Later, Harry would not remember the minutes after Bobbins and Crouch Jr. disappeared. He knew Dumbledore took control as Harry stumbled to Ginny. It was that first searing look she gave him, brown eyes steady on his, that gave him a relief so powerful that his limbs felt like they'd been deboned. They're all right. Either she whispered it or he did, and those words echoed in his head. Somehow, they made it out of the Hall of Prophecy, out of the Department of Mysteries, and out of the Ministry of Magic. It must have been mentioned by someone — Harry could not remember who — that Molly and Arthur had been whisked away. They were going home... home to the Burrow.
Someone — Dumbledore, Harry assumed — erected a shield between them and the thronging crowd in the Ministry atrium. Questions passed through it. Even Dumbledore could not create a shield strong enough to prevent questions from being flung at them. Harry caught the flash of cameras, but Dumbledore managed it all and Harry was forced to do nothing at all except duck his head and follow after Ginny.
"I will be available to answer questions in one hour," Dumbledore said, just as Harry was stepping toward the floo.
It penetrated, then, what would have to be done in order to restore the government of the wizarding world. But Harry pushed this aside, grabbed a handful of floo powder, and shouted his urge to leave this place... to go to the Burrow... and check to be sure — completely sure — that Arthur and Molly were all right.
The atmosphere in the Burrow was tight with tension. The more people arrived the more silent the home was. Everyone parted for Dumbledore, who arrived last, to allow him to reach them without hindrance.
Harry's stomach plunged when he caught his first glance at them. They lay side by side on the couch. Fred or George had enlarged it to allow for the space. Their faces waxen, bodies trembling ever so slightly, they looked very gravely ill. Harry felt the wings of some great, dark beast beating in his stomach. He reached out for Ginny and clasped her hand.
Dumbledore began to murmur. It was a spell Harry had never heard before; it sounded more like a song than an incantation. Its effect was immediate: both Weasley parents took in a sharp breath and color flooded their cheeks. The song washed over him like a wave... it sounded nearly like a phoenix...
It was Arthur who opened his eyes first. First, they squeezed tightly shut, and a sigh pushed out of his lips. Then his eyes blinked open. Harry's stomach plunged when he saw how blank they were. Ginny's fingernails dug into his skin, piercing it. Then—
"Molly," Arthur said. His voice was hoarse and barely there. His gaze bounced all over the room, passing over each of his sons, his daughter, Dumbledore, and the others. They settled on Molly and he said a word that was part swear and part prayer. "He tortured her," he said. "Molly, please be all right, please be all right." His hands smoothed over her hair.
It was such an intimate scene, Harry had to fight the urge to look away. Instead, he shifted his weight to his other foot and focused on the pain of Ginny's nails digging into his skin.
Molly did not keep them waiting. She sat up with a gasp. "Arthur! Arthur!"
"I'm here," said Arthur. "I'm here, Molly."
And without care that anyone else was in the room, they flung their arms around each other and squeezed each other. Arthur was frantic in pulling her closer to him. There were waves of murmurs from both and minutes had to have passed before Bill cleared his throat to gain their attention.
Then he cleared it again.
It was Dumbledore, however, who finally got their attention. "Arthur. Molly," he said. His voice was very grave. He had conjured a goblet, and thick steam lifted from whatever potion was inside it. "I will need you both to drink this."
"Dumbledore?" Arthur said, confused.
Harry's stomach clenched. The worst had not happened. Arthur was in charge of himself and of his magic. He had not suffered as Weatherby had, but what if—
"Yes, I am here," said Dumbledore. "This will help."
Arthur lifted the goblet to his lips and took a sip. Then, making a face, he said, "Ghastly." He sounded so much like Ron that warm relief slashed through Harry.
Molly took a sip as well, but exhibited more tolerance toward the stuff than Arthur had.
"Do you remember what has happened?" asked Dumbledore.
"What happened?" Molly said.
"Just give me a moment," said Arthur.
"Mum…" Ginny said. Her voice broke on the quiet whisper. "Dad."
Harry pulled her hand out of his grip and instead wrapped his arms around her. Neither of her parents had heard her, but Harry had heard the torture in her tone. Her whole body shivered in his grip. What if there's permanent damage? What if they're scattered… bewildered… forever?
"It was Crouch," Arthur said slowly. "Wasn't it? I was in my office and Crouch came up and – he looked quite upset. Deranged." He cast a bewildered look around him. "He used the Cruciatus on me? On Molly?"
