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Chapter Twenty-One: If No One Hears a Prophecy, Does It Still Count?

Cars started driving off the ferry onto the port at Le Havre. No one noticed the rat that scrambled down the edge of the ramp as the cars drove through the terminal gates into the massive port area of the city. The rat found a safe spot on the edge of rail and watched the ferry empty its cargo, only to be filled up moments later by cars going the opposite way.

Only when the ferry had backed away did the rat melt into the much larger figure of a human. He wore clothes of rough cotton weave striped black and white. However, with a flick of his wand the stripes disappeared and he was suddenly dressed in non-descript slacks and shirt.

Peter Pettigrew lifted his head and sniffed at the air. "I'm coming, my lord," he whispered, before he disappeared with a crack.

Harry snatched the snitch right out of Cho Chang's hand. "I hate you, Harry!" she screamed at him.

Harry grinned as a witty retort came from Ginny's mind through his mouth. "You're beautiful when you're angry, Cho!"

"Do you like the bra, Harry?"

"That's a trick question, right?"

Ginny grinned nervously as she put it on behind her changing screen. She could feel Harry blocking their connection long enough for her to do this in private. Finally she slipped her shirt on over it and stepped back out.

He grinned at her. "You look fine." See?

She saw herself then through his eyes. She needed to comb her hair, she noted critically. However, the bra did little more than give her chest a bit of an angle underneath her shirt and robes. She admitted to being just a little disappointed. She was hoping there would be more.

"You look fine," Harry said again.

"It's uncomfortable."

"I can tell. Glad I don't have to wear one."

"Oh go spit and scratch yourself, you prat," she muttered.

Without saying a word, Harry grabbed the comb off the nightstand and started working on the tangled spot of her hair. "You look beautiful, Ginny. It doesn't matter if you can still see your toes or not.'

She looked into the mirror. "I saw the way you looked at Cho during the game. She has a big chest.'

"She's also a fourth year."

"You think she's beautiful too."

"So? You think Dean Thomas is cute."

"You dreamed about kissing her last night."

Harry shrugged. "I also dreamed about my cousin being transfigured into a female hippopotamus and being raped by a big hippo bull."

Ginny blew a strand of red hair out of her face. "Harry, what if we get older and we don't end up liking each other? How could we ever by happy stuck together like this?"

Harry sat on the bed. "I don't know," he admitted. "Are you mad at me?"

"You stared at Cho's bum almost the whole game, Harry. You don't stare at me like that."

Harry opened his mouth, but realized there was no defense. He really had stared at Cho's bum the entire game. He was only thirteen years old, but he was old enough to start noticing the beautiful girls around him.

Ginny was so close to him that he didn't even really think about her like that. She was a constant presence, like a sister or…

"A sister!" Ginny screeched. She turned around, glaring as she ripped the comb from his fingers. "You sleep with your hand between my breasts and you think of me like a sister?"

"Bloody hell, I can't even think in private any more," Harry muttered.

"How could you think of me like that?"

"How the hell am I supposed to think of you?" Harry finally shouted back. "You are twelve years old! Guess what happens when I think of girls like that, Ginny? You know what happens. And we can't do anything like that. We can't even think it, because we promised your dad. So what am I supposed to do? I can't help what I think, Ginny. And it's not fair of you to hold that against me."

"None of this is fair!" Ginny snarled. She turned and stalked to the door. When it didn't open immediately, she pulled her wand and screamed a basic blasting curse. Her magic flared around her and the door exploded into the stairwell. She disappeared, and in his mind he could feel her savagely shut down the link they shared, a skill they had been cultivating for the past few months.

A moment later a flustered McGonagall ran into the room. "What happened here?"

"Had a fight, I guess," Harry said.

"A fight? This was a battle," McGonagall said as she surveyed the room. "Where is she?"

"She's blocking me off, I don't know where she is," he admitted.

"What did you do?" McGonagall said, automatically assuming it was him.

His shoulders slumped when he realized it was. "I was a boy," he said sadly.

McGonagall rolled her eyes and proceeded to repair the door. She let the newly rebuilt door close behind her as she walked out.

