Part 1 – Summer
Chapter 6 - Revelations
The owls came over breakfast two weeks later. Hedwig made straight for Ginny, as she was still quite miffed at Harry and refused to even let him stroke her plumage or take an offered owl treat from him. Harry had done his best to apologize, but it was difficult to be continually rebuked by a bird, and anyway, he'd be leaving soon and he reckoned it was best that she stay bonded with Ginny.
Two barn owls carried sealed letters for Hermione and Harry, and a third dropped a thick envelope in front of Charlie. Harry recognized the seal immediately. Ron's Pigwidgeon missed the window entirely and Ron had to go out to retrieve him.
"It's from Hogwarts," Ron said as he sat back down at the table with Pig in his lap. He tore his letter open.
Something fell out of Hermione's, and it clonked heavily on the table. She held up a small badge, clearly shocked. It was bronze, and had the letters HG on it. Hermione Granger had made Head Girl. Congratulations flew all around, and Mrs. Weasley even got up to give her an extra helping of eggs. Hermione didn't look as thrilled as Harry would've imagined. In fact, she looked a little sick.
Harry shoved his own letter under the table, not feeling so right himself. Had he made Head Boy, like his father? It was a double-edged sword either way. He tried to tell himself it didn't matter, that he wasn't going back so it didn't matter. But somehow it did. Would his father have been proud? Disappointed? Would he understand Harry's decision not to graduate?
Ginny looked down the parchment tucked neatly inside her letter. "Mum, the book list is double last year's! And these look like new books." She handed her list to Ron, who concurred. She wouldn't be able to use his hand-me-downs.
"Don't worry, dear," Mrs. Weasley said. She offered a reassuring smile. "We'll manage. We always do."
Hermione was still staring at her Head Girl badge. Ron, beside her, gently took it out of her hand and slipped it back into the envelope. They still thought they were going with him, Harry realized. He would have to set the record straight that night after the Apparition test at the Ministry, and before Hermione could do something silly like return the badge with a note saying she wouldn't be attending.
Another owl flew through the window, getting feathers in the beans. It hopped on the table toward Mr. Weasley, who took the parchment from it, and placed a coin in the small pouch attached to its leg. "Ridiculous birds the Prophet has working for it now!" Mr. Weasley complained. "They're cutting corners all around!"
Harry could see the headline as it scrawled: HOGWARTS TO OPEN 1 SEPT: BRAVERY OR MADNESS FOR NEW HEADMISTRESS?
"Oh, look here," Mr. Weasley said as he read from the front page. "Minerva is to be the new Headmistress. Yes, that sounds right. Hmm…oh, yes, here it is. '…decision was made late last night that Minerva McGonagall, the former Transfiguration Professor at Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry will have complete autonomy over the hiring of whichever positions currently remain open at the school, a Ministry official assured, provided she is able to do so by midnight thirty August, at which time the Ministry will appoint any vacant positions with suitable professors.'"
"The thirtieth!" Mrs. Weasley exclaimed. "That's tomorrow!"
"What positions are vacant?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"Well, Defense Against the Dark Arts," Ron said around a piece of buttered toast. "But even Dumbledore had a time filling that one. Wonder who she'll ask."
"And Transfiguration," Ginny offered. "Stands to reason that the Headmistress won't be teaching any longer."
"But who would fill that post?" Harry asked. What was Transfigurations without Professor McGonagall? It didn't seem right that someone else would do it. And, who would be the new Head of Gryffindor?
Mr. Weasley raised his brows in shared doubt. "Suppose we'll know tomorrow, won't we? I wonder if that means Minerva won't be attending the meeting this evening."
"She'll be there," Charlie said, absently as he read through his own long roll of parchment.
"You haven't opened your letter," Ginny said quietly to Harry. "Aren't you even curious?"
"About what?" Harry said. "It's just a Hogwarts letter."
"What if you made Head Boy?"
"I didn't."
"How do you know?"
"I just do." Harry folded the letter and shoved it in his pocket.
She didn't press him as Hermione probably would have, had she been aware of anyone else at the table besides Ron. The two of them were making a show of eating, but their attention was focused on each other, and the shy smiles they exchanged. And now that he thought about it, Harry couldn't remember the last time he saw them row. It had to have been a week at least.
Charlie got up from the table.
"Off again, dear?" his mother asked. "Work for the Order, is it?"
"No, not as such," he said cryptically, and tucked his letter into his pocket.
"Oh," said Mrs. Weasley, clearly disappointed with his lack of candor. "Well…your father has been asking about when you think to return to Romania."
Mr. Weasley seemed surprised at this revelation.
Charlie smirked. "Trying to get rid of me, Mum?"
"Of course not," she said. "We just worry…won't you lose your position if you're gone too long?"
"It's been arranged," Charlie told her.
"Arranged? What's been arranged?"
"It's all right, Mum. My position is safe, and so is your house. I'll be leaving the day after tomorrow-"
"Oh, stay!" Mrs. Weasley urged. "Stay as long as you like. You know you're welcome! You'll always have a home here!"
"I know," he assured her.
She cupped his cheek and then kissed it. "Only do your old mum a favor and shave, won't you? You're all patchy. You look like a beggar."
"When I get back," Charlie assured. He kissed her cheek and left.
"Where does that one go?" Mrs. Weasley wondered aloud. Then she turned a stern eye on Ginny. "Has he told you anything?"
Ginny shook her head. Mrs. Weasley turned away, but Harry wasn't so deceived. What did she know? What would make her lie to her mother?
"Stop staring," Ginny said.
"What is it?" Harry whispered. "What did he tell you?"
She shivered a little. "Later," she said. Her gaze caught his and Harry found it impossible to look away. There it was again - that connection. He couldn't think of any other way of describing it. When he looked in her eyes he felt as if they were sharing something no one else could see; something only they could understand. The urge to kiss her became so profound Harry began to sweat. He pushed himself from the table as a last act of self-preservation, and fled up the stairs. By the time he made it to Ron's room his head was pounding, and he had trouble catching his breath.
"You all right, mate?" It was Ron, hovering at the door to give Harry space. "What happened? Is it your scar?"
"My what? Oh. No." It must've looked odd to see Harry flee the breakfast table. "I'm good."
"Well, that's a relief," Ron said. He pulled his robes from the back of his door, and handed Harry's to him as well. "Any disturbing dreams? You know, like the one you had of my dad at the Ministry that time?"
"Uh…no." Harry eyed his friend. Ron didn't seem concerned, but if he was asking these kinds of questions, he must be. "Really, I'm good," Harry assured him.
"Oh. Well, good. You'd tell me, though. Wouldn't you? If there was something?"
"Of course," Harry said. Wouldn't he? He always had, hadn't he? Eventually?
"Because, it could be important." Then Ron stepped in the room and shut the door. When he turned and met Harry's gaze, his expression was grim. "She's going with us. I've tried to talk her out of it, but she's right. We do need her."
"What are you…? I told Ginny no!" Harry said.
