A/N: I planned to get this posted as soon as all the quarantine stuff got serious here in the US, but I ended up being busier than expected getting my own work from home life set up. I'm good to go now, and not really going anywhere, so my plan is to try to write and post fairly regularly, even if the chapters are shorter. Stay safe and healthy, wherever you are!
The rest of the weekend was hell for Ginny. She hadn't wanted to leave Harry, nearly passed out on his sofa Friday night, but staying there in his flat felt almost as wrong. It almost felt like she was trespassing, or spying, despite the fact that Ron and Hermione were there too and promised to check up on him throughout the night. If she'd stayed, and Harry happened to wake in the middle of the night she couldn't trust that she wouldn't blurt everything out or burst into tears. Or both. Instead she went back to her flat to sleep but of course she didn't. She paced around her apartment, lay down in her bed, got up from her bed, even took a thoroughly unneeded shower, and all the time, her thoughts were swirling around as if a bunch of Cornish Pixies had gotten hold of them and were flying about inside her head. In her more rational moments – and there were few of those – Ginny told herself that of course they'd be able to fix things. Camilla or someone would know immediately how to perform the counter-charm, Harry would remember he loved her again, and maybe they'd even have a good laugh about it. How could there not be a simple solution? But far more often, as she paced and sat and finally cried, Ginny couldn't shake the feeling that whatever had been done to Harry was a lot more serious than she or Ron or Hermione imagined. It was too carefully targeted, and too well thought out and precisely implemented to have been done by someone without considerable magical knowledge, and that meant the untangling the spell was likely to be difficult, assuming it was possible at all.
A thought struck Ginny suddenly, and she almost went running back down the hallway from her shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel. She stopped only long enough to pull on pajamas and a robe; her wet hair left drops of water on the carpet as she stood in front of the door to Harry and Ron's flat, knocking firmly and hoping it only alerted Ron and didn't wake up Harry. Ron opened the door almost immediately, and Ginny could tell that he and Hermione hadn't been any more successful at sleeping than she had. There was a plate of biscuits and a pot of coffee on the table but neither looked like it had been touched; both Ron and Hermione were wrapped in blankets and had apparently been sitting together on the loveseat across from the sofa where Harry was still fast asleep. Hermione stood up as Ginny came in.
"I know something we missed," she blurted out before Ron had even shut the door behind her. "I was so shocked, I didn't even consider it." Her eyes strayed back to Harry; his mouth was slightly open and his face completely relaxed as he slept. Inexplicably, Ginny thought of the last time she'd watched Harry sleep. They'd been together in her bed and she'd been far more interested in the way a sunbeam had lit up another part of Harry's anatomy than she'd been with his face. But now she watched his mouth, his lips, as they moved softly as he breathed, and she couldn't look away.
"What, Ginny?" Ron pulled her out of the moment and she looked at her brother, trying to clear her thoughts. She forced her glance away from Harry's mouth.
"Uhh, what we didn't think about," she said. "It has to have been someone who knew," she said. "Knew about me and Harry." She stopped talking to let that information sink in.
"You don't think . . . not someone in your family?" asked Hermione. She looked doubtful. Ginny shook her head.
"I know Fred and George want to get back at us," she said. "But they wouldn't do anything like this. I'm not sure they could – this was a really tricky memory charm." By the looks on Ron and Hermione's faces, Ginny knew she wasn't the only one to have come to the conclusion that only someone really adept at this sort of magic could have performed such a precise charm and had it hold as well as it did. Ginny hated to ask, but she knew she had to. "You don't think . . . I mean, could Dam be behind it? I know Harry says he'd not very adept at magic, but . . . what if it's not true? What if it's an act?"
Ron shook his head immediately. "It can't be Dam," he said. "I talked to Harry about it when I first moved in because I couldn't believe someone that good at Quidditch could be so . . ."
"Poor at magic?" asked Ginny.
Ron nodded. "I know the skill and talent needed to play is mostly different than what's needed for spells and things, but there is some overlap. I mean, you have to have a decent amount of magical ability just to stay on a broom. But Harry told me that Dam had been thoroughly investigated – like all professional Quidditch players are; maybe even more. He was homeschooled, remember? Robards was particularly interested in him, apparently. Not because he'd been taught anything dangerous or dark, but because his parents didn't seem to teach him much at all, apart from how to play Quidditch. Robards thought that maybe all of Dam's latent magical ability had been focused into his flying and playing skills and that's why he's so good. Kane checked him out too, looking for any evidence of dark magic hiding his true power, and couldn't find anything." Ron grimaced. "And you know how thorough Kane can be about that stuff." He yawned widely, then leaned towards the table to pick up one of the mugs of steaming coffee.
