Thanks to all of you who have been reading and reviewing. I'm glad to see that so many people like it and that even if you didn't, you still took the time to tell me! I hope you enjoy this chapter -- it's one of my favorites.
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Category: Alternate Universe Characters:Harry/Ginny Genres: Action/Adventure, Angst, Drama, Fluff, General, Romance Warnings: Extreme Language, Sexual Situations Story is Complete Rating: R Reviews: 725 Summary: Their nightmares and demons bound them together. Their love helped them to survive. Harry Potter and Ginny Weasley knew they needed each other; the trouble was in admitting it. Hitcount: Story Total: 277267; Chapter Total: 15962 Awards: View Trophy Room Author's Notes: |
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Chapter 12 A few weeks after he’d gone to stay at the Burrow, Harry fell into bed, exhausted after a day of degnoming the garden. He felt obligated to help around the house since the Weasleys were letting him stay there all summer. “Harry.” Ron knocked on his door and entered the room. “Are you awake? I need to tell you something.” “What is it?” Ron sat on the edge of his bed, and Harry heard the wooden frame creak as he shifted around on it. “I’ve realized something. Something awful.” Harry looked up at him then in concern. “What’s wrong?” Ron swallowed heavily. “I think I like Hermione…you know…in that way.” Whatever Harry had expected hear, it wasn’t that. “Are you mad?” he said incredulously. “Of course you like her.” “You knew?” ”Ron!” Harry sat up. “We ALL knew. Why do you think you acted like a jealous git over Viktor Krum all last term?” “Well, if you knew why in the bloody hell didn’t you tell me!” Ron burst out. “Hell, Harry, you could have said something before!” Harry gaped at him. “Like you would have listened! Believe me, mate, if I thought it would have helped, I would have pointed it out months ago.” Ron collapsed on his back onto the foot of his bed with a thump. “I can’t believe you knew all this time, and you didn’t say anything. A simple, ‘Oi, Ron, you like Hermione!’ would have sufficed.” Harry couldn’t help himself, and he laughed. “Ginny wanted to,” he informed his friend, “but I convinced her it would be better if you realized it on your own.” Ron huffed and remained silent. “So, what are you going to do about it?” The bed creaked as Ron sat back up. “Nothing for it, mate. I’ve got to tell her. She’ll probably laugh in my face, but I don’t see any other way around it. Either I make a fool out of myself now telling her or later trying to impress her.” Harry rolled his eyes in the darkness. Ron was blind if he couldn’t see that Hermione liked him as well. ”I don’t think you’ll embarrass yourself,” he said. “Just be honest with her. And don’t pick a fight with her.” Ron snorted and stood, heading for the door. “Easier said than done.” ******* Ginny sat up in her bed at the Burrow, her head and heart pounding. She gasped, trying to breathe air into her lungs, but it felt like she was fighting for every breath. The dream had been the worse one yet. Ginny threw back the bedclothes and wearily swung her legs around to the side of the bed. She glanced over at Hermione, hoping that her nightmare hadn’t made too much noise, but her bushy-haired friend appeared to be fast asleep. Stumbling on shaky legs, Ginny walked to her bedroom door and down the hall to the bathroom where she splashed water on her face. She forced herself to look in the mirror and was disgusted to see the bloodshot eyes and dark circles underneath them that betrayed her lack of sleep the past two weeks. The dreams had begun the second night of the summer and had grown steadily worse in the weeks since. They were always the same: Tom Riddle, whose face alternated between the 16-year-old boy who’d possessed her and a large green snake, was pursuing her through a dark house. Ginny twisted and turned around corners all while knowing she couldn’t, and wouldn’t escape. Eventually, he caught her, and the scene shifted to another location. In this one, Tom forced Ginny to watch while he tortured and killed a family. She could never see their faces, but she knew it was a family by the way the father and mother begged for their children’s lives to be spared. Tom seemed to focus especially on the taller boy. She didn’t know who it was but she had the feeling she ought to know. Tom never let her see the boy’s face – only the dark hair and tall silhouette. Ginny sighed and splashed more water on her face. The thing that had awoken in her the night that Voldemort returned to power was making her insane. She hadn’t told anyone , but she could feel Tom’s presence inside of her. Sometimes she swore he was whispering to her. It was driving her mad. She desperately wanted to tell someone and had thought about confiding in Harry, but he’d been getting steadily better since their return to the Burrow, and she hadn’t wanted to ruin his mental and emotional recovery from the events of last term. She’d also thought about asking to see Dumbledore, but then her parents would want know why, and she’d be forced to lie to them. But the Headmaster would have to know eventually. She couldn’t keep something like this a secret for long. If Tom’s connection to her was stronger since he’d returned to his body then Dumbledore needed to know. She’d die before she’d let that snake use her against her family… and Harry. Sliding a towel off a nearby wall hook, Ginny patted her face dry and opened the door silently. She paused outside Harry’s door, half-hoping that he would be awake and they could go for a night time fly. It wouldn’t be the first time they’d ran into each other after nightmares this summer. Most times they met in the kitchen. They’d found several entertaining ways to distract themselves from nightmares – many of them centred on Ron and the twins. Harry hadn’t asked about her nightmares yet, but she knew it was just a matter of time before he cornered her and made her talk. She moved down the hall back to her own bedroom when she heard a soft snore from behind Harry’s door. Cursing to herself in parseltongue, Ginny crossed the hall back to her own bedroom and crawled silently back under the covers. ****** Harry was just digging into a full Weasley breakfast of bangers, mash and eggs when Ginny stumbled down to the kitchen table, obviously still half asleep. Mrs. Weasley greeted her gaily, but she just grumbled back and sat down next to Harry. She propped her head up on her hand and nearly fell asleep into the bowl of porridge Mrs. Weasley placed in front of her. Harry nudged Ron who was heartily shoving two sausages into his mouth at the same time. “What?” his