"I was worried when you didn't come home for lunch," said Molly. "Wasn't like you not to send along a patronus. So when I still hadn't heard from you by five, I went looking. Didn't I?' Her chin firmed. "Yes, yes, I must have done." She shuddered. "Oh, Merlin, Arthur, I was so scared when I saw you."
They looked at each other a long time. Their communication was wordless this time, but somehow managed to convey how much they loved each other.
Harry's arms tightened around Ginny.
"It wasn't Crouch, Dad," said Bill. "From what I gather, though there are some here who know better than I"—at this, he gave Harry and Ginny an appraising, almost cold look—"Crouch had been keeping his own son prisoner. The situation got away from him and his son became the captor."
"His son," said Arthur. "Crouch had a son." It wasn't quite a question.
"He used a variant of the Fidelius to make us forget," said Dumbledore. "By he, I mean, of course, Bartemius Crouch Sr. He did it to cover the knowledge of his son's terrible crimes."
"I remember," Arthur said slowly. His face was abstracted. "Someone was screaming about it… He tortured Frank and Alice Longbottom, did he? How…"
At some point, Crouch Jr. must have taunted the Weasley parents. Perhaps it is best they don't seem to remember all of it, Harry thought. Revulsion trickled through him at the thought of what Crouch Jr. had done to them. Perhaps it would be better all around if they never remembered the whole of what had happened to them. What purpose would it serve if they remembered every detail of their own torture?
"He was gleeful," Molly said, breaking into Harry's thoughts. "He was gleeful. He spoke of murdering his own father. He bragged on it, saying he had wanted to do it since he was a child…"
"And in the same breath, complained his father never knew him. Not truly."
"The former Minister was many things," Dumbledore said quietly. "But had he known of his son's true depravity…"
"He would have locked him up in the basement?" Fred suggested bitterly. "Before he tortured people?"
Fred's voice broke some sort of unspoken agreement to remain silent and allow their parents quiet to recover. He spoke, then Percy spoke, then all the Weasley brothers were expressing exactly what Crouch Sr. could do to himself and his son. The only quiet was Harry standing with Ginny, watching every flicker of expression crossing Arthur and Molly's faces. The clamor rose to a dull roar.
"—how dare he use the – use the Cruciatus," George said. His face was a violent red. "He could have – you could have been—"
"It was not truly terrible until after Molly was taken by him," said Arthur.
"And even then, not until—"
Molly's words stopped abruptly, and her gaze swung around the room and came to rest on Ginny. Formidable intelligence and fire built in the brown eyes. Arthur, catching his wife's mood, or perhaps his memory was following the same trajectory, too turned to look at Ginny.
"He wanted Ginny," Molly said.
"He was mad, of course, but he was lucid when he… questioned us about you, Ginny," said Arthur. "The Longbottoms were tortured into insanity long before you were even born… he was imprisoned by his father before you were even born. I could not understand why he was so deranged about you."
"Deranged is the right word," said Molly. "It was as though you were Dumbledore to his V-Voldemort. He thought you his enemy, Ginny."
Curiosity, expectation, and impending doom sizzled in the atmosphere of the room. The Weasley brothers exchanged looks, shifted their weight from foot to foot, and flushed red. Bill folded his arms and stared at Ginny in exactly the same manner that their parents did.
"She was his enemy," he said. "Mum… Dad. Ginny was his enemy."
Ginny sighed, and it felt to Harry that all the air went out of her body. "Bill's right, I was his enemy," she said in a low voice. Then she squared her shoulders and looked her parents straight in the eye. "It was inadvertent at first. I had no idea who he was or what he had done and what his plans were. But he has been – had been doing things all along and I was… circling his secret in ways that eventually made him notice me."
"Circling… his secret," Arthur said. It was clear from his tone that he was struggling to absorb this. "You were circling his secret. How in Merlin's name were you circling his secret?" He gestured from himself to Molly. "How in Merlin's name did our daughter come to circle a deranged dark wizard's secret?"
"Our daughter, who works with kneazles," said Molly. Her face was set and white.
"That appears to be fictional," said Percy.
"I don't work with kneazles," said Ginny. She squared her shoulders and it was suddenly as though Harry were holding onto a warm, stiff board. "I work for The Turnip. I'm the Seeker. So I… so I…" She spread her hands. "It happens that sometimes, sometimes I… circle these types of things."
Her parents stared at her with utter disbelief.
Harry's gaze flicked to Dumbledore, who still stood, steaming potion in hand. His face was very grave but there was a newborn smile hidden in the backs of his eyes. It extinguished at Molly's next words.
