Harry was feeling quite comfortable and warm while having an excellent dream. It was really a memory from a much simpler, safer time.
He was at the Burrow during the summer before his second year, just lounging in the sitting room along with all the Weasley brothers still in residence. Percy was polishing his prefect badge, lecturing his brothers on behaving themselves this year, so as not to interfere with his chances of becoming Head Boy the following year.
Harry watched comfortably from his favorite spot as Fred and George nodded solemnly along while Percy directed his speech at them. When their elder brother turned toward Ron and began in on him about following school rules, however, their expressions changed into something mischievous; Harry could tell by their furious whispers that they were already plotting various pranks to play on him. When Ron was finally freed and Percy left the room to begin his NEWT preparations, he came over and sat on the edge of the couch nearest Harry's chair.
"Merlin! He's finally gone mental. He has almost two years until he has to take his NEWTs and he's studying already? It's summer!"
Harry hummed noncommittally. He couldn't really mock Percy when he had studied this summer too, not that there had been much else to do at the Dursleys, but still. He was too warm and comfortable in the soft, sunlit chair that always smelled like flowers to start a conversation about it, however. Instead, he rested his head on the arm of the chair and rubbed his face further into the pillow there, where the comforting floral scent seemed to be concentrated. I may have to steal this pillow later, he thought idly.
"Anyway, now that's over with, wanna play chess?"
"Nah. Comfortable. Don't wanna get up," he muttered sleepily.
"Godric, you're almost as bad as Ginny," Ron replied in exasperation. "You're lucky she's been hiding or you'd never be allowed to sit there. She's always hanging around in it, reading or writing or whatever she does. Drives Mum spare that she's always falling asleep in the middle of the afternoon there."
Ginny.
The thought tickled something in his mind, pulling him from his dream. As he woke, he realized that it was not imagined, that he actually was warm and that same floral scent from his favorite chair at the Burrow was currently coming from somewhere very near his nose, despite that he was fully aware he was currently somewhere in Grimmauld Place.
As he squinted his eyes open, the blurred, but flaming red color of Ginny's hair stood out and thoughts of last night came rushing back to him. He must have nodded off as well after she extinguished the lamp and insisted she wanted to go back to sleep. His glasses were still on, but had become skewed while he slept. He righted them and carefully studied the girl beside him while he assessed the situation.
Unfortunately, Harry had an erection. This wasn't uncommon - he was a typical red-blooded male in his teens after all - but this wasn't just his usual morning wood. This was largely because he had woken up beside her.
Honestly, Harry felt a little uncomfortable being so aroused by Ginny. It wasn't that she was unattractive - far from it actually - but it was that he had never looked at her that way until he had seen her the way she was last night, and it felt wrong to do so now when she seemed completely unaware of how enticing she looked in that state.
When he entered the room last night and she sat up, he had been taken off guard by the sight of her in a threadbare t-shirt. In fact, it was his threadbare shirt, even if he hadn't seen it since it had disappeared in Ron's mess of a room that summer he had just been dreaming about. He couldn't say he had missed it, as it was a cast-off of Dudley's and had been huge and awkward looking on his small frame.
Ginny was slightly built as well, but the large clothing allowed the neckline to hang attractively off to the side, exposing her collarbone and baring her freckled shoulder. In the darkness of the room, he hadn't been able to see beyond the slight shape of the swell of her breasts, but he had guessed correctly that he'd be able to see more through the thin fabric in the light of day. Realizing that his eyes had now caught on the shape of her nipples and the slight hint of pink through the white shirt, he quickly looked away and shifted his now painfully hard erection in an attempt to alleviate his discomfort.
The movement jostled the bed and Ginny shifted a bit in response. Harry froze, desperately hoping she wouldn't wake. Lucky for him, she simply snuggled deeper into her pillow, her red hair falling like a curtain over her face. The movement as a lock of it cascaded down made the light catch, igniting all those shades of red, copper, and gold that he had first noticed yesterday, transfixing him. Unthinkingly, he reached out and brushed it away to uncover her face. It was slightly tangled after the long night, but impossibly silky between his fingers. It took concentrated effort for him to pull his hand away. Only the thought that she may wake up and notice his current excited state, which had somehow, impossibly gotten worse, was enough to overpower the urge to tangle his fingers deeper into it. It didn't help that when he did pull back, another wave of her scent hit him.
Harry forced himself to turn away from the sight of her and breathe in air that was clear of her scent to try and right himself. His eyes caught on the photos of muggle women magically stuck to the walls. He remembered Ginny's joke last night and considered them. Aside from what he had seen of her last night and a few other inappropriate magazines Seamus had passed around the dorm, Harry had very little experience looking at half-dressed women. While the women in these photos, and the ones from Seamus's magazines as well, were attractive enough in a general way, the images didn't really do anything for him now. They were too… fake. Everything about the photos was clearly staged and lifeless.
His eyes slid back to Ginny almost against his will. She was real. She was almost vibrating with warmth and life at times. Even last night, when they had both been subdued, she had made him laugh. He had seen a side of her in those moments that he'd never had the opportunity to witness before. He quite liked who Ginny was when she was real with him and held nothing back.
