A/N: Alas. Not quite as long to update as last time, but I know, still inexcusably long.
I'm still not sure about the first half of this chapter, but I hope the second half will make up for it all in the end.
Lastly, it would be remiss of me not to provide a fluff alert. Consider yourself warned. Enjoy:D
Chapter 28—A Closed Door and an Opened Window
Monday evening saw all of Gryffindor Tower, save for Ginny and Harry, unaware of Parvati's return. They both put their noses into their books, pretending to study and gently nudging one another when one the other jumped each time the portrait hole opened. Harry was sure that Hermione, at least, was beginning to suspect something, but Ron remained oblivious.
Harry, for the most part, could not shake the images from his mind. Visions of Parvati and Shacklebolt haunted his mind's eye. The relief he felt from Parvati's return was outweighed by the guilt he felt for her injuries. He could not shake the sight of Parvati's blood on Professor McGonagall's hands, nor could he forget Parvati's strained voice. She had said little, but her pain was evident in her faint tone.
He tried not to blame himself, really, he did. He did not need another trip to Dumbledore's office or another row with Ron to remind himself that he had no reason to take the blame. But try as he might, he could not come up with another reason why Voldemort would choose Parvati. The Dark Lord's obsession was with Harry, no one else. So then why would he abduct a student? With everything he knew about Voldemort, and Harry felt he knew more than most, he could not figure out any gain Voldemort hoped to achieve through Parvati. Voldemort did not usually waste time on anything that did not have significance to his gain of power, unless it was the mindless torture of Muggles, Muggle-borns, or blood traitors. Parvati did not fit into any of those categories. So what did Voldemort want with her?
Harry ran through the arguments over and over in his head to the point of exhaustion. He tossed and turned all night trying to figure out the puzzle. He eventually fell into a fitful sleep with images of stone walls, chains, and a circle of Death Eaters.
Tuesday morning dawned overcast with heavy clouds. Harry woke earlier than usual and dragged himself outside for his morning workout. The cool air helped to clear his foggy mind and he pushed himself harder than usual in his training. The harder his body worked, the less he thought about the broken body of his ex-girlfriend lying in the hospital wing. Soon everyone would know she had returned. He wondered if he would still be skirted in the hallways as though he were a deranged maniac eager to deliver innocent students on a platter for the Dark Lord. Harry grunted angrily and put himself through another set of push-ups.
Muscles burning and joints shaking, Harry returned to the common room after subjecting himself to an extra thirty minutes of self-induced torture. He was headed toward the boys' staircase when he caught a flicker of movement in his peripheral vision. He turned to see Ginny stretching in an armchair by the fireplace.
"Hey," she murmured sleepily.
"Hi," Harry returned, walking over to her. She was bundled in a thick dressing gown and had ridiculously large, fluffy slippers on her feet. She rubbed her eyes tiredly and frowned at Harry.
"Ron wasn't kidding when he said you woke up at dawn to run," she said.
Harry ran his fingers through his unruly hair and shrugged, trying to ignore how truly adorable she looked all mussed up from sleep.
"What are you doing down here?" he asked.
Ginny's eyes ran over Harry from head to toe, and he was suddenly very conscious of the fact that his clothes were soaked in sweat. His cheeks flushed in embarrassment.
"I couldn't sleep," she replied. "I couldn't stop thinking about Parvati."
Harry reassessed his observation of Ginny. He had assumed she'd been dozing on the armchair, but now he wondered if her tangled hair and half-opened eyes were evidence of a night of tossing and turning and little sleep.
"I know what you mean."
Ginny narrowed her eyes at him. "I've also been worried that you'd be brooding again."
Harry looked at her in surprise, then smiled sheepishly. "Maybe a bit," he admitted.
"Well, I s'pose it's an improvement if you're actually admitting it," Ginny sighed, standing and walking to Harry. She grabbed his hands and looked them over. "And your knuckles aren't bleeding. I'm impressed."
Harry tried to chuckle at her teasing, but it came out more as a choke. He was finding it extremely difficult to breathe with her standing so close and holding his hands in hers. She seemed rather content to continue holding his hands. Part of him wanted to yank them away and run upstairs to put distance between them; another part of him wanted to tug her closer so his hands could get lost in the mass of fiery red tangles in an enthusiastic snog.
He frowned at his rampant imagination.
Ginny squeezed his hands, misinterpreting his frown. "There's nothing you could have done, Harry."
"Yeah, I know," he replied, pulling his hands free. "I just can't figure out why they took her."
Ginny paused, frowning in thought. "Maybe she knows."
Harry studied Ginny. "You think so?"
Ginny shrugged. "It's a possibility. Maybe she'll have some answers when we see her again."
Harry's frown deepened. "I hope people let her be. I don't want anyone hounding her for information. I'm sure she'll tell Dumbledore anything significant, but the rest of the school can bloody well mind their own business."
Ginny's eyes shone at him.
"What?" Harry sighed.
"You're a good friend, Harry."
He scowled, uncomfortable with the compliment. In his mind, good friends didn't put their friends in danger.
"When do you suppose everyone else will find out?" Harry asked.
Ginny shrugged. "I'm not sure. I peeked in the sixth years' dormitory to see if Hermione was awake, and I noticed Lavender was gone. I'm assuming she's been taken to see Parvati."
