Time Enough

by Scarlett71177

Ginny Weasley is awakened in the middle of the night by a ringing Muggle telephone. The caller, a Healer from St. Mungo's, has the information she's waited 5 long, lonely years for. Will the decisions of the past year haunt her? Can she move on?

19. Comeuppance

Harry awoke to a strange weight on his chest. It only took him a few seconds to realize what, or rather who it was. Ginny was draped across his body with her head resting comfortably in the centre of his chest. Her dishevelled curls were splayed out all around her like a sunrise cresting the horizon, and her arm was slung over him in a tenderly possessive way. The velvety smoothness of her bare skin pressed to his radiated a warmth and tenderness that he knew he would never forget. He could feel her breasts hugging his side as he began lazily tracing a path down her spine with his index finger.

Ginny stirred, but did not move. Instead, she moaned softly burying her face further into his chest and tightened her arm around his waist. Harry smiled and gently smoothed the hair away from her face with his fingertips and drew his knuckles down her cheek. Another contented sigh escaped her lips and she snuggled closer to the warmth of Harry's body, hooking her leg around his.

Harry was flooded with pleasant thoughts, memories and a strange contentment that the stars were finally aligned and almost every thing was right with the world - so much for taking their relationship slowly. But in all truth, he couldn't help himself when he was around her. She was intoxicating and addicting. They weren't rushing; they were picking up where they left off five years ago. He had Ginny (although he always had her) and now there were only paybacks to complete.

Ginny kissed the centre of Harry's chest, causing him to smile and snap out of his daydream.

"Mmm," he moaned, weaving his fingers through her hair, grazing her scalp.

She placed a series of open-mouthed kisses down the middle of Harry's chest, pulling the sheet out of the way of her progression. "Good morning," Ginny breathed against his skin.

Harry laughed and slipped his hands under her arms and hoisted her upward onto his chest, so he could look her in the eye.

"Morning, love," Harry whispered, tucking her hair behind her ear.

Ginny giggled and inched up to kiss the tip of his nose. "Hi."

"I'm going out on a limb to say that last night was the best day I've had in five years, three months and twenty-seven days."

"Me, too," she answered, folding her arms across Harry's chest and resting her chin on them. "How're we going to do this, Harry?"

"Do you want it badly enough?" he asked, stroking her silky hair.

"I want this; I want you more than anything, ever."

Her voice was steady and her eyes were intense. A beam of sunlight fell across the room from a gap in the curtains. The light illuminated her coppery-red hair, igniting it like fire in Harry's hands.

"Good, so do I," Harry answered with a smile. "But it's time I told you the truth about some things."

Ginny swallowed awkwardly. "Is something wrong?" she asked, startled by Harry's honesty. She tried sitting up, but Harry looped his arms around her, pulling her to his body. Was her worst fear about to come true? Was last night a payback just to break Ginny's heart as she had almost broken his?

"No. Stop. Listen to me, now; I can solve all our problems," he began as Ginny settled back against his chest.

"How?"

"I've thought it all through, and in some cases, I went as far as planning it out, but now I have to ask for your help."

Ginny's curiously was piqued. "Me? What do I need to do?"

"Two things: trust me implicitly and give me your engagement ring from Dean."

"What?" Ginny asked nervously, her brows knitting together in the middle.

"Do you still have it?" Harry asked, not showing any emotion.

"Erm, yeah," Ginny mumbled in reply.

"Good; can I have it?"

Ginny nodded with embarassment.

"It's OK, love. The meeting I had with Luna a couple weeks' back was to ask her to help me clear the air. We can kill two birds with one stone: Dean and the Prophet ...And then there's Snape."

"Snape?" Ginny asked with a confused expression on her face.

"Yes. He said some awful, hateful things about you and me, and I'm not letting him get away with it. He antagonized my parents for years; he's not doing that to us. I've enlisted Fred and George to help me and don't try and change my mind." Harry scowled and turned his head toward the window, squinting at the open space in the curtains. His eyes darkened, despite the sunlight filtering in.

"Harry?" Ginny whispered, leaning up and taking his face in her hands. She turned his head until their eyes were reunited. "Harry, don't spend your life getting revenge against everyone who's said or done something to you or me. Life is too short, too precious. Vengeance isn't worth it."

"No," he contradicted, "but you are worth it. Don't try talking me out of this, Ginny. I love you, and no one is going to hurt us anymore."

"Harry, I don't give a damn about Dean or the Prophet. The only opinion that matters to me is yours."

He would not hear of it. "Ginny, I have the ability to fix this, and I will. I don't think we should be seen in Hogsmeade or Diagon Alley together until this blows over. We should Apparate directly into the house. I'll Owl Luna and set things in motion."

"Oh, Harry," Ginny sighed sympathetically. "Always my Lancelot."

Harry blushed, remembering the comment Hermione had made during his fifth year about him having a 'saving people thing.' "I just want to make things right."

"That's part of the reason I love you. You're good, caring, and always want to right something when you can. I just don't want revenge to become your life. You're too good for that, Harry."

He knew she was right, in theory, but he could not let it go. Ginny had always deserved better than what she'd been dealt. True, she had a wonderful family who loved her, but she had been taken advantage of by Voldemort to lure him, Harry, into the Chamber of Secrets. Harry wanted to stand up for Ginny; she deserved it, and he would have done the same thing for Ron or Hermione. "If I'm too good for it, then so are you. So let me do the dirty work for both of us."

Ginny made a face and shook her head in disbelief. "I don't need my name to be cleared; I have you, and my conscience is clear."

Harry made to protest, but Ginny pressed a kiss to his lips, eager to change the subject. "So what's next?"

Harry sighed pensively. "I think we should go to the Burrow and explain our situation."

Ginny's eyes widened. "What exactly do you mean by situation? Harry, do not make me tell my mother we shagged four times last night. I won't do it."

Harry tried pasting on a brace face, but he knew she could see his apprehension. "Well, we don't have to tell them about any shagging, but let's face it - they know. Regardless, I think we owe them some truths, too. Not specifics, but truth. We need to tell them we've really and truly reconciled our relationship, learned the truth about each other, and that you'll be spending a lot of time here at Rose-Tree."

Ginny sighed apprehensively and wrapped her arms around Harry. She pressed her cheek tight to his bare chest and heard his laugh resonate through his chest. "What's so funny?" she asked indignantly.

"You... holding on for dear life."

She chuckled but spoke truthfully. "It's not funny, Harry; the prospect of losing you and living without you day after day was terrifying; I don't want to let you go. A part of me worried I never would have had this with you, again."

He suddenly felt a twinge of guilt and held her possessively. "What I went through wasn't awful for me at the time. I felt no pain; you bore it all. I'm sorry I underestimated your feelings. I'm glad you didn't give up, and I'm glad you're holding me tight. Don't ever let go, because I don't want to spend another minute wasted without you."

The rumbling of Ginny's stomach surprised both of them and caused laughter to break the quiet of the bedroom.

"Hungry?" Harry asked teasingly, tickling her sides through the sheets.

"Starving. You caused me to work up quite an appetite, Mr. Potter," she answered, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

Harry blushed and reached for his glasses on the nearby night table. "Well, me, too, actually and I can't guarantee what I might have here for breakfast."

Ginny smiled and leaned up to kiss him, once again. "I would love it if Harry Potter made me some toast and tea; that would be fabulous. I don't need anything fancy."

After an altogether too brief breakfast of tea and toast with orange marmalade whilst snuggled up together in Harry's bed, they began to ready for the trip to the Burrow.

Ginny retrieved her T-shirt and jeans from the small bag she'd packed and brought to Rose-Tree the night before. Harry, too, readied himself and put on the beige jumper Ginny had given him for his birthday. While Ginny waited for Harry, she stepped out onto the stone balcony adjacent to Harry's bedroom.

Her bare feet were instantly cool against the cut stones. A chilly wind whipped around her, entangling her hair in the breeze. Ginny gathered it into her hands and stared out at the grey, cloudy, cold sky as she wrapped her arms around her, hugging herself for warmth. Dark, heavy clouds hung low over the horizon. To Ginny, it was ominous; she was going to see her mother. How am I going to tell Mum that I'll be spending some nights here with Harry? Will she think I'm a scarlet woman, now? Does she already think it? Can Harry really clear my name? Should I even hold out hope? Ginny let out a broken sigh and watched the leaves drop off the trees and swirl around in the wind.

She shivered, suddenly wishing she had brought a jumper with her, and then she felt Harry wrap his arms around her.

"Cold?"

"Mm hmm," she nodded, closing her eyes and resting her head back against Harry's chest.

Harry kissed the top of her head. "It's going to be all right; it's not the end of the world, I promise. I love you."

Ginny couldn't help but smile and sigh. "And I you. I know it'll be OK."

Harry led her inside and shut the French doors behind them. He crossed the room to his bureau and pawed through the doors until he found what he was looking for. "Here," he declared proudly, producing one of the old Weasley jumpers Mrs Weasley had made for him. Harry beamed as he handed her the jumper, which was indigo blue with a large burgundy red 'H' in the centre of the chest.

Ginny's face cracked into a broad smile and pulled the jumper over her head. Yes, everything would be all right.

---

Harry and Ginny dutifully sat together on the couch, hands clasped together, as Molly Weasley raged on and paced back and forth across the floor. Arthur sulked on the far side of the room, looking quite embarrassed and hiding his eyes behind his hand. Harry had thought Mr Weasley would weigh in on the situation of the compromising of his daughter, but Harry was glad that he didn't.

Harry could appreciate Molly's concerns and took them seriously to heart. He understood the repercussions if the Daily Prophet found out they were spending time together; the bulk of his plan would be ruined. He knew that getting Dean to admit truths regarding his and Ginny's relationship was not only potentially dangerous, but it would require a lot of precision. Harry was not about to tell anyone else about the Snape prank involving Fred and George, but he had to let the Weasleys know how he felt about Ginny; he had wasted enough time being apart from her. He wanted to take care of her and let her reciprocate that care and concern. He would make them understand. It wasn't his wish to compromise Ginny any more than he already had; if she had told him she wouldn't come stay with him, he would have respected that. He would respect her, no matter what. Only months before, he was prepared to ask for her hand in marriage, and the depth and intensity of those feelings had not gone away.

As Hurricane Molly stormed away, Harry could feel the grasp of Ginny's hand tightening in his. The Weasley temper was flaring. Harry had, thankfully, never seen Bill, Charlie, or Percy exhibit any cantankerousness, but he had seen Ron's hundreds of times, Ginny's dozens of time, and Fred and George's only once: the day they were banished from the Quidditch team. Harry looked over at Ginny as Molly launched into a spiel about virtue and recognized the look on Ginny's face: Like a teapot ready to boil. Her face was red, right to the roots of her hair; her brow was furled, her lips pursed, and her eyes were focused firmly on her mum. Harry knew he had to interrupt; it was now or never, or Ginny would say something they'd all regret.

"Mrs Weasley, I love Ginny!" he nearly shouted, causing Arthur's hand to drop and Molly to turn around.

"And how do you know this, Harry?" she rounded on him, placing her hands on her hips and leaning over the two of them, finally noticing that Ginny was wearing the jumper she'd made for Harry several winters before.

"I have done and would do anything for her," Harry answered. "All I ever wanted was to protect her and give her everything she deserves. When I was training for the final battle, all I could think about was Ginny- that I was doing it, in part, for her- for all of you. And, in turn, she protected me, too. She gave me a shoulder to cry on, her constant support, and her everlasting love. I couldn't have made it without her. Now, I have the opportunity to do it again: to make everything better, somehow, and I'm going to do it. I wouldn't do anything to hurt her more than I already have; she's the priority in my life, and I want to make her happy. I will take every precaution that I can, and if Ginny ever, ever told me 'no' regarding any aspect of our relationship, I'd heed every word she said."

He wasn't yelling, but his voice was strong; he reckoned he shouldn't rise and stand before Molly, in effect, challenging her. Harry's green eyes were lit with a burning intensity as he gazed first at Mrs Weasley, then at Mr Weasley, who just sat, open-mouthed.