Harry thought again about everything Sirius had told him and everything he had already known about Ginny for a long time. He found that his godfather had been correct about her. She was kind and compassionate, as well as loyal and brave. She wasn't the least bit afraid of him either. Sirius had said she was sly too.
The thought of Sirius is what enabled him to cool his ardor without doing anything physical with it. For once, however, it wasn't due to an overwhelming sense of grief. This time it was actually irritation because he knew, without a doubt, that Sirius was out there somewhere on the next great adventure laughing his arse off about Harry's current predicament.
He sighed in relief, grateful to have some measure of control back and happy that he wouldn't embarrass himself on his way to the loo. That feeling was shattered only moments later when Ginny rolled away from him, pulling the blanket with her. It would have been a relief, as he would no longer be tempted to stare at her chest, except she had kicked the blanket off and the shirt had been caught under her, showing off her entire silhouette and baring enough of her bum that he could see a hint of her knickers. Merlin, she even has freckles on her-.
Harry jerked back and stared resolutely at the ceiling. He couldn't ogle her like that in her sleep. It was wrong. He couldn't seem to help himself though. I have to get out of here.
His decision came too late, however, because Ginny groaned and woke. It must have been all the exposed skin because she shivered and reached around blindly until she found the quilt and pulled it back over herself.
She let out a satisfied hum when she was once again securely wrapped.
The sound made his penis twitch. Harry decided right then and there that the universe hated him and was actively trying to kill him. Even if the situation couldn't literally kill him on its own, if her parents or any of her brothers were to walk in and find him like this, he was sure he could count himself as a dead man. He needed to find a safe way out.
The cloak! It suddenly came to him. How could I have forgotten I wore it here last night? Truthfully, he knew why. He was completely distracted by everything that was Ginny this morning. Regardless,he was immensely grateful that he had worn it last night and it would offer him cover on his way to the loo. Quickly he stood up and threw it over himself.
A clunking sound as two objects hit the floor drew both his and Ginny's attention. She quickly sat up.
"Harry?" she asked in confusion as she tried to bat the sleep away from her tired eyes.
Harry quickly reached down and grabbed the offending objects, all thoughts of raging teenage hormones having fled at the sight of them, and slid them into his pocket before she could see.
"I'm here," he said from his invisible position. "I was just about to sneak out to use the loo. Then maybe I thought we could meet back here and talk?" He was dreading the conversation, but it had to be done.
She was stretching as she got up and nodded, but Harry was too preoccupied to appreciate it. The weight in his pocket felt like it was tied directly to something in his chest and was pulling him down a path he didn't want to go.
He almost missed it when she said, "Sounds good. I'll stop by the kitchen and get us some breakfast too."
Quickly mumbling his agreement, he fled.
After using the loo - only to relieve his bladder - he made his way to the, thankfully empty, room he shared with Ron. Morosely, he sat on the bed and pulled out the items from his pocket and looked at them. In his hand sat two rings, the Black Family Rings, and the reason he had stopped exploring the things Sirius had left him in favor of waking Ginny last night to apologize for everything.
Objectively, he knew they were actually attractive pieces of jewelry, and expensive knowing the Black family pride, but he hated them. The man's ring, Orion's, wasn't as offensive. It was a traditional family signet ring bearing the Black coat of arms, although just seeing the "Toujours Pur" motto of the Blacks unsettled him a bit.
Walburga's ring was different. If it had been given to anyone besides Harry or Ginny, it probably would have been looked upon in awe. It had a large glittering fire opal at the center and the emerald-paved band was artistically shaped to wrap around the wearer's finger in a nonsymmetrical way.
All Harry could see when he looked at it was the Basilisk.
The entire thing must have been crafted to be snakelike; there was no other explanation for why the setting of the stone had been cut so that it had a holographic effect depicting the slit of a snake's pupil, why the small emeralds were inlaid in the pave setting to resemble scales, or why the band itself wrapped and curled around unevenly like the slithering creatures did as they coiled in on themselves.
He couldn't look at the horrid thing without vivid memories of that horrible time flashing through his mind, and he really didn't think Ginny would be able to either. It was possible she could just get away with wearing Orion's ring as head of the Black family, but people would certainly expect her to have a ring from Harry too at some point, and he couldn't fathom giving her Walburga's. Even as he stared at it, the image of Ginny pale and cold, face-down on the Chamber floor floated behind his eyelids. He forcefully pushed both the memory and the ring away.
The words Sirius had written came back to him. He hadn't wanted Harry to feel badly, had said, "my hope is simply that you'll think it through and do better moving forward". Harry had thought about it, wallowed, and apologized last night. The time for that had passed. Today, he was going to pull himself together and be normal. He wouldn't be sullen or stuttering and awkward the way he had been last night. He was going to keep his chin up and move forward. I can do this. Just be normal. He repeated the sentiment like a mantra as he dressed and made his way back upstairs.
