Disclaimer:

The Characters and situations of Harry Potter depicted in this story are the legal property of J.K. Rowling, Bloomsbury, and AOL Time Warner, and have been used without permission. No copyright infringement is intended. No profit is being made off this site, and is for entertainment purposes only.

Author's Notes:

This is an Alternate Universe Story in the Harry Potter Series in that it branches off from the series before the final Chapter of The Order of Phoenix. Also, the ages of Charlie and Bill Weasley were conceived prior to the announcement by JKR. For the purposes of this story they are Twenty-eight and Thirty, respectively.

This version has been modified from the original NC-17 version, housed at Specifically, explicatives have been modified and sexual situations made less explicit. Any large changes will be pointed out in author's notes. Thank you and enjoy.

Of Hearts and Heroes

Chapter Twenty

Hermione stood alone, in front of the massive bookcase in Adrianna's room. It was close to midnight and she was physically exhausted, but her mind was alert and exhilarated. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Remus had long since gone to bed.

After being drilled all morning and afternoon on the defensive spells they knew, Adrianna had finally decided to teach them something new. As with everything else she did, she didn't mess around. So, in the late afternoon they began their first round of wandless magic.

It made sense, really, when disarmed the most important survival technique is to rearm yourself. Hermione could still feel the thrill, the sense of accomplishment, when she saw her wand, across the ballroom floor, twitch and shift toward her when called. The magic came from her, not her wand….it was amazing.

They had barely gotten started when they were called to dinner, drained and distracted. The four of them hardly said a word while they ate ravenously. Remus and Mr. Weasley engaged Charlie and Adrianna in a discussion about foreign Wizarding policy and there was surprisingly little bickering from anyone.

After dinner, Mrs. Weasley had suggested that they retire early and Adrianna didn't say a word against her, but unanimously, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Harry had begged to continue with the training. So they had worked on, drilling themselves over and over until shortly after ten when every last one of them had finally managed to make their wand fly into their hands at least once.

When Adrianna had first told them what they were going to do, Hermione had thought she was crazy. Well, she always thought the Empath was a bit, well….Most full grown Wizards never mastered the task they were being asked to accomplish tonight. In half a day. Adrianna had simply said it was evidence of how truly powerful the four of them really were. Hermione didn't quite know what to think of that.

But she was proud of her accomplishment, of their accomplishment…of Ron….who even now was so thrilled at what he had achieved, two difficult spells in one day, that he was across the hall having Adrianna teach him how to transfigure their narrow bed into 'something more comfortable.'

Hermione had always said that all he needed was to apply himself. She couldn't quite understand how he'd accomplished such delicious hot cocoa though. She hoped he wouldn't get discouraged he didn't get the bed right, not after all he'd done today.

Hermione perused the titles on the bookcase. How much could you tell about a person about their book collection? A dozen potion books, some books on healing, Defense Against Dark Arts books that bordered on Dark Arts books. But then there was Magical Design, Making Life Beautiful, and How to Live in Luxury Wherever You Are. A whole section was devoted to muggle psychology. What would an Empath need with those?

Hermione's eyes lingered on a book called Overcoming Trauma. She ran her finger along the spine. She wandered on; many of the books weren't in English. For some reason a text called Große Magische Liebe-Geschichten caught her eye.

Great Magical Love…something…half a German CD course does not make for fluency. Nonetheless, odd as it was, Hermione picked the book up. Maybe it was the incongruity of finding it between the book about Death Curses and the scary looking text in Latin that appeared to have real bone in its spine.

Hermione carefully opened the front cover finding a hand written note in the front cover that seemed to be written in the same foreign tongue that Adrianna and Charlie conversed in. It was written to 'Anna' and signed 'Charlie.'

Her heart beat faster. She felt horribly intrusive, but justified her behavior by telling herself that the Empath intruded on them all the time. Hermione noticed the inner binding was cut and she bent it back revealing a slip on parchment inside.

Looking guiltily at the door she pulled it out. It wasn't parchment at all. It was a photograph…a photograph of Adrianna and Charlie looking a whole lot younger and a whole lot happier. She was leaning back on him and he had his arms wrapped around her.

Were they in love? Are they in love? Did Adrianna feel for Charlie what she felt for Ron?

Suddenly, the shame at her voyeurism was overwhelming and Hermione quickly shoved the picture back into the binding and put the book back on the shelf.