Harry was about to voice his own opinion in the matter but was interrupted by the sound of the portrait hole opening. He and Ginny turned to see Professor McGonagall entering the common room.
"Ah, Mr. Potter, Miss Weasley, I'm pleased to find some students awake. Mr. Potter, go wake Mr. Weasley and have him help you wake the other students. Miss Weasley, find Miss Granger and do the same. I'd like all the students to meet here."
Harry and Ginny glanced at each other in alarm.
"Does this have to do with Parvati, Professor?" Ginny asked.
Professor McGonagall's eyes flickered. Her eyes softened as she took in Harry and Ginny's worried faces.
"Yes, Miss Weasley. I'll be informing the students about Miss Patil."
"How is she?" Harry asked, his stomach knotting.
"You'll find out along with everyone else, Mr. Potter. Now go on and do as I asked."
Harry looked at Ginny, whose posture seemed to echo Harry's dissatisfaction with McGonagall's answer. After a moment, Ginny shrugged, admitting defeat, and turned and climbed the stairs to the girls' dormitory.
Waking Ron was as unpleasant a task as it ever was, but once roused, he and Harry quickly gathered the boys and herded them downstairs. It seemed to take the girls quite a bit longer, and Harry assumed the delay lay with the girls that insisted on applying their makeup. Hermione and Ginny's repetitive glares at the more 'done up' girls seemed to prove the point. Once everyone was gathered and settled, Professor McGonagall cleared her throat, stilling the room.
"I've had all of you woken this morning to bring you good news. Miss Patil has been returned to us. She is currently in the hospital wing recovering," Professor McGonagall stated in a clear, strong voice.
The students interrupted with gasps and shouts. A cacophony of questions was fired at the professor.
"Recovering? Is she hurt?"
"Can we see her?"
"What's wrong with her?"
"Did she say who took her?"
"Did they catch the Death Eaters?"
"How did she get away?"
McGonagall raised her hands, commanding silence.
"I am not willing to give, nor do you need to know, any of the details. While Miss Patil has been gone for a week, and I'm sure many of you are eager to see her again, she will be going home for awhile for some peace and quiet. We did not want Miss Patil to be overwhelmed with well-wishers, nor did Madam Pomfrey want a constant parade of students in the hospital wing.
"Miss Patil will return to Hogwarts when she and her family deem her ready. I will ask you in advance to respect her privacy upon her return. If she desires to share her experience with you, that is her decision, but I will not tolerate any needling her for information."
Students broke off into small groups for hushed conversations. Harry stood numbly, running McGonagall's words through his head, trying to work out a deeper meaning.
"You knew, didn't you?"
Harry turned to Hermione, and asked, "Sorry?"
Hermione leaned toward him and whispered, "You knew that Parvati was back."
Harry knew there was no point in trying to deny it. He nodded.
"W-What? How?" Ron stammered.
Harry glanced at Ginny. She nodded her head in silent agreement.
"Ginny and I found her outside the Hogwarts gates after Quidditch practice yesterday."
"I knew something was going on!" Hermione exclaimed. "I just thought you two had … never mind. Tell us what happened."
Harry allowed Ginny to give the details. The event was still crystal clear in his mind, yet it seemed unreal. Hearing Ginny's account of the events solidified the bizarre incident as truth. It made him feel even more uneasy about Voldemort's actions.
"Mr. Potter! Mr. Potter, over here, please!"
Harry turned at the sound of McGonagall's voice. She was standing near the portrait hole, beckoning him to her. He glanced at his friends who were all looking at him questioningly. Harry shrugged and made his way to his professor.
"Come with me, Mr. Potter."
Harry obeyed and followed McGonagall through the portrait hole. Had he done something that warranted a talking to from his Head of House? He couldn't remember any rule breaking as of late, but trouble always did seem to find him.
After they'd passed through several corridors, Professor McGonagall stopped abruptly, glanced around as though searching for eavesdroppers, then leaned toward Harry to speak quietly.
"I've something I'd like you to do, Harry."
Harry swallowed uncomfortably, unused to his professor using his given name. This was obviously something she personally wanted him to do, not something deemed necessary by the school or the headmaster.
"Yes, Professor?"
Professor McGonagall pressed her lips into a thin line, studying Harry closely. He straightened his posture, though he wasn't sure why.
"I'd like you to talk to Miss Patil."
What?
Harry swallowed thickly as his heart pounded in his chest. While he was glad Parvati was back, he did not want to face her. He didn't think he could handle the accusation that would surely be in her eyes, if not in her voice. He had worked so hard on accepting that he could not be to blame for her capture, what would he do if she said it was his fault? What if she blamed him? It would confirm all his fears. It would prove that Voldemort would have his lackeys attack anyone that could be associated to Harry. Harry didn't want that responsibility. He already feared for the lives of his friends, and he really didn't want confirmation of his fears.
Harry shook his head, mouthing wordlessly that he would not, could not go.
Professor McGonagall would have none of his spineless mumblings. She grabbed him by the elbow and pulled him in the direction of the hospital wing. He stumbled along, unable to voice his apprehension.
"I don't expect you to stay long, Potter, but I think it would be beneficial for Parvati to know that she has someone to talk to if need be," Professor McGonagall explained.
Someone to talk to? Oh god.
Professor McGonagall thought Harry would be a good person for Parvati to talk to? Did she not know that Harry was complete rubbish with girls, especially at conversation with girls?