Harry felt Ginny let go of his hand, and when he turned to look at her, wondering why she'd let go, she took his face between her hands and kissed him right on the lips. Harry stiffened his body, fearful of what he might incur from the display of affection. Ginny broke the brief kiss with a smile and brushed the pads of her thumbs across his cheeks. "Thank you," she whispered.

They turned to look at the true adults in the room, both curious and slightly fearful of their reaction.

Molly's hand covered her mouth and her other hand rested over her heart.

"Oh, Harry," she cried emotionally. "I know you wouldn't hurt Ginny intentionally, but you're both so young, and you've been through so much. I worry about the two of you more than anyone."

"Mum," Ginny began, rising off the couch and extending her hands toward her mother, "we love each other, and we're willing to fight for what we want. We've done it once before, and we both know we've been through the worst. Harry and I can, and will, make it. I want to take care of him, and he wants to take care of me. I don't intend to spend every night with Harry, but I wanted to be mature enough to tell you up front and not skirt around behind your back. I'm twenty-two years old and I can make good decisions for myself. Charlie and Kat live together at the Dragon Camp, the twins and the girls all live together in the flat above the store, and you already know that Dean stayed with me at my flat sometimes."

Molly's eyes widened as her gaze shifted from Ginny to Harry.

"It's OK, Mum; Harry knows everything he needs to. I'm living under the roof here, and I'll obey by your rules when I'm here, but I love Harry, and I think we've suffered long enough without each other. Please trust and respect me, and I promise I'll do the same with you and Dad."

At the sound of his name, Arthur finally weighed in, "I'm hesitant, but I agree with Ginny. We've always been able to trust her, and I don't think Harry would do anything to compromise her."

Ginny smiled over at her father and finally turned back to Molly. "Mum, Harry and I want to start over, and we need time alone to do that. Please understand."

Molly began wringing her hands, her eyes darting back and forth very nervously between the other three people in the room.

"Mum, there's something else I want to tell you," Ginny admitted, looking down at the floor and scuffing the toe of her shoe on the carpet. "A-about Dean..."

She felt Harry's hand weighing lightly on the small of her back, encouraging her, as hot tears stung her eyes. "Mum, Dad, I accepted Dean's proposal with much hesitation. I needed someone- anyone. I needed someone to hold me and tell me everything would be all right; someone to support me and comfort me when Harry couldn't. I had everyone convinced that I was really trying to move on without Harry, but it was something I could never do. I felt so much pressure from the family and from Dean, but I didn't want to spend any less time with Harry at St. Mungo's. So I thought if I just seemed like I was OK with everything, you'd all let me be so I could keep spending time with Harry. In accordance with Dean's proposal, I willingly let him have some liberty with my reputation in order to keep my promises to Harry: the promises I made before the final battle; promises I intended to keep my entire life. I, um, didn't do any of the things with Dean that the Daily Prophet insinuated I did. I, er, never gave myself to him."

Molly and Arthur were visibly stunned. "Why would you do that, Ginny?" Molly demanded.

Ginny turned over her shoulder and reached out a hand to Harry. She gave his hand a little squeeze and smiled down at him. "I made a promise to Harry that I could not and would not break. That promise sustained me when I had all but given up hope; when Healer Borchard told me there was no hope left. I felt so isolated and alone and desperate for any attention. Dean gave me some of the support I needed to encourage Harry to wake up and to spend my days with him. Things just got out of control and spiralled downward so quickly. I found myself trapped and lost, but when I finally got the call from St. Mungo's that Harry had awoken, it was like I had come back to life, too."

Harry scowled and his brows furrowed in concentration. He wasn't sure that it was proper for a Healer to tell someone to give up hope. The wheels in his head were turning rapidly.

"Oh, Ginny dear, why?"

"Mum, there were things more important than my reputation and virtue. That promise I made to Harry was deeply personal and more important to me than anything I've ever undertaken. Harry is my one and only."

The tears crested in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. At long last, she had revealed information that could heal some of the burdens she had carried since meeting Dean at St. Mungo's that day. As Molly and Arthur stared on, shocked and stunned what their daughter had done in the name of love, for one man, Harry rose from his seat on the couch and pulled Ginny into his arms, comforting her tenderly.

"Shh, Gin, it's OK," he whispered, cradling her head to his shoulder. "I'm gonna make it OK."

Arthur fabricated a cough and startled the other three people in the room. "Um, Harry, how exactly are you going to make everything OK?"

Harry exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and turned to face Mr Weasley. He left his arm casually wrapped around Ginny's shoulders as he began to speak, "Well, I'm sure you know that Luna Longbottom runs The Quibbler -"

"Oh, Harry!" Molly gasped worriedly, covering her mouth with her hands.

Harry extended his hands, asking Mrs Weasley to stop the progression of her statement. "Now, I know Luna is a bit unique, but I know she would never do anything to hurt Ginny; they've been friends for some time. I asked Luna to help by writing an article to clear Ginny's name and contradict everything the Prophetsaid, and she's agreed to do it."

"But, what about the particulars? Harry, the Prophet has made some very specific accusations about Ginny -" Arthur began, before Harry interrupted him.

"I'm not sure, but I'm very suspicious of that Healer at St. Mungo's. It's not very proper or ethical to advise someone to give up on a patient. I think I'll be paying him a visit. I will do this. I will clear Ginny's name."

Harry, Ginny, Molly, and Arthur sat through dinner, staring down at their plates in an awkward silence. Harry was beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea.

He was sure that Molly and Arthur Weasley were sure he'd gone spare and couldn't achieve the results he seemingly desired. They both warned him about raising his hopes too high, but gave him full credit for admiralty and good intention.

"Just be careful, Harry; you know personally how low the Daily Prophet can go; how they can dig deep and make something out of nothing, just to sell some silly newspapers."

"Mrs Weasley, I see your point and I know the truth behind it, but it's just something I have to do. Clearing Ginny is worth it to me, even if by some twist of fate, I end up back on the front page myself, at least I've taken the attention away from her in the process."

Ginny looked back down at her half-eaten meal. She was embarrassed that it had come to this, at all. She was trying with all her might to not hope, but a positive feeling was consuming her because it was difficult not to believe in Harry. He had never truly let her down, but somehow, this was different. This situation was her fault and not Harry's, but he had snatched it up and adamantly chosen to do something about it. She was startled from her thoughts when she felt Harry's hand gently resting on her thigh.

"You OK?" he mouthed wordlessly as Molly rose from the table to retrieve the bread pudding for dessert.

Ginny nodded in reply and forced a smile. She was wrong. It was impossible not to believe in Harry.

Harry and Ginny were left alone and had retreated to the living room as Arthur volunteered to help Molly with the dishes.

Looking over his shoulder, ensuring Mr and Mrs Weasley were still occupied in the kitchen, he pulled Ginny into his arms and rested his forehead against hers.

"As much as I hate to admit it, I don't think I should stay with you tonight," Ginny began while she nuzzled Harry's nose with her own. "I don't think it's good to set a precedent"

Harry closed his eyes as he sighed with frustration and brushed his lips against Ginny's, nibbling at her top lip during one pass. "I know."

They stood there, fighting the urge to take their affection further, and they slowly exhaled, letting their breaths intermingle. Harry began to reach out to her, but clenched his fists in mid-air and returned them to his sides. When Ginny's whimper reached his ears, it proved to be too much to bear.

He grabbed her by the belt loops of her jeans and pulled her crashing into his body. He hungrily captured her lips, immediately deepening the kiss and enticing her tongue into his mouth. His hands ached to reach under the hem of the woollen jumper she wore. My jumper, Harry reminded himself as he smiled against her lips.

"What's so funny?" Ginny asked, breaking the kiss.

"Have I told you how adorable you look in that jumper?" he wondered, encircling his arms around her.

"No, but I do look cute, don't I?" she teased, looking down at the large, red 'H' woven into the pattern. "Since I'm wearing this, does it mean I'm yours?" Her voice was hopeful but shy.

"Only until forever," Harry answered with a smile, letting his hands grasp the itchy fabric to hold it tight.

"That's good enough for me," Ginny answered, grinning while a scarlet blush crept over her cheeks.

Harry returned the smile but sighed reluctantly. "I should go. I've gotten exactly no work done this weekend, and I should Owl McGonagall; I want to talk to her tomorrow."

Ginny understood and forced a nod. "OK."

"Sure you won't rethink coming over tonight?" Harry inquired, waggling his eyebrows flirtatiously.

"Don't tempt me," Ginny answered, playfully slapping his chest.

"Will it work, if I tempt you?"

"Yes, but I'd never let you know that," she joked. "In all seriousness, my parents probably already think I'm some kind of tart; let's give them a day or two for it all to sink in."

Upsetting Mr and Mrs Weasley was the last thing Harry wanted to do. He cared for, admired, and respected them more than anyone he could think of. "You're right. I'd better go." Harry released his hold on the jumper and took one step back.

"I'll miss you," Ginny admitted sheepishly, looking down at the floor. "I'll miss that you're not lying next to me."

Harry shook his head and sighed as he closed the distance between them again. "Me, too, Freckles," he teased, leaning into to pepper her face with kisses, whereas it was already peppered with freckles.

She giggled and half-heartedly tried squirming away from him as Molly and Arthur returned from the kitchen. All four of them instantly froze and looked around the room at one another.

Harry recovered first. "Well, better go. Love you, Gin." He pressed one last chaste kiss on her lips and gave her a quick wink as he prepared to Apparate away.

---

Harry awoke early the following morning and sent Hedwig up to Hogwarts with a letter for Headmistress McGonagall. He was asking for permission to speak with her briefly before classes began that morning. He added a postscript to tell her that it was important.

While he waited for the Headmistress's reply, Harry readied himself for work. He had a difficult time keeping himself on task, due to his thoughts inadvertently drifting to Ginny. He would pause every so often, lost in thought, and smile fondly.

Harry decided it was still too early to Owl the Longbottom residence, even though he was sure they were probably awake, so he Apparated directly to the gates of Hogwarts.

As he passed through the entrance, which was flanked by the two winged boar statues, Hedwig met him with a letter clutched in her talons. Harry smiled as she alighted on his outstretched arm. She seemed to wait patiently while Harry removed the white envelope from the grasp of her feathered feet and began reading.

Harry was granted permission to see McGonagall at his earliest convenience, and his eyes scanned to the bottom of the letter where the password he would need was written in a hasty addendum. He laughed audibly and cast an Incendio Spell on the letter, burning it instantly.

"Good girl; thanks, Hedwig," Harry called as he watched her take off in flight toward the mountains. He smiled at the raptor and hurried up toward the castle.

He traversed the halls of his Alma Mater and found himself standing in front of the stone gargoyle on the second floor, outside the Headmistress's office.

"Catnip," Harry uttered, watching the statue spring to life and open the stairway up to McGonagall's office.

Just as Harry was about to knock on the door, McGonagall called out 'Enter' from the interior of the office. She's getting more and more like Dumbledore every day, Harry thought as he pushed the door open and found McGonagall staring out the window.

"I saw you walking up," she said absentmindedly, still staring out the window. "What seems to be the problem, Harry?"

Harry set his satchel down and sat in a chair across from her desk. "I may be jumping to conclusions, but I'm becoming increasingly concerned about the actions of my Healer at St. Mungo's."

"Oh?" McGonagall asked, suddenly turning around and striding toward her desk. "Why do you think this?"

Harry cast his eyes down to the floor and folded his hands in his lap. "I don't know. Ginny has told me that Healer Borton had told her to give up hope that I would awaken, and I think that's unusual.

"Highly," The Headmistress agreed, slowly nodding her head before resting her chin on her tented fingers. "What is your concern?"

Harry shrugged. "That's just it; I'm not sure; I just have a feeling that something isn't on the level there. I really want to have some sort of justification to speak with Healer Borton, instead of acting as I would have in the past: charging in and making accusations."

