30 December 2001
The moment Harry saw Ginny as she exited the Room of Requirement, he knew he had done the right thing in encouraging her to look at the Mirror of Erised. Some of the ragged despair had left her face, and because of this, his step was light as they walked back to his rooms.
Except that three times he had to stop himself from grasping her hand. No, Harry, she wouldn't appreciate that just now, he told himself sternly. Belatedly, he reminded himself that it probably wouldn't do for a professor to blatantly hold a student's hand. Not that it would stop him with Ginny... just in public...
"Do you really think it could be a goal?"
Ginny's voice jerked him out of his (admittedly tame) fantasies, and he was surprised to realize they were already at their destination. He opened the door for her, and she walked by. His stomach took a dive when she brushed against him.
"As long as it's physically possible, I don't see why not," said Harry. He sat down on the arm of the sofa while she shuffled in the center of the room, looking about a hundred miles away. Harry understood. It was a disconcerting feeling, being confronted with one's greatest desire... and then realizing that it might, just might, be attainable.
There was something slightly different in the way she watched him. He wasn't certain she was entirely aware of it, but she gazed at him frankly. Desire, never far from the surface when he was near her, kindled in his belly. And when she licked her lips, it almost undid him.
"Do you - let's say if it was physically possible," she said tentatively. "Do you think I could do it?"
Harry didn't even have to think about it. It amazed him that she still didn't know how strong she was. "I think you can do anything if you want it badly enough. Look at what you've already done."
She hooked her hair behind her ears, and his gaze was drawn to the vivid red that shone like fire. The temperature of the room raised by about ten degrees. I hope I'm not the only one feeling this, he thought. He wanted to reach out and hug her, maybe even kiss her - all right, he definitely wanted to kiss her. But the last thing he wanted to do was move too fast (or at all, if she didn't share his feelings).
"Can - do you want to tell me what you saw?" he asked. I hope you saw me. But even if she didn't, that was all right. If she just saw herself with her family, that would make him happy. He didn't want her to wake up every day missing so many people. Still. There was a limit to his selflessness, and he wanted her to want him.
She shrugged and, face scrunching up, moved a little closer. Almost close enough to touch. "This," she said, in a shaky voice. She flushed bright red. "I'm sorry."
For one, dizzying moment he had no clue what she was about. Why is she sorry? Her touch was feather light on his shoulders; her hands were very warm. Harry sucked in a breath as her face moved closer and closer. Her eyes flickered closed and he could almost count her eyelashes. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion... their breath mingled together for what seemed like an eternity...
And then she kissed him.
It didn't last nearly as long as Harry wanted. He didn't even get a chance to return the kiss and she was already pulling away. No. He caught her elbows and cupped them in his hands. Her fingers convulsed, twisting his robes, and her breathing quickened. Harry gave her enough time to continue backing away, but when she didn't move, he pulled her closer until their bodies almost touched. Yes. Thank you.
He pressed his lips to hers, every nerve ending on high alert. The calm, rational, and swiftly disappearing part of him warned him to be gentle and not to scare her. It went quiet when she wound her arms around his neck and he wrapped his around her waist. Blood thundered through his veins and he contemplated coaxing her to open her mouth and-
It took several seconds for Harry to realize that the knocking sound came from the door, and it was with great reluctance that he pulled away. Ginny stepped back at the same moment. Who the hell is that? he thought, highly irritated with the intrusion.
It was Professor McGonagall. Do they have some sort of spell that alerts them when professors kiss students? he asked himself, feeling far more annoyed than guilty. Ginny busied herself with Arnold and Calliope. This was particularly quick thinking, he thought.
"Er," he said, ruffling his hair.
"Bellatrix and Rabastan Lestrange are dead," she announced.
Harry was so prepared to be either fired or reprimanded, that it was not until he heard Ginny gasp that her words really sunk in. Voldemort's best lieutenant was dead, along with her brother-in-law. The woman who had murdered her own cousin, Harry's godfather. Glancing sidelong at Ginny, who had her hand over her mouth, he tried to gauge his own reaction along with hers.
The only thing he felt was happiness with a very sharp edge. It was almost a given that the Lestranges had something to do with Ginny's capture and torture. They were at least damned with knowing about it and thinking it completely all right to torture a young girl. Harry sort of wished that he'd killed her himself, and felt a fierce pride when he saw the same desire in her face. It's hard to be a bloodthirsty victim.
"That's really great," he said enthusiastically. McGonagall blinked at him. But the relief at her not knowing what had just happened combined with the news that two prominent Death Eaters were no longer alive made him a bit more expressive than normal. Plus, it wasn't like he could pretend to be sad about it.
