|
||||||||
|
||||||||
Author: parakletos Story: Twelve Months Rating: Teens Setting: Pre-OotP Status: WIP Reviews: 32 Words: 206,778
A/N: Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. After such a long break I was very touched by your kind words.
Perhaps if he had come to see her in St Mungo's – or rather, that he'd actually come to see her rather than sit on her bed in silence – then she might feel differently about it. She knew she'd messed up and had damn near killed herself trying to deal with the guilt she'd felt. And when she'd tried to apologise, he'd walked away and left her to sink or swim on her own. And worse than that, she had had to put up with more than two weeks' worth of everyone's questions as to why he didn't come and see her. Fancy that, thought Ginny, my shit of a boyfriend – the ever popular Boy-Who-Lived – leaves me girlfriend at death's door after I'd sodding well nearly killed myself trying to make it up to him. She pulled open the box of chocolates he'd bought for her and stuffed one of them into her mouth. As she chomped down on it in anger, the rich dark chocolate burst open and the smooth syrupy centre oozed over her tongue making her shiver. She felt the soft touch of someone's lips upon her neck and she twisted round to see who was there. No one was. She sat for a moment, trying to recover her composure. She knew that Harry had been trying to find her yesterday and if they had met up earlier, perhaps her mood would have been less combative. It had certainly been so when she'd got up that morning. She shivered again and then let out a cry as she felt the invisible lips gently kiss her left breast. She stood and pulled her wand, peering into the corners of the candle-lit room. "Show yourself, who ever you are," she demanded, but the room was empty, save her. She pulled up the front of her T-shirt but again there was nothing and no one to be seen. She sat down slowly, her eyes darting to left and right, spooked by the slightest noise. Satisfied, at least for the moment, that she was, in fact, alone, she returned to her musing. Her eyes settled on the flowers he had bought her and picking them up she sighed. They really were beautiful, and he must have spent ages choosing them. She placed them back on her dressing table and tried to make sense of things. She really didn't start out the day looking to berate him. Merlin, she hadn't even known herself that she actually felt this angry. Given that she'd spent most of her time struggling through her days with less enthusiasm than a Squib faced with OWL revision, she was hard put to place where all this anger had come from. Of course, she knew that she had plenty to be angry about. It was just that, until today, she'd not got that worked up about it. But that could be something to do with the fact that how she was feeling was a complete mystery to the man who had claimed he knew her well enough to marry her. This time the lips caught her totally by surprise and she let out a groan as they busied themselves at the top of her thighs. Whereas before, she had been pleased when they had finished, this time, a twinge of disappointment marked their departure. It had been a long time since she'd felt remotely interested in anything sexual. Looking at a bag of bones in the mirror tended to do that to someone. But more than that, her body had been so focussed on keeping only the essentials running that she doubted that it could have spared energy for it even if she'd asked it. Perhaps the anger she was feeling and the desire she'd felt signalled a new phase of her healing? She waited for a few minutes to see if the lips had indeed finished their work before returning to the vexed question of her boyfriend. Did he really think that flowers and chocolates were a good enough apology? Did he even think he owed her an apology? Or did he feel that she was in the wrong and she needed to apologise again? Perhaps if she'd woken up in his bed, even if he'd slept on the sofa instead of her, things might have been different. After all, that would have told her what position she occupied in his life and where he thought she belonged. But instead, he'd left her on the sofa like a drunken friend who was too pissed to Apparate home. Feeling the need to keep the flow of chocolate into her body, she grabbed another one from the box and stuffed it into her mouth. It had been a while since she'd felt the need for chocolate and she wondered if that, along with other changes she'd noticed, meant that her hormones were finally getting back into the swing of things. Gormless boyfriends and periods… Merlin, sometimes she hated being a witch. ~*~ Harry scribbled a hasty note to the team, informing them that he would not be in training today. He had decided that he couldn't afford to wait for someone to arrive at the stadium who could give him permission to skive off, let alone deal with the inevitable questions that such a request would generate. He didn't give a reason for his absence as he was determined that as few people as possible knew what was going on. He contemplated writing to Joscelind herself but decided he would rather explain face to face, even if it was after the fact. He didn't know what the team's response would be but, to be frank, he didn't actually care. All that mattered was getting to speak with Ginny as soon as possible and he would deal with the consequences later. He watched Hedwig as she flew out of the kitchen window and headed northwards over the still sleeping city. A few lights were on as cleaners went about their work and he