AN: Another chapter we have Luke to thank for editing, just because he knew I wanted to post early. Thank you!
Harry's birthday had been a resounding success as far as Ginny was concerned. Harry had laughed, smiled, and all-around enjoyed himself far more than she had any right to expect given it was such a small gathering, but it had lifted her spirits to see him so. The feeling of euphoria had carried her through the late night and into slumber, still lingering in her limbs as she woke later than usual the next morning.
She realized rather quickly that it was not just the high from the previous day that had her tingling all over, but also the feel of Harry's fingers gently running through her hair. She let out a hum of approval at the sensation that quickly turned into a groan when he froze at the sound. "Don't stop," she mumbled, eyes still closed. "Feels good." She nuzzled her head against his hand to prompt him to continue.
His movements resumed as he released a deep, throaty chuckle that further warmed her. She blinked the sleep away from her eyes to better see him, pleased at the warm smile on his face when she did. Without her intention, a matching one lifted her own cheeks. "Hi." It was a stupid greeting, but his smile further widened.
"Hi yourself," he said, eyes sparkling and amusement in his tone. "Nice to see you awake."
"Hmm… I wonder why that is? It couldn't be because someone disturbed my slumber, could it?" she returned the gentle teasing with an arched brow.
He didn't look abashed in the slightest - something that proved just how far they'd come - as he defended, "Not my fault your hair is so attractive." He ran his hand from her scalp to the ends slowly. "There are so many colors in it already, but in the sun it practically glows."
A blush bloomed at the borderline reverence in his tone, but embarrassment couldn't quell the happiness that swelled inside her. For all that she had considered what might happen after the betrothal was announced, even her wildest imaginations had never considered this kind of bliss was possible. It was a fight to override her natural inclination to brush off the compliment, but she forced herself to return his openness by replying, "Thank you."
"It's true. You don't need to thank me for that." Harry shrugged, but didn't take his eyes off her as he continued his play, this time pulling it forward over her shoulder so that it fell between them.
"Still," she said leaning forward to kiss him.
The gentle kiss turned into two, then three, before igniting into a fire that had them shifting closer, limbs entangled as their tongues joined in a dance that they had quickly perfected. The demand for air, and a necessary break to cool off before things got out of control, saved them from being caught in a lip-lock when Fleur and Bill walked through the open door. As it was, the way they were pressed up against one another was borderline indecent, despite how quickly they managed to extricate themselves.
"Damn it, Ginny!" Bill exclaimed, averting his eyes while Fleur laughed, unphased. He continued lecturing, "What is wrong with you? I thought with the door open you'd have some sense of decency. Anyone could have walked in and seen that."
Harry looked absolutely mortified, cheeks as red as hers usually were and eyes wide. Ginny sympathized - a small part of her wanted to pull the covers over both of them and pretend the last few moments hadn't happened - but she fought her own embarrassment back in an effort to control the situation. Fleur's presence and the humor she so clearly found in the situation helped, and Ginny grasped at it.
"Well, not anyone. Just Weasleys and a select few others," she said airily. Inspiration struck. "Besides, Bill, I've seen you doing much worse. Annabella in the Orchard, summer after seventh year, ring any bells?"
Bill didn't become flustered like she had hoped. He glared instead. "That was different. I was of age and not in bed unsupervised."
"It was different. You were unsupervised in the orchard where your kid sister could stumble across you copping a feel," she countered.
Fleur came to her rescue, just as she hoped. "Oh, Bill!" she exclaimed in exaggerated horror. "Corrupting minors? Have you no decency?"
Harry seemed to have recovered a bit. "You mean like you and Roger Davies in the garden at the Yule Ball?" he teased Fleur.
"Spying isn't very gentlemanly, Harry," the older girl scolded, the amusement in her tone belying her words.
"It's not considered spying if it's in the open. You didn't seem particularly concerned about privacy then," Harry quipped back.