"I don't know how much you've shared with her in the past, but it may be helpful to Miss Patil if she knew that another student had faced You-Know-Who and has been able to carry on with his life without too much trouble."
Harry felt as though a bucket of ice cold water had been dumped over him.
"She saw Voldemort?" Harry choked out.
Professor McGonagall stopped her brisk walk to face Harry. Her eyes were sharp, though she looked weary.
"Yes, Mr. Potter. She was face-to-face with You-Know-Who at least once, though I fear it may have been more than that. She has been traumatized and is not yet ready to divulge any details of her capture. The Aurors that were present when she escaped described the situation they walked into, but we all fear there is much more to be learned about the time Miss Patil spent away from us."
"And you want me to talk to her?" he squeaked. How on earth was he, mindless git extraordinaire, supposed to talk to a traumatized girl?
Professor McGonagall's gaze softened. "She's feeling very alone, Harry. She needs her friends."
Harry shook his head. "I'm not sure she'd want to see me."
"You may have broken her heart, Mr. Potter, but you are a fierce friend, and that's all that matters now," she said, resuming their path to the hospital wing.
Harry's eyes snapped up to Professor McGonagall. He was shocked by her words, not only that the professor knew of the short-lived romantic relationship between him and Parvati, but also her statement that he had broken Parvati's heart. Had Parvati really cared that much for him? He couldn't see how or why. He was just plain Harry, not worthy of … well … really, anyone. But if he had indeed broken Parvati's heart, isn't that all the more reason to stay away from her?
His feet followed Professor McGonagall's mindlessly. He was lost in thought and nearly walked into the back of his professor when she stopped once again.
"Wait here while I make the necessary arrangements."
Harry realized they had arrived at the hospital wing. He watched with increasing dread as Professor McGonagall disappeared through the doors. He began to pace in the corridor outside the hospital wing where Parvati lay inside recovering from Merlin knows what kind of wounds. He continued to question Professor McGonagall's logic. What if he went inside and Parvati refused to see him? Worse, what if he made her cry? He always seemed to make girls cry. Why would this be any different? And what on earth would he say? Hi, Parvati, sorry that sick demented psycho took you prisoner. Want to talk about it? Harry groaned. He couldn't do this. He couldn't. He would make a mess of everything and come out making Parvati feel worse.
He began debating the consequences of escaping down the corridor when the doors to the hospital wing swung open. Lavender and Padma walked out, looking as though they hadn't slept all evening. They both stopped short upon seeing Harry.
"What are you doing here?" Padma asked.
"Parvati's not supposed to have any visitors. You can't go in there, Harry," Lavender cut in.
Harry's mouth opened and closed. Did it matter that he didn't want to go in? He would have loved to take their words to heart and return to Gryffindor Tower without a second thought. Unfortunately, McGonagall appeared through the doorway, beckoning Harry in. Harry glanced at the two girls, debating whether or not to say anything. They stared at him with a mixture of distrust and curiosity. Harry decided it wasn't worth trying to explain anything to them. They were simply being protective of Parvati, and nothing he said would make any difference. He slipped past them and followed McGonagall into the hospital room.
Harry's eyes were drawn immediately to the only occupied hospital bed. Parvati lay propped up, looking in much better shape than she had yesterday. A witch and a wizard sat next to the bed speaking to her in soft tones. With horrifying dread, Harry realized that the couple must be Parvati's parents.
Bloody hell!
He felt sick. His ex-girlfriend's parents. Surely they would blame Harry for everything that happened to their daughter. If not for her kidnapping, then they'd hate him solely for the fact that he'd supposedly broken Parvati's heart. Having to talk to Parvati was enough for Harry; facing her parents was too much. Who the bloody hell did McGonagall think she was, putting Harry through this? She had to be punishing him for something. He silently vowed to never break school rules again if it meant McGonagall dishing out this kind of retribution.
"Go on, Mr. Potter."
Harry looked at Professor McGonagall as though she had three heads. Did she actually think he would willingly walk up to the Patils? No sodding way!
McGonagall sighed and gripped Harry's arm once again, pulling him, rather roughly, to the small group. Parvati's parents looked up at the sound of their approach, their eyes falling on Harry.
His stomach twisted painfully.
Parvati's father stood and held out his hand. "Mr. Potter. It's an honour to meet you."
Harry shook Mr. Patil's hand in confusion. He glanced at Parvati. She was determinedly avoiding his gaze.
Harry cleared his throat and replied, "It's nice to meet you, sir."
Mrs. Patil stood and shook Harry's hand, saying, "Parvati's told us so much about you."
Harry swallowed and glanced at Parvati again. She was blushing, but still refused to look at him. He returned his gaze to Mrs. Patil and forced a smile and nod in her direction, words failing him completely.
Mrs. Patil turned to Parvati. "We'll just be over talking to Madam Pomfrey. Call us if you need anything."
Parvati nodded and watched her parents and Professor McGonagall as they walked away.
Harry shifted from one foot to another. He had no idea what he was supposed to say or do. Should he sit in the chair beside her? Should he stay standing? Should he welcome her back?
He chanced a glance at her and found her studying his attire. He flushed in embarrassment. He had just met her parents in his t-shirt and shorts, completely soaked in sweat. Not exactly the best first impression.