McGonagall let a thin smile escape her lips. "Brilliant assessment, Harry," she began as the weak smile began to fade. "I don't think Miss Weasley's fears are irrational. Though she has been through a very emotional ordeal during the past year or so, she's too sensible to overreact to the degree of paranoia. I can think of a perfectly rational explanation for you to request a copy of your medical history, if you think it would help."

"How?"

"Legally, I'd need them, anyhow, even if every aspect of your life hadn't been printed in the Daily Prophet; Hogwarts keeps a copy of the medical history of each of the staff and students here. Of course, they're under lock and key in Madame Fenwick's office, and we have your medical history up through the final battle, but the five years you spent in St. Mungo's are missing. Simply go into St. Mungo's and request a copy for your employer."

Harry's eyes widened. This made total and complete sense. It wasn't out of the ordinary, it wasn't underhanded, and it wasn't sinister in any way. It was completely orthodox. He smiled modestly. "I never would have thought of that."

Harry felt more at ease after having spoken to McGonagall; his concerns were not unfounded. He spent the rest of his day feeling distracted and jotted random notes down on spare bits of parchment between his lectures that day. How would he know if the Healer had been lying outright or had been telling him the truth?

His thoughts continued to consume him even as he consumed his lunch. His eyes roamed the Great Hall as he half-heartedly listened to Neville prattle on next to him about Merlin knows what (he was beginning to sound like Luna), and suddenly, he caught Snape looking down the table at him. Probably using Legilimency to read my thoughts, Harry conceived, returning the older wizard's menacing stare. And then, the answer hit him.

Legilimency. He'd been trained in both Occlumency and Legilimency in sixth year by Dumbledore and Snape conjointly. Why hadn't he thought of it before? He felt thick, as he could have spared Ginny and him so much pain, grief, and trouble. True, he hadn't used many of his Wizarding skills for years, but maybe it was time to start practicing again.

---

It was Tuesday evening before Harry and Ginny had the opportunity to meet up again. As planned, Ginny Apparated directly into the house and joined Harry in his study, where he was busily reading essays at his desk. After smothering each other in kisses, Harry began to recount the conversation between the Headmistress and him and his epiphany moment when he remembered Legilimency.

"I'll help, if you want some practice, Harry," Ginny offered, sitting on the edge of Harry's desk and running her fingers through his untidy black hair.

"I don't know. Do you think it's a good idea, Gin?" he asked, resting his head against her abdomen, letting her fingers continue combing through his hair. He was worried what he might see, if he delved inside her mind.

Ginny instinctively picked up on his apprehension and had a pretty good idea why he was fearful. He was afraid he would see a moment between Ginny and Dean. "Harry, listen," she began, reaching under his chin to tilt his face upward. "I have put Dean out of my mind, and if there were a way to rid myself of those memories, I would. I am in love with you; I always have been. Trust me."

Harry looked up into her warm, chocolatey brown eyes and felt some of his reservations melting away. "Gin, I -"

She quickly pressed a finger to Harry's lips and silenced his protest. "Please, I want to help; it's my fault we're in this situation, anyway. Please? Just trust me."

Her voice was soft and breathy and Harry instantly realized it was creating a whole new problem: arousal. "Um, er, yeah," Harry answered, hearing his voice jump from one octave to another as he nervously rose from the chair and took Ginny's hand, leading her toward the centre of the room.

"What do I do?" she asked as Harry positioned her on one side of the room and himself on the other.

Harry reached inside his robes, retrieving his wand from the inside pocket. "Just think and don't break eye contact. Try to focus on just one thought or memory, and don't let too much emotion invade your thoughts or you'll make it easier for me. Let's try this once, and if it goes well, I'll teach you a way to defend yourself, making it more difficult for me to penetrate your, er, your mind. Ready? Remember, don't break eye contact."

She closed her eyes for a brief moment, focusing herself. Ginny nodded and smiled. "I'm ready."

Harry sighed hesitantly and gathered his own thoughts. He forced himself to bring back all the sessions with Snape and Dumbledore and the skills he learned. He cleared his mind and opened his eyes, gazing across the room at Ginny.

"Legilimens!"

Harry felt his mind being pulled into a fathomless, black abyss. Colours and lights flashed by him as he delved deeper and deeper into Ginny's mind. The colours all seemed to come into focus as the setting around King's Cross Station fell into place. He was seeing himself from Ginny's perspective.

He was barely eleven years old again and was standing all alone on the platform between Nine and Ten, carrying his trunk and Hedwig's cage as he looked down at the ground. He was nervous and scared and didn't know a soul in the wizarding world except for Hagrid, and the Dursleys, the only family he'd ever known, had just abandoned him. He suddenly noticed the gaggle of red haired children crowding around their mother and he spoke up, "Excuse me?"

He had approached Mrs Weasley, asking her how to get onto the platform, while her five children watched in awe. Harry quickly made it through the barrier and sawGinny, from her perspective, go through onto Platform 9 3/4 and then stare at the bright scarlet steam engine ahead of her. By then, Harry had disappeared onto the train, and the twins were rushing toward Ginny and her mum. They told them that they'd just met Harry Potter, and the only girl among all those boys finally reacted. She begged her mother to permit her to board the Hogwarts Express, and when she was refused, she resorted to standing on tiptoe to look into the train windows for Harry Potter. That image held for several minutes while she said goodbye to each one of her brothers, who were promising they'd write and send a Hogwarts toilet seat, and then they hugged her before boarding the train.

She watched billows of smoke and steam pour from the train's engine as it began to chug slowly down the tracks. Ginny looked up at her mother for permission, which was given in a nod, and she began running along behind the train, half laughing, and half crying. When her little legs could no longer keep up with the accelerating steam engine, she stopped on the tracks and waved until the train had gone round the bend.

Harry felt the rushing feeling again as he retreated from the inner workings of her mind. He saw the colours blur past him once more and felt slightly dizzy as he finally removed himself from Ginny's mind.

"Whoa," he gasped, staggering backward, dropping his wand and reaching for the nearest solid object to take hold of.

"Are you OK?" Ginny asked quickly, hurrying to Harry's side.

"Yeah," Harry admitted, not sure he was telling the truth. It had been a long time since he'd used magic that advanced or that powerful. Of course, it would be different when he confronted Healer Borton, when that time came. He would use it to determine if he was lying and not to recall particular memories; using Legilimency without proper permission was just as unethical as the Healer telling Ginny to give up on Harry. The connection he'd just had with Ginny was more powerful than he had anticipated it would be. The memory itself was full of emotion for both of them. Years after their initial meeting, they had reflected on meeting each other for the first time at King's Cross.

Harry stooped to pick up his wand and saw the concerned look on Ginny's face. "I'm OK, really." He was taken by surprise by the deep emotion behind the memory. He and Ginny had spoken of it many times, but to see it and feel it from her perspective was heart warming. She was so little, so innocent, and so excited to see him. How could it have taken him almost five years to notice her at Hogwarts? There had been several exchanges between them over the years - dozens, perhaps - but nothing as epiphanaic as their first meeting. If he hadn't had the courage to ask Mrs Weasley about how he should go about getting to Platform 9 3/4, maybe he and Ron would not have become such good friends, and he would not have spent his summers at the Burrow getting to know all the Weasleys, Ginny included. "Your memory was the day we met at King's Cross. It was different, actually, seeing it from your perspective, as opposed to my memory of it."

Ginny giggled and blushed, reaching her hand out for Harry's. "I suppose it was easy for you to remember it. It's hard for me not to be emotional about it. That was one of the best days of my entire life."

Harry grinned and pulled her into his arms. "Me, too. I don't want to imagine what would have become of my life if I hadn't met your family. I don't want to imagine my life if I hadn't met you." He pressed a kiss to her lips and held on to her tightly. He wound his fingers up into her hair and felt thankful for the presence of her in his life. It was a moment he never wanted to forget, and a moment he didn't want to end.

"I'm sorry," Ginny stated after a few moments. "I'm keeping you from your preparation." She moved away before Harry could reach out and pull her back into the warmth of his embrace.

"Oh, er, it's OK," Harry declared, feeling empty from the absence of her in his arms as he watched her return to her place on the opposite side of the room.

"So, what's next?" Ginny asked cheerfully, the bright light of the room making her eyes twinkle. "This is kind of fun."

It hadn't been fun when Harry had been forced to take Occlumency lessons all alone with Snape. Maybe it would have been more fun with Ginny. "Um..." Harry thought for a moment while twirling his wand around in his fingers. "Let's try something different, this time."

Harry stowed his wand into his back pocket and stood across from Ginny. "Don't think of a memory; think of an emotion instead: fear, happiness, concern- anything. Don't let the expression on your face change, though. Don't look scared or happy; just try and look normal. I won't be able to cast a Legilimency Spell on the Healer, so I'll have to attempt this method. It's subtler, but I'd done it several times growing up without knowing it. Follow me?"

Ginny nodded. "I think so."

"Ready? Just think of an emotion, no particular situation, and don't make eye contact this time. Look at the floor, the ceiling, close your eyes... anything."

The fog from Harry's own mind faded as he entered Ginny's mind. Things were not as compartmentalized as he had made them seem when he had explained it to Ginny. He could see Ginny standing in front of him as he searched her mind at the same time. She wore a definite smirk and averted her eyes up toward the ceiling.

Harry was busy trying to gauge her emotions. She was not scared and wasn't worried; it was a positive feeling bordering on happiness. Whatever this mysterious emotion was, it was not something he had practice uncovering before. She was exuding a distinct feeling of warmth - physical warmth; she was blushing. So, it was an embarrassing feeling? No, it was a positive feeling. Shame generally was a negative emotion and affected Harry accordingly. Frustrated, Harry closed his eyes and let out a slow breath. Across the room, Ginny's feeling intensified. Whatever the emotion was, he, in some part, had an effect on it.

He sensed that she continued to feel warm inside, but a tingling feeling had begun to accompany it. In normal circumstances, Harry would not have chosen to accept the feelings of another person he was attempting to read, but he was flustered and utterly perplexed. He sighed again and allowed his body to replicate the feelings that Ginny was feeling. He'd never tried anything quite this difficult.

Something else became obviously hard as he took in her body's reaction to the emotion. It didn't take him long to figure it out; as certain parts of his body became engorged, he realized that she was turned on. The emotion she was feeling was arousal. No wonder Dumbledore never taught me to recognize this emotion, Harry thought, wondering what he should do next.

He broke the spell much more gracefully than the first time, noticing she still had the innocent look on her face while her thoughts had been anything but innocent. His fingers loosened the knot in his tie as a sly smile spread across his face.

"You're a very naughty girl, thinking things like that while I'm trying to practice magic," Harry declared, swaggering slowly toward Ginny. His eyes were burning with intensity and his voice was low, gravelly, and drawn out.

Ginny was blushing like mad and smiling with her bottom lip held delicately between her teeth. "So, you guessed how I was feeling then, Mr Potter?"

Harry snorted. "Yeah, just barely though, Dumbledore never taught me how to recognize that feeling, you see," he admitted, pulling the tie from around his neck and lassoing it around Ginny's waist, pulling her nearer.

"I should hope not," she teased, laughing and throwing her head back.

Harry saw the opportunity presented to him and leaned down and brushed his lips over the taut, angled muscles of her neck and throat. Ginny purred like a kitten as Harry tightened his hold on the necktie and pulled her toward the desk on the other side of the room. He tore his lips away from the smoothness of Ginny's skin to mumble a brief Colloportus Spell, ensuring they would not be disturbed by any wandering house elves.

Harry's bum bumped into the side of the desk, inhibiting their movement. "Evanesco," Harry declared with a simple snap of his fingers, vanishing the paperwork that had littered the desk only moments before. He hoisted Ginny up and set her down atop the desk.

"Oof!" Ginny squeaked as Harry plopped her down on the desk. She giggled and Harry beamed as he stepped between her thighs, and Ginny hooked her legs around him and continued to unfasten the closure on Harry's robes and went to work unbuttoning the buttons of his shirt.

Harry slipped his hands behind her neck and pressed his palms against her hot skin. He slowly guided her lips toward his. The kiss was soft, warm, and tender and seemed to fuse the two of them together. She smoothed open the front of Harry's shirt and gently let her fingertips guide the fabric over his shoulders and down his arms. Harry thought he might melt under her hands like a Honeyduke's Chocolate bar that softened in warm hands.

