Sunday, and the patently English rain had started, signifying an early end to summer. But she liked the rain. It never really bothered her at all, as long as it wasn't freezing. She was ready to go on with her plan, but there was one last thing to look into. Her dearest brother Ron, of course. She had gone to the Wheezes the day before and learned that Ron had stopped coming in to work.
Unsurprising. He wouldn't be so bold to face the world after what he (allegedly) did. Again, a hole in the story, a contradiction.
She got up the stairs of the expensive looking building. It was muggle-new, white all over and clean in a non-magical way. Not her style at all, but Hermione – at least the Hermione from before their coma – would probably love it. Another hole. If something had pushed Ron over the edge to come complaining to her before, it wasn't him being certain of adultery. She, Hermione, had changed. And it pained Ginny to admit it, but so had Harry. She'd have to shift, to find out more.
The name under the doorbell was the first sign Ron lived here at all, a yellow piece of Parchment marked 'Weasley – Granger'. Either he hadn't come out too often, or he was still too much in mourning to remove it. She rang the bell and a muggle-artificial song buzzed from behind the door. Nothing. She rang again. She rang three times in quick succession. Finally she just pressed the button and didn't let go.
A heavy thumping came, and the door was thrown open a quarter, revealing Ron's haggard face. And the smell of firewhisky. She crinkled her nose and put her hand up.
"Merlin! Have you been marinating in alcohol since last week?"
"What are you doing here?" he asked with a raspy voice.
"I've come visit. Let me in, will you?"
He sighed and pulled open the door, going into the dark living room and sitting himself on the couch. There were wrappers of snack food scattered on the table and ground. She sat down across from him.
"Well, you're here," he said, scratching at the sleeve of his shirt.
"I wanted to ask you about the night you got arrested."
Ron flinched and put his hands over his face. "Really, Ginny? You want to make me relive that? It's all I've been trying to forget!"
She only noticed it, but his knuckles were swollen and raw.
"Punching walls, are you?"
He hid his hands in his lap, a look of shame in his eyes. "I deserve to feel pain," he said in a small voice.
Ginny rolled her eyes, but he didn't notice. And doubt was getting stronger by the second. Dramatics, yes, that was Ron, always making things ten times worse than they actually were. But turning his hands on his friends – his wife?
"Maybe if you do talk about it, it will make you feel better. And it's not as if you'd tell George, or Bill, would you? And Harry… well I don't think he will see you soon."
He looked at her with some animosity. "And I'd talk to you?"
"You know I'll shut up, and that I'll be honest."
From the cushions of the sofa, he pulled a quarter filled bottle of Ogden's and took a gulp. "Yeah. Fine. I thought you would be on their side."
"I'm not on anyone's side."
He was leaning back, gangly arms limp next to him. He looked down when he spoke. "I read the letter she sent me. It was something stupid, I don't even remember. She was at Grimmauld Place again. I felt this anger inside me, God – I don't think I've ever felt so angry. All just because of a stupid letter.
"And I floo'd over. She came out and stood there, she smiled at me. And she was wearing that stupid sweater, the purple one Harry got for the inter-departmental league. She said something, that she was cold and there was nothing else. But I couldn't think. I have no idea what I was thinking. Just red… all red.
"It was like I was a different person. Like someone else was at the wheel…"
He started sobbing, holding his head. "I hit her. So many times. She must have fought back, but I – I don't remember. I'm such a piece of shit."
His eyes, red before, were now bloodshot, looking down at his hands. "Why did I do that?"
Ginny looked at him intently. "You know there's such a spell to make people do things they wouldn't usually do, right Ron?"
"I would remember being under the Imperius!" he shouted. "Besides, I've been trained to resist it, all Aurors have. All ex-Aurors, I guess." He chuckled. "Disgraced ex-Auror, that's what I am now."
"What happened next?"
He shrugged. "I snapped out of it at some point. The look in her eye, I could tell she was scared of me. I felt so cold then. I knew I'd fucked up my life. George had written to the AD about me taking the floo in anger, they got a hold of Harry, but he was on assignment. I got arrested by Alfred Baxter.