"I'm sorry I'm not properly dressed. I haven't had a chance to change since my workout this morning," Harry mumbled.
Parvati's eyes darted to his and then refocused on her bedcover. "Oh, no, Harry. You look fine. You … you always look fine. I—I'm the one who looks horrible."
Harry shook his head and moved to the chair beside the bed.
"Actually I was thinking you looked a lot better since yesterday."
"So… so that was you? At the gate?" she asked softly.
"Yeah, I was there," Harry replied softly, sensing her discomfort.
"How awful did I look?" she asked, focusing on a loose thread on the bedcover.
Should he be honest? He knew Parvati hated not looking in tip-top shape, but he also knew that he would rather have someone be honest with him.
"You looked like shite."
Parvati's eyes shot to his in surprise. Harry smiled sympathetically.
She returned his smile and replied, "I felt like shite. Still do, actually."
Harry nodded, wondering how many injuries she was still suffering from. He knew from experience that the worst injuries were often the ones that couldn't be seen. This was especially true when Voldemort was the assailant. This thought reminded Harry of his reason for being there.
He leaned his elbows on his knees, unsure how to proceed. He didn't want to upset her, but he wanted to at least try to do what McGonagall had asked of him.
He took a deep breath and said, "Professor McGonagall told me that you saw Voldemort."
Parvati's body stiffened. Her lips pressed together into a thin line and her eyes blinked rapidly. She nodded.
Unsure how to react to her response, Harry tried to lighten the conversation. "Is he still a right ugly wanker?"
Parvati's eyes widened as she looked at Harry. Her voice was soft and trembled as she spoke.
"He doesn't even look human."
Harry nodded. "I don't expect there's much left of him that's human." He studied Parvati, wondering how much more he could get out of her. "Did you speak to him?"
She nodded, a few tears slipping down her cheeks.
Harry pressed on. "Do you know why he wanted you? I mean, did the Death Eaters take you specifically, or did they want any Hogwarts student and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time?"
He held his breath, hoping he hadn't gone too far. Tears slid silently down her face, her fingers twisting the blanket fiercely between her hands.
"He wanted me."
Harry stared at her, his heart pounding. Oh god, it was true. It had to be because of him. It had to be.
"Was it… did they want you because of me?" he asked.
Parvati looked at him through her tears. His gut clenched painfully. He steeled himself for her answer.
"That's what I thought at first, but now… now I'm not sure."
Harry's breath was coming out in sharp bursts. That wasn't exactly a denial. He sat in his chair, frozen as Parvati continued.
"The first time I was taken to … to… You-Know-Who, he… he invaded my mind. He flicked through my memories, and… and he seemed to concentrate on my memories with you."
Harry wasn't sure what to make of that information.
"Why would he want your memories of me?"
Parvati shook her head. "I don't know. He didn't find what he was looking for, though. I think I proved to be a big disappointment to him."
Harry frowned. What did Voldemort think he would find in Parvati's mind? Parvati hadn't been there with Harry on any of his past escapades. They didn't share any experiences that Voldemort would have any interest in. It made absolutely no sense. Unless…
Unless Voldemort thought Harry had told Parvati about the prophecy. But that would mean that Voldemort knew that Harry had heard the prophecy. There was no way for Voldemort to know that. As far as anyone was concerned, the truth about the prophecy was destroyed with the orb. Harry was sure Dumbledore wasn't about to go spouting off that Harry knew its contents.
Parvati's voice cut through his internal musings.
"It seemed that his initial plan only included me, but when I couldn't give him what he wanted, he… he used me to get Professor Trelawney to cooperate."
Harry's stomach dropped to his feet. He stopped breathing.
"W-What?" he whispered, hoarsely. Since when was Professor Trelawney involved?
Parvati still wasn't looking at Harry. Her eyes spilled tears onto her cheeks as she seemed to relive her experience. Her voice shook as her shoulders trembled.
"H-He attacked Professor Trelawney. A-Anytime Professor Trelawney wouldn't do as he asked, he would… he would…"
Parvati turned her head away from Harry, squeezing her eyes shut as she fought the terror inside her. As much as Harry wanted to hear the rest of her story, specifically what on earth any of this had to do with Trelawney, he could not bear to see her go through this.
"It's okay, Parvati. You don't have to talk about this," Harry said, softly.
She shook her head. "Why did he have to hurt Professor Trelawney? She's never bothered anyone!"
Harry swallowed. His heart pounded frantically in his chest. Parvati was right. Professor Trelawney had never bothered anyone. She kept to herself. She, for the most part, was rather mad and most people took her ramblings with a grain of salt. But she had been involved with something that Voldemort was deeply interested in. Harry's gut clenched. What if Dumbledore was wrong? What if Professor Trelawney did have a memory of the prophecy? All Voldemort had to do was figure out the initials on the orb's label …
Harry took a deep breath. "Parvati … are you certain it was Professor Trelawney that you saw?"
She sobbed and nodded her head.
"What… what did Voldemort do to her?"
Parvati sniffled. Her voice trembled as she spoke. "They forced a potion down her throat… and … and then he did some kind of spell on her."
Harry leaned forward. "Do you remember the spell?"
Parvati shook her head, a sob escaping her throat.
Harry hung his head low, trying not to feel disappointed. If Parvati had remembered the spell, then perhaps Dumbledore could figure out Voldemort's plans.
