Ch. 12 "Who has the byline, Harry?"

"Ginny!" he bellowed again.

I'm sure he's now in the lounge or the kitchen. It won't be too much longer.

The book in my lap wasn't the distraction I hoped it would be. The words on the pages along with the moving images swirled, and it was not distracting enough. My study is the first room on the floor, and the smallest room in the house. I had intentionally turned the recliner away from the door, just to annoy him further. Merlin knows that those eyes of his can get me to do just about anything.

I heard his heavy footsteps coming up the stairwell. I honestly wonder how he passed stealth training at the academy.

Sure enough, the door opened with the tell-tale creak of the hinges. You'd think I'd oil the blasted things, but something about that noise makes sense. Instead, there was a second squeak, and then the obvious squish of Harry locking the room. Two clunks told me he'd toed off his kicked off his boots too.

"Ginny, we really need to talk."

"Sod off Potter."

"No, damn it. I'm sick of you running away from me. We're not leaving here 'til this is settled."

"Sure hope you ate then because I have nothing to say to you."

"That's obvious, since you have run away from me since that night at the Ministry."

"It was either leave, or say something I'd regret. Now sod off you jealous fuck. When I'm ready, I'll find you."

I turned back to my book with the intention of avoiding those emerald eyes the rest of the day and as much of the night as I could. Hell, I intended to sleep either here or in a guest bed somewhere in the house. I certainly wasn't ready to be near him.

"Ginny –"

"Don't worry your precious little head." I knew there was venom dripping from my voice but I didn't give an arse at this point. "Mum already took your side in all of this mess. She already blames me for the bad press, and for putting any sort of worry in your head."

Before he could say anything else there was an owl at the window.

"What the hell?" Harry said quietly. Neither one of us recognized the owl.

Harry opened the window and the owl hopped into the room, landing on my desk. He stuck his leg out, showing the parchment. "Sorry, boy, but I don't have anything to give you to nibble on in here."

The owl hooted in perceived disdain before flying out the window.

"That should be a copy of the Prophet detailing the mess that we're in, right on the front page."

I watched him roll out the front page of the newspaper and his eyes grew wider from reading the glaring headline.

Quidditch Icon and Scion of the Wizarding World – Trouble brewing? he said quietly.

I scowled. "Maybe next time you'll use your head instead of thinking with your bollocks." I said scathingly. "Well, Harry dear, go on. Who has the byline?" I didn't bother to keep the growl out of my voice.

Silence filled the room. I knew I was right and called him on it. "I bet you twenty galleons that it's that scavenging strumpet Romilda Vane."

Harry turned from red onto aubergine purple. "How'd you know that?" I barely heard him say.

"I saw her earlier in the evening acting like a trollop at the bar, looking for you. Now, fifty galleons say that there is a parchment attached to the paper from Vane asking for an interview from you, probably later today or tomorrow morning so it can make the Sunday edition."

He looked down, and another piece of parchment had fallen to the floor. Sure enough, her hideous scrawl was on there, along with an appearance of lip marks under her signature. I could tell he turned slightly green at that obvious attempt.

"Merlin! She's been chasing after you for your fame since we were children. She holds a grudge against me that you picked me and not her."

He looked down at me, and I made him wish he hadn't. He flinched when he saw how pissed off I was, grasping my wand in a blazing fury. I think he only realized then how stupid he had been, and how easily manipulated.

"Why didn't you say anything?" he whispered.

"Oh, right? You've been gone a week on a mission, and you didn't even say goodbye the morning you left. You talked with Malfoy for half an hour before you had your Portkey, and you didn't owl or send anything. When the bloody hell was I supposed to tell you what was going on, when I didn't know five minutes before that poncy-robed git grabbed my arm and demanded we talk privately."

"But – "

"I'm not finished, Potter, so shut it!"

Harry stood there, frozen in place. It wasn't my words that froze him, but my bouncing wand that was shooting out magenta sparks from the tip. I didn't realize that I was losing control of my magic. I hadn't showed unbridled magic in almost a decade, not since Riddle fucked with my head.

I put it down on the table just so I wouldn't be tempted to use it again.

"Now, when could I have told you? Oh right. You weren't there last night. You didn't bother to say a thing to anyone about returning two nights early, did you? Not even Shacklebolt knew you were returning early. I know because I cornered him before the party really got underway. He told me he knew nothing of how you were doing. So yea, how could I warn you? But since you didn't bother, let me ask – why the hell didn't you ask Hermione what was going on? You claim she's your sister, but you sure as fuck don't act like it sometimes."

