Harry wrenched himself out of the public floo at the Leaky Cauldron and stumbled toward the back. He kept his head low, and his elbow up and he walked as best he could. His legs were lengthening by the moment. His hours of luck had run out, and he tripped over a patron's feet as he made his way to the back.
"Sorry, sorry," he muttered.
He flung the door open and was spinning before anyone could get a good look at his face.
The church just came into view when Ginny launched herself into his arms and knocked the wind out of him. He staggered back a few steps, adjusting his grip, and returned the sudden kiss with fervor. "You were worried, then?" he said when they came up for air.
"Time ran out two minutes ago," she said. Her legs were wrapped around his waist, her arms were around his neck, and her bum was in his hands.
Neville poked his head out the door and cleared his throat.
Harry gently eased her down to the ground, kissed the tip of her nose, and took her hand. "All of you made it back, then?" he asked. He already knew the answer but he had to ask.
"We all made it back," said Ginny.
The inside of the church was dark and cool. The deepening twilight made shadows across the room. Luna stood in the doorway to the kitchen, wearing her gaudiest yellow outfit, and holding a bottle of mead. They all looked at each other. Harry fidgeted. Ginny squeezed his hand, and when her lips twitched, Harry could no longer hold it in.
Then they were all laughing.
"Poor Erik—"
"He was so brave at the end, I have to tell you, standing up to them—"
"Couldn't believe how everything just—"
Minutes passed. Their voices swelled and filled the room as each told the story of what incredible luck they had. Luna – using Harry's Cloak and an all-access badge given to her – had been the busiest. It was her tour of the Department of Mysteries that had done the most for them.
"Oh, but August doesn't even know!" Luna cried.
"Oh, Harry – not only was Yaxley revealed as a Death Eater in front of the entire Wizengamot, but it was on the wireless! Everyone heard it! Everyone who was listening, I mean," said Ginny.
Harry gaped at them. "What?"
The other three managed to calm down enough to tell him that with the combined efforts of all three of them, the Death Eater had been forced to tell the truth – "Luna stole Veritagas… it's like Veritaserum, but worse… from the Department of Mysteries" – but he had done so in such a way that George managed to capture it on his wireless program. Harry listened, stunned, as the truth of their success reached him.
"My Snitch did a lot of damage," Ginny said. She folded her arms across her chest and her lips tilted in a smirk. "A little charm on it and it managed to let out all the Quaffles and Snitches and Bludgers out of where they kept them. Honestly, just keeping them all piled in one room…"
Neville and Harry roared with laughter. "Rosier bore the brunt of that one… I think he was trapped with them."
"But what did you do, August?" Luna asked when the laughter finally died down. Honestly, what the other three managed to do was incredible.
Harry shot her a glance. For half a second he wondered if she thought he'd been useless, but the earnest look on her face had him feeling guilty for having the thought. Of course they'd wonder what he was doing… locked up in Yaxley's office all day…
"I don't know if I affected anything that happened today," Harry said. "Not like you three."
"It's lucky Rosier was busy with putting out the fires Luna set in the Ministry," Ginny said. "Remember, he was the one who pushed me into having a tour of the Department of Magical Games and Sports—"
"That rebounded on him," Neville cackled.
"The witch – Mal – told me all sorts of stories, about stuff he did to her friend," Ginny said, grimacing. "Disgusting, it was." Her fingers squeezed his. "It was better he couldn't get you alone. You said he was trapped with all the Bludgers? Better that he couldn't get at Harry."
"I still had my wand," Harry said. "He couldn't have done too much."
"But it was lucky he didn't get a chance to interrogate you," said Ginny.
"It was also lucky that I happened to be alone in Yaxley's office," Harry said. He drew his wand – it looked like his normal holly-and-phoenix one, finally, instead of Gus Polkiss's short, swishy thing – and conjured up all the files he'd stolen. They landed with thumps all around them, as though the ceiling of the church had opened up and rained down evidence of everything Yaxley was working on. "I got the idea from you," he told Ginny. "Remember the last time we were at the Ministry together?" Ginny, Neville, and Luna were gaping around with open-mouthed astonishment. "I doubled all his files. Yaxley may have kept his office warded – the Aurors had to blast their way in to get me, I nearly had the ceiling fall down on top of me – but he was remarkably lax about guarding his files."
"You got all of them?" Neville said. His voice was very thin.
Ginny leaned forward, an expression of longing on her face. "This might have everything he was doing in secret! It might even expose other Death Eaters!"
"I know," Harry said smugly. "And – I didn't leave all of them. I flipped through a lot – he had files on your family, Ginny – and some of them I just… kept the original." Harry didn't know if it was due to Felix's prompting, or his own instincts, but some of the files he hadn't wanted to leave at the Ministry.
They all looked at each other again.
The laughter barely stopped this time as they drank their mead and continued to share small bits of the day. It's really extraordinary, that Felix, Harry thought. No wonder it was cautioned against. Taking it another time would be tempting, but Harry knew he'd be overly confident… especially how things had gone today.
A little later, Ginny and Luna were organizing the files into piles based on categories they'd decided between the two of them. Neville scribbled down a rough outline of the article they had to write, and Harry tried to help, but kept getting distracted. His mind wanted to go through everything that could've gone wrong had they not taken the potion.
It didn't help that only a few minutes later, Ginny looked up, and grimaced. "I've only just realized I left my lucky Snitch behind," she said. "I never saw it again after I left it with all the other Quidditch equipment."