"I got interrogated. I confessed and spent two nights in confinement. And she never pressed charges." He laughed dryly. "That's more than I deserve. She sent over the divorce papers on Monday and I signed them. That's it. I guess I'll just wallow here, if you don't mind." He took another gulp of firewhisky.
She crossed her arms tightly around her chest. Hermione loved Ron, and the reverse was doubly true. They had fights, the kind of fights that made a lot of noise and never lead anywhere. And then Ron would apologize. For that to change, for their marriage to collapse so suddenly, there had to be something different. Like for example Hermione not loving Ron any more.
Just like Harry didn't love her any more, she thought, biting her lip.
"What are you going to do?" she asked.
He shrugged.
"If you could leave for a while, would you?"
"And do what?"
"I don't know," she sighed. "Haven't you been scouting out to expand into the States?"
"We can't. There's laws preventing us to start a business outside of Britain."
She stood up and walked over to him, patting his shoulder. "I'm sure it will work out." She turned to leave and opened the door. "Try not to do too much damage in the meantime."
That settled it. No definite proof, but enough that deep down in her heart she knew. Harry had something to do with what happened to Ron. Her chest hurt as she thought of what was ahead, because despite everything, despite Harry being involved in this, she still loved him. She looked at her watch, a slender silver thing Harry had gifted her for their one year anniversary. Right on time.
She apparated to the street of row houses and spread her umbrella. Harry's new domain. It became much more obvious why he had chosen to live here. Old Harry would have preferred to live under a bridge. And yet he was still Harry. How much? Her knocking at the door stopped when Kreacher opened it a sliver.
"Mrs. Potter?"
"Hello Kreacher, can I come in?"
"Master Harry is still away."
"I know," she smiled, "but I got here early. You're not going to let me stand in the rain, are you?"
"No. No, of course not, Mistress. Come in, come in."
She stepped inside and followed the elf to the parlour and sat down with her purse on her lap. She took a deep breath. A gamble, and a question. She wanted to be sure that whatever she could salvage wasn't a mirage.
"He's still Harry," she whispered to herself.
Kreacher served her tea. She was hesitant, and cast a poison detection charm just in case. Clear. The warm liquid calmed her nerves. Seven years, five more of a relationship, building stone by stone. Harry from before would forgive her, and love her. He did love her.
There was a crack of apparition and a flurry of purple robes. She stood up and Harry turned around, his eyes like ice water – and they shifted, as he smiled. "Gin? Did I forget about you visiting?"
"Sit down," she said.
Harry took off his Auror robes and hung them. His eyes had turned colder. Good, she didn't want fake Harry right now. She patted the couch next to her, her heart thumping in her chest. He sat down.
"How about before we start you wipe that stupid smile off your face?"
Harry blinked and did not stop smiling. "What do you mean?"
She leaned forward, her brown eyes looking for that – like a pit of arctic water. "I know."
His smile faded, and so did all the other muscles holding up his cheery appearance. She didn't flinch, if she did, he would see it.
"Know what?" he asked.
"That you're not the man I married."
Her eyes flitted to his hand, and his followed, seeing his golden ring. She leaned back. "Nothing to say?"
His eyes went to her chest, then back up. "You're scared of me?"
It wasn't so much a question as an observation. Yes, scared, however… "I might have betrayed this," she said holding up her own wedding band, "but so have you."
He closed his eyes, letting out a deep breath. The first sign of emotion since he'd come in. Emotion, did she still have the power to affect him like that?
"How did you find out?" he asked coolly.
Ginny shook her head and laughed. "Same way I used to find out things about you, I followed you." It hurt, thinking back to it. "That hurt, seeing that."
"When?"
"Your little broom ride, and what happened after."
"You flew hundreds of miles following us?"
"I had to make sure, didn't I? And to get insurance." She tossed a binder on the table.
Harry grimaced as he looked over the pictures and rubbed his forehead. "Insurance?"