"Hermione," Ron said. "We're going to be in scrapes like we were at the Ministry. Worse, even." He ran a hand over his arm, and the scars left by those brain things. "She almost died, Harry. If she hadn't thrown a Silencing Charm on that Death Eater, he would've killed her. Or, if she'd missed, or if it hadn't been strong enough…she would've died." Ron looked sick, looked up at the ceiling. "It would've been devastating if she'd died then, Harry. I don't know if I would've gotten over it. But now…if I lost her now…Harry…"
"I know," Harry said.
"You don't!" Ron insisted. "You couldn't possibly! You and Ginny – well, I don't claim to understand that – but it's not the same. You don't feel what I feel!"
That surprised Harry. "How do you know?"
"When she smiles do you feel it in your belly? Do you want to touch her so much the bottom of your tongue itches? What would you do for her? I'd do anything – anything for her! And it scares me, Harry. Because I'm terrified she's going to wake up one morning and wonder what she's doing with a wanker like me, and go off and find someone better. Someone smarter or good-looking. An international Quidditch star, or someone with money who can give her everything she wants. Or, what if something happens to her? What if she throws a Silencing Charm that's not strong enough? What if I'm not fast enough, or powerful enough to Shield her?"
Was that what it felt like to be in love? Constant fear? Harry worried about Ginny, but not all the time. She was brutal in a fight, and if anyone could hold their own it was her. Of course, that wasn't going to stop Harry from leaving her behind, was it? She was safer without him. And he had to keep her safe. Maybe that's what it meant to love someone – to be willing to leave them behind. Harry didn't know.
"What about…" Harry began but hesitated, unsure he really wanted to share with Ron so openly. It was his sister, after all, and Harry didn't think Ron had the distance from Ginny that Charlie did.
"What about what?"
"Er…never mind."
Ron shook his head. "I won't lose her, Harry. I won't. And if you're keeping secrets for whatever reason, and something happens to her…well, you're my best mate, Harry, and we've been through a lot together, but that's not something we could ever come back from. Ever."
Harry thought he understood. If something happened to Ginny, he didn't know what he would do.
"Would you kill for her?" Harry asked quietly.
"In a heart beat."
"Then it is the same, and I do understand."
Ron considered him. "Yeah, maybe it is." He dropped down on to the edge of his bed. "Have you…you know…done it? Yet?"
"Uh…"
"Because," Ron continued despite Harry's reluctance to answer, "we have. We did it. And if you haven't yet, then…there are some things you should know."
An odd sound buzzed in Harry's ears as his brain rebelled. They'd done it! They'd slept together! Ron and Hermione had done it! Harry didn't want to think about it, but he couldn't get the image of Hermione sitting starkers on top of Ron…of his hands on her breasts and her legs folded on either side of him…
"Oh, bloody hell," Harry moaned. He didn't want to know this. He pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes to try to force the memory away. Red stars burst behind his eyelids.
"Hey, mate, I know," Ron said in sympathy, "but I wish someone had told me…you know, before, so there are some things you should know."
"Ron, stop," Harry pleaded.
"So…then…you have? She's not a virgin anymore?" Ron was looking at his knees. At least Harry had the satisfaction of knowing this was awkward for Ron, as well. "I thought maybe…because you're not officially dating her…I could tell you in time, only I didn't know how to bring it up. It's not really something that just comes out, you know. Oi, Harry! I've bagged Hermione-"
"We haven't," Harry said just to shut him up. Was that what Ron wanted to hear? Would he stop now?
"Oh. All right, then." Ron took a deep breath and Harry thought that would be the end of it. His relief was short lived. "When girls are virgins…they're tight. Down there. More than I expected. And there's this barrier, and you sort of have to break through it, you know, with your cock."
Harry couldn't look at him. Why did he say cock? Why was he still talking? What would Ron do if he cast a Muffle Spell on him? Because Ron didn't look like he had any intention of stopping on his own.
"You've heard of it? Of how it hurts them? Well, I had, and I didn't realize just how much it hurts. A lot. I thought that once I was, you know - in there - it would be easy in, easy out –"
"You hurt her?" Harry couldn't keep the accusation from his voice.
Ron nodded. "She cried. I felt like a right bloody bastard."
Harry didn't know what to say. He'd never heard of anything like that. Was that normal? What had he done to her? "She cried? You made her cry?"
"The thing is…I don't think it has to be like that. I think that there's a way to make it better for her. At least that's what George said. And the second go was a bit better-"
"George?" Harry asked. "You talked to him about this?"
"I didn't know what else to do!" Ron practically wailed. "She yelled at me to get off of her, and she got up and ran off, and she was crying, and there was blood – not a lot, but some, and it was awful. I thought maybe I'd popped her, you know, like a bubble or something. I thought maybe she was badly hurt. I mean, how would I explain that at St. Mungo's? Uh, sorry. Didn't know what I was doing, and I popped my girlfriend."
"So you went to George?"
"I panicked. Charlie was off somewhere - he's always off somewhere these days - and I couldn't go to Mum!"
Harry tried to figure out just when this might've happened. The only time he could think that they'd been alone was the previous Wednesday down at the lake. Hermione had come back to the house early, but she didn't look upset, and she certainly hadn't been crying. Had she? No, Harry would've noticed something like that. She and Ginny had gone up, then, and Harry had dozed down on the couch. He was supposed to have been researching.
"But, you see, George said if you can get her off first then things are much more relaxed for her…down there. I mean, we all know this, yeah? But, I thought I'd waited long enough - she was all hot and wet, right?"
"I don't want to hear this," Harry bit out. Hermione's breasts kept seeping into his brain, and her bare hips, and her rear straddling a naked lap. "No, no, we shouldn't talk about this stuff. Ever."
"Harry, listen to me. You've got to get her off completely before you try to, you know, push in. The first time it's not enough for her to be slick, because as soon as it hurts her she'll tense up and the lovely wet goes away-"
"Stop!" Harry said, and he stood to leave. Thankfully, his jeans were big enough to hide his budding bulge. Why would this arouse him? He was a perv. He had to get out of there.
"You can use your mouth," Ron said, following him down the stairs. "They like that."
"Shut up," Harry begged.
"On their lady bits," Ron continued without breaking his stride. "You can kiss them down there, and they come off quick. No time at all, really."
"Oh, Merlin, would you shut up?" The last thing he wanted to imagine about was Hermione climaxing and Ron using his mouth. "She's my friend! I don't want to think about her like that!"
Ron grabbed his shoulder and stopped him right there on the stair. "And Ginny's my sister. I don't want to think about you and her either, but this is more important. It was bad enough what happened with me and Hermione-"
"I'm not sleeping with your sister," Harry whispered angrily. Who else could hear them? It wasn't like the Burrow was a large place, or soundproof. "So drop it!"
'"I'm trying to help."
Harry didn't need help sleeping with Ginny. He'd been doing his damnedest to avoid that very thing. "Piss off!" Harry snapped, and came face to face with Hermione, who was just starting up the stair. His eyes immediately dropped.
"Harry?" she asked. "Are you two fighting?"
Harry shook his head. Behind him Ron stammered a weak, "Er…no."
"Right," she said. "Harry, my face is up here."
