew silently past her and down the table to land carefully on Harry’s outstretched arm. For just a few seconds, young man and bird stared intently at one another, seemingly communing in a way that Ginny knew she could not understand, but could at least recognise, and then Harry gave the owl a sausage from the nearby warming pan; it took it and spent one last moment regarding the boy with the messy hair and green eyes with something akin to awe in its own gaze before taking to the air again and heading out of the Hall, presumably to devour its snack in private. She spent a few moments looking at him herself, wondering, not for the first time, just why certain creatures were suddenly so fond of Harry -- and why others were so frightened of him. She might have gone on to ponder the similarities and differences between those in the first group and those in the second, but her attention was caught by the sight of the main headline on the front page of the Prophet: ---- VALENTINE’S DAY ATTACK ON HOGSMEADE Mysterious Stranger Saves Villagers and Students, Destroys Dementors Exclusive Eyewitness Account from the Boy-Who-Lived by Rita Skeeter ---- When she saw the by-line, she grimaced and shot a quick glance at Harry, who was peacefully eating now that the owl had left, and then returned her gaze to the paper, frowning as she quickly read the article under the headline. How much did he know about this so-called “exclusive account,” she wondered; from what her friends had said in the past, she wouldn’t put it past Skeeter to have made the whole thing up, the only genuine fact in the entire story being that Harry had actually been in Hogsmeade the previous day. The frown lessened somewhat as she read on, but her perplexity grew. From what little she knew of the events of yesterday, the article seemed to be a straightforward, accurate account of what had happened. The “quotes” from Harry were not the inflammatory rubbish that she might have expected; in fact, they even sounded a lot like things that he might say... but they weren’t quite right. There was something about the words that was just the tiniest bit off, even though she could imagine him saying them.... That was it! Yes, the things Skeeter had him saying read like genuine quotes from Harry, but they weren’t something he’d say, they were things he’d write! But when -- and why -- would Harry write to Rita Skeeter, of all people? She looked up at him again, and he seemed to notice, for he met her puzzled gaze with a raised brow that invited enquiry; trouble was, she couldn’t think how to ask him what she wanted to know -- if, indeed, she was sure what that was. But then, as seemed to happen so often lately -- and she wished she knew why -- he did something that eventually gave her some, though not all, of the answers that she wanted, including the ones that she didn’t know to ask. In this case, he noticed the paper and the headline. “Rita met her deadline, then -- good. What does she have to say, Gin?” A bemused Ginny silently moved the paper over so that he could see it, too, and concentrated on her breakfast while he read the article surprisingly rapidly. Very shortly thereafter, she heard what could have been called a satisfied grunt, a type of noise she recognised from many a breakfast with her youngest brother, though this one was different to the usual Ron grunt -- it was more than half a sort of “hmm...” noise, and the satisfaction it expressed was less visceral and... sort of thoughtful? That was a lot to infer from a small sound like that, but it conveyed the somewhat complex emotions that Harry had somehow managed to pack into it -- or so Ginny couldn’t help thinking. “Nice work, Rita,” Harry said softly before lifting his head to remark to Ginny in an off-handed manner, “I told her she was a good reporter when she took the time to do her job properly; good to see her proving me right.” That seemed to answer Ginny’s unspoken question -- yes, he had spoken, or written, or communicated somehow with Rita Skeeter -- but it still didn’t explain why. So.... “Harry...” she said hesitantly, “Did... did you write some of this? You know, the quotes in it? Why...?” “Well spotted, Gin,” he replied, amused and completely unconcerned. “Yeah, those quotes from me are mostly from a letter I sent Rita yesterday after I talked to her in Hogsmeade just before we were all escorted back to the school.” “But why? I mean, you hate publicity; why would you...?” “Why would I give an ‘exclusive account’ -- a serious scoop in terms of news -- to Rita, of all people?” Ginny nodded, but said nothing. “Well, it was a sort of spur-of-the-moment decision to keep her off Neville’s back -- and Luna’s, and all the others who were with them during the attack, but mostly Neville. Besides, Rita has her uses, especially when she does her job properly, and I may just have need of a reporter in the not-too-distant-future, so this was a chance to get her on-side -- call it an incentive.” “Oh,” Ginny said quietly, thinking furiously. That made sense, and it was very Harry-like to deal with Rita himself so that his friends wouldn’t have to -- but why would he need a reporter? She shook her head slightly; as with so many things about Harry Potter this year, an answer to a question about him only led to half-a-dozen other questions at the very least. “Don’t worry about it, Ginny,” he said softly. “You’ll see why when the time comes. Are you finished? ’Cause if you are, let’s get out of here; we have some planning to do for a couple of forthcoming events. And now that the post has come, I’d really like to avoid Malfoy if I can; you know how he’s always going on about how I’m supposed to love being in the papers -- the party line of Snape and the Ministry (and isn’t that a combination