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SIYE Time:11:07 on 29th March 2024
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Red Is The Heart
By St Margarets

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Category: Post-OotP, Buried Gems
Characters:All
Genres: Action/Adventure, Fluff
Warnings: None
Story is Complete
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 423
Summary: "In the end, it mattered not that you could not close your mind. It was your heart that saved you." Harry begins to understand the truth of this statement as he learns valuable lessons in love, friendship, and choices during his sixth year. A fluffy H/G tale of adventure. A sequel to the "Wallpaper" trilogy. (Read that first.)


Hitcount: Story Total: 109336; Chapter Total: 6871







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A/N: Thanks to Jo Wickaninnish for the beta read, hairy_hen who scolds me if I skirt too close to cliches, and Nic83 who cheerfully answers all of my Brit picking questions.

Chapter Ten: Spin

Rage filled Harry's mind as he read to the end of the poem. He did nothing to stop it - all he wanted was revenge. He knew it was Pansy Parkinson who wrote it, and he was going to make her pay.

Through the roaring in his ears and the black dots swimming in front of his eyes, he headed toward the Great Hall, the parchment clutched in one hand, his wand in the other. After two steps something tripped him, and he hit the stone floor with an oomph. Someone grabbed his wand and put a knee on the back of his neck.

"Righteous anger isn't going to solve this one, Potter."

He couldn't see his attacker, but he knew it was Nott. "Grr off me, Nott."

"Harry." A hand and a lock of blond hair came into view. Luna was crouching next to him. "You can't help Ginny this way. We have a plan, if you'll just listen."

He wanted to yell and throw Nott off of his back so he could hit someone. He wanted to stoke his anger, because if he didn't, he would be powerless . . .

"What the hell is going on?" Ron roared. "Get off him!"

"Anger management, Weasley," Nott said lazily.

Luna's hair disappeared from his view. "Read this, Ronald."

When Harry heard the hopeless fury behind the string of curses coming out of Ron's mouth, he knew he would have to do something, anything to make this go away. Storming into the Great Hall and hexing Pansy Parkinson, as satisfying as that would be, would just add fuel to the gossip surrounding Ginny. He was out of his depth and he knew it. He took a deep breath and said in a calmer voice, "Grr off, Nott."

Immediately, Nott removed his knee and gave him a hand up. Ron was holding the parchment, his face red. When Harry caught Ron's eye he could see his own helpless anger mirrored there.

"What's your plan?" Harry asked wearily, running the back of his hand across his mouth. His lip was bleeding

.

Nott raised one eyebrow. "You trust me?"

"No," Harry and Ron said together.

It was the first time Harry had ever seen the Slytherin smile. "You don't have to trust me. Just give me some information."

Harry wondered if they were doing the right thing. They didn't know anything about Theodore Nott except that his father was one of the Death Eaters who tried to kill them at the Department of Mysteries. His gaze slipped to Luna. She had been in the same danger as the rest of them, and she seemed to trust Nott . . .

"How did your sister come across this diary that's in the poem?"

"Lucius Malfoy slipped it to her," Ron spat out.

A satisfied light gleamed in Nott's eyes. "Why am I not surprised?"

Ron crossed his arms and asked, "So how did Pansy get involved?"

"Your sister must have done something to set Pansy off - Parkinson doesn't do anything with cold-blooded deliberation - yet another reason she shouldn't be in Slytherin."

Harry remembered that spat in the Quidditch stands a few weeks ago.

Ron was still trying to piece it together. "How did Pansy find out from Malfoy? He's in prison."

"But Draco's not."

Ron was considering this. "Draco's never used this before. I don't think he knew until now. Do you think he's communicating with his dad?"

"If he is, I'm sure they're touching letters, full of paternal wisdom," Nott said carelessly. "The question is, how do we turn this back on Pansy?"

"Why do you want to do that?" Ron asked, suspicion on his face. "She's your housemate and Ginny's nothing to you."

"Because this is an opportunity - to show the sheep at Hogwarts which side I'm on - once and for all," Nott answered. "And it's a chance to shut up that insufferable cow - once and for all."

"And you hate injustice," Luna added in a serene voice.

"Right." Nott gave a short laugh. "And I hate injustice."

"What are you going to do? Confront her at supper?" Ron asked.

"That would allow the largest audience," Nott conceded, "but it's a bit vulgar. I'm banking on the grapevine to pass on our little talk." His dark eyes narrowed. "Here's the bovine princess now - with her herd."