"You work for The Turnip," Molly said. Her eyes widened with puzzlement. "You're the Seeker?" It was as though this was too big to comprehend for her, bigger, even, than her own torture at the wand of Barty Crouch Jr.
"The Seeker?" Arthur echoed.
Ginny's eyes fluttered closed and she nodded. "Yes," she said quietly. "I am so sorry. I never meant any of this to happen. I didn't realize – we didn't know how dangerous he was. I put you in danger. Mum, Dad… I'm so sorry."
Her parents simply stared at her.
"What I want to know is how, exactly, you've been the Seeker all this time." It was Bill's voice that cracked out like a whip.
"I just…" Ginny said. "I'm – I'm sorry it touched you. I'm sorry I was careless. I know you don't understand…"
"Ginny," Arthur said, sounding stronger than he had since he woke up. "Don't you realize your mother and I agonized over joining the Order of the Phoenix, knowing it would put you in danger? That it would make you a target for our enemies? And even when we made the choice, sometimes the guilt of it tore us apart. Your mother especially. It was agony. We told ourselves we were fighting so you could have a brighter future. So don't stand there and pretend that we don't understand that sometimes our decisions place our loved ones in danger." Breathing rapidly, he sank back onto the cushions. His face turned grey and Dumbledore handed him the steaming potion. This time, he took it without complaint.
"You kept your entire self from us for years," said Molly. Her face was a washed out grey again. "Years, Ginny. You've been doing this for years…"
"I feel like I don't even know you," Arthur managed.
"Dad…" Ron broke in for the first time. "She just saved all our lives."
"Ginny," Molly said, ignoring Ron. "I wish you'd had the courage to tell us who you were."
The words weren't entirely fair, Harry thought. From the way they'd all coddled her, Harry knew Ginny hadn't felt like she'd had much of a choice. But the Weasley parents were looking at Ginny as though they had never quite seen her before. Ginny's shoulders were still square, but she was trembling nearly as much as her mother.
"Not to mention Harry's involvement in all of this," said Arthur.
"He was August Peverell all this time," Bill said helpfully.
"I sent him undercover to work for Ginny – though I did not know it at the time," said Dumbledore. "I have suspected the identity of the Seeker for quite a while."
"You knew?" Molly said. A ghost of her old energy provided the outrage.
"I suspected," said Dumbledore.
Molly turned a bitter glance at her daughter. "Even Dumbledore knows you better than I do," she said. Then her face crumpled and she covered it with shaking hands. "Ginny, I… that was cruel of me."
"It's all right," Ginny said.
Harry looked at her, alarmed to see tears streaming down her face.
"I always knew you would be upset," continued Ginny. "Putting myself in danger like that… I knew you would…" Her voice trailed off. The room was so silent Harry would've been able to hear a pin drop. It seemed even the ghoul in the attic, who normally could not stand the quiet, was waiting with bated breath to find out what would happen. "I knew you would be angry. And I'm angry with myself, for being careless, for not considering your safety. For placing you in danger." She swallowed. "I don't think I'll ever forgive myself."
Arthur sighed. His eyes sank closed and the muscles in his cheek jumped. He had just been tortured, but managed to say: "It is not your job or the danger it's involved. For us. For your mother. You were supposed to be working with kneazles."
"You lied to us about your whole life," said Molly. "We didn't even know who you were."
"We don't know who you are," said Arthur.
"My parents and all of my brothers fought against Voldemort," said Ginny. There was a bright thread of anger in her tone. "Even some of my cousins did. Every single person in this room has put fear aside and fought against darkness. That's part of what being a Weasley is. It's what you've raised us to be, Dad. But what am I? Too young, too female to believe in the same things you do?"
"Ginny—" began Bill.
"Shut up, Bill," she snarled, then swung back to her parents. "What was I, adopted? Raised by different parents? How is it so much of a surprise to you that I followed in your lead?"
"It isn't," said Molly.
"It's a surprise that you lied," said Arthur.
Silence swelled and billowed. No one spoke after that. Ginny and her parents continued to stare at each other. All three were fighting to reach a common ground, but none of them could, Harry realized. It didn't help how awful Arthur and Molly looked. And looking worse by the second. It wasn't even a surprise when Molly's eyes closed and her head dropped backward.
"Molly?" It was Arthur's alarm that broke the silence.
"You have both been through an ordeal," Dumbledore said gently. "You know that it will take some time to recover. Do you wish to go to St. Mungo's—"
"No," said Harry, before he could stop himself, before he could remind himself that he had no say whatsoever in whatever choice Arthur made for himself and for Molly.