knew Amir's newsagent would be open, but it would be a while before the commuters and shoppers brought the City of Westminster to life. A solitary Routemaster made its way up Oxford Street, waiting at every stop for passengers that wouldn't appear for at least an hour. Sometimes he longed for the simplicity that being a bus driver would bring. Common sense told him that he shouldn't act on impulse and that the situation probably warranted another discussion with Penny. But hadn't it been Penny that had told him, albeit in a politer fashion, to get off his wizarding arse and do something? He hoped that his rushing out the door wasn't going to be something he'd live to regret, like his ill-fated trip to the Ministry. As he focussed on his destination, he offered a silent prayer that Ginny would be at her parents' and there would be no more wild goose chases. ~*~ "Ginny?" Her mother's voice was quiet as she spoke from the other side of the bedroom door. "There's someone to see you." Before Ginny could decided whether she wanted to admit Harry – for she had no doubt that it was he – the door opened slowly to reveal her confused-looking mother in her dressing gown and slippers and the expected and anxious looking man of the moment. They stood in awkward silence, no one speaking. Her mother, because obviously didn't have a clue as to why Harry had felt the need to call this early; Harry, because he probably deemed the matter private and therefore none of her mother's business, and Ginny, because the effect of the second chocolate, whilst not as overt as the first, still made it difficult to think. Her mother may have been bleary-eyed and yawning, but she was awake enough to give Harry a gentle but very firm shove and close the door behind him. Ginny stared as he turned and looked at the now-closed door as if expecting her mum to lock it, but when nothing happened, he turned back to her. "You found the flowers then?" he said eventually. She waited for the affects of the chocolate to wear off and her body to return to normal before speaking. When it did so, her mind took up where it had left off; why she was angry with him. "And the chocolates." Yes, the chocolates. For bringing her those, he deserved a response. "I would have thought that much was obvious, even to you." From the puzzled look on his face, she knew that she had been right. He had no idea why she was so angry with him. And she also knew that getting angry at him for not knowing was pointless. Yes, he knew that he'd done something wrong, but he didn't know what, and no amount of berating him would ever change that. That didn't stop her being angry at him, though. She glanced at her bedside clock and saw that it wasn't even six o'clock yet. The bugger could have least have given me more time to stew and get through the top layer of the box before coming over and making me be reasonable. Perhaps I should have stayed at his place and we could have argued there without Mum getting involved. I bet at the first hint of raised voices she's up here with cups of tea and the offer of breakfast. She lifted the lid off the box and took another chocolate from it. She noted the hopeful look in his eye as she did so and laughed inwardly. I'm sorry, Harry, she thought, don't get your hopes up. When a woman accepts chocolate from you, all she is saying is, 'I need chocolate'! She let out a groan of pleasure as she bit into the centre of the sweet. The high cocoa content was one thing, but these magical centres were almost too much to bear. If Harry had been of a more calculating mind, she might have believed that he had given them to her deliberately to weaken her resolve. But from the confused look on his face, she knew he was mystified by the effect that they were having on her. As the warm liquid that had been hidden in the chocolate's centre slipped down her throat, she felt its affects begin to increase. The first thing she noticed was that everything in the room came into sharper focus. The fine hairs on her arm seemed a veritable forest and her freckles more like a blizzard than a light dusting. She looked up and she could see the dark stubble on his chin as clearly as if she was standing close enough to kiss him. She had to stop herself from reaching out and letting her hand brush against his unshaven face. Then she became aware of her own perfume. Not the flowery scent that came from the bottle on her dresser, but that which her own body produced and society dictated she mask by soap and other toiletries. It wasn't an unpleasant smell, despite the fact that she hadn't showered yet, but she knew instinctively that it wasn't meant to appeal to her, but to the other person in the room. Then she was hit by Harry's own perfume. She struggled to separate the conflicting signals his scent contained. Her senses may have been able to pick out the different strands, but her brain still struggled to identify them. He was angry and frustrated, that much she could tell from his expression, his posture, but his scent told her he was fearful, too. But underlying it all was his masculinity and his desire for her. Not a desire to bed her there and then, although that was there too, but an almost bestial desire to claim her, to mark her as his. By way of explanation, her mind produced a picture of a stag in the rutting season fighting off all pretenders to protect the doe he so dearly wanted. In response, she felt her own scent change. She knew that it was telling him that she was his, and that, despite her mental protestations to the contrary, he could take her whenever