to chill the blood?) -- and for once I’ve deliberately given him some ammunition. I’d just as soon not have to hex him into ferret pâté -- not today, anyway -- so shall we go?” Ginny looked down at her plate to discover, to her surprise, that she had, indeed, finished. She looked at the empty plate for a moment, wondering how she’d managed to eat so much without realising it, but eventually decided that it didn’t matter and stood up to leave as Harry had asked. He collected the various bits of the newspaper and joined her with it tucked under one arm, and they strolled out of the Great Hall together, oblivious to the eyes of assorted Prophet-readers that followed them, including those of two grateful friends at the Ravenclaw table. What Ginny was not in any way oblivious to was Harry taking her hand in his free one as they made their way through the deserted corridors of the castle, only releasing it when they approached the portrait hole and the Fat Lady. ***** After passing the paper to Hermione, who was currently well into her Charms essay and barely looked up to acknowledge its presence -- or theirs -- Harry and Ginny settled down on a sofa well away from the few people in the common room and began to talk softly, their heads coming together in a way that might have been unconscious, or might not. Regardless, they were soon engrossed in an animated conversation, but one that no-one else could hear other than as a faint murmur in the background. Nor was it coincidence that the sofa they had chosen was one that was both distant from and directly facing the stairs leading to the boys’ dormitories; when, eventually, Ron made his barely-awake way down the stairs to greet his girlfriend -- who immediately packed up her homework, somewhat to his surprise -- he did not notice his best mate and sister over on the far side of the common room, but they noticed him. Their conversation ceased, or became an everyday, lazy-Sunday-morning sort of chat, until after Ron and Hermione had left to see if there was anything left for breakfast, whereupon it resumed its former animation and intensity. When, some time later, their friends had not returned, the coast was felt to be clear enough for the discussion to be widened, and so Ginny headed up the girls’ stairs while Harry went up the boys, both to look for certain House members. They were in luck and everyone was in their dorms, so it wasn’t long before a group of familiar faces -- the Gryffindor Quidditch team, with the sole exception of their captain -- was gathered around the same sofa, listening as Harry outlined his plan. Their reactions were much as expected -- disbelief, awe at the audacity of what was proposed, amazement that their Seeker would do this to his friend, worry about the possible consequences if they went along with it, some emphatic discussion, highlighted by much waving of hands, and finally calm acceptance of the idea -- well, calm mixed with a certain wicked glee to be seen in the eyes and expressions of the team members, and especially in a pair of green orbs partly hidden by a pair of glasses. Of course, all those feelings and expressions faded, or were hidden, quickly -- almost instantaneously -- when Ron and Hermione returned shortly thereafter. Seeing the gathering, the couple strolled over to their friends and joined the conversation -- well, Ron did, since it was about Quidditch and the upcoming game against Ravenclaw; Hermione sat calmly and listened, except for one moment when she met Harry’s gaze behind the back of her gesticulating boyfriend and, after he gave her a quick thumbs-up, they shared a knowing grin. Around them, Ginny and the others, almost all of whom had caught the exchange between the Head Boy and Girl, smiled to themselves, or did their best to remain impassive if Ron was looking their way. ***** After lunch, which Harry left early, saying that he had a couple of things to do, Hermione convinced Ron that it would be a good idea to spend some time working on their Charms essay so that the evening would be free for other activities, and Ginny had some homework of her own to finish, so the three made their way back to the common room to settle down to a few hours of solid work. Harry’s absence was remarked on but, as no-one knew where he was, there wasn’t much that they could do about it, and Hermione managed to distract Ron when he showed signs of wanting to go look for his friend. Ginny, equally surprised and concerned, would have liked to join the search, but she knew that Harry’s disappearance was most likely deliberate on his part and had something to do with what they had discussed that morning, and so held her peace. She was proven right when, just after five o’clock, he returned, looking slightly tired, to greet the others as if he’d just stepped out for five minutes instead of as nearly as many hours. Of course, what really annoyed everyone (except Hermione) was that he refused to say anything about where he’d been or what he’d been doing; what made Hermione fume was that when she tried to scold him about not having done his essay, he blithely replied that he’d already finished it! Eventually, his general calm and the way in which he just brushed off even the most persistent questioners with uninformative answers made them all give up. He was back and did not appear to have been in any danger or trouble while he’d been gone, so they let matters be. Besides, if they knew Harry, and they thought they did, they’d find out eventually. Little did they -- or one of them, at least -- know.... ***** [A/N: Not the most action-packed chapter, this one, but necessary for later developments, as you -- and Harry’s friends -- will see in the next chapter or two.]
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