But she couldn't stop the questions from flowing through her mind. What had happened to them? What brought them from the moment the picture was taken to the tense couple downstairs? Had there been a horrible break up? Was it unrequited love? Hermione and Ron had many happy pictures like this.

Maybe they were best friends who were secretly in love with one another, but never admitted it so…which was completely ridiculous since Adrianna was an Empath and she could feel everything that Charlie felt…there would be nothing that he could keep secret.

Was that what destroyed them? The Empathy? Hermione had a horrible selfish thought…she hoped it was. That way what had ruined them, could never ruin her and Ron. Then at least they could have a chance.

She couldn't control the dread that filled her, as she couldn't control the images of her and Ron ending up just like them. What if her plan didn't work? What if they never got together in the way that she wanted? Would she end up like Adrianna? Hard, arrogant, bossy, and alone?

Would she run away for three years to escape the pain of being near him and not being with him? Is that what Adrianna had done? Run from Charlie?

Hopelessness and helplessness filled her and Hermione knew she had to get out of this room and get these thoughts out of her mind.

She found the books she was looking for. She pulled the Diary and The Legend and Legacy of the Empath off the shelf. On impulse, she grabbed the trauma book as well.

Hermione paused in the hallway, halfway between Adrianna's room and Ron's. She couldn't go in there. The Empath would know immediately what she had been doing, what she had been going through. She anxiously moved to stand against the wall next to Ron's door, hugging the books to her chest and listening as she wracked her brain for a way to keep the secret.

She heard Adrianna's laughter inside the room. "I don't know what to tell you, Harry. Seems he's just a natural."

"Since when?" Harry was laughing as well, but there was a twinge of envy in his voice.

"I reckon I just have taste for the finer things in life, mate," Ron joked.

"Yeah, right," Harry retorted and there were the sounds of a scuffle and Adrianna laughed again.

"All right, I'm off to bed. I'd suggest you two do the same. We're still starting physical training at eight."

There was a collective groan and Hermione jumped back. Think of something else. Oh dear, she had to think of something else.

"Hermione?" Adrianna said, now standing in front of her. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Oh no, think something, sing something, a rhyme maybe.

Adrianna gestured toward her books. "Oh, yeah, I did," Hermione managed. "I took another one, I hope…"

"That's fine…have a good night." The Empath smiled and disappeared behind her door. Hermione sighed with relief and entered the boys' room.

Two steps in and she froze. Her jaw dropped open.

"What do you think?" Ron asked eagerly with a huge, boyish smile on his face.

"You did this?" she asked, astonished.

His reply was hurt. "Is that so hard to believe?"

Yeah, actually it was. It was pretty much impossible to believe that the two large four poster beds, exact replicas of their dorm room beds in Hogwarts, had been transfigured by, well, Ron. "But you were only in here a few minutes," she protested.

Ron frowned. "We were in here for over an hour. You've learned plenty of spells that quick."

Yeah, but this was, well, Ron. Hermione always believed he wasn't working up to his potential, but this? Had he turned a corner? Would he go back to school focused and...?

If Hermione wasn't the smart one than who was she? How would she fit in? What would her role in Ron's life be?

"You could have some faith in me, Hermione. I'm not a complete incompetent."

The look on his face broke her heart and she felt deeply shamed for her awful thoughts. "No, of course you're not. It's just…it's amazing. I'm amazed," she said lamely.

He smiled then. "Adrianna said I'm a natural. She said I was probably good at Transfiguration before, but I was never asked to make anything I cared about. I mean, why would I want to turn a perfectly good rat into a goblet, eh?"

Ron looked boyish and eager and so craving of approval that Hermione just couldn't… "I always knew you could do it."

He smiled shyly at her, making her heart skip a beat.

"Eh hem," Harry cleared his throat. "So, I'm …er going down to the kitchen for a bit. When I come back I'm expecting that bed to be Imperturbable and no sounds to be coming out of it." He gave them a look that was at once amused, taunting, and excruciatingly embarrassed, before dashing out the door and closing it behind him.

He left Hermione feeling more awkward toward Ron than she had felt in months.

"So," Ron said, with a lop-sided grin. "You want to try?" He bounced on the bed for emphasis. "It feels as good as it looks."

It was the worst possible thing to say. Is that all he wanted her for? Was it all physical? Was she making the biggest mistake of her life? Hermione felt like crying.

"Hey, what's wrong?" Ron asked, with concern, sitting up fully.

She shook her head. "Nothing."

