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Author: Imogen Story: Alpha and Omega Rating: Young Teens Setting: Pre-OotP Status: Completed Reviews: 4 Words: 99,172
Chapter 5: To Weather the Storm "Turn, Fortune, turn thy wheel and lower the proud; Turn thy wild wheel thro' sunshine, storm and cloud." Alfred, Lord Tennyson: "Enid's Song" "Ginny?" he yelled into the darkness of the night. "Ginny?" His cry was smothered, obscured by a low rumble of thunder, creeping ever closer to the Burrow. Even before his eyes had become accustomed to the darkness around him, he was pelting across the garden at full speed, rain spattering against his face and waking him to the chilling reality of the situation. He ducked quickly to avoid a low branch of the beech tree that suddenly loomed into view and turned sharply to the right, stumbling over a patch of uneven ground to reach the fence. Clambering over into the meadow, he clutched the sweater in his hand more tightly. Ginny would need it when he found her, the light summer frock she was wearing would be little protection against rain like this. He shook off the droplets that were congregating on his own nose and tore his way through the tangling grasses in the meadow. He could barely believe that it was only yesterday that he had come this way with her, hand in hand and laughing uproariously about being thrown in the river. This bombshell tonight had changed everything. It had shattered their world. A fluttering of light coloured cotton appeared in the moonlight, not too far ahead, near the blackened silhouette of the gnarled oak tree on the ridge. "Ginny!" he shouted with every bit of breath he had left. He was gaining on her. Heart hammering against his ribs and lungs aching with effort, he raced on, desperate to catch her. She paused and turned, and he could just make out the paleness her face through the driving rain. "Leave me alone!" she screamed at him, sounding almost on the verge of tears. She swung round again and ran on. Harry reached forwards, and his skill as one of the best Seekers Hogwarts had ever known came into play, as he securely caught her hand within his. "Ginny, please," he begged, hauling her to a standstill before the steep drop down to the river. "Let me go!" she growled at him, emphasizing each and every syllable, whilst her eyes glittered furiously at him through the darkness. Harry's breath tore out of him in little ragged bursts as he stared at her, almost as if he had never seen her before. Ginny's temper was legendary within the Weasley family for its savagery, and although Harry had witnessed it on a couple of occasions, it had never yet been directed at him. "No," he said firmly, looking straight at her. Whatever she might think of him now there was absolutely no way he was going to let her run off into the night when Death Eaters might be around. He'd carry her kicking and screaming back to The Burrow if he had to, and looking at her expression of rage, Harry suddenly realised that this was a real possibility. "Harry, I mean it," she shouted, wriggling her hand to escape his grasp. The rain was relentless, soaking them both. Ginny's bare arms shone in the moonlight as the water trickled down them. "Ginny, I'll let go if you stay," Harry said, offering her the sweater with his free hand. "Give me one good reason why I should," she snapped, snatching the jumper out of his hand and flinging it aside. "One reason why I should stay, Harry? Just one." "I'll give you two reasons," he said quietly, stooping to retrieve the item. "The first one is there might be Death Eaters around, and I don't want you to go through that again. The other reason is that, whatever you might think of me, I really do love you." In the silence that followed, he pulled her gently underneath the heavy canopy of the oak tree, where it was still slightly sheltered from the rain. Fire still blazed from her eyes, and he reluctantly released her. "Oh thank you so much," she retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm as she rubbed some life back into her wrist. "I do so enjoy being treated as a possession, to be thrown around as you see fit." "Gin, there is absolutely no way…" he began, desperately trying to placate her. He reached out to try and soothe her, but she jerked away from him. "Don't," she spat at him. He watched the emotions tempestuously crossing her brown eyes, wishing with all his might that he knew what to do, or what to say to her. "I suppose you think he's right." "I don't know what to think anymore," Harry exclaimed, sinking down onto a nearby tree root and running his hands through his damp hair. "I just want this to stop. I want things to go back to being like they were a few hours ago, Ginny. I can't bear this…" He felt the vaguely familiar constricting sensation of a lump forming in his throat and stared out over the darkness of the valley, a series of cold droplets shivering from the tree down his neck. The lights of Ottery St. Catchpole twinkled warmly through the gloom, far out along the riverbank, but up on the ridge it was cold and exposed, with nowhere to turn for comfort. "A baby, Harry," her voice rose with passion once more. "You heard him. He seriously expects us to do that. After everything we've been through, he still wants more. It can't be the only way. It just can't be." There was a slight quaver of desperation in her voice, which made Harry glance back up at her. She looked so much younger than her sixteen years and seemed suddenly so vulnerable. "Why can't we have a normal life like everyone else? Why has Voldemort got to spoil every last thing we do? Why Harry? Why?" To his amazement, she burst into uncharacteristic floods of tears and collapsed into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. "Ginny," he exclaimed, gathering her tightly to