A/N: Thanks for the reviews, everyone! Please keep it up, there's honestly no better motivation than a good review. Also, sorry for the slightly shorter chapters, that's just a necessary evil due to the way I've had to divide the story, so please bear with it.

Chapter 21 - On The Subject of Scars

"You think she found out?" Hermione gasped.

After her revelation, Harry had told Ginny not to worry about it until they got back to England, and subsequently began worrying about it himself. They had gathered in the kitchen for lunch (Charlie had found a whole duck in the larder, and had spent the last hour roasting and carving up enough for nine people) and after a frankly excellent meal, Harry had set about trying to talk to Ron and Hermione on their own.

It was tricky, to say the least. When everyone was gathered together, Harry had Ginny at his side almost non-stop, and he didn't want to worry her by discussing the matter around her, not yet, at least. On the other hand, he didn't dare approach Ron and Hermione when everyone had returned to their rooms after the incident in Hermione's dormitory... Eventually, Audrey had agreed to help him out, much to his surprise – she had struck up a conversation with Ginny, discussing everything from Quidditch to Hogwarts to Harry himself. The latter was a smart move as, according to Ron, she could talk all day about him. With Ginny distracted, he had beckoned for Ron and Hermione to follow, and slipped off down a side corridor, finding a lounge-like room that was abandoned, and ducking inside.

He had quickly explained the situation with Luna – Ron and Hermione reacted with the same level of surprise as he had – and began discussing the matter of Xenophilius' betrayal.

"How could she, though?" Ron said. "The only people who know are us, the Death Eaters, and old man Xenophilius himself. Well, the Death Eaters can't tell her, and she wouldn't listen if they could. You two didn't tell her, did you?"

They both shook their heads.

"And her dad wouldn't tell her he'd betrayed three of her best friends to the Death Eaters, would he? So how could she find out?"

Harry looked across at Hermione. They both looked uncertain, and seemed to be having the same suspicions.

"What if he confessed?" Harry said.

"Why would he, though?" Ron persisted. "No-one knows..."

"Maybe he felt guilty," Hermione said, looking rather sad. "He told us at the time he was doing it to get her back. Maybe he thought she'd forgive him because he was trying to save her?"

"Well, that plan backfired, didn't it?" Harry scoffed, "She hasn't spoken to him since."

"D'you think we should-" Ron began, but was interrupted by the sound of a door opening. The trio all looked round, as Bill poked his head through the doorway.

"Dad's back," he said, cheerfully, then added, "What are you all doing in here?"

"Emergency talks," Ron said, and then, without a hint of shame, "She's pregnant."

Bill's face flashed with momentary amazement, before he realised Ron was joking – at the same time, Hermione lunged at Ron, and slapped him hard on the arm. She seemed to reconsider for a moment, and then hit him several more times, although Harry couldn't help noticing she was blushing.

Bill shook his head and chuckled, then left the room.

"What did you say that for?" Hermione moaned, hitting Ron again as they wandered out of the room.

"Wishful thinking," Harry muttered, which earned him a few hits, too.

When they emerged into the entrance hall with Bill, Mr Weasley was chatting to Charlie and looking thoroughly happy with his little adventure. He was clutching a local newspaper (which was, rather unhelpfully, written in French) and a bag containing various odds and ends he'd bought in the village. Just as they approached, Charlie, who was grinning broadly, darted past them, heading for the kitchens. Harry thought he'd gone to get more food, but he actually went into his bedroom, next-door, and emerged in a pair of jeans and a brown dragon-skin jacket that seemed to have been burned in several places along the arms – probably his workwear as well as casualwear, Harry guessed.

"Where are you going?" Bill asked, as Charlie hurried past and made for the door.

"Dad met one of the Aussies from my team down in the pub; I'm going for a drink!"

Bill just rolled his eyes at this, as Charlie stepped out through the great wooden front doors, and Harry suspected that was the last they'd see of Charlie for the day.

"How was the village, Dad?" Ron said, brightly.

"Brilliant! Shame there's no Muggles about, though. Still, I know where the owl office is now, and the pubs, oh, and there's a sweet shop you lot might be interested in..."

"Arthur, I could 'ave told you that, I lived 'ere," Fleur sighed, and Arthur looked as if he was considering this for the first time. He seemed happy and relaxed, though, and that was what mattered.

Harry ran upstairs to change with Ginny (everyone had lazily eaten lunch in their swimwear), with the two of them deciding on some exploration for the afternoon. When they got upstairs, however, and he began to search for some clean clothes in the dresser, he felt the odd sensation of someone staring at him. He turned around, and saw Ginny, head tilted to one side as if assessing him.

"You've got new scars," she muttered.

"Oh... yeah, a few," he replied, and made to turn away again, but she moved closer, and put a hand on his chest.

"Bill says every scar has a story..." she said in an airy tone, sounding surprisingly like Luna. "Mind you, Charlie says he only says that to look interesting... but he has a point, doesn't he?"

"I guess," Harry mumbled, as Ginny pulled him over to the bed and sat down with him, scrutinising the pale marks all over his body.

"No need to explain this one," she smiled, running her fingers over the hated lightning bolt on his forehead. "But this is new, isn't it?"

Harry looked down – she was pointing at a large, pale blotch over his heart.

"It's a few months old. The locket Ron talked about? Salazar Slytherin's locket? When we went to Godric's Hollow" – he carefully avoided mentioning that Nagini had attacked them – "it sort of clamped itself to my chest. Hermione cut it off, but I got some pretty bad burns from it. That's where that scar came from."