But she mustn't have been very convincing because he got off the bed and uneasily approached her. He fumbled a bit before wrapping his arms around her. Then he seemed to remember what to do and tenderly embraced her, rubbing her back with his hands and her hair with his cheek. "Really, what's wrong?"

Hermione sighed, relaxing into him, not knowing if his warm embrace made her feel better or worse. She shook her head into his chest. "I was just thinking about Adrianna is all," she confessed.

He pulled back with a long suffering look. "Hermione…."

"About her and Charlie."

He pulled away and crossed his arms. "About their secret?"

"Sort of." She looked at the floor. "Ron, do you think they're in love?"

Ginny couldn't sleep. Adrianna had said that the first time someone did wandless magic it was intense, that it changed one in the process, that the caster became the instrument of magic and not the wand.

Now the youngest Weasley knew exactly what she had meant. The magic was coursing through her veins, making it almost impossible to settle down and sleep. And she had only managed to bring the wand all the way to her hand one time.

But she had done it. She wasn't sure she could. Actually, she had been positive that she wouldn't be able to. Who would have thought a fifteen-year-old witch, an almost fifteen-year-old witch, could do wandless magic?

Ginny was on her bed, lying on her stomach with a quill in her hand and parchment on the hard bed before her. A single candle on the bedside table lit the room. Taking advantage of her time alone, also known as the time when Hermione abandoned her for her brother's bed, Ginny was trying to write a letter.

She was trying to write a letter to Dean Thomas, the boy who had been hinting that he wanted to be her boyfriend all summer long. And she had flirted right back. And she certainly never hinted that she wanted anything different.

Now, she stared down at the parchment, unable to think of a thing to say. Oh, yes there was always: 'Hello Dean, sorry I haven't written lately, but you see, I was attacked by Death Eaters and we had to go into hiding. Then Harry was missing, so… Oh you remember Harry, right? Your roommate, the one I've been obsessed with since the day I was born. So, you understand, I've been a bit distracted…'

Ginny sighed to herself. She began to write:

Dear Dean,

I've missed you…

Knock. Knock. "Gin, are you awake?"

Harry, of course, that boy had some timing. Quickly, she folded up her parchment and hid it under her pillow. "Yeah, come on in."

Harry entered shyly, closing the door behind him and sitting down across from her on Hermione's carefully rumpled, but entirely unused bed.

"Some day, eh?" he said, tapping his palms together nervously.

"Yeah," she said inanely, sitting up. Harry Potter was in her room, with the door closed…and they were alone…and she had just been writing a letter to her almost-boyfriend. Ginny was surprised that she could speak at all.

"Yeah and Ron still managed to transfigure our beds into the four poster variety. 'Drana actually had to enlarge the room so they would fit."

"Really?" Ron's sudden skill at Transfiguration was getting more interesting by the hour. Though to be truthful, it was making more and more sense to Ginny. Ron had always been a tad intimidated by Harry and Hermione and he tended to react to that sort of competition by giving up. It was the lazy way, plus it left less room for outright failure and rejection.

In fact, Ron had been the youngest Weasley child to show magical ability. Ginny remembered overhearing her Mum and Dad whispering about his potential when she was younger.

"Em hmm, don't you think it's a bit odd that Ron can do these things easily? I mean, Hermione couldn't even do it. I tried to transfigure my bed and it collapsed in a lump. Ron fixed it."

"Actually, now that I think about it," Ginny said carefully, "it makes rather a lot of sense, given what Bill and Charlie said about why Adrianna can do that magic." Harry looked at her skeptically. "It's just that he…he's always been really aware of the things we don't have and really appreciative of nice things. During first year he'd write letters about how soft the beds were and how smooth the sheets are. He always noticed stuff like that."

Harry frowned. "He never said anything."

"He doesn't want you to know how much it bothers him, being poor, I mean."

"Oh," was all he could say.

Suddenly feeling uncomfortable again, Ginny rushed to change the subject. "So did you come to my room in the middle of the night just to discuss Ron's magical prowess?" Oh god, that sounded suggestive, she needed to…. "Or are you just avoiding the love birds, or should I say the rehearsing love birds."

Harry laughed, making Ginny relax. "Well, I did figure," he responded, "that if I stayed away a bit, when I came back I could just pretend they were just sleeping behind those Imperturbled curtains."

"Good thinking."

Harry looked nervous; his hands were tapping again. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something."

'Me?' she wanted to ask, but knew she'd sound like that silly little girl she kept trying to convince people she wasn't. "What is it?"