him. "Shhh! It's OK." He rocked her gently, trying to stem the tide of emotions that threatened to engulf them both. Each shuddering cry tore at his heart, encompassing him with a sense of guilt. He smoothed her wet hair away from her face, and talked softly of a loving nothingness to her, waiting for the storm to subside. At last the tears ceased, and her cries became little hiccupping sobs. She stretched her arms up around his neck, and nuzzled her head in there. "Sorry," she choked, shaking still in his embrace. "Gin, you've got nothing to be sorry for," he asserted quickly. "You didn't ask for any of this to happen." "I shouldn't have lost my temper with you like that," she gulped, struggling to control her feelings. "It's hardly your fault. I knew from the start what being in your life would be like, and… and…" "Neither of us could have predicted what Dumbledore's just asked," Harry said grimly. "Ginny, look at me." She shook her head and burrowed further into the security of his body. "Please," he said, gently lifting her gaze to his. Her face was swollen and stained by the tears that had flowed torrentially over its contours, the darkness of her eyes awash with a multitude of naked emotions in the paleness of the light. "Ginny," he whispered. "I promise you, no one is going to force us into anything. Not now, not ever." A weak ghost of a smile twitched at the corner of her mouth, and impulsively he hugged her tightly. "We'll be all right." "Will we?" her voice wobbled uncertainly with the question. "I hope so," he heaved a heavy sigh. "As long as I don't lose you, I can stand up to pretty much everything Voldemort wants to throw at me." "We'll face him together, the same as we always have," she said, blinking back the tears that shone in the moonlight. Silence fell between them. The rain had steadied to a lighter drizzle, but they were both so wet it barely mattered. They clung together, desperately seeking refuge from the real world. Ginny shivered suddenly. "You're cold," he said, anxiously. "I'm fine," she said, rather unconvincingly. She took a deep breath before continuing, "I don't think I could face… I can't go back up there. Not yet." "I know," Harry said, understanding completely what they would walk in to back at The Burrow. "But they're going to be worried about us out here, and if we're much longer, I think there'll be a rescue party heading after us." "A few more minutes?" she pleaded. "Just to… you know." Harry stretched out an arm for the sodden discarded sweater and pointed his wand at it. "I've never tried this before," he smiled at her. "Knowing my luck, I'll end up setting it on fire, rather than drying it out. Another excuse for one of your brothers to kill me." She gave a wobbly giggle, and watched him cast the spell. "Put it on," he urged her. She nodded, and wriggled into the giant sweater. "Percy's," she said regarding the clothing with the air of a wine connoisseur, before pulling her damp hair through the neck. Harry chuckled at the sight. The sweater fell almost to her knees, covering all but the very hem of her dress, and the sleeves hung miles below her hands. "You've done a good job," she smiled, wrinkling her nose at him. "Nice and warm, and only smells slightly singed." "Hey!" he objected, grabbing hold of her, and pulling her onto his lap. "Say that again." His hands poised themselves to tickle her, but she shook her head. "Hold me," she whispered, the hurt still evident in the darkness of her eyes. Harry needed no second bidding. The moon shone down, its brightness echoed on the river, reflection distorted by the mist of rain that still tumbled down on the scene. He heard Ginny catch her breath, and she pointed out over the valley. What seemed to be a small white version of a rainbow reached up above the water, arching through the night sky with a fragile beauty. Harry looked at it in amazement; the monochrome bow shone gently, reminding him of the colour and purity of a unicorn. "A moonlight rainbow," she whispered, getting to her feet without tearing her eyes from the scene. "I've only ever seen this once before." "It's incredible," he agreed, moving towards her. "Ginny?" "Yes?" she turned around to face him, the moonlight magically shimmering behind her. "I'm sorry for all this," he said, still feeling unbearably guilty. "I know," she said softly, reaching up to kiss him. "No matter what your background's going to throw at us next, I'll always love you, Harry." ***** They slipped through the kitchen door into the warmth of The Burrow. The candles flickered brightly in the sudden draft from the door, and the kettle was whistling to the boil on the stove. Harry wrapped his arm protectively around Ginny, causing her to look up at him and smile. "We're back," he said nervously. There was a sudden shriek of relief, as Mrs Weasley laid eyes on them and would have rushed across the kitchen to hug them, had it not been for Mr Weasley's restraining hand on her arm. "Give them a chance, Molly," he said gently. "They've had even more of a shock with this than we have." "Where's Dumbledore?" Harry asked, as his eyes scanned the kitchen. He felt Ginny tense under his arm. "Gone back to Hogwarts," Mrs Weasley said, with a disparaging sniff. "He said if you needed to ask him anything, you should go through, but otherwise he'd talk to you on the first day of term. Honestly, I've always had the utmost respect for that man, but he's really gone too far this time. I don't know what he was thinking of…" "Molly," Mr Weasley said warningly. Cups of tea were magically whisked across the kitchen, and landed heavily on the scrubbed wooden table, splashing the hot liquid everywhere in her anger. "No, I won't be shushed," she said furiously. "The whole idea is completely ridiculous, and there's no reason to put either of them through something like