he wanted. Her humanity reasserted itself and she allowed her anger and frustration at him to regain control of her emotions, a job made harder by the very basic responses her body was now displaying. Her skin flushed red and she prayed that he took it for anger and not desire. In the same way, as she pressed her thighs together again, she hoped he would see the movement as a by-product of her nervousness. And then the next phase of the potion hit her and she reeled as her awareness of his magic increased. Despite the desire building in her body, she took a step back from him as the strength of his magic threatened to overwhelm her. ~*~ Harry was confused. The indifferent reception he'd received from Ginny told him what he'd expected: that things weren't going to be easy. But he was determined to resolve matters once and for all and, having decided that he wanted Ginny back in his life, he was determined to make that happen. But since their initial exchange, she had begun to behave very strangely. The first indication of her odd behaviour was when she began peering around the room as if seeing it for the first time. It culminated in her staring at him with such scrutiny that he'd felt uncomfortable. Then, she'd begun to sniff the air in a manner reminiscent of Crookshanks when he was trying to locate a mouse. This had led to the curious spectacle of her leaning forward and taking in a long, deep breath, after which she'd blushed profusely in a manner reminiscent of the sexual flush that swept over her pale skin when they'd made love. And then an expression of awe had covered her face. She'd stepped away from him, lowering her head in an act of what he could only call submission. He took a pace towards her but she maintained her distance by stepping back. He moved again and again she stepped back. Frustrated, he looked away and his eyes spotted the open box of chocolates. Inside the lid, there was the customary picture showing the layout of the contents and the heading: Enjoy a magically enhanced evening of romance and pleasure with Lindt. Warning: these chocolates are for use only by consenting adults in the privacy of their own homes. Bugger! What had that woman bought? What was she thinking of? Probably that you were a sexually active young couple who wanted to spend Valentine's night finding out how good wizarding sex could be. He glanced at Ginny and noticed that her head was no longer bowed, and that her face, rather than looking submissive, was now a vista of passion. A grin formed on her flushed features as he studied her making him feel uncomfortable. This feeling increased as she bared her now-swollen lips, revealing teeth he could have sworn were sharper than normal. Looking back at the box, Harry noticed that she had only eaten three of the chocolates all of which were from the top row. He pulled out the top tray out and set it to one side. To his relief, the pattern was exactly the same in the bottom tray. He grabbed what he hoped were the same three chocolates, shoved them into his mouth, and chewed on them frantically, swallowing the centres as quickly as he could. He staggered as the potions the chocolates contained made their presence felt. Sudden understanding flooded his whole being. He struggled to stand as he was kissed by invisible lips in places where only Ginny's had ever been. It was all he could do remain upright, clear thought was certainly out of the question. As he battled for control his senses were bombarded by sights, sounds and smells that previously had only been hinted at. Ginny's pupils had dilated and the hair on her forearm was raised. Her breathing was heavy and her scent was both alluring and challenging. When he finally looked up, there was a feral grin on Ginny's face and she took a step towards him. His now preternatural senses told him what her intention was and he readied himself for it. Struggling to maintain the ascendancy over the base instincts that threatened to take over, he locked her door with a quick movement of his hand. He also tried to cast a silencing spell, but before he could do so, she fell upon him, screaming at the top of her voice, his yowl of pain matching her volume as her nails raked his face. ~*~ She'd watched with interest as he'd eaten the three chocolates, but it hadn't changed what she was going to do. Her mind was now operating on a basic level, her human logic banished to its rear, where it stood aghast at what she intended to do. She knew he was stronger, physically and magically, but if he wanted to claim her, then he was going to have to fight for that right. And in the meantime she had a few scores to settle. As she launched herself at him, she focussed on his face and making sure that her nails made contact with it. Deep down, the satisfaction she felt at his cry of pain disturbed her, but in the now-dominant part of her brain, she felt a rush of pleasure as he fell to the ground clutching his face, seemingly defenceless against her onslaught. As she landed on top of him, the potion completed its work and it was not her nails that now raked his body but claws extending from white paws. Part of her mind was shouting at her to stop, that he wouldn't transform for a few moments and that she must cease. Such a course of action meant nothing to her now feline way of thinking, however, and she continued with her attack, covering his forearms with scratches. And then he, too, transformed. She barely saw the strong, dark-coloured paw that made contact with the side of her head and she fell backwards, her senses ringing. ~*~ He was