Disclosure: No house-elves were harmed in the writing of this chapter. Garden Gnomes? Oh, yes. But no house-elves. Many Garden Gnomes were sacrificed in propitiation of the holders to all the rights to the Potterverse. Sadly, that's not me. That's alright though. I don't much fancy roasted garden gnome. Kinda gamy for my tastes.

A/N: Just a quick note of thanks, to all who've reviewed, and a huge thank you and a glomp for Rachael, for the help with this chapter. I'd give you a great big kiss too, but Lori might get a bit jealous. Possessive, that one is.

Confrontations

A very shaken sixteen year old wizard made his way through the portrait hole leading to Gryffindor tower. His emerald eyes quickly scanned the common room until he caught sight of who he was looking for. In the corner of the room, sharing a single chair, were Ron and Hermione. They appeared to be hermetically sealed together at the lips. Harry was glad they'd gotten together. Really, he was. He just wished they could find slightly less public ways to show their affection for each other, as it had a slight tendency to put him off his dinner. Still, it was better than the nearly constant bickering he'd listened to from the two of them for the first five years of their friendship.

He went quickly to them, putting up silencing and notice-me-not charms along the way. When they still hadn't noticed him standing there a few minutes later, he drew his wand and shot a jet of cold water at the two of them. They separated instantly, sputtering as they jumped from the chair. By the time they were on their feet, Harry had finished casting a quick aridus, drying them thoroughly. Under normal circumstances, this would be an extremely amusing experience. However, with as unsettled as he was by what he'd just seen in the Room of Requirement, Harry wasn't in the mood for a laugh just now. He had a strange look in his eyes that stopped whatever protests the couple might have made in their tracks.

Hermione was the first to speak. "Harry, what's wrong? You look as if you've seen a ghost."

"Actually, I saw three. Rather, two and a poltergeist, on the way here." he answered distractedly.

Rolling her eyes, she said, "Harry, you're babbling. What's got you so worked up?"

"Did either of you tell Ginny about my animagus form?"

Both shook their heads as Ron spoke up. "Of course not, mate. You and McGonagall swore us to secrecy. Why d'you think that?"

Harry looked around to make sure Ginny wasn't there. A sign of how distracted the young wizard was could be seen in the fact that he forgot for a moment about the charms he'd cast earlier.

"I was coaching her on her patronus, just now. After what happened in Hogsmeade..." He trailed off. The other two remembered all too well how she'd been affected by the dementors, and Harry's vow to ensure that she wouldn't have to worry about that again.

He explained about the new technique he'd had her try, using her heart's true desire, her dreams.

"The next time she tried it, she got an honest to Merlin, full-blown, corporeal patronus. A bloody royal hippogriff, with a chest blaze identical to this buggering thing!" He pointed at the scar on his forehead. "I'll ask again. Are you absolutely certain that nothing slipped out to her about it? Even by accident?"

Hermione answered this time. "Absolutely, Harry. Neither of us would be that careless about security. We know what's at stake."

He sank down into the chair they'd vacated, head in his hands. "I know you wouldn't. I'm sorry. I just...How do you explain it, then?"

Hermione had a strange look on her face. It was a mix of the one she had when she'd figured out a particularly difficult puzzle, a bit of trepidation over what his response might be to her conclusion, and just a bit of smugness, as if she were about to prove something she'd said all along.

Harry was familiar with this particular expression, as she'd had it a few times before, and knew that he'd have to reassure her that it was safe to say what she wanted to. He felt a twinge of guilt at this thought. He knew he hadn't always treated her the way he should, and wanted to make sure he didn't take her or her brilliance for granted. Not anymore.

"Mione, I promise I won't explode on you. Just tell me, okay?"

She nodded, saying, "Alright, Harry. Just remember two things. First, you asked for my opinion. Second, this really is not an attempt to say 'I told you so', alright?" At his nod, she continued. "Over the past couple of years, I've done some research into the patronus charm, among other things. Don't say a word, Ron. Anyway, one of the things I've tried to find out about is what determines the shape the manifestation takes on. Some people have great fierce things, like Ron's bear, your stag, and Remus' lion. Others have forms that are usually more passive in nature, like my otter, or Cho's swan. Oh, don't cringe like that, Harry. I'm just using it as an example. The thing is, no matter what the form is, all of them are fiercely protective when facing dementors.

"One other thing I've noticed that relates to you and Ginny is that a patronus form can represent somebody you have very deep positive feelings about, even if you don't realize that's where it comes from. Your magic knows, whether you do or not." She saw Harry starting to protest, and held a hand up to stop him. "Before that night in the Shrieking Shack, did you know anything about your dad's animagus form, or his nickname at school?" Seeing him shake his head no, she continued. "I didn't think so. How long before that night were you able to produce a fully corporeal patronus?"