"Yeah, it is," Ginny agreed. "How did it happen?"
"The evidence is inconclusive," McGonagall said, sitting down on the sofa. I just kissed Ginny just a foot away from there."But they believe it was some sort of riot. Another prisoner, perhaps. There was no sign that it was done magically."
Harry let out a low whistle. That took a special kind of hatred. But of all the prisoners in Azkaban, he thought that Bellatrix and Rabastan would be the least likely to win any popularity contests. "I can't say I'm surprised," he admitted.
"Only that it didn't happen years ago," added Ginny.
Harry wondered if she knew or somehow guessed how badly he'd wanted to go after all the Death Eaters who might have had a hand in her suffering. But the blind rage he'd felt immediately following his discovery of her under the table and Voldemort's ultimate defeat had not stayed with him long. He looked at her again, but she was staring determinedly at McGonagall.
Once he realized he was staring at her mouth, he gave his head a surreptitious shake. Not in front of McGonagall! "And does the Order know anything? Or Kingsley?"
"Oh, now you've remembered the Order of the Phoenix, have you?" McGonagall asked tartly.
Harry flushed, and felt a surge of guilt that had nothing to do with Ginny, who induced more pleasure than guilt. For long moments, he couldn't think of anything to say. Just say something, he told himself.
"I'm sure Harry remembers the Order of the Phoenix," Ginny said calmly. She had her head bowed, and was pushing a ball of parchment around with her toe, much to Arnold's delight. Harry recognized the signs of retreat, and knew she was starting to feel a bit overwhelmed by memories of Malfoy Manor.
"I know he does," McGonagall said. Something in her voice had softened. "I suppose that we've forgotten that he remembers."
Harry wanted McGonagall to leave for several reasons. The subject of talking to friends and reestablishing connections seemed more raw when she hinted at it. Having it brought up made it seem too real and immediate. It already seemed imminent enough, as he could still feel Ginny's lips against his. And that's the major reason why I want her to leave, Harry admitted to himself. He wanted to kiss her again.
"Well," McGonagall stood up, brushing off her robes. "I thought the two of you ought to know."
"Thanks," said Harry, hoping this was a sign that she was leaving. "I appreciate it. I really do."
She nodded her head sharply. "Well, goodnight then, I'll leave you two-"
"I'm ready to call it a night myself," Ginny said quickly.
No!
Harry gaped at her, disappointed. It took him several seconds to school his features into a (hopefully) less revealing expression. Ginny only gave him the most fleeting of glances, before she followed the other professor to the door. "Can I have Calliope for the night?" he asked grumpily. He couldn't believe she was leaving.
"Of course," she said, scooping up Arnold and placing him in his bag.
McGonagall stared down at the pygmy puff, a small smile hovering on her lips. Even through his annoyance, Harry understood. Calliope was exceedingly cute, though sympathy for poor, besotted Arnold's plight surged through him. Calliope had thus far refused the other pygmy puff's advances, and though their situation wasn't quite the same - she kissed me first! - he really felt for Arnold.
Ginny met his eyes briefly as she left, and her mouth quirked into a grimace and she shrugged a shoulder. And then she was gone.
Harry stared at the door, then picked up Calliope and brought her up so he could look directly into her bright purple eyes. "You females are a lot of trouble," he told her. He fought the instinct to go after her. But what was he going to do? Force her to come back to his rooms where he could kiss her? What if she didn't want him to?
He threw himself down on the ugly sofa while Calliope clung onto his shirt for dear life. "Sorry," he muttered. Even saying that word made him think of Ginny and how she had apologized before kissing him. She kissed me! Closing his eyes, he relived it. His imagination didn't even get to the part when she licked her lips before his arousal came back so swiftly it was almost painful.
His robes were on the floor along with his trousers and shirt by the time he remembered he had an audience. "Don't watch," he warned Calliope, who blinked up at him. And then he closed his eyes and watched Ginny kiss him over and over again. He stroked himself the way he thought she would: gentle, but sure. Instead of trying to get it done as quickly as possible, he tried to draw out the sensation for as long as he could, imagining that it was Ginny's hand wrapped around him. He could still feel her lips on his, and he groaned her name as he finished.
He cracked his eyes open, still taking deep, shuddering breaths, to find Calliope less than an inch away from his face, staring at him with wide eyes. This made him slightly uncomfortable, as though he'd just done something obscene. "I couldn't help it," he said defensively. If he didn't wank, he'd never be able to be around Ginny without exploding. "Besides," he added, when her scrutiny didn't waver. "I told you not to watch."