Taking a deep breath Harry reached into his pocket and pulled something out. Tentatively, he held it in his outstretched palm.

"The watch," Ginny breathed, shifting to the edge of the bed and leaning over to look at it more closely.

Harry kept his eyes on the watch as he talked. "It's odd. It was as though it called to me. Directing me to take it and hide it, to not tell anyone."

"Except me?" Ginny asked in a light, joking way. Inside she felt anything but casual about the new trust Harry was placing in her.

He smiled guiltily. "Yeah, it seems so."

Act normal. She knew how to handle herself. "What's inside?"

Harry shook his head. "Dunno. I can't seem to open it."

Ginny pressed her tongue to her top lip, deciding. She bit her lip. "Can I see it?"

Harry nodded, extending his hand even further toward her. Ginny stood, reaching out her arm. She felt it acutely. First the tips of her fingers made contact with his palm. Then the cool gold touched her skin, and then… nothing was cold.

The first thing Ginny noticed was a warm tingling sensation radiating from the watch. She tried to pull away, but couldn't, then she didn't want to because an intensely pleasurable sensation shot up her arm. She vaguely noticed that their hands were glowing.

Ginny's snapped her eyes to Harry's as the pleasure filled her body and saw him gasp as he stared at her wide eyed. The sensation crested and faded. When she was finally able to withdraw her hand from the watch she did so slowly and was surprised to find she had taken it with her.

Suddenly her legs couldn't hold her. She collapsed onto the bed next to Harry. He shifted uncomfortably and leaned forward onto his knees. He took deep breaths before turning to look at her. "What the bloody hell was that?"

Had his eyes always been so intense, so green? Oh god, she was aroused… and he was expecting a response. All she could manage was to shake her head. She looked down at the object cradled in her palm. "Harry, it's open."

He leaned closer, making the throbbing she felt even keener. Ginny forced herself to look at the watch. She flipped it fully open. The base held three faces, one for the month, the day, and the time. On the underside of the cover was a year. "June 15, 1507, eleven- twelve in the morning," she read aloud. "Does that mean anything to you?"

Harry shook his head. "I think we should tell Adrianna in the morning. I shouldn't have…. It could be dangerous."

Tell Adrianna. They probably should, but somehow choosing her as the only person they told made Ginny nervous. "And Charlie…is that ok?"

He hesitated, but nodded. They sat in silence for long minutes before Harry said, "I reckon we should get to bed, we have to get up early and…I'm really drowsy now for some reason."

Now that he mentioned it, so was Ginny. "Yeah, all right, see you in the morning."

He smiled shyly as he left the room.

It wasn't until he was gone that she realized that he had left the pocket watch behind. She didn't know why, but she closed it and hid it in the bottom drawer before collapsing into bed.

Ginny was asleep before her head hit the pillow.

"Ron, do you think they're in love?"

Ron felt like he had been kicked in the gut. Never in his life had he had a discussion about love, never mind being 'in love.' It was a frightening topic, one he had avoided even contemplating.

But here he was, with Hermione looking up at him with those beautiful, expectant chocolate brown eyes, all soft and vulnerable and somehow it had never been this terrifying. What was she expecting of him? What did she want? He wished she'd just tell him what to say.

Just hearing the words 'in love' tumble from her lips made his heart squeeze, his stomach turn, something deep inside move….he really wasn't ready to contemplate what it was…Oh, god…it was Hermione, he couldn't put into words what he felt for her at the moment. He couldn't. He really didn't want to.

"I dunno," Ron croaked. "What do you think?"

They weren't touching any more. He had stepped away, but they were still close enough that Hermione had to tip her head back to look at him. "I'm not sure. I think they may be, or were at one point, or one of them…there's an intimacy, you know?"

Hermione bit her lip. Ron was having a really hard time remembering who she was talking about. Oh right, Charlie and Adrianna. Who cares anyway if they're in love? Why were they messing with his relationship…friendship with Hermione by making her talking about…things.

Was this even about Charlie and Adrianna? Because it really didn't feel like it.

Now Hermione was looking extremely vulnerable. What was he supposed to do now? He wanted to take her back into his arms, but he felt as though he couldn't. Would it mean something if he did? If he didn't? Did it matter? He couldn't think straight.

Hermione was looking at him, waiting for a response. He shook his head, hoping that would be some sort of answer to the question he forgot.

She sighed, crossing her arms and walking away from him, to sit on the bed he had transfigured just a little while ago. He'd been so proud of what he did. He wanted her to be proud as well.

