"Here is the man with three staves, and here the Wheel,
And here is the one-eyed merchant, and this card,
Which is blank, is something he carries on his back,
Which I am forbidden to see. I do not find
The Hanged Man. Fear death by water."
-T.S. Eliot: "The Wasteland"
Rain clouds loomed heavily overhead, swirling ominously across the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall, filling the place with an oppressive tension as they waited for the storm to break. Spearing a sausage with savagery, Harry wished the storm would get a move on; Ginny had been in a vile temper all morning, and the heaviness of the day wasn't helping. He glanced anxiously across to where she was sitting next to Hermione, playing moodily with her mashed potato.
Frowning slightly, he wondered what he could do to help. His attempts so far had met with furious resistance and he was quite at a loss as to how to proceed. Ginny had been somewhat prone to bursting into inexplicable floods of tears lately at the slightest provocation, and the last thing he wanted to do was upset her more than she was already. It wasn't good for either her or the baby. Perhaps he should reach across for her hand? That couldn't do any harm, could it?
His reverie was rudely interrupted by a swift kick on the ankle. His head jerked suddenly away from Ginny in the direction of the attack, only to see Ron and Hermione tearing their gazes away from one another with irrepressible smiles and ever deepening blushes.
"Sorry," Hermione apologised, turning even redder. "I… er…"
"Got the wrong ankle?" Harry suggested innocently.
"Something like that," she confessed.
"You mean to tell me you've been playing footsy with Harry?" Ron said in mock-horror. "Where did I go wrong? Is there anything else I should know about?"
"If that's what you two get up to under the table, I'm glad I don't get involved," Harry spluttered. "It felt more like being clobbered by a broomstick, if you ask me."
"So now you're complaining about her?" Ron demanded, beginning to laugh. "Honestly, there's no satisfying some people."
"No," Ginny responded suddenly, letting her fork clatter noisily down on to her plate. She shook her hair back from her face and reached for her school bag. "Some people just don't appreciate things."
"Gin?" Harry said tentatively, seeing a hurt expression on her face. "What is it?"
"Got to go," she said abruptly, getting to her feet. "I've got to see Madam Pomfrey. I'm going to miss part of Transfiguration as it is."
"Oh about your knee," Hermione said with a meaningful glance. "How is that anyway?"
"Whole lot of fuss about nothing," Ginny grumbled, shrugging her shoulders. "Still, I don't suppose there's any sense in not getting it checked out."
"You want me to walk up with you?" Harry offered, smiling up at her.
"No, it's fine," she said shortly. "I can manage." She gave a slightly lopsided smile and disappeared quickly down the length of the hall and out into the entrance hall.
Harry frowned back down at his own meal, suddenly having lost his appetite. There was obviously something wrong. Perhaps it was the unfairness of the detention she had acquired for that night that was bothering her; after all, it was hardly her fault that she'd fallen asleep in class. It was something that was bound to happen sooner or later, and Harry, for one, was eternally thankful that it had happened in Professor Binns' lesson. No one had been in the slightest bit surprised, most of the rest of the Gryffindor sixth years a mere blink of an eye from the same fate themselves. His mind ranged over the contents of Ginny's pregnancy book, which he'd resorted to reading beneath the bedcovers by wand-light, in an attempt to glean some understanding of what she was going through. Fourteen weeks into the pregnancy was when things were supposed to be improving for her. He sighed heavily, and ran a hand through his already messy hair, wishing he understood.
"She'll get over it," Ron grinned, throwing half a bread roll at Harry. "Anyway, you've got double Divination next to cheer you up."
"Great," Harry groaned, burying his head in his hands. "Death by Tarot cards again?"
"You should have done something sensible, like Arithmancy," Hermione smiled at him. "You know she's an old fraud. The whole thing is just a lot of hocus pocus. Divination is known to be the most imprecise form of magic anyway, and I really don't know why either of you bother with it."
"Yeah," Harry said gloomily. "It's a bit late to change now though, isn't it?"
"Come on," said Ron, as the hall began to clear of students for the beginning of afternoon lessons. "Let's go and get this over with. Decapitation, garrotting, ripped to shreds by Aragog; what doom do you fancy today?"