Awareness hit him. "Just as I was leaving the Ministry – Felix was wearing off – I fumbled a grab at a Snitch!" he said. "What if it was yours?"
"Could have been," she said.
"Damn," he said.
"It was the one my parents had engraved with my name," she admitted. "It takes a special charm to engrave anything on a Snitch. They had my name put on it."
"Your name—"
But she waved off his concern. "There were hundreds of Snitches let loose," she said. "There's no reason they'd look too close at any of them. Harry, stop worrying."
He tried. They continued to celebrate, and it was after Luna left to go check on Nymphadora Tonks and Kingsley Shacklebolt and came back that they sat down to write the story in earnest. With much muttering and whispered swears (it was difficult to write as though they didn't have inside knowledge of exactly what had happened and how it had), their article progressed down the parchment.
"Careful," Harry warned Luna. "You wouldn't know Bode and Croaker's names, would you?"
"Right, thanks, August," she said, scratching off their names.
What if I hadn't decided to give her the Cloak?
What if Ginny hadn't been on the lift?
As the night deepened into the early hours of the morning, Ginny told them what her new friend in the Department of Magical Games and Sports had told her about Rosier. "He used to follow this woman everywhere she went, especially down to the clubs and such in Carn Alley," she said grimly. "If he saw her with another wizard… her friends said she'd be glassy eyed and strange for a week, but wouldn't admit he did anything, or even admit it was him. Mal said she thinks he used spells to do things to her."
Harry twitched, uncomfortable.
"He's a Death Eater," said Neville. "I wouldn't be surprised if he Imperiused her."
"Right," said Ginny. "Well, her friends finally intervened… got her away from him. Mal says he's been even worse than usual ever since." Brown eyes flicked toward Harry. "He would've tried everything to get you to confess to whatever he wanted you to."
Harry figured Ginny'd pinned Rosier's character fairly well. Remembering Dumbledore, Harry said, "It's good her friends got her out of there."
"I hate magic being used like that," Ginny said with great loathing.
"We all do," said Neville.
Luna left again. By the time she came back, their article was nearly finished. "Still no change in Shacklebolt," she announced. Tonks and Shacklebolt had been taken to Neville's gran's home. Harry hadn't asked for the details, but considering they used her home for a werewolf boy and two fugitives from the Ministry, he had to guess that Augusta Longbottom knew Neville's secrets.
"But Tonks woke up?" Ginny asked. She finished the paragraph she was writing with flourish and drank the last of her mead.
"Tonks woke up for a bit, and is now sleeping again," Luna said.
"How's Gran with her?"
Luna bobbled her hand. "Mostly staying away."
"That's for the best," said Neville.
"Hopefully this Shacklebolt fellow will come out of it," said Ginny.
"He looked awful," Luna said softly. "He looks awful."
Harry read over the last bit of Ginny's section. "Excellent," he said. "I don't see anything in here that gives any of us away." He scrubbed at his eyes. When Luna asked him to look over hers as well, he kept having to reread everything. The words swam in his vision and doubled; he kept having to blink to get his eyes to cooperate. "Yeah, that's good, Luna."
"Blimey, I'm tired," said Neville. "But I don't think I could sleep."
"Me too," said Luna. "But I'm going to try anyway."
Harry nodded. Their article was done. They all stared at it, before Ginny performed the charms that would polish it up and duplicate it. All around him, sheets of parchment floated into the air. Words appeared on them, and the pieces folded themselves into the shape of a turnip.
The papers would be delivered before The Daily Prophet had a chance to spin it the way the Ministry wanted. In the space of the last few minutes, all of his limbs had the tight, trembly feeling Harry associated with being on the verge of exhaustion. The others looked the same as he felt.
"I think we all need a break," Neville said suddenly.
"A break?" Ginny said.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that I'm exhausted," Neville said. "We've been chasing stories without stopping for months. We just subverted the aims of Death Eaters."
"We're harboring fugitives," added Luna.
"I think we're all exhausted," he said again. Harry could not agree more. "I'm taking a break, and I think you lot should too."
"A break," Ginny said slowly, as though she'd never heard of such a thing before.
"We'll take care of what we have to, but I'm not going to think of another article until – until after Christmas," Neville said.
"I think that's a great idea," Harry said.
The laughter had ceased, but they all managed weary smiles at each other before they went to grab their things. Harry murmured "Happy Christmas" to Luna and Neville, and followed Ginny into her office.
The exhaustion of the entire day pulsed through Harry, and when they went to her office and closed the door, it gathered heat. A handsome barn owl waited patiently on the desk, and held out its leg. Ginny took the scroll from it and deftly flipped it to check the wax seal.
"It's from WADA," she said.
"More magical plays to watch?" Harry asked.
She smiled up at him. "I don't know, and I won't find out until Neville lets us go back to work." Her smile deepened and she dropped the scroll on her desk. The owl's head bobbled as it looked from Ginny to the scroll, seemed to decide not to wait for a reply, and soared out the open window and into the night.
Harry wrapped his arms around her. "We did it," he said.
"We did," she said. She nuzzled his chest. "And Gus Polkiss didn't even have to be interrogated by Rosier." Her fingertips pressed into his back, massaging him. "You're so tense, Harry."
"I know, I – keep going over everything that could've gone wrong."