"She was with Kingsley, but more than one person –"

"Did it ever occur to you that we were having a private conversation about you? No, you immediately jump to thinking that I am a slag and that I couldn't wait a week for you to come home and shag me stupid?" I realized I was yelling but couldn't be arsed. "Hell, had you taken two bloody seconds and asked your sister what was going on, none of this would have happened. Instead, you listened to harlots and strumpets who would love nothing more than to get their claws into you, trying to get you into their bed for a romp and a leg over, hurting me and hurting you. They'd profit if they could sell their story above the fold, or get a perverse thrill if they could claim you got them pregnant."

I took a deep breath before continuing.

"You assumed that I would pick the most revolting and pathetic excuse for a man in the whole damn building for a quick lay while you're gone. Why would I do that where every Ministry gossip in the Wizarding world was present? Are you so far around the twist?" I jumped out of the recliner, threw the book across the room, put my hands on his chest and shoved him into the door. "Answer me, damn it!"

"No." he responded quietly.

"For being an Auror, you're pretty fucking stupid. Did you bother to ask your sister why we walked away from the party, huh? Did you bother to take three bloody seconds to ask what's going on? I thought your Auror training taught you to research, recon, and approach with caution. Obviously you failed that lesson in spades. Did you bother to get through your daft skull that the reason we walked out together was so he could apologize for being a bastard? The fuckwit finally found some bollocks and tried to apologize and have a truce with me and here you come in and cock things up."

I threw my hands up, wanting to smash them through a window instead of his face. "It's not like Malfoy was going to publically humiliate himself in front of polite Wizarding society. Would you do that? Hell no, 'course not. You can't even apologize to me privately when you fuck up. What makes you think he's any less prickly than you are, especially around others?"

I finally had enough of being confined in the room, and wanted to leave before my temper consumed me. I wanted to walk away, but he sealed that option. Damn consequences. He had to force the issue before I was ready.

I stood up on my toes, dropping my voice to a hiss. "Did you ever engage your brain for one second, and ask me, the one who loves you more than her own life, what business we were discussing down in the sports office?" My voice went another octave higher. "Or did you automatically assume the worst of me, and let your mouth run amuck? Are you so damn jealous that you have to try and control me? Merlin, you're as bad as the rest of my bleeding family!"

He stood there gobsmacked.

"The last man who tried to control me was the one you disposed of two and a half years ago – the same one who haunted my memories until the first night we made love. Let me refresh your memory with my recurring nightmare. Last time I checked, he manipulated me, fucked me over, did one hell of a mindfuck on me and tried to suck the life out of me. You impaled that sadistic bastard and destroyed him." I felt my face flushing and my temper rising even higher than I thought possible. "So what makes you think that you can control me? Where did you get the bright idea that you could control me, control my life?"

"No. I didn't think."

"Obviously. But now we have a bigger problem."

He stared, green eyes looking confused. "What?"

"You don't respect me and you sure as hell don't trust me. That is a huge problem Potter."

I turned and walked back to the desk, putting my hands on the cool wood. It was my effort to keep from beating the stupid out of him. It was also so I could look at the ring on my finger. I take that back. It's his ring. It's Lily's ring, even if he gave it to me as my engagement ring.

My chest was heaving and I knew I was about to fall apart. I could do it on my feet or on my knees. Rather immolate than crumble. "Why did you propose to me if I mean so little to you? Why do you want me in your life if I mean nothing to you? I should give this back to you if you think so poorly of me."

I heard his breathing hitch. I knew I hurt him terribly with that accusation. In for a knut and all that rubbish. "I can't marry a man who doesn't trust or respect me. I certainly won't stay with a man who thinks so little of me." I choked on the last words because they hurt me more than him.

"That's not true. You're my reason for being here." He retorted. "I don't want to control you, and I do trust you and respect you. I need you."

I couldn't collapse into a pile of rubbish, not yet. This was one fight I had to win.

"Some way of showing it, Potter. You say you trust and respect me, and act like it around the family but the way you act away from them show me that you think of me as a harlot, a one knut whore offering knobjobs to pay the rent. That's a huge fucking problem, Potter."

The window outside would be a respite from the fight. I needed something else to look at while I turned away from him since I was losing my own emotional battle. I needed my anger burning hot.

He stepped up to me, but all I saw was his sock covered toes. "I was wrong when I said that," he whispered.

I turned away from him, stalking back to my desk. He followed me in those black cotton stocking feet.

"No, I think that you were being honest with yourself. It's not me that you don't trust, but yourself. You are still so fragile that you think that the moment your back is turned, I'm going to betray you. Well, you're so damn wrong it's not funny."

I walked to the door, softly beating my head against the old mahogany door. That didn't work either. I turned back around, and stalked back to him. His Auror training taught him nothing when it came to dealing with a raging fiancée.