Once he cleaned up and found a clean pair of pajama pants in his bedroom (not a simple task), Harry summoned Kreacher to ask for a cup of tea. He blew on it and took a tentative sip, and walked over to the window to look out into the night. Now that the pressure was gone, he was able to fully realize how happy her kiss had made him. He wasn't even all that irritated anymore that she ran away. He'd go after her tomorrow morning
HPHPHPHPHPHPHP
30 December 2001 - 31 December 2001
Ginny paced her room, extremely grateful for the absence of Demelza and Emma. The events of the day filled her up, and she felt swollen with it. The Mirror of Erised had inspired hope in her where before she'd been barren of it. Bellatrix Lestrange was dead. Ginny didn't have to worry about what her eyes had seen - Bellatrix wouldn't see anything anymore. Savage delight had joined hope.
And of course, Harry had kissed her. She'd kissed him first, but his response had been so wonderful that Ginny had pinched herself to be certain she was awake. She lightly touched her fingers to her lips. Already she wanted to kiss him again. But McGonagall's sudden arrival had rattled her.
It was - the whole day had been... Ginny didn't even have the words to describe it. But she felt as though she'd been out in a snowstorm and freezing, and then she'd come inside to stand beside a blazing hearth. The sudden warmth burned. The feel of Harry's arms around her and his mouth on hers felt so good that it hurt.
"Arnold, guess what," she whispered. Arnold, who was lounging on the bed, staring at the ceiling, peeped disinterestedly. She ignored this. "Harry kissed me!" It embarrassed her to even say it out loud, especially given the fact that her voice was breathy and giddy and she sounded about thirteen years old. Ignoring the way her heart felt like it was trying to beat out of her chest, she sat down cross-legged on the bed and stroked Arnold's fur. She had to admit that his disappointment in the romance department was not high on her list of things to think about.
Another surge of energy pulsed through her and sent her off her bed. She paced for a while longer, just letting the thoughts run through her.
I have to go to bed, she told herself finally. It was very late (or very early), and she had to sleep at some point. Feeling slightly nervous, she withdrew the blue nightgown Fleur had given her and spread it out on the bed, staring at it critically. Arnold even perked up a bit and came to investigate and was soon rolling around with abandon on the soft material.
It is quite lovely, she thought. But it was too much, wasn't it? There was lace over the breasts, and it seemed small enough that it might hug her hips. Once she found herself actually stroking it, she almost reluctantly replaced it and brought out her normal nightgown.
Arnold retreated to the opposite side of the bed and lay down with his back to her.
"There's no need to be huffy and puffy," she told him.
Ten minutes later she was under the covers and yet dead certain that she wouldn't be able to sleep. Harry and her family chased each other in her thoughts. Harry had kissed her. She wanted the vision she'd seen in the Mirror of Erised to be a reality. The night waned and her mind replayed the kiss again and again and intermixed with that, she kept seeing her father tug gently on her hair.
And she gradually became accustomed enough to the warmth that she fell asleep, sky already lightening in the east.
The afternoon sun spilled onto her bed, finally waking her up. She sat up, rubbing blearily at her eyes. It took a moment for her to remember why she was happy. Her stomach flip-flopped mid-yawn.
How am I - how is this going to work?
They'd already established a routine. Ginny would wake up, eat, then go pick him up at his private quarters and they would go for a fly. Then they would return to the castle for lunch and then either play games or talk. Eventually, she would leave to go to bed, and then the cycle would start all over again.
But she didn't know how it was going to work now. Should she just go to his room again? Should she mention it right away (not likely), pretend it never happened (she hoped not), or just kiss him again? What would he do when she saw him? Would he say or do anything? Or had he kissed so many girls that one more wouldn't really matter?
Her stomach growled, piercing through the cloud of anxiety, and making her aware that it had been far too long since her last meal. She was a Weasley, after all; starvation was not their strong suit, and it had been almost a day since her steak-and-kidney pie.
She rushed through her wash and, hurriedly dressing, she scooped up Arnold and trotted out the dorm, climbed through the portrait hole, and walked very quickly down to the kitchens. The house-elves like me, she told herself. I'm not hiding from Harry. I'm just waiting until I decide what to do. It wasn't as though she was frightened of seeing him. She was excited and anxious, but she didn't want to act completely giddy in front of him.
I'm not thirteen years old anymore, she told herself firmly. Ginny was older and the feelings she had for him weren't that of a little girl's and she didn't want him to think that for one instant. If she started giggling...
Ginny didn't notice Harry until she almost walked right into him.
"Ginny!" he said, gaping at her. He looked as surprised to see her as she was him, and he stood up from the table immediately.