Hearing Ron explain it that way and watching him take a drink made something click for Ginny. She watched her brother swallow in horror and fought the urge to swat the mug out of his hand. "Don't drink any more!" she cried instead.
Ron looked at her curiously and then down at the coffee. "What's wrong with . . ." he stared at her, understanding dawning. "It's Kane," he said flatly. It wasn't a question.
"How much did you drink?" asked Ginny shakily. And had Hermione? She didn't think she could handle it if the two of them somehow forgot her too. Although if they had the coffee, it might be easier to figure out an antidote; Ginny would just have to find someone to help her, if Ron and Hermione wouldn't. But Ron shook his head.
"This isn't from that bag," he said. "There were only enough beans for one big pot and I made it this morning. Hermione and I each had a cup and I left the rest for you and Harry – there was plenty. Didn't you get any?"
Ginny was so relieved that Ron's memory was intact that she didn't focus on the meaning of what Ron was saying. She shook her head. "There wasn't any left when I got up, she said.
"Harry must have had almost three cups then," said Hermione thoughtfully. "I wonder . . . " She got up went over to the bookshelf.
It was oddly comforting for Ginny to see Hermione searching for answers in a book; as far as she was concerned, if there was a solution to be found, Hermione would find it. The books on Ron and Harry's shelves were mostly the same as on Ginny's various volumes about Quidditch and then a full set of texts used in Auror training. Hermione was flipping through the treatise on potions, her lower lip captured in her teeth and she read intently. "That's what I thought," she muttered before looking up.
"What?" asked Ginny.
Hermione brought the book with her and sat down. "I think we already knew that the potion was made to target Harry, since Ron and I both drank some with no ill effects. She waved the book. "But this confirms that it's possible to target a potion to a person so specifically that they are induced to drink more of it, thus experiencing even greater effects." She looked at Ron. "We thought it tasted a little more bitter than normally, so neither of us finished our cups, and didn't have seconds," she said. "But it sounds like Harry drank a lot of it, and he would have wanted to. He probably would have been affected by just a little bit, but the more he drank . . ."
"The worse his memory loss," finished Ginny.
"And the more precisely it is – focused only on you," said Hermione apologetically. "Or more exactly, on the fact that you and he were . . . in a relationship?"
"In love," Ginny clarified, her heart twisting. I'm in love with him and he's . . . he's in love with me. Somewhere down deep. I know it. We just have to figure out how to find it again."
"We will," said Ron with so much vehemence that Ginny felt tears prick in her eyes.
"Thank you," she said quietly. She forced her thoughts away from Harry's love and to the more pressing matter of understanding what had been done to him. "So do you think your memory wasn't affected because you didn't drink enough coffee or because the potion wasn't made to affect you?" she asked. "And if I'd had any to drink, do you think I would have forgotten about me and Harry too?"
"I don't know," said Hermione. She sounded frustrated. "Without any of the coffee to test, I can't be sure. And even if we did have some left, the only way to find out might be to have you drink some, and we obviously wouldn't do that."
Ginny shivered. What if she had drunk the coffee too? If she'd forgotten she loved Harry, and gone back to how she'd viewed him before, would the two of them have ever found their way back? Right now they had no idea what to do, but Ginny was determined to fight with everything she had. If she had taken the potion too, it would have been up to Ron and Hermione to fix things. Ginny had no doubt they would have noticed something off and done whatever they could to help, but it wouldn't have been the same; they wouldn't have understood – really understood – what had been lost. They may have never made the connection to the coffee and Kane. Who knew how long it would have been until Ron and Hermione gave up, assuming that since no one's life was in danger, they didn't need to keep fighting so hard? The thought was chilling.
". . . his crush?" Ginny? Ron was speaking, and apparently had been for a minute or two already. Ginny forced her mind back. "I'm sorry, what were you saying?" she asked.