"Have I ever shown you anything but trust and consideration and friendship and loyalty? As long as you've known me, have I ever betrayed you? I shoved him hard once again into the wall, putting a finger in his face. "How often have you fought and I've had your back?" I hated I was an inch from his face and screaming at him. My voice sounded shrill like Hermione. It was scary.

Harry looked down at me with his red rimmed eyes and I saw what my terrible words, shrill enough to sprout horns, did to that beautiful and broken man.

"How many times have I said that you are the only ever wanted?" I took a deep breath so I could try and lower my voice. "How many times have I showed you that you are my life? What is it going to take to convince you, once and for all, that there is not another man out there who turns my head, burns my soul, and twists my knickers? It's you, Harry James Potter. No other! Whom else out there in this world am I willing to die for? No one! Do you hear me? No one!"

My temper broke and I melted into a heap upon the floor in front of him.

"Why would you die for me?" He knelt down in front of me. "I already did that for you."

I flinched. I was gobsmacked, like he had slapped me and I recoiled in revulsion.

"Have you lost your bleeding mind? Don't you remember that early morning, when Neville and I talked in the common room? Don't you remember what we went through while at that asylum called Hogwarts?"

"Vaguely," he whispered again. "I remember they hurt you. I don't remember much else."

I handed him my hands, sharing with him see the shackle marks that still marred my wrists from those days of detention at school. I knew he would be upset to see them – and he was. He inhaled deeply, recounting my telling of how I earned those scars. He still gets upset while paying loving attention to every scar on my body, from the lashes on my hips to the ones still on my soul.

"Don't you remember that night the four of us were here, a Sunday night after my birthday party, sitting in the lounge getting pissed on wine talking the night away? You told us everything about your walk into the forest."

Harry knelt there, searching his mind. "Honestly, no. It's been a while. Wasn't I drunk on something that night?"

"You were, but I thought you might have remembered." I scrubbed my face trying to hide the tears threatening to erupt. Damn that man for making me cry again. "You told us about seeing your parents, and Sirius, and Remus. Hermione and I were bawling at that point. You told us everything, up to the point of beating that monster Riddle. In return, three of us talked about what happened when you were rushing to get into the Great Hall."

Two and a half years, and I still get choked up thinking about that day. "I thought you were dead. When I saw that witch stalk into the room, like a Queen looking at dirty Muggles, glaring at Luna and Hermione, I had to join in. Fred was dead, and so were you. So when Hermione started blasting away at her with bluebell flames, I didn't care if she killed me, as long as I helped kill her. They killed you and I wanted vengeance. I had nothing to live for, except trying to kill her. Death at that point was most welcome."

Damn that man for making me relive that day. All I could see was Harry lying at that monster's feet. In that moment I had absolutely nothing worth living for – only dying for.

I put my head in my hands and wept. Tears filtered through my fingers. I was close to hyperventilating.

I felt the couch shift under my hips. I heard Luna stifling her crying too. I knew that sound all too well. "Come here," she whispered. I've not needed her comfort in years but retelling her everything brought every last emotion back. I felt a second set of arms around my back, whispering soft words of comfort for both our ears.

Years had passed since the horror in our lives yet the scars still felt fresh. These were the sisters I needed when I was growing up. These were the sisters I would have for a lifetime now.

I pulled back from their hug and wiped my face. "Merlin, I'm sure I look a mess. And crying over that blasted man yet again."

"You sure he's worth crying over?

"I certainly think so."

I sat back and looked at the two of them. They are so different and yet so much the same. I was fortunate, having such wonderful women who love me.

"I still have to finish telling the story."

Hermione handed me a fresh cup of tea. I took a sip and finally caught my breath.

Once I was down on the floor weeping I heard a quiet voice inside my head. Is Harry worth fighting for?

I realized Hermione was right. Bloody Hell! You have a choice: to keep fighting for what you believe in or walk away. Was it worth the pain, dealing with someone else's stupidity? What was I going to choose? Am I willing to stand up to him, and stand up for him? Was it worth the effort and pain to make him a better man? Is my love enough for him?

I chose such, for better or worse. I made that choice the day he killed Riddle. I need to get past my fear of loving him completely. I need to be his best friend and his even better lover. I just needed to be strong enough for this battered and beleaguered man.

When I made that choice, the monster in my own heart settled down. I knew it was the right one.

I looked up, watching Harry look at me. He looked bereft.

"You didn't realize that, did you?"

"No, I didn't know you had –"

I got onto my knees, looking right in his bloodshot eyes. "Shhhh. That was then." I laid a finger across his chapped lips. "But what I did still stands. I was willing to die to be with you again. There is no other man that is worth me, and you better remember it," I snarled. "I waited for you, Potter, and I will be damned if I let that trollop of Vane manipulate you – and me – into breaking us apart. I will, once and for all, put your irrational jealousies to rest."