friend asked. Only the word didn’t come out quite that clear, as his mouth was full of food. “Never mind,” Harry said, disgusted with the bits of food Ron had sprayed in his direction. Harry wanted someone besides himself to notice that Ginny was obviously out of sorts. She had been for the past two days actually. She’d been sleeping later and later and when she finally did get up, she acted like she hadn’t slept at all. She’d been grumpy and ill-tempered, and yesterday she’d yelled at Harry when he’d taken his own broom out for a fly. Apparently, she’d been planning on nicking it. Of course, he’d yelled right back at her, and they’d had a flaming row under her bedroom window until it had hit Harry that Ginny probably wasn’t really angry with him at all, and he’d left in a huff for the paddock behind the Burrow. “What’s up with you?” Harry asked under his breath in parseltongue. He figured she’d be more likely to answer him if her family couldn’t understand. The fact that Mrs. Weasley stiffened when she heard him didn’t escape his notice. It was no secret that Ginny’s mum did not like the idea of her daughter speaking in parseltongue. “Nothing,” was Ginny’s short reply. She dug her spoon into her porridge but didn’t take a bite. “Ginny,” Harry warned. She shot him a look that told him he was pushing his interference but answered anyway. “I’ve been having bad dreams,” she said in parseltongue. “But they’re…odd. Tom is there, and he’s doing something horrible to someone I care about, but I can’t tell who it is. Right before I see the face, I wake up. They seem really real, and it’s hard to get back to sleep when they happen.” “Will you two stop that,” Ron said suddenly. “It gives me the willies.” Ginny turned an icy gaze on him. “Prejudiced much, Ron?” Ron snorted into his pumpkin juice. “Not likely. It just sounds weird.” “So do the pig sounds you make when you’re eating but we don’t make you take your breakfast in the barn,” she retorted angrily. Ron stuck his tongue out at her and shoved the last bit of his sausage in his mouth before standing up. “I’m going to go for a fly. Coming, Harry?” “In a bit,” Harry replied. “I’m not done eating yet.” After he’d gone, Ginny turned her chair so she was facing Harry and propped her legs up in his lap. He yelped when her cold feet brushed his arm. “Blimey Ginny! You just got out of bed, how can your feet always be so cold?” He put down his fork and covered her feet with both hands, trying to warm them with friction. She smiled at him and took a bite of sausage off his plate. Harry slid one hand up to an ankle and massaged it gently, almost absentmindedly while he finished his breakfast with the other hand. He’d just taken his final gulp of pumpkin juice when the Daily Prophet owl swooped in and dropped the paper in Ginny’s lap. Mrs. Weasley rushed to drop a knut in the pouch on the bird’s leg and began clearing the breakfast things. Harry rubbed Ginny’s feet again while remarking, “You have the tiniest toes” when he felt Ginny start to tremble. He looked up at her in alarm to find her gripping the edges of the newspaper with both hands. Her face was white and the paper was shaking in her grasp as she stared at it with wide eyes. “Ginny? What’s wrong? What is it?” “It’s – it’s Michael,” she whispered shakily. She looked at Harry, tears in her eyes. “He’s -- he’s dead. T-Tom k-killed him.” Harry lunged for the paper, ripped it out of her hands and handed it to Mrs. Weasley who was standing next to the table, her mouth covered with both hands. “Harry? Harry!” Ginny was going into convulsions, and she looked like she might pass out. Harry set her feet down on the floor and grabbed her out of her seat to pull her onto his lap. He cradled her like a small child and looked at Mrs. Weasley who sunk into the seat on the other side of him. They read the paper together while Ginny trembled in Harry’s arms. Voldemort had attacked Michael and his family in the middle of the night. The Dark Mark had been found hanging over their home by neighbours who had reported several flashes of green light. Ministry Aurors had confirmed that Michael and his parents were victims of the Killing curse. No one seemed to know why the Corner family was targeted as Voldemort had left the rest of the wizards in the area alone. “He killed him because of me,” Ginny whimpered, her face buried in Harry’s neck. “Those dreams. Tom was killing Michael. He was sending me visions, Harry. I just know it.” She lifted her head to look at him. “He killed him because we were dating. I don’t think he’ll ever let me go.” Harry could only stare at her. When she pressed her face back into his neck he looked helplessly at Mrs. Weasley who nodded and stood up to send a letter to Dumbledore and Mr. Weasley. Harry pressed fierce kisses on Ginny’s temple and down the side of her face and held her when she started to cry. “It’s going to be all right, Gin,” he said into her ear. “We’ll get him, I promise. He won’t get away with it. I promise.” Harry believed even himself. He was going to kill Tom Riddle with his bare hands. ******* The funeral for Michael Corner and his family was held two days later at an undisclosed location. Only Ginny and her brother Bill attended from the Weasley family as Dumbledore hadn’t wanted to attract Voldemort’s attention any more than was necessary. He’d even suggested that Ginny not attend the service, but she’d protested strongly and he’d agreed to let her go with Bill. Ginny and Bill were gone for two days. Ginny had wanted to spend some time with Michael’s grandparents even though she’d told Harry she didn’t think anything would assuage the guilt she felt over Michael’s death. He’d tried to tell her it wasn’t her fault, but that was like trying to tell him that Cedric’s death wasn’t his fault; and since he was pretty positive it was at least partially his fault, he understood how she felt. Harry had dreams about Cedric’s death almost nightly at the beginning of the summer. He was thoroughly enjoying himself at the Weasleys’ house but it wasn’t until three weeks into the summer that he started sleeping through the night. Ginny and Harry had found interesting ways to entertain themselves when they happened to both awake because of a nightmare. Pranks on the twins, Ron and even Mr. and Mrs. Weasley had been great fun and Harry didn’t think he’d ever had a better summer. When she returned home from the funeral Ginny was understandably sullen and morose. She had headed straight for her room where she spent three days before emerging. Mrs. Weasley had wanted to force her to come out, but Bill and Mr. Weasley had convinced her that Ginny needed time to grieve alone. When Ginny finally did come