Pansy Parkinson was returning from Hogsmeade with Millicent Bulstrode and two other sixth year girls, he didn't know. When she saw Harry, a malicious smile played on her lips. Yet she saved her comments for Nott. "Slumming it are you? It's noble of you to renounce the Death Eaters, but I don't think your new companions are much of an improvement."

Pansy's shrill voice had attracted the attention of several students passing by. Many stopped within earshot. Anything to do with Theodore Nott or Harry Potter was bound to be interesting.

"I have a weakness for those celebrated in song," he said sardonically. " Speaking of which, your newest efforts have again made Slytherin a laughing stock."

"What are you talking about?" Pansy flashed. "Gryffindor can hang its head in shame - one of their own was doing the Dark Lord's bidding."

"Your facts are wrong - yet again, Parkinson. Lucius Malfoy was doing the Dark Lord's bidding by tricking an eleven-year-old girl. Another high water mark for the Malfoy family."

"Don't you dare say anything against the Malfoys," she bit out. "That Weasley brat allowed herself to be possessed! She put this entire school in danger."

"Has it ever occurred to that empty mind of yours to question why no one was killed, only petrified, by that Basilisk?" Nott demanded.

"Please," Pansy snorted, "you think that weak-minded, stupid girl found a way to control a Basilisk and resist the Dark Lord?"

"Why is she still alive then?"

Pansy opened and closed her mouth.

"You know that no one's ever survived possession by the Dark Lord." He loomed over her. "How'd she do it?"

"Good looks and charm?" she flared. "How should I know?"

He stepped back. "Yes, how would you know about good looks and charm?"

Pansy went white and then red at this latest gibe. "What's your game, Nott?"

"No game." He crossed his arms. "Thanks to you, Slytherin is again the most reviled house at Hogwarts. Bringing up that Heir of Slytherin rubbish was pure genius - it will only take a few more years for people to stop connecting us to the Dark Lord."

"That's not what I meant to do," she faltered and looked at her friends.

"No, I don't think you meant to praise a Weasley, either. But that's how she's going to be remembered."

"How?"

"Wha t do the Muggles call it - spin? That's the way we're going to talk it up. Any intelligent Slytherin is going to praise our little snake-charmer to the skies."

Pansy face contorted with rage. "You'll never get away with this, Nott. You think you're safe here with Dumbledore watching over you! I know your dad - he'll come after you first - you're a traitor to your family - to your blood."

Nott blanched, but answered calmly enough. "I wouldn't advertise your loyalty to blood right now, Pansy. People might get the wrong idea."

She quailed as she realized what she had just said. The eavesdropping students were whispering amongst themselves.

"This is your swan song, Parkinson." Nott glanced at Millicent Bulstrode. "Or is the fat lady going to sing?"

Turning on her heel, Pansy rushed off. Her friends looked at Nott appraisingly and then they too left, walking slowly toward the stairs to the dungeons.

Ron crumpled the parchment in his hand, looking grimly satisfied.

"Ron!" Hermione rushed up with a sheaf of papers in her hand. "Have you seen these? I've been pulling them off the notice boards ever since we returned from Hogsmeade. I know it was that cow, Pansy Parkinson! I'm telling Professor Snape - I don't care if he hates Gryffindor - he can't excuse that behavior - he should -"

"Good idea, Granger," Nott interrupted her, "Slytherin needs a change in Prefects."

Hermione looked at him in surprise as if she just realized he was there. Her eyes grew wider when she saw Luna and Harry as well. She turned to Ron and said wryly, "I think I missed something."

Ron shook his head, and then said in a mystified voice, "I'm not sure if I can explain it - but Nott here just had Pansy reveal that she's sympathetic to the Death Eaters and that Ginny was really the secret heroine behind the Basilisk attacks."

Hermione looked at Harry, bewildered. He could only shrug back at her.

"And don't forget, I'm now the noble champion for good, defying my evil family at great risk to my life," Nott said sarcastically.

"And don't forget," Luna added in her calm voice, "it's all true."

For once, Theodore Nott looked his age as he gazed uncertainly at Luna. She had just said he was a champion for good. She smiled at him and walked away without another word.

There's your drop of water, Harry thought, watching Nott try to rearrange his expression to one of cool indifference.

*

Ginny was sitting on the corner settee in the deserted common room, looking a bit dazed. A black cat with white paws regally stood guard, its tail wrapped around its haunches. The cat watched Harry approach, suspicion in its golden eyes.