this." "Go and get out of those wet clothes," Mr Weasley said kindly to Harry and Ginny, who were still hovering beside the door. "We'll talk more later." "Dad," Ginny said, choking back the tears again. "I just want to go to bed. I can't take any more of this tonight." "We can talk tomorrow, can't we?" Harry asked, feeling a similar desperation for time alone to think things through. Then an unpleasant thought struck him. "Do the others know about this yet?" "No," Mr Weasley said, shooting a quick glance at his wife. "They know something is wrong, but we haven't told them why Dumbledore was here. Obviously we will need to include them at some point, but not right now; it's not going to help the situation if more people get upset tonight." "Thanks Dad," a flicker of a smile crossed Ginny's face, as she crossed the room to hug him. "Oh Ginny," he sighed, hugging her tightly. He picked up her left hand and carefully examined the silvery scar zigzagging across the inside of her wrist with a very serious expression. "I wish I had a simple answer for you that would put everything right," he said heavily. "I remember when you were born, Gin, feeling the real wonder of finally having a little girl after all of your brothers, and I promised you, there and then, that I'd look after you. Sometimes it feels like I don't do a very good job at keeping that promise." "You do, Dad," she protested. "It's like the diary. You always told me never to trust something if you can't see where it keeps its brains, and it was me who didn't listen to you." A glimmer of her impish grin appeared on her face as she added, "But I suppose you never told me that I shouldn't fall in love with Harry, so maybe I can blame you for this." "Nice try," her father chuckled, kissing her forehead. "I know better than to get involved between you and Harry. Now have something warm to drink and get yourself off to bed." "Hot milk," Mrs Weasley said briskly, and Ginny pulled a face of disgust. "It'll help you sleep, otherwise you'll be awake worrying all night. You too," she added sternly, looking at Harry, who didn't dare argue for once. Steaming mugs of milk in hand, they left the kitchen, and pulled the door shut behind them. Ginny raised a finger to her lips, and moved to a dark corner of the hallway, where a green leafy plant with drooping leaves resided on top of a wooden trestle. The plant looked slightly the worse for wear, and Harry soon realised why. Ginny's hot milk was swiftly administered to the ailing shrub, and the foliage seemed to wilt a bit more before his very eyes. "Don't worry," she grinned. "It's either the plant or me that has to suffer, and I reckon it's in a better state than I am right now. It's been getting hot milk for years and I haven't killed it yet." Harry was just about to open his mouth to reply, when the raised voices of Mr and Mrs Weasley drifted through the door, pinning them to the spot. "We can't hide from the truth of this Molly, however hard it's going to be on those two. Dumbledore's right; the whole world as we know it could come crashing down at any second, and things are definitely getting worse with every day that goes by." "They're far too young," Mrs Weasley replied firmly. "Even supposing Dumbledore has a point about Harry's background, Ginny's still only sixteen. Another year or two, and maybe then it wouldn't be so bad." "She'll be seventeen in a couple of months," Mr Weasley said in a flat tone. "An adult wizard, more than capable of making her own decisions, as if she'd ever let us forget it. I hate to say this, but I don't think we've got long left, and unless they act on Dumbledore's suggestion quickly, it's going to be too late. Yes, I agree, they're young, and this is nowhere near the way I always pictured things working out for her, but don't forget, we were still teenagers when we had Bill, and he turned out all right." "Yes, but we'd finished school," Mrs Weasley retaliated angrily. "I can't believe you're taking this so calmly Arthur. Anyone would think you wanted them to go ahead with this." "Look at them," he said gently. "Molly, you've seen the two of them together, and how devoted they are to each other. Ginny did that charm for Harry, and he's almost died trying to protect her. If anyone can cope with something like this, it's those two." Mrs Weasley's voice softened as she said, "Oh Arthur, I don't know. She's still our baby, and I don't want her getting dragged into this battle with You Know Who." "She's involved already, Molly," Mr Weasley replied, so quietly that they could barely hear him. "I don't like it any more than you do, but she's never going to give Harry up, and I'm not sure I'd want her to." "No," Mrs Weasley agreed. "They've been through so much, one way and another. But, really, how are they going to manage with a baby?" "Molly Weasley," her husband remarked, with a trace of humour in his voice. "Are you seriously telling me that you can resist the lure of our first grandchild? I have visions of you Apparating the length of the country on a daily basis if they go ahead with this." "I suppose I would, at that," she laughed, rather unexpectedly. "Anyway, it's not a foregone conclusion: they might decide not to." "True enough," Mr Weasley replied. "And Harry might well come out of this battle unscathed. I hope so, for all our sakes." Harry had heard enough, and tugged at Ginny's hand to encourage her to follow him up the stairs. They paused beside her bedroom door. "Will you be OK?" he whispered, holding her tightly in his arms. "I'll try," she said honestly. "If I'm not, I'll sneak up to see you." She chuckled rather dryly. "I suppose one advantage of this is that if they catch me up there, they can't really say anything, not after what Dumbledore's asked us to do."
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