Disappointed that so much of Ginny was still covered by her aqua green Mediwitch scrubs, Harry sought silent permission to remove the offending garments. He was given a sly smile and an eager head nod as she helped to remove the top. It joined Harry's on the floor of the study as he leaned in and pressed another kiss to her lips.

"I want you," Harry groaned in a low, husky voice, breaking the kiss and trailing his lips over one side of her neck. He wrapped his arms around her and leaned forward, causing her back to arch as she lowered herself further onto the desk. He guided her back slowly, watching her body as he bent down over her.

"Then take me, I'm yours, all yours," Ginny purred, feeling Harry's lips descend upon the warm skin of her abdomen, leaving soft kisses up the centre of her chest. He nipped playfully at her through the lacy fabric of her bra and watched her close her eyes. She looked like she was in sweet agony. Her hands were woven deeply into her own hair, pulling it away from her flushed face. The sound of her breath was airy and raspy and only inflamed Harry's excitement. When she whispered his name, he lost all control and reason. He startled her by stepping away from her body to remove his shoes and began to fumble awkwardly with the buckle of his belt and the closure on his trousers.

Ginny tipped her head back in laughter as she watched the ultimate struggle that ensued.

"It's not funny," Harry contradicted her, hurrying to rid himself of his clothing.

Ginny continued to giggle. "I'm sorry, you're right; it's hilarious."

Harry's mouth gaped open as he pasted on a face of mock indignation. "Oh, that's it; you're going to get it," he threatened.

"Promise?" Ginny asked in a cheeky voice as she propped herself up on her elbows in effort to watch Harry's battle with this trousers.

Harry smiled confidently as he finally slid his pants over his hips and let them fall to the floor. "You're about to find out, aren't you?" he replied, kicking the fabric aside.

Ginny laughed as he strode toward her. She made to draw her feet up onto the desk, to play 'keep away' and tease him just a little longer, but his reflexes were too fast and he caught her by one ankle. She squealed and tried, to no avail, to pull her leg out of his grasp. Harry quickly ripped off her shoe and tucked her leg under his arm as he removed the sock and began to tickle her foot furiously. She was shrieking and laughing, all the while trying to pull her foot from Harry's firm grasp. Her laughter was addictive and made Harry laugh his best evil laugh.

"Mmwa-ha-ha! Not so funny now, are you?" he teased, watching her write around on the desk below him. "Had enough?"

"Yes!" she gasped breathlessly, pounding her fists on the top of the wooden desk.

Harry smiled and let go of her foot and stepped between her thighs again, placing his palms flat on the desk and leaning over her. Propped up on her elbows once again, Ginny smiled and crooked her finger, beckoning him closer. He caught her lips in an impassioned kiss as his hands strayed to the waist of her trousers and began to tug on them.

Ginny positioned her feet up on the edge of the desk and lifted her hips as Harry pulled the scrubs and knickers off in one dramatic step and threw them hastily halfway across the room. Harry slid his hands up her thighs and bent down over her body to kiss her once again.

There in the study, amongst the dusty books, rolls of parchment, old Gryffindor school memorabilia, and the shocked occupants of wizarding photographs, two bodies joined in a heated, lustful, wanton passion. Harry eagerly took what Ginny gave freely: her love and the promise that Harry would forever be her one and only. Harry gave into the cravings, the want of the human body, the hunger. He was filled with such emotion as the wave of release crested over his body that he clutched Ginny to his chest, vowing to never let her go.

---

Planning revenge was going to be of the utmost importance. It had to be perfect, precise, and above all, it had to exonerate Ginny. Over the next couple of weeks Harry practiced his old Legilimency exercises on a daily basis. He never peered inside the minds of those who innocently provided their assistance, rather, he tried to ascertain their emotional aura at the time. He felt guilty, but it was necessary.

If his memory wasn't failing, Healer Borton primarily worked the evening shift. Harry instantly saw the advantage to this. He would make plans to visit St. Mungo's at night, and with any luck, he would be able to speak with the Healer alone, without being interrupted. He needed to focus his concentration, control his temper and, above all, keep his goal in sight. He would show up at St. Mungo's under the premise of needing his medical records, and ask some innocent questions and monitor the Healer's mood and behaviour. Harry still had the odd feeling that something wasn't quite right. There had to be hole somewhere - a mistake in diagnosing his condition? Why would a Healer tell Ginny to give up? Should he have died? Did someone interfere? Was he given a poisonous potion? This had to work; if it didn't, he couldn't see any other means of learning the truth.

One evening, late in October, Harry stood in the atrium of Rose-Tree, fastening his cloak securely around himself. He let out a deep sigh, removed his wand from the back pocket of his trousers, and prepared to Disapparate just as Ginny Apparated into the cottage.

"Harry!" Ginny greeted him excitedly, enveloping him in an embrace and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Hello, love. Where are you off to?"

Harry winced and roughed up the back of his hair. "Well, I thought I'd, er, go to St. Mungo's tonight and speak with Healer Borton."

"Are you ready?" she asked nervously, gazing intently into his eyes and hesitating in removing her own cloak. She wasn't sure they'd prepared enough nor was she sure he should attempt this on his own, worried that he would get too caught up in his feelings for her.

"You can't go with me, Gin," he replied, shaking his head, almost reading her thoughts. "I'm as ready as I ever will be. I need to do this alone. He'll be suspicious, if you're with me; he won't tell me the truth."

Harry reached out a hand for Ginny, which she took hesitantly and stepped inside the safety of his arms. She couldn't shake her insecurities. "Harry, I -"

But he silenced her protest with a swift peck on the lips. "It's OK. I'll be fine. A Healer from St. Mungo's isn't going to attack me in the middle of the hospital," Harry declared, reaching up to unclasp the closure of her cloak. "Wait here for me, and I'll tell you everything when I get back; I shouldn't be long." He eased the garment from around her shoulders and banished it over to the coat rack in the corner. He smiled, trying to ease the worried expression on her beautiful face. "It's OK," he scoffed, adding a laugh. "I'll be right back."

He tapped a freckle right in the centre of her nose and kissed her forehead. "Make yourself comfortable; I'll be back soon."

Harry Apparated into the Designated Apparition Point inside St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries and proceeded upstairs to the ward he had occupied for five years. He didn't make eye contact with anyone as he ascended the stairs and traversed the corridors, unobtrusively going about his business.

He stopped at the Fourth Floor Healers' Station and noticed a petite, bespectacled witch sitting behind the counter, looking at the most recent issue of Witch Weekly. Her mousey brown hair was knotted in a bun, and her lime green healer's robes seemed about two sizes too large for her small frame. Her legs were tucked up underneath her bum, and she looked quite relaxed with a lackadaisical smile on her face, gazing down at the article she was reading.

"Excuse me?"

The witch behind the counter jumped with a start and clutched her hands to her chest as she gasped. "Galloping gargoyles, you scared the life out of me!"

An apologetic look appeared on Harry's face as he tried to reassure the young woman in front of him. "Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, I was, er, looking for Healer Borton. Might he be on duty tonight?"

She squinted sceptically at him as she discarded the magazine and rose to her feet. "Are you the family member of a patient?"

Harry shook his head and swallowed nervously. "Erm, no. I'm a former patient; I just wanted to speak with him."

The woman was now standing directly across from Harry on the other side of the counter; she was close enough for Harry to see that she wore the badge of a Healer in Training. Her expression changed drastically as Harry smiled innocently at her, hoping to use whatever charm he had to get his way.

"You're Harry Potter!" she proclaimed, her mouth dropping open in surprise.

Harry blushed and tried smiling in what he hoped was a debonair manner. "Yes, I am. Is Healer Borton in?"

The Healer in Training coloured as well and bashfully cast her eyes downward. "Sure, could you just wait here one moment, please?"

She covered her mouth and giggled as she strode away quickly, her robes swishing along behind her. Harry drummed his fingers on the countertop. He finally had the chance to notice that his stomach was fluttering and his heart was pounding very loudly. His mouth felt suddenly dry, and he wondered if he would be capable of speech. He looked down at his hands to find them clammy and shaking.

Harry forced himself to take a deep breath and began to clear his mind. He closed his eyes and began to inhale through his nose and exhale from his mouth. He concentrated on the breathing exercises and not on the situation that would soon lie before him. He could feel his heart rate slowing, his muscles relaxing, and his mind un-fogging. Behind him, a noise attracted his attention. He spun around and found that he was face to face with Healer Josh Borton.

"Good evening, Mr. Potter; is there something I can help you with? I trust nothing is wrong?"

The voice of Healer Borton sounded strangely formal and mechanical as he spoke up. He wore a look of concern, but was clearly apprehensive.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," Harry began, shaking his head back and forth. "But it appears that some of my medical records are missing from my file at Hogwarts, which is where I work now. The policy at Hogwarts mandates that my medical files be updated. I was wondering if you could get me a copy of my medical history from my time here at St. Mungo's?"

"Um, sure, Mr Potter. There isn't anything wrong, is there? Ah, have you been feeling OK?" Josh Borton was wringing his hands, but upon noticing his own nervous behaviour, he folded his arms tightly across his chest and stood a little straighter.

Harry raised an eyebrow and began picking up the nonverbal cues from Healer Borton. One didn't need magic to see what was going on. Harry could instantly see that Borton was nervous; he was stammering and stuttering, and he displayed some aggressive behaviour, as well, folding his arms across his chest, symbolically sealing himself off to unwanted attention.

He didn't know where the Healer in Training was, but he hoped she would stay occupied for a while longer. Healer Borton diverted his eyes to the ground and stepped behind the counter and squatted down behind two file cabinets beneath the desk. He began rifling through the files, mumbling, "Potter... Potter."

"I feel fine, but I have been experiencing some - flashbacks," Harry lied.

Healer Borton's head popped up from below the desk. "Flashbacks?" he asked, setting the file on the counter and rising to his full height.

"Mm hmm, flashbacks," Harry declared, watching the Healer's pale hands shake with nervousness.

"What kind of flashbacks?"

"I don't rightly know. I can recall hearing Ginny crying and promising me that she'd never give up on me, no matter what, even if people were trying to convince her that I was a hopeless case." Harry was beginning to experience some frustration because the other man would not meet his eyes. That was never a good sign; even with Muggles. Perhaps it was a common trait of unsavoury characters?

Josh Borton began sorting through the files in Harry's folder, refusing to look up at Harry's face. "Maybe it was a dream," he suggested.

Harry shook his head. "No, no I don't think so," he said thoughtfully, as if considering his own mind at that very moment. "I've been capable of recalling precise conversations or events that took place in my presence over the last five years. I'm sure it was a memory. I hate to think of Ginny and the rest of the Weasleys agonizing over having to make a decision like that: deciding whether or not to give up on me. It makes me wonder that if I was such a hopeless case, why did I recover at all? And who tried to convince Ginny to abandon me? This matter greatly upsets me."

Healer Borton glanced up at Harry briefly before looking at the papers once again. "I can see why. It's highly unethical."

"I agree," Harry began, attempting to look down at the Healer, trying to maintain eye contact. "It concerns me immensely, and I'm determined to get to the bottom of this."

Harry could sense the worry from the other man as he finally met Harry's eyes. He burrowed inside the mind of Josh Borton, astounded by the rapid heartbeats, the shortness of breath, and the beads of sweat forming on the brow of the Healer. Harry knew he was on the right track, now; Borton was scared and behaving appropriately.

Harry continued to gaze inside of the Healer's mind as he spoke again, "I don't suppose you'd know anyone who would tell Ginny Weasley that I was a hopeless case, do you?"

The Healer stuffed Harry's files back into the folder and gathered up the copied parchments into his shaking hands. "No, I don't know anyone who would say such a thing."

"I think you do."

"What?" he asked as his heart pounded louder than ever.

"I think you know exactly who tried to convince Ginny to give up on me, and I think you know why," Harry countered accusatorily.