"About two months or so."

"You told me that, until you received your Hogwarts letter, your 'bedroom' for want of a better word, was a small cupboard under the stairway in your aunt and uncle's home. I know from what Ron and the Twins said after coming to get you before second year, you were little more than a prisoner there, with bars on the window of the bedroom they'd moved you into. From the little you've told us about that, it was due to something that Dobby had done with a pudding, using magic in your home and getting you in trouble with the Ministry. Right so far?"

He nodded. "Pretty much."

"Harry, on the one hand, I'm sorry I have to ask you this, and on the other, I'm ashamed that I never have before."

From the look on Hermione's face, he had a pretty good idea what she was going to ask. Truthfully, he wondered how he'd gotten this far without answering the question he reckoned was coming, and braced himself for it.

She sank to her knees in front of him, taking his hand into both of hers. She really hoped she wasn't about to get the answer she thought she would, but needed to know. She steeled herself and said, "There's really no good way to ask this, so I'll just ask it straight out. Growing up, did you get hit a lot by them? More than just spankings and the like? I know your cousin was, and is, horrible to you, but your aunt and uncle?"

Harry's eyes went dark, as clouded as Hermione or Ron had ever seen them. Aside from that, there was no expression at all on his normally mobile face, sending a chill down both of his best friends' backs. Normally, the only time he looked like this was when somebody mentioned Sirius at an inopportune moment, or when he encountered Snape in the corridors.

The potions professor had lately taken to belittling James and Lily Potter every chance he got, using every put down he could possibly think of. Apparently, he was extremely rankled by the fact that Harry had gotten into NEWT level Potions, and was doing very well at it on top of that. These encounters were actually one of the things that had taught Harry the control he now exhibited most of the time. It had, in Snape's view, taken away his best chance for deducting points from Gryffindor over the past few months, frustrating the man greatly. That in itself was reason enough for Harry to work on his control.

When he spoke next, his eyes had cleared, almost a little too much. Any expression was almost completely gone from them. What followed was very dispassionate, almost sounding in tone like a documentary Hermione remembered watching in primary school, before Hogwarts. He told his best friends what it had really been like, growing up under the 'care' of the Dursleys. How any time he'd 'dared' to outperform their precious Diddydums, academically, athletically or otherwise, he was punished. First, through meals withheld or extra chores, sometimes both. Then, when the first incidences of accidental magic had occurred, they'd hit him.

At first, it had been nothing more than slaps. Then, fists. Later, when they'd realized that the injuries these hits had inflicted seemed to heal much too quickly for their tastes, Vernon had changed to using a belt, to try to 'beat the abnormality out of him'. When these marks had faded too quickly for his uncle's liking, he'd switched to using other things, a broom handle, a cord from a lamp, other objects Harry refused to remember, not caring what damage he might do to the young boy consigned to his care. Harry quite literally had no idea how many times bones in his arms, legs, his ribs, even his skull, had been broken over the years, or how many times his body had magically mended itself more quickly and effectively than could be accounted for. Vernon had told him time and time again that it was for his own good, seeming to believe that magic could be beaten out of him, turning him normal.

Whatever that was.

By the time he'd finished, Hermione and Ron were each crouched to one side of his chair. Ron was gripping his shoulder, darkly muttering about teaching those muggles a thing or two. Hermione had her arms wrapped around his neck, sobbing. She couldn't help but think back to the quietly polite boy with the broken glasses and messy black hair she'd met her first time on the Hogwarts Express. Just the thought of those monsters doing what had been described, to that sweet young boy, was enough to rip the heart from her chest. It was hard to reconcile that kind of treatment with the way Harry had turned out. As she cried herself out, Harry ran his hand up and down her back, telling her that it was alright, that they knew better than to try that anymore. After a few minutes, she stopped crying, and sat down on the floor in front of his chair. She looked up into his eyes and saw that they were back to their usual vibrant green.

She took a handkerchief out of her pocket and dried her face, giving her nose a good blow while she was at it. When she was done, she looked up at him with an incredulous half-smile on her face. "Harry, how is it that you can tell me things like that about your own childhood, and I end up being the one comforted, by you no less?"

A ghost of his usual smile touched his eyes as he shrugged. "I've lived with it for a long time, Mione. I guess I'm just used to it. It's just the way my life was, for a long time. They won't try it anymore, only because I frighten them now." He chuckled a bit. "Guess it's kind of a good thing, yeah?"