out, she’d immediately picked a fight with Harry who let her because he knew she was just letting off steam. Even though they’d shouted at each other in the living room over Ginny’s attitude, he knew she felt a little better when she came down to breakfast the next morning. After breakfast, Ginny volunteered to degnome the garden and insisted she didn’t want any help. Harry waited a few minutes before following her outside and leaned against the fence as she chased down gnomes and hurled them into the meadow beyond. “Nice one,” he commented after a particularly good throw. She scowled at him and chased after another potato-like gnome, which she hurled even farther before turning to him, breathing heavily. “What do you want, Harry?” He shrugged. “I just wanted to see how you were doing.” “I’m fine,” she said through gritted teeth. She bent down and snagged another gnome, tossing it mercilessly over the fence. “Anything you want to talk about?” “Nope.” He watched while she stalked a gnome around a rosebush. “Must’ve been hard,” he commented. “Meeting Michael’s family and all. I can’t imagine how difficult that must have been for you.” The truth was he could imagine it, he’d had to meet with Cedric’s parents after the tournament, but he didn’t think this was a good time to bring that up. “Yup.” Harry took a deep breath and pushed himself up from the fence. “Look, Ginny, I just want you to know that I’m your friend, okay? I love you and if there’s anything you want to talk about, anything you want to get off your chest, I’m here for you.” Ginny didn’t respond except to grab another gnome by the ankles and toss it over the fence. “When you’re ready to talk, just let me know,” said Harry. He was a little disappointed by her lack of response, but knew she might just need more time. He turned to go. He’d gotten to the edge of the garden when Ginny said, “What was that middle part again?” He turned back. “What do you mean?” Ginny straightened up and faced him, her hands on her hips. “Did you say you loved me?” Harry opened his mouth, and then shut it again, and then opened it back up. He let out a nervous laugh, “Well, um-“ “Harry Potter loves me.” She was teasing him now, a typically-Ginny sardonic grin tugging at her lips. “All I meant was-“ “No, seriously – very sweet,” she assured him. “You love me.” Harry laughed nervously again and decided to look everywhere but directly at her. “No… you love me. You can’t take it back, there’s no takebacks.” Harry rolled his eyes and turned to head back towards the house. “You’re dreaming, Ginny!” he called over his shoulder. “You love me,” she reminded him, a wide grin on her face. “You’re dreaming it.” “Uh-huh. I know what you said, Harry. I know what I heard,” she called. “You love me.” “Dreamer,” he shouted back, letting the kitchen door slam behind him. He would deny he said such a thing to his dying day. “Oh-kay,” Ginny said under her breath. A smile still on her face, she bent down to grab another gnome and tossed it over the fence. ****** Three days later, Dumbledore moved Harry and the entire Weasley family to Sirius’s family home at No. 12 Grimmauld Place. He said it was for their protection, but Harry and Ron decided it was actually some sort of punishment. Compared to the Burrow the place was a prison. It was dark and dreary and there was no place to ride your broom; although Fred and George had tried several times – much to the delight of Sirius. Shortly after their arrival, Hermione arrived and Ron immediately ushered her behind a closed door. Harry winked at him as he shut their bedroom door in his face, but Ron just scowled at him. Later, Ron and Hermione appeared in the kitchen, holding hands and beaming. Ron’s ears were red, and Harry could have sworn he had a little bit of lip-gloss at the corner of his mouth. Living with Sirius was the only good thing about the move. For the first time in his life, Harry let himself feel like he had, maybe not a parent, but an older brother or uncle perhaps. Someone who was looking out for just him; someone who was solely on his side. It was Sirius who went head-to-head with Mrs. Weasley and insisted that Harry be allowed to know what the Order of the Phoenix and Voldemort were up to. And it was Sirius who brought Harry some of his favourite magical defence books and suggested Harry might want to do some “extra” reading this summer. It was also Sirius who teased him about Ginny. No matter how many times Harry protested they were just friends, Sirius was relentless. “She reminds me a bit of your mother, Harry,” he said. “What is it with Potters and redheads?” He caught Harry’s eye and let out a sharp bark of laughter that sounded eerily like an actual dog’s bark. “Except…” Sirius hesitated. “What?” Harry asked, curious in spite of himself. “Except what?” “Except that she’s got a…I don’t know…a sort of quality,” Sirius said slowly. “She’s strong, as was your mother, and powerful certainly, but there’s something about her that seems…tough – almost hard. Sometimes you feel like she’s fighting just to smile.” “Voldemort killed her boyfriend,” Harry said defensively. “How would you be?” Sirius examined the walls they were cleaning thoughtfully. “Was she in love with the bloke?” “I dunno,” Harry said. “I expect she feels more guilt than anything. He killed him just because he was dating Ginny. She’s still dealing with it. She used to be a bit more…fun.” “Bet you know how she feels,” Sirius pointed out. “You’re blaming yourself for Cedric’s death.” “Even though it wasn’t your fault,” he added under his breath. Harry rolled his eyes. He’d grown weary of people telling him Cedric’s death wasn’t his fault. And as much as Harry wanted to believe that, he knew he would always feel some responsibility for it. “Maybe you could try talking to her,” Sirius suggested. “I have,” Harry said shortly. “But you can’t rush her. She’ll talk when she’s ready.” The truth was that Harry had noticed Ginny pulling further and further away from everyone. She hadn’t had any sort of breakdown since that first one, when she’d read about Michael’s death in the newspaper, but she spent a lot of time alone. Harry had caught her curled up on his bed several times, lost in the defence books Sirius had given him. Occasionally she’d deem to play a game of exploding snap or chess, but most of the time she was reading or scrubbing furiously at whatever Mrs. Weasley had assigned them to clean that day. Sirius looked at him critically. “All joking aside then, you two are close aren’t you?” “Yes,” Harry answered. “But don’t remind her, she’ll probably sock me for talking about her behind her back.” “Kissed her yet?” “What? No! I told you, we’re just friends, Sirius!” Harry