Josh Borton's eyebrows arched high over his wide eyes as he stared directly at Harry. Clearly shocked, he stammered in denial, "I, er, uh, don't know what you're, er, talking about."

Harry sensed he was being lied to and could feel his anger rising. He gripped the edge of the countertop and leaned over toward Josh. "You're lying, and I'm not leaving here until I get some answers."

"I don't understand," Healer Borton cried, giving his best attempt at innocence.

"I understand perfectly, but what I don't get is why you did it," Harry snapped.

He began to pace in front of the Healer's Station like a caged animal. Overhead, the lights flickered, and a rush of air swept past as Harry turned and paced in the opposite direction. He was losing his temper and performing magic without intent. The only sounds breaking the silence on the hall were the rapid breathing of Josh Borton and the stomping of Harry's feet on the floor.

Harry forced himself to take a deep breath in an attempt to calm his emotions and regain control of his magic. He compelled himself to look at Borton once more in an effort to break into the Healer's mind again to determine a motive for his deception.

In a rapid blur of colour and heat, Harry found himself reading Josh Borton's emotions. He instantly recognised the welling guilt inside the Healer's mind. Harry had been given plenty of opportunity to read and recognise the guilt in Dumbledore's mind during their practice sessions so many years before. He went on to notice the immediate lack of jealousy or the lustful feelings he has sensed with Ginny. So, Healer Borton doesn't covet Ginny; there was something else there, something big.

Harry found himself facing down another sensation he had not experienced when using Legilimency before. It felt like a hunger for power, but clearly the man in front of him held little power in his own hands. He was working Third Shift at St. Mungo's; if it were power he wanted, this wasn't the right place.

Harry's palms began to itch and he began to feel a desire, a craving- an addiction. Something angry and hungry licked his insides- something cold: Greed.

"Who's paying you off?" Harry demanded angrily.

"N-no one."

"Don't lie to me! I know you're lying!"

Harry's voice resonated in the hallway as the Healer in Training returned. "Is something wrong, Josh?"

Harry spun around to see her worried face staring back at him.

"No, it's OK, Viv. Isn't it time to, er, do your rounds?"

She nodded. "Fine. Call if you need something," she added as an afterthought, glaring at Harry.

"The only thing you're going to need is a Barrister," Harry hissed as walked away, hesitantly returning to her duties. He cast a quick glance over his shoulder and faced Healer Borton once again. "I know Aurors; people who can make you talk."

"Mr Potter, I - "

"And if I have to, I will make you talk." Harry threatened, producing his wand.

At that, Healer Josh Borton's mouth dropped open, and he uttered two words: "Dean Thomas."

Harry felt all the anger, pain, confusion, and betrayal swelling inside him to an unprecedented level. Could this be true? Was Borton telling the truth? If he was, Dean had been orchestrating this for far longer than Harry had anticipated.

"W-why?" Harry stammered, not even realizing he'd said it aloud.

"Ginny," Healer Borton replied, matter of factly.

"What about Ginny?" Harry demanded, leaning further over the desk.

Josh Borton took several steps back, putting more than a metre between himself and Harry. "Mr Thomas was paying me to make Ginny believe that you weren't ever going to recover from the comatose condition you were in. He was frustrated with their relationship and wanted Ginny to forget you."

Harry could only shake his head back and forth as the buzzing confusion in his own mind mounted. His head ached terribly, and he was already worried about how he would tell Ginny.

"I didn't ask questions; I got paid to do exactly what he told me to do: put doubt in Ginny's mind. I don't know any more," Josh replied, his voice quavering as his eyes shifted down toward the floor.

Harry's head was aching too much to use Legilimency again, even if he'd wanted to. He smoothed his hands up over his face, pushing his glasses up onto his forehead as he closed his eyes to the pain.

"Are you going to tell my Supervisor?" Healer Borton asked selfishly, with no remorse in his whiny voice.

"Shut up," Harry grumbled through his hands, which were still pressed to his face. He took a deep breath and let his hands drop to his sides. "Don't you know what you've done?" he asked with sad accusation in his voice.

"I didn't hurt you," Borton answered defiantly. "I never did anything to you, but I could have if I had wanted to."

Harry was astounded. "Didn't hurt me? You're kidding, right?" He closed his eyes for a moment and recalled all the pain, hurt, misery, misunderstanding, and lack of trust he had felt toward Ginny after he had learned the truth that night at the Burrow. He opened a mental connection between himself and the Healer.

Just for a moment, he flooded Healer Borton's mind with all the agony he had felt when he thought he'd lost Ginny forever. Josh instantly clutched his aching head and fought to stay on his feet as the pain flared inside him.

Harry broke the connection and stood in the dimly lit halls, watching the pathetic human being in front of him. "Don't tell me that you didn't hurt me. You make me sick, and I need to get away from you. Don't run from me and don't hide. I haven't decided what I'm going to do yet, but if you run, you can guarantee I'll find you."

He reached over and grabbed his file from the desk and turned on his heel, storming off toward the Apparition Point.

Harry prayed that this would be the first and last time he would dread coming home to Ginny. He felt an impending sense of distress and nausea at the thought of telling her what he had uncovered. He needed to think ahead, plan his next move, and learn the full truth. What would that be? He needed to know if Dean had truly been behind all of this. He took a deep breath and Disapparated back to Rose-Tree.

---

When Harry arrived home, the house was well lit but extremely quiet. Inconceivably, it made Harry feel even more uncomfortable. He hoped that Ginny had fallen asleep so that he could just crawl in bed next to her and not think of it for a little while. His reprieve did not come.

"Where have you been?" Ginny shouted, striding into the hall. "I was so worried!" She placed her hands on either side of Harry's face and pressed a kiss to his lips. "Did you find out anything?"

Harry grasped both of her hands and removed them from his face. He enclosed her hands in his own and brought them to his lips, kissing her fingertips.

"Are you OK, Harry? Is everything all right?"

He shook his head slowly and met her eyes with apprehension. "Let's sit down."

"No, tell me what's going on, right now!" Ginny countered, poking a finger in Harry's chest.

"It's Dean," Harry whispered hoarsely. "He's behind it all."

Ginny's knees buckled, and she clutched the wall for support as she staggered backward. "W-what?"

Harry nodded and removed his cloak. He was distracted as Dobby came skidding in and beamed up at Harry with an overextended grin, showing all of his peg-like teeth. He couldn't help but smile as he handed Dobby the cloak and reached down to pat his little, round head. He soundlessly mouthed the words "Thank you," and went to find where Ginny was.

Ginny had stumbled into the sitting room and had collapsed onto the couch. She was bent forward, resting her elbows on her knees and supporting her head in her hands. She didn't move as Harry sank into the couch next to her.

"I felt the same way," Harry admitted, looking over at her.

"Dean?" she asked, through her parted fingers. "You're sure it was him?"

Harry turned and wound an arm around Ginny's shoulders. "No, I'm not sure, that's just what the Healer told me."

"Do you think he was lying?"

Harry shook his head. "No, I don't think so." He proceeded to recall the events that had taken place at St. Mungo's that evening and shared his feelings, his thoughts, and every detail he could remember of the strange conversation.

Ginny sat silently, taking in every word, her expression changing from shock, to concern, to anger. In tears, she finally looked over at Harry and rested her head on his shoulder. "I just can't believe it, Harry; I knew Dean wanted to keep us apart, but I had no ideas that all this was going on. What are you going to do?"

"I don't know yet," Harry admitted, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of Ginny's head. "I don't want to think of that right now," he admitted, but a plan had already formed in his mind. He let out a deep, tired sigh and led Ginny upstairs to bed.

---

Harry had devised the best (and only) plan he could think of for revenge, but he would need a little support and a lot of help to accomplish his intentions. Above everything else, he didn't want to sacrifice any more of Ginny's reputation than already had been.

He didn't understand how Dean could have done this. What had he been thinking? What had been his full intentions? Did he have anything else up his sleeve?

Harry was more determined than ever to exact revenge on anyone who had dated hurt his beloved Ginny. Come what may, they would all suffer as horrible as Ginny had for five long years.

Ginny begged Harry to reconsider, to abandon his plan, but knew in her heart that all her pleading fell upon deaf ears.

Harry was keeping his thoughts to himself, in the depths of his own mind. Ginny tried engaging him in conversation as they sat quietly together while Harry checked over student essays or while they listened to the Wireless on weekend evenings. The end of October was rapidly approaching, and Ginny could see the darkening of Harry's mood.

Was it caused by the situation with Dean? ...or the anniversary of his parents' death? ...or this unknown plan to prank Snape? Out of frustration and in a hope of changing Harry's mind, Ginny Owled her brothers, asking what the plan entailed, but was met with a very rude reply; a Howler was sent back with no words, just the sound of a loud raspberry. Ginny quickly decided that asking her brothers for information was futile.

Eventually, Ginny had officially given up trying to deduce the particulars of Harry's plan and overheard bits and pieces of Floo calls to Ron and Luna.

Ginny had considered informing Hermione, but thought better of it. Hermione had the twins to worry about and had returned to editing and writing textbooks during the day.

She couldn't tell her parents; they'd only just accepted her and Harry's relationship. It wouldn't do to risk it by telling them... what, exactly? That Harry was keeping some top-secret plan from her, in order to save her reputation? Would her parents think Harry was crazy or Ginny herself?

Instead, Ginny bit her tongue and tried to convey that she would care for Harry, no matter what, and be a good listener, should he decide to talk about it.

After fine-tuning the particulars of his plan, Harry sent Dean a letter, asking him to come to the Three Broomsticks on the evening of October the twenty-eighth at 8 o'clock. The letter was signed Josh Borton, and was sent from the Owl Post Office in Hogsmeade. Harry didn't have a doubt that the thought of the letter would panic Dean and force him to come.

---

As dusk approached on the evening of the twenty-eighth, Harry prepared for the short walk into Hogsmeade. He had told Ginny, in no uncertain terms, should she show up at the pub.

"But, Harry, what if -"

"No 'what ifs'," Harry admonished, cleaning his glasses on the hem of his robes. "Not only is it for everyone's safety, but ultimately for the success of the plan. Please, love, I'm begging you, stay here safe and warm and waiting with open arms for my return."

Ginny sighed loudly and snaked her hands through her deliciously red hair - an act Harry longed to do after ending this awful month of deceit, schemes, and discovery. Ginny paced the marble floor of the entrance hall, as Harry stood idly by, just looking at her.

"Harry, I don't like this. Please reconsider?" she pleaded, rushing toward him and grasping his hands, interlacing their fingers.

"No," he said strongly, his eyes burrowing into her gaze. "You deserve to have your name cleared and I'm about to go do it. I know what it's like to have the press hounding me every day of my life. I don't want that for you; we'd never be left alone. The Daily Prophet will be forced to retract their statements, and we'll find out the truth behind what Dean's been up to."

"I don't care!" Ginny hissed, letting go of Harry's hands and cradling his face instead. "You believe me and that's enough. I'm happy, the happiest I've ever been; let's not worry about the Prophet.

Harry silenced her protest with a soft, warm kiss pressed to her lips. He deepened it very slowly, letting his tongue caress its way inside her mouth, tasting her sweet breath.

Ginny thought for a faint moment that she had actually won: that Harry would take off his cloak and stay there; that he would go upstairs right that instant and make love to her as two people who found each other again should be doing, not plotting revenge. Her intense hopes were quickly dashed.

"I have to go," Harry whispered against her lips as the antique hall-clock chimed Westminster Bells on the half hour. He was intentionally thirty minutes late.

"Harry, no, love, stay here with me," Ginny pleaded worriedly, smoothing her hands over the contour of his clean-shaven face.

Harry held out his hand expectantly and waited for something. Defeated, Ginny reached inside her pocket and produced the engagement ring given to her by Dean. She pressed the band of gold into Harry's open hand.

Harry had to admit he had a strange curiosity about the ring. He held it between his fingers and looked at it. He was pleased but not surprised to see that the ring was smaller and less brilliant than the one he'd bought Ginny, even though Dean's was a magical gem.