He felt his cheeks go hot as he realized he'd been staring at her chest. This is Hermione, he reminded himself as he pushed past her. Ron's Hermione. Ron was having sex with Hermione. He needed some air.
Ginny, who'd been in the kitchen, followed him outside. "Good luck on your test," she said. He stopped at the garden gate. Crookshanks was dozing in the sun and a gnome was tip-toeing past him.
"Thanks," Harry grumbled.
"Are you nervous?"
"No." He hated Apparating, but he could do it well enough.
"When are you leaving?" She asked as casually as she had the previous question, but for some reason it carried with it the weight of the world. She didn't mean for the test. She meant leaving.
"Soon," he told her.
"Tonight?"
"No." He needed to talk to Hermione and Ron first, and help them understand that they needed to go back to Hogwarts without him. It wasn't going to be an easy conversation.
"Tomorrow?" she asked, her voice barely a whisper.
He couldn't give her the answer she wanted, so he said nothing at all. His heart ached for her.
"Kiss me," she said. Her brown eyes poured into him.
He touched her chin with his thumb and held it in place as he gently brushed his lips over hers once, twice, three times. A feeling of warm contentment settled in the center of his chest. He could kiss her all day.
"Ready to go, Harry?" Mr. Weasley called from the door.
It didn't matter if he was ready or not. It was time.
The Ministry was alive with activity, and Mr. Weasley led them through the underground maze to the appropriate office. They arrived five minutes before their test was scheduled, and left ten minutes later, each with a folded Apparition license bearing their names. Newly liberated from the world of the non-Apparation, they escorted themselves home.
Harry, Ron and Hermione spent much of that afternoon pouring over another pile of books Hermione had produced, though she was cagey when asked where she got them from. That night Mrs. Weasley cooked up a special supper to celebrate Harry and Ron's success that morning, and even baked them a maroon and gold cake with the word CONGRATULATIONS written on it in sparkling blue icing that tingled on his tongue when Harry ate it. Afterwards, they settled back in the living room, Ron on his back on the floor, with his head in Hermione's lap, and Ginny joined them, sitting next to Harry on the couch. As they read, Harry was distracted by Hermione's hand as she absently played with the lock of hair at Ron's temple. Ron nodded off. Harry should've known that they were sleeping together. All the clues were there.
Charlie went out right after pudding, and again dodged questions as to where he was going. Really, he hadn't said much in the last few weeks beyond the causal hello and mention of the weather. He looked distracted much of the time; his easy grins became less and less easy. There had been no sign of whatever it was he'd told his father he'd give up his life for – and after much deliberation with Ginny, Harry decided that it had simply not come to pass. Ginny was less sure, and Harry noticed her tracking her brother's movements through the house whenever he was there.
"He hasn't shaved, and he's worn the same clothes three days in a row," she whispered to Harry. "Have you noticed?"
"I'm not stalking your brother, so no, I've not noticed," Harry told her. Ron grunted in his sleep.
"It's that witch. Esmerelda. The one who showed up at Bill's wedding. I asked him if he had had a row with her, and he said he'd have to find her before he could row with her. I reckon he's looking for her."
"Perhaps," Harry allowed. Though Charlie had been in and out at all times of the day and night for weeks now. Surely he would've found her by now. "Tonks knows where she is, doesn't she?"
"She won't tell him anything. I think she helped Esmerelda disappear."
"Why would she do that?" It didn't sound like Tonks to hide something from Charlie. He was her Secret Keeper, after all. "Aren't she and Charlie good friends?" Charlie had said they were the best of friends. What would Harry do if Hermione were to hide Ginny from him? He couldn't even imagine a scenario that would make her do that.
"I haven't the foggiest."
Ron woke with a jerk, and he reached up to touch Hermione's arm. It was just a finger near her elbow, and still Hermione shivered. She bent her head low, and the two of them began to whisper.
Ginny leaned closer to Harry. "Has he said anything to you?" Ginny asked.
"About what?"
Her tone went flat. "About Esmerelda."
"Uh…well, some. But I didn't know he was looking for her. Why would someone look for someone who doesn't want to be found?"
Ginny's brows rose and she gave him a sad look. "Really?"
Ron stood, then, and pulled Hermione up.
"Hey," said Harry. "Where are you going?"
"Er…getting another book," Ron said. His grin told a different story.
"And Hermione?" Harry asked. Would she lie so causally to him, too?
Hermione only gave him an apologetic shrug. They were leaving him with Ginny. Hermione had promised to provide him a buffer.
When he glanced over at Ginny she gave him a disgusted look. "I'm not going to jump you, so you can breathe, you git."
"What?" he asked defensively. It wasn't like there wasn't precedent.
She just shook her head and went back to her book. And strangely enough Harry wasn't quite as relieved as he thought he should be. She didn't want to snog? Since when? What if this was their last night together? What if he never saw her again? Something deep inside him seize when he considered that possibility. If he never saw her again…shouldn't he kiss her now?
"Harry, why are we looking for Godric's Hollow?" Ginny asked, her gaze still on the page. "Isn't that where your parents were hiding when they were killed?"
"Yeah," he said, and with the mention of his parents, suddenly snogging was the last thing on his mind.
"So, you've been there," she said.
"I was a baby," he said. "I hardly remember."
"But you were there. It's odd, isn't it, that you're looking for a place where the single most life-changing thing happened to you?" She looked up at him now. "Why would you do that? Why now?"
"I want to see my parents' graves. And…and it's where it all started for me." But there was more, wasn't there? More than he'd admitted to Ron and Hermione. Ginny was sitting there, considering him, and Harry thought maybe he could tell her. If there was anyone in the world he could tell it would be Ginny, wouldn't it? If there were anyone who might understand it would be her.
"I need to see it, Ginny. I need to stand in that house and be there where he cut them down. I need to understand why it happened."
She cocked her head to the side. "You know why it happened, Harry. He heard the prophecy, and he tried to stop it from happening."
"It could've been Neville, though. His birthday is the day before mine. Both at the end of July. Why did he choose me? Why did he kill my mum and dad? He could have chosen the Longbottoms, and I'd still have my parents, and I wouldn't be the boy who lived - I'd just be me, and you and I could…" Date. Snog. Shag. Be normal.
"So, you're looking for clues that will tell you why Voldemort does what he does?" Her thin, ginger brows knitted.
"I know it sounds mental," Harry said, and disappointment flooded through him. His cheeks went hot. She didn't understand. No, of course she didn't. He was meant to be alone.
"Even if the house is exactly as it was at that moment sixteen years ago, Harry, what do you expect to find? Voldemort is evil, and your parents were trying to fight him. He killed them because they were a threat to him, and because he reckoned you were one, too. It's not a mystery, Harry. What he did to you, to me, to all of us, it's not something that has to be deciphered. There's no greater meaning there. He's evil, he's maniacal, and he does what he does because he wants power. He loves it. It's his religion. He does what he does because he can. And we do what we do because someone has to stop the bugger."
That was all well and good, but it still didn't change Harry's mind. He wanted to see his parents' grave, to see the house. "I need to go there, Ginny."
"Then we'll go," she said, as if it were just that easy.
"Not we."