threw his dirty rag at his godfather who caught it laughing. “We just…uh…have a lot in common.” “Yes,” said Sirius, suddenly strangely quiet. “I imagine you do.” Later that evening, Harry, Ron, Hermione and Ginny were finishing up the rest of their summer homework in the parlour when Fred and George suggested an epic game of Muggle poker upstairs. Ron set aside his essay eagerly, and even Hermione was convinced to participate after Fred and George threatened to bodily carry her up the stairs. Harry stood up to follow when he noticed Ginny had remained on the couch. “Coming, Fury?” He stopped in the doorway and looked back at her. She looked up and smiled briefly at him. “No thanks. I want to finish this.” Harry instantly decided he’d had enough. Ginny was the best poker player in the house; it wasn’t like her to choose homework over playing. “Harry, c’mon!” Harry looked at Ron waiting for him at the foot of the stairs and then back at Ginny whose head was bent over her essay. “I’ll be up in a minute Ron,” he said, coming to a decision. “You can deal me in when I get there.” Ron looked past Harry to his sister sitting on the couch and nodded briefly. “Right. See you in a bit.” Harry waited until he heard Ron’s footsteps reach the top of the stairs before turning back to Ginny. He walked over, whipped the parchment and quill out of her hand and set it on the table next to her. She looked up at him in surprise, but he just turned his back to her and sat down. Right on top of her. “Harry!” Ginny squirmed underneath him. “What are you doing?” “I’m sitting here and I’m not moving until you agree to talk to me,” he informed her. He braced his feet against the floor and pushed her back into the cushions. “I’ve let you mope enough,” he continued. “When Ginny Weasley turns down the chance to whip her brothers’ arses at poker, I know something’s wrong. And we’re going to sit here until you tell me what it is.” “Harry, you’re heavy! Get off me!” Ginny tried shoving him off, but he was too heavy for her. “Oh look. What’s this in my pocket? My wand! I wonder what I can do with that?” Harry mused. “The words ‘permanent sticking charm’ come to mind. I’m sure the Ministry won’t be able to tell, not in this house anyway.” “Get. Off. Me.” Ginny thumped and pounded on his back with her fists. She tried moving her legs, but he’d rendered her immobile. “Only one way I know of to get me to move, Ginny,” Harry reminded her. “I tried being nice about this. I left you alone, I told you that I was ready whenever you wanted to talk, but it’s been nearly two months now and you’ve turned into a sulky, standoffish git.” “Nice,” Ginny said, her words dripping with sarcasm. “That’s a sure way to get me to confide in you. Call me names. Oh, I can’t wait to pour my heart out.” “Ginny,” Harry warned. “You are my friend, and I want to help you, but you’ve got to meet me halfway.” “Squashing me to death is helping?” Ginny asked incredulously. “Point,” Harry conceded. “But if you’d just talk, I’d get off.” Ginny huffed against his back and fell silent. Harry waited a moment to see if she would begin talking, but when she remained silent he spoke again. “Say, would you mind scratching my back? It could use a good scratching.” He wiggled his back at her and fought back a laugh. “When I can feel my legs again, I am going to kill you,” Ginny said plainly. “Are you ready to talk?” Ginny sighed and let her forehead rest against his back. “Fine, I’ll talk. Now would you please move?” ”Promise?” Harry said warily. “Promise. Here, lift up a little bit.” Harry pushed himself off her legs a few inches and she spread them before tugging him back down to sit in the space between her spread thighs. Harry leaned back against her until his head was tucked in the space where her shoulder met her neck. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, her forearms resting on his chest. Her legs came up and wrapped around his waist, her feet resting on his thighs. He sighed happily. “This is very comfortable.” She grunted, and he reached up to hold both of her hands in his. “Okay, now will you please tell me what’s bothering you?” “I should think it was obvious,” she said dryly. “Gin, I know you feel guilty, I understand that, I really do. But you must know that you are not responsible for Michael or his parents’ death. Voldemort made that decision on his own. He’s an evil bastard.” “But still, if I hadn’t dated him, he wouldn’t be dead,” she whispered. “Maybe,” Harry said. “Or maybe not. And you couldn’t have known what Tom would do. Are you going to stop dating for the rest of your life just in case Voldemort decides to go after them?” “Maybe.” Harry sighed and shook his head. “I don’t think that’s the right attitude to have. If you do that, you’re letting him control your life, your happiness. Don’t you see? That’s what he wants! He wants to ruin every good thing in your life. In my life. In everyone’s life.” “Do you still feel guilty about Cedric?” He swallowed heavily. “Yes. Intensely so sometimes. But I know, I KNOW, that even though I’ll always feel some responsibility for it, logically, it wasn’t my fault. I can’t foresee the future and there’s no way to change what happened. I have to ask myself, what could I have done differently? And the answer is: nothing. I did what I thought was best.” “Voldemort wants you to feel guilty,” he pleaded with her. “He wants you sacrifice your own happiness. He wants you broken and beaten down so he can swoop in without a fight. He’s the one that’s weak. You are strong. And, yeah, it hurts. It’s probably always going to hurt, but you have to ask yourself, what would Tom Riddle want you to do? And then do the opposite.” “That’s quite a speech,” she commented. She tugged one of her hands from his grasp and used it to stroke his hair back from his forehead. ”Thanks, I’ve been working on it for awhile. It’s a mixture of things you, Hermione and Sirius keep telling me.” She laughed then, and he felt her press her cheek against the side of his head. “Do you want to know the worst part?” she asked softly. “What?” “I didn’t even love him,” Ginny said. “We hadn’t known each other very long, but I knew that I wasn’t in love with him. He was nice, and he paid lots of attention to me and I thought ‘what the hell, someone finally finds me attractive,’ but I wasn’t in love with him. He died, and he didn’t even get to die for love.” She gave a bitter laugh. “I probably would have dumped him eventually – pity I didn’t do it sooner.” Harry wanted to say that HE found her attractive, and that he had for a long time, but he sensed it wouldn’t be the best time to mention it. “He didn’t die for nothing,” Harry said firmly. “Because of his