"See you later," Hermione chuckled, before they separated for lessons at the top of the marble staircase. "Try not to die too messily. I'd quite like to see you later in one piece. Somehow I don't think bloody remnants of my boyfriend have the same romantic appeal as the whole thing."
"Well, you know how dangerous these lessons can be," Ron grinned. "If I survive being suffocated by that stupid perfume stuff she uses in her room, there's always the danger of Neville knocking the whole china cabinet over and crushing the lot of us.
"Have fun then," she grinned at them, and headed purposefully along the first floor corridor to her own lesson. Ron and Harry continued slowly upwards, reluctantly winding their way along to the very top of North Tower.
"So what did you get for Ginny?" Ron asked as they passed by the Muggle Studies classrooms and took a sharp right up a narrow stone spiral staircase.
"What?" Harry said distantly, looking at Ron in bewilderment. "What do you mean, get for her? She's had her birthday, and it's after Christmas."
"Ohhh!" Ron said slowly, his face lighting up into a mischievous grin.
"What?" Harry repeated, shaking his head.
"Oh, Harry," Ron began to laugh. "Oh, Harry! I wouldn't like to be in your shoes right now."
"Why ever not?" Harry demanded, turning to stare at his best friend, who was virtually bent double in an effort to control his laughter.
"Do the words… Valentine's Day… mean nothing to you?" Ron raised his eyebrows skywards. Realisation fell heavily upon Harry like a Welsh Green had plummeted from the sky and landed right on top of him, crushing him to a pulp.
"Today?" He clutched the banister, feeling the colour drain out of him. "You're kidding?"
"Nope," Ron said cheerfully. "And I reckon Ginny's going to tear you limb from limb when she finds out you've forgotten. No wonder she wasn't very happy with you at lunch."
"I didn't forget," Harry protested. "I-I just didn't remember," he added lamely after a brief pause.
"Yeah, right," Ron chuckled.
"Oh come on!" Harry objected vehemently. "You mean that you did? Hermione didn't have to remind you once?"
"Well…" Ron confessed. "Maybe she did mention something once or twice, but at least I didn't forget completely."
Harry let out a growl of frustration as his fist pounded against the stone wall, causing a couple of fourth year Hufflepuff girls heading in the opposite direction to yelp in alarm and scurry downwards far more quickly.
"How on earth did I forget?" he exclaimed, looking desperately at Ron. "And more importantly, what am I going to do about it?"
"Grovel like mad?" Ron suggested, with a grin. "It's hardly the end of the world, is it? She'll lose her temper, yell at you for a bit until you crumple in a heap and she feels better, and then she'll forgive you. All girls are the same. Plus, you've got to enjoy the making up part of having an argument. Come on."
With these sage words of wisdom, he turned and continued up the stairs. Harry watched him disappear, and rubbed his aching hand thoughtfully. It made a lot of sense, and certainly explained a lot about Ron and Hermione's arguments, but he had this vague suspicion that Ron had missed the point somehow. Besides, this was Ginny's temper they were discussing here, and that was never something to be blasé about. Given a choice between a furious Ginny and ten rounds with a Hungarian Horntail, Harry knew which he'd prefer. He sighed heavily and trudged up the stairs after Ron.
Waiting on the small circular landing at the top of North Tower, Harry kicked his heels moodily against the wall.
"What's up with him?" Dean Thomas said to Ron, nodding his head in Harry's direction.
"In the dog house," Ron laughed. "You'll never guess what he forgot today?"
"He didn't?" Lavender's eyes widened, looking at Harry as if he'd just murdered someone.
"Just tell the world, why don't you?" Harry protested feeling worse than ever. "All right, I'm just a complete prat. Can't we leave it at that?"
"Sooner you than me," Seamus's entertained lilt broke into the conversation. "You need flowers or something. Or better still, a good barrier charm to stop her killing you."
Before Harry had a chance to retort, the trapdoor in the ceiling opened, and the heady fumes descended with the wavering misty voice welcoming them to the beginning of the lesson.