"Can't you feel it? The tension between them?" she asked.

Was she still talking about Adrianna and Charlie? He took a deep breath and sat next to her, careful not to touch her. "Is…is that what love looks like?" he forced the words out, through a constricted throat.

Her response was annoyed. "I don't know, Ronald, that's why I asked 'do you think they are in love?'"

Great, now he was in trouble. He rubbed his sweaty palms against his pajama bottoms. "I…I dunno…I don't reckon I know anything about being in love…what it looks like…what it feels like. It's not something…I just dunno, Hermione."

He was the stupidest bloody idiot in the entire world and he was sure that Hermione knew it. Ron closed his eyes in shame.

Hermione's voice drifted to him softly. "I don't suppose anyone really knows about being in love until they are." Her voice was thick, but strangely emotionless. "They say you just know."

Ron's eyes snapped to hers. "That's completely daft!" he bit angrily, not understanding why he was so upset. "If…if you…if someone doesn't know what love means how the hell are they supposed to know if they're in it? It's just a word, Hermione. If you don't know the definition, you can't apply it…. You could be in love all along and…." His tirade sputtered and slowed, his heart beating quickly. "You might not know it."

Hermione searched his face, sighing softly. "I suppose that's true." He watched her swallow, transfixed.

Then a horrible thought occurred to him. "How do you know about being in love if you've never been?" he accused.

She turned her head away, making dread and jealousy fill him. "I reckon I don't," she said. She almost seemed teary. She stood. "Maybe I should sleep in my own bed tonight."

"What!" he roared, feeling as though he'd been kicked in the stomach, again. She paused but wouldn't look at him. Ron felt hurt…betrayed even. "That's not fair, Hermione. What did I do? You know I can't sleep without you. You know I need you. Why…" Ron turned away, disgusted with himself.

He felt her take his hand. He looked over and she smiled softly at him. "Let's just go to bed then." Hermione climbed into bed and used her wand to turn off the candles.

Ron hesitantly followed her and pulled the curtains down, cloaking them in darkness. He lay down on his back. Not one part of him touched her. Why did he make a bigger bed again?

"You did a nice job with the bed," he heard her whisper.

Ron smiled. "Thanks."

"Night, Ron."

"Night."

He stared at the top of the canopy, no hope of actually sleeping. Hermione's original question haunted him for some reason. Were Charlie and Adrianna in love?

He knew nothing of love, but he knew that Charlie cared for Adrianna. His brother said he once knew her as well as Ron knew Harry and Hermione. Did Charlie feel for Adrianna what he felt for Hermione? Whatever the hell that was.

And why had Adrianna left. Shite, if Hermione ever left him, he'd…

A horrible, restless desperation filled him. "Hermione?" he called.

"Mmm," he heard from the other side of the bed.

"You know, about Adrianna and Charlie…you won't ever leave, right? Because I wouldn't…. Just tell me if you want to leave or if you need something…we'll work it out or something…anything…anything you need. Just don't leave, ok?"

"Ron," she almost sobbed his name. He felt her fumbling for his hand and he grasped it firmly, holding on for dear life.

"Promise," he commanded.

"Ok…yeah, I promise."

Ron reached for her urgently in the dark. He found her face and felt relief; he cupped her jaw and felt her tears. He pressed his lips to hers with no small amount of desperation. Not like the previous desperation born of passion or lust…this desperation came from someplace deeper…darker…unseen.

He kissed her tenderly, slowly and open mouthed and she responded in kind. Ron poured every once of emotion that he couldn't name into that kiss. Feeling her tongue against his, feeling the insistent pressure of her lips and the taste of her tears, he knew that she was feeling some semblance of the turmoil and need that he felt.

It was all too much.

Hermione pulled away sniffing and he rubbed her cheeks with his thumbs, resting his forehead against hers, willing her to understand what she meant to him, even if he didn't understand himself.

She sighed and gave an almost laugh, embracing him and laying her cheek on his chest. Ron relaxed, rolling onto his back and taking her with him. He stroked her hair and kissed her crown.

They didn't speak. Eventually they slept. Before he succumbed, Ron allowed himself to question, just once….

Is this what it felt like to be in love?

It was the strangest dream that Harry had ever had, which was saying something. For one thing, he'd never been so acutely aware that he was having a dream.

He was in a castle…but not Hogwarts, somewhere else. There were house elves, in very fine matching blue and green towels. They were dressing him… in tights! He realized he was dressed in some sort of medieval crap. When he tried to look closer, he realized that he wasn't in control of his body. The man he was in the dream was lacing up his shirt, but Harry couldn't stop him from doing it.