death, people are starting to believe Professor Dumbledore about Voldemort being back. Despite the Ministry insisting he’s not.” “I just get so angry sometimes Harry,” she said, frustrated. “So angry that I want to HIT something. Tom Riddle preferably.” “You can hit me,” he offered. “That’s sweet but no. I feel like pummelling something. It was better at the Burrow when I could degnome the garden or something.” “Is that why you’ve been stalking around here like an angry cat and scrubbing floors?” “Yeah,” she said. “The only good part is that Tom hasn’t visited my nightmares lately.” “I wonder if we could find you a punching bag,” Harry thought out loud. “What’s that?” He sat up and twisted halfway around so he could look at her. “It’s a muggle thing,” he said excitedly. “You wear padded gloves and you hit this big heavy bag filled with sand. Its how boxers train for fights. I wonder if your Dad knows how to get one. We’ll ask him tomorrow at breakfast.” He stood up and held out a hand to pull her up. “C’mon, let’s go join the game.” She took his hand, but resisted his efforts to pull her up. “I don’t know. It’d be like pretending nothing had happened, wouldn’t it?” “So you can’t have fun because what… Michael might not think you’re honouring his memory?” Harry looked at her in disbelief. “That’s crazy, Ginny. Life doesn’t end. Haven’t you been listening to anything I’ve said?” “I have, Harry, I really have,” she assured him. “It’s just,” she looked down and twisted the hem of her jumper around her finger. “It just feels…unfair. That I get to be alive and he doesn’t. That I get to have fun and he doesn’t.” Harry didn’t know what to say to that. Because he’d felt the same way about Cedric. Cedric who was a loyal Hufflepuff, who’d had a beautiful girlfriend, who was Head Boy, and who should have been alive so that he could pass his NEWTS with flying colours. Cedric, who had a million friends… “I know, Ginny,” he said finally. He cleared his throat. “But I don’t know what to tell you. Life shouldn’t stop because people die. We’ve got to keep going or Voldemort wins anyway. I don’t know why we’re alive and they aren’t, but there’s got to be a reason for it.” He squatted down in front of her. “I, for one, am glad you’re here,” he said quietly. “Sometimes, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” Ginny looked at him, a wary look in her eyes. “I really mean that. And for what it’s worth, I think you are very attractive,” Harry finished. “I’d shag you in a minute.” Ginny’s mouth dropped open, and she stared at him in shock. “Harry Potter! I can’t believe you said that!” Harry fell back on the floor, roaring with laughter. “You should have seen your face!” He laughed some more, and she picked up a pillow from the couch and threw it at him. He caught in his stomach, but it did nothing to stop the laughter. “Well, I wouldn’t shag you,” she said primly, getting to her feet. She purposely stepped on his stomach as she stepped over him and headed for the stairs. “Where are you going?” Harry lifted his head to inquire. “To the poker game. You did say you wanted me to kick your arse, didn’t you?” She looked back at him innocently. He laughed again. He got to his feet, and when he reached the foot of the stairs where she was waiting, he bent down and scooped her up, throwing her over his shoulder. ”C’mon,” he said, slapping her on her rump. “I feel like watching Ron cry again when you take all his money.” ”Harry Potter! I know you did NOT just hit me on my bum!” “Honestly, Ginny, you’re such a prude today.” They passed Sirius and Remus in the hallway, and Harry waved at them merrily while Ginny complained that all the blood was rushing to her head. “No, Harry,” Sirius whispered sarcastically under his breath after the two had passed. “Nothing going on there at all.” ******* As it turned out, Mr. Weasley wasn’t much help in finding Ginny a muggle punching bag. Sirius, however, came through with flying colours. He frowned thoughtfully when Harry had made his request the next morning at breakfast. “A muggle punching bag? What do you want that for?” he asked. “It’s not for me,” Harry said, looking anywhere but at his godfather. “It’s for Ginny.” A delighted grin spread over Sirius’ face, but whatever he was going to say was effectively silenced when Ginny entered the room. Harry examined her face carefully for signs of a nightmare, but her eyes were clear, and she gave him a tiny smile that he hoped meant that she was feeling a little better. She slid into the seat next to him, and Harry turned his attention back to Sirius. “So where is it?” Sirius wiped his mouth with his napkin and stood up to take his breakfast dishes to the sink. “It’s downstairs in the basement,” he told them. “Along with some gloves. I’m not sure why it’s there as my parents abhorred all things muggle, but my older brother Regulus somehow convinced them it was necessary. And since Regulus usually got what he wanted, they bought him one. I don’t think it’s been used very much, but I’m sure Regulus put some sort of preservation charm on everything. You’re welcome to it. Just don’t hurt him too much, Ginny.” Ginny snickered while Harry choked on his pumpkin juice. “Hey,” he protested, once he swallowed. “I can take her!” Sirius let out a bark of laughter. “Sure you can, Harry. Sure you can.” Ginny laughed again, and Sirius joined her as he sat back down at the table with a cup of tea. “Do you know how to box?” Harry asked eagerly. “Will you show us how to use it?” “Sure,” Sirius shrugged. “It’s pretty easy to learn how to punch a heavy bag though. It’s people who are hard to hit.” Two weeks later, Harry and Sirius were watching Ginny pummel the heavy bag in the corner of Grimmauld Place’s basement. The small redhead was an impressive sight of fists and feet. She’d even added her own improvisations to the moves Sirius had shown them when she added a kick to series of punches. Harry had tried to copy her, but he just wasn’t as limber as Ginny. Harry knew hitting the punching bag was helping Ginny get rid of a lot of angry energy, but he hadn’t anticipated how much better it would make him feel. He’d felt a little silly at first, but quickly grew to appreciate how good it felt to hit something. Lately he’d felt the anger inside of him swelling out of control. Professor Dumbledore had refused to look at him the other day, and Mrs. Weasley was insistent that he remain a child as long as possible. She and Sirius fought daily over whether Harry was old enough to know Voldemort’s movements. Dumbledore had refused to talk to either him or Ginny, even after she’d purposely hung behind everyone to talk to him. She hadn’t told Harry what she wanted to talk to the Headmaster