Love is walking holding paint-stained hands
Love is."
"Love is": Adrian HenriThe golden sunbeams of late summer stretched lazily into the seventh year boys' dormitory, casting dappled patches of light across the dark wooden floor and up the wall beside Harry's bed. The sound of early morning birds twittering somewhere in the vicinity of the window, penetrated Harry's drowsy brain. He blinked sleepily, and rolled onto his back, stretching luxuriously the full length of the bed and relishing the sensation. The sky was lightening to a clear blue, perfect for Quidditch, and he had every intention of putting his team through their paces later in the day. There was a grunting snore from Neville. Harry grinned sleepily. It was good to be back.
His mind wandered vaguely over his conversation with Dumbledore the previous evening, after the Sorting and the feast. He had suppressed a shudder as he had entered the headmaster's circular office; his previous visit had been last March when he had been half-carried in there, bleeding profusely from the wound sliced deeply into the top of his arm, and in so much pain elsewhere he couldn't stand. The barely conscious blurred nightmare of that experience haunted him still, even though the broken bones and injured body had healed long ago. Ginny had understood last night, guiding him into a chair with gentle hands, and perching protectively on the arm beside him, to face Dumbledore together. The conversation had been tense and spoken quickly in low voices for fear of detection.
Harry shifted in bed, sitting up slightly to punch his pillows before settling down once more, to the thought of Dumbledore's bright blue eyes seeming grave, as he had listened to them steadily outlining their plans. Dumbledore had looked unwaveringly at them with the penetrating gaze Harry knew so well, appearing to be carefully weighing up the matter. At the mention of a Halloween wedding, he had got to his feet, and bent carefully over a complicated astrological model by the window, muttering various incantations, and making the coloured planets rotate on their axis. Harry had watched as he frowned over it, examining everything in microscopic detail, tilting his venerable head this way and that. Finally he had sighed heavily, and resumed his seat behind the desk, expressing anxiety about Voldemort in the interim, but agreeing with their plans, commenting that the planetary alignments were very favourable for that date.
Harry hugged his pillow tightly to him, recollecting Dumbledore's stern warnings, that everything must appear as normal, whatever sacrifices they had to make. He pulled a wry face, remembering that they had promised to keep to their own dormitories, even after the marriage, to avoid suspicion. It was not what he had imagined, but if it kept Ginny safe, then it was definitely worth doing, and besides, she had to make far more sacrifices than he did. For Ginny, even Hogsmeade visits were out of the question once the baby was on the way, and problems needed to be dealt with in the study of certain subjects. Ginny's face had been quite a picture when Dumbledore had indicated that it would be inadvisable to attempt personal transfiguration, due to possible adverse affect of her shape changing on the baby. Transfiguration was by far her favourite subject, and the one at which she excelled. His mind roamed back over the conversation and the complexities of the matter.
"So what am I meant to do?" Ginny had demanded, nettled by this unforeseen problem. "Not doing Transfiguration is hardly carrying on as normal, is it? What's Professor McGonagall going to say?"
"I would suggest we let Professor McGonagall know the truth of the matter," Dumbledore said thoughtfully. "She is your Head of House, after all, and in a perfect position to keep an eye on you and your well being." His eyes twinkled gently at Ginny's outraged face. "In the meantime, to avoid suspicion, I suggest you begin a more specialised advanced course of Transfiguration in class time; a theoretical study of Animagi for this year. Next year, we will see about letting you put that into practise, as well as your N.E.W.T.s work. Would that be a reasonable compromise?"
"Yes," Ginny gasped in excitement. "That would be… it would be incredible! You'd let me do that? Really?"
"Yes," Dumbledore had chuckled gently. "Unless Professor McGonagall has any objections, you most certainly appear have the aptitude for it. We have run advanced courses for certain students before, so it is unlikely to arouse any suspicion."
"Like Hermione in Arithmancy?" Harry asked.
"Exactly like Hermione," Dumbledore responded warmly, leaning back in his chair once more.
"Hang on a moment," Ginny said slowly, a frown furrowing her brow. "If I can't do Transfiguration, then how am I going to hide the pregnancy from everyone?"
"I would suggest a Charm of Illusion." Dumbledore reached onto the shelf behind him for a slender volume with light-coloured leather binding, and offered it to her. "They're easy to perform, and well within your capabilities."
"So how do they work?" Harry said quickly, leaning over to see the book in Ginny's hands. "I've heard of them before, but never seen one done."
"It's almost like your invisibility cloak, Harry," Dumbledore explained, smiling gently. "This spell creates an illusion that things are much the same as they have always been, so Ginny will appear to be exactly the same as you see her now. However, like your invisibility cloak, the reality can be felt. This charm won't affect the baby at all."
"I can do that," Ginny said, firmly. She chuckled rather unexpectedly, and added, "I just need to be careful about who I run into in a few months time, that's all."
There was a short pause, and Harry reached for Ginny's hand.