Ginny found her old dorm room empty save for Celena Hardridge. The petite pureblood with the over-developed chest was sitting cross-legged in her bed writing in her diary.

Ginny paused just inside the door and felt her stomach go cold as she remembered another diary.

Celena looked up and smiled. "Why, look who it is! Didn't think I would ever see you here. What's wrong, dear? You look like you've been crying."

"Harry's a prat," Ginny stammered. "I hate him."

"Ginny, all boys are prats. You know that. Come here, tell Auntie Celena all about it."

Ginny walked across the room and climbed into the bed with her friend. "Could you…would you mind putting away the diary?" she asked weakly.

"Of course." Celena put the diary up. "Just making some notes about future prospects. I rather think Cedric Diggory is at the top of the list at the moment. He appears to be a genuinely good chap and a pureblood. Too bad he's dating that harlot Cho."

"Don't get me started about Cho," Ginny said. "Harry stared at her bum the whole game yesterday. He even dreamed about her."

"Really? How do you know?"

"We share dreams sometimes. Er, most times," she muttered. "So imagine how I feel when Cho Chang pops into my head with her two big bongo drums and starts kissing my Harry!"

"But it was your Harry's dream," Celena said.

"He thinks of me like a sister!" Ginny wailed.

"Ohh," Celena said. "That is a hard one. Don't you two sleep topless?"

"Exactly! How could he think of me like that?"

"You know I have a brother, right?"

"Yeah, so? Do you sleep with him?"

"Shush and listen. He slept with a girl when they were fourteen. It was quite the scandal. She got pregnant, because of course they were both too stupid to take precautions, and they ended up having to get married at fifteen. I don't believe they are very happy, but they're stuck together."

"What are you saying?"

"Ginny, we both know some of the Slytherin third years are doing it already. And there was that Hufflepuff girl who just wanted to be a loyal friend, so she'd do anyone in the house who asked before Professor Flitwick got wind of it and she got put on suspension. Maybe Harry is putting you in the sister category to keep from getting either of you in trouble."

"You're giving him too much credit," Ginny said darkly.

"Sweetie, I don't mean to say he's doing that on purpose. He's a thirteen year old boy. He doesn't know what he's doing. He won't know for many years, or so my mother assures me. All he knows is that he promised your dad that you wouldn't mess around. But here you are, sleeping together topless. How does he keep from messing around, Ginny? He's a boy. You're a pretty girl, age notwithstanding. Nice bra, by the way. Did you get it Madam Malkins?"

Ginny nodded. "Mum got some for me over the holidays."

"Self-fitting?"

"Up to a B-cup," Ginny said. "You're already a B-cup, aren't you?"

"Oh yes, but never mind me," Celena said dismissively. "Back to Harry. He is sleeping with a beautiful girl, even touching her in places boys his age never get to touch girls. So how does he keep from missing around with you?"

Ginny felt her tears flowing. "He thinks of me like a sister."

"Exactly. That way he can love you, but still manage to keep his baser self in check. Because there's one thing we all know about Harry. He doesn't…want…to…hurt…you."

"I don't want to be his sister," Ginny wept. "I've never wanted to be his sister. He hurts me every time he looks at another girl."

"He can't help that," Celena said. "Mother told me that men can't help but look. And you know what? We're all young. So what if he goes and snogs someone else? He still has to come back to you every night, and you have to go back to him. Last year you said you thought Dean was cute. Well, maybe if Harry starts chasing Cho you should chase Dean. Live a little. You two aren't really married, not really. You're both young. Try enjoying your life for a change."

"I don't want Dean," Ginny said softly. "I want Harry."

"You have him."

"I don't want him as a brother."

"Ginny." Celena leaned forward until she looked Ginny in the eye. "You can't have him like that. Not yet. Findley swears that having sex so young ruined his life. And I think he's right. You and Harry aren't ready yet, and that's really what you're talking about. If you force him to think of you as a lover, eventually he's going to act like your lover, and you will do something you're not ready for. You two are stuck for life, Ginny. Don't rush into something that will make you both miserable for the rest of your lives!"

Ginny closed her eyes and opened the connection. "Harry's still in our room feeling sorry for himself. He's mad at me."

Celena shrugged. "Deal with it. My parents fight all the time. It's good for you."