"But what about –"

"You let me worry about that. I will deal with that shortly. Today, I am going to show you how much you are loved and appreciated." I stood up and stepped back from him, watching the emotional roller coaster cross his face. "Stand up," I whispered. I watched him gingerly get to his feet. "Hand me your wand." I put my other hand out, waiting for him to hand it over. He did grudgingly. I waved my hand. Sure enough, the door unsealed, and opened a second later. I took his clammy calloused hand in my own, and walked onto the landing.

"Kreacher."

The wizened elf showed up a second later, dashingly dressed in his miniature trousers, cravat, and hat. "Mistress Ginevra. How may I help this afternoon?"

I got down on my haunches so I could look at the diminutive elf, face to face. Hermione taught me well. I'm the only one that Kreacher has been kind to by choice. We appreciate seeing one another, eye to eye, even if Ron thinks I am barmy.

"Master Harry and I have much to discuss and don't wish to be disturbed this weekend. We will not entertain visitors for any reason until Monday morning. Master Ron and Mistress Hermione may come calling later today. They are not allowed up the stairs if they arrive, but if and when they ask, please inform them how we are doing. Finally, all owl post is to be left in the drawing room."

"I understand, Mistress Ginevra. As mistress wishes."

"We will need your services as well but we will try not to abuse your time."

"It's hardly abuse, Mistress," said the wizened elf. "Kreacher remembers abuse, and Kreacher appreciates your care and treatment. I am happy to be employed at the Noble House of Potter."

I kissed him on his wrinkled forehead and he cracked out.

I stood up and walked back to Harry behind me. He hadn't moved an inch. I held my hands out to him, waiting for him to take them. He put his hands in mine and I squeezed them in response.

Ron wasn't the only one in the family who got tutoring from their older brothers. I listened at doors and remembered what was said. I stole into their rooms and looked at the Wicked Witch magazines, read the articles that made me blush as a child or gave too many ideas when I was dating others. I paid attention when the older girls in the dorm were talking about their dalliances, or those boring hours in the hotels for our Quidditch road trips. I can't decide who educated me more, those discussions in the locker room or from the stolen moments with my older brother's magazines.

I certainly learned nothing from my family, at least not willingly.

Once Harry killed that snake bastard – and I threw out the tormenting voice in my head, I told myself I will do anything he asks. I trust him completely. The power he holds over me is amazing, all because of those eyes, darkening from emerald to forest green. Harry is the only one who I will surrender for, who gets to do anything to me, and for me. Mum might have borne seven kids but I've done things for him that would make Mum blush – or Fred proud. There's nothing I won't do for my hero. My life is his and has been since he slayed Riddle.

I trust him. I just have to convince him to trust me the same way.

"Let's go upstairs," I whispered in his ear.

Poor Harry looked so confused but I knew what needed to happen. Up the stairs we went, pulling him with me into our bedroom. Once he was inside I used his wand to seal the door.

Ginny looked into the fireplace, watching the flames dance on the logs. The wood smoke was a comfort in the occasionally drafty house. She was lost almost immediately to the conversation she was giving.

Luna looked across the room to Hermione who gave her a pensive look and a shrug. "We knew they were upstairs because we herd them viciously rowing for quite a while. Ron and I bicker well enough but that was way worse than anything we had."

"I think I've only had that one time and that was while it was when you were gone. The Carrows were rather stupid people. Then again when they couldn't argue the merit they inflicted pain. Stupid people really." Luna said quietly. "They are both so passionate and headstrong – more so that you and Ron are. They are meant for one another, if they can find a middle ground."

"You would know better than I would. Those two that afternoon, I honestly expected one of them to come downstairs covered in blood or curse damage. It was that terrible to hear, at least from down here."

"You heard all of it?"

"They didn't silence the room they were in. It was upsetting to hear. Poor Ron was considerably upset hearing his sister and best friend rowing. He tried to get me to muffle it so he didn't have to hear it. I finally muted the stairwell so we'd only hear if someone got hurt."

"How long were they at it?" Luna looked over to the redhead at the end of the couch. Ginny was still off in her own little world.

"We sent Kreacher up to check on them a couple of hours later, when the noise from the floor ceased. He reported back to us and was rather embarrassed. We knew then we were in for a wait."

Hermione got up from the recliner. "Want to join me in the kitchen? I'll make sandwiches and a fresh pot of tea for us. You know she'll be quiet like this for a while."

"Sure, that'll be fine."

The other two girls left the redhead lost in her thoughts and memories. Her mind drifted to that weekend, recalling the sensations and pleasure that she derived from their solitude.