Fleur chuckled then, Harry and Ginny joining in. A quick glance at her brother showed that he was not amused. "What's wrong with him?" she asked, pointedly directing the question at Fleur instead of her grouchy brother.
He still answered first. His jaw tensed as he said, "What's wrong with me is that I just found my little sister - ".
"You are not helping, Bill," Fleur cut in, sending him a fierce look that cut off his rant. She turned back to Ginny and Harry. "There were several attacks last night. We were aiding in the recovery efforts this morning, but Dumbledore sent us back here to work with you."
"So he's sent you to put us off again then?" Ginny asked, not bothering to hide her frustration.
"He said you'd be unhappy," Bill said. The look he gave her was one of judgment. "It's bad, Ginny. He's an important person in the wizarding world. People look to him. He can't just come whenever you call."
"Don't treat me like a bratty child," Ginny snapped, her good mood long gone. "You have no idea what we're trying to accomplish."
Harry straightened beside her. "She's right. Things like this will just keep happening until we get this figured out. To do that, we need to actually meet with Dumbledore."
Bill looked ready to argue some more, until Fleur placed a calming hand on his arm. Soothingly, she said, "We have talked about this. You are not angry at them. You know that."
He visibly relaxed, the tense set of his jaw and shoulders dissipating slowly, and blew out a breath. Ginny couldn't help thinking that perhaps the couple was more well matched than she had given them credit for before.
"Sorry," he muttered. "I've seen a lot of twisted things in Egypt, but this morning was…" he trailed off with a grimace, leaving the horrors the Death Eaters had wrought unsaid.
Ginny felt her stomach clench at the world they now lived in, counting herself lucky not to have seen it. As much as she wanted to help, she knew the reality of it would be much worse than she could imagine. In a deep, dark corner of her mind, a door rattled, reminding her that things of this nature already lurked there ready to be seen if only she would let them out. She shied away from that knowledge, gripping Harry's hand and turning her entire focus on Fleur.
Satisfied, Fleur turned her attention back to them. "Part of the reason he asked us here is to test your Occlumency progress, particularly after physical training."
With more calm than he had shown since he arrived, Bill said grimly, "The idea is to simulate how you'd hold up to a Legilimency attack if you were in battle."
"Well, that's reassuring," Harry said wryly.
Despite everything, she laughed, comforted.
XXXXXXXXXXX
By the time they had gotten ready and made their way to the kitchen, it was already a hive of activity. Her mum was in the storage room, gathering ingredients and pre-made potions alike, sending them by magic to Andromeda Tonks who was brewing at several cauldrons in the corner, providing directions to Hermione who stood at her side organizing everything. A wizard Ginny didn't know was stationed there as well, preparing ingredients as they came without instruction.
Bill and Fleur stood by the large hearth, providing basic triage to injured persons as they waited for whatever was being brewed. Judging by the pallor of their faces, she assumed at least one of those potions was a blood replenisher. One wizard cradled a clearly broken hand, probably his wand hand, because his expression was contorted painfully until Fleur came upon him and cast a numbing charm on it.
She and Harry shared a wide-eyed look, neither understanding what had happened, but said nothing as they made their way to the end of the table furthest from the action. Ron was there, laying out more food before sitting tiredly.
"What's going on?" Harry asked immediately. "I thought the attacks happened last night."
"They did," Ron responded. "Things were a bit busier than normal this morning, but it was just people checking in, passing along messages about what they'd found. Ten minutes ago everything went wild. Dedalus Diggle was fire-calling and it sounded like an explosion went off in the background." He cast a wary glance at the chaos around them. "Next thing you know, we're being flooded with injured. Best I can figure, the attack sites were used as traps of some kind. Either they were rigged or there were secondary attacks. Either way…" he trailed off, waving a hand in the direction of the madness.