"Professor," Harry said uncertainly, looking at the genial face. "There is one other thing…" This had been bothering him since Dumbledore's visit to The Burrow at the end of July. He gripped Ginny's hand more tightly, knowing that she wouldn't like what he was about to ask, and pressed on. "You know what happened to my mum and dad?" Dumbledore nodded thoughtfully and gestured for Harry to continue. "I don't want that to happen to Ginny. If… If Voldemort does come after us, I want her to be able to get out of there somehow, and the baby too. I know she's not old enough, but surely some sort of exception can be made to let her Apparate?"
"Harry!" Ginny exclaimed, sounding completely scandalised by the very suggestion. She twisted on the arm of the chair to face him, breathing very unsteadily. "I couldn't leave you anywhere with… with him. You can't ask me to do that. I won't. No way."
"Ginny, you're going to have to," Harry insisted emphatically. He wasn't prepared to argue with her on this matter. "There is no way I'm having you or the baby in that sort of danger, not knowing we can make other arrangements."
"No!" she cried, dark brown eyes gazing into his own, desperately seeking for him to relent.
"The baby, Ginny," he said with increasing emotion. "If it happens we've got to get him out of there, and I don't want our child to grow up the way I had to. If you can Apparate out of there, you've got to."
"Ginny will be unable to Apparate," Dumbledore interrupted quietly, before things became even more heated. Harry stopped dead and looked at him curiously. "It's too dangerous whilst she is pregnant and afterwards, Apparition is only possible for one person, so she would be unable to take the child with her. You must have wondered why your mother didn't do that with you?"
"I… I s'pose," Harry said slowly, his brain whirling round in circles. "I still want them out of there though, not trapped... not with Voldemort."
"We always travelled by Floo Powder when I was small," Ginny offered somewhat reluctantly.
"There's no guarantee you'll be anywhere near a fireplace," Harry said despondently. "Anyway, you skin your elbows as it is. Can you imagine travelling that way with a baby in your arms?"
"Might I make a suggestion?" Dumbledore said gently. "A port key would make most sense in this particular scenario. Perhaps some object that Ginny could carry with her, to transport them back to The Burrow if she saw fit. It would be safest and quickest, and something we really should have thought of for your mother and you all those years ago, Harry." The sadness in Dumbledore's expression struck Harry forcefully, the lines creasing around the blueness of his intelligent eyes, made him seem weary as if he had seen this pain far too many times before.
Harry closed his own eyes and sighed heavily to himself, the warmth of his bed losing some of its pleasure. This was far more complicated and dangerous than even he had envisioned, but what else could they do? Like Ginny, he had every intention of making the most of these last few weeks, and that was going to start with Quidditch that very evening. Harry was proud of the fact that Gryffindor had won every single house cup they had competed in since he had arrived at the school, and his final year was going to be no different, not if he had anything to say about it. Despite the increase in threats from the Death Eaters, Harry had been relieved to discover that Quidditch practises were still permitted before curfew, under the watchful eye of Madam Hooch. Harry had booked a session immediately; after all the stresses and strains of the past few weeks, a rigorous training session leaving him on the brink of exhaustion was just what he needed.
Stepping some time later into the vastness of the Great Hall from the bright sunshine in the entrance hall, Harry cast his eyes around. The blueness of the sky, with the merest wisps of clouds drifting like smoke, lifted his mood almost at once. The warmth of the Indian summer was wonderful, seeming somehow to envelop him in a sensation of security, despite the increase in Dark activity beyond the grounds. He headed across to the Gryffindor table, seeing Ron, Hermione and Ginny already chatting over breakfast, noticing with a slight lurch of his stomach that his observations at King's Cross Station, and in the half-light of the feast, had indeed been correct. There were certainly far fewer students lining the long house tables than usual, gaps clearly evident in the rows. He settled himself down next to Ginny and helped himself to some toast before the timetables were passed down towards them. Harry quickly scanned through it and pulled a wry face at Ron.
"It's Potions first," he commented bleakly. Ron glanced down at his own copy and his face fell immediately as he saw the horrors in store.
"Herbology; that's not so bad. Care of Magical Creatures," he read.
"Wonder what Hagrid's got in store for us now?" Harry chuckled, knowing full well that Hagrid would have found some new hybrid of monster to mummy over the holidays. None of them could forget the wyvern he had acquired for them once; a very vicious dragon-like creature, who shot green jets of savage flame over thirty feet and had set most members of the class alight at one point or another. Even Hermione, who usually tried to look at things from a stoical academic point of view, had refused to go anywhere near it after it had narrowly missed her with a slash from its lethally barbed tail.
"And then…" Ron began, his face taking on an almost comical depair. He looked at Harry.
"Divination," they proclaimed, united in dismay.
Hermione snorted, and reached for another slice of toast, carefully studying her own rather complex timetable and frowning.
"I can foresee… Oh it is too terrible… Oh my poor dear boy," Ginny announced theatrically in her best misty voice, clutching tightly at Harry's arm, eyes widening to appear almost as large as Trelawney's. Ron spluttered his tea across the table.
"So what exactly can you see in your tea leaves this morning, oh wise one?" Harry teased.
"I can see that you're about to pass me that jug of orange juice," Ginny smiled, nodding down the table towards it. Harry leaned over and gave it to her, chuckling madly.