Lost in his thoughts, it felt like no time at all before she arrived carrying a tray of food. Harry was immensely grateful to find that Ginny was properly dressed when she did. While he didn't think the topic of conversation that was to follow would allow him to become distracted by thoughts of what he now knew was hidden beneath her clothes, it was just as well that the temptation wouldn't be there. It was too easy to allow himself to focus on the pleasantness of the shape of her and lose himself in the feelings of warmth they inspired than to allow himself to acknowledge the feelings of loss and hopelessness that had been constantly weighing on him recently.
She noticed his change in attire as well. "Good, you're dressed," she said without other introduction. "I don't think anyone will bother us given the circumstances, but Mum was in a tizzy about what I was wearing, even though I was wearing my dressing gown." Her voice was a disturbingly impressive imitation as of her mother's as she mimicked, "It's just not appropriate to be wearing your brother's clothing, Ginny dear. You have such lovely nightgowns - you do remember the ones Aunt Muriel sent for Christmas, don't you? - yet you insist on dressing like some sort of vagrant!' " She rolled her eyes. "There is absolutely nothing 'lovely' about those nightgowns." She scowled. "It's like trying to sleep in a sack!" The unpleasant expression morphed into something playful and self-satisfied. "And that shirt had been sitting in Ron's dresser completely ignored for years before I liberated it. Really, I was doing the lonely thing a favor by stealing it."
Harry was strangely disappointed to find that she hadn't known the shirt was actually his. Not that she would have seen him in it, the way she had constantly run from his presence that summer. Ginny really has changed over the years, he thought to himself. He didn't voice any of the observations, choosing instead to simply smile at her.
Setting down a plate in front of each of them, she continued, "Sorry it took so long. There was the whole bit with Mum, then managing to avoid Hermione while getting dressed, and I ran into Tonks on my way up here. Apparently, we've been given a reprieve. She, along with Remus and Mad-Eye, have managed to organize the watcher shifts at Privet Drive so that Dumbledore shouldn't be alerted to the fact that you're not there until we work out how and when to tell him."
He was both surprised and relieved, yet still uncertain. "Won't he notice they've messed with the watches?"
"From what I hear, he's a bit busy handling the fall-out from the 'revelation' that Tom is back." Her face pinched and her lip curled in disgust. "Idiots. As if you haven't been telling them for a year…" She shook the thought away and focused back on him. "He will check personally at some point, but, for now, we should be safe as long as no one alerts him directly that something isn't right."
Harry, having already started on his toast, nodded and swallowed before he could answer. "That's good. I can't imagine he'll be pleased. He's always insisted I go back."
"I know," she replied darkly as her face morphed into a scowl. "And I know he must have good reasons for sending you off with those… people…" the thinness of her lips reminded him of an annoyed McGonagall and the effect was quite frightening, "but it wasn't right. You deserved better than being stuck with them, and I'm glad you don't have to go back."
Her voice was suffused with warmth at the end and her eyes were almost glowing. When he looked at her full on, it felt like it was spreading from her into him and gave him the courage to say what needed to be said.
"I know what the prophecy says." he blurted out.
She blinked and all prior expression drained from her face. "Excuse me?"
He cursed himself for his own stupidity. Though he may have finally gotten the courage, it didn't mean he had magically figured out a way to do it with finesse. Still, he cleared his throat and carried on.
"The prophecy… the one Voldemort was after that was destroyed that night… I know what it says." He took a deep breath, and then suddenly the words were pouring out. "Dumbledore was actually the one who recorded it and submitted it to the Unspeakables. It was given by Trelawney of all people, if you can believe that. It said…" and so he told her everything: the prophecy, the circumstances in which it was given and passed to Voldemort, everything Dumbledore had told him about his interpretation, and even all about his behavior. She only showed any hint of reaction twice: her eyes narrowed when she realized Dumbledore had been withholding the information purposefully and a smirk lifted her face briefly when she heard about the destruction he had caused in the man's office. She never once looked surprised.
When he finally had conveyed everything, silence fell, during which she looked at him carefully. He could tell she wasn't ignoring him or stunned speechless; she was simply weighing everything, including him. Her eyes trailed over his face until they met his directly. They were resolute.
"You'll beat him," she said plainly, as if she were commenting that the sky was blue. She said it as fact.
He blew out a heavy breath, unsure whether to argue the point or thank her for her confidence in him.
He knew it wasn't the kind of confidence that one walked onto the Quidditch pitch with. It wasn't blithe or glowing, the kind that Ginny sometimes radiated. He could see how heavily it weighed on her to make the assessment at all, and he could see the knowledge had left a mark on her by the way she kept her expression slightly veiled, yet he knew she firmly believed he would win out none-the-less.
Thank you, Gin. He couldn't form the words, but he thought she might have understood anyway, because she smiled reassuringly at him.
Still, he wanted to know more of what she thought. He had realized she seemed to have the innate ability to see through to the heart of things easily and was capable of thinking things through even under pressure. Cautiously, he asked, "What about the power-he-knows-not? Do you believe Dumbledore?"