She turned back to her book, and Harry thought that was the end of it. He tried to force his attention to his own book, but the words didn't register. Ginny was close, and it had been days since he'd touched her, and even worse - it had been days since she'd touched him. He loved it when she touched him. No one else ever did. Well, Hermione did sometimes, but it was different. It wasn't sexual. No one had ever touched him the way Ginny did. Sometimes her hand rested lightly over his, or she'd run a finger down the front of his arm before it tangled playfully with his finger; her foot might find his under the table; she would ruffle the back of his hair while he hunched over a game of chess with Ron, or a hundred other little touches that could, at any moment, lead to her hands to travel under his shirt, up his ribs and over his tight nipples. Merlin, he loved it when she did that.
And she could touch him from across the room. Four days before she had smiled at him as they played Quidditch out in the orchard - she on her broom and he on his, more than half a court away, and his chest contracted. He'd been trying to get her to smile at him ever since. That was how Harry came to realize that Ginny didn't smile much.
"What about your grandparents?" Ginny asked out of the blue.
"Sorry?" Harry asked.
"Your grandparents. We know they're dead because Dumbledore said your only living relatives were your aunt and uncle, but you had grandparents at one time." She looked thoughtfully at him. "Were they from Godric's Hollow? Why would your parents choose that place?"
"'Dunno," Harry said. "I don't really know anything about them…" A memory of Sirius crouched down with him in front of the drawing room fireplace at number 12 came to mind. Harry couldn't remember what they had talked about, or what had sparked the conversation, but he did remember something his godfather had said. "They – I mean, my grandparents, my father's parents, they took Sirius in. He told me he ran away at sixteen, and dad's mum and dad took him in and treated him like a second son."
"So, Sirius knew them," Ginny said. "Makes sense that Lupin might've known them, too. Or, at least met them. What happened to them? Do you know?"
"No. I didn't think to ask."
Ginny worried her bottom lip. "Bet we could find out, if you want. Do you know their names?"
"No." She seemed a little taken aback, and Harry realized he'd snapped harder than he'd intended. "I mean, no, I don't know their names…and no, I don't want to know what happened to them.
"Oh. All right." She looked back down at her book for a long moment, but Harry could tell she wasn't reading.
"I'm sorry, Gin. I didn't mean to say it like that." What was wrong with him?
She gave him a little nod and reached up, cupped his cheek. A shiver crawled up Harry's back. He'd missed her so very much. Want took over, and he leaned in, and so did she, and their mouths met in the middle. The kiss was tentative this time, and gentle. Harry found himself nipping at her lips, seeking permission. She sighed a little, and he took the advantage, slipping his tongue between her teeth. Her hands went under his shirt as her tongue slowly slipped across his. With a happy groan, she lay back against the couch's arm and pulled him down on top of her. His hand went up her skirt, under her knickers and he squeezed her firm rear. A symphony of want twisted to life. She had such a perfect bum; round and firm.
"I'm taking the Potion," she whispered in his ear, and then kissed it. She suckled his lobe between her teeth. "We can do it. It's all right."
"Ginny," he groaned. "Why do you do this to me?"
"It's your hand in my knickers," she reminded him. She nipped at his jaw.
He squeezed again and his heart jumped when she moaned.
Then, she pushed him up off her. "What?" he asked. He certainly hadn't expected to be shoved away. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing," she whispered, and suddenly her hand was in the front of his demins, and wiggling to get inside his pants.
He grabbed her arm to stop her. "Not a good idea," he said through clenched teeth. He throbbed so hard he could hardly breathe.
She kissed his mouth. "Remember the garden?" How could he possibly forget? "I want that again."
"Ginny," he whimpered. Her fingers were reaching, and when she found him, they skimmed across the crown of him. He twitched and bucked, and her hand found a better grip. Harry groaned into her neck. He would never be able to refuse her. "Oh, bloody..."
She touched him tentatively, feeling just about his base, exploring, and Harry, able to breathe a little easier, took to sucking her neck as his fingers slipped up her shirt. He yanked the cloth of her bra down and played with her tight nipple. Her hand became less timid, and she began to stroke.
"Like this?" she asked.
He groaned, and suddenly just fondling her breasts wasn't enough. He shoved her shirt up to her arms and wrapped his mouth over one round, pink nipple. He sucked when she stroked, and flicked his tongue when she teased. Her other hand played roughly through his hair. She squeezed him, and he thrust into her hand. The pressure was building fast.
He reached down again - her skirt was already around her waist – her knickers were damp. He pushed the fabric aside and found warm, soft hair. Her hips thrust up and she gave a soft gasp of surprise. He looked up found her smiling at him.
"Do that again," she whispered. He complied, and she made a small noise in the back of her throat. "Hermione was right. That's lovely."
"Yeah?" he asked.
Her thumb traced over his sensitive tip in response. "Oh, yeah," he groaned.
He played with her thatch of hair and she began to move beneath him, and all the while they kissed with their tongues, and his ears roared with blood and heartbeat and his own garbled groans of pleasure. Then he found heat buried underneath the hair, and wet, and she gave an even more startling cry.
"Don't stop," she urged. "Higher."
He searched higher on her body, but it was difficult to concentrate. Her hand moved frantically over him now, pulling him toward an inevitable end. It became harder to think, harder to move anything but his hips. Her hand left his head and mingled with his between her legs. She nudged his finger to a particular spot.
"Push," she gasped. His finger sank inside her. Hot and wet swallowed him to his knuckle, and he felt her tighten around him. He couldn't even imagine how good that would feel around the part of him she was stroking, but he knew he wanted to find out.
No, don't even think about it. Ron's discretionary tail that morning lingered with him even now.
Her fingers slipped up and, with her eyes squeezed shut, she began stoking herself, and Harry thought he was going to die. She was so bloody sexy, and he was so bloody hard.
"Shit," he bit out. The pressure was coming too fast, too hard. "Shit." He pulled his finger out of her, and grabbed her arm, but he came before he could pull her hand from the line of fire. His eyes squeezed shut against the waves of searing pleasure. He grunted, his shaking thighs gave out and he collapsed down on top of her.
Head swimming, Harry tried to blink the fuzziness away. Every cell in his body was sated goo. It had never been like that before. Of course, it had never been with anyone else before, either. Ginny was wonderful. He managed to lift his head enough to smile at her. Her breast was exposed, and their hands rested on her bare belly, both wet and sticky. God, he loved her. It had to be love, didn't it? How could feelings that strong, that wonderful be anything else?
"Oh, my stars!" Mrs. Weasley's shrill voice stopped Harry's heart in his chest.
Ginny yanked her shirt down, and tried to right her skirt while Harry struggled to stand. Luckily his jeans were still buttoned, even if they were sporting a large wet spot.
"Harry!" Mrs. Weasley shrieked. "Ginny!"
Harry turned to hide the front of his jeans. "Uh…er…Mrs. Weasley…"
"Don't you Mrs. Weasley me! Arthur! Arthur get down here!" she called up the stairs.
"Oh, shit," Ginny said.
"Watch your tongue, young lady!" Mrs. Weasley snapped. "And on my couch! I expected better of you Harry!"