"Harry?"
Harry looked up. Parvati was staring wide-eyed at him. Her eyes reflected the days of pain she had endured. He silently cursed himself for being so selfish.
"Yeah?" he answered.
She swallowed and took a deep breath. "Is it… is it true that you've been under the Cruciatus Curse?"
Harry's body stiffened. "Yes," he replied uncomfortably.
"Do … do you ever forget the pain?"
Oh god.
Parvati had been put under the Cruciatus Curse. No one deserved that. No one.
Harry forced his voice past the large lump in his throat. "No. You don't ever forget the pain. It'll eventually go to the back of your mind, but … but you'll always remember."
Parvati frowned and nodded.
"Parvati," Harry began, hesitatingly, "have you told this all to Dumbledore or McGonagall? About Trelawney, I mean."
Parvati shook her head. "I… I couldn't talk about it… It's too hard."
Harry smiled gently. "But you just told me."
Her cheeks coloured and she looked away. "I know. It was just… easier… talking to you."
Harry raised an eyebrow, impressed that McGonagall had got it right.
"You need to tell them, Parvati. I know they may seem intimidating at first, but when it comes to stuff like this, there's no one better to have in your corner. It's really important that you talk to at least one of them. They'll make sure the right people know about it so they can try to stop Voldemort from hurting anyone else."
Parvati pressed her lips together and nodded. She leaned back against her pillows and stared up at the ceiling. Harry stood and was about to take his leave when Parvati spoke.
"I think it was a memory spell."
Harry's head shot to her. She looked at him and repeated, "The spell Voldemort used on Professor Trelawney. I think it was a memory spell."
The world seemed to spin around Harry as he processed Parvati's words. A memory spell? Was he right? Was Voldemort after the prophecy?
"Did," Harry began, his voice thick, "did it work?"
Parvati frowned in thought. "I don't know. I think the Aurors got there before he was finished. He seemed to be able to see what he wanted, but I don't think he actually got it, if that makes any sense. He was the first to leave."
Harry's heart thudded in his chest. "And Professor Trelawney?"
"Professor McGonagall said the Aurors took her to St. Mungo's. She's in the Spell Damage Ward. That's all they'd tell me."
Harry let out a small sigh in relief. The Spell Damage Ward wasn't the best place to be, but at least she was no longer with Voldemort.
After chatting about a few more mundane topics, Harry took leave of Parvati and made his way back to Gryffindor Tower. It was blissfully empty, allowing Harry to process his conversation with Parvati as he showered and got dressed for lessons. He didn't feel right talking to Ron or Hermione about anything yet. Since he hadn't told them about the prophecy, he couldn't really get to the base of his fears in a conversation with them.
Parvati's experience made Harry doubt whether he'd ever be able to share the prophecy with his friends. Of course, it wouldn't matter if they knew or not, Voldemort would likely assume they did know. Would they be better off not knowing if they were captured? Ugh. Harry didn't want to think about his friends being taken as Parvati had been. He couldn't stand the thought of them suffering because of him.
Harry was thankful that the first class of the day was Care of Magical Creatures; Hagrid was surely the only professor that wouldn't give Harry detention for being late. As it was, Hagrid simply gave Harry a wide grin and a wave and carried on with his lecture.
Harry drifted from class to class, dodging questions from Ron and Hermione concerning his meeting with McGonagall. Lessons were laden with work, forcing his mind away from his brooding thoughts. By the time his study period arrived at the end of the day, Harry's mind was overwhelmed with new theories and complex spells. He sat for some time with Ron in the library, staring listlessly across the room. Frustrated, he stood up and slung his rucksack over his shoulder.
"I need some fresh air," he said.
Ron looked up curiously from his Transfiguration text. "Do you want company?"
Harry shook his head. "Nah. I just need to clear my head a bit."
Ron nodded, knowing better than to get overbearing. "Right. You know where to find me if you change your mind."
Harry smiled and nodded at Ron, thankful to have him as a best mate.
Harry made his way through the corridors of the castle to the Entrance Hall. He pushed open the large doors and was greeted with a rush of wind and thick, low-lying clouds. He tightened the collar of his robes against the wind, and trekked down to the lake. His feet led him to his favourite spot, slightly concealed from the castle, yet close enough to keep watch on any goings on all the same. He dropped his rucksack on the shore and settled on a large rock that jutted out into the lake. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, as he stared into the water below. This side of the lake was sheltered by the Forbidden Forest, and the water was still and untouched by the day's wind. The crisp autumn air bit as his cheeks. The low-lying clouds swirled above him, reflecting his mood.
Harry went through his conversation with Parvati. He tried to look at all possibilities. One was that Voldemort had wanted Trelawney and Parvati for something that had absolutely nothing to do with Harry.
He had trouble taking much stock in that one.
Another possibility was that Voldemort was after the prophecy.
This was the possibility that Harry couldn't deny. It made everything fall into line. Voldemort took Parvati in hopes that Harry had told his girlfriend about the prophecy. An easy target. A Hogwarts student. Not nearly trained well-enough to fight an onslaught of Death Eaters. Harry's insides roiled with fury at the thought.
And then when he couldn't get the information from the innocent Hogwarts student, Voldemort went to the next step. Harry would admit it was slightly more daring, taking a Hogwarts professor. But anyone who knew Professor Trelawney would know that she had less fight in her than a first year student on his first trip on the Hogwarts Express. Harry couldn't imagine her using any sort of defensive magic, which made her capture just as despicable as Parvati's.