The thought that Dean seemingly diminished Ginny's worth angered him almost as much as the ring's presence at Rose-Tree. Harry was pleased that Ginny didn't apologize when she handed him the ring. He was convinced that she'd done nothing wrong; she'd been manipulated somehow, he reckoned. She seemed nervous and embarrassed, but she didn't excuse her behaviour. He pocketed it quickly, knowing he would only see it one more time.

Harry captured her lips once more and broke the kiss with reluctant words: "I have to go."

Harry stepped out onto the porch at Rose-Tree and took a deep breath. His stomach was churning with apprehension, his heart was thundering in his chest, and his hands trembled uncontrollably. He knew Ginny was probably standing in the window, peeking out between the curtains, monitoring him, and watching him go. He patted the front of his cloak, ensuring his wand was safely tucked in place, and pulled the cloak tighter around his body as the wind picked up and ruffled his hair. Afraid to turn around and wave goodbye, Harry stepped off the porch and slowly began his walk to the Three Broomsticks.

Harry was in no hurry to arrive at the pub; if fate was on his side, his tardiness would have given Dean the opportunity to have a few drinks while waiting for 'Healer Borton' to arrive. He had no doubt that Dean would be there - waiting.

The streets were empty and quiet, and the tall, wrought iron lampposts illuminated the village streets ominously. Harry winced at the absinthe green sign from the window at Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes and the thought of Snape insulting Ginny refuelled the anger that had been pent up inside him. He was glad Fred and George had agreed to help him make Snape suffer. He was about to gain vengeance for Ginny and for his parents that he had longed for.

The mottled glimmer emanating from the grimy windows of the Three Broomsticks came into view as the dying leaves rustled on the trees overhead and the wind blew the fallen foliage into a whirlwind, sweeping past him down the street.

Cautiously, Harry peered around the framework of the window and in through the glass to observe the patrons of the pub. Sundays were not known to be busy nights at the tavern, and Harry was glad this Sunday was no exception.

There were a few individuals scattered throughout the dimly lit bar, mainly occupying the barstools at the counter or the tables near the door. Two patrons sat together in one of the booths at the very rear of the room, and one man sat alone with his back to the door, hunched over an elevated, round table. It was Dean Thomas.

Harry took a deep breath and stepped out from the recesses of the building and pushed open the door of the Three Broomsticks. No one looked up when Harry entered the pub and slowly approached the counter.

"I'll take a pumpkin juice, please," he stated, taking a few silver sickles from his pocket. He took his drink from Madame Rosmerta, meandered through the empty tables dotting the room, and approached Dean's table, carefully avoided something stringy on the floor, and took the empty seat.

"Oh, if it isn't Saint Potter," Dean slurred. "The boy who lived - and then died - and lived again," he laughed lazily and sloshed some of his drink down the front of his robes. "Are you sure you aren't an unregistered phoenix Animagus, Potter?"

Harry said nothing, but took a sip of his drink, noticing the half empty bottle of Firewhiskey in front of Dean.

"Run along, Potter; we've got nothing to say to one another, and I'm meeting someone."

Harry raised an eyebrow interestedly and locked eyes with the man in front of him. "Josh Borton, perhaps?" he asked, taking another drink of juice.

"How do you - wait, did you sign that letter?" Dean was squinting and a grimace was pasted on his face as he struggled to string together his thoughts. He was suddenly silent and that silence spoke volumes.

"So, how is it that you and Josh Borton became friends?" Harry inquired. "I'm sure it's a fascinating story."

Dean realized he'd said too much already and pounded the remains of his drink and slammed the glass down on the table. "It's none of your business," he growled.

"It is my business if you've hurt Ginny in any way and -"

"So, Ginny came crawling back, eh? I knew the two of you couldn't stay apart. She giving you all the benefits of a relationship, Potter? She's quite capable in that department."

Harry was furious. He slammed his own glass down on the bar and rose from his barstool, hovering over Dean. "Watch your mouth, Thomas!"

Patrons of the Three Broomsticks weren't even trying to look disinterested in the ensuing argument. They stared openly, while Madame Rosmerta watched in fear.

Harry gazed around, noting to keep his volume down and his temper in check. "Ginny told me all about your relationship, if that's what you'd call it," Harry declared, recalling Ginny's deal with Dean in order to keep true to her promise to be Harry's 'one and only'. "She was faithful to me."

"C'mon, Potter; don't be thick. Hasn't she lied to you enough so that you can tell when she's spinning another yarn? Once a cheater, always a cheater."

Harry shook his head and dug into the pocket of his jeans, retrieving the gold engagement ring. "This is over," he spat, tossing the ring on the table.

The ring clunked onto the table and spun on its edge in tiny circles, before falling over and coming to rest next to Dean's empty glass. Dean picked up the ring and gazed at the diamond in the centre.

"Good. I only got your sloppy seconds, anyway. I didn't wait around for Ginny. It was her idea to remain faithful to you, not mine. I had other girls to keep company with. Ginny came up with that stupid arrangement. Since she wasn't going to put out, I found others who did," he laughed hollowly, looking down at the ring in his fingers. "The ring wasn't even meant for Ginny," he admitted.

"What are you on about?"

"Merlin's spleen, you're thick. I was going to marry someone else, but I changed my mind."

Harry was right; Dean had been cheap and had recycled the ring. "So, why did you go after Ginny then? Why couldn't you leave her alone?"

"Because I wanted her!" Dean hollered loudly, rounding on Harry. "You took what was mine! She was mine, first, back at Hogwarts! You stole her from me!"

"I didn't take anything that I wasn't given. She's not an inanimate object to take as you please," Harry answered, glaring back at him and hoping he'd sit down. "You're mad," he muttered under his breath as he began fingering the red yarn around his wrist, hoping to calm himself down.

"Do you know what it's like - living in your shadows, Potter? Living up to the reputation and image of the Great Harry Potter? I couldn't stand it anymore! I couldn't stand the hero worship, the saga of your life, or the preferential treatment. And you, moping around as you always did, garnishing sympathy from everyone. At school, all Ginny ever talked about was you; at St. Mungo's, when we became reacquainted, all she ever talked about was you! I couldn't stand it anymore, and I wanted it to stop. I was sick of her whinging and crying and her need of constant reassurance that you'd live. Even half-dead, you were still the centre of attention."

Harry was perplexed; though Dean was talking freely due the drinks, he still wasn't making the connection. "So you wanted to hurt Ginny?"

"No!" Dean howled. "I wanted to hurt you. I wanted everything you had: friends, respect, fame, wealth, and Ginny!"

Harry had to stop and think a moment; his knee-jerk reaction was to deny it all, but it was true, he had all those things.

"Ginny was just a dupe, a pawn to get what I wanted. I would win and you'd die of a broken heart."

Harry's temper was flaring again. "Why involve Ginny? Why involve Borton?"

"When I met up with Ginny again, I didn't care if you lived, died, or splinched yourself between London and India. I just wanted the upper hand. Borton was in a position to suggest to Ginny and to you, subconsciously, that you'd never get well and that your case was hopeless. If he could be persuaded to do that, I hoped she would just give up on you and you would sense this. I had almost isolated Ginny from the Weasleys, and I thought I could keep Ginny away from you long enough for you to lose your will to survive."

Harry was completely astounded and sunk back down onto the barstool, resting his elbow against the table, propping himself up. "So, you paid Borton to do it?"

Dean sighed affirmatively, uncorked the bottle, and poured another Firewhiskey.

"Were you stalking Ginny? Following her around? What were you doing at St. Mungo's that day, anyway?"

"That's none of your business, Potter," Dean snapped, turning away from Harry's confused gaze.

Harry realised he'd hit on something, what, he didn't know. "That's where you're wrong. If it concerns Ginny's or my health, it is my business." Harry glanced over his shoulder and looked around the pub. "You know," he whispered, leaning in closer to Dean, "if you don't tell me the truth, I have ways of finding out for myself without anyone knowing."

Dean's half-lidded eyes widened fearfully, thinking back on all the rumours about Harry's abilities at what Muggles called mind reading.

"Besides, I've got friends in high places, and your friend Borton was only too eager to give up information in an effort to save his own skin."

"I was there visiting a friend," Dean mumbled, shakily reaching out for his glass.

"In the Birthing Ward?" Harry asked suspiciously, wondering whom Dean knew who'd had a baby. In their circle of friends only Ron and Hermione had children.

Dean froze.

"Who were you there to see?"

"A friend!" Dean replied, through gritted teeth.

Harry reached into his robes, threatening to retrieve his wand. "Friends have names."

Dean shook his head and looked down at the tabletop. "Her name is Mallory Huntington," he replied begrudgingly.

Harry was not about to stop now; he was finally getting somewhere. "Who was she?" he inquired.

"She's of no interest to you," Dean replied, still not looking up at Harry's face.

"Well, if I know her name, all I'd have to do is give it to Tonks or Shacklebolt or Ron."

Dean knew Ron was always protective of Ginny and like Potter, would do just about anything to shelter her.

"She's my ex-girlfriend!" Dean roared, angry at being manipulated.

The words swirled inside Harry's head. Ex-girlfriend... St. Mungo's... Birthing Ward... He gasped audibly as Dean continued scowling. "It was your baby, wasn't it?"

Dean nodded once while he chewed on the inside of his lip.

"You have a child?"

"Guess so. I haven't seen him since the day he was born."

Harry was breathing heavily; it felt as though his stomach was located at the back of his throat. He had been angry before, but he was positively furious now.

"You abandoned your own son?" he asked incredulously. "You abandoned your family?"

"They're not my family," Dean answered, raising his glass in a shaking hand to his mouth.

"How could you say that? He's your son! Your flesh and blood," Harry charged hysterically. "A family is the only thing I've ever wanted! I'd happily give up all my money and my place in Wizarding History for a family of my own," he paused, thinking. "The ring was for her, wasn't it? You were going to marry Mallory, but changed your plan when she got pregnant. Did you just leave her, or did you bribe her, too?"

"Nope," Dean answered unconcernedly. "She doesn't even remember me."

"Doesn't remember you?" Harry wondered aloud, pushing his glasses up further onto the bridge of his nose. "What do you -"

Dean's mouth twisted into a sly grin, before he threw back his head and laughed.

"Did you Obliviate her?" Harry hissed, leaning toward Dean.

"Had to."

"Why?" Harry demanded, rising and towering over Dean once again.

Dean only shrugged. "Didn't want them."

"They're your family, damn it, not something dispose of in the rubbish bin. A family is all I ever wanted, and you just made yours forget you."

With those words, a horrendous thought struck Harry. "Did you ever modify Ginny's memory?" he asked fearfully.

Dean simpered. "No, Potter. I didn't have to; she's so naive, she'll believe anything. She innocently went along with my plan, like a lamb being led to the slaughter."

Harry was seeing red; he was angrier than he'd ever been. Moreover, he was bound to trounce upon Dean and wipe the smug smile off his face. "Ha, you think you're so smart, but Ginny had you fooled. She wasn't picking up extra shifts at St. Mungo's; she was with me."

Dean only shrugged. "True, I thought I had her under control, playing Mr. Nice Guy, supporting her, visiting you, but no matter. That day she came home from St. Mungo's, that was the best acting I'd ever performed. I pretended to be thrilled and eager to see you; I'm sure it scared the hell out of her. I only wanted to see you to continue to keep tabs on you and see you for myself. I wondered if you were weak or strong, how you reacted to Ginny, if you'd regained your memory, or if you had any inclination that I was up to something. I knew it was all over the night of the Christening; that's why I decided to get tanked. It wasn't going my way anymore, so I decided to sit back and watch the inevitable catastrophe ensue. You just woke up a bit too early. I almost had her fully isolated from her family; then, we would have married anyhow. I figured even if you awoke one day, Ginny would have been legally mine, and I knew she would never go to you if we were married and had children."

"Wrong again. Ginny told me herself that she never would have married you," Harry retorted triumphantly.

"Then I just would've Obliviated her after I ostracised her from her family. It doesn't matter now; I've ruined her reputation in the Daily Prophet, and she isn't good enough for anyone but Pious Potter. You won, Harry; you got everything I ever wanted. You were even famous lying half dead in St. Mungo's."