about, but when the Professor had made some flimsy excuse and flooed out of Grimmauld Place, she’d gotten very angry. She and Harry had both worked up quite a sweat that night in the basement. Harry tore his gaze away from the sight of Ginny’s stomach muscles clenching and flexing as she worked the bag over. When she’d first donned the black sports bra and stretchy black pants Tonks had brought to headquarters for her, Harry had been unable to hide his staring. He’d never seen so much of Ginny’s skin and workout clothes or not – she was dead sexy in them. Since then, he’d gotten more used to seeing her in the outfit, but he still occasionally caught himself staring. “It’s a good thing her brothers aren’t here to see you drool over their baby sister,” Sirius murmured to Harry. He nudged Harry in the side with a sharp elbow and didn’t even try to hide his grin when his godson scowled at him. “I’m not drooling,” Harry hissed at Sirius. “I’m just, you know… admiring.” Sirius snorted. “It’s okay, you know. You’re allowed to look.” “No, I’m not,” Harry said shortly. “She’s my friend.” He decided not to deny that he’d been checking Ginny out. It wasn’t the first time Sirius had caught him at it. “Sure,” Sirius said knowingly. Harry was about to retort when they both heard someone descending the steps. Ginny must have heard the noise as well because she stood in place, panting heavily, her gloved hands moving to still the punching bag. Harry was shocked when Professor Dumbledore appeared in the doorway. He smiled genially at them, glancing questioningly at the sweating Ginny before looking back at Sirius. “Sirius,” he began conversationally. “I wonder if you might let me have a word with Harry and Ginny. Alone.” Sirius’ gaze narrowed, but he nodded sharply. “Drink something so you don’t get dehydrated,” he said, looking hard at Ginny, before he turned towards the stairs. Ginny nodded and walked over to Harry, holding her gloves out for him to untie. Dumbledore waited until Sirius ascended the stairs and closed the door behind him. Harry silently handed Ginny a towel and waited for their Professor to speak. “I must begin by apologizing to both of you,” Dumbledore said. “I promised you we would speak long before this but I have been… busy.” Ginny nodded. Her lips tightened, but she remained silent. “What did you want to talk to us about, Professor?” Harry asked. Dumbledore sighed and pulled out his wand. He conjured up three purple, squashy chairs and motioned for them to sit down. “I want to talk about Voldemort,” Dumbledore said bluntly. “I know Sirius has spoken to you, Harry, about some of his movements this summer, and I assume you have shared this information with your friends.” His eyes slid pointedly towards Ginny. “He’s not told us much,” Harry shrugged. “Just that the Order is guarding something at the Ministry that Voldemort wants. I gather he’s been pretty silent other than that.” Dumbledore shook his head slowly. “It’s true, Voldemort has remained rather silent. And this worries me. It means he’s planning something.” “What?” Ginny spoke for the first time. “I wish I knew,” Dumbledore said ruefully. “But I have a bad feeling that when it comes to Voldemort – no news is bad news.” Harry didn’t know what to say to that so he and Ginny both remained silent while they waited for Dumbledore to tell them the reason for this impromptu meeting. ”Just tell us, Professor,” Ginny finally said bluntly. “What is it?” The old wizard smiled faintly and took a deep breath. “Very well,” he said. “I know that you, Ginevra, have been able to feel a connection to Tom Riddle since he regained his body and your connection to him, Harry, has already been established. This connection worries me.” “How so?” Harry was instantly on his guard. “I’m afraid that Voldemort will be able to… use you.” Ginny stiffened, but didn’t seem surprised by this announcement. Dumbledore noticed and said, “This doesn’t surprise you, Ginny?” She hesitated, and then shook her head. “No. I’d wondered the same thing.” ”Why?” Harry asked shrewdly. “Why would you assume that?” Ginny opened her mouth and then closed it and then opened it up again. “Um… well, my dreams – I think Tom is influencing them. And well…I think…I think I can hear him speaking to me sometimes.” Both Dumbledore and Harry inhaled sharply and Ginny rushed to explain. “It seems to be Tom, not Voldemort. It’s almost like a whisper, in my head. And it doesn’t happen all the time, just when I’m angry, or upset about something. Or in my dreams. Once, he even sent me a vision.” “What sort of vision?” Dumbledore asked sharply. Ginny shrugged. “It was of the Chamber. When he took me down there. I saw myself on the ground where Harry found me. It was creepy, but nothing I haven’t seen in my nightmares a million times. And of course there were those series of visions about Michael.” Dumbledore looked at her with what Harry decided was sympathy before his gaze shifted to Harry. “And you, Harry? Have you had visions you couldn’t explain?” Harry shifted uncomfortably. “Well, sir, I wouldn’t call them visions exactly. More like…reoccurring dreams.” Dumbledore lifted his eyebrows. “What happens in them?” Harry shrugged. “It’s a long corridor, but I wake up before I can open the door.” Dumbledore’s eyes narrowed, and he stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Very well, I trust you will both keep me informed if you have more visions or dreams. You can send a letter with Hagrid.” He stood up to go, and Ginny sprang up as well. ”Wait a minute,” she said hotly. “You haven’t explained how Voldemort intends to use us.” Dumbledore smiled genially at her. “I wish I knew, Miss Weasley. The truth is I have no idea.” ”But the connection,” Harry said nervously. “Between us and Voldemort. There’s got to be something we can do about that.” “Ah, yes, I did forget to mention that, silly of me.” Dumbledore took a deep breath. “I’ve arranged for you both to receive Occlumency lessons from Professor Snape. Occlumency is a way of blocking your mind from intruders and Snape is an accomplished-” ”We know what Occlumency is, Professor,” Harry said harshly, “and there is no way we’re taking lessons from Snape.” “Professor Snape,” Dumbledore said mildly. “There is no way in bloody hell we are taking lessons from Professor Snape,” Ginny said sharply, her arms crossed over her chest. “I’m not letting that greasy-haired git into my mind.” Dumbledore drew himself up and folded his hands together in his sleeves. “It is the only option we have right now in protecting either of your minds from Voldemort,” he said. “Professor Snape is the best Occlumens I know. It’s him or nothing.” “Professor,” Harry said urgently. “Why