"What?" Ginny asked, defensively. "We were just snogging, Mum! I was just snogging my boyfriend!" Harry wasn't about to correct her.
"I know exactly what the two of you were doing! Arthur!"
"Molly!" he called, and came running down the stairs, wand drawn. "What is it?"
It was at this point that Charlie came in, saw his father's wand drawn, and drew his own. "What's happened?"
"Your sister!" she said, pointing an angry finger at Ginny. "And that boy!"
That boy? That boy? Harry had never been referred to as 'that boy' in the Weasley house before. The words rung in his ears and prickled his eyes. That boy! It was as if his Aunt Petunia had uttered them. He could almost hear her shrill voice. That boy!
Arthur went red and began to sputter a bit, and Ginny crossed her arms, her chin raised defiantly. "I was snogging my boyfriend."
"Er, Mum," Charlie said. He relaxed and put his wand away. "Want me to-"
"I most certainly do not! Arthur! Talk to the boy! Ginny, upstairs with you!"
"Me? What do you want me to do?" Mr. Weasley asked. "Surely Charlie would be better suited…they are, after all, of an age…"
Mrs. Weasley's glare shut him up. "Ginny, up! Now!"
Ginny have a frustrated growl and stomped up the stair. "This is so unfair!"
"I'll show you unfair, young lady! Go to your room!"
They were left, the three wizards, looking uncomfortably at the floor.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley," Harry began. Grief lodged itself in his throat, and he had to clear it. "I've betrayed your trust." And in doing so he'd lost the only parents he'd ever known. The sense of loss was profound, and Harry found himself blinking back tears. Alone. He was meant to be alone. No girlfriend, no family, and this was how he was to lose them all.
"Now, now, none of that, son," Mr. Weasley said. "Chin up." He pointed at the couch, and Harry sat, waiting for the final blow.
Charlie started back up the stair, but Mr. Weasley stopped him. "Won't you join us?" he pleaded.
Charlie smirked. "Need back up, do you?"
"Yes, yes," Mr. Weasley said, accepting the tease. He waved Charlie to the couch, too, and took his own seat in the chair opposite. "Just don't tell your mother."
Charlie dropped down with Harry on the couch - on the same couch Ginny had just been half naked on. On the same couch Harry had had his first-ever assisted orgasm. Harry crossed his legs and pulled his t-shirt down over the spot on his front, and again the urge to flee flared.
"So," said Charlie after an awkward silence. "That avoiding thing you do, it's not working out so well, is it? Time to change tactics, don't you think?"
Harry dropped his head into his hands. "You said to talk to her. I talked to her."
"Is that what you kids call it these days?" Charlie teased. "Seriously, Harry. Ginny's relentless. And I don't care if you're the Chosen One or not, you're no match for her tenacity. This game you're playing, you're not going to win, and someone's going to get hurt."
"I don't think anyone is playing anymore. Now when I tell Ginny we can't see each other anymore she just nods and kisses me…" Harry glanced anxiously at Mr. Weasley.
"That sounds like my Ginny," he said.
"Er…yeah," Harry said. "It does, doesn't it? Only this wasn't…this time it wasn't her. It was me." Harry felt the heat in his face. He wished Mr. Weasley wasn't there. He looked down at his shoes. "This was my fault."
"Blame is an ugly rut to fall into," Charlie said.
"Look, son," Mr. Weasley said, "we just want to know that you're going to do right by our Ginny. Be careful with her, if you will. Particularly after what happened to her her first year."
"What happened?" Charlie asked. He looked quizzically between Harry and his father.
With a shiver Harry realized Mr. Weasley was talking about what had happened with the diary, and the Chamber of Secrets. "Oh."
"There was some…it's rather a long story, really," Mr. Weasley said.
"A seventeen year old echo of Voldemort, who inhabited a diary Lucius Malfoy planted on her, cast The Imperius Curse on Ginny and he made her do all sorts of terrible things, including opening the Chamber of Secrets that held a basilisk meant to kill all the less than pure bloods at the school. Then, he kidnapped her and held her prisoner down in the Chamber. He used her as bait to get to me." Harry remembered her lying there in the damp underground chamber, all pale and lifeless. He remembered thinking he was going to have to tell Ron his little sister was dead, that he hadn't been fast enough to save her.
"Well, yes, I reckon that's the shorter version," Mr. Weasley said with a nod.
"I don't get it," Charlie said. "So why is Mum having kittens over Harry and Ginny on the couch? Reckons Harry's put The Imperius Curse on our Ginny, does she?"
"No, no," said Mr. Weasley, and his face went from red to ashy. "It was a terrible time that summer after Ginny's first year. We didn't quite know how best to help her. Dumbledore came by every now and then, he was a good wizard, that one. He truly cared about our little Ginny. He even offered to put her memories in his pensive, so she wouldn't have to carry them around all the time. Molly urged her to do it, but of course she refused. She said they might be important someday, so she'd keep them."
"What memories?" Charlie asked. "Of being under The Imperius Curse? Can one remember that?"
"He was inside her head," Harry said quietly. "It's…horrible. It's terrifying."
"Not just her head," Mr. Weasley muttered. His eyes watered and went puffy.
"What do you mean?" Charlie asked. "Dad? What does that mean?"
"Imagine Voldemort at seventeen," Mr. Weasley said. "He hasn't the legions of Death Eaters at his disposal, just one pretty little eleven year old girl. He's seventeen, and you know how seventeen year old boys are." His gaze on Harry grew dark. "And he's a sadist, and he's got her completely at his mercy. My baby girl. My sweet little Ginny. That monster had her."
"Oh, no," said Charlie. "No. You're not saying what I think you're saying."
"She was just eleven…"
Harry went cold inside.
Charlie's voice went tight. "Voldemort raped Ginny?"
"What?" Ron stood on the stair, his face contorted in horror.
Harry ran. He left the house and ran past the garden and out into the night. His feet pounded the earth and his arms pumped and his lungs fought for air. It didn't matter that he didn't have any shoes on, or that the air was warm and muggy and it made him cough. When he reached the orchard he doubled over with his hands on his knees and coughed until he retched, and then he ran again. Sweat poured down his face, down his chest. His lungs felt like they had needles in them. His head pounded. When he reached the end of the orchard he kept going. He felt the magical boundary break around him. He was in the Muggle world. It didn't matter.
Harry ran until he became too dizzy, and he had to drop to his knees, and then his back. He stared up at the blurry stars and realized he was crying. And then his chin quivered and the sobs started. He threw off his glasses and dropped an arm over his face. He was in a field somewhere. No one could see him.
And now that he was stopped and was gasping for air and crying like a little girl, Harry couldn't stop his guilt. He hadn't been fast enough. For five years Harry had thought he'd saved Ginny, that he'd reached her in time, when the truth was he hadn't saved her at all. Tom Riddle had taken her. He'd had her.
And Harry had abandoned her afterwards. It was bad enough when he thought he left her to deal with having her head invaded by that monster – and in a sick sort of way Harry had felt a kinship to Ginny. He'd been glad for that kind of connection to someone else, even though it meant she'd had to suffer the way he had, because at least someone knew, and he hadn't felt quite so alone. But she'd suffered more, so much more. And he'd abandoned her after she'd been…he couldn't even think the word.