"Hi, Harry," she said, hating that she blushed. Glancing away, she noticed that he had the Marauder's Map lying on the table, closed. Relieved to find a safe topic, she pointed at it. "Using the Map, then?"
"Yeah," said Harry, while Ginny cursed herself for being stupid. "It was a really great gift. I love having it back again."
"That's good," she said. Her stomach rumbled again and she grimaced.
"The house elves are - well, they're making you food now," he said awkwardly, ruffling his hair. He had them make food for me? Ginny looked up at him, smiling. Some of the awkwardness had faded, though the excitement and growing anticipation was almost as bad. His eyes searched her face, and something in his seemed to relax.
Her face heated up but she maintained eye contact just as she felt his fingertips brush the top of her arm. His head was coming closer and-
"Your food, Professor Potter!" said an excessively cheerful, annoying voice. And even though the small house-elf carried a full platter of delicious looking food, Ginny wanted to hex her.
"Thanks," Harry said grudgingly.
The moment was lost.
Maybe there is actually some sort of enchantment on Hogwarts that prevents kissing, Ginny thought. Professor McGonagall's untimely interruption last night had immediately caused her to think along these lines. Perhaps it was irrational of her, but Ginny found herself slightly irritated with Hermione. She shared everything else about Hogwarts, and still liked to recite facts from Hogwarts: A History at the dinner table. The least she could do was share something interesting. And useful. It's not like Hermione could have known that Harry would be your professor and would want to kiss you, a small voice pointed out fairly.
She ate quickly, and was mostly quiet, while Harry gave Arnold a pep talk.
"She'll come around, mate," he said comfortingly. Ginny hid a grin at Calliope's continued rebuffing of Arnold, much to his dismay. His little dance had grown even more elaborate in the last few days, but the harder he tried, the more she turned away. "Girls do maddening things sometimes."
Ginny couldn't help but feel this was a remark aimed in her direction, though she couldn't really be sure. She watched him surreptitiously and, even though he was attempting to bolster Arnold's flagging self-esteem, he kept stealing glances at her. Every time he did, her skin tingled. Hogwarts has too many house-elves, she decided.
"Do you want to go on a walk?" she asked.
"Yes," he said automatically. He got up so fast that he almost knocked over the bench. Ginny swallowed the last of her pumpkin juice, while he eyed her. "I suppose you'll have to go up and get a cloak," he said. "Although..." he drew his wand, pointed it at her, and muttered something under his breath. "A warming charm," he explained. "You won't feel it-"
"-until I'm outside where it's really cold," she continued for him, nodding. "I don't have their bag, though, so I'll have to go get that. It's too cold outside for pygmy puffs."
"Hey," he said. "Why don't we leave them in my quarters? That way they can run around and be warm and Arnold can keep trying to woo her?"
"All right," she shrugged. They'll be happier there, she assured herself. And there's not much trouble they can get into. But as they walked down the corridor, the pygmy puffs drifted from her mind, to be replaced by thoughts that were more sensations. They brushed up against each other often, and Ginny wanted to reach out and grip his hand.
But every time she nearly surrendered to the impulse, she heard someone's voice coming from down the hall, or saw a flash of someone else's robes. These served as reminders to the fact that they weren't alone; Hogwarts was not completely deserted, and it wouldn't be good for someone to see.
Arnold and Calliope were safely ensconced in Harry's sitting room and they were nearly to the doors of the Great Hall when Ginny broke the silence. "How did you know that I would be hungry?" she asked.
He glanced at her. "You're a Weasley," he pointed out. Then he shrugged. "I saw your dot finally move"-he patted the pocket in his robes that held the Marauder's Map-"and thought you'd appreciate not having to wait long for your breakfast."
"Thanks," she said quietly. The image of him, watching her dot on the Marauder's Map, soothed some of the giddiness and anxiety.
They wandered down to the lake. Ginny's heartbeat increased as they drew further and further away from prying eyes. It was December and frigid; Ginny was slightly chilled even with Harry's spell. More than that, there was little chance of anyone meeting them.
"It's my turn, isn't it?" he asked suddenly, as soon as they rounded one final corner. And he grabbed her hand. His palm was warm and slightly damp, as if he might be a little nervous too. She squeezed a little, and he squeezed back.
Their steps slowed to a halt. Ginny wanted to say something, but she couldn't really focus on just one thing. Other than that the happiness was almost overwhelming again.
"It's a new year tomorrow," Harry said. Ginny glanced at him out the corner of her eye; he was staring out over the water. "I have no idea what I did on the last day of last year. Or the first day of this year." He lightly stroked her palm with his thumb. She moved closer, resting her cheek against his upper arm. "All the days pretty much ran together. I ate, I slept, Kreacher bullied me, I avoided people. Sometimes I mixed it up and did the same thing in different countries."