"It's hard to fight when we can sense each other's emotions."

"No, it's just more painful," Celena said with a wisdom well beyond her years.

That night after classes Harry and Ginny climbed into bed without saying a word. They lay on their sides with Ginny at Harry's back. She felt the muscles of his shoulders against the soft swells of her breasts and wished she were older.

But she wasn't. She was twelve. Stupid twelve years old. Stupid thirteen-year-old boys who were old enough for morning wood but too young to know what to do with it. Stupid blood bonds that had no right to make the boy she had dreamed of her whole life look at her like a sister.

She didn't even realize she was crying at first. Very slowly, Harry turned around and she saw he was crying too. She wanted so much to talk about it. To express her worry that they weren't going to make it. That they would end up lonely and sad and heart-broken, living in the prison of the other's company. That without him she was so lonely it broke her heart. That she loved him more than she did any of her brothers, but that he didn't love her back like she wanted. Maybe he couldn't.

She wanted to say all this, but she couldn't. All she could do was look into the shadows of his eyes and weep. She scooted closer to him, and she could feel the bulge in his pants. He was crying too—she could feel his grief and confusion and pain. But still he had that bulge. She fought a temptation to reach down and grab him, and tell him in no uncertain terms that she was not his sister.

Celena was right, though. Though she wanted to deny it with all her heart, she knew that if she reached down and touched his sex, then he would do the same to her. The thought was exhilarating and terrifying. But over all, she could see her father's expression, and remembered the promise they made.

She was only twelve. She was not ready for this.

So she turned around, facing away from Harry. She took his hand and pulled it to her chest like always. Eventually the bulge went away, and they finally went to sleep.

In April, Gryffindor played Slytherin. There were no rogue bludgers. No psychotic elves. Just Harry and Draco on their brooms flying after the snitch. There was never any contest, and Gryfindor managed to beat Slytherin by a hundred points to take the Quidditch cup.

The night after the last game, alone in the Divination tower, Sybil Trelawney drank her sherry straight and read one of Lockhart's supposed biographies. Even with the revelation of his deeds, the books were still marvelously entertaining, and he was quite handsome after all.

Suddenly she stiffened. Her eyes went cloudy and her empty glass fell to the floor and shattered. In a deep, roughened voice that was not her own, she said: "It will happen tonight. The Dark Lord lies alone and friendless, abandoned by his followers. His servant has fled the land of his birth. Tonight, before midnight... the servant will rejoin his master. The Dark Lord will rise again with his servant's aid, greater and more terrible than ever he was. Tonight... before midnight... the servant... will rejoin... his master..."

As quickly as it came, the episode ended. "Oh dear," she said. "I seem to have dropped my glass."

No one ever knew the prophecy had occurred.

"And I do have some most excellent news," Dumbledore announced Friday evening early in May. "We have confirmed reports that Peter Pettigrew has fled the country. Austrian authorities spotted him there. For this reason, the Ministry has agreed to remove all dementors from Hogwarts grounds." He turned his glittering eyes on Harry and Ginny. "The timing is most auspicious, since tomorrow marks our last Hogsmead weekend."

"Oh boy," Harry muttered.

Across the table, Hermione eyed the two of them thoughtfully while Ronald shrugged and continued shoveling food into his face. "Are you two going to go?" she asked.

"Sure," Ginny said without excitement. "It'll be fun."

"What's up with you two?" Hermione demanded.

"Nothing," Harry said, picking at his food.

"Are you going, then?" Hermione asked.

"I guess," Ginny said.

Harry sat up. "You should go with Celestina and your other friends," he said. "Have a girl's day out."

"Yeah, maybe I will," Ginny said. She got up and left the table without actually eating anything.

Hermione watched the red-head go. Even Ron watched, a little confused. He then turned to Harry. "That means you and I can go shopping for quidditch supplies!"

"Sure, Ron," Harry said.

"Harry, did you try sending her good thoughts?"

He turned and stared long and hard at Hermione. "Kind of hard to send what I don't have," he said before he too stood and left a mostly untouched plate.

"They'll make up," Ron said dismissively. "It'll be good to get my mate back, though."