"Well, don't," said Ginny.
"All right," said Harry. "Can we go back to the tent now? Just to sleep?" He was pretty sure she was going to say yes, and he was quite shocked when she shook her head against him. "What, why?"
"Dad said Mum's been getting annoyed at all the kneazle emergencies," said Ginny. "He suggested that I need to be home by the time she wakes up. And that was while I was under the influence of our lucky potion, so I think I'd better do as he asks." She chuckled a little. "It was probably lucky I got a chance to anticipate her temper."
"But that's got to be hours from now!" he said.
"Probably less than an hour, it's later – earlier – than you think," Ginny said with great regret. She tipped her chin and looked up at him. Harry cradled the back of her head in his hands. "But we do have that hour. We could go back to the tent for just a little bit…"
There was an invitation in her words. Despite his exhaustion, heat gathered. He stroked her back… there was nothing more he wanted to do than go with her back to their tent and spend the next hour losing themselves in one another. His heart sped up. He could see it in his mind: Ginny writhing beneath him, moving her hips with his, his name on her lips whenever he pushed all the way in—
Don't be so selfish, Harry.
She deserved better than a hurried, stolen moment.
Harry pulled away from her. It was a wrench to do so.
"I'm… really tired," he said, linking his fingers with hers. "I think… we should sleep. After this," he said. A tired chuckle escaped him. "After the Ministry, I could sleep for a week."
"Don't sleep for a week, my parents would never understand why you skipped Christmas," Ginny said. "We may not have… private time to be together over the next few days."
He sighed.
She put her hand over his heart. "Let's try to sneak away at Christmas."
"Yes, please," he said, and kissed her – a long, lingering kiss. And then he let go of her hand and left. He felt strangely hollow, leaving her, but he needed a moment. Needed to breathe. Needed to remind himself of all the reasons why he shouldn't be impatient. Just like last night, it was tempting to throw all caution to the wind.
Sometime during the night, his dreams grew fangs. It had started with a pleasant reliving of what had just happened; Ginny was stretched out perpendicular to his body, her hair draped over him, tickling sensitive flesh, and her lips nibbled down his shaft. Then, to his growing horror, his own hand betrayed him. He pulled at her hair, roughly, positioning her over him, moving her head up and down—
Harry jerked away from the dream, waking himself up. He hadn't done that – didn't want to do it – could remember telling her, during, that he wasn't going to. Or was it that he did for a second, but forgot? The pleasure had been so intense… the feel of her lips on him, the sight of him disappearing into her mouth… he'd lost his mind.
He rolled over onto his back. It was the lateness of the hour, and the intensity of his anxiety, that had his thoughts straying to a time in his life he desperately wanted to forget.
"I don't really think—"
"You love me, don't you?"
Harry loved her a lot. She was perfect in every way, and if he could get this small voice out of his head, telling him there was something wrong, everything would be wonderful. He'd been so lonely… and this witch… she was perfect in every way.
"Of course I do," he said. He kissed her again and again and again. "I love you, I love you, I love you," he told her. The words spilled out of his mouth and she chuckled. Something isn't right, that little voice said. You don't want to do this. Her laugh was a little grating, but Merlin knew Harry himself wasn't perfect.
"Don't you want to show me you love me?"
"I…"
Harry never wanted to hurt her feelings by admitting this to her, but the last time he'd done it, she'd nearly smothered him. Then her hands were in his hair, pushing his head down. "Oh, yeah, oh, yeah, Harry Potter," she said. Still, he resisted. The pressure on his head increased. When he tried to duck away, she tugged at his hair, and looked down at him in genuine annoyance. "Don't be so selfish, Harry."
Harry felt slightly ill, but he sighed and went down.
Harry scrambled out of bed, vastly irritated that despite the long day, his sleep was fitful. He threw himself into motion, gathering up his clothes, and wand, and leaving his darkened room. It was bright in the hallway.
"Harry! You're awake!"
Harry nearly snarled at Ron. "Sort of," he mumbled.
"Ah," Ron took a step back. "Have you seen Remus?"
"No," Harry said shortly.
"Well, The Turnip arrived before we even woke up, and – oh, you weren't here last night, so you missed George – did you hear it on the wireless? The Head of Magical Law Enforcement was a Death Eater! A Death Eater, Harry!"
Harry's terrible mood had caused him to forget that everyone else would be reacting to the events at the Ministry yesterday. "Oh, what, yeah…" Harry said. It was the best he could do on such short notice and after so little sleep.
The smile on Ron's face faltered, and hurt slid behind blue eyes.
"Sorry," Harry muttered. "I'm sorry. I didn't sleep hardly at all last night."
"More nightmares?" Ron asked, matter-of-fact.
Harry hesitated. "No, this wasn't like when I was recovering," he said. "Just… regular nightmare, sort of."
"Well… we'll be downstairs in the kitchen," Ron said. There was an odd hesitance in his tone. "I want Remus's take on what happened, so if you see him, send him down?"
"I'll be there once I've had my shower," Harry said resolutely.
"Ah," said Ron. "Good. We'll have breakfast waiting for you."