Her expression turned thoughtful and he could practically see her mind working as she turned over what Dumbledore said. He was glad she was seriously considering the question and not just rushing to agree in order to placate him. When she responded there was a distance to her countenance that made Harry feel like she was thinking much more than she said. All she offered was, "He may have a point there. Tom, in any of his forms, has never known or appreciated anything of love."
They spent some more time discussing the things Dumbledore had said. Harry expressed his concerns about certain things, like Voldemort's extensive magical repertoire. Dumbledore himself had said that Voldemort knew far more about magic than almost anyone else alive and Harry wasn't sure that even something as "great and terrible" as love could combat that. Ginny took it all in, making astute observations and asking for clarification on things she didn't quite understand. After a time, they settled into silence. Eventually Ginny blew out a breath and settled with her elbows on her knees and threaded her fingers through her hair. The movement sent a concentrated wave of her scent toward him.
"Ugh," she said in disgust, pulling back and trying to work out the tangles her fingers caught on. "Okay, I'm sorry to do this, but I desperately need a shower. My hair is absolutely disgusting right now." Harry didn't think there was anything remotely wrong with it, but kept his opinions to himself. What did he know about girls' hair? "Anyway, I'd like to think about things a little more, and I'm pretty sure we're all talked out about this right now. Do you agree?"
It took him a second to get past the idea of her in the shower, though he quickly banished the thought, worried she'd be able to see it in his expression. "Yeah," he said in affirmation. "I can't think of anything else to add at the moment."
"Alright," she agreed. She winced a bit and asked apologetically, "Do you think you could bring the dishes back to the kitchen? I, uh, am not quite ready for another run in with my mother just yet," she paused, "or other individuals who shall remain nameless."
He guessed just about everyone in residence was on that list, and let out a chuckle. "Sure, Gin. No problem."
She gave him a glowing smile and turned to leave. She paused as she cracked the door and peeked into the hallway. It caused her bum to stick out, drawing his attention. With one last look over her shoulder, she winked and threw him a cheeky grin before disappearing.
That image of her lingered and consumed his thoughts.
She had changed, but if she hadn't showered yet, maybe that meant she was still wearing the same knickers he had seen this morning. We're hardly even friends. I shouldn't be thinking about her, or her underthings, like that, the noble part of him scolded. But...it was the first time he had ever seen a girl in her knickers and she looked hot. Her bum was perfectly taut covered in the dark gray fabric. It looked as if they had once been black, but had faded with repeated washing that resulted not only in draining the fabric of its color, but also making it incredibly soft. I wonder if they're her favorite, he mused, before realizing that he was obsessing. It's perfectly normal for a bloke to obsess over the first time he sees an attractive girl in her knickers, another voice in his head rationalized.
Reasonable or not, Harry shook off that train of thought, realizing he had been sitting there a bit longer than he had thought. He gathered the dishes from their breakfast, noticing that Ginny hadn't really eaten hers. When they were eating and talking, he hadn't noticed, as she had given attention to the food on her plate, but now it was clear by how much was still left. Her face had appeared pretty drawn, now that he thought about it, and he promised to keep a closer eye on her eating habits moving forward.
Thankfully, he made it to the kitchen without running into anyone, quite the feat in Grimmauld Place. A glance at the smudged clock on the wall told him it was already eleven in the morning, and he knew Mrs. Weasley would begin preparations for lunch at any moment. While he wasn't upset with the woman at all, he wasn't keen on talking to anyone and hoped to make it back up to the privacy of Sirius's room without interruption. It was not to be.
Hermione accosted him almost as soon as he had reached the top step. He really hated calling it that, but the way she dragged him into the front hall and immediately launched herself into questioning him left little room for other interpretation.
He ignored her and said in a warning tone, "Good morning to you too, Hermione."
Hermione waved a dismissive hand, either missing his irritation or simply ignoring it, and replied, "It's afternoon now, Harry. You missed breakfast, as did Ginny." She gave him a pointed look. "So I gather you must have spoken. How did it go? What did you say to her? What did she say? How is she handling everything?"
His irritation only grew at this. He may have shared almost everything with Ron and Hermione, but that information had belonged to him and was his to share with whomever he liked. This was different. This wasn't just his - it was theirs. Moreover, Ginny's private thoughts and feelings were her own. He felt as though last night she had let him see a part of her that she rarely showed others, and he had no right, nor any desire, to share it with Hermione.
Not wanting to pick a fight with her already, he decided on evasion. "Didn't you two spend the entire evening talking in your room? You didn't even come down to dinner."
She faltered for a moment, then composed herself. "Well, yes, but she just said she was confused about some things and asked me questions about what we had discovered from the journal. I had thought it was completely to be expected that she would be curious and want to understand, so I spent the evening explaining everything in detail, until she said she needed to write some letters and left," she explained before her lips pursed. Irritated, she continued, "Then Ron told me this morning that he had told her all about it when they talked and that she had no trouble understanding it then, that she had figured most of it out on her own already! She didn't need my help. She just didn't want to talk to me about it."
"Perhaps you should respect her wishes then, Hermione," he replied stonily.
