Redemption

Chapter Seven

Harry was stirring. Ginny sat back on her bed, the wands in the her hand, and watched him as he sat up, rubbing his temples. He looked up, searching for her, and when he saw her he leapt up and backed across the room into the wall. For a few seconds, he stared at her, his back pressed against her flowery wallpaper.

"I cannot believe you did that, Ginny," he said quietly, shaking his head.

"It was necessary. At least you know I'm serious now," she replied.

Harry's expression suggested that he definitely believed that.

"So what now, Ginny? You're going to keep me captive up here? I can't tell you what I don't know."

She stood up, and raised the wands again.

"But you do know, Harry. I heard you talking with Ron, and you know a lot more than you're letting on. If this is going to effect me so completely, I want to know exactly why you seem to think that I could die. Why you think Reg would want to kill me."

"It's not Reg," Harry snapped. "He's been possessed." He watched her reaction.

"By what?"

"That bit I genuinely don't know," Harry shrugged. "All I know is that whenever I get anywhere near you, it comes. It comes after you - not me, you. I don't know why, I don't know how it knows, but I do know that you will die if it touches you."

She frowned. "Harry, clearly, by my still being alive, it has never touched me. How do you know that that's what's going to happen."

"I don't, I guess," Harry sighed. "But it's a feeling I have. An instinct. You know me, Ginny," he added, looking directly into her eyes, "my instincts are normally correct. I've learnt to trust them."

Ginny watched him for a good few seconds. Eventually, she lowered the wand.

"Is that why you left?"

Harry nodded, slowly. "Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me, Harry, why didn't you include me? Did Ron know?"

"Yes."

She spluttered. She felt something molten hot forcing its way up her throat, and realised she was on the verge of tears. That just made her angrier.

"Why didn't you tell me?" she asked again. "Why?"

Harry couldn't see her cry. It couldn't happen. But he looked at her, and even though her face was dry she could see that he knew her insides were squirming.

"Because I didn't want to hurt you, or get you hurt. Ginny... I loved you."

She swallowed heavily. Before she could stop him, or stop herself, Harry crossed the room in two broad strides and pulled her to him, wrapping his arms around her. She couldn't hold it in any more. Memories from the childhood with Harry were screaming inside her, thoughts of how close they had once been, and most powerful of all, a deep wrenching feeling of despair the likes of which she hadn't felt since Harry's first departure. And on top of that, she was going to die.

Furious with herself, she struggled out of Harry's tight grip and stumbled backwards. Perfectly aware that her face was stinging and blotchy from tears, she looked up at Harry. Then threw her weight behind her fist and swung at him.

He leapt back, dodging her throw narrowly, and grabbed her again, pinning her arms to her sides.

"Why didn't you tell me!" she yelled, wriggling. "I could have helped!"

"No, no you couldn't!" he retorted, forcing her down onto the bed. He stroked her back softly. "You could have got yourself killed. I couldn't take that risk."

"You hurt me, Harry. When you left you really hurt me."

Tucking a stray piece of cinnamon hair back behind her ear, he smiled. "I know, Ginny. And I am so sorry. But I still think that it was the right thing to do."

Ginny swiped his hand away from her back, panting.

Harry's eyes were searching her face softly.

"What?"

"You never let yourself feel, Ginny. You not?"

"You're one to lecture, Harry."

"Why not? Because it hurts less that way?"

"Yes! Yes, because I'm weak, I can't feel things without them hurting me, so I don't, alright!" Ginny glared at him. "Look at me, Harry. I haven't cried in years, and then you turn up, all of a sudden, and I'm in floods. You make me angry, Harry, you make me weak!"

"That's not being weak, Ginny, that's being human." He lent down and kissed her on the forehead. "Ginny..."

She looked up. "Yeah?"

"Did you ever think that the reason I make you angry is because you won't let me make you happy?"

Ginny smiled. "Your ego protected to the last, eh, Harry?" She rubbed her eyes. Meanwhile, Harry had dropped to his knees before her and was looking up at her through her fringe.