Pull it together, Harry told himself. He stood naked in the loo, tapped the faucet with his wand, and stepped into the spray of warm water. He leaned into it, letting it flow over him. There was nothing he could do to change the past, why bother worrying over it? Whatever happened, happened.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHP
It had taken quite some time to come up with what to get Ginny for Christmas. It was one of the many lucky moments Harry had had at the Ministry – finding out that the Quidditch World Cup was set to take place in Ireland this year, and that tickets went on sale on Christmas Eve. It was true he couldn't buy tickets for just Ginny and himself – not if he wanted her to be able to open her present with the rest of the Weasleys.
"Looks like Harry gave everyone the same thing this year," Ron said cheerfully.
"I did," Harry admitted. He was last to arrive, and he was stuffing identical white envelopes into everyone's stockings.
Everyone wore pajamas under their dressing gowns. Percy and Arthur had completed the look with blue striped nightcaps – Percy's girlfriend Audrey wore a matching one in pink. The twins wore shorts under their dressing gowns and seemed quite comfortable displaying very pale, very freckled legs. The look on George's face was almost manic.
"You know who won't be having a good Christmas?" he said with glee, as Harry stepped over his legs to get to the sofa. Arthur had charmed it; it held twelve people quite comfortably. There was an empty spot next to Remus.
"Oh, sorry, Ginny," Harry said. The empty spot was a sliver of about twelve inches between Remus and Ginny. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Of course not, Harry," she said cheerfully. "Happy Christmas!"
"No one who works for the Ministry is having a Happy Christmas!" George said quite loudly.
"Ginny, dear, scoot a bit closer to me, Harry's getting squished," Molly said.
Harry, who was not quite as close to Ginny as he wanted to be, said: "I'm quite comfortable, Molly, thank you." He pressed his thigh against Ginny's and turned to Remus. "Are you… all right?" he asked. Honestly, he was surprised to see Remus here. Everyone had heard about what the Ministry had been trying to do to werewolves, of course, thanks to George. He'd spent the day after the solstice vote discussing it with Ron and Hermione, while Remus stared grim-faced into the fire and offered paltry commentary.
Remus turned and blood-shot eyes stared into his. "I'm… possibly still not quite fit for company," he said. His lips trembled though his eyes remained dry. "I'm – I still can't quite believe—"
"I believe it," Percy said. "The Ministry is—"
"Corrupt," finished Arthur.
The events of a few days past loomed over the morning. Normally, the Weasleys were quite enthusiastic about giving and receiving gifts; today, conversation threatened to take over. George was the most distracted. "And because of our wireless, Fred! It all happened because I needed Dad's help to get that component working!" he laughed gleefully. Fred seemed slightly put out that he'd not been involved.
"Be careful where you say that," Arthur pleaded. "I'm afraid once the dust settles—"
"The literal dust!" Percy laughed. "That horrid statue couldn't be put back together, did you hear?"
The exuberant discussion that followed lasted ten minutes. It was only Harry's section of the couch that remained silent. Frankly, Harry was afraid to join in, worried that he would give something away. The secrets he and Ginny had suddenly seemed enormous. They were hiding Nymphadora Tonks – who was kind and friendly but refused to talk about anything beyond the superficial, which was ridiculous, considering she and Kingsley Shacklebolt were fugitives from the law. Harry would have thought she'd trust them.
Harry tipped his head back and thought of Shacklebolt. He'd not woken up once since Luna had turned him back into a human being. At first, he'd wondered if her transfiguring Shacklebolt and Tonks into turnips in order to carry them out of the Ministry had damaged them in some way. But Tonks woke up just fine. He took another breath; Ginny's head shifted, and he caught a whiff of her flowery scent and smiled.
"Look, Harry thinks it's funny," Fred said.
"I don't—" Harry began.
"It's not entirely a joking matter, a prisoner escaped," Percy interrupted.
"Right. A prisoner," Ron said. "Did the Ministry ever say what Shacklebolt did? Or why he was in there?"
"We don't know, they never said, but we do know that Shacklebolt worked closely with Moody," Arthur said quietly.
Harry's shoulders tensed. This was not the first time this had been discussed. Christmas Eve had been so over-taken by discussion that Molly'd been near tears by the time everyone left. He was about to say something – about to interject – when it was Remus who spoke up. "Can we please discuss something – anything – else?" he asked.
Harry was in agreement, and he knew Ginny was too. The tip of his finger brushed against her thigh as Harry rubbed at an imaginary itch on his leg.
"But Remus—"
"My kind was almost just sentenced to perpetual servitude to the whims of the Ministry," Remus said in a low growl. "I was almost just sentenced to become a slave. Moreover, without Harry, I would have been one of the wolves sent to kill witches and wizards." He speared George with a glance. "I would prefer if we could manage to discuss anything else." It spoke to Remus's state of mind that he asserted himself like this at such a gathering.
"It didn't happen," Harry reminded him.
"By accident," Remus pointed out. His face sagged. "It was so close," he said in a low voice. "If George hadn't been there with his wireless, who knows what would've happened?"
Harry opened his mouth to speak but Ginny's fleeting touch on his arm stopped him.
"Maybe it wouldn't have gone that way with the vote," Ginny gave Remus a gentle lie. "Remus, we don't know."
"You read it in The Turnip, I'm sure, Ginny," Remus said, equally gently, all-unknowing that it was Ginny who'd stayed up all night preparing the article for publication the day after what was meant to be the solstice vote. "The would-be victims from Hogsmeade were there… they made quite the dramatic force. The Wizengamot would have voted in favor of the measure."
"Then I'm glad George accidentally saved the day," said Ginny.