can’t you teach us?” Dumbledore’s shoulders slumped a little. “I could not,” he said. “We can’t risk Voldemort using your connection to see into my head. Occlumency can go both ways, you know, and it would be very dangerous if either of you were to inadvertently break into my mind during lessons.” Harry shot Ginny a questioning look. She was flushed with anger, but she met his eyes with a hard stare, a silent conversation taking place between them. Harry nodded imperceptibly and looked back at Dumbledore who watching them with a curious look on his face. “Fine,” Harry said shortly. “We’ll do it with Snape, but if he tries anything the lessons are off.” “And you can tell him to check his anti-Gryffindor attitude at the door,” Ginny added. Dumbledore, who knew when to pick his battles, nodded and agreed easily before bidding them goodbye, leaving them alone in the basement. Harry felt like screaming in frustration. “Lessons with Snape!” he nearly shouted. “What the hell is he playing at? That git isn’t going to teach us a thing. He’s probably going to break into our minds and feed information to Voldemort!” “Harry,” Ginny said, interrupting his tirade. She held out her hands. “Put my gloves back on.” ******* After a hot shower that did little to ease the soreness of her muscles, Ginny made her way wearily to Buckbeak’s room. She needed time to think, and it was the only place in the house that was remotely private. After bowing slowly to Buckbeak and patting the hippogriff on his feathery head, Ginny slid down the wall next to his pen and rested her head in her hands. Punching that silly bag in the basement had done little to ease her mind. After Dumbledore had gone, she spent another thirty minutes hitting and kicking the bag and each time her fists hit, she’d heard Tom’s voice laughing at her. The words Dumbledore had said repeated themselves over and over again in her head: “Connection with Voldemort, connection with Voldemort…” And Snape! They were going to have to meet with Snape! Ginny shuddered. She didn’t want that hook-nosed bastard in her head – even if she did get along with him reasonably well. Poor Harry…Snape hated him more than he hated any other Gryffindor. She’d read about Occlumency – it was supposed to be very difficult to learn. They were surely in for it. She heard the door open and looked up to see Sirius enter the room. He glanced her direction, but bowed to Buckbeak and held up a bag full of rats to show the hippogriff. Ginny watched while Sirius dumped the bag in front of Buckbeak, who snapped them up eagerly. Sirius patted Buckbeak’s side affectionately before looking at Ginny. “He gets tired of being cooped up in here,” Sirius said. “I feel bad for him.” “Me too,” Ginny said sympathetically. “It must be hard on him not to be able to fly.” “Better than being dead, which is what he’ll be if the Ministry finds him,” Sirius said. “Guess that’s something.” Ginny nodded in agreement, and they spent several minutes in a comfortable silence while Buckbeak munched happily on his rats. “Are you going to hurt my godson?” Sirius asked suddenly. Ginny looked up startled. “What?” “Are you going to hurt Harry?” Sirius asked patiently. “I only ask because, well, he’s my godson – I’m the closest thing to a parent he has and it strikes me that parents ought to be concerned about such things.” “Why would I hurt Harry?” Ginny asked, frowning. “Why indeed,” Sirius said, stretching out his legs in front of him. “You’re very close, aren’t you?” ”Yes,” Ginny said, her brow wrinkling in confusion. “But does that mean I’m going to hurt him? Because we’re close friends?” Sirius shook his head in amusement. “You’re as blind as he is.” He swivelled his head towards her. “Let’s just cut to the chase, shall we? You’re in love with my godson.” Ginny’s mouth dropped open in shock. She would have stuttered, but she couldn’t bring herself to speak. She just stared at Sirius in amazement, his words ringing in her ears like a sort of echo. “It’s all right,” he assured her. “I think you’re perfect for him. Seal of approval and all that. I don’t think he knows though, so you’ll have to-“ ”I am not in love with Harry!” Ginny interrupted loudly, finding her voice. “What on earth gave you that idea?” Sirius titled his head at her. “Well, you’re very close – I’ve seen you together. And the way you act around each other,” he shrugged, “I just assumed.” “We act like friends!” Ginny shrieked. “Best friends!” Sirius just smirked in silence at her. “All right so we’re unusually close best friends,” Ginny snapped at him. “But we’ve been through a lot together. Harry’s got my back and I’ve got his.” “Do you deny that you’re attracted to him?” he asked. Ginny opened her mouth to deny it but an image of a sweaty Harry, naked from the torso up, punching that muggle bag downstairs flashed through her mind. The way his green eyes glittered in concentration…his messy black hair, wet with sweat, falling into his eyes…the boyish grin he sometimes gave her…the way her lips tingled long after he’d pecked them in a friendly kiss goodnight… Sirius let out a bark of laughter. “Yeah, I’d say the flush on your lovely cheeks is an admission of guilt, Red.” “Well so what?” she snapped. “Harry is a very attractive guy. There’s nothing wrong with appreciating him. I assure you, though,” she gave him a withering glare, “we are just friends.” ‘Oh, c’mon, Red,” Sirius chided. “You’ve never thought of being more? Not even a little bit?” Ginny set aside her objections to that statement to gaze at him shrewdly. “Why are you doing this? Are you trying to set us up or something?” Sirius shifted under her gaze. “I just want him to be happy, okay? He’s my godson and well…you make him happy. He deserves you.” “Harry makes me happy too,” Ginny said slowly. “But not in the way that you mean. I’m not sure we could be what you’re suggesting. It might ruin our friendship and nothing,” she reached out to poke Sirius on the shoulder, “is more important to me than our friendship.” Sirius grabbed her finger and shook it a little before releasing it. “Yeah, I get that,” he said. “You can deny it all you want but there’s something more between you two. I can see it. I saw it with James and Lily and I see it with you and Harry.” Ginny’s face flushed red. She did NOT want to be compared to Harry’s parents. “Now, wait just a minute-” “Save it, Red,” Sirius interrupted. “You’re not going to say anything I haven’t heard before. But listen to me, Ginny,” he reached forward and grabbed her wrist. “There’s a bloody war on,” he said earnestly, “things happen, and those we care about could be gone before we had a chance to tell them how much they meant to us. One minute you’re on top