angry, very angry. In the back of his mind, something told him why in terms his feline brain could not explain. He hissed at her, baring his teeth as he did so. She had dared to attack him. She had challenged him. She lay on her back, supine as she should be, her neck exposed. He ignored her submission. His tail switched back and forth as he sat on his haunches, as he loomed over her. She let out a soft, plaintive mew as he swiped a paw at her. He hissed again as her tail flicked back and forth. She was his but would not submit. He pounced. His jaw closed on her neck. She shot up and tore across the room. She was on the table. He followed. No! She was gone. Across the bed. On the floor. He was there, she wasn't. On the table again, scattering roses and chocolates as she did so. He pounced, she rolled. He caught her but she scratched her way free. Outside, there was banging and shouting as the humans tried to enter. Their voices stirred only distant recognition, so he ignored them. They paused as she lay on the floor. Her tail still swished, her challenge unconquered. He sniffed the air and subtle changes in her scent spoke to him. The fight had changed the challenge too. Then the door burst open. She sprang to her feet and fled. Avoiding the humans, he followed. Down the stairs and out the door he ran her scent calling him on. It was nearly two hours before the potion's effects faded and for the last five minutes, the now-human Ginny had sat beneath the oak tree where they had first come together. A pale yellow sun was doing its best to warm the brisk February day and she wished that she could have kept the calico coat that Harry had been so lovingly grooming only a few minutes ago. On her lap, a very contented, black-haired, green-eyed tom lay purring like a tractor as she stroked and petted it. "Actually," she said to Harry, as he enjoyed her scratching between his ears, "we were more likely Kneazles, weren't we? I don't know what you did to that smelly old tom who turned up, but he didn't like seeing his fur turn blue, did he?" His only response was to purr even louder, causing Ginny to laugh. Even though he was purring, she wasn't sure that he would have appreciated her claws on his face at the start, but then, she wasn't partial to being hit by him, either. Part of her was still appalled at their behaviour, but, she kept telling herself, if you accepted the parameters within which their minds had been working, it was reasonable enough. And to top it all, they had had fun. Freed from the pressures that had dragged their relationship to the brink, they had chased each other through the garden and orchard doing what they hadn't done in a long time: having fun. Ginny's knowledge of the area had compensated for Harry's obvious advantage in terms of speed and she'd only been caught when she had wanted to be. She wasn't sure what she now thought of the bird that he'd caught for her, even less of her willingness to eat it, but she knew that her feline self had accepted his gift and eaten it with alacrity. Despite its obvious benefits – her anger was gone and any awkwardness they might have felt at their first meeting was long past – it wasn't an experience that she was particularly keen to repeat. Like their non-magical cousins, male Kneazles were designed to induce ovulation and not pleasure in their females. The good thing was that whatever pain she had still been feeling had disappeared when she had transformed. Her musings were interrupted as the weight on her lap suddenly increased and, instead of scratching between the ears of a large black Kneazle, her hands were running through Harry's thick raven locks. "I think I preferred it when you were smaller and purring," she said with a laugh. Her laughter faded when she saw that his face was still scarred from her first attack, but he seemed either not to have noticed or, hopefully, be bothered by it. "I think I did too. But then, if I were still a Kneazle, I wouldn't be able to do this." He pulled her down on top of him and kissed her. It wasn't the hard, passionate kissing that was the prelude to sex, but one that conveyed all the tenderness and all the love that she had so desperately missed whilst they had been apart. It said sorry for walking out on her and then not visiting her in hospital. It reassured her that she was the centre of his world, and told her that he knew that life without her was a shadow of what it could be and what it was meant to be. As the kiss ended, he conjured a thick blanket for them to lie on and a cloak warm enough and big enough for both of them. They lay content in each other's arms, a position they stayed in for a few hours as they talked and joked, laughed and cried. Eventually they returned to The Burrow to face the inevitable barrage of questions that their antics would have generated. ~*~ "I don't know what you were doing, Harry, giving Ginny chocolates like these in her condition. Didn't you read the box before you bought them?" Ginny threw Harry a quick glance. His only response was to look sheepish. She knew he wasn't going to admit that he hadn't even been the one to go out and buy them; it had taken a lot of persuading by her to force that admission from him. And she knew he certainly wasn't going to admit not knowing what sort of chocolates they were. "These," Molly shouted, waving the now-empty box in front of them, "aren't meant to enhance a normal couple's time together. They're used at the sort of parties that sophisticated wizards and witches go to, where everyone puts their wand on the table and everyone