The weight of what was happening settled over them swiftly. It was dirty and disgusting - laying secondary traps for those who came to aid the injured was a clear attempt to make people too afraid to help. Given who the opposing side was, it wasn't surprising, but still disturbing.
She and Harry shared another look. Beneath the grimness on the surface of his face, she saw the same rage building in him that she felt. Things had taken a turn for the worst, and they couldn't sit by and continue to let it happen. When their time came, they needed to be ready.
They didn't bother helping themselves to what little remained of the food, neither remotely hungry with the new knowledge and feeling it was best saved for the members of the Order. It was clear people would continue to come and go. Within two minutes of sitting down, she saw no less than five people do so, as well as three updates by fire call.
Her mother emerged from the storage room soon thereafter, her alert gaze landing on Ginny almost immediately. "There you are," she said, sweeping toward them.
As she came closer, Ginny saw a fire in her mum's eyes that Ginny had never witnessed before - one of fury boiling just beneath the surface - that was accentuated by the harsh set of her jaw and determined demeanor. She didn't have time to ask before her mother began speaking with purpose. "We need beds. Hogwarts is full with the worst of the injured and anyone who is not privy to the location of Headquarters. Those who can have gone to Saint Mungos. These are the Order members who aren't wounded enough to need Hogwarts, but can't risk the hospital." Ginny's brow rose at that. It seemed like the Order had grown quite a bit since last summer. She didn't have time to think about it as her mother was still speaking. "Can you get Kreacher to open up the second floor at the very least?"
"Of course," Ginny replied quickly.
In less than a minute, the deed was done, though Kreacher had all but begged to keep the drawing room closed off. Given that he had been storing all the Black heirlooms he could find in there, she'd seen no reason to argue on that front. She was about to dismiss him when her mother stopped her.
"We've wiped the storeroom and kitchen of all the basic supplies. Are there any more?" her mother asked Kreacher.
He shook his head, his wrinkly ears flapping as he did so. "Kreacher can purchase the replacements himself if Mistress Ginevra allows it."
"Please," she said, without hesitation. "Do you need my Gringotts key? It's upstairs, but you can take it."
"Take mine," Harry said. "Get as much as you can." The forcefulness in his tone had her looking over at him. The rage was closer to the surface now, and she understood that he needed to do this to feel like he was helping somehow. He didn't wait for Kreacher to acquiesce before turning to her mum and asking, "What can we do to help?"
Ginny nodded at Kreacher before turning to her mother as well.
She paused, glancing about at the activity once more. Bill and Fleur had handled almost all the current injured as best they could. Ron had gone to help Hermione. Even Percy was there now, his head bobbing in and out of the green flames in the hearth, grim-faced as he made various calls and took notes on a piece of parchment beside him. Various others tended to their own jobs, the situation appearing tense, but well-handled.
Casting only a sideways glance, she told them, "There are cots in the attic. Levitate as many as you can fit down and get them set up." She looked at Ginny directly then, "You remember the spell for bedding? For sanitizing and laying out?"
Ginny nodded. It was bad for the fabric, which is why they preferred washing by hand, but her mother always used it when one of them was injured and there was no time to assure they were clean enough to prevent infection.
"Good. Go do that now. I have a feeling Madame Pomfrey may be sending the overflow our way soon."
XXXXXXXXXXX
Hours passed in a frenzied, exhausting blur. Kreacher returned with more supplies than they had hoped for, doubling their original stock of ingredients and tripling their supply of bottled remedies. In the afternoon, Fred and George arrived and joined in with the crew brewing more potions for the next time something like this happened. As cynical as it was, the belief that this would indeed happen again was an unspoken truth between them all. By the time they finished their brewing, Percy was just finishing his task of cataloguing all the injured, missing, and dead. It was a list she wasn't ready to see.
She and Harry had spent the better part of the day helping tend to the worst of the injured staying at Headquarters. It was simple things, like bringing their potions, food, or drink, or even adjusting blankets, but at least bringing people some form of relief felt productive in a way. These people had been injured helping others and deserved to be cared for with as much appreciation as possible.