Arthur gave him a fleeting look. "No," he said. "I'd prefer we do our recovery here. In our home."
"We'll help," said Ron. "Whatever it takes."
"You've raised some marvelous children, Arthur," Dumbledore said gravely. "They are all a credit to you."
Arthur's fingers twitched as though he might have reached out toward his daughter. But then he, too, sagged backward and went from awake to asleep as though by magic. Panic surged through Harry.
"Are they all right?" he asked. "Are they…?" They had seemed much recovered, but they had slid back to looking near death so swiftly.
"It will be a long road to recovery for them," Dumbledore said. His face fell. "In many ways, it is the killing curse that is the most merciful of the three Unforgivables. But rest assured, they will recover. It will take time and care."
"How – how do we proceed?" Ginny asked.
"I suggest we keep them asleep for the time being," said Dumbledore. "We will rouse them long enough to give them potions… but what they need is a long, healing sleep. A week of it, perhaps two."
"I'm quitting my job," announced Ron. "I'll move back in here and stay with them—"
"I'll help," said Percy.
"We can all help," said George. He gestured between himself and Fred. "We don't both have to be at the store every day. We'll help you, Ron."
Harry expected Ginny to tell them she was helping as well, and there was nothing her brothers could do to stop her. But the more minutes that passed with her a silent shadow nestled against him, the more worried he was. The brothers had a quick argument whether to move their parents to their bedroom or keep them in the sitting room. Ron won this one, and Arthur and Molly were moved with utmost gentleness.
"They'll be more comfortable in their own bed," said Ron.
After that, there was not much more they could do.
"Ginny," Harry said in a low voice. "Can we go home?" He expected her to refuse, but was increasingly worried at her silence and trembling. Arthur and Molly were not the only Weasleys who needed a long period of rest.
She gave him a look and spoke for the first time in nearly an hour: "Yes. Yes, I need a shower. Let's go home."
Harry found her quick agreement nearly as unsettling as her prior silence. But with a few quiet murmurs to the brothers, they were heading out of the sitting room and toward the floo.
HPHPHPHPHPHPHP
They showered together.
Ginny performed a tricky little charm that heated the entire loo and filled it with a woodsy, flowery scent that reminded Harry of that autumn afternoon at the Burrow when he'd hugged her for the first time. Reminded of that, he hugged her as they stood under the spray. His fingers skimmed up her back and she shuddered a little, buried her face against his chest, and started to cry. Harry's arms tightened around her.
"You were amazing today," he told her, after a few minutes. "Everyone made it out…" He didn't need to tell her that it wasn't so often the case. She knew. Dumbledore's words were echoing in his head – In some ways, it is the killing curse that is the most merciful of the Unforgivables – and he was certain she was thinking on them as well.
"They're angry," she said, sniffling a little.
"They are," said Harry.
"They're not… wrong," she said. "I think I could've told them at any point in the last year."
Harry stirred, dabbed his fingers into the little pot of shampoo, and started working it into her hair. Mostly, he massaged her scalp, knowing how much she liked that. "I don't think they're wrong," he said. "But I don't think you were, either."
She shook her head, sighed, and squeezed him a little tighter around the middle. "It's just been a spectacularly awful day," she said. "Just… awful. In every way. Except this."
"Except this," Harry agreed.
Harry lingered over his task of washing her hair, making sure every strand on her head was clean. The tears were still flowing, he knew, and it caused an answering ache in his chest. Ginny's big secret was out and the Weasleys were baffled, angry, and upset. Harry couldn't blame them entirely, but they'd been just as willfully blind as he'd been.
Her face was swollen and splotchy by the time they got out of the shower, dressed, and got into bed. Harry curled around her, breathing in the scent of her hair, and grateful for the warmth of her body as they fell asleep. It didn't take much time before his thoughts melted into dreams… suddenly, he was walking through a dark wood, heart beat loud in his ears, and certain he wasn't alone. Tree branches reached out spidery fingers to him, snatching at him, and Harry was certain something terrible was about to happen—
-then a silvery glow sparked just ahead of him. His fear evaporated; it was Ginny's patronus, walking toward him on delicate little hooves. His heart sped up and he felt a peculiar pain in his midsection. It was so beautiful; in that moment, it was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. Its presence glowed, illuminating the sheltering trees, and Harry sank down into the soft loam—
It took him several moments of blinking rather rapidly before Harry realized he was now, in fact awake, and not staring at Ginny's patronus but at Ginny. Pearly light draped over her, warming her skin, and giving her glowing sort of translucence. His gaze drifted over her, lingering at the tip of her nose, the point of her stubborn chin, and the curve of her lips. That feeling he'd had in his dream was still with him, a pleasant sort of ache, and it was this that had him smoothing his hand over her arm and saying her name until she was waking up.