of the world, and the next, everyone you love is gone. And it hurts even more because you can’t ever be sure they knew what they really meant to you. Don’t make the same mistakes I did. Tell Harry how you feel, before it’s too late.” “Harry knows how I feel, Sirius,” Ginny said softly. She withdrew her wrist and grasped his hand. “I promise.” Sirius shook his head. “You’re so blind; you don’t see what I see. Maybe it’s too soon; maybe I shouldn’t have said anything.” He shrugged and smiled sheepishly at her. “I had to try. If I learned one thing in Azkaban, it was to never let a moment pass you by. Regrets are something you live with forever.” Ginny smiled back at him and released his hand. “I’m glad you care for Harry so much. He needs that. He needs you.” “He needs you too,” Sirius said knowingly. The door opened just then and Harry poked his head around the corner. “Fury? Are you in – oh, hey… what’s going on?” “Just feeding Buckbeak,” Sirius said smoothly. He stood up and brushed off the seat of his robes. “Harry,” Ginny said conversationally, “Sirius was just telling me what an attractive person you are. He thinks we have deep-seeded feelings for each other and that we ought to get married or something.” She stood up and grinned smugly at Sirius whose mouth dropped open in surprise. “What?” Harry said sharply. He glared at Sirius. “Sirius, what the hell-“ “Red is just trying to get me in trouble,” Sirius glared at Ginny, who stuck her tongue out him. “We were just having a nice chat.” “A nice chat about Harry,” Ginny replied in a singsong voice. She smirked when Sirius dragged his finger across his throat in her direction and mouthed an obscenity at her. “No thanks, Sirius,” Ginny said cheerily. She looked at her watch. “Oh my goodness, will you look at the time? I told mum I’d help her with dinner.” She shot another knowing smirk at Sirius and walked towards the door. She stopped when she reached Harry and looked at him appraisingly. His hair was still wet from his shower and he smelled like soap. “You know what though? You are awfully attractive,” she grinned up at him. “Hmm…maybe I should-” she reached up and fisted her hands in Harry’s collar. She yanked him down and met his lips in a searing kiss. Harry let out a small huff in surprise, but he let her kiss him. Ginny moved her lips over Harry’s, and tried to wrench her mouth away when she felt him begin to respond to her. His hands shot up to grip her hips to stop her from leaving as he quickly took control of the kiss. Ginny felt her brain begin to turn to mush as the heat from his mouth ran like electricity through her blood until her entire body was tingling with the sensation. Warning bells were going off in her brain, but she had started this and now she had to finish it. She managed to gather enough strength to finally push Harry away. Ginny tried not to show how the kiss affected her, but she figured he could tell when her knees buckled. She stumbled into his chest and looked up with him through languid eyes. He grinned down at her as a slow smirk broke over her face. ”Enjoyed that, did you?” “Hmm…” she said noncommittally. “Just a bit.” “Well, I wasn’t trying very hard,” he said modestly. She laughed, and they grinned stupidly at each other. “You, Potter,” Ginny said, pushing herself away from his embrace, “are going to make some witch very, very happy someday. You need to get your arse out of your head and ask a girl out because it is a shame to keep that mouth off the streets.” She smiled brilliantly at him, shot Sirius a look, and patted Harry’s cheek before gliding gracefully from the room. Harry wiped a bit of lip gloss off the corner of his mouth and turned to face Sirius who had a mischievous look on his face. “Not a word, Sirius,” he warned. “Not a bloody word.” ******* Ginny awoke from her latest nightmare shaking with fright. She was used to nightmares that left her with the idea that she was terrified or dreams that relived horrific scenes from the Chamber of Secrets. But this dream had been different. Voldemort had killed Harry. There had been screaming, flashes of light and blood…lots of blood. She sat up in bed and pressed a shaking hand to her forehead. She tried to reassure herself that what happened in the dream was NOT what was going to happen to Harry. This wasn’t like her prophetic dreams about what had happened to Michael and his family. She tried to breathe past the pang in her heart when she thought about what Tom had done to Michael. When she thought about the same thing happening to Harry – the pang turned into a full-blown panic attack. Ginny threw back the covers and tiptoed past Hermione’s bed. She had to make sure Harry was all right. Once in the hallway, she walked quickly and silently to Ron and Harry’s room. She opened the door slowly and shut it softly behind her, freezing when Ron gave a loud snore and rolled over in his bed to face the wall. Relieved that the light from hallway hadn’t woken her brother up, she tiptoed to Harry’s bed and shook his shoulder gently. “Harry,” she whispered urgently. “Harry, wake up.” Harry shot up in bed and looked around panicked. “Wha-mmpf.” Ginny clamped a hand over his mouth and hissed in his ear. “Sshhh…it’s me. Don’t wake up Ron.” Harry blinked and fumbled for his glasses on the table beside the bed. “Ginny?” He said blearily. “What are you doing here? What’s wrong?” Ginny clenched her still trembling hands into fists. “I-I had a nightmare and had to see if you were okay.” Harry stared at her. “Well, I’m fine. No worries.” Ginny took a deep breath and smiled tremulously at him. “I know, of course you are. Silly, wasn’t it?” He continued to gaze searchingly at her, his bright eyes nearly glowing in the dark room. Just as Ginny decided she would return back to her bed, he put out a hand to stop her. “Wait. Do…do you want to get in?” He held up the edge of his blanket, and Ginny swore she could see him blushing. She smiled at him gratefully and climbed under the warm bedcovers. She went with her instincts and snuggled close to him. Tentatively, his arms came up to wrap around her shoulders and he lay back down, taking her with him. “What happened? In the dream?” Ginny shuddered, remembering the blood. “Voldemort killed you. There was lots of blood. It was so real, Harry.” He tightened his arms around her, and Ginny pressed her face into his hard chest. She let the sound of his steady heartbeat comfort her and found herself growing sleepy again. She felt Harry’s hand smooth down her back drawing circles over her t-shirt. She would have to wake up and be gone before Ron woke up, but for right now, she would let Harry hold her. |
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