Ron didn't even look annoyed that Ginny hadn't been listening to him. He waved his hand at Harry's sleeping figure. "I think we need to figure out how far back Harry's memory loss goes," he said. "For example, do you think he remembers that he had a crush on you?"
"Since Fifth Year," added Hermione. "I think it's important."
"Does it matter?" asked Ginny. "His crush was completely one-sided and secret and nothing like what . . . what we have now. What's real between us." She refused to speak about her and Harry in the past tense or acknowledge in any way that he might not be feeling those things at the moment. If Harry had reverted back to his teenaged crush it felt worse somehow, than if he'd just temporarily forgotten he loved Ginny. The crush meant they'd have to start over, and her and Harry's relationship, which had grown naturally and organically over the past months might look completely different at the end. She gave Hermione a challenging look.
Hermione nodded. "It's a good thing, actually," she said. "If he remembers the crush that means only a specific, recent memory of you has been removed. Everything else is the same, so if we can figure out how to erase the effects of the potion, that memory might return with no ill effects."
There were several threads of thought in that last sentence that needed investigating. Ginny pulled on the easier one first. "No ill effects?" she asked hopefully.
Hermione nodded. "If the potion is just . . . blanketing that particular memory in Harry's brain, and we can figure out how to remove the blanket, then things should go pretty much back to normal. He might not even remember this time."
That was exactly what Ginny wanted to hear. Still, she couldn't ignore the rest of what Hermione had said. "You used a lot of 'ifs' and 'mights' though," she said.
Hermione took a deep breath. "Well, I'm making a lot of assumptions," she said. "Memory charms and potions and spells can work in a lot of different ways. For example, when I modified my parents memories and sent them to Australia, I masked their original memories with a new life story – one that didn't include me in it. I wasn't sure exactly how they'd be when I removed it and gave them new memories afterwards." Her voice wavered a bit and Ron put his arm around her. For a moment, Ginny felt like an ass. Hermione had given up her parents for an entire year – performed a much more complex charm without any guarantee they'd remember her at the end – without knowing if she'd even live to remove it. What was the loss of Harry's love compared to that? He still remembered who she was, and now that Ginny knew the truth, her behavior towards Harry was different than before, even if his wasn't. It was much better than what Hermione had been through, and she said so.
Hermione wiped her eyes and gave Ginny a small smile. "I'm okay," she said. She continued to lean into Ron. "And I knew what I was doing for my parents and what needed to be done at the end. That made it easier. Right now, I'm guessing about Harry."
Ron leaned forward. "How do you think Kane figured it out?" he asked. "That's probably a good place to start." He looked at Ginny. "You don't think Angelina would have said something, do you? She's the only other trainee who knows."
Ginny shook her head. "She wouldn't – she told me she wouldn't, and I believe her." She grimaced. "I think it was me. I sometimes . . . thought about Harry. During class." She felt her face turn a little red. "I didn't mean to, but . . ."
"Some of those lectures were dry," finished Ron.
"Kane's been trying Legilimency on me all year," she said. "He even admitted it once; didn't seem to think it was a big deal to use that skill as an investigatory tool. I tried to avoid eye contact after that but I probably slipped once or twice."
"And it wouldn't have been difficult for him to tell from what you were thinking . . .?" asked Hermione gently. Ginny saw her squeeze Ron's arm lightly, as if warning him not to interrupt.
Ginny felt her face heat up a bit more. "No," she admitted. "I mean, nothing too explicit," she added hastily, "but the . . . fact that we're together yeah, Kane could have gotten that. And maybe some of the . . . emotions between us." She carefully did not look at her brother.
Hermione was thinking hard, Ginny could tell. She finally nodded slowly. "Okay. So Kane probably doesn't know too many specific details about you two, which is good and bad. He might have had to guess about what exactly to remove, which means Harry might have lost things we haven't realized."
"Which will make it harder to put them back," said Ginny flatly.
"Maybe," Hermione admitted. "I just don't know enough yet about the potion or its effects and potential remedies." Ron looked up.
"Remedies for a potion?" he asked. "Couldn't we just make him swallow a bezoar?" He looked hopefully at his girlfriend.
Even Ginny knew the answer to that one. "Bezoars can reverse the damaging physical effects of many poisons," she said. "Maybe if Harry had swallowed one along with his coffee, it might have stopped the memory loss, but it would be useless now."