After a quick dinner of soup and bread, Bill and Fleur found them again in their room. With the rooms on the second floor being taken up by the convalescents, Hermione had been moved to stay in the study with a cot and her parents across the hall from them and into the room that once belonged to Regulus. Percy had even elected to stay, moving into Ron's room in Harry's old space. With the house so full, their room was the most practical place for privacy and they settled in, she and Harry on the edge of their bed while Bill and Floor sat together on the chest.
"I'm sorry about earlier," Bill offered immediately. "I was frustrated, but after what happened… I'm glad we were here," he said, wrapping an arm around Fleur who gave him a tired but proud smile. "And I reckon you're right. Whatever you two are doing with Dumbledore, if it's part of stopping this from happening again, we need to focus on it."
"Thank you," she said, accepting the apology. Tentatively, she said, "Are we supposed to be training first? Because I haven't spoken to Neville in days. He's probably still at his great uncle's place. We can't exactly go there."
"Can we go to the Burrow?" Harry asked. "It seemed safe enough yesterday."
Bil exchanged a look with Fleur. "It probably is, but given everything that's happened today, I don't think that would be wise. Even if only for Mum's peace of mind."
"We do not need to go anywhere," Fleur said. "It is late and has been a long, trying day as it is. That should be enough to allow me to test properly. That is what Dumbledore wanted, to see how far you had progressed in your Occlumency."
"Right," Ginny said, her throat constricting.
If he wanted Fleur to test them, it could only mean that he was getting ready to finally tell them the truth. While that was good - Ginny had all but forced him to do so - it also meant that the time had come to hand over what memories Tom Riddle had left her. She was already uncomfortably aware that they were closer to the surface than usual after today.
Something must have given her away, because Harry placed a hand on her back and began rubbing small circles there. It helped more than she could say. "I'll go first," he volunteered.
"It's fine," she said quickly, leaning forward. "I'd rather get it out of the way."
Harry acquiesced without argument, moving to the side with Bill so as not to interrupt the two women.
The first two attempts Fleur made went well for Ginny, and she managed to keep her out entirely. The third time, Fleur was able to enter her mind quickly, but Ginny pushed her out before she could see anything. The fourth was worse, with Fleur managing to glimpse a few things. The fifth time it all went to hell.
By that attempt, she was completely exhausted and wasn't able to keep Fleur out at all, and the older girl slipped freely into her mind. It wasn't so much a physical space that she could see, but more an expanse that she felt existed without shape, sight, or sound. Despite the lack of sensory input to the place, or perhaps because of it, Fleur's foreign presence was acutely obvious to her.
Allowed free access, Fleur began drifting through her mind, looking at anything and everything that had yet to be tucked away safely. For the most part, it was only the events of the morning. Ginny studiously practice her Occlumency by filing away her memories each night, so someone as unfamiliar with the landscape as Fleur was would need a great deal of time to locate where they had been stored in the blank expanse.
These thoughts and memories, as yet unsorted, were easily found and explored, however. Ginny felt Fleur's curiosity flare as she picked the one of Ginny observing Bill and Fleur tending to the injured in the kitchen that morning. She grimaced as Fleur picked up on the small thread of her thought of the memories she had locked away. The triumphant feelings radiating off Fleur increased Ginny's trepidation. This wasn't how they usually did things.
"Fleur," she called in warning. The older girl's presence didn't stop, however, and kept following the thread deeper and deeper into Ginny's mind and closer to that hidden door. "Fleur," she shouted in warning again. If she hadn't already fought off so many attacks before this, perhaps she could have formed some further defense, but as it was, she was too tired to do more than follow along and try to beat back her rising panic.
It mounted relentlessly until they finally reached the hidden door that radiated darkness. The metaphorical door rattled, those thoughts and memories strengthened by what she had seen that day and more desperate than ever for escape. When Fleur reached out closer to the barricade, Ginny snapped, and the wave of emotion launched them both forcefully from her mind.