Hermione and Ron traded a look that said they would discuss this in more detail later. Their best friend had endured far too much, for far too long, for retribution not to be in the offing. By the time the summer hols came around again, both would be of age, and a reckoning would be due. There was no way those idiots were going to get away with what they'd done to him.

(In fact, during the summer between their sixth and seventh years, there was a meeting between these two, Ginny, and Fred and George. Halfway through the planning session, they'd been interrupted by Molly. Once she was informed of the reasons behind this particular summit meeting, an enraged Molly, bearing an uncanny resemblance to a lioness defending her cubs in full roar, had helped the group with some particularly painful, devious, as well as extremely effective, suggestions. She also volunteered to send the Dursleys an extraordinarily loud howler, letting them know that everything that would befall them was deliberate, rather than a series of rather unfortunate events. That, alas, is a story for another time.)

Once the three of them had a few minutes to collect themselves, Hermione asked, "During all the time you were growing up with those people, did you ever wish that somebody would rescue you, take you away from the Dursleys?"

Harry nodded slowly. "Yeah, actually. I don't think I ever really believed that my parents died in a car crash, like Petunia said. Every night, trying to get to sleep in that cupboard, I'd fantasize about my dad coming to Privet Drive, telling them off for how they'd treated me, and beating the snot out of Vernon. Then, he'd take me away from them forever. The two of us would join my mum, and we'd all live happily ever after somewhere.

"Mione, what does any of this have to do with my patronus, or Ginny's for that matter?"

"I'll tell you in a moment. First, tell me something. Putting aside anything you saw about him in that memory from Snape, what do you feel about your dad?"

"I love him, of course. He was my dad. How else would I feel?" He was starting to get a bit irritated by this line of questioning, and it showed. "Again, what does any of this have to do with patroni, mine or Gin's?"

"The most recent theory anyone's come up with regarding the patronus is that, for some people, both the form and the power is linked to the caster's feelings for a particular person. From what I've been able to determine, two feelings are involved, safety and love. You have to feel absolutely, completely, totally safe when you're with them, or when you think of them. You also have to love that person, unconditionally. Not 'for as long as they're there for me', 'as long as he doesn't do something that embarrasses me', or 'once he notices me, and stops being a blind berk'. Unconditionally. Without reservation, and with all of your heart, Harry."

At this, Ron couldn't keep quiet any longer. "The same way that you and Ginny love each other, mate. The same way I love Hermione. Completely." He pointed at his girlfriend. "She might not say 'I told you so', but I will." Poking Harry in the chest, he concluded, "So, are you going to finally ask her out, or not?"

Harry leaned his head on the back of the chair, exhausted in every sense of the word. He had no idea at the moment if this was even a good idea, no matter how his heart pulled at him, telling him how right it was. He looked around the room, trying to work it all out.

He saw that, at some point while he and his friends had talked, Ginny had come into the common room and settled onto the sofa in front of the fire. At first, he was afraid she'd overheard all or part of their conversation, then remembered the charms he'd erected earlier. Luckily, that meant that she was oblivious to anything the trio had said, indeed, even the fact that they were in the room with her. He sat there for a few minutes, watching the lights from the flames on the hearth playing over her hair. He remembered a moment like this, back in Grimmauld Place, just a year ago.

They'd all been sitting around the table in the kitchen, waiting for word on Arthur Weasley, when it happened. The first time he'd ever really seen her. Her head had been resting on one of her arms on the table, the firelight dancing over her auburn hair, bringing out new colors, every time it flickered and shifted. The same light played over her eyes, and he noticed for the first time that her eyes were the exact colors of melted chocolate, with flecks of gold in them.

It was also the first time he'd recalled what Hermione had said to him about Ginny, after that meeting at the HogsHead. Thinking of that now, he turned back to Hermione.

"I thought you told me that she used to fancy me, that she didn't like me that way anymore. She gave up on me ages ago, you said."

"She did. She gave up on you in the same way that I'd given up on Ron. At the time, neither of us thought we'd ever have the chance to get the boys we wanted. We gave up trying, and chasing, but we never gave up hope, never gave up our dreams." She looked over at her boyfriend now. "I just happened to get my dream first." She smiled at the blush that appeared on Ron's cheeks. "Now it's time for hers, and yours, to come true. Just ask her, Harry. You two really are meant for each other."

The two of them stood to go, and Ron looked at Harry once more. "I don't know of any couple that deserves happiness more than you two. You can find it, if nobody else. Ask her."

Ron and Hermione left hand in hand, very quietly, so as not to alert Ginny as to their presence. They slipped out through the portrait hole as quietly as they could, and Harry canceled the spells he'd had up.

Making up his mind, he got up slowly from his chair and walked toward her. Hesitantly, he spoke.

"Ginny."