Oh, Ginny. His sweet, strong, lovely Ginny who could fight like warrior and kiss like a siren. Why hadn't she told him? He was only too glad not to have known. He wished he didn't know now, and that in itself was another betrayal. Harry of all people should know. He should feel the guilt of not getting down to the Chamber of Secrets sooner to rescue her. And he should mourn what had been taken from her. She's only been eleven.
Harry sat up and wiped his face. He forced himself off the ground and pushed his shoulder back, took a deep breath and made a solemn promise to the stars above. Something inside him turned hard as stone. Harry knew regardless of prophecy he would kill Voldemort, even if it was the last thing he ever did.
Once he'd collected himself, Harry walked slowly back to the Burrow to give himself time think of something to say to her. What could he possibly say? It wasn't like it had just happened; for her it was years ago. Did she still think about it? Of course, Harry decided. She must. Did she think about it when she was with him? When he was touching her? Kissing her?
The thought made him shudder, and he felt his stomach twinge. If she hadn't told him, maybe she didn't want him to know. Maybe with what they already shared she wanted to keep this part secret. Ginny was good at secrets. Maybe she was afraid Harry would tell Ron and Hermione. Maybe she didn't trust him.
Harry stepped back through the protective magical barrier around the Burrow, and took a deep breath. He'd failed her. He hadn't protected her when she needed him the most. He hadn't saved her in time. And then he'd abandoned her. Realization settled through him like a cold wave that he'd done it again this evening. He'd run, not to her, but as far away as his legs could carry him – he glanced back over his shoulder – which wasn't very bloody far. But he'd run when he should've gone to her. He'd fled when he should've protected. Ginny was right, he was a coward.
Harry shook his head. He would not fail her again. He would protect her, guard her. If she was in harm's way because of him, he would stand between her and danger. She would never, never again be alone.
The lights were all on at the Burrow, and from the garden it looked like it had on any given night. There were no shouts, no loud weeping, nothing to give away the secret that had been told. From where he stood the house looked calm and peaceful, and with the warm glow in the windows, even happy. Ron would be angry – furious even – not just because of what had happened to his only sister, as if that weren't enough, but also because he hadn't been told. How would Charlie react? Harry wasn't sure he knew him well enough to know. He'd probably be angry as well, but for Ginny, not himself. He'd probably grieve, as Mr. Weasley obviously still did.
No wonder Mrs. Weasley had been so upset to find Harry on top of Ginny in an obviously compromised position. It all made sense now. In her eyes that instant had transformed Harry into that boy, who had stolen her daughter's innocence at such a young age. Mrs. Weasley had trusted Harry with Ginny, and he'd betrayed her as well.
He startled out of his self-loathing to see Hermione stalk out of the house like a witch on a mission. She walked straight for him. He'd just left the orchard on his way back to the house. How did she know where he was? Or, was she, like him, just trying to escape? He didn't stop, but met her in the middle of the field the Weasleys called a yard, and she stepped straight into his arms. She hugged him tight, buried her head in his shoulder.
"Oh, Harry," she whimpered. She knew.
"Where is she?" he asked.
She sniffled a little, and pulled away. "Upstairs. Mrs. Weasley gave her a draught. She was beside herself when Ron started yelling about it. She didn't want him to know."
"She didn't want me to know," Harry corrected.
"Any of us," Hermione agreed. "She said we'd all look at her different, and Harry she was right. I couldn't stop staring at her. Oh, Harry! I just want to hex something!"
"I know."
She threw herself at him again, and he rested his chin on her shoulder. Harry was grateful for her. It was good to have a girl for a best mate. As great as Ron was, Harry could never do this with him, and sometimes a bloke just needed a hug from a good friend.
"Harry," Hermione whispered. "We can't leave now."
"We're not," he said into her hair.
"I mean you, too. Harry, we need to go back to Hogwarts, even if it's not for the whole year. We need the library there, and a strong plan of attack. Once we know where the Horcruxes are, or even where to find Godric's Hollow, we'll go. I promise. But now…it just doesn't make any sense…and to leave Ginny…how can we leave Ginny now?"
"We can't," he said.
"She'll be fine, I'm sure. She's Ginny. But you didn't see Ron's face. He was so angry for Ginny, and hurt, but there was more there, Harry. It was like something inside of him broke open. I've never seen him like that. It scared me. He yelled at his dad, and Mr. Weasley didn't react. It was horrible. His mum thought to give Ron a draught, too, but he refused to drink it."
"No, he wouldn't drink it. Neither would you."
Hermione gave him a curious look. "And Ginny would? What does that mean?"
"It means she didn't really drink it, either." He looked up at her darkened window. If something were to happen, something unexpected, Ginny of all people would want to be wide awake and ready for a fight. "I need to talk to her." He wanted to hold her tight.
"Harry…" Hermione's eyes looked black in the dark, and her tears and the moonlight made them sparkle. "Hogwarts," she said simply.
He didn't know if staying would place Ginny in any more danger than she already was, but he did know that he couldn't protect her if he left. Of course, he had been there at Hogwarts when Tom Riddle had taken her. It would be different this time. "I can't fail her," he said. "Not again."
"Please, Harry," Hermione whispered. "Say we'll go to Hogwarts. At least until we have something more to go on."
Harry closed his eyes and nodded.
The double CRACK of two people Apparating near the Burrow's door startled them apart. Harry immediately drew his wand, and Hermione followed his lead. It was dark, but Harry would've known Tonks' muscular legs and wild, spiky hair anywhere. It must be time for the Order meeting.
"Wotcher, Harry," she said. "And Hermione. What are you two doing out here in the dark?"
"Out for a stroll," Harry said. There was an annoyed snort behind Tonks, and Harry realized the other figure was Charlie's hypothetical, standing with her arms tightly crossed. She stepped up next to Tonks.
It was odd to know so much about this stranger, like she was a storybook character come to life. Harry wondered if this was what it was like for other people when they met him – if they looked at him, and felt that the boy didn't quite measure up to the legend. It was clear that's what she thought of him.
Charlie had called her stunning, but Harry didn't agree. He supposed she was pretty, as all women who didn't have huge boils or terrible disfigurements were. She had two eyes and a straight nose that wasn't overly large, and a full mouth, so yes, she was pretty. Not Ginny pretty, but pretty. Her hair was long and wavy, and dark, and it was tied back with a lace between her shoulders. It looked uneven, as if someone had hacked off different bunches of it with a knife. Had she done that? Her robes were borrowed, of course, and probably from Tonks. They were too short for her, too colorful, even in the dark. They made her expression that much more somber. She wore too much make-up.
Esmerelda looked at the house. "He's here," she said quietly. And again Harry was struck by her flat accent. He didn't often meet wizards from outside of Britain, and he was fairly sure he'd never met an American before.
The woman crossed her arms. "Nym, this was a bad idea. Very bad."
"Ez, it's killing him-"
"Oh, please. Charlie's a big boy, he'll be fine."
"And what about you?"