Settling himself in a comfy armchair as far away from Professor Trelawney as he could muster, Harry raised his eyebrows at Ron and scrabbled through his bag for his book and package of Tarot Cards, flinging them down on the table. A memory flittered through his head. Flowers. The Triwizard tournament. Hadn't Mr Ollivander used magic to create flowers when testing Fleur's wand? He had. Harry bit his lip thoughtfully. Maybe there was a way to make the situation slightly better, if only he could find that spell before Ginny escaped from Professor Binns' detention. New ideas began to form, and a slow grin spread over Harry's face. If only…
"Today, my dear children," Professor Trelawney's misty voice swirled through the perfumed scent of the stiflingly hot room, "we will attempt to interpret the future using the cards. You must see it with your inner eye, feel for the future and discover the fate that awaits you."
Harry stifled a yawn, having heard this speech far too many times before, and glanced around his classmates, seeing Parvati and Lavender sitting by their teacher's feet, gazing adoringly at her with rapt attention.
"You must understand the nature of the cards," she continued staring meaningfully at each one of them, her spectacles magnifying her eyes to alarming proportions. "My own interpretation shows that your work here is important for your future career."
"She means it's going to be in our N.E.W.T.s," Ron muttered to Harry.
At her instruction they broke off into pairs, their teacher drifting affectedly off to spread her own cards across a low table, sliding them slightly apart with long spidery fingers. Occasional gasps and sobs of distress broke through the room, ignored by the majority of the class.
"Let's get on with it, then," Harry said flatly. "If it's going to be on the exam, we'd better get a grip on this."
"I dunno," Ron grinned. "We're doing pretty well without having read the book. Why change the habit of a life time?"
"True," Harry chuckled quietly, picking up his stack of cards and shuffling them. "Well, here goes nothing."
He spread out his selected cards, and glanced up at Ron.
"Bet you a bag of Every Flavour Beans I can die at least three horrible deaths across these ten cards."
"Go on then," Ron leaned forwards with considerably more interest. "If you can manage four, you can have a chocolate frog as well. I dare say you'll need the energy if you're going to kick the bucket as many times as that."
"OK," Harry said, lowering his eyes to the card formation. "Queen of Wands."
"For the woman in your life," Ron grinned.
"It does sort of look like Ginny, doesn't it," Harry laughed, examining the red-headed, regally-robed figure on the card.
"Yeah, and the description fits her too," Ron added, mischievously glancing up from the textbook. "Although, obviously I can't comment about the 'has great sex appeal' bit."
"Hmm," Harry said, blushing furiously and grabbing the book. "Warm and outgoing, makes friends easily, has a warm and sunny disposition, is not easily provoked."
"Unless you forget Valentine's Day," Ron nudged him.
"Right," Harry said through gritted teeth. "And in opposition to her we have," his voice faltered for a second as he caught sight of the card. "Death."
"That's promising," Ron chuckled. "You might be able to get a few Every Flavour Beans here."
"Ron," Harry felt his stomach surge unpleasantly within him. "Look at it. Death."
"It's just representing something, isn't it?" Ron said reassuringly. "It doesn't literally mean death. I'm sure it doesn't."
"Then what?" Harry hissed, feeling the tension begin to tighten within him.
"It's an ending," Ron read from the book. Harry forgot to breathe. "All right, a change, then. It's all to do with fate, and accepting the inevitable."
"The inevitable?" A chill ran through his bones, making him shiver despite the heat of the room. He had this horrible feeling that he knew where this was leading: history repeating itself. They had set themselves along this path, knowing of its outcome. Ginny wasn't safe.
He mentally shook himself. This was Divination. What had Hermione called it? A load of old hocus pocus. He was just being silly. He heard Ron continuing with the analysis.
"So the next card is whatever's the root of the cause, which is…" There was a sharp intake of breath. "It won't be what it looks like," Ron said quickly, as Harry spotted the horned demon on the card. "Let's see. Devil… Devil… Ah, here we go. Being tied down against your will, submitting to another." His voice caught in his throat and he looked at Harry, confusion covering his features.
"Chamber of Secrets," Harry muttered, frowning at the card, his heart lurching uneasily in his chest. "It's what he did to her there. The Imperius Curse when he almost killed her back in the fifth year. Come on," he demanded urgently. "What else does it say?"
"It's nothing much," Ron said hoarsely. "Fear of the unknown, doubts and a bleak future."
"Voldemort," Harry said beneath his breath, the cold weight of certainty settling within him.