"Whose fault was it that I was robbed of time? I never asked to be the saviour of the Wizarding World. It sure as hell wasn't my choice to kill Voldemort, to be famous after the slaying of my parents, to live with cruel Muggles, and to bear the pressure of the lives of hundreds and thousands on my shoulders. No, I did not choose that. Voldemort did. I gladly would have stepped down from my pedestal. Don't worry; I'll see that you're punished."

Dean clucked his tongue and looked around the bar as he chided. "Poor Potter. Pious, pious Potter. I hope this makes you feel better, hearing all this. I only see one problem."

"What's that?"

"No one will ever believe you. You've got a room full of drunks as witnesses."

"Nah, actually I've got two perfectly sober witnesses," Harry answered.

Ron and Luna arose from their seats in the booth at the back of the pub. Ron was wearing his Auror's uniform and was winding the string on a Ministry Issue Extendable Ear that had been patented by Fred and George especially for Magical Law Enforcement. Ron's badge shone brightly upon his chest. Luna wore a tweed cloak with a 'Press' badge pinned to a tweed fedora hat on her head. In her hand were a quill and a scroll.

As Ron approached, he looked nearly as angry as Harry felt. He tucked the Extendable Ear into one of the many pockets inside his robes. "Dean Thomas, you're under arrest for the illegal and unauthorized use of a Memory Charm against one Mallory Huntington and for the defamation of character, against my sister, Ginny Weasley."

Dean was flabbergasted and drunk. It seemed to take forever for the words to sink in. "What?"

"You-are-under-arrest," Ron stated clearly. "Your wand, please?" He pulled a long canister from within his robes and trained his wand on Dean.

"You son of a -" Dean began in disbelief, looking over at Harry.

"I wouldn't finish that statement, if I were you," Ron threatened, thrusting his wand at Dean. "I don't think Harry will take kindly to that insult against his mother. Wand, please," Ron insisted, more forcefully than before. "You will be held over for trial as soon as the entire Wizengamot can be assembled."

Dean rattled off a slew of profanity as he produced his wand, and Ron inserted it into the metal container. He sealed it and replaced it back inside his robes.

As Ron satisfactorily secured Dean's hands with a Binding Charm, Harry nervously turned to Luna. "Please tell me you got the entire confession."

"Sure did, Harry," she answered in an ethereal voice as she unrolled the parchment. "I'll run the story on the front page of The Quibbler. Of course, that means I'll have to push the most recent sighting of the allegedly dead rock star Elvin Priestly to page two. That will upset a few of his fans."

"Elvin Priestly? Didn't he die in the 1970's?" Harry asked incredulously.

"Some people think so," Luna replied with cheek.

Harry was exhausted. He thanked Ron and Luna for their assistance and stepped out of the Three Broomsticks into the fresh air. Again, he had chosen not to Apparate home. He needed to clear his head before he broke the news to Ginny.

---

Ginny had reacted far differently than Harry anticipated. She was absolutely terrified. As soon as Harry mentioned the Memory Modification, Ginny burst into tears. She drew her knees up and hugged them tight to her chest.

"Harry!" she sobbed, rocking back and forth. "I thought he was good and nice. I thought he cared. I-I just wanted to believe it so badly that I didn't see the truth. I needed someone so badly, I didn't even care if he was a common criminal! What kind of person am I? I am naive and stupid."

Harry's heart sank. He'd expected her to be angry, hurt, or shocked, not scared and hurt. "Love, it's all right. The worst is over," Harry placated, crossing the floor of the drawing room to sit next to her.

"Harry," she gasped, her eyes going wide in fear. "What if he modified me?"

"Gin, he didn't," Harry dismissed her. "He just took horrible advantage of our love and our commitment to each other. He wanted us to be as miserable as he is."

"I just can't believe it," she whispered in reply, falling against his shoulder. "All the lies and manipulation. How could I have been so stupid? Why couldn't I see it?"

"Ginny, it's not your fault. He orchestrated everything, and if you would have fought back, then yes, he would have Obliviated you."

Ginny thought back to the times where they'd had arguments, when she'd refused his advances, or when he'd been absent for days - working. If he modified her memory, she never would have known it, would she?

The Monday morning edition of The Quibbler was their biggest selling issue ever. They had successfully duped the Daily Prophet and implicated them regarding their slanderous articles against Ginny. What no one realized or anticipated were the revelations of the erroneous harm done to the reputations of dozens of others by the paper.

Luna had sent a photographer over to the Burrow to capture Ginny's picture, and she reported on the Weasleys' reaction to the retraction printed by the Daily Prophet concerning her tainted reputation. Luna seemed quite relieved that Ginny had been cleared and pleased with the popularity of her own newspaper.

---

The Great Hall at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was all abuzz as swooping owls delivered the morning edition. It was the biggest story of the year, and the Daily Prophet ran a front-page article about the widow of Elvin Priestly. Harry smiled contentedly amid the whispers. He'd done it.

Not only did Harry feel a sense of relief, but he felt as if he had a right to boast. He'd done the impossible! The week after Dean's arrest and Ginny's name being cleared, Harry strutted around Hogwarts, head and shoulders about the rest. He arrogantly recalled his planning skills and the events that had followed to anyone who wanted to hear it.

He felt strong and powerful, arrogant and proud, and smart and calculating in the wake of the initial stage of his revenge. While at breakfast, he received a congratulatory Owl from Fred and George, confirming that they were ready to complete Phase Two of the Vengeance and that Harry could drop off his invisibility cloak Friday morning at the Hogsmeade shop. Across the Hall, he caught Snape's glare and his mind began to shift tactics.

Harry was ready to see the ultimate humiliation of Severus Snape in front of the entire school, punished for the cruel, demeaning, angry, self-centred, and hate-filled manner of his ways.

Since Harry's triumph over the Prophet and Dean, Snape seemed to hold even more contempt for him, shooting Harry dirty looks during meals, scowling at him in the corridors, and watching Gryffindor Quidditch practices with jealousy, anger, and contempt.

Thursday night, Harry sat alone in his study when he heard the familiar sound of Ginny Apparating in the hall at Rose Tree.

"In here!" he called, leaning forward, looking out from where he sat at his desk.

Ginny yawned, reaching up to lazily cover her mouth before wrapping her arms loosely around her body. She was wearing her aqua green scrubs. Her eyes were drooping and red-rimmed, and her hair was stringy and dishevelled.

"Love, what's wrong?" Harry asked, rising to meet her, realizing he hadn't seen or spoken directly to her since the Sunday night before.

"Harry," she whispered, slowly rubbing her arms.

"What is it; what's wrong?"

"I'm afraid," she admitted, "I haven't slept in days."

"Ginny, why?" Harry asked, pulling her into the safety of his arms. He felt a swell of guilt rise inside him. She had not taken news of Dean's shady dealings well; he should have been more sensitive to that and checked on her.

"I haven't been able to think of anything since Sunday except Dean modifying my memory," she confessed.

Harry felt the hot tears singe his skin as Ginny buried her face into his chest. "Oh, Ginny, honey, I really don't think he did it. He was drinking and offering quite a lot of information."

"Harry!" Ginny cried, grabbing his collar. "He's a liar, and I fell for everything. I wouldn't remember it if he did modify me!"

Harry could feel her chest heaving raggedly against his own. "Do you think they'll give him a dose of Veritaserum?" she asked as an afterthought.

"Probably not; Luna has a written transcript of the confession, and Ron recorded it on the Ministry's Extendable Ear. Truthfully, I don't know," he answered, smoothing her hair in what he hoped was a comforting manner.

Ginny pulled away and looked up into Harry's eyes. "Then I want you to use Legilimency and look into my mind."

"Gin -" Harry protested, but when he looked into her eyes, wide with fear, he knew he couldn't refuse.

"Harry, please? I need to know," she pleaded, reaching out to him, once again.

"All right," Harry relented. "Just clear your mind, OK?" He guided her across the room and positioned her to face him He retreated several steps back and took a deep breath as he focused his thoughts. "Legilimens."

Harry's mind sprang into action, searching the depths and corners of Ginny's mind, looking for repressed or forgotten memories as evidence of her having been Obliviated. He pierced her psyche and investigated her deeply.

He found nothing, but it did not quench the anger still present inside him. He was searching the mind of his girlfriend to ensure she had not been modified somehow. It was a horrible situation to be in. How long would Ginny suffer from residual effects of Dean?

Harry departed from her mind and watched Ginny stagger back toward the chair behind her. "See anything?" she whispered, sweeping her hair from her face. "Tell me the truth; I need to know."

Harry shook his head. "No, love, it's OK." With the flick of his wand, he extinguished all the lights in the study and hesitantly crossed the darkened room. "C'mon," he whispered, reaching blindly for her hand. Her helped her to her feet and led her out into the hall.

In the light of the hall, Harry looked over his shoulder and jerked his head back. "C'mon," he urged, reaching behind him.

Ginny yawned and put her hands on Harry's shoulders, pushing herself up onto his back. Harry hooked his hands behind her knees, supporting her legs, as Ginny looped her arms around Harry's neck, and began ascending the stairs. She rested her chin on Harry's shoulder and felt herself relax against his body. "Thank you."

"Don't worry," Harry replied as he rounded the stairs and entered his bedroom. He set Ginny on the bed and began to remove her shoes and socks. "Tomorrow, I want you to spend all day snuggled up here in this bed. No excuses. I want to be at work tomorrow, thinking of you laying in this bed, drinking mulled cider and reading, or listening to the Wireless. Just sleep and rest." He smiled and tossed her shoes and socks into a pile on the floor and tickled the bottom of her foot, feeling her toes curl as she laughed.

"All right," she answered, flopping back on the bed.

Harry retrieved a nightdress of Ginny's that she had finally agreed to leave there and found a pair of his own pyjamas. "The Gryffindor vs. Slytherin Quidditch match is this Saturday. Fred and George are coming," he said innocently. "Why don't you come, too. I'd like that."

"OK," Ginny yawned, pulling her shirt over her head and shimmying out of her scrub pants. She took the nightgown from Harry's outstretched hand and pulled it over her head.

Harry changed into his own nightclothes and pulled back the covers of the grand Edwardian bed. Ginny scrambled up from the foot of the bed and climbed under the covers, turning her back to Harry. He put out the lights and crawled in bed next to her. "I'm still scared," she whispered.

"It's all right; I'm here, and I won't let anything happen to you ever again." He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, spooning behind her. "Sleep."

---

The following morning Harry left Ginny sitting up in bed propped up by pillows, eating some porridge, and drinking some tea. As he prepared to leave, he turned on the Wireless so Ginny could hear the morning news.

"I've got to go, love," Harry replied, reluctantly leaning over the bed to press a brief kiss to her forehead. "Rest up, OK?"

Ginny smiled and pulled the covers up to her chin. "I will, thank you."

Harry stepped into the walk-in closet, pulled open one of the drawers in the largest bureau, and retrieved the Invisibility Cloak he had inherited from his father.

"What do you need that for?" Ginny wondered aloud, watching him tuck the garment under his arm.

"Your brothers want to borrow it," he began, eager to change the subject. "I'll Owl you at lunch. I love you."

Without so much as a backward glance, Harry hurried down the stairs and grabbed his satchel hanging on the newel post. He stuffed the cloak into the bag and slung it over one shoulder. He Apparated from Rose-Tree to the alley behind Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes, where Fred and George were already waiting for him.

"Cheerio, Harry," Fred greeted as Harry appeared in the alley.

"Top o' the morning, Potter," George chimed in.

"Morning, blokes," Harry replied, shaking hands with the twins.

"Ready for a spot of mischief, Harry?" they asked in unison, each leaning against the buildings on opposite sides of the alley.

"I reckon so," Harry admitted, rummaging for the cloak in his bag.

"Excellent," George answered, tenting his fingers together in an ominous fashion.

Harry handed his cloak to Fred. "Be careful tomorrow, OK? I don't want to get caught."

"No problem, Harry. You're dealing with experts, remember? We'll meet you up in the stands to watch the match."