But Dumbledore had said that Professor Trelawney had no memory of the prophecy. Wouldn't Voldemort know that?
The memory spell. What if Voldemort had found a way to make Professor Trelawney remember? Maybe that's what Parvati had witnessed…
Yes. That made sense. Voldemort spent all of last year carving the elaborate plan to get Harry to the Department of Mysteries so that Voldemort could get his hands on the prophecy. Was it so outlandish that he would go to even greater lengths to find a way to retrieve the memory from the prophecy's provider? No. Not outlandish at all. It's exactly something Voldemort would do if he was still hell bent on finding out the contents of the prophecy.
Harry sighed, wishing he had more control. Wishing he had never heard of that sodding prophecy. Wishing that the thing with Voldemort would just be over and done with. Wishing that no one else would be hurt because he hadn't 'vanquished the Dark Lord'.
Usually, Harry was successful in not allowing the knowledge of the prophecy weigh him down. But the weight of his knowledge followed him everywhere. No matter how successful Harry thought he had pushed it out of his mind, the prophecy was always there lurking. It was as though the prophecy were a beast, and Harry its prey. At such times, the prophecy consumed him completely.
Perhaps that was why he hadn't noticed anyone walking towards him.
"Hi, Harry."
Harry jumped, nearly toppling off the rock. His heart pounding in surprise, he whipped his head around to see Ginny standing on the shore.
Ginny's forehead wrinkled as she studied Harry's demeanor. "Sorry, Harry. I didn't mean to disturb you. I was just looking for a place to collect my thoughts, and instead I found you."
Harry studied Ginny. There was something off in her voice, and if he didn't know better, he would almost argue that it looked as though she had been crying. Harry felt a pang in his heart as he saw the sadness in her eyes.
"What's wrong, Ginny?"
She stared out across the lake, her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Her lips were pressed into thin line. She blinked slowly, and then turned her soft brown eyes on him.
"Dean and I broke up."
Harry's mouth dropped open. Pure elation careened through his body, but the sadness in Ginny's eyes tore at his heart.
"I'm sorry, Ginny," he said softly. Well, he was sorry. Sorry that she was upset, anyway.
Ginny sat down beside him, drawing her knees to her chest.
"Your talk with him didn't go so well, then?" Harry asked, remembering Ginny's determination last night to talk things through with the Great Git.
Ginny shook her head. "The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Dean and I were never going to work. He wanted things from me that I couldn't give, and he… well, he's just not right for me."
Harry swallowed, knowing it would be tactless for him to scream out, 'Damn right!'
Instead, he said, "So, when did you break up with him then?"
Ginny laughed, which ended up sounding more like a sob. "He beat me to it."
Harry watched her silently as she worked her throat.
"He realized he didn't like being last on my list of priorities. He told me he didn't think it was something he should have to ask for, and I suppose he's right. I mean, if I really cared for him, he should be at the top of my list, don't you think?"
Harry shrugged noncommittally. "I'm not exactly an expert in this area."
Ginny smiled at him sadly. "Well, I don't think he knew how to handle my temper, anyway."
Harry chuckled, remembering the occasions when he had been on the receiving ends of one of her tantrums. "Yeah, I'd say he's better off."
A choked laugh escaped Ginny's throat, only to be smothered when she buried her face in her knees. Her back shook as she cried softly. Harry felt a stab of regret at his poor choice of words.
"Ginny, I'm sorry. That was a stupid thing for me to say," he said, placing a hand awkwardly on her back.
Ginny leaned into him, resting her head on his shoulder. "It's okay, Harry. It's not what you said. Even though I know Dean and I are better off apart, it still sucks to be dumped."
Harry worked his throat, unsure of what to say. He decided to keep his mouth shut for fear of saying something wrong again. He rested his cheek on top of her head, his arm circling her back, and his hand rubbing her arm. He tried to deny how perfect she felt at his side.
She groaned and swiped at her eyes. "Merlin, I feel like such a failure. I thought dating was supposed to be fun. I think I'm destined to grow up to be an old spinster. Can't you just picture me living in a rundown cottage with an army of cats, knitting little sweaters for them, and sharing our meals at the kitchen table?"
Harry laughed and shook his head. "Definitely not. You've got too much sprite in you to become a spinster."
Ginny snorted.
Harry squeezed her shoulder. "It's true. I bet there are already blokes lining up to ask you out."
"I doubt that."
Harry rested his chin on top of Ginny's head, breathing in her sweet scent. "I think you'd be surprised, Miss Weasley. You're quite the hot number," he said teasingly.
Ginny elbowed him in the ribs, causing Harry to drop his arm from her. She turned and looked into his eyes, smiling.
"You can't be serious. First of all, no bloke is going to want to put up with my temper, and second, Ron's got all the decent blokes scared off."
Harry shook his head. "Nah. I can guarantee there are loads of blokes that have fancied you for months like me but thought they never stood a chance."
The words hung in the air in front of Harry, like a bubble in those Muggle cartoons.
Like me? Like me!
Oh, Merlin! Maybe she didn't hear those two words. Maybe he didn't actually say them … maybe he just thought them in his head. Maybe…
He chanced a glance at Ginny.