She felt emboldened by his reaction. That's why she prepared, to get an answer. She shifted to face him directly. "Well, I didn't want to end up like Ron."
"You don't know what you're talking about," he said tersely.
"But I do know. You're involved. And frankly does it really matter? You don't want those naked pictures out in Witch Weekly don't you? They might censor some of it, but the message will get through. 'Potter and Granger's sordid affair,' something like that." She found herself smiling.
"Ron screwed himself over."
She laughed again. "Somehow I doubt that. Harry, look at me."
He set his jaw and narrowed his eyes. Good, she was getting to him. "If you know what you know, then you're doing something very dangerous," he threatened.
It was impossible, looking in his eyes so familiar, not to feel the loss of him. "Do you lover her?"
A pause and fairy fire in his eyes. "Yes."
It felt worse than she thought. She leaned back in a final manner. "I could say that it's a shame what happened, that I wish we could have had a happy life together. But that's pointless now, I see. You do remember you loved me, right?"
A flicker, not quite recognition, but memory, a confused memory. "Maybe. But not any more."
"You've become sloppy," she said, looking at the pictures on the table. "If you still had the same stalkers as you did when the war ended those would already be in the Prophet. I'll make it easy for you. I've taken precautions so that if anything happens to me, they will be sent to every editor under the sun."
Harry scoffed. "Wonderful. I still don't see what you're getting out of this."
"What did Ron get out of tagging along?" This surprised him, to her delight. "I want in, Harry."
"In? Ginny, after your big speech, you don't think I'm going to continue this marriage, do you?"
"I could force you," she said with a smile. "But I won't. I have no interest in that. No, I want a piece of what you're trying to achieve. I don't want to stand on the sidelines like good Penelope again."
"What do you think that is, what we're trying to achieve?"
"I don't know. But I know it's not as pretty and perfect as you make it seem." She felt cold anger work its way up her oesophagus. "Fred is dead and Draco Malfoy lives in a mansion. You tell me how that's fair."
"You're not asking for fair."
"Neither are you." She stood up and shouldered her purse. "We'll talk again."
"Wait!"
She stilled.
"First, a compromise." He stood in front of her. "We will have an amicable divorce after the election is over. In the meantime, you play along."
"Fine," she said. "Be sure to talk Hermione over to my proposal, or your adventure might come to a close prematurely. Keep the pictures."
-M-
Harry sat, thinking, biting on his thumb, trying to figure out what had just happened. There was confusion deep within him, and near the end he had almost done something irreversible. Ginny had seen what they were, a glance of it, and she had struck back. There were signs, even before. Some selfishness, enough to fuel this. And the comment about Malfoy. Burning steady like a flame, not like his or Hermione's frostbit scorching madness.
That is what it was, and they – he had been complacent. Blackmail. It wasn't. The blackmail was just an excuse. Ron wasn't the only one with insight, which meant that people like Luna, Neville… potentially George, could tell with enough time. A warning shot; a blank.
Harry took deep, long breaths. A bargain with a Weasley. Did he trust her? His instinct wanted to say yes, but maybe that was the shell of his past life talking. He knew what he would tell Hermione. There was no telling what Ginny had in place to protect herself. If she was lying about her intentions, the sky would come falling down soon enough.
She came in later, with a smile on her face. A smile that was wiped off quickly when he told her what had happened.
"Blackmail!" she cried, her hair wildly billowing behind her. "I'll kill her and feed her to Hagrid's pets!"
Harry grabbed her wrist, firmly but gently. "Take it out on me as much as you want, but we can't do that."
"How did we not notice her anyway? God, it's because of that stupid broom ride! I knew I should never have done that!"
"I don't know," he said, slowly, feeling his blood simmer. "Does it matter? You think I'm happy about this? At least she agreed to the divorce!"
She fisted his shirt and bumped him into the nearby bookcase. "Oh, yes! Have your wife sitting in with us, all the while she has a dagger at our throats!" She ripped her hand from him and took a few steps back.
"We're getting what we wanted," he said. "And I don't think she'll rat us out."