Fleur was thrown backward off the chest, but Harry was there preventing Ginny from falling. She squeezed her eyes closed and cradled her head in a fruitless attempt to push back the ringing in her ears and the searing pain in her temples. When Harry's worried questions began to penetrate the fog of discomfort, she tried to sit up. He helped her with gentle movements. As grateful as she was for his help, her first words were not directed at him.
"What the hell was that?" Ginny demanded of Fleur, rising off the bed to her feet. It made her feel more in control, even though her head swam dizzily and she trembled at the outrage she felt..
Fleur looked much worse off than Ginny would have expected. Bill appeared to be holding her upright where she sat. Despite the pain she must have been in, her voice was calm. "Dumbledore asked me to check your defenses and assess your ability to hide things. I needed to know if that door was just for show or if it would serve as actual resistance. Clearly, it was the latter."
"Dumbledore asked you to invade her privacy?" Harry asked angrily, stepping forward slightly. The look he was giving Fleur was icy, and Ginny was grateful that he didn't need to ask questions to understand that the other girl had crossed a line.
"Relax," Bill ordered, coming to his fiancee's defense. "Testing your limits is what she's supposed to be doing as your tutor."
"That does not happen with a simple test," Harry retorted, his jaw tight with tension. "That only happens when someone is pushed too far and they are protecting themselves. Don't try to tell me that was the same thing we've been doing. I had to deal with Snape. I know exactly what an attack looks like."
"The whole point of this is to be able to defend yourselves from that kind of attack," Fleur said. She tried to continue, but Ginny had heard enough.
"Get out," she interrupted as she sat back down. The anger had drained away in the struggle that was her weak mind trying to keep the memories from escaping their prison. She was too exhausted to deal with any of it.
"Excuse me?" Bill asked, affronted.
She couldn't answer this time, closing her eyes to focus on beating back the thoughts and the pain alike.
"You heard her," Harry said from closer than before. His hands slipped over her shoulders and she knew he must have positioned himself behind her in a show of solidarity. "Go."
She heard Fleur murmur something before their footsteps retreated and the door clicked close. Relieved to be free of them, she allowed herself to let out a groan as she fell backwards onto the inviting bed.
The mattress dipped beneath her as Harry joined her. The movement increased the pain and made her feel slightly nauseous, but her grunt of discomfort turned into a moan as he slipped his fingers into her hair and began massaging her scalp. He didn't speak until she opened her eyes once more.
There was anger there, but predominantly worry and concern for her. It immediately helped chase away the pain, confusion and anger that still lingered.
"I'm alright," she said softly. "Thank you."
Some of the worry faded and he gave her a smile than didn't quite reach his eyes. It fell quickly, replaced by conflict. "What happened exactly?"
She gingerly sat, grateful for his help as he guided her shoulders up. A moment later, she realized sitting wasn't wise as a shooting pain in her temple erupted once she was fully upright. Harry didn't miss her wince and scooted to the head of the bed. She went willingly to his side when he lifted an arm and motioned for her to join him. His fingers resumed rubbing at her temples until she relaxed again.
When she felt better, she answered his earlier question. "Fleur was just… digging into the deepest parts of my mind. The parts I keep locked away, even from myself." A shiver went through her as the door in her mind rattled again, recognizing how close she was to thinking about those dark memories. "She's never done that before."
"You know," he began thoughtfully after a few moments hesitation, "we never got around to talking about the memories that Dumbledore asked you for."
Her heart sped up again. Of course Harry would understand what that meant. Only his gentle ministrations prevented her from freezing entirely. She still couldn't bring herself to speak though. There was a reason she hadn't brought it up. She didn't want to talk about it. Not until the absolute last possible moment.