Bloody hell!
She was staring at him with her mouth hanging open, confusion replacing the hurt in her eyes.
Harry's heart pounded noisily in his chest. He was such an unconceivable prat! He tried to think of a different way his words could be interpreted so that he hadn't just said… Oh god. It was hopeless. Ginny had been confiding in him as a friend, and he'd just said that he … and she'd just broken up with her boyfriend.
God, Potter. That was smooth. Real smooth. Sodding prat
Hurry up and say something! The sooner you say something, the more likely she'll forget—both what you said, and that you're an inconceivable git.
A drop of rain plopped on Harry's cheek. Another on his glasses. He ran his fingers through his hair, fighting for something normal to say. Scratch that. Fighting for anything to say, because Merlin knew Harry's anything but normal.
A steady drizzle set in. Harry glanced up at the sky. The clouds were darkening and the wind began to pick up.
He cleared his throat. "We should get back to the castle before—"
His words were cut off by a crash of thunder. The skies opened up and the rain drove itself in a fury to the earth below.
"Let's go!" Harry shouted, jumping from the rock. He picked up his and Ginny's rucksacks. Ginny landed beside him, a grin on her face.
"Race ya!"
Harry had barely processed her words when he watched her take off, full sprint toward the castle. He hiked their bags further up his shoulder and ran after her in pursuit. She may be small, but Merlin, she could run. Harry had barely caught up to her when they stumbled through the doorway of the castle. Ginny leaned against the wall to catch her breath, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed.
Harry shook his head like a dog, sending droplets of water flying across the floor.
"Come on," he said, pulling on Ginny's arm. "We've got to get out of here before Filch finds us and gives us detention for messing up his floors."
They bounded up the many staircases, continuing their race. They pulled and shoved each other, trying to gain the advantage. They both stumbled to a halt, breathless, in front of the Fat Lady's portrait.
Harry dropped their rucksacks to the floor, and put his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath. He glanced at Ginny. Despite the fact that her hair was plastered to her head from the rain, she couldn't have looked prettier. Her cheeks were still flushed and her eyes were sparkling brightly. She grinned at him.
"I think I can skive off Battle Training tonight. That was enough of a workout for me."
Harry raised an eyebrow. "Better throw in a few push ups for good measure."
Ginny rolled her eyes. "No thanks. I s'pose I'll have to go to training. I wouldn't want to get in the teacher's bad books."
Harry winked and said, "Don't worry. I can put in a good word for you."
What's got into you, Potter? Did you seriously just wink at Ginny Weasley?
Ginny giggled.
Harry usually hated it when girls giggled. It always made him uncomfortable. But Ginny's giggle … Ginny's giggle made him warm inside.
Harry grinned, picked up his rucksack, and turned to give the Fat Lady the password. Ginny grabbed Harry's arm before he got the chance to speak. Harry turned to her and saw that her face had drawn serious.
He swallowed hard. "What is it, Gin?"
Ginny searched Harry's eyes. She cleared her throat and looked down at her hands.
"I just wanted to thank you … for listening … and for the nice things you said about me."
"You don't need to thank me. I didn't say anything that wasn't true."
Ginny stepped closer to Harry, her eyes searching his. She bit her lower lip, before asking, "Not anything?"
Harry's heart jumped into his throat. He had been foolish to think a little bit of rain would have washed her memory of his blunder. He knew what she was asking. It was the point of no return. He knew he had to dive in head first or walk away to never go back again. The timing was off, but it was now or never.
Harry stared into Ginny's eyes, dark and open wide waiting for his response. His heart pounded loudly in his head, and he felt his cheeks begin to burn. He attempted to swallow the enormous lump in his throat.
He looked her straight in the eye, and said, "Everything I said was true, Ginny. Everything."
Ginny's eyes widened and then fluttered as she moved her gaze to the floor. Her eyebrows knitted together, and her mouth opened and closed as she struggled to find her voice.
"I … I don't know what to say."
Harry was certain a rock had been dropped in his stomach. He didn't know how, exactly, he had expected her to react. Maybe a slap across the face? A bone crushing hug? A mind-blowing snog? He supposed he expected all sorts of reactions, but not a non-reaction. It was worse than any other scenario he had thought up.
"I'm sorry, Ginny. I never meant to—to say anything… and I don't know why I did. It just kind of … slipped out. I mean… our friendship is more important than anything. I never, never want to lose you as a friend, Gin. So… so let's just forget about this, yeah?"
She cocked her head to the side, trying to puzzle him out. "You fancy me, then?"
Merlin! Did she need a written confession?
Harry nodded.
"Since when?"
Harry had his own questions. For example, since when was Ginny Weasley into bloody torture?
He swallowed and shrugged. "Since sometime this summer, I reckon."
Ginny's eyes widened. "What about Parvati? You were dating Parvati."
Hmm… good point.
"I … uh … didn't really acknowledge my, er, feelings, until Parvati called me on it."
"What? What do you mean?"
Harry squirmed uncomfortably, his face a bright red. "Parvati, she, umm … when we broke up, she said she knew that I'd never look at her the way I look at you." He cleared his throat and continued. "Although, I don't think I really accepted what she had accused me of until our game of Catch the Snitch. Then… then I knew for sure."
"Knew what for sure?"
Torture. Pure torture.
"That I, er, fancy you."