Ginny nodded, and traced her hand silently up to the crook of his left arm, where a thick white scar seemed to form a slit in his skin.

"Fourth year. Pettigrew took my blood for... you know..." he trailed off, unable to say "to resurrect Voldemort". Ginny nodded, and cursed the rat, almost inaudibly, with words Harry was sure her mother wouldn't have approved of. Her hands ran up his shoulder, until they found the two little white dots, at the point where his neck met his shoulder.

"These look recent... were these from Diagon Alley?"

Harry nodded.

"Snake bite. Dolohov conjured one during the duel."

Ginny shuddered at the thought, and then continued to scan his torso. Harry was mentally pre-empting her, trying to think what other scars he had that she could spot... There was the Acromantula bite on his thigh, from the Triwizard Tournament, still scarred, but healed by Phoenix tears. That was hidden beneath his trunks though, which left...

"Umbridge," she growled, holding his right hand. The words "I must not tell lies" were still carved into the back of Harry's hand, but they were faint now. The words were barely legible unless he scrunched his fist up, and merely resembled a long, white blotch across the skin, like he'd been cut across the back of his hand with a jagged blade. He had already explained the blood quill incident to Ginny before, and felt no desire to do so again. However, as her hand ran up his arm, he remembered another scar, another wound healed by phoenix tears which had still left an ugly reminder on his skin, and one which he had hoped she wouldn't find, for the sake of her memories, not his.

Sure enough, her fingers tightened around his forearm, close to the crook of his elbow. The scar there consisted of a central, circular spot, with crooked lines trailing outwards that looked like tongues of flames. Like a bullet wound, the skin around the edge had been twisted around, giving it a slightly distorted look.

"Was this...?" she began, but trailed off, her voice breaking slightly.

"The basilisk... yeah..."

Ginny looked very subdued, and Harry understood why. On one of their visits to Hogwarts, Ron had said that the only two things which had ever brought Ginny to tears were Fred's very real death, and Harry's very fake one. Harry, however, knew that wasn't true. Ron hadn't been in the Chamber of Secrets with him. He hadn't heard the full story of what had happened to her, just Harry's second-hand account...

Slowly, he wrapped his arms around her, holding her tightly. She, in turn, buried her face in his chest, shaking slightly, as the painful memories came flooding back to both of them. Harry knew hers were worse – for him, it was just the memory of the basilisk, and his fear for her life. For Ginny, it was the revelation of what she had done, the betrayal of Riddle, the knowledge that she was to die, alone in the dark, and then the sweet awakening, only to see her saviour, mortally wounded... Harry just held her close, as he felt a few tears trickle onto his bare chest.

Next door, Ron was also thinking of scars. He and Hermione, like everyone else, had retreated to their room to change. They didn't bother going into separate rooms as they undressed, because they were mature, sensible adults. Or at least, one of them was.

As he pulled on a pair of jeans, Ron couldn't help looking over at Hermione. Something had caught his eye, and set off a chain of bitter memories inside his mind's eye. On her neck, tracing over her throat, a thin white line stood out. His mind still remembered the little beads of blood emerging from that same line, and he shuddered, as he inwardly swore "Never again". He was just reaching for a shirt when Hermione caught his eye, followed his gaze, and once again showed her uncanny skills of perception, for she instinctively shot up a hand, nervously rubbing the scar on her throat. Ron had noticed her doing it for weeks, a compulsive twitch whenever the memories of that day surfaced. He smiled sadly at her, and she smiled weakly back.

"I was too late," Ron muttered, more to himself than to Hermione, but she still stared reproachfully back as she finished fixing the clasp of her bra.

"I never thought I'd see you again," she said, drawing closer, "The way I see it, you were early..."

He chuckled grimly, but still didn't look convinced. He still blamed himself for leaving her, for failing her, for nearly losing her...

"You saved me," she purred, and pulled him down onto the edge of the bed, sitting next to him. "I guess some things never change."

"How d'you mean?" he muttered, his curiosity momentarily overcoming his guilt and sorrow.

"First year? You saved me from a troll?" Hermione said, eyebrow raised as if she was obviously talking about a troll.

"Oh, yeah... well, it wasn't just me, Harry was there too..."

Hermione scowled. Ron knew his pride had always been dented by being the latest in a long line of successful brothers, or by being the "sidekick" to famous Harry Potter. Hermione, however, knew that that also made his pride very easy to assuage.

"The way I remember it, he just stuck his wand up its nose and made it angrier. You were the one who knocked it out," she said, coolly.

Sure enough, he felt his face go a little bit redder, and his lips curled just a little bit further into a smile.

"Harry might be a hero," she continued, "but I want my hero..." With that, she leant over and kissed him on the lips. He abandoned any thought of restraint and kissed her back, placing his hands around her waist and lifting her up to sit on his knees. She grabbed him around the neck with her own hands, pulling him into the blissful embrace.

Quite suddenly, a question seemed to flicker into life behind her eyes, and she broke away. Ron was slightly concerned, and watched her face closely as she spoke.

"Ron..."

"Yeah?"

"Why did you tell Bill I was pregnant?" she said, evidently wondering why this was the first excuse he thought of. Ron let out a sigh of relief – he'd been expecting something much worse. He shook his head, and chuckled.

"Wishful thinking?" he grinned.

Hermione grinned back, and they both tumbled backwards onto the bed, locking lips once more.