"I know we were busy… and that you probably don't want to," he said gently, "but it may help. You can tell me anything, as little or as much as you want."
She closed her eyes and sucked in a breath, holding it for several long seconds before blowing it out. Maybe he was right. She knew she could tell him anything, just as she knew that she wasn't ready to look at them again. She decided to settle for the basics. He waited patiently, his fingers continuing to soothe the ache.
"I - I told you that I remembered things, after." She felt his nod. "Before that, I didn't remember any of the possessions, just the things he wanted me to know." She scowled in disgust at herself. "But none of it was the way he made it seem. It was just a bunch of bits and pieces taken out of context to make me believe what he wanted me to believe."
Harry hummed in agreement. "Like when he showed me him catching Hagrid."
She flinched. The conversation between Tom and Harry in the Chamber had come back to her in her nightmares as well the summer following the incident. "I'm sorry. I should have taken it back from you sooner," she said regretfully.
The hand in her hair froze, while the either tightened its grasp around hers. "No," he said forcefully. She could hear his teeth grind together before he relaxed and said slowly, "No. You shouldn't have had that horrible thing as long as you did. Definitely not for longer. I was fine." He didn't give her a chance to respond before prodding, "So you didn't remember anything before the diary was destroyed?"
She sighed. "Not from before the Chamber." That morning she had finally worked up the courage to do something about the diary. She couldn't seem to form the words in front of anyone, but she thought she could at least leave it for Dumbledore with a note saying it was evil. Unfortunately for her, she and Tom had become so intertwined by then that he could read her intentions without being told and decided she had outlived her usefulness.
Gathering her courage, she voiced for the first time the events that led her into that horrible place she was sure she was going to die in.
"He knew I was going to give him away, so he took over. He must have wanted me to know that he was beating me though, because I was awake the whole time, just a spectator in my own body while he pulled the strings. He explained everything, like he did with you, drawing it out. He… he enjoys others' fear and despair." She shivered. He more than enjoyed it. He almost fed off of it. "He showed me things then and told me that caring was a weakness. That it was what would kill me and what would kill you too."
Harry squeezed her shoulder in comfort. He dropped a kiss on the top of her hair and she felt his breath saturate the roots there as he spoke. "It didn't though. We're still here and he isn't."
"No, but I never completely got rid of him. We were so tangled together by the time you destroyed the diary that I have these bits and flashes of memories that belonged to him. The ones that were most important to him, I think."
He let that settle for a few minutes, doing nothing more than being attentive. She was grateful that he didn't try to apologize for once.
"Thank you," she said after a long period of silence, "for letting me work through that and not pushing."
"Anytime, Gin. I'll always be here if you need me."
She snuggled further into his embrace, reassured by the warmth in his voice.
XXXXXXXXXX
Dumbledore arrived shortly after that. Despite the late hour, it was still far too soon for Ginny's liking.
He looked as tired and defeated as nearly everyone else, but he gave them a brief smile in greeting as Kreacher led him into their room.
As selfish as it was, Ginny was already tired of having other people in their space. Not that she resented any of the victims in residence for being there, just that she wished she could have the study again so that she could keep their room private. It was theirs, the one place the rest of the world didn't intrude upon - at least until today. She swallowed the bitterness down, however, and greeted the man as kindly as she could.
Dumbledore looked about briefly before conjuring himself a plush chair. She could visibly see the relief on his face as he sat. "Forgive me, children. I am not as young as I once was and these old joints do not sustain abuse in the same manner they once did."
Ginny nodded once in acknowledgement, her mounting nerves not allowing much else. Harry picked up her slack and responded for both of them. "It's no problem, sir."
"Thank you for your absolution," he said with only a hint of his usual humor before his expression faded back into sober lines. "I hope you will be as understanding about my desire to solely discuss my reason for coming tonight and my inability to answer any questions you may have about what happened earlier today. All I have to say on the matter is that I'm very proud of all that you did to support our allies. Your