"This is Mr. Boots?" he asked Ginny, wondering if the animal was going to let him sit down.

"Yes, Jeanne brought him over to comfort me." She gave him a wan smile. "And Diane prescribed the depression diet," she said, indicating the bowl of melting ice cream she had in her lap.

Harry addressed the cat. "I need to sit down now."

The cat didn't move a muscle.

"Isn't there a Mrs. Slippers you need to visit?" he asked in frustration.

Apparently there was, since Mr. Boots's ears twitched and he was off like a shot across the common room.

"There really is a Mrs. Slippers?"

Ginny's smile was a bit livelier. "A third year owns her - a sweet ginger cat."

"Ginger. I can see why Mr. Boots would be interested," he said sitting down. "Are you OK?"

"I'm not sure." She shrugged helplessly. "I mean, there's nothing new that can happen to me, except people know about my first year - or think they do. I've never had people talk about me behind my back - not like you."

"I don't know how much talking there's going to be, actually."

"Why?" She looked at him closely. "Your lip is bleeding. What did you do? You weren't in a fight, were you?" she asked anxiously.

"No, but I wanted to be," he admitted, "badly." Theodore Nott tripped me and practically sat on my head until I calmed down."

"Nott? Luna's project for the year?"

"The very same. It seems he has an axe to grind with Pansy Parkinson and the Malfoys. To make a long story short, the spin is that you kept the Basilisk from killing people, and survived being possessed. You get to be hero for the week - but you have to share center-stage with Nott for turning on his own evil family."

Ginny stared at him wide-eyed. "But - that's a great story and all - but we don't know if that's true. I don't remember any of it. How do you know if I did anything of the sort? I've thought about that a lot - it was just plain dumb luck that snake didn't kill anyone."

"You don't know that either - maybe you prevented something, maybe you didn't." He shrugged. "The thing is Nott has people thinking differently about that vile poem, and that's all that matters - which is something I never could have done."

"And you let him do it," Ginny said softly. "That's not like you at all. You really were thinking about me, weren't you?"

"I guess you have a new champion." He couldn't keep the question out of that statement as he stared at the floor, elbows on his knees. Somehow he felt like he had failed her, by not being the one to solve it.

At her silence, he looked over his shoulder at her. She was watching him with an expression he had never seen before, slightly amused, but tender nonetheless. "Theodore Nott doesn't care about me, it was convenient for him. You on the other hand . . ." She caressed his arm. "The purest motives from the purest heart."

Harry wasn't feeling particularly pure at that moment, but it was reassuring to hear that Ginny didn't think it was weak of him to turn over a fight to someone else. Relieved, he turned to kiss her, only remembering the cut on his lip when he touched her mouth. "Ow."

"Oh dear," Ginny giggled. "Here have this ice cream, it will take some of that swelling down."

Thinking that life really wasn't fair at times, he started eating. "Don't you want any?"

"I'm not hungry. Besides, I'm not up for the depression diet."

"I'm afraid to ask, but what is the depression diet exactly?" he asked, scrapping the bowl.

Ginny smiled. "Apparently, you start with ice cream. Then you go to chocolate. Somewhere in there you break it up with crisps - you know, the salt balances the sugar."

"Of course."

"So the next day - "

"The next day? How long are you supposed to be depressed?"

"This is key - now listen - the next day you don't eat anything. You just drink water. You won't mind because you're still full and bloated from all the salt and sugar you ate the day before."

Harry again realized he would never understand girls - ever. "So the goal of this diet is to feel fat instead of depressed?"

"No - there's day three."

"Day three!"

"Yes, on the morning of day three you wake up feeling virtuous for not eating anything the day before. It's like a new beginning. Then you can get on with your life."

Harry stared at her. "What ever happened to drowning your sorrows?"

"Too many calories."

"Too many - "

She was laughing now. "This is the calorie-free way to fight depression." She patted him on the knee. "Trying to explain the female mind to Harry."

"Glad I could help," he said, disgruntled.

"You do help," she said seriously. "In all kinds of ways." She slowly moved her face closer to his. Then she carefully kissed the side of his mouth, and then his top lip, and then on to the other side, avoiding the sore spot. He didn't breathe because he didn't want her to stop. I am now the Roger Davies of Gryffindor, he thought. And I don't care . . .

"There you are," Hermione called from the portrait hole. Harry wondered if she was going to reprimand them for kissing in the empty common room

.