"What about me? I need clothes and shoes. I do not need Charlie Weasley. Though I could go for a stiff drink-"
"Who do you think you're fooling?"
The woman went quiet. She seemed to deflate. "It's been three years, and I've been fine. He's been fine. We can go another couple years, can't we? If I hadn't portkeyed here we might have gone forever without seeing each other again – and been completely fine. We just need to put some more time between us, and things will get back to normal. Come on. He doesn't even know I'm here, Nym, let's just go. I don't how you talked me into this. It's crazy. What do you think he's going to do? He's still the same wizard, I'm still me, nothing's changed. The very best we can hope for is a painful silence. The worst…fuck, Nym, I can't do that again! I've got to get out of here!"
"Ez," Tonks said, and she grabbed the woman by the shoulders. "Take a breath. It's going to be fine."
"No, no it's…something's wrong." She turned to Hermione. "What's happened? Is it the sister? What's happened?"
"How do you know that?" Hermione asked.
"Just look at him," Esmerelda said, and waved a dismissive hand at Harry. Did he really look that distraught? He certainly felt it.
"What's happened?" Esmerelda pressed, and then her eyes went wide and she spun around to face the house. "Oh, fuck. He knows."
Not even a second later the kitchen door slammed open and Charlie's stout, muscular figure stepped into silhouette. He stood there, frozen.
"Fuck," Esmerelda whispered and Charlie rushed to her. She took a few steps back, but Tonks kept her from more.
"Where have you been?" he asked. It almost came out as a cry. "I've looked for you everywhere."
"Not everywhere," Esmerelda said.
He reached for her, and she immediately shrugged away.
"M-am rătăcic," he said. He took another step and more of the smooth, heavy language poured from his mouth. Harry had never heard it before. Something between Italian and…Russian?
"Nu!" The woman took a step back and thrust out her arm to stop him. "Nu ma atinge!"
"Oh, bloody, bloody hell," said Tonks under her breath. "It's never good when they start that."
"Is it Romanian?" Hermione asked. "She knows Romanian, too?"
"Where do you think he learned it?" Tonks said.
Esmerelda began to raise her voice, and Charlie soon followed.
"All right! Knock it off!" Tonks shouted over them. "English, damn it! When the two of you break into that bloody language it all goes to hell!"
Esmerelda said something under her breath and gave Tonks an angry look.
"She said it's not the language," Charlie translated, with a hint of a smirk. Then he snapped at her with some lyrical sounding words. She snapped right back.
"English!" Tonks yelled, and then to Harry she said: "Damn Gypsy language. Boils their blood."
"It's not Gypsy!" Esmerelda insisted.
"Are you coming to the meeting tonight?" Charlie asked, anxious and hopeful. "Is that why you're here?"
"No," Esmerelda said.
"Yes," said Tonks. "Of course we are. We're Order. We'll be there."
"But why are you here? At the Burrow?" Charlie asked. Tonks made to answer, but Charlie raised a silencing finger at her and she shut her mouth. He looked hard at Esmerelda. "Why are you here?"
"I…" She seemed to get lost in his gaze for a moment. "I don't know. It was a bad idea. You and I both know it-"
"Get out of my head." Charlie screwed his eyes shut.
Esmerelda put a hand to her temple. "You know it doesn't work like that."
"Right." He didn't move, but he opened his eyes. Charlie looked as if he wanted to devour her.
"Please, don't," Ez muttered, though it didn't sound as if her heart was in it.
"What's happening?" Hermione asked. Her eyes darted between Charlie and Esmerelda, both staring at each other as if something was about to explode.
"Charlie-" Tonks warned.
And in the next moment three things happened at once. Mrs. Weasley came trotting out the door, Charlie grabbed Esmerelda's shoulders and kissed the hell out of her. And Percy Weasley Apparated in.
They all went to the Order meeting that night, leaving Ron and Hermione on the couch in the living room, and Harry alone to face Ginny. He climbed the stairs slowly, trying to think of something to say to her. By the time he stood outside her door he'd decided on "Hullo," and he'd see where that took him. He knocked. There was no answer. He tried the knob, and the door gave way easily. He peeked in.
The lights were off, and Ginny sat at the foot of her bed, her knees drawn up to her chin, staring out the open window. The warm breeze brushed the lightest hair around her face. She didn't turn when he shut the door behind him, or when he sat down on Hermione's rollaway bed.
"I can't believe you told them," Ginny said still looking out the window. "I trusted you."
"Told them what?" Harry asked. "Who?" He didn't know what he'd done, but the hurt in her voice cut him to the quick. "Ginny, what-"
"You know what!" She whipped out her wand, and aimed right at Harry's head. "I don't suffer fools gladly. And you, of all people, I trusted you, Harry."
Harry knew she would never threaten if she didn't intend to carry through. His brain went into double time.
"Ginny, it wasn't me."
"Then who?" she demanded. "Dumbledore, you and my parents were the only people who knew. Now everyone knows!"
"I didn't know," he told her, staring at the tip of her wand. "Please believe me."
When she looked at him now her face drawn and pained. "What? How could you not have known? You were there. You're lying. I never thought you'd lie to me."
"I have never lied to you, Ginny. I would never, ever lie to you. And I swear, I didn't tell your secret. I couldn't have, but even if I'd known, I wouldn't have."
Her brows knitted. "But you were there," she insisted.
"Where? In the Chamber? Is that where…?" He shook his head, closed his eyes. He hadn't been fast enough. If he hadn't gone for Lockhart first, would he have made it in time? "It happened in the Chamber. Oh, Gin, I'm so sorry."
"You knew! You had to have known! You found me down there. You saw my uniform ripped, the bruises. You were there!"
"I didn't know, Ginny." Had he seen those things? He remembered her lying there on the wet ground, and how cold her hand had been, and how still she was. He had been frightened that she wasn't breathing, and that he'd have to be the one to tell Ron his sister was dead. Had there been bruises? Was her uniform ripped? "I'm sorry, but that's not how I remember it."
"Not how you remember it? Could you not see? Dumbledore took one look at me and he knew! And he wasn't even down there. He didn't know me like you did!"
"He was Dumbledore," Harry said simply. Dumbledore always knew. "And it was second year. And I thought I was going to die. There was a lot going on. I honestly didn't see…I wish I had. Ginny, I'm sorry." He'd failed her over and over.
It was as if a Shield Charm had been cast; there was suddenly a barrier between them. Her eyes went dull, her wand hand dropped to her side, and she looked back out the window.
"Ginny," he said quickly, "I was twelve and there was a giant snake-"
"I don't want to talk about it any more," she said.
"Don't shut me out," Harry said. "I'm sorry I didn't get to you sooner, in the Chamber. I'm sorry it happened at all. If I'd steered clear of your family, back at the beginning then-"
"Harry, stop."
He fell silent. He wasn't helping her, and he was worried he was just making things worse. "Do you want me to leave?" When her head whipped around he realized how it had sounded. "I meant your room."
"Oh. No. Unless you want to."
"No," he said, and sat on the rollaway bed.