"I- we need to make sure she's alright, Harry. She was clearly very upset yesterday. Between the suddenness of the betrothal and everything with Sirius-"
Hearing her mention Sirius pushed him past his limit. She had no right to mention him as if she knew a damn thing about what he and Ginny were going through. Hermione hadn't even been supportive of Sirius when he was alive. He finally snapped, "We don't have to talk to you about anything. You can't control when or who people talk to. It's really none of your busin-"
"Harry," came her strong, sure voice from behind him and he cut himself off, turning to look at her immediately where she stood at the top of the basement stairway.
Ginny's tone hadn't been warning or reprimanding, and neither was her expression. She almost seemed to be studying him, but there was nothing judgmental in her eyes - everything about her was clear and steadfast, only asking for his attention. Their gaze met and he relaxed a fraction. She lifted her lips slightly in response.
Turning her gaze on Hermione, who looked rather upset by the turn her conversation had taken, she said in a friendlier voice than Harry could have imagined, "Thank you for worrying about us, Hermione. I know you're just trying to understand so that you can find a way to help. However, Harry was right." She glanced at Harry, shooting him a grateful look, "I would appreciate it if you could just respect my privacy for now and I'm sure Harry would as well."
Hermione looked from Ginny to Harry for confirmation. She looked hurt and slightly put out. Pushing back his annoyance as much as was possible at the moment, he stiffly said, "I would."
Smiling, Ginny said perkily, "Great. Now that we're in agreement, Hermione, perhaps you could help by doing some more research on the ritual in the library? I know they said the journal was all they had on it, but they could have missed something, and you're the best person I know at doing research. If there's anything to find, I'm sure you will."
"Of course, Ginny. Anything I can do to help," Hermione said, looking placated and grateful for having something to do. She gave Harry a repentant look as she passed on her way to the library. Apparently, she intended to start immediately.
Ginny turned to him next. He knew he must have been staring at her in astonishment, but she made no mention of it. She acted as if he hadn't just watched in complete amazement as she calmly took control of the situation and defused the budding argument effortlessly.
She motioned for him to follow her. Without thought, he followed closely behind her up the stairs. It was a mistake.
Her bum was perfectly aligned in front of his face. Her trousers weren't remotely flimsy, but he still felt he could see right through them to the creamy expanse of toned legs, the freckles there making a pattern for his eyes to trace all the way up to her taut b-.
The hardening occurring in his own trousers had Harry looking down resolutely at his feet as he trudged up the stairs. What the hell? I was never like this with Cho. True, he had enjoyed looking at her - she had a pretty face - and he had imagined what her body might have looked like beneath all the layers of her uniform. However, those had been hazy and indistinct guesses and had certainly never consumed him to the point of leering at her like a pervert the way he was with Ginny. Stop, he ordered himself. She's a person, not an exhibit.
Harry realized that, while he could stop, he didn't want to. Thinking about Ginny made him feel alive and excited, something he hadn't felt since his godfather had died. It suddenly occurred to him that he'd been using thoughts of Ginny like a Patronus to avoid the reality that was hovering like a dementor. The thought made him feel guilty and dirty, like he'd been using her as a cheap escape.
As he considered it more closely however, he realized it didn't have to be that way. It wasn't just the way that she looked that helped him; it was her. The way she spoke and handled herself, (and him, if he was honest with himself) warmed and centered him. Even her scent was more comforting than it was arousing.
Latching onto this new realization, he struck up conversation instead. "Hermione said you were writing letters last night? Who were you writing to?"
She shot him an assessing, guarded look over her shoulder, before facing forward again.
"I'm not meaning to pry-" he began, face burning, as he realized his questions had come off as an interrogation, and Merlin knew how he hated when people did that to him.
She waved it away, though. Without looking back, she replied, "That's actually one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. With everything else we had to talk about, it had completely slipped my mind earlier, until I got a response letter. I was just waiting until we could talk privately if you don't mind," she said easily as she led him into the study. Part of him jumped at the thought of being alone with her at the moment, but he was mostly just glad they were in the study where there were no reminders - aside from the sight of her itself - of what had happened earlier this morning.
As soon as they were seated, she launched abruptly into the topic, the same way she had this morning. "I wrote to Percy last night. I'm sorry for not asking, and not mentioning it until now, but I didn't think either of us were really ready to talk yet, and it couldn't wait." She took a moment to center herself, an action Harry was becoming accustomed to seeing. Now self-possessed, she continued assured, "The news of the betrothal hasn't broken yet and I thought it would be wise to see if we could get some control over when it does. Percy's position in the ministry makes him well-placed to assist in covering it up for the time being."
"Percy…" he replied slowly, not wanting to poke at the wound, but also wanting to point out that, terrible as it was, her brother had given them no reason to suggest he would be willing to help. As far as he knew, Percy was still avoiding his family despite having been proved wrong about Voldemort.