"But it's Christmas now," Molly said in a loud voice. "And we're here to celebrate Christmas." Her tone left no room for argument, and her family and friends meekly began to open the presents being levitated toward them. The only conversation that followed were exclamations and thanks.
"Oh, this is great firewhiskey!"
"Thanks, George!"
"Fred, honestly, I don't even know if I can trust these liqueurs," said Arthur. He had a tray of different, fancy-looking bottles. He poked at them with his wand. "They aren't going to do anything to me, are they? Turn me into a giant? Shrink me down to the size of a toy?"
Fred pressed his hand to his heart. "Dad! Would I do that?"
Everyone laughed.
Harry opened a package, and found his annual Christmas sweater. It was bottle-green and had a black H on the front of it. "Thanks, Molly!" he said. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ginny'd crossed her legs; her dressing gown parted, revealing an expanse of leg. Harry smiled, and wished it were tomorrow already, when they could be alone again in the tent.
Ron was holding Hermione's sweater up to her, and even Harry – who often felt he was inadequate a boyfriend for Ginny – could tell that he was saying the wrong thing. "Look, Hermione, you must've grown – the sweater is too small for you."
Harry shared a glance with Ginny, laughing.
"Looks like Harry took a feather from Mum's quill," Percy said. "We've all got the same thing from him, see?"
Ron pulled out the white envelopes Harry'd distributed into stockings less than an hour ago. He wiped suddenly sweaty palms on his dressing gown. Ginny's white envelope was in her hand. He'd spent an absurdly long time last night trying to decide if writing her name on the outside of the envelope was too much of a giveaway. You're mental, Potter, he'd told himself, and hurriedly scrawled 'for Ginny' on it. Looking back, he ought to have written something on everyone's envelope, and not just hers.
Of course, it seemed fitting. It really was mostly for her.
"What the actual fuck!" George shouted. He was the first to open his.
"The World Cup?" Remus asked. His mouth hung open. "You bought me a ticket to the Quidditch World Cup?"
Ginny leaned toward him and her hair brushed the side of his neck. "You bought all of us tickets?"
Harry looked at her. "Well, I couldn't just buy one of you tickets, could I?"
"True," said Ginny. Her eyes were bright. "That would hardly be fair."
"Blimey," Fred moaned. "The Quidditch World Cup!"
Everyone was staring at him; even Ginny's gaze still rested on him. Harry felt heat rise up the back of his neck. He was very careful to look at all the Weasleys and Remus as he spoke. "I know how much you love Quidditch," he said. Too revealing. He added in a rush: "How much all of us love Quidditch. I just thought — since it's in Ireland — it would be fun... you know... when Arthur took a bunch of us, that was one of the best days—"
"Before the Death Eaters came out to play," Bill muttered.
"But some of you weren't there," Harry said, keenly aware that Ginny had been deemed too young to go. Or maybe Arthur would've taken Ginny and Molly if Hermione and I didn't take those extra two tickets. "I just thought — it'll be fun to go all together." Make new memories. And this time, Ginny would be there along with everyone else he cared about—
"Oh, Harry, this was so generous!"
"I feel like Christmas came early," Fred said, very seriously.
"Except it's already Christmas!" said George. "Today is Christmas!" He waved his ticket about like a flag.
"Right you are, George," Fred conceded.
"I just can't believe it," Ron said. He was staring down at his ticket, awe clearly written on his face. "Merlin's sagging y-fronts, Harry! This is—"
"Oh, I so wish Ron and I could be there!" Hermione said.
"I — what?" said Harry.
"What?" Ron said in horror. "What do you mean, wish we could be there?"
"Ron," Hermione said patiently.
To Harry's very great surprise, the horror faded, and a slow, easy smile stretched nearly all the way across Ron's face. "Oh. Right. We can't—"
"But why..." Harry's mind raced. How could they possibly know they couldn't go to the World Cup, did they have some sort of vacation planned? Harry sat up straight and sucked in a breath. Hermione's illness — the comments Ginny'd made — he'd made that potion for her, and she hadn't wanted him to know what it was for.
"We were going to announce it today, anyway," Hermione said. "And we want to say—"
"Hermione and I are going to have a baby!" Ron burst out. "I mean — Hermione's having it, obviously, and — but couldn't we bring it along? The World Cup, Hermione!"
"A newborn at the Cup, Ron?"
"They're supposed to be fairly portable at that point, aren't they? Ginny was like a little potato Mum took everywhere."
"Congratulations, Hermione! Ron!" Ginny got up from her seat, just as the Weasleys swarmed around Hermione and Ron, expressing amazement and joy.
"A grandbaby!" Molly cried, fairly tackling her youngest son.
Harry hung back with Remus, grinning, watching as his oldest friends were celebrated. Arthur was beaming and slapping his leg, ruffling his son's hair, and saying "wonderful, just wonderful" over and over again. Fred and George grabbed Ron in a tight circle, knocking Bill to the ground when they got too exuberant, and Percy shook Hermione's hand at least four separate times. Molly finally became so overset that she sat in an armchair, and Ginny kept patting her on the shoulder.
"I can't believe you kept this secret!" George said with a tremendous amount of glee.
"Only Ginny found out," said Ron. "Dunno how she managed to keep that quiet, you know how she is with secrets."