"Ginny," he said, when she looked at him, befuddled. "Was it always a doe?"
"What?" she said blankly. Then, blinking, she sat up. "What's wrong, is something wrong? Is it Mum and Dad?"
Harry felt momentarily contrite. "No, Ginny, everything's fine. But your patronus. Was it always a doe?" What would it mean if it had been? Had Harry been destined to be with her just as he'd been destined to be the man to defeat Voldemort?
A flush spread over her cheeks and she bit her lip. Since she remained upright, Harry sat up too. His thoughts were reaching out and touching something Harry, who had never been one to dwell on romantic visions, had never once considered. "No," she said. "No, it wasn't always a doe. When I was first using the charm, it was a horse."
"It was your doe with the revenant, not my mum's," Harry said. "So… was it…" It suddenly seemed a rather private question for him to ask, and he could feel heat rising in his own face. "When did you notice it? Was it…?" Had it happened when they'd first kissed? "Was it when we kissed, or…?"
She tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear and gave him a steady, blazing look. Then the corner of her lips lifted. "I guess you aren't going to decide it's too much that your girlfriend's patronus matches yours and run away scared?"
"No," said Harry. "Never."
She glanced away and bit her lip. "It requires a little explanation," she said, a cautious note in her voice.
"I'm listening," he said. A thought struck him. "You don't have to tell me, you know, if you'd rather keep it private…"
"No," she said, shaking her head. "I don't." She took his hand and laced her fingers through his. "I don't know if you remember, but there was a moment when you were… struggling… and I peeked in your room because I was worried, and you—"
"Yelled at you to get out," Harry said, aghast. "That's the moment?"
"That's the moment I knew you had – I didn't know the word for Horcrux, then," she said. "I just knew that ever since the diary, I could feel things. When I talked to Dumbledore about it after the locket was discovered, he still called them memories. Which I suppose after last night isn't entirely untrue," she said. She gave him a look that was part grimace, part smile. "I listened in at the door a lot, you know, and I pieced some things together. The locket had to be destroyed like the diary had to be destroyed…"
"It had to be placed beyond all magical repair," murmured Harry. "He had a lot of them, you know."
"I know," said Ginny. Her fingers squeezed his. "Oddly enough, I found another one at Hogwarts." She shuddered a little. "I felt haunted by them."
Harry gaped at her. "You were the one who found the tiara? Dumbledore never said…" He shook his head.
"I didn't know what it was, just that it had that same feel as the others," she said. Her head tilted. "The same feel I got that night when you were… struggling. I was horrified and then terrified—"
"I'm sorry you had to see that," he assured her.
"I was terrified for you," she said. "I'd heard enough listening at doors to wonder if you didn't have a – a memory of Voldemort murdering your family that was hurting you the way the diary hurt me." Her chin trembled. "I went to Dumbledore. You have to realize I was concerned you were being possessed by one of Voldemort's memories, wrestling with it, and I was hoping Dumbledore would figure out what it was and destroy it. But he just gave me a grave look, didn't answer any of my questions, and told me that having a little knowledge was very dangerous. He taught me Occlumency, you know," she said. "I'd sworn to Dumbledore that I wouldn't say a word, not even to my parents—but Harry, I must've cried for days, not knowing what was going on, why I could feel Voldemort's memory writhing inside you, worried that I was going to lose – worried that you were going to be lost."
"And you don't break your promises," said Harry. That ache had spread further in his body. "So… that was when…?"
"No," she said. "Not then. It was after you defeated Voldemort, and I overheard Ron and Hermione telling Mum and Dad about having to destroy certain objects – the memories, I knew – and it was only then that there was any hope of Voldemort being defeated." She took her hand out of his and brushed her fingertips over his scar. "I don't know what happened when you defeated him, but I had a feeling it wasn't a duel. And I thought it was – even though you were cursed and had such a long recovery – I thought it was a miracle you were alive at all."
"It surprised everyone but Dumbledore," said Harry. "You were right about everything, by the way. When my mother died, she died to keep me safe… it's a powerful charm, you know, and when he then tried to kill me, it backfired on him. But his soul was so fragmented by then that a bit of it latched on to me."
"So…"
"I had to be placed beyond all magical repair," Harry said. "So I let him kill me." Her face paled so rapidly that Harry leaned forward. "It didn't take, obviously," he said quickly. "And it wasn't me he killed, it was the memory. The Horcrux."