She sighed. "I'm not condoning his behavior. He's hurt all of us. It's true that Percy is a prat who has yet to admit he made a mistake and I'm still very upset with him, but… he's family. He has a lot of pride and ambition, yes, but I asked for his help. I don't think he'd ignore that, even if he didn't already know he was wrong." Looking conflicted, she continued, "He does care. Despite how awful and self-righteous that letter he wrote to Ron about you was, it came from a good place. He was just aligned with the wrong people and too foolish and stubborn to see it."
Giving it careful consideration before replying, Harry decided that she was right. Percy was a fool if he thought Ron would ever leave Harry's side, but given how he prioritized success over the bonds of family and friends, Harry could see how he may have thought he was helping his brother. Still, he wondered, "Are you sure we can trust him? That he's not going to run to Umbridge or Fudge?"
"He'd better not," she replied tensely, with a dangerous glint in her eye. She quickly relaxed and continued, "I didn't tell him the specifics - I still don't trust him enough for that - but I told him we had been betrothed and that I would become a bigger target if it became public knowledge." She shrugged. "Hopefully that'll be enough incentive. He did agree, so I'm optimistic for now."
Harry could see a flaw in that. "By pointing out how dangerous for you it is, don't you think he'll just look into it more and try and break it? Especially if he still thinks I'm unstable or too dangerous for you?"
Resolutely, she said, "I made it very clear that I will not be breaking the betrothal under any circumstances and that things would only be worse for me if he attempted to intervene or if there was anything disparaging about you in the papers as a result of his interference." Her voice took on a hint of malice as she continued, "I also made it clear that he would not like the repercussions if he betrayed his family that way." Harry didn't know exactly with what she had threatened her brother, but her predatory expression convinced him that he was better off not knowing.
"Alright," he said, trusting her judgement. She nodded in return, but there was still a bit of lingering tenseness to her that had been brought on by discussing Percy. It bothered him to see it, so he tried to move the conversation along. "You said that was one of the things you wanted to talk about. What else was there?"
As Harry intended, the tight air about her vanished, only to be replaced by something that was all business. Her position was once again direct as she said, "I've been thinking about what we discussed this morning." Harry grew nervous, not liking the direction the conversation was taking. She hastened to reassure him, "I'm still certain you'll win, Harry." Thoughtfully, she added, "...and I do believe Dumbledore could be right about love being the power he knows not." Shaking her head, she continued, "It's unlikely to keep you alive, however. You need tools and training if you're going to fight him. I think we need to prepare as much as possible, now that we know a final confrontation is inevitable."
"What kind of training?" He asked, though he knew he agreed with her. He definitely wasn't prepared to face Voldemort, that was made very clear by the way the battle had gone in the Atrium of the Ministry. Any kind of training would help.
"I was thinking… we have access to a lot of good people with excellent skills being here at Headquarters. Bill could teach us as much as possible about wards, and I've been taking Ancient Runes, so I could help fill in the basics for you. Tonks and Moody should both be available to teach you tricks from the Aurors. Andromeda Tonks brews potions and provides healing for the Order and would probably be willing to help. I'm sure there are others, but that's what I've got for now. For the moment, I think it's enough."
Harry nodded in approval. "That sounds good. I'll ask Dumbledore as well when we finally talk to him."
"I was thinking so, too. Tonks is in and out all the time, so I'll ask her about her mother." She pulled a letter out of the desk, and he briefly wondered when she had time to write it. "I did want to get a letter out to Bill as soon as possible, though." She noticed his curious expression. "I needed to talk to him about Gringotts stuff anyway, with Sirius's will and all…" she trailed off. "But I ran out of owls. Could I borrow Hedwig?"
"Sure. Come on," Harry said, leading the way to his room, where he expected Hedwig was at present. If she had been there this morning, he didn't remember, but she was almost always sleeping at this time of day when they had been at the Dursleys during previous summers. He was correct and they had sent the letter in a matter of minutes.
He watched Hedwig fly away with grace over the bright London skyline before it occurred to him that something wasn't right. "What do you mean, you ran out of owls? Couldn't you have borrowed Errol or Pig?"
"Errol is back from Percy, yes, but I don't really trust him to get a letter to Bill after that. Especially since I want to see Bill as quickly as possible." Then, for the first time in what felt like a very long time, Harry watched as a blush spread across Ginny's face. "Pig isn't here actually. I borrowed him to send a letter to Dean and he hasn't gotten back yet."
"Oh." Harry had completely forgotten what she had told Ron on the train. It made something in his chest uncomfortable. He wanted to both scowl and apologize, because he knew why she had to write him. She had just yesterday told them that she had "chosen Dean Thomas" and now that option had been taken from her.
"I just told him not to bother to write." She gave him a pointed look that told him to not to go where he was planning on going. "I exaggerated a bit to nettle Ron on the train. He'd really only just asked if it would be alright if he wrote me, and I didn't see any reason not to allow it at the time." She shrugged cavalierly and the blush was now nonexistent, but he still wondered how she truly felt about it. She was looking around the room.