"It can't be," Ron retorted, sounding extremely uncertain. "This is ridiculous."
"Is it?" Harry asked, pointing to the next two cards. "This looks uncannily accurate if you ask me."
"The Lovers and the Empress," a voice wavered mistily from behind Harry, making him almost jump out of his skin."
"Um… yeah," he said.
"These are positive omens," Professor Trelawney intoned, sounding rather disappointed. "Heralding a loving union and a moral choice that must be made. It seems a baby too looms in your future, my dear boy."
Harry felt his throat turn as dry as sandpaper, to hear this carefully concealed truth spoken aloud so casually for any his classmates to hear. Blood pounded through his ears. They couldn't let anyone find out about this. They couldn't. He glanced desperately across at Ron.
"There'd better not be," Ron said in an angry tone, looking every bit as shaken as Harry felt. "You do anything like that to my sister and I'll break your legs."
"Don't worry," Harry retorted, taking his cue from Ron. "I think she'd beat you to it."
There was a roar of laughter from Dean and Seamus, and Professor Trelawney's lips tightened, and she moved across to their table to see how they were getting along.
"Stupid old bat," Ron grumbled beneath his breath. "Are you OK?"
"Just about," Harry replied, trying to force himself to breathe steadily once more. "Thanks for that."
"No worries," Ron smiled at him. "I'll take you round the back of the broom sheds later and sort you out."
Harry chuckled shakily and turned his attention to the happiness contained in Temperance to allay his fears. The security offered by that card was offset by the Ten of Swords, which Harry usually deliberately shuffled out of the way, trying not to think like that again. That was where he had been almost a year ago; at his lowest ever point, knowing there was nowhere to turn. The pain was there still, and he knew he'd never be free of it, not until Voldemort was destroyed. He laughed at the cruel irony of the world seeing him through the Strength card. Yes, the famous Harry Potter, he thought bitterly. If only they knew how it felt sometimes, his hopes and dreams were laid out in the cards before him and were being broken before his very eyes.
The picture on the Strength card caught his attention and he stared at it for a while: a robed woman guiding a lion gently with her hand. He touched it curiously, wondering. Gryffindor was for the brave in heart, he'd always known that, even though right now he felt like a quivering wreck, with jelly for knees. He would fight on. He had to. Once he'd given up hope there was no chance, and he wasn't about to do that with Ginny and now their baby to care for.
"The Hanged Man," he said restlessly.
"It's about ending the struggle," Ron read aloud. "Turning the direction of fate by letting go. The obvious solution is not always the one to go for."
"The obvious solution," Harry echoed, thought furrowing his brow. "I don't know what that could be, and this last card doesn't clear much up either. Twists and turns of fate. We could end up anywhere, just as the Wheel turns.." He pushed the cards together in exasperation, fearful for the future, for Ginny and their child. He felt sick.
"Don't tell Ginny about it," Ron advised as they eventually escaped and headed back down to rejoin the rest of the school. "We've probably got most of it wrong anyway."
"You think?" Harry said sceptically.
"I don't know," Ron admitted, running his hand though his hair and making it stand on end, looking like an embarrassed porcupine. "What I do know," he added, quickly pulling Harry into a quiet alcove, "is that she shouldn't get upset. There's no telling how she'll react to something like this."
"But keeping something like that from her…?" Harry shook his head. "If there's even the slightest chance that any of that is true, wouldn't you rather know about it if you were her?"
"Probably," Ron admitted slowly. He looked carefully at Harry and continued in a lower tone, "But then, neither of us really know what she's going through."
"I shouldn't have dragged her into all this," Harry burst out angrily. "I've got no right to put her in danger. If you hadn't covered it up so well anything could have happened."
"But it hasn't, and she's fine," Ron reminded him. "Divination's all rubbish anyway. Forget it."
"I can't," Harry said, moving restlessly around the confines of the alcove. "How can I stop worrying about her? About them? You're right though, I don't think it's such a good idea to tell her: not yet. She's feeling fragile enough, without this as well."
"I can honestly say that my little sister and fragile are two concepts I've never heard together in the same sentence," Ron chuckled suddenly. "Bearing in mind she's about to rip your head off, Harry, what are you going to do?"