She leaned forward and kissed him. It was a hard kiss, and quickly over. "Thank Merlin for that," she said fervently. "But that's what I thought about the first time I made a patronus after you came back, and that's when it was the doe. I had no idea it was going to be different, and it was quite horrifying since half my family was there and they knew immediately that it matched yours. I don't know that I've ever lived through a more embarrassing moment."
"I'm sorry you were embarrassed," Harry said.
Her lips quirked again. "Are you?" she asked.
"That our patronuses match?" Harry asked. "I can't think of anything less embarrassing."
"It still sometimes feels like a dream," Ginny said softly. "When we first started – when you first started returning feelings I was so anxious not to scare you away."
Harry scoffed. "I'm in Gryffindor."
"Yes, Harry, sure, let's go on a date," she chirped in a high voice. "Look, our patronuses match! We'll go out on a date, get married, you'll have my babies—"
Harry was chuckling. "I don't think I'll be the one to have our babies, but—"
Her kiss interrupted him. It was not hard, quick thing. Ginny got in his lap, wrapped herself around him, and kissed him. The ache he'd been feeling since his dream mingled with a sudden surge of desire and it took only moments of feeling her lips on his and her warmth against him before he was needing her. Light filtered through the window and through him as he kissed her. There was no need to explain these difficult details to Ginny; she already understood. He pulled her closer against him, slipping his tongue in her mouth to slide against hers.
She squirmed in his lap and moaned against his lips when he gave her thigh a light squeeze, then pushed aside her shirt. His fingertips skimmed against the warmth of her stomach before they brushed against the underside of her breast. But before he cupped her, there was one thing he needed to do.
"Hold on a moment," he murmured. He lifted her off him and reached down to adjust himself. It was not doing either of them any good trapped halfway under her thigh like that. They both sighed when she moved back and pressed against him.
For long minutes, they kissed each other. It was a powerful feeling: there was nowhere else Harry wanted to be at this moment than in bed with her. There was nothing he'd rather be doing. And he could sense by the fervency in her kiss and the patience with which she touched him that she felt the same. "I could make love to you all day," Harry said, voice raspy, during a brief lull in the kissing as they tugged on each other's shirts. "There's nothing else I want to be doing."
"Oh, Harry," Ginny said. "You have no idea."
Harry pulled back, a spark of competition igniting in his chest. "Is that the way it's going to be?" he asked, a chuckle escaping with his words. "You already win at who loves who more?"
"What? No!"
"Our children will feel bad for poor, blind Dad, I think," said Harry. He moved as he spoke, tumbling her onto her back, and tugging down her pajama bottoms and knickers with a few firm strokes. "And you've got a leg up on me, to be sure," he said. She opened her thighs for him, and Harry settled his shoulders between them. "You understood me so well so long before I really looked at you." He pressed a kiss against her red curls. "I'll have to be properly worshipful, it seems."
"Harry!" Ginny laughed with him.
The laughter crystallized around them, and that ache was back again, easily distinguished even from the desire thrumming through him. She was up on her elbows, looking down at him with a smile and a blazing look in her eye. "I feel very loved," Harry said. "I want you to feel the same."
Her fingers brushed through his hair. "I do," she said. "But it isn't a competition."
Harry pressed another kiss against her. "That doesn't sound like the Ginny I know and love." Her scent was wrapping around him, making it difficult to think. "But we can argue about that later… I have some seeking to do…"
His lips and tongue made their way from the inside of her upper thigh, glided over the delicate bones, and licked along the edge of her folds. The muscles of her thighs tightened and relaxed, making Harry smile. His fingers took a similar path; he opened her with them, breathing in deeply, and tickled the tiny nub at the top.
"Ahhhhh," she sighed.
The room was light enough that Harry could see her growing more aroused. He took his time, watched her flush with need, feeling his own rise as he did so. "You're so beautiful," he said quietly.
"So are you," said Ginny.
Harry played with her until her hips began to rise to meet his touch. His fingers returned to her clit, rubbing lightly, reveling in her scent wrapping around him and her moans drifting down her stomach to his ears.
"Harry?"
"Hmm?"
"Weren't you going to... you know?"
He looked past the pale smoothness of her stomach, lingered on the undersides of her breasts and her dusky rose nipples — he would need to taste them later — and finally caught her eyes. They were heavy-lidded and hot.
"I'm not in a hurry," he said.
"Well, I kind of am," she told him. "But go on. Enjoy your playtime."