Harry nodded. "Sure. Good luck, guys. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Toodle-oo," the twins replied with wiggling fingers.

Harry shook his head and Apparated to Hogwarts' gates and hurried up to the Castle.

Most of the students were now suffering from full-blown Quidditch hysteria. Students from all houses were showing their support for one team or the other, and there was a general excitement due to the beginning of the season. Slytherin, having won the cup last year, were exhibiting insufferable bragging rights.

True to his word, Harry Owled Ginny at lunchtime, expressing his hopes that she felt better and telling her not to hesitate in asking Dobby for anything she might want or need.

When Harry received an Owl late in the afternoon, he hoped it would be return post from Ginny, but instead found a summons from the Headmistress.

At precisely 5:00, per the letter's request, Harry gave the password (Catnip) to the stone gargoyle and ascended the spiralled staircase to McGonagall's office. He attempted to knock on the door, but McGonagall's voice rang out before his knuckles even made contact with the door.

"Come in!"

Harry swallowed and pushed open the door. "G-Good afternoon, Headmistress. You wanted to see me?"

"Hello, Harry; have a seat," McGonagall responded curtly as she rose from the chair behind her desk and gestured to the leather wing-backed chairs ahead of her.

Harry nervously took one of the offered seats, wondering why on earth the Headmistress might want to see him. Could she possibly know about my plans for tomorrow?

"Harry," she began hesitantly, not resuming her seat, opting instead to pace the floor of her study. "I just wanted to let you know how proud of you I am for all you've done this fall. You've reconciled with Miss Weasley, you've cleared her name in the Daily Prophet, and cleared the waters pertaining to your separation in the first place. Incidentally, I'm most disappointed with Mr. Thomas; I wouldn't have thought a Gryffindor could behave so badly with so little remorse. He'll go before the Wizengamot next Monday; I think the court will be lenient in sentencing, but I could be wrong. Regardless, you selflessly got to the bottom of the situation, not for yourself, but because of your love for Ginny ñ for the sake of her reputation."

Harry swallowed again, with more difficulty this time. In all his bragging and self-conceit during the past week, he had almost forgot he'd done it all in the name of love, not glory.

"Furthermore," McGonagall continued, "after the way Severus has treated you, your parents, Lupin, and Sirius over the years (granted none of you were innocent, either), you, Harry, have managed to bury the hatchet; you've let bygones be bygones and stopped the childish retribution. I dare say your parents and Sirius would be proud of you on all accounts; I already know Remus is proud that you've grown up to be the honourable, successful, brave, caring, and good man that we've always known you would be." She paused only for a moment to gaze across the study at the portrait of Dumbledore, snoozing and snoring in the frame of his picture. For a brief instant, Harry swore he saw the old man peek out of one eye and then shut it immediately. "And on behalf of the school," McGonagall continued, "Professor Dumbledore, who always spoke so highly of you and cared deeply for you, and myself, we're all proud of you, too."

Harry sat, looking down at the floor. He was truly ashamed and embarrassed for his recent antagonistic behaviour. What would his parents, Sirius, Dumbledore, and Ginny say if they knew what his vindictive mind had concocted? They certainly would not be proud of him then.

"Erm, thank you, Headmistress," Harry answered shamefully, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh, Harry, don't be so modest," McGonagall chided. "I expect I'll see you at the match tomorrow? Professor Snape has insisted on releasing the Quaffle himself. Braggart. Oh, I do hope your pointers have helped Gryffindor. Of course, I'm not really supposed to take sides, but I do like to see my house win," she said with a sly smile.

"Yes, I'll be at the match," Harry answered, thinking of Snape standing in the centre of the field, awaiting his impending fate.

"Wonderful. I had best get down to dinner. I meant what I said, Harry. You've done so well."

---

Riddled with guilt, Harry stopped at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes after leaving Hogwarts at the end of the day, set on telling Fred and George that the prank was off, but the shop was closed for the evening. "Damn," Harry cursed before Apparating home.

After greeting Ginny, Harry made to send Hedwig to Fred and George, but Ginny announced she'd sent Hedwig off to her mother, letting her know she was feeling much better.

Harry cursed inwardly, not angry with Ginny, but angry with himself for devising his asinine plan to begin with. The guilt was beginning to eat at him, causing him to already regret the next day. It wasn't right to humiliate Snape; he needed to stand up and be the better man. Snape was a miserable man, and all the embarrassment in the world would not change him. As the pain from his throbbing headache and the churning stomach gnawed at him, Harry decided he needed to find Fred and George.

After Flooing Mrs Weasley, Harry discovered that the twins, Angelina, and Katie were eating dinner with some of Katie's friends in Northern Italy. Mrs Weasley didn't know the name of Katie's friends, or the city they were in, but she stated they were gone for the evening.

Harry was furious with himself and tried desperately not to let it show. He didn't want to alarm Ginny, now that she was feeling better. He would just find Fred and George in the morning, before the match.

Ginny's intuition told her that something was wrong, even though Harry denied it time and time again. It was she who comforted him as he slept fitfully, tossing and turning miserably all night long. She lay quietly next to him with her arm wrapped protectively around him and fingered at the red yarn bracelet tied around his wrist. She couldn't help but smile, recalling that a silly string had brought them back together.

Ginny thought Harry finally seemed to be sleeping contentedly near morning and she let him oversleep just a bit. Sleeping in had forced Harry to hurry as he prepared to leave; he pulled his red and gold Weasley jumper over his head, stepped into his jeans, and quickly tied his trainers. He grabbed his Omnioculars and Apparated to Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes before the Quidditch match. There he found two young women minding the shop who told him that Fred and George had already left for Hogwarts.

Cursing the entire way, Harry made his way up to the Castle doors hoping to head Fred and George off at the kitchens, before they dropped the potion into Snape's breakfast.

As he burst through the doors of the Castle, McGonagall, Neville Longbottom, and Severus Snape seemed to be anticipating him.

"Harry, we've been waiting for you."

"Yes, Headmistress?" Harry answered, his heart leaping up to his throat. Did they know?

"Are you ever on time, Potter?" Snape hissed, folding his arms across his chest impatiently.

"What?"

"Severus, honestly. Potter didn't even know about this," McGonagall chimed in.

Harry stammered, "W-what's going on?"

"Um, Harry, McGonagall though it might be nice if I joined P-professor Snape on the Pitch this morning, and I wanted you to come with me," Neville admitted, eyeing Professor Snape warily, inching ever closer to the Headmistress.

"Yes, as if Potter doesn't have enough delusions of grandeur on the Quidditch Pitch," Snape mumbled under his breath.

Harry was trying very hard to ignore Snape as he turned to Neville. "Oh, Neville, I'd like to, but you know Ginny's coming up today." Harry did not want to be standing next to Snape when and if this prank blew up in his face.

Neville looked utterly disappointed and positively fearful of standing alone with Snape. His eyes were pleading.

Harry sighed. "Oh, all right," he relented, hoping by some grace that Fred and George didn't not make it into the kitchens or that Snape didn't eat breakfast today.

As McGonagall led the way down to the stadium, Harry could see the teams flying around and taking a final few laps, trying a few last manoeuvres to show off for the opposition. He walked beside Snape, trying to determine if he looked a bit peaked or even more ugly than normal. To his relief, Snape didn't look any different than normal. No, in fact he looked especially smug.

The small group walked the steep, gravelly path down to the Pitch, and Harry was sure no one had the same thoughts swimming around in their head as he did. His eyes darted around for any sign of Fred, George, or even Ginny, in hopes of trying to stop what could happen, but he didn't see any of them.

He waited nervously in front of the faculty stands with McGonagall, Neville, and Snape. The stands were nearly full of eager students carrying flags and cheering loudly. Harry realized he was wearing his Omnioculars around his neck and quickly put them to his eyes as he scanned the crowd. Just as the whistle blew, signalling the end of the warm up period, Harry spotted Ginny in the uppermost level of the stands. She was smiling and waving down at him. There were several open seats next to her and Harry found himself hoping that the empty seats were a sign that Fred and George hadn't arrived on time... but then... his heart sank.

Fred and George were scrambling up the stairs between the bleacher seats.

"Harry, it's time," McGonagall declared, startling Harry and causing him to drop his Omnioculars. She grabbed the sleeve of his jumper and jerked him forward, away from the relative safety and shade of the stands toward the centre of the Pitch.

It was a sunny but blustery day, and ahead of him, he watched Snape's cloak billowing in the breeze like low clouds on the horizon. Harry's heart was beating rapidly and pounding loudly in his ears. The wind gusts were strong enough to take his breath away.

The two teams strode out to meet them in the middle of the field, led by Ryer Lamplighter, the Quidditch referee. The trunk of supplies was already lying on the thick grass. The two captains reached out to each other hesitantly and shook hands. Ms. Lamplighter greeted the faculty and kicked open the trunk. "Mount your brooms."

Everywhere around Harry, brooms lifted into the air, waiting for match to begin. The Bludgers and the Golden Snitch were released as Ms. Lamplighter gave Snape the Quaffle.

For a moment, Harry thought possibly that everything would be OK, but then it happened.

Snape gave a slight twitch and his shoulder spasmed, causing those around him to stare. Snape's billowing robes morphed and transformed into something new. Fred and George's potion had worked. The creation they devised had been intended as a Halloween costume: a potion that could be drunk and with an hour of ingestion the drinker's clothing would be transformed into the respective desired costume that was bought. Hippogriffs, dragons, unicorns, fairies, werewolves, and just about anything else you could imagine. The effects of the potion were temporary, lasting only a few hours, long enough for children to Trick-or-Treat.

In the swirl of colour and fabric, Snape's costume was revealed. It was not a fancy Hippogriff costume; it was something much more risquÈ.

Severus Snape was standing in the middle of the Quidditch Pitch dressed like a common tart. He was clad in a black mini-skirt, a bustier, and stiletto heels. His pale, skinny legs were clad in black fishnet stockings. Cherry red lipstick and audacious makeup completed the look.

As Snape dropped his head to gaze down at his new attire, his gaunt, vampire-like face reddened, and a disgusted sneer appeared there. Horrified, he wheeled around and pointed his wand at Harry.

"Potter!" he screamed as hundreds of students began howling and shrieking with laughter. "Explain yourself!"

Snape's voice startled the stunned look off McGonagall's face as she tried to compose herself. "Severus, get ahold of yourself. Harry's done nothing. You yourself have been with him since he arrived at Hogwarts this morning. How could he have done anything?"

Snape was still livid. The constant laughter, the wide-eyed stares and the sheer embarrassment of the situation were more than he could bear. "I don't know how he did it, but he did it!"

"Hold your tongue, Professor," McGonagall advised as she cast several spells, none of which ended Snape's humiliation.

Harry just gaped, red faced and filled with guilt and remorse, as Snape wobbled off the field in utter mortification. Harry looked up into the stands to see Fred and George doubled over in laughter and Ginny shielding her eyes.

Ginny had been right all along. Revenge hadn't gained him anything. Ginny was still his girlfriend, she was still the same person inside, and she didn't love him any more or less for doing it. Ginny hadn't needed clearance from the Daily Prophet, Harry had. He needed to know he could succeed at his plans and win. Dean behaved criminally and was going to be punished accordingly, but it didn't change anything between Harry and Ginny. They were still in love, and Dean had been absent from their lives since their reunion, anyway. And Snape: Harry's retribution against him was purely spiteful, immature, and atrocious.

Ginny had told him that life was short and precious and he hadn't listened at the time, but he now knew she was right. He didn't want to waste any more time hurting anyone else, revenge was pointless and made him feel like a less worthy person for having done it.

---

Author's Note: OK guys, here's the scoop. I have finishedmy part of writing this story, my lack of updates have been Beta issues, and I appreciate all of your continued interest in the story. As I have mentioned before, the place to get updates regarding "Time Enough" would be my journal (see my Bio for a link,) or feel free to email me any time. I hope Chapters 20/21 will be edited soon. They'll post together as a double post, and will be the last two chapters of this story. Thanks for reading!