takes their pick." Ginny wanted to know how her mother knew about those sorts of parties, and had she secreted the remaining chocolates elsewhere, like in her own chest of drawers? Despite the parental onslaught going on in front of her, she tittered, causing her mother's indignation to rise several more notches. "I'm sure those witches' magazines you read, Ginny, are full of tips on how to enhance your love-life with magic, but take it from me, my girl, the Magical Reversal Squad could tell you some pretty nasty tales about some of the bedroom scenes they've been called to." And so it continued. Sitting there, being scolded like school children, both of them struggling to stifle their laughter, took Ginny back to their time at Hogwarts. Back then, it was the two of them against the world. They were so close, you couldn't even slip a fag paper between them. Since then, the world had been a more complicated, if safer, place and they'd allowed too much to come between them. They still had more to talk about, but that would come later. Now she turned her attention, not to her mother, but the boy next to her who was fumbling for her hand under the table. ~*~ During the next few days, Ginny remained at The Burrow, but Harry was a frequent visitor, often returning straight from practice to shower and change there rather than at his own flat. Any disapproval by Mr and Mrs Weasley at their antics had faded along with the scratches on Harry's face and his visits were without incident. Much to their relief, the team had not disciplined Harry for missing training. There were fresh murmurings coming from the Ministry about him and he didn't need anything that would draw attention to him. When he had returned to the club, his conversation with Joscelind went far smoother than he could have hoped. "From the change in your demeanour, Harry, I would say you made the right choice. But," she'd added, "please don't make a habit of it. Whatever the time of day or night, send me an owl I trust you enough to know that you won't abuse the privilege." A few days later, in his next match, he rewarded her trust by catching the Snitch so early in the game that only one goal had been scored before he did so. If he'd been three seconds quicker, it would have been the first Golden Catch (where a team won by only the catching of the Snitch) in fifty years. The two of them spent their afternoons buttoned up against the cold, as they explored the Devon countryside. Ginny took him on a guided tour of her childhood haunts, enjoying many of the places she and her brothers had escaped to, despite her mother's instructions to remain close to home. "I'm sure she knew where we were all the time; after all, parental Tracking Charms are fairly common. Mum's not stupid; she knew that the best conker tree was miles away, and yet she never said a word when we came back with armfuls of the things." Sometimes they talked about nothing in particular and other times they tackled the problems of the wizarding world. More often than not, the end of the day found them sitting under their oak tree, laughing at the awkward beginning to their relationship. Here, where they felt secure, and warmed by shared body heat and Molly's finest – and unadulterated- hot chocolate, they found themselves talking about the things that had brought them to the brink of splitting up. A lot of issues Ginny raised were beyond Harry's control, such as not being treated the same way as a wife by Puddlemere and the league and the general sexism she encountered. Others, she admitted – not quite jokingly enough for Harry's liking – were because he was a man and that meant that, in many ways, he was beyond redemption and she's have to put up with it. Others were more serious. Then one day, she raised the very point that Penny had identified as the biggest problem. "It's very hard being your girlfriend, Harry," she said suddenly, in the middle of a discussion of the finer points of conkering. Harry had to admit, as they sat together drinking hot chocolate on a crisp spring day, that the difficulties weren't immediately obvious. Not to him, anyway. And perhaps that was part of the problem: what was self-evident to others was hidden from him. And where they saw someone great, he was still dogged by the lack of self-worth born of his uncle's abuse. "Sometimes I feel that, whereas everyone is rooting for you, hundreds of witches are plotting to take my place. And sometimes I feel that you just don't understand that." "You're right, Ginny, I don't understand it. But I also know that I can't change the fact that there will always be witches who are jealous of you. Even if we were married with kids, they'd still fancy their chances." He saw the look of disappointment in her eye when he used the word 'if' rather than 'when'. Although they had often joked about her becoming Mrs Potter, they had never had a serious discussion about when would be the right time for Harry to propose again. Of course, when she had turned him down before, she had told him to wait twelve months, but he had never known how serious she had been. He thought that he now understood what she had been trying to tell him on that fateful August day, and if that were the case, why should he wait? Even if a wedding ring wouldn't deter some, there could be no better way of showing Ginny that she was the only witch for him other than their being bonded by marriage. The mention of marriage and children brought another series of questions that he was surprised she hadn't asked before. "When Penny told you that she and Mum