"It's amazing," he said in mock-wonder. "Your predictions are just so accurate Miss Weasley. How do you do it? Let me into your secret, I beg you!"
"Natural talent, I suppose," she giggled, pouring herself a juice. She grinned at Harry, making his heart somersault.
"Don't look now, Ginny," Hermione said suddenly in a warning undertone. "Your fan club is on their way over."
"No!" she exclaimed, twisting in her seat and seeing that it was undeniably true. Four small second year boys were heading across the hall with eager expressions. They had been somewhat smitten with Ginny since last November, when she had rescued them from a classroom where they were being terrorised by Peeves, and followed her adoringly around the place at every opportunity. Harry turned to tease her about their undying affection, just in time to see a whirl of black robes and flaming red hair disappear beneath the great wooden table.
"Er, Gin?" he chuckled, feeling her bumping against his legs.
"I'm not here," she hissed, as the boys approached the Gryffindor end of the room, and came to a halt right behind Ron and Hermione.
"Um… excuse me…" the tallest of the four boys said nervously, running a hand through his hair.
"Yes Philip?" Ron replied, sighing in exasperation. His little sister's lower school admiration society had been the bane of his life for most of last year. "What can I do for you today?"
"Well… er… we… we thought we saw your sister here before," a tiny brown-haired boy squeaked, tremoring slightly.
"Ginny?" Harry asked innocently, glancing around the hall. He suppressed a chuckle as he felt Ginny tugging angrily on his robes. "Well, I certainly don't see her anywhere. Do you?"
"No," the boy responded, looking extremely downcast and riddled with disappointment.
"Did you want her for anything special?" Hermione interjected kindly, as one of the boys looked as if he were about to burst into floods of tears at the slightest provocation.
"Well, yes," the tall blonde one added, with a sense of self-importance. "It was because we're starting up a Muggle poetry club and we wondered if she'd help us, or be our patron or something." He blushed furiously and added, "We think she's smashing." Harry bit his lip to stop himself from laughing out loud at the sensation of Ginny banging her forehead repeatedly against his knee in disbelief.
"I'm sure she would love to help you out," Ron chuckled wickedly. "Ow!" he yelped suddenly, much to the bewilderment of the four younger boys. "Er… I banged my leg on the table. Sorry," he explained quickly, massaging the injured area.
"I think you should ask Ginny," Hermione said tactfully, trying to soothe the matter. "She can't have gone far. Have you tried the library?"
"No," the tiny brown-haired boy replied, beginning to sound excited once more. His voice grew more and more high-pitched. "Do you really think she'll be there? Thank you! Thank you! Come on you lot, let's go and find her."
They clattered across the Great Hall in a stampede of exuberance, into the bright sunshine of the foyer beyond, at which point, Harry reached under the table and hauled Ginny out. She re-emerged looking rather flustered and dishevelled and very pink in the face.
"Poor kids," Harry teased her gently. "I'd have thought that you of all people would have remembered what having a massive crush was like."
"Yeah, I do," Ginny laughed, flushing even more furiously. "How could I ever forget? But there are four of them, and you were embarrassed enough with just me. Imagine having Philip, Benet, Marcus and Astor springing out at you from every corner of the castle."
"I suppose they're not half as attractive as my fan club," Harry laughed, winking at her; her eyes twinkled up at him and the romance of the moment was shattered by a vomiting noise emanating from Ron.
"Not at breakfast," he protested, scraping his chair back and getting to his feet. Hermione followed suit, rummaging under the table for her over laden school bag.
"Come on then," she urged, glancing at her watch. "Let's get down there. We can't give Snape an excuse to take points off us on the first day."
"Do we have to go?" Ron moaned, pulling a face at her. "I know you've got the Head Girl image to keep up and everything, but can't we just miss it, just this once?"
"No way!" she exclaimed. "Snape or no Snape, you're going to need these lessons to pass your N.E.W.T.s, Ron."
"So, what have you got, Gin?" Harry enquired as they approached the marble staircase that was to separate them. The high arched windows of the room drenched them in sunshine, and Ginny hair glittered and bounced energetically with a myriad of colours.
"Charms," she said cheerfully. "I've not got a bad day on the whole, to be honest."
Harry glanced around quickly to make sure they were unobserved, and then bent and muttered in her ear.
"Ginny, can you do me a copy of your timetable, please? You know, just in case."
She glanced quizzically at him and nodded thoughtfully, darting up to kiss him quickly on the cheek.
"I will," she whispered. "And can I have yours? You know," she smiled. "Just in case."
They separated, rather reluctantly, and Ginny headed slowly up the ornate beauty of the white marble staircase. Harry turned to catch up with Ron and Hermione, who were waiting patiently for him at the mouth to the cold, dark underground warren of passageways that twisted down to the dungeons. They were just about to descend and be engulfed by muffled echoes when a final noise reached their ears, making them collapse into helpless fits of laughter; a shrieking of high-pitched tones squealing, "Ginny!" and a torrent of footsteps hammering up the stairs above them.