Hermione nodded in agreement, but before she could say more, there was a groan from the sofa. The three of them froze as Harry rolled over and the blanket slipped off of him. "Wass 'er name?" he mumbled. He reached out as if to grab something and then dropped his hands again. Hermione walked over to him and knelt by his head.
"What's whose name, Harry?" she asked gently.
Harry's eyes were still closed. "Server's name," he said. "Wass nice," he said. "Pretty." He had a small smile on his face.
Ginny felt as thought she'd been hit by a Bludger. Even when Harry had been drunk after his hazing night, he hadn't talked about other witches, not even the one he'd just been snogging at the pub. He'd mentioned Ginny, actually. Something about her being his friend, if she remembered correctly, and nothing about kissing Katerina Bellows. Tonight apparently, the server at the pub had made more of an impression on Harry, but was that happenstance or because he wasn't harboring what he thought was an unrequited crush on Ginny? Hermione started to get up but Ginny shook her head. "Let me," she said, not caring if it wasn't the proper thing to do. "Harry would want me to try."
Hermione nodded and Ginny got up and knelt by Harry's head. Her hand was halfway to his head, ready to stroke his cheek before she realized what she was doing and pulled back. "Umm, the server isn't here, Harry," she said carefully. Across the room, Hermione motioned her to go on. "I don't remember her name, I'm sorry."
Harry quieted at the sound of Ginny's voice. He turned his head towards her. "Gin . . . isssat Ginny?" he slurred.
Ginny felt a thrum of relief that Harry had immediately known who she was. She swallowed hard and kept her voice even. "It's me, Harry," she said. "I, uhh, came here with Ron and Hermione after the pub."
Harry nodded, his eyes still closed. "D'you kiss Dam?" he asked. "He likes you, I think."
Ginny looked at Ron and Hermione, panicked. She had kissed Dam of course, but it didn't seem like Harry remembered that. She made a quick decision. "No," she said. "I didn't." She couldn't tell from Harry's face if he'd heard her. "And I won't," she said more firmly.
Harry gave a tiny nod. "Good," he mumbled. "Not Dam." He grabbed at the blanket and Ginny pulled it higher over his chest. "Don' hex me."
"Why would I hex you, Harry?" she asked quietly. But Harry's breathing had evened out and he didn't answer. Ginny couldn't hold herself back anymore, and she brushed her hand across Harry's forehead, letting it rest there a moment before leaning down to kiss him softly on the cheek. He mumbled something unintelligible and for a moment, Ginny thought she'd heard her name. But then Harry rolled away from her and slept on.
Ginny brushed an angry tear off her cheek and stood up. "I'm speaking to Camilla first thing Monday morning," she said. "I'll think up some excuse to avoid Kane. Probably Robards too, for now." She looked at Ron and Hermione. "This is too big for just us and I don't want to waste any time." She looked down at Harry's sleeping form. "What should we do until then?"
"I think one of us, I mean, just me and Ron, should be with him at all times," said Hermione. She looked apologetically at Ginny. "You can be here too, off and on, but. . ."
"But I need to pretend everything's like it used to be with us," nodded Ginny. "I know." She gave them a small smile. "Can you stand it if I'm my petty, irritating old self again?" she asked her brother.
Ron's smile back was equally sad. "I'm so sorry, Ginny," he said.
The morning sun was beginning to peek through the windows when Ginny walked back to her flat, finally exhausted enough that she thought she might be able to sleep and with promises from Ron and Hermione that they'd contact her if anything changed.
Her hair was mostly dry now and the pajamas she'd hastily pulled on were mis-matched but comfortable. Ginny pulled back the blankets on her bed, carefully trying to avoid looking at the second pillow. But she couldn't keep the images out of her head - Harry propped up on his side, watching her as she got ready to climb in next to him. In that case, she'd have pulled off her pajamas first, she knew. Maybe left only her knickers on, to give Harry the pleasure of slowly prizing them off, teasing her all the while.
Ginny didn't even bother brushing away her tears this time. She got into bed and turned firmly away from the other side - from Harry's side - before roughly extinguishing all the light in her flat, pointing her wand almost violently at the curtains to get them to close. With any luck, she'd be able to sleep a big chunk of the day away and wake up that much close to Monday and to being able to find a way to fix this, and get Harry back.