A big hole. That's what Harry needed. A huge, bottomless pit for him to throw himself into and never have to face Ginny Weasley again.
"And you're not taking the mickey? You're not just saying this to make me feel better?"
"No! I wouldn't lie about something like this!" Harry snapped, frustrated.
"I know. I'm sorry." She did look sorry, and confused. "I … I just don't know what to make of this information."
Harry swallowed. "Like I said, Ginny. Let's just forget about it. I don't want to ruin our friendship."
Ginny nodded, her brow furrowed. "What if I fancied you? Would you still want to be just friends?"
What if … what if she … what if she ….? Was she saying she did? No. No, it was just a … a what if, but … WHAT IF?
Blimey! When would this bloody torture end?
Clearing his throat, Harry said, "I—I s'pose that if you should… ever … uh, fancy me, I would, er, wanttobemorethanfriends."
"All right, then," Ginny said, nodding thoughtfully.
All right, then? ALL RIGHT, THEN? What kind of response was that? I should have never opened my bloody mouth. That's it, I'm going to take a vow of silence on all things concerning Ginny Weasley.
Harry turned to give the Fat Lady the password. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off.
"Aren't you going to kiss her?"
Just when he thought things could not possibly get any worse. Harry stared in horror at the Fat Lady.
"No!" he hissed. He dared not look at Ginny. Oh god, what would she be thinking?
"Go on, dear," the Fat Lady whispered conspiratorially, yet loud enough for Ginny to hear clearly. The Fat Lady's eyes darted up and down the corridor. "There's no one around. Give her a kiss. Show her how you feel."
This is not happening, this is not bloody happening!
Harry felt sick. He had never been more embarrassed in his life. His cheeks and ears were burning and his fists were clenched. He dared not look at Ginny. He couldn't.
"Bon Appetit," he said, his jaw clenched hoping to make it clear that he had no intention of playing a role in any soap opera for the Fat Lady. She made no move at his mention of the password.
Harry ran his fingers through his hair with frustration. He finally found the courage to look at Ginny. She stood with her hands covering her mouth, obviously trying to contain her mirth.
"I'm glad you think this is funny," he snapped, his nerves thoroughly frayed.
Ginny dropped her hands and laughed softly. "I'm sorry, well, no, I'm not really sorry. This is rather funny."
Harry growled. He focused his frustration on the Fat Lady. "Listen, you don't understand what's going on here," he said, making a motion between himself and Ginny. "Just let us in. The last thing she wants is for me to … do what you said."
The Fat Lady arched her eyebrow. "I wouldn't be so sure." She tilted her head toward Ginny, knowingly.
He turned to look at Ginny. She was blushing and biting her lip.
She couldn't possibly…
"I s'pose there's nothing wrong with one small, innocent kiss."
Harry's eyes widened, certain that he had misheard her. The flush in her cheeks told him otherwise.
He swallowed. Hard.
His breath shortened. His heart raced. His mouth dried.
He dropped his rucksack to the floor. He stepped toward her. He cupped her face, his eyes searching hers. Her eyes dropped to his mouth and she licked her lips imperceptibly. Harry felt himself leaning closer. Her breath was on his cheek. Her eyes fluttered shut. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He closed his eyes.
He kissed her.
Their lips met softly. Electricity surged through Harry's body. He broke away, momentarily. They met again, their kisses stronger and deeper. He felt Ginny tremble. He forced himself to pull away. He rested his forehead against hers, his heart hammering as he tried to catch his breath.
He felt Ginny's giggle rather than heard it.
"Okay, maybe that wasn't so innocent," Ginny whispered, her voice shaking.
Harry stepped back, his forehead wrinkled with worry. "I'm sorry, Ginny. I shouldn't have—"
"Shh," she interrupted softly. "I wasn't complaining."
Harry's heart soared as he grinned goofily.
Ginny shifted awkwardly on her feet. "I'm not sure how to go about this, Harry. I mean … Dean and I just broke up …"
Harry nodded. "We don't need to rush anything, Gin. I mean, you probably need some time to figure out if you might feel, er, that way for me."
Ginny blushed. "I have a sneaking suspicion I might fancy you, Harry."
Goofy grins seemed to be all that Harry was capable of. "Yeah?"
"Yeah, but still, I think I should wait a bit … you know, for Dean's sake."
Harry nodded. "So how long do you wager the Great Git needs?"
Ginny laughed. "Who? The Great Git? Is that what you call him?"
Blushing, Harry replied, "Well, I haven't always called him that. Just … recently."
The smile on Ginny's face warmed Harry to the core. He completely forgot the torture that Ginny had put him through, and the humiliation he suffered at the words of the Fat Lady. All he knew was the incredible warmth and indescribable joy he felt when he looked down into Ginny's sparkling brown eyes.
"You'll let me know, then, when you've made up your mind about me?" Harry asked, unable to resist the urge to take her hand in his.
"Of course," Ginny said, squeezing his hand. He couldn't remember ever seeing her smile so brightly.
"Excellent," he sighed. He gave her hand one last squeeze before picking up his rucksack and turning, once again, to the Fat Lady.
"Bon Appetit," Harry said, smiling.
The Fat Lady winked and moved aside to let Harry and Ginny through. Harry's smile widened as he stepped aside to allow Ginny to go through first. The Fat Lady may have got it right after all.
:D