thought I was pregnant, what did you think?" He remembered very vividly his reaction and, for a moment, he contemplated sugar-coating his response. In the end, he decided that anything but the truth would be pointless. He took her hand in his and fixed his eyes on hers. "I must admit that I was shocked. We had been taking precautions, but nothing is a hundred-percent safe, is it?" "No, it isn't." He could sense the frustration in her voice but also a reluctance to ask the question she really wanted him to answer. Eventually, it came. "But what did you actually think? I mean, would you have stayed with me?" Her head turned away from his, but he took hold of her chin and gently turned it back to face him. "Of course I would've, Ginny. Whatever gave you the impression that I would have left?" She turned away again and withdrew her hand from his. "I don't know. I didn't want you to feel trapped. I mean, I wouldn't be the first witch to get the wizard she wanted by getting pregnant, would I?" "No, I daresay you wouldn't have been." He wanted to add that he'd never thought she'd done that anyway, but she pressed on. "When I was in hospital, part of me wished that I actually was pregnant; that way, I would have still had a bit of you." Because you'd left me. He wanted to respond to the unspoken barb but decided against it. There would be nothing to be gained by it and, besides, it wasn't the object of Ginny's questioning. He watched her as she fumbled with her now-empty mug and waited until she was ready to face him again. "And part of me wishes that you were, Ginny. Once I'd got over the shock, I found myself looking forward to fatherhood. I was disappointed when they told me that there was no baby." She put her mug down and snuggled up to him, her questions finished for the day, and he was left wondering if she truly understood what he'd just told her. ~*~ That night, for the first time since she'd left hospital, Ginny decided to join Harry when he left The Burrow. Once they had arrived, she found herself pulled into a fierce embrace. "Welcome home," he whispered in her ear before the embrace turned into a kiss. Unlike her last visit, Ginny knew what she was feeling and why she was here and she acquiesced when he led her to the sofa. "Thank you for spending so much time at The Burrow," she said as they sat down. "It really helped, you know?" He nodded but she continued. "It was easier to deal with everything whilst I was on my own territory, if you follow me?" "Ginny there is no need…" His voice faded as she glared at him. "Harry, this is important to me. You coming to The Burrow, it gave me the chance to say 'no' to you, if I'd wanted to. I love this flat, but it's yours, whereas The Burrow is mine." She let out a groan of frustration. "Merlin, I'm making a right pig's ear of this." "No, you're not. You're making perfect sense to me." "Really? You're not just saying that?" "Really. It was like the courtship we never had. My coming to see you at your parents', us going for walks. We did all the stuff couples normally get to do when they haven't got Dark wizards to fight." "You make it sound as if we are married. Isn't that what happens at the end of a courtship?" Ginny tried to make her voice sound as neutral as possible, but she knew she'd failed. She watched as his face betrayed signs of the struggle going on inside him. "That was unfair of me, Harry. I'm sorry." Neither of them spoke for a while and Ginny berated herself for raising the subject in the first place. It had been the one thing that they had not talked about during their walks. "Do you want to get married, Ginny?" His question took her by surprise but before she could answer, he continued. "I'd planned to do that, you know, ask you. On Valentine's Day, but that was before…" He lapsed into silence. Despite their long conversations, making reference to their time apart was still felt awkward for both of them. "Before our lost fortnight?" "Yeah, before that." There was another period of silence before she answered him. "I do want to get married, Harry." Part of her wanted to push him so that he would ask her now, but she knew that they still had some things to work through before she would be prepared to say 'yes' to him. "But…?" She tried to meet his gaze, but the intensity of it scared her, and so she looked away. Was this a "now or never" moment? If she said "no" or "wait" or anything like that to him, would that be it? Would he have had enough of her and the fact that she was, by her own admission, hard work? "It's okay, Ginny, you said I had to wait twelve months and so I will." She looked up and saw that the intensity of his gaze hadn't lessened but she could hear the disappointment in his voice. "Come," he said, taking her hand in his and standing. She rose and he led her into his bedroom. She paused on the threshold, and her hand let go of his. "Are you sure?" she asked, still affected by the awkwardness of their conversation. "I'm sure." He took hold of her hand again, but she shook it off. Ignoring his look of concern, she undid the buttons on the front of the dress she was wearing and let it puddle at her feet. She reached behind her back and in a few moments her bra lay similarly discarded. "Then so am I." ~*~ A/N: Despite being written very quickly, this chapter has had a significant time in the beta process. My thanks go to Margaret, Rachael, Ros, Ruby and, of course, Sherry for their help in knocking this into shape. I first came across "Parental Tracking Charms" in Sovran's fics. You can read his "The Meaning of One" series here.
|