"Maybe we should let her," Hermione said, grimacing.
"And throw away that political career we've been working on for months? Then what? Make her disappear? We'll be lucky not to sit in Azkaban the second Ron starts doubting his situation."
"And she some way, somehow has something ready if we go against her? I mean, do you really believe that!"
"Yes, I do", he grunted.
Nervously, she twisted her hand around her finger, her ring finger.
"What?" he said a little too loudly.
"Nothing. God, you're such an idiot sometimes!"
She ran out into the hallway and down two doors to the bedroom. He heard the lock click. Their first fight – as if! He walked purposefully pissed-off to the door and put his full weight into a kick, splintering the doorframe. She stood, defiantly with her back to him, but her eyes couldn't lie.
Losing no momentum, he put his arms around her waist and pinned her on the bed. She fought – slaps, tugging at his arms, scratches. She could've gone for her wand, but didn't. Panting from the excitement and effort, he put his nose to her ear.
"You're being a bit too obvious," he said, laughter in his breath. "Not a great idea going for the bedroom if you want to get away from me."
She stilled, her eyes looking back at him with playful scorn.
"I like us being angry, but only sometimes," he said, kissing her cheek. "Are you okay? I mean I know you're not okay with what's happening, but..."
She turned around, pulling Harry's head to her chest. "I don't know. You trust what she says? That she's going to let us be if we help her out, whatever that means?"
"She could've sent the pictures, if she really wanted to hurt us. She didn't even have to reveal she did it." Harry relaxed, feeling her warmth and the softness of her breasts. "If she's being honest, it could be a good thing. I only trust you, but we can't survive alone. We need an accomplice, someone to smooth things out when it goes wrong – and it did go wrong. Someone who knows our friends."
"I wish it could just be us," she said, running her hands through his hair, soothing him into a blissful torpor.
"Maybe some day," he answered. He ran his hand up and down her leg, then higher to her groin and stomach. "You are wearing entirely too much clothes."
In a way what had happened was a boon. One less thing to consciously worry about. The quaffle being in Ginny's hands meant they could focus on other things. They dressed in comfortable clothes, some study, dinner and some relaxation would happen. He was still processing, and every second that went by the worry of Ginny became lesser.
"She almost said it," he started, half doubting if he should continue on the subject, "that she wanted to hurt Malfoy."
"So what?" Hermione sighed, turning a page of her book. "There's not a shortage of people wanting to hurt his family."
"And if anyone came out and said it, it would at best get them in hot waters, or cause chaos. We don't want that. I can trust Mathilda for the same reasons, and with some more time, Alfred too. They hate what happened after the war. How we have criminals alive in Azkaban and silent accomplices still in government. And they can't say a damn thing."
"Yes, that's true. But you can't put up a giant sign in Diagon Alley saying 'kill the traitors'. How do you expect to turn this to your advantage?"
He shuffled closer to her in the velvet couch, his breath a whisper. "We already have. Surround yourself with enough like-minded people and you won't need to advertise it. It's the company you keep."
She said nothing to that, opting to pout instead. It was a good sign that while she disliked it immensely, she didn't disagree with him.
He had evening shifts the week after. A bad thing, because he would only see Hermione in the mornings. A good thing because her birthday was coming up, and he needed alone time to come up with something.
Alchemical reference texts helped, but the 'Liber Agape' still proved very mysterious. He did feel some affinity with it, in a roundabout way similarly to how he had appreciated the Half-Blood Prince's notes. It was by coincidence perhaps that with the right runic translation and correct reference texts, he could make out something truly beautiful. A fitting gift, just as selfish as it was selfless.
'Amor ad Nihilum,' a better offering than he could have ever imagined. With it, all doubt would cease, either holding the key to the other's demise. And he was so close to figuring out the details of the spell.
AN: Hence, my warning. Ginny has her own motives. If she feels like a two-dimensional character in canon, that's not what I'm aiming for. Same for Ron. If you think this is the final point of their story, it isn't. Next chapter is a big one, in a way. Thank you for reading.