Hermione glared. "Ron, sometimes you make me sick."

"What? Why?"

"Exactly my point!" She got up and followed her friends out. Ron looked on in confusion for a moment, shrugged, and then continued eating.

Of course, if Harry had thought about it, he would have known that Celestina and Ginny's other friends were still second years and so could not go to Hogsmead. Instead, Ginny managed to snag Parvati Patil and Hermione.

Harry didn't want to go. Neither he nor Ginny slept well—they held hands and touched legs only that night, and both woke up exhausted and grumpy with each other for the other's stubbornness. But Ginny was going, so Harry decided he had to go, if only to keep Ginny from getting the last word on the matter.

Ron pulled Harry along with Dean and Seamus in a separate carriage, and the boys quickly started talking about quidditch. Everyone knew not to mention Ginny, given the events of the past year, but it was still a very long ride.

Eventually he waved off an attempt to get him into the Three Broomsticks and instead just walked around the village. He knew he was in a funk, and his exhaustion didn't help.

He realized that he absolutely dreaded the coming summer. The idea of having all of the Weasleys around him when he and Ginny were having such problems was frightening. The thought of Molly Weasley looking at him with disapproval for how he was treating her daughter was enough to make his breath catch.

He really wanted to spend the whole summer with Sirius, but he knew he wouldn't be able to do that.

After an hour, he decided there was no point in him wandering around the village and so started to head back to the carriages when he felt a wave of cold. He looked up and saw a shadow pass over his head.

A dementor.

"What is that doing here?" Harry said aloud.

A second later came another shadow, followed by a third, then a forth. The air grew noticeable colder as more and more shadows passed over head, until the whole day seemed to darken. He walked back into the main street of the village and watched as the cloud of dark creatures descended into a side street by Madam Puddlefoot's.

He was about to go get Professor Lupin when he heard a scream. Only, it wasn't a scream that reached his ears. It was in his mind, followed by a stabbing cold sensation in his chest.

The other students were spooked, but evidently never saw the creatures overhead. They stood around in confusion, trying to identify the source of their unease. Harry sprinted past them, running toward the side street.

He turned the corner and froze in terror.

Ginny lay on the ground. Parvati and Hermione were both passed out against the wall of the tea house. In a vortex of living darkness the dementors swirled around Ginny's body. As he watched, he felt the stab of freezing cold in his chest again and a pull on his mind. He saw a flash of green and heard a woman crying out. The world started going dark.

A spark of light rose up out of Ginny's mouth toward the open mouths of the dementors.

The light was her soul. The dementors were killing Ginny. His Ginny.

He started running toward them. The dementors ignored him as the light from Ginny's soul passed into one of them. "No!" he screamed. "She's mine!"

He didn't reach out with his wand or his magic. Instead he reached out with the link he and Ginny had shared since he saved her last year in the Chamber of Secrets. The dementors all started to rise up into the air, save the one that consumed her essence. It stopped as if caught in a trap.

The others paused a little higher, confused.

"You can't have her!" Harry screamed. "You can't!" He reached Ginny's empty body and pulled harder on the link. The dementor jerked down toward him with an inhuman squeal. The other dementors suddenly dove at Harry.

He raised his wand and remembered the morning after the first time he and Ginny slept without their tops. He remembered the sheer joy and freedom they felt with each other. Of the happiness.

He was expecting a silver stag when he screamed out the Patronus charm. That's what his patronus always was when Professor Lupin showed them. However, what emerged was a red-tailed fox, only a huge one that burned with brilliant white light. The light seemed to burn both the dementor in Harry's grip and those trying to attack him. Those who could fled. The one trapped by Harry gave an inhuman scream of pain.

Finally, with a cry himself, Harry pulled on the link with everything he had. The dementor's screams turned into shrieks as it literally exploded in a cloud of black smoke. From the center of the smoke came the sparkling light.

The light came to Harry. It came to him so fast he didn't even have time to blink before it shot into his mouth. He felt heat and power fill him, and Ginny's presence. He looked down and realized that Hermione was awake and kneeling beside Ginny. There were tears in her eyes—Ginny was not breathing. She was pale.

She was dead.