"I was never arrogant, my ego was never what was guiding me, Gin. I thought it was easier for you if I was crass and big-headed - if you liked me less then my leaving wouldn't hurt so much."

She snorted. "Well that worked out well," she laughed.

"Yeah, not so much," Harry replied, grinning, and pushing her hair out of her eyes. "I missed you, Ginny."

"Careful, you get too close and I could die, remember?" Ginny joked, but there was a note of genuine worry there.

"The... demon, I guess, that possesses Reggie can only be passed on through skin to skin contact. Reggie's out cold, and locked in the cupboard under the stairs. Ron's guarding him."

"My big brother is guarding your demon while you're up here wooing his little sister. That doesn't sound like Ron to me," Ginny smiled.

Harry, though, was serious. "You always do that, Ginny. Make jokes when things get hard."

She raised an eyebrow.

"See! You did it then!"

"Well... you know what I'm like with six brothers. Not my fault that that's all that springs to mind when you talk about thing's getting hard."

"I meant difficult."

"Oh, I know exactly what you meant, Harry." Ginny laughed again. She looked down into Harry's face. Gently she lifted a hand and traced the lightening scar etched into his forehead with her finger. "I knew you couldn't be so callous, Harry. I knew when you bragged about your scars. For years you hated this thing," she said, caressing the shape. "You'd feel the same about any more you got." Tearing her eyes away from the bolt of light, she noticed that Harry was looking at her with more intensity than she could remember him ever doing before.

Moving in a sort of daze, Ginny's hands slid downwards towards the hem of his T-shirt and slipped underneath. Her fingers trailed across his stomach, and it twitched involuntarily. Harry let out a pant near her collar bone, and she felt heat flood her stomach and spread outwards as she felt the breath across her skin.

Ron peered through a crack between the panels on the cupboard door. He could just make out the shape of Reggie, unconscious, through the darkness inside.

He wandered through to the kitchen and plonked a kettle on top of the shove, then waved his wand at it. Staring determinedly at the steam soon billowing jovially from the funnel, he tried to ignore the faintly sickened sensation in his stomach at the thought of what could have happened to Ginny had Harry not arrived in time.

He and Harry had been waiting for this to happen since Harry had returned. Of course, they had not told Ginny, but they'd been in contact for years. Hermione too had known Harry was considering returning to the Burrow after his time away, but she had warned that this brand of magic was unlikely to just wear off over time. She was always right - though the thought gave him no comfort in this instance.

As if summoned solely by his thoughts, the back door leading into the kitchen swung open and Hermione rushed in.

"Ronald Weasley! I told you something like this would happen!" she stood with her hands on her hips, glaring at him.

"Ginny and Harry are both fine, thanks for asking, they're upstairs, and Reggie's locked in the cupboard under the stairs."

"Oooh, they're upstairs?" she repeated, looking at him. "D'you think they're--"

"'Mione! I don't want to think about that, thanks!"

"Reggie's locked in the cupboard under the stairs?"

Ron smirked. "I see your grasp of prioritising has improved."

"This is not a joking matter, Ron!"

Ron laughed. "We've dealt with worse than this in the past, Herms, and we've always come through--"

Just then, there was a great scratching crash from the hall way, and they froze. Ron glanced down at his wife, who had whirled around to look in the direction of the door to the hall. They both drew their wands, slowly, from their pockets, and moved tentively towards the source of the noise. Ron's throat felt like it had swelled to twice it's normal size, and his chest was hammering madly. Pushing his arm out to shield Hermione, Ron peered around the corner into the hall way.

The door to the cupboard under the stairs was hanging off one of its hinges, and was completely empty.

"Shit!" he yelled.

"Language, Ron," Hermione muttered numbly, staring at the empty space.

That's it for another time then - sorry, but I'm back at college now and that alway's makes updating... erratic, to say the least. But hey, I'll try my best. Comments greatly appreciated though.