Hermione had other things on her mind than Prefect duties, however. "Pansy Parkinson has been sacked as Prefect and she's in loads more trouble. Millicent Bulstrode is the new Prefect, although I don't know how much of an improvement she is going to be." She paused for a breath, her eyes gleaming. "Everyone is talking about how Nott tricked Pansy into revealing her sympathies. I don't think the bit about you and the Chamber is going to be as newsworthy, Ginny." And then she stopped and really looked at the two of them. "Are you ok - really?" she asked in a softer voice.

"I am. Really." Ginny smiled at Hermione. "Thanks for doing all that - for me. It means a lot."

Hermione blushed. "Well, it was the least I could do. I'm just glad Harry and Ron didn't lose their heads."

Harry was too, although it was somewhat galling to hear her point it out.

Hermione looked at her watch and said pointedly, "Everyone's at supper. You two should go down now."

"Ok," Harry said, not bothering to keep the disappointment out of his voice.

"I'll go first," Hermione said, smiling as she left them alone.

"Can all of us sit together tonight?" Ginny asked.

"That's a good idea. Ron and Hermione are experts at standing by the notorious," he said, feeling a surge of gratitude that he could rely on them to protect Ginny.

He squeezed her hand. "This will pass - someone will blow up a cauldron in Potions or get caught with firewhiskey and that will be the new gossip. And the Hogwarts Express leaves Monday for the holidays."

"I know." She sighed. "It's easy to sit here with you and not care - but when all those eyes are staring at me . . ."

"You can do it." He hated that she had to go through this, and again cursed Pansy under his breath.

As they walked hand in hand down the corridor, Harry asked, "Have you ever noticed that Roger Davies never looks depressed?"

*

Ginny had a couple of bad moments when some younger students asked her tactless questions about the Basilisk, but the rest of the weekend went by quietly. Most of the students were busy preparing to go home for the holidays. The Prefects were again stuck with the decorating duties, so Ron and Hermione had even less time to spend with Harry.

He noticed, because Ginny was bound and determined to continue studying over break. "Since when did you become a Ravenclaw?" he asked Monday morning as she poured over a spell-book.

"I want to finish this research so I can have this essay done before Christmas - then it won't be weighing at the back of my mind." Then she added, "You could try that, you know - doing your homework ahead of time."

"I didn't think that was an option for me," he said sarcastically. "I thought I had to procrastinate - thanks for pointing that out."

She put her quill down. "What's up with you?"

He stood up and wandered restlessly around the empty common room. He felt nervous and on edge and he didn't know why. "Sorry. I - look maybe I'll go for a walk - get some fresh air.

"Ok. I should be done in about an hour. Then we can spend some time together."

That mollified him somewhat, although he was starting to get a headache. Walking past the Great Hall, he heard someone as disgruntled as he was.

"Ron! I can't reach that hook from here and I'm going to drop this entire garland if you don't help me now."

"Just let it fall," came his impatient answer.

"The glass baubles are tied to it, and they'll break. And look how long it took us conjure them!"

Harry peeked in and saw Hermione balanced precariously on a very tall ladder, awkwardly holding the end of a twenty-foot garland. At that moment, Ron started up the ladder below her. "Blimey, Hermione, that's heavy!. I didn't know you were trying to put that one up! Why didn't you wait for me?"

"Because you were too busy putting the tinsel on the trees just so," she said acidly.

At two rungs below Hermione, Ron was eye level with her. With one long arm he grabbed the garland and easily looped it on the hook. She rubbed her arm and turned toward him, realizing too late that her face was inches from Ron's.

"Thanks," she said, blushing. Ron had one hand holding on to the ladder, which was just at the level of her waist. She backed away ever so slightly and moved into his arm.

Ron looked up and Hermione followed his gaze. They were under a sprig of mistletoe. Harry couldn't see Ron's face, but Hermione's eyes widened dreamily and her lips parted. Thinking he really shouldn't be spying on a big moment like this, Harry backed away and then heard, "Ron!"

"Sorry, Hermione - but a Nargle fell in your hair."

"A Nargle! There are no such things as Nargles!" She sounded thoroughly exasperated. Not that Harry blamed her, talk about ruining the mood.

"Oh, no? Look" Ron was showing her something in his hand.

"Ew, what do they do to you?"

"Oh they just wiggle around and make you itch. They'll infest furniture and rugs if you don't watch out."