Her eyes caught on the clock, the time causing her to let out a surprised "Oh!" Turning back to him, she said, "Neville will be here any moment," Harry was surprised by the sudden jolt of annoyance he felt at that, "and I wanted to talk to him about the Wizengamot. He'll inherit the Longbottom seat and his Gran has been preparing him his entire life for it. As the seventh child, and the only girl to boot, I figured it would never really apply to me and didn't bother to pay attention to any of the discussion about what being a member entails," she gave him a sheepish grin.
Her expression made him smile back reassuringly. "I'm sure you know more than me."
"Actually, that was another thing on my list. I'm fairly confident the Potters still have a seat, which will become yours. I thought maybe we could both sit down and talk with him about all that. Get an idea of what to expect."
Harry's mind went blank. "My family has a seat on the Wizengamot?"
She looked at him with the briefest hint of confusion before it morphed into compassion. "I'm not completely sure, Harry. But it would make sense. You come from an old and wealthy family. That's usually how it works."
Harry couldn't think of anything to say. He'd been living in the wizarding world for almost five years now and he was still constantly being blindsided by things. Someone should have told him sooner. He did know he had been too young to take control of a seat on the governing body before, but Ginny said Neville had been being prepped for it his entire life. Shouldn't someone have helped him prepare too?
Ginny pulled him from his thoughts with a gentle squeeze on the arm. Her calm settled him. As if she sensed that he was present again, she said reassuringly "I could very well be wrong. That's why we're going to talk to Neville, okay?"
"Yeah," he said weakly. He shook off the negative feelings and said again more strongly, "Yeah. It's a good idea." It was even true. He had intended to go through everything Sirius had left him this afternoon, but it could wait. Last night he had been dragging it out, rereading all the letters from himself that he had written to Sirius, wondering if the man could tell by the written words how much it had meant to Harry to have him in his life. The first items he had come across had been the rings, which had led to the conversation and then falling asleep. There was a lot more to go through - he still didn't know if this mysterious book his letter referenced was a separate item left to Harry personally, or just the magical lock-box that Sirius used to store things - but he was almost grateful to have an excuse to put it off. He knew once he had examined everything it would feel final.
Ginny just smiled in understanding.
Neville arrived soon thereafter and they headed to the study. He let them know that the Potters and Blacks both had seats, meaning both Harry and Ginny would be expected to take their places on the Wizarding body once they had reached twenty-one. It was the minimum age usually allowed, but exceptions could be made when the decision had been ratified by two-thirds of the Wizengamot. Given the current state of things, neither Harry nor Ginny had high hopes of that happening. Everything was too unstable for most members of the Wizengamot to openly support Harry Potter.
They spent the next hour discussing the ins and out of the hierarchy, the expected attendance, the voting procedures, and additional ins and outs. Mrs. Weasley even brought them up some sandwiches, saying they had missed lunch, but should keep up their strength. She didn't ask any questions, but gave both Harry and Ginny lingering, sad looks that they ignored for the moment. Now wasn't the time.
Neville offered a lot of information and Ginny asked a lot of questions, while Harry did his best to follow along. He kept finding himself distracted by Ginny though. He noticed she slightly squinted when she was considering something, usually arriving at some insight he would have missed. Thinking back to their earlier conversation, Harry realized this seemed to be a common thing for her. He added "inquisitive" to his growing list of her qualities.
When Neville finally left, he was grateful. It had been a long day already with far too many long discussions. It didn't help having to watch Neville hug Ginny goodbye. The closeness between the two was something he wasn't part of, and it bothered him more than he cared to admit. He said farewell to Neville with a nod, the other boy giving him a slightly amused looking smile that did nothing to settle Harry's feelings of annoyance toward him.
Harry stayed as close to Ginny as he could for the rest of the day. After having spent most of that time thinking it over, Harry realized that his earlier assessment of Ginny acting as a patronus for him had been spot on.
In her, he had someone who knew the truth of what he had to face. She didn't bombard him with questions he didn't have answers to the way Hermione would have, or look at him with uncomfortable sympathy like Ron sometimes did. She simply supported him, resolute in her belief that he could and would overcome.
Not being the subject of a prophecy regarding the end of a Dark Lord herself, she couldn't understand entirely, but she understood enough. She understood his grief and loss, as well as the terror and horror that was the man that he had to face. She knew and understood all that, had a fair appreciation what it all meant as well, but she didn't bow under the weight. She stayed strong and leant that strength to him as well.
It wasn't until she insisted that he needed a shower that Harry left Ginny's side. Even then, he did it grudgingly, wishing he could find some excuse to make her stay. Just as he suspected, the further he got from her, the more aptly he felt his depression return. It seemed his morose feelings had company, however, in the form of his best friend.
Ron was sitting on his bed in their shared room when Harry entered, staring at the wall. He didn't look at Harry when he entered. Just offered a dull hello.
Concerned, Harry asked, "Alright, mate?"
Ron ignored his greeting and posed his own question in return. "You talked to Ginny?" There was a strange note in his tone that Harry couldn't place.
"Yeah," Harry said cautiously, wondering if he had spoken to Hermione and was now going to fish for the answers he had refused to give earlier on her behalf. When Ron turned, however, it immediately became clear that this was not the case.