"Earlier," Ginny said, as she stared out the window again, "Hermione asked if I was so upset because now you knew what had happened, and was I afraid you wouldn't want me anymore. I hadn't really considered it, because obviously I thought you knew, and you kissed me anyway. But, if you didn't know…"
"Nothing I've learned tonight has changed the way I feel about you."
She gave a sad chuckle. "The way you feel about me," she echoed. "Not exactly an admission of love, is it?" Then she sighed. "No matter. I've got something more to tell you, and after that you'll not be able to get far enough away from me."
"It's not possible," he said, and still he found himself nervous. What more could there be?
"You've been a loyal friend to me, Harry, right from the start. But I wasn't to you. I betrayed you." She sighed deeply, licked her lips. Her eyes carefully avoided him. "I wrote about you in the diary. In Tom Riddle's diary. I told him things. I told him all about you. When he asked me questions I thought he was just being friendly. And there was no one else I could talk to. At least with him - who could he tell? I told myself it was like having a close friend who was completely safe to lament my unrequited love to. And he seemed to really care."
"But…you'd only known me for a year, and not so well. What could you possibly have told him? You didn't betray me, Ginny."
"I did! You and Hermione and Colin and Penny. And Mrs. Norris and Nearly Headless Nick."
"The basilisk got them," Harry said. "A basilisk that was controlled by Tom Riddle."
"You don't know how a basilisk is called?"
He knew. Hermione had explained it to him. "By the blood of a virgin," Harry said.
"By the blood of virginity," Ginny corrected. "It's a slight grammatical change, but a there's a very big difference. He didn't just need some of my blood; he needed it obtained in a very particular way. If I'd fought harder, if I'd escaped, then he never would've been able to call that bloody snake, and no one would've been hurt."
"You can't be serious. You were eleven! He was seventeen! He was bigger than the both of us put together! How could you have fought that?"
"You did," she said, and there was a hollowness in her voice. "And you won."
"That was luck. And Fawkes! Remember, he brought the sword."
Ginny shook her head. "It doesn't matter how you did it, you did. And you weren't that much older than me, just a year. If I had escaped, or stopped writing in that bloody diary, or not even opened it at all, then none of that would've happened."
"You were Imperiused, kidnapped and tortured. You can't possibly believe it was your fault," Harry said, though it was clear from her stricken expression that she did. He went to her, sat on her bed, and wrapped his arms around her in an awkward embrace. Her knees were still up between them, but she laid her head on his shoulder.
"There is only one wizard we can blame for what happened that year, and that's Voldemort."
"It was a long time ago," she told him. "And now it's all back, like it happened last week, and it's like it was before. Oh, Harry, how could you not have known?"
She shifted out of his hug, and crossed her arms tightly around herself. "It was bad while it was happening. The first time I thought I would die – I wanted to die. I thought everyone could tell what had happened to me. Then, after the second time-"
"Second?" Harry gasped. "How…how many times?"
She screwed her eyes closed. "Four."
It was as if all the air was sucked out of the room. Harry didn't know what to say, he just sat there, his mouth open, horrified at what she'd just revealed. Four times? "But after the first it wouldn't have…blood of virginity, you said."
"He liked it," she said quietly. "He liked it when I cried. I tried to throw the diary away, but it kept coming back to me. And every time he'd release the basilisk and he'd wait until I was alone in the dormitory, and he'd force me…I couldn't fight him – I tried, but he was so big…and…and no one knew…"
And she was eleven.
Harry didn't think he could handle much more, but he wasn't about to stop her if she needed to tell him what had happened. He should be the one to carry the burden with her. She'd thought he carried it all along.
With a haunted look, and her eyes glued to the floor, she asked, "Do you think that we could talk about something else? Anything else?"
"Anything you want," he said.
"Will you lie with me?" she asked. "Just…not touching?"
Harry turned on his side, pressed his back against the wall to leave a space for her on the narrow bed. She stretched out beside him, facing him, so close he could feel the warmth of her breath. She closed her eyes.
"Say something," she whispered.
What could she possibly want to hear? Something about other people, he guessed. Something easy. He told her the first thing that came to mind. "Esmerelda came to the Burrow tonight. Charlie kissed her."
Ginny's eyes snapped open. "Oh my stars. Please tell me someone saw that besides you."
"Hermione was there," Harry happily complied. "And your mum walked out and saw them."
Ginny smiled. It was small, but it was definitely there. "Did she have kittens? She's been needling him about finding a girl ever since he got here."
"Well, she might've done, except Percy turned up."
Ginny pushed herself up to sitting. "No! My stars!"
"Wait, it gets better. Percy knows Esmerelda."
"He knows Charlie's girl? But…didn't Ron say that Charlie met her in Romania?"
"I think Dumbledore introduced them here, and they went to Romania together," Harry told her. "But that doesn't explain how Percy knows her, or why he came to the Burrow after her."
"He came after her?" Ginny said. "You're sure?"
"Well, Percy did call her name, and then she sort of pushed herself away from Charlie-"
"Wait, what kind of kiss was it?"
"It was a proper snog. He had his hands on her bum," Harry said.
"No!" said Ginny, a wide smile now spreading across her face. "Where were her hands?"
"I don't remember," Harry said. "You're missing the point. Percy called her name and she pushed away from Charlie as if she just realized what she was doing, and she saw Percy standing there, and then looked back at Charlie and said, 'Fuck me.' Then she Disapparated, and Percy right after her."
"Fuck me?"
"Her words."
"Didn't Percy say anything to Mum?"
"Not a word," Harry told her. "And then Charlie shouted at Tonks, demanding to know where they went and how Percy knows Esmerelda and if they were seeing each other, which seemed to make him a bit shaky."
"The thought of Percy dating anyone makes me a little shaky," Ginny quipped. "What did Percy do when he saw her snogging Charlie?"
"Nothing really, beyond calling her name. He didn't look particularly surprised or angry, if that's what you mean, but he didn't look thrilled, either." Harry thought back, and tried to remember if Tonks had been surprised at the snog, and decided he hadn't bothered to look at Tonks at that particular moment.
"So, how does Percy know Esmerelda, then?" Ginny asked.
"Dunno," Harry said. "Tonks just said they were friends."
"Percy has friends?" Ginny asked. "That prat?" She lay back down, and pillowed her head on her arm. The life was back in her eyes, and Harry felt the familiar twist in his chest. He loved her; he no longer had any doubt. It might feel different than Ron's love for Hermione, but Harry was certain it was love just the same. "Then what happened?"
"Not so much, really. Charlie yelled some – he's scary when he gets mad," Harry admitted. "I was running through Shield Spells in my head, just in case."
"He's always been like that," Ginny said dismissively. "Nothing ever comes of it."
"I'm just glad he's happy and smiling most of the time."
"Enough about Charlie," said Ginny. "What did Mum do?"
"After Tonks left, Charlie stood there for a moment, and then he started swearing, and your mum turned and went back inside. She didn't really do anything."
Ginny sighed. "She was probably rankled that Percy didn't even say hello."
Harry nodded. "Then your parents came out, and they all left for Headquarters. And I came up to see you."
"That was a brilliant story," Ginny said. "Tell it again. Only this time more about how Percy's a prat."
Harry grinned. He was only too happy to comply.