"Mr. Weasly, Miss Granger!" Professor McGonagall called from the opposite entrance. "Two on a ladder is not safe. Climb down this instant, Mr. Weasley."

"There are Nargles in the mistletoe, Professor," Hermione defended.

"Oh?" McGonagall asked with raised eyebrows.

"Yeah," Ron said as he jumped down from the ladder. "See." He showed her whatever it was in his open palm.

Professor McGonagall cringed. "Jumping from that height isn't safe either." She adjusted her glasses and inspected the creature. "Yes, that's a Nargle. Hagrid will have to be more careful when gathering the greenery. Best take it down, Weasley."

Ron started up the ladder.

"By yourself, Weasley."

Ron turned red and backed away to allow Hermione to climb down the ladder.

Harry continued on his walk, thinking about Ron and Hermione and how, if he ever had to give someone The Talk, he would mention that strange fact that two people on a ladder could bring out the strongest of feelings.

*

Harry returned to the common room, feeling no better for his walk. His head hurt more than ever and extra adrenaline seemed to be coursing through his veins. He was glad to see Ginny was finished with her essay.

"Are you ok?" she asked, looking worried.

"I don't know - something isn't right - I can just feel it."

"Feel it how?"

"I dunno. I have this headache. Maybe I'm coming down with something."

"Like a case of You-Know-Who-itis?"

Harry hadn't thought of that, but the feeling was a lot like Voldemort knocking at the door of his mind. He almost wanted to answer it . . .

He had to fight that temptation. "Ginny, I know you hate it, but could you please put your hand on my head? Then I'll know if it is Voldemort or just garden-variety insanity."

"Sure Harry." She smiled sympathetically. "Let's sit on the settee."

He put her head in her lap. The instant she touched his forehead all the anxiety and agitation vanished. "It is Voldemort." He sighed, enjoying the respite from the pain and turmoil. . He didn't want to talk anymore because it was so peaceful just lying there surrounded by Ginny. If they could always stay this way, just the two of them . . .

"Why is this happening - with me - and you?" she asked. From the sound of her voice, he knew she was anything but at peace.

Resigning himself to the fact that he wasn't going to drift along in a blissful haze anytime soon, he frowned and thought back to what Tom Riddle had said in the Chamber. "Ok, I know this is going to sound weird, but Tom Riddle said he left some of himself in you."

"He did?" Ginny moved her hand away in astonishment. "What else did he say?"

Harry replaced her hand and said firmly. "Grass blue, sky green."

"Ok." She sounded rather relieved. "But what does this have to do with the line on my hand or your scar?"

"Dumbledore said Voldemort left a part of himself in me when he cursed me - like the ability to speak Parseltongue." He moved his head so he could see her face. "Do you think you can speak Parseltongue?"

"I don't know," she answered, "I never thought about it."

"Anyway." Harry felt a little foolish, like he was spouting some theory of Luna Lovegood's. "What if the Tom Riddle in you is reaching out across the chasms of time and space to the Voldemort in me? Then they're whole again and the leak in my mind seals itself."

"Harry, you've been listening to Days of Destiny!"

"I have not!" he exclaimed from under her hand.

"They always say 'reaching out across the chasms of time and space' in Days of Destiny. So 'fess up."

"Well Madam Pomfrey had it on when I was in the hospital wing. Maybe it seeped into my unconscious while I was sleeping."

"They do play a weeks worth of episodes on Sunday morning," Ginny said. "But why would You-Know-Who want to be reunited with Tom Riddle?"

"Because he is a complete egomaniac. That re-birthing he had when he made a new body for himself - totally against nature. Believe me, the only one he would want to call across time and space is himself."

"You're right," she marveled, "Tom Riddle was exactly like that." She absently stroked his hair with her other hand. "So then, you don't think this line is some sign that I'm turning into you - or we're destined to be together or something?"

"No!" He shuddered; he certainly didn't like the idea of being marked, and he was sure Ginny didn't either. "Your fate line said that you would make choices at a young age. You chose to defy Tom Riddle and saved yourself - even if you don't remember - it happened somehow. The rest of the line is when you chose to play Seeker and got cut. That's it." He pulled her hands away and sat up. "You're not stuck with me unless you choose to be."

Ginny started to say something but Harry never heard it, since Hermione and Ron burst in with horrified faces. "Something awful has happened," Hermione said. "All of Voldemort's Death Eaters escaped from Azkaban this morning."

"And the Dementors helped them," Ron finished grimly.

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