His friend's face was complete open and the genuine distress there made it clear he had no ulterior motive when he asked plaintively, "How is she handling everything?"
Hermione had asked him that same question earlier, but he felt none of the annoyance toward Ron that he had felt toward her earlier. His guileless expression showed nothing but concern for his sister's well-being and none of the curious need to understand and dissect that Hermione's had held. Harry understood that he wasn't asking for details, but for reassurance.
He tried to sound soothing as he spoke. "She's alright, mate. It's a big adjustment, but your sister is tough. She's handling it." He let out a self-deprecation laugh, "Probably a lot better than I am, honestly."
Ron leaned his head back against the wall, exhaled a large breath and gave a weak smile. He didn't laugh, but Harry understood how sometimes the anxiety didn't let you do more than that. He patted Ron's shoulder as he made his way to his own bed and plopped down.
They both lounged quietly for a few minutes. Harry liked this about Ron, that they could both just relax without feeling the need to fill the silence with inane chatter the way Seamus and Dean did. Still, he wasn't surprised when Ron eventually did break the quiet to ask if Harry was handling everything alright as well.
Once again sensing that Ron wasn't trying to pry and had no intention of pressing for details that Harry was reluctant to give, he replied, "Yeah." Then, because he thought his friend should know, "Your sister has actually been pretty amazing about this, surprisingly. I'd be willing to bet if this had happened with anyone but her, it'd be a hell of a lot harder."
Harry hadn't actually meant to reveal that much and quickly looked at his friend, wincing in anticipation. Instead of taking the mickey out of him as he had expected, Ron nodded thoughtfully, looking relieved.
"Ginny's special like that, always has been." Ron met his eyes seriously. "I'm glad you can see that. I've always worried she would end up with someone who wouldn't fully appreciate how amazing she really is."
Harry looked away, dragging a hand through his anxiously. "Er - we're not - you know it isn't -"
Thankfully Ron cut off his incoherent babbling with a dismissive gesture. "I know that, obviously. We all know you've never so much as even looked at Ginny like she's a girl before." Harry shifted guiltily as he tried to force down a blush, something that Ron thankfully didn't notice. "But with how binding this is, at least I know she won't end up with some prick who won't appreciate her."
"Y-yeah," Harry said, coughing to cover up his guilty expression. "I suppose that's true." He sobered when he remembered her words to Ron yesterday. "Don't you think she deserved a chance to try to find 'the one' though? Maybe there was a bloke waiting out there, one who would have appreciated her, that she would have fallen in love with?" Harry hated even just saying the words aloud. It felt wrong somehow, but he fought to keep the distaste off his face.
Maybe he hadn't been entirely successful, because Ron eyed him suspiciously before replying, "Well, she'll have you in a way. You'll appreciate her. It'll have to be enough." He shrugged, but then gave a sly smile. His eyes lit as he said, "Who knows, maybe something will change and it'll happen anyway."
Harry kept his expression carefully blank. He didn't think Ron could possibly have guessed at any of the changes in his perception of Ginny that had occurred over the last twenty-four hours, and after that comment about Harry not knowing Ginny was a girl, he was almost sure that Ron wasn't hinting that something might grow between them. He must have been though because Ron knew the binding of the betrothal was unbreakable. He almost asked, but there was something there in his friend's look that cautioned him against giving anything away about his feelings.
As the full content of what Ron said hit him, however, his face dropped. Ron was correct in the worst possible way; things could change in a way that could possibly allow her to have that - he could die as a result of the prophecy, facing down Voldemort. Even that was unlikely, however, seeing as Ginny was next on Voldemort's list. If Harry were to die facing Voldemort, her only chance was if Harry took him down as well. His resolve to defeat, already quite strong, hardened. He would make sure she never had to face Tom Riddle alone again.
Noticing Harry's expression, the impish look slipped away from Ron's face and he was serious once more. "Honestly, Harry, I've never thought anyone could be good enough for my baby sister, but if there is anyone who could ever deserve her, it would be you."
It was clear that Ron had misread exactly where Harry's thoughts had taken him, but the sentiment touched him none-the-less. He nodded silently to his friend, knowing Ron would understand. Heavy words and declarations had never been their thing.
Harry gathered his shower equipment and clothing silently before he headed off to the loo. After spending the day in Ginny's company, despite trying to focus solely on learning more about her, he found his body very much excited and looking for release. Feeling it would be a poor thank-you to his best mate to think about how developed his sister had become, Harry did his best to draw up the image of an anonymous pair of breasts in his face as he took himself in hand.
The fantasy sharpened in his mind as he continued. The - anonymous, random - girl straddled his lap and her long hair tickled where his hands laid on her hips as she rubbed herself against him. In his mind, Harry kept his eyes cast down at their bodies instead of her face. He ignored the fact that the hair smelled like flowers and felt like silk where it brushed him, as well as the constellation of freckles that dotted her chest. What he couldn't deny, however, was the long mane of hair made of seemingly endless shades of red that entered the fantasy and brought him to a shuddering climax.