He chuckled and circled her clit with his finger. She let out a ragged breath and collapsed against the bed just as he tucked a finger inside her. I love this, he thought. For long moments, he indulged himself, arousing her slowly with his fingers.
It wasn't until her hips bucked upward that Harry pressed his lips against her and found her clit with his tongue. Her ragged breaths turned into ragged cries, and it wasn't long before he felt her quiver and jerk and say his name in a way that felt like a direct touch to his penis. Still, he didn't pull away, but gentled his touch. There was a rhythm to Ginny and he followed it until she was still under his lips and tongue.
At the same time that he looked up at her, he reached down to stroke himself. "I love it when you come," he told her.
It was his thought that he would make love to her, but Ginny had other plans. With an energy that never failed to surprise him – how does she have so much energy after an orgasm – she sat up, twisted around, and without any warning sucked him into her mouth. Strands of her red hair clung to her cheeks, and when she looked up at him her brown eyes were blazing.
Harry could only stand a minute or two of this. "Ginny," he said urgently. "Ginny, I need to be inside you." Pressure was building in his back, but his instincts were clamoring at him that he needed to finish inside her, not in her mouth.
Her mouth lifted off him and she straddled him in one fluid motion. Panting, Harry looked down to where their bodies touched. Touched, but not joined. Then she was adjusting that, sliding down onto him. Her heat enveloped him, and he growled low in his throat. His eyes half-shut, he watched her ride him with short, brisk movements that were going to get him to finish.
And then he did, spilling heat into her, groaning from the pleasure and effort, and wanting nothing more than to rewind the last few minutes and live them again so he could enjoy being inside her longer… to try to get her to finish with him.
"Sorry," he said, once he'd caught his breath.
"For?" she said. She collapsed on top of him, a boneless weight across his chest.
"You – could've finished again," he said.
She stretched and looked at him. He was still inside her, little pulses of pleasure still going through his entire body. The look in her eyes made him twitch again.
"Weren't we going to spend the day making love?" asked Ginny. "It can be my turn next time."
HPHPHPHPHPHPHP
It wasn't snowing, for once. Cold wind blew, but it was dry and the sun peeked out from behind grey, wintry clouds. They had their arms around each other as they walked up the long path to Hogwarts, though, and Harry was plenty warm.
"—Ron says they're doing better," said Ginny.
Harry did not point out that he had been in the room when Ron had told her this. Arthur and Molly were still kept asleep. The day after, when everyone had been feeling slightly more sane, Dumbledore had outlined what their recovery would look like. Madame Pomfrey came as well. Ron, true to his word, had quit his job for the Knight Bus and he and Hermione had moved into the attic room at the Burrow.
So many changes in just a short amount of time.
"Barty Crouch," Harry muttered.
Ginny squeezed his waist. They were mostly silent the rest of the way to Hogwarts and into the Forbidden Forest. There were a few quiet murmurs, but other than that the wind in the trees and the slap of the meat pail against his thigh were the only sounds. It had been a week since the events at the Ministry.
Cutting a glance at her, Harry thought of how grave she had been since the Burrow. Not when they made love – which she wanted to do with greater frequency than normal, not that Harry was complaining. He could get used to being inside her a few times a day. She was bright and loving and wonderful when they were being intimate with each other, but grave and almost withdrawn at other times.
Neither one of them had gone to the turnip church. The one time Harry had suggested it, she'd just pressed her lips together and shook her head. Everyone needed time to recover, but Harry was beginning to worry that this wasn't about recovery. And when he saw Ginny with the thestral – an activity he'd suggested after a particularly wonderful bit of love-making – he realized exactly why he was concerned.
"I think…" Harry said, then stopped. Then he moved to stand next to Ginny as she fed the thestral. "I think we've got to move beyond this. Let's not stay there in the moment, where your parents tell you they don't know you." He ran his fingers through his hair, regretting almost immediately that he'd jumped right into the conversation.
Her hands stilled. "You're saying I'm stuck?"
"No," said Harry, grateful she hadn't needed much context. "But I think you've been walking on eggshells the last week, and that isn't like you."
"They're my parents," she said. Despite the fact she'd raised her voice, the thestral didn't turn away. "They don't know who I am. And I—"
"You're Ginny fucking Weasley," interrupted Harry. "Their feelings were hurt and when they wake up, they'll be worried, I'm sure. They were stuck thinking of you as a little girl for so long that they were in shock… not just because of the torture. They were stuck. But ever since I've got to know you, I've realized that you just… balance being so compassionate with people who are stuck – like me, like this baby here – with moving forward as yourself."