Ginny felt a pang at how lonely that must have been. She stroked his arm. "I hope it isn't - I hope it's better for you now."
"Yeah," he said. "It is. Because of you."
Ginny jerked her head back and stared at him. He was looking at her again, and his other hand came up to grasp hers. It seemed almost unreal to her that she had helped him the way he was a comfort to her.
"I remember specific days now," he said, shrugging a little. "Like when you let me babysit Arnold while you played Quidditch, or the first time we flew together, or when you helped me up to the hospital wing." He paused, and shifted a little, pulling her with him, until they stood face to face, hands still entwined.
Ginny wanted to tell him what his words meant to her, but couldn't seem to force herself to speak.
"You made me really happy yesterday," he admitted.
"Me too," she blurted out through the thickness in her throat. "I mean - I - you made me happy too. It felt like - like someone else's life."
"I know the feeling," he said. Slowly, he moved his body so that he was lower on the gentle incline, and his face was suddenly quite close. "Want to explore those other lives a bit more?"
Ginny was chuckling when he kissed her. "Nineteen," he said against her mouth. What does-?
But her thought was cut off when Harry let go of her hands and threaded his fingers through her hair. She lost herself in the sensations, and she had no idea how long it lasted. Just that when he finally pulled away and buried his head against her shoulder, enfolding her in a tight hug, they were both breathing heavily, and days might have gone by.
"I like these other people," she said finally. "We should pretend to be them more often."
"A lot," he nodded, lifting his head and giving her another kiss. "Though we might have to still pretend to be professor and student during class."
HPHPHPHPHPHP
31 December 2001
Percy Weasley just happened to be in the kitchen when the family clock was almost blown to bits due to his mother's wrath. He understood a little that seeing Ginny's hand move from 'Malfoy Manor' to 'At School' would so enrage her, but still. When her eyes flashed at it and her wand came up, he knocked her arm so the Blasting Hex hit a shelf of plates instead.
She stared at him, breathing hard. "Don't you - how dare-?"
But Percy realized that he wanted the clock to remain intact. Rather desperately, in fact. He examined his feelings and knew without a doubt that it would hurt him - and everyone else - quite badly if the clock was blown up like half the trees in the orchard.
"Please don't destroy it, Mum," he said quietly.
Her face had a pinched, desperately unhappy look on it. It hadn't changed since Christmas day, when Ginny had finally told them a measure of the truth. "It isn't real, anyway," she snarled. "Look at it. LOOK AT IT!" He did. "All this term... for six months almost, that damn clock has been lying to me."
"But-"
"How dare you stop me," she hissed. Percy took a step back, suddenly wishing that some of the others were here. "Weren't you the one who orchestrated-"
"Those were Death Eaters," he said. He tried to remain calm, but the grief and rage in his mother's face was almost too much to bear. "This is - it's family. I don't-"
"YOU'RE A FINE ONE TO TALK ABOUT FAMILY!" she screamed at him and poked him hard in the chest. "Weren't you the one who left us?"
Percy recoiled as though she had struck him. She'd never, ever brought that up. Never thrown it in his face. And he knew that under normal circumstances, she never would have said anything like it, no matter how much he deserved it. But this appears to be the week for painful honesty. The urge to leave rose up in him. "I'm-"
But then she put her hands over her face and began to cry. "I didn't mean it, Percy, dear, I know you love us," she sobbed. "I'm just - I can't even look at it. I haven't even glanced at it this week."
He walked over and put his arms around her, patting her back. It felt a little awkward. Not because of the physical affection, but because he had absolutely no idea how to comfort her.
"I resented her a little," she confessed after several minutes of silent hugging and crying. "Maybe more than a little. I just wanted her to come home, you see."
"I think we all did," Percy murmured.
"I had no idea," she said. "I just keep thinking - what if she - she didn't know? What if she thought it was really him?"
The dinner he'd eaten churned in his stomach, and he drew in a deep breath, reaching up and adjusting his glasses. It was a horrible thought. He didn't even want to imagine it. Didn't want to know how far Lucius Malfoy had taken his sickening masquerade. It seemed silly of him to want to believe that Ginny had always known their father wouldn't do that to her, but he couldn't help it.
"The clock-" he began.
She pulled away, mopping at her eyes. "It lies," she said flatly. "How can she possibly come back from that? If you don't want me to destroy it, then take it out of my sight."
Percy obeyed. Perhaps it was because of Ginny's experience, or his mother's complete hopelessness, or maybe even his own abandonment of the family, but he couldn't stand by and watch a Weasley family heirloom be destroyed.