Harry's stomach jolted and it took all his effort not to look at her. Without even trying, he could list off at least ten different secrets Ginny kept. If he looked at her now, Harry was certain the Weasleys would be able to read them off his face like a list on parchment. As it was, he felt the brief touch of Remus's gaze, shifted uncomfortably, and rushed forward to add his own congratulations.
As he hugged Hermione, he murmured in her ear: "So... that potion...?"
Her cheeks turned pink. "I guess pregnancy makes some women sicker than others. The healers said that happens, sometimes. But they've checked repeatedly — I've gone in at least twelve times and read all the books — and the mucus membrane seems perfectly in order—"
"It's Christmas, Hermione," Ron said. "You promised me you wouldn't use that phrase today." But he was beaming as he said it, wrapped his arm around Hermione's shoulders, and kissed the top of her head. To Harry, in a low voice, he said: "She's been worried she'd puke so hard, the baby would, you know, break through."
"That's not what I was worried about," Hermione said, exasperated. "I've read that the membrane—"
Harry interrupted her by throwing his arms around both of them. "You two..." he said. The words nearly stuck in his throat. The fact they were having a baby — after everything — that life was settled and peaceful enough for them to have a baby — they were going to be parents! "Congratulations," he said lamely, unable to convey any of this.
Hermione's eyes were over-bright and even Ron's were slightly wet. "Thanks, Harry," they said.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHPHPHP
The celebration of Christmas — and, more importantly, the new baby who would arrive, Hermione assured them, some time in May — continued through the morning and into the afternoon. Finally, the happy couple extricated themselves from the Burrow. "Honestly, we've really got to go!" Hermione kept laughing. "We've got to tell my parents!" The celebration shifted in tone, and Harry found himself stuffing himself full with the various food Molly kept floating out.
Everyone was still in their pajamas. Ginny, as active as ever, kept flashing him secret smiles and hints of bare leg.
"I don't begrudge the Grangers time with their daughter — especially as she's expecting — but I do wish they hadn't left for an entire week!" This was from Molly, and Harry's gaze shifted from the Christmas tree, where Ginny knelt amidst empty boxes and wrapping paper, to the doorway to the kitchen.
"What do you mean, a week?" Harry asked.
"They're going to Majorca with the Grangers, dear," Molly said. "Didn't they tell you?"
"They didn't!" Harry said. He laughed. "But they've been keeping secrets from me lately, I've found out." He laughed again. "They'll be gone a whole week, eh?"
"They leave tomorrow," confirmed Arthur. "And they'll get back after the New Year... on the third, I believe."
"Oh, that's right, Harry, you'd already left when the owl came," Molly said suddenly. "I'm sure they weren't keeping it from you—"
"—they didn't even know they'd entered the contest," said Arthur.
"What contest?" Harry asked, bewildered.
"The Ministry has a contest every year, and sponsor someone's Christmas vacation. Ron and Hermione won," Arthur explained. He gave a very uncharacteristic snort. "It was practically the only thing that went right for the Ministry that day, everything else went to pieces."
"I expect they won't be forgetting the day of the solstice any time soon," said Molly. "And just as well."
Arthur flicked a glance at Remus. "As I said, the only thing the Ministry did right that day was choosing Hermione's name out of a hat."
Ginny laughed quietly, and Harry felt an answering sort of giddiness. "So... they'll be gone from tomorrow until the third?" Harry asked, quite unable to believe his own luck. "The third of January?"
"Same day I'm moving into my new place, then," Ginny said cheerfully. "They'll be home in time to help me, I hope."
"You don't have to move back out again, you know," Molly said, sounding a little wistful. "You could live here... save a little money..."
"I like having my own place, Mum, no one tells me I need to clean my room," Ginny pointed out. "Speaking of my room, though, I think I'm going to take a nap. After all this excitement, I'm knackered."
It was as though this was the signal for everyone to wander off. Bill and Charlie went out with Arthur to his shed — Harry suspected Arthur'd finally replaced the Ford Anglia, and was having his sons help him charm it. The twins went to "set up the fireworks show" out in the orchard; Percy brought out an attaché and mumbled something about work. Finally, it was Remus, Harry, and Molly in the sitting room, surrounded by a profusion of paper, and Harry was acutely aware of Ginny taking a nap three floors up.
There was nothing more Harry wanted to do than crawl into bed with her. They might even nap, Harry thought. He cast a thoughtful, sidelong look at Remus. With Ron and Hermione out of Grimmauld Place for over a week, he would have to think of something.
"I think I'm going to go try again to find that — erm, thing," Harry said. It was risky, but Harry didn't think it too much to ask for a bit of privacy on Christmas to kiss his girlfriend.
"Oh, you and Ginny never found it?" Molly said, surprised.
"No," said Harry. "We didn't have any luck."
"What was it again?" she asked.
Harry cast about quickly for an item of at least middling importance. Nothing to do with Christmas — it's got to be — remember, you told her it was small — and sentimental. "Um. It was something my — well, something Sirius gave me." Thank Merlin Remus isn't in the room, Harry thought.
Molly's eyes softened. There was a knowing glint in them that made Harry freeze. "I suspect we all want moments of reflection today," she said. Harry took this to mean she wasn't sure he hadn't just made that up on the spot, and that he was going up to Ron's room to grieve. It was, after all, what he'd done last year. Still recovering from Voldemort's curse and his time at St. Mungo's, Dumbledore had assisted Harry to come to the Burrow. Once there, he had needed a few pockets of time to be by himself — to process a Christmas without the threat of war or the burden of being Harry Potter, prophesied Chosen One. Everyone seemed to understand, and Molly was equally kind and understanding this year.