"You think I should move forward?"
"Not without them," said Harry.
The thestral was forgotten. Ginny looked at him. Her eyes were wide and vulnerable and tears gathered at the corners. "It's just so hard with them asleep… with nothing resolved. And I was angry with them. How could I have been angry with them after what they'd been through?"
"You hate it when people coddle you," Harry pointed out.
"If I had let them coddle me a bit more, if I was the Ginny they knew, they wouldn't have been tortured," she said.
"And we would have a threat no one knew about and no one could see coming," said Harry. He took her upper arms in her grip, stroking lightly with his thumbs. "Don't get stuck blaming yourself, trust me, it's a terrible place to be."
"I know," she said. A tear gathered on her eyelashes. "I know it is. But I can't help but—"
"I know you're running everything that happened through in your mind," said Harry.
"At least one person knows me," said Ginny.
"They're going to get to know you, you know," said Harry. "It's hard, isn't it? Because they're asleep still? But you're right. I do know you. You aren't going to let them get stuck thinking they don't know their own daughter – especially when you're so much like them: brave, kind, wonderful." A thought struck him. "You know… you could write it for them."
"Write what?" Ginny asked blankly.
"Your story," Harry said simply. "How it began. How it made you feel. Why you kept it from them."
"Write a story?" Ginny said, as though she had never heard of such a thing before.
Harry quirked his eyebrow at her, and was rewarded with a fleeting grin.
"All right, that was a little ridiculous," said Ginny. "But a story. About everything."
"What better way for them to get to know the Seeker?" Harry prodded. "You want them to know you, yes?"
"Yes, I – yes," said Ginny. Her eyes were swimming in tears now. "I never want my parents to look at me like they don't know who I am when I'm just being who they raised me to be."
"Then show them that," Harry suggested. "They'll have to adjust their view of you, but they love you. They'll love you even more, I think, because it'll be you they love."
"And not the little girl they seem to think I am?" Ginny asked.
Harry raised a second eyebrow at this.
"You're right, that was unfair," said Ginny.
"Not entirely, but…"
"But I'm going to have to let that go," she said. With that, she wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tight.
There, even under the canopy of the Forbidden Forest, which created a perpetual twilight Harry felt as though a sudden light had been turned on. Certainty hit him that Ginny wouldn't let the resentment fester. She would find a way to find that common ground with her parents.
Abruptly, she pulled away. "You know, I'm not even sure if they figured out we're together."
"You'll have to put that in the story of Ginny Weasley, Seeker, as well," Harry said.
A wicked little laugh escaped her. "That will make the story a hell of a lot sexier than I think my parents would appreciate," she said.
"Well, don't tell them about all that," Harry said.
"Harry spread my legs and dipped his head between them… I had never been so grateful for the existence of magical tents in my life."
His stomach swooped and his penis twitched. "Absolutely do not write that," Harry said firmly. A thought struck him. "Unless I'm the only one who gets to read it."
"Of course I won't let anyone else read it," Ginny said, grinning. "But I might write it."
At nearly the same moment, they both turned toward the path that would lead them out of the Forbidden Forest. The grave, withdrawn Ginny was gone. Instead, she teased him nearly all the way to Hogwarts about all the details of their private life she was going to write. "Not in front of Hagrid!" Harry protested half-heartedly as they neared Hagrid's statue. In fact, a part of him was straining to hear exactly how much Ginny'd liked it the first time he'd taken her from behind.
To his disappointment, Ginny did stop tormenting him with her heated words. She stopped directly in front of the statue and took his hands. Her whole affect had brightened. "It's going to be all right, Harry," she said.
"I know it is," said Harry.
The smile she offered him was almost shy – absurd, considering what she'd been talking about the entire way out of the forest. "Have I mentioned lately how glad I am that you chose to allow Dumbledore to talk you into joining The Turnip?"
"Not as glad as I am," said Harry. "Despite how much of a dilemma it was at times… I'm so very grateful."
HPHPHPHPHP
Author's Note: And so ends the fic.
Obviously, it looks like I am leaving one major thing dangling. What will happen to the relationship with Ginny and her parents? But that's a story about Ginny, and showing that from Harry's POV would have been much to difficult to properly tell. But I don't want to leave it hanging forever, so I will be doing some work set in this AU. So while it's over… it's not truly over.
I hope you enjoyed it!
Thank you to the discord, who has been very supportive.
And an extra thanks to lilyevansjan30, who has been brilliant as beta and sounding board. This one is dedicated to you (the whole fic, not the chapter). Thanks for everything.