Then a house elf held up a mirror and Harry understood why. He wasn't Harry. He was someone else; someone with brown hair, brown eyes and a beard.

An elf added an embroidered cream colored robe to his shoulders and the mirror addressed him. "You look very handsome, Lord Alexi. Quite fitting."

Only he wasn't addressed in English, it was…Russian? Maybe. The odd part was that somehow Harry understood it.

A man entered, a wizard perhaps, in long, heavily embroidered and jewel-encrusted blue and green robes. He looked like the man in the mirror, but older. The man greeted him with a proud smile and a clasp of the shoulder. "My son, you do your family proud today," he said in the same unfamiliar language.

Harry felt nervous…no, this man, Alexi, felt nervous. Harry was just along for the ride.

"Come, you must meet your bride."

And Harry understood why he felt nervous. Suddenly he knew, actually had the knowledge, that this would be the first time he would meet this woman and that today was his wedding day.

Why was he just nervous? He should be terrified.

Harry was lead out of the castle where the grounds were a sea of witches and wizards. He hadn't seen so many people since the Triwizard tournament. They were all here for a wedding?

He and his…father came to the front of the group of people, in the upper corner. In the opposite corner appeared a witch in embroidered cream robes identical to his own and wearing a heavy veil. She was also walking next to an older wizard.

As they approached each other, Harry could feel this man's fear, his trepidation. He felt Alexi's desire to turn and run. His hands shook as he walked toward the witch and he hid his hands in his robes. Then they were together in front of an altar and Alexi held his breath as her father lifted his bride's veil and uncovered her face.

All the breath left him.

The woman…no, girl, she couldn't be more than Harry's age, had long, soft strawberry-blond hair and clear blue eyes. Harry had never seen someone so beautiful. No… that was Alexi's thought, not Harry's. Though Harry thought she was…nice looking, very nice looking. There was something achingly familiar behind her eyes, which seemed to draw him in.

Now he was overwhelmed by Alexi's feelings of relief… of lust… of sheer happiness. Harry felt his face curve into a smile as he enthusiastically took her soft hands.

The girl smiled back shyly and blushed. She seemed pleased.

Alexi didn't take his eyes off of her for the entire ceremony. She kept glancing down bashfully, though, and Harry couldn't quite study that…that thing he saw in her eyes.

Harry learned that his full name was Alexander and that she...she was Helana. The ceremony was in still another language, but nevertheless, Harry understood.

All Alexi could think of was getting to kiss Helana… and oh…oh! Shite those were dirty thoughts he was hearing.

She did seem to have nice breasts.

But blimey, this man was a perv; she was like…Ginny's age. Alexi seemed obsessed with the wedding night. Harry could feel the arousal and he hoped that the dream lasted until the wedding night.

Shite, now he was the perv.

The ceremony was over and Alexi leaned down to kiss Helana with no little enthusiasm. The simple brush of lips was electrifying and Harry had never felt anything like it. Maybe this was just what it was like to kiss a girl who wasn't crying.

The cheers were deafening. Helena was smiling broadly and Alexi melted. Harry caught that look again….

There was a knocking, which didn't make sense since they were outside on the grounds. Then someone was calling his name…'Harry'… not 'Alexi.' They were insisting that he wake up.

Harry didn't want to stir. He wanted to see more of the dream. He wanted to talk to the girl. Pervert that he was he wanted to know more about this wedding night business…

But it was too late and the dream was fading…he was rousing. Harry's eyes opened.

Ron was already up and pulling on his jogging pants. "Better get a move on, mate. Your cousin's a real slave driver. Good thing Hermione's up at dawn, eh?"

Harry just nodded, barely listening, and got up to pull on his own jogging pants and t-shirt. Ron slipped out to the loo and Harry picked up the pace. He needed to talk to Ginny…before they talked to Adrianna and Charlie.

Rushing down the stairs he almost ran into the very person he sought. Ginny looked disheveled and distracted. Her hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail. Looking up at him, she determinedly grabbed the front of his shirt and dragged him into the drawing room.

"Harry," she whispered, her eyes wild. "We need to talk before we tell the others." She licked her lips. "I had the strangest dream."

Author's Note: If you'd like to read the NC-17 version, click on my "homepage" on my profile page and it will take you to Checkmated where you can apply for the bedchamber. Thanks.