Guilt rang through him. It's Ginny's secret to tell, he told himself fiercely in the next instant. It's not your secret. Not really.
Harry smothered the guilt and murmured his thanks.
Remus waylaid him before he made it to the stairs. "I didn't realize you had anything personal from Sirius," he said quietly, and put his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Want me to help you look for it? What is it, anyway?"
"Oh, you heard that?" Harry asked weakly. "Werewolf hearing, eh?"
"Indeed," said Remus. His eyes were warm and kind. Harry found himself almost wishing there were some small, sentimental item he'd received from Sirius and somehow lost in Ron's room. "Hearing, seeing... sense of smell." He paused. "I bet I could sniff out something that used to belong to Sirius. He's not been gone long enough that I've forgotten—"
"Except it was my dad's," Harry said hastily.
Remus sighed. "Well, Harry, it looks like I'm of no use…"
"It's okay," Harry said. "I don't mind having a bit of… quiet."
"I've always found the silencing charm useful for that," said Remus.
"Erm, right," said Harry. "Thanks, Remus. And thanks for offering to – you know – help."
"You're welcome, Harry," said Remus.
Once Harry was on his way up the stairs, his residual guilt over lying to both Molly and Remus drifted away to be replaced by anxiety over Ginny. It was perfectly natural of him to want a private moment with her. She may not want to take the risk, he pointed out to himself. It'd been a long few days, what with worrying over whether or not he'd been too thoughtless and exuberant with her, and not being able to have a moment alone with her. She could actually be asleep, he thought.
Her room was on the third landing; this Harry knew from having practically lived here at different points throughout the years. He knocked on the shut door, softly, and waited. He found the most shadowy corner he could on that landing, and waited in it. There was no reply. He tried again, a little louder. When a minute passed in silence, Harry sighed, and went up the stairs to Ron's room. He could have a bit of a kip himself. And you'll be perfectly content to be with her tomorrow, he told himself, to bolster his flagging spirits. Ron and Hermione will be gone! If you can get Remus out of the house for a bit, you can—
His thoughts had carried him to Ron's door. As soon as he opened it, Ginny landed in his arms. Her arms were around his shoulders, her lips on his, and Harry caught her under the bum and staggered back against the doorjamb. It was bliss, having her in his arms; it was quite easy to ignore the pain in his back. What did it matter, having something dig into his back? Her tongue was in his mouth, sliding against his, and his hands had explored enough of her night-shirt clad bum to know she wasn't wearing any knickers.
"Have you been naked all morning?" Harry pulled back, and winced when he banged his head against the jamb. He ignored this, and lifted her higher against him.
"No," she said. "No! Merlin, no. I just took them off."
Harry adjusted her higher against his stomach and carried her over her onto Ron's bed. He plopped her down on it and crawled up next to her. His lips met hers and he ran his fingers over the expanse of flesh that had so fascinated him all morning. He touched her calves, her knees, her thighs, and was pleased when she opened them wider. "I missed you," he told her. "I knocked on your door – I thought you were really sleeping."
She smiled at him. "I nearly fell asleep waiting for you to get here."
"I'm sorry if I made you wait," Harry said quietly.
"Oh, I'm just teasing you, it wasn't that long," said Ginny.
His fingers had found her center; she was wet for him, and she sighed when his thumb grazed her folds. He stroked her lightly, gently, and saw her nipples push up against the fabric of her nightshirt. Harry liked it; it wasn't anything like the diaphanous thing she'd worn the first time they'd gone to the tent. It looked like a t-shirt, though no Muggle would ever own it. A rowboat with wings bobbed across it through a starry night. His fingers teased her open, entered her, and he was just bending over—
"Wait!"
He froze.
Her body twisted away from him and she scrabbled for her wand. It was on Ron's bedside table and she pointed it at the door. Harry kicked himself – he'd left it open! True, Ron's room was at the very top of the Burrow – presumably this was why they were there, and not in Ginny's room – but still. Ginny remedied his error, and added a few other charms. "There," she said. She came back into his arms, fully flush against him. "We definitely need that."
"We do," Harry admitted.
Her fingers were busy on his front; she untied his dressing gown, and shoved it away. In the next instant, she found his erection through his pajama bottoms, and stroked it up and down. Harry groaned at the feel of the slightly rough fabric sliding against sensitive skin. She nestled in the crook of his arm, and her eyes never left his as she touched him. Their breath mingled; Harry smelled mint and chocolate and a faint suggestion of pine leaves. His hand came up to cup her jaw, and he could suddenly smell her.
"What are you smiling at?" Ginny asked.
Harry shook his head. "Nothing. Everything. This."
He helped her tug down his pajamas and he kicked them off his legs.
"Harry," she said. Her fingers brushed his stomach and his muscles trembled. "I was wondering if you… had something in mind… for us to do today." There was a glint in her eyes Harry could read easily. How could he not? It was invitation, desire, and question all at once.
His erection throbbed; his stomach squeezed.
He made a show of looking around the room. "It wouldn't be in Ron's old room," he said. His gaze bounced from furnishing to furnishing.
She smiled a little ruefully. "I was hoping it'd be a Christmas – you know."