"Go to the library," Harry responded instantly, matching his actions to his words and heading into the corridor once more.
"You're turning into Hermione," Ron teased, as they twisted their way downwards past the Muggle Studies classrooms. "Since when did doing your homework mean Ginny's going to forgive you?"
"It's not homework," Harry grinned, separating from Ron at the top of the main stairwell. "Far more important than that. See you later."
*****
A couple of hours later, Harry was sitting, waiting patiently on the floor in the empty corridor outside Professor Binns' History of Magic classroom. He had been there for quite some time, not knowing quite when Ginny's detention would end, and determined not to miss her. His wand swung loosely between his fingers, golden sparks showering out of the end every now and then as it bounced against his leg. On the opposite wall hung a portrait of a wizard with lengthy locks of grey, who wrote incessantly in a massive tome, pausing every now and then to dip his quill in ink again, before resuming his task. Harry was just on the verge of falling asleep himself, when the door creaked open and he scrambled hastily to his feet.
"I'm sorry," he said honestly, looking into the angry brown eyes not far from his own. "Ginny, I am so sorry. Why don't you turn me into a toad and squash me with your foot, or maybe that itching spell you used on Fred a while back might be more of a punishment? Or both?"
"Mmm," she said, her lips pressed together firmly. "It hurts, you know. It feels like you were too caught up in your Quidditch and stuff to notice me."
"Gin," he said helplessly. "You know that's not true. You mean more to me than anything and I want to make this up to you somehow."
"You can't just expect to make everything all better because you feel like it," she snapped, her brow furrowing. "My fan club remembered, but my husband didn't? Harry, how did you think I felt this morning, everyone asking me about you? You know what they're all like."
"Yeah," Harry admitted, dropping his gaze and staring guiltily down at his shoes.
"And having to see Madam Pomfrey made it worse," she burst out, making Harry glance nervously up and down the deserted corridor, the fears from the Divination lesson leaping back into his mind. "It just felt like I was doing all this on my own."
"You're not," he said urgently. "Ginny, I promise you're not on your own. I know I shouldn't have forgotten," he confessed. "If you can think of anything worse to do to me, then that's fine. I'd even let you turn my Firebolt pink if it makes you feel better. I deserve that far more than Charlie did, I'm willing to bet."
"You do," she said, her mouth breaking into a small smile. "And just what do you propose to do to persuade me to forgive you, Mr Potter?"
"I was hoping you were going to ask that," Harry said smiling back at her. "Can I take your bag? We've got a bit of a walk."
They strolled quietly through the castle, through many doors and corridors leading further and further away from the hub of the school, and finally, checking carefully all around them to ensure they were unobserved, they ducked under a low-slung archway in a darkened corner to reach their destination. Ginny turned to Harry, her smile curious, and warm.
"We're here?" she asked, biting her lip as she recognised the landing.
"Well, Dumbledore did say we could come back sometimes if no one was going to notice us," Harry explained, returning her smile. "If you ask me, you deserve far more than any normal Valentine's gift, so this is what I came up with."
"And what's that?" she smiled.
He gave the password, and the door swung open, allowing her to enter. She took a couple of steps inside their room before bursting out into fits of laughter.
"You've been learning the Orchideous Spell," she spluttered, pushing her way past the numerous blooms that quite literally filled the room, covering the floor and surfaces, and permeating the place with a fragrant scent.
"Thought you might like a flower or two," Harry chuckled, closing the door firmly behind him. "Trust you to know the name of the spell, though. Have you any idea how long it took me to find that in the library?"
"Ages, I hope," she grinned mischievously at him.
"So, having gone to all the bother of learning the spell, I thought I'd better put it to good use," he grinned, collecting a single white rose from the arrangement by his feet and holding it out for her. "Peace offering?"
She smiled. "It's beautiful, Harry," she said quietly, taking the flower and gazing at it. "I would hug you, but I have this sneaking suspicion I'll disappear forever, drowned in this sea of flowers if I dare to move. Would I be horribly ungrateful if I got rid of them for a bit?"
"I'll be traumatised for life," he chuckled, waving his wand and banishing the flowers quickly.
"I'm keeping this one," she said, placing her rose carefully on the mantelpiece. "Don't let me forget it, will you?"