"Never," Harry whispered. He leaned down and placed his lips on hers. He opened his mouth and willed the heat into her body. He felt it pass out of him, and he felt somehow weakened and diminished by its absence—until his link with Ginny snapped back into place. A wave of lethargy swept over him, robbing him even of the strength to sit upright. He literally collapsed over Ginny's body.

Her eyes opened. "Harry," she whispered.

"Hey, Ginny," he said with a weak smile.

"You saved me."

"It's what I do," he said. He was struggling to keep his head up. "We may not always get along, Ginny. And I may look around at other girls. But even if I do that, I still love you."

Ginny tried to sit up, but she was too tired herself. "I love you too, Prat."

"Good."

He closed his eyes, and Ginny closed hers.

Hermione for her part looked up and saw a solid wall of their fellow students watching. They had watched the whole exchange starting from when the first dementor squealed. Only when it was all over did Professor McGonagall rush past them and run to their sides. "Miss Granger, what has happened?"

"Dementors," Hermione said. "Parvati's still out."

"And these two?"

"They kissed Ginny."

McGonagall blanched. "Dear Merlin!"

"Don't worry, Harry got her soul back. Ripped it right out of the dementor. He kissed Ginny and put it back, and now…" Hermione grinned weakly. "Now, I think they're asleep."

Harry and Ginny woke in their own bed two days later. Ginny's brown eyes snapped open and found Harry's green eyes staring right back at her. She was aware of his arm around her hip and his hand against the small of her back, just above the rise of her buttocks. He was aware of her small breasts pressed against his chest, and the way their legs were intertwined.

Ginny felt his arousal and did nothing to stop it or help it. It was simply part of him. "I am not your sister," she whispered. Her voice was hoarse.

I know, he thought back. I've dreamed about you too.

She knew he had—vague, confusing dreams of them pressing against each other. Neither had any concept of what sex really was, but still they dreamed of the motions; of the possibilities.

"I know we're too young," Ginny said. "And I know that you are going to look at other girls."

You can't keep punishing me for my thoughts.

"I am afraid. What if you see a girl you like more than me? What if next year Padma or Parvati or Lavender want to do more than cuddle? Would you love them?"

"I don't know," Harry admitted aloud.

Ginny closed her eyes. She wanted him to profess his undying love to her; to promise they would be together forever and ever. But she also knew he could not lie to her. That he wouldn't lie to her.

She felt moisture gather in her eyes. I want to be your first.

I want that too, Harry said. But I'm starting to think twenty five is too long.

"The age of consent is fourteen for me."

"That's two years away for you," Harry said.

His bulge had not gone down at all. If anything, it was actually harder.

He was thirteen. She was only twelve. She deliberately reached down and placed a hand over the bulge. "We have nowhere else to go," she whispered.

Harry's eyes widened and his breath caught. "I can't promise how I feel," he said. "I can't promise…." He stopped as her fingers gently surrounded the bulge in his shorts. "Ginny…"

"I want to be your first," she said again. "I don't care what you do up to that point. If you want to snog other girls or look at their bums, I promise I won't be mean about it. I won't yell at you for your dreams any more. If you promise me that you won't go all the way. Promise me that I'll be your first, and I'll promise you that I won't try to stop you from being a normal boy."

Her fingers now fully enclosed his member through the fabric of his boxers. She literally had him by the bits. "I'm afraid not too, now," Harry said.

Ginny grinned. "Promise me, Harry."

"Okay, Ginny. I promise that you will be my first. If you make the same promise to me."

"I promise," she said. She could feel him throbbing under her hand. She did not want to let go, but she did. She was only twelve years old, after all. Slowly, deliberately she leaned forward until their lips met. She opened her mouth and for the very first time their tongues touched.

A huge wave of heat passed through them both, washing away the exhaustion from their encounter with the dementor. However, greater needs, such as breathing, forced them to part. Harry stared at her wide-eyed. "You are definitely not my sister," he agreed.

"No. I'm the girl that loves you."

"And I love you."

"Promise?"

He grinned. "I promise."

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Author's Note:

This is the end of Harry's 3rd year. The chapter was a bit longer, but also moved through quite a bit of time mainly because, with Pettigrew gone, there was not much happening.