He kissed the tip of her nose. "I wouldn't want to – rush – just because… you know. It's Christmas." He kissed her forehead. Then he kissed her lips. "That's not the kind of present I'd expect, or anything. Not for the first time. That's not… I wouldn't."
"Well, now I feel a little guilty that I was hoping that would be my Christmas present," Ginny told him. Then she laughed a little, "As if a ticket to the Quidditch World Cup wasn't enough! And that's amazing, by the way, I don't think I said thank you."
"You're welcome," he told her. There'd been an awkward cant to her words. Harry soothed that away, kissing her, rolling her over onto her back, and kissing his way down her nightshirt to where she was waiting for him. By the time his tongue found her clit, she was whispering his name. When he slipped his fingers inside her, she was moaning it. And when he kept increasing the pressure with his tongue and the speed of his fingers, she was shouting it.
Harry squeezed his eyes shut when he felt her climax against him. Her body jerked with the force of it. I love this, he thought. And because he loved the taste of her, the feel of her coming against his mouth and on his fingers, he didn't move. When her hips eased back, and her fingers let go of his hair, he started lapping at her again – gently. So gently.
"Again?" she gasped. Harry looked up at her. Her hair was a red, tangled halo around her face, which was flushed and beautiful.
"I'm still hungry," he told her.
Later, after she'd finished a second time, and Harry held her, she stroked his chest. "Just give me a minute," she whispered. Her hands were trembling. "Merlin, Harry, I've never… that felt…" She moved against him. Her hip brushed his erection, which Harry was trying – and failing – to ignore.
"I have a present for you," she said languidly.
"You didn't need to get me anything," Harry murmured.
"I wanted to," she said. "Unfortunately, I've been having to negotiate for it. That's why we've barely been able to see each other the last days, it's not just Mum. It's taking a bit of time."
Harry was instantly intrigued, and he pulled her up closer so he could look her in the face. "What is it?" he asked.
"I'm not telling you," she said. Her eyes were closed.
"Why not?"
"Because it's a Christmas gift," she said, exasperated. "It's meant to be a surprise."
"But today is Christmas," Harry said. "You could just tell me what it is, and I'd be surprised."
"I could," she allowed. "But I'm not going to."
"I could try to convince you," he teased her. Then he kissed her, trying to tell her without words all the desire he felt for her coursing through his body, trying to reignite her own passion with his. His tongue tangled with hers and he pressed himself closer, squeezing her bum, and bringing her right up against where he was hard for her. He lost himself in the sensation of her in his arms, kissing him, and he was on his back, Ginny was laying between his thighs, and her lips were on his stomach before he quite realized what was happening. His fingers were threaded in her hair, what if he'd—
"Sorry!" he gasped, snatching his hands away. "I'm sorry…"
"For what?" she asked. Her lips were on his hipbone, and he could barely think.
"You don't have to do this," Harry said. His hips twitched and he was straining toward her. There was nothing in the world he wanted more. "You don't have to do this," he said again. Sweat beaded on his brow.
"We've already had this conversation," she reminded him. "I like doing this," she said with relish.
Her thumb stroked the tip of him and made it extremely difficult to think. "I was too rough," he said. "When I – I lost my mind—"
He looked down at her and nearly lost it again. It was the most erotic sight he'd ever seen, with her hair spread out all over him, her eyes pinning him, and his erection arching toward her. He shifted. "I was too rough," he repeated feebly. Hadn't he been?
"I can't think of a point where you were even remotely rough," Ginny said. Puzzlement glimmered in her eyes, and her nimble fingers stopped stroking him. "You were probably gentler than me, you know I – get wound up."
"Yes, but—"
She drew back as though stung, and gaped at him in horror. "Oh, Merlin, am I too rough?"
"No!" Harry said. "No, no, no."
"I've definitely pulled your hair," Ginny said.
"Not hard," said Harry. "Not too hard. But Ginny – it's different."
"How?" she asked.
He thought about it. Then, when other thoughts tried to intrude, he shook his head. "I just think it's different. I don't want to be… rough."
"I'd tell you if you hurt me," she said. Her fingertips rested on his stomach. "This is what it felt like, having your hand in my hair." She pressed down lightly, and stroked him. Harry had to admit that he probably hadn't hurt her. When she smiled at him, he relaxed. "You squeezed my bum a bit, but I liked it."
With her settled fully between his thighs, instead of how she'd been last time, it would be impossible to reach her bum, during. Harry realized this with a pang of regret.
"I didn't have much control," he admitted. "Last time. I just… you don't have to do anything you don't want to."
"I know," she said. "And neither do you."
He collapsed against the pillow, put his hand in her hair, and massaged her scalp. His fingers trailed through her long, soft hair, and when she bent her head to kiss him, his worries were burned away by the heat of her lips on him. Her thumb slid along his shaft as she pressed kisses against his belly and downward. "Merlin, Ginny," he managed to say. "You make me so happy."
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Author's Note: So! It was odd to write a Christmas chapter in… May. It's June, but this was written in May. I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I can't promise when the next one will be polished enough to post here. I was thinking about how I am using the discord server like livejournal – posting stuff there before I posted here. If I remember correctly, it was because Yellow Sub was very difficult and tricky to write… much like Peverell is. I enjoy a challenge, but it is nice to have a safer place to post first before it comes here.
Anyway. Wish me luck with the next chapters. I think you can see why they'll be a bit more of a challenge.