"No," he responded, wrapping her tightly in his arms, and feeling some of the tension of the day start to ebb out of him. He kissed her forehead. "How was detention?"
"Dull," she said, with a giggle. "I'd not expect much else from Professor Binns, would you?"
"I suppose not," he chuckled, manoeuvring her gently into a chair by the fire. "But you're going to take it easy for now and relax, Mrs Potter, and that's an order. It's not just the flowers I've got for you."
"It's not?" she said in amazement.
"No," Harry chuckled, settling on the footstool beside her and reaching for the box he'd acquired from Dobby earlier that evening, and performed a basic freezing spell on. "What do you want more now than anything else?"
Her brown eyes twinkled in the candlelight of the room, glowing in anticipation.
"Ice-cream?" she said hopefully.
"So, if in the middle of a bitterly cold February," Harry teased, producing the aforementioned ice-cream, "my wife has developed a thing for banana ice-cream, who am I to complain?"
"Not me, the baby," she giggled, impatiently grabbing the bowl from him and sliding a spoonful quickly into her mouth with a contented sigh. "Don't ask me what's going on. Baby wants ice-cream, and I'm not in a position to argue." She shrugged and set about devouring the entire contents of the bowl.
"How's the baby doing?" Harry asked gently, pulling her feet onto his lap. "How are you?"
"Absolutely fine," she smiled and giggled suddenly. "In fact, I've got the tiniest bit of a bump now. Give me a hand to take the charm off and I'll show you."
"It might just be all the ice-cream you've been scoffing," Harry teased, casting his part of the illusion.
"I'd need to eat a lot of it to produce this," she laughed.
"Gin, you've been eating your own bodyweight in ice-cream every day for the past month!"
"No one else has said anything," she protested.
"That's because you've been raiding the kitchens at three in the morning," he pointed out. "Even the House Elves wouldn't notice you at that time."
"Good point," she giggled, grabbing his hand suddenly and guiding it through folds of robes onto her stomach. His hand flexed, absorbing her warmth, remembering the very feel of her. Slowly, a huge grin spread across his face. She was right.
"That's the baby?" he said incredulously, stroking the slight swelling of her stomach. She nodded, her own face wreathed in smiles. "Wow," he whispered, sensing the firmness, the reality of their child.
"Amazing, isn't it?" she said, caressing a soft hand down his cheek. "That's part of us in there." She gave a sudden exclamation, and leaned over to reach into her bag. "Um… Harry," she said, turning rather pink and biting her lip. "Er… I forgot to give you this earlier. Sorry!" She held out an envelope, and Harry couldn't stop himself laughing.
"I'm glad I'm not the only one who forgets things," he teased.
"Your brain shrinks when you're pregnant," she giggled. "What's your excuse?"
"Sympathetic brain shrinking?" he suggested, tearing through the envelope and opening the card. He grinned at her, before reading the words written out in her fluid script.
"Harry,
Life has changed so much for us in these past few months, so much that is new has made my life with you better than I had ever dreamed about. So I thought I'd try something new as well. I've read a lot of poems, but never written one before. This is for you, with all my heart. My love now and always,
Ginny.
Sonnet for Harry
My quill pauses, as I search for the words To move from what poets have said for years Waxing lyrical their love to lengths absurdRevealing to all their most naked fears.
Yet, this is a gift, just from me to you:
An honest truth, an open heart, my life.
Together we'll face each challenge anew The future is ours, as husband and wife. Your babe that I carry beneath my heart So secretly safe, this life from our love,This love of our life, of us is a part.
Stealing socks a token always to prove
Forever I'm yours, through chaos and calm, With all that I am, held here in your palm.Harry tore his eyes from the page and looked at her, seeing her face flushing so furiously that it almost blended with her hair.
"Gin…"
Words seemed inadequate somehow, they couldn't sum up what he wanted to say, how much this meant. He reached for her, burying his face in the fiery depths her hair, simply holding her close and enfolding her safely in his love. A distant rumble of thunder sounded from beyond the Forbidden Forest, bringing with it recollections of the Divination lesson. He tightened his arms around her, clinging to his world in a desperate attempt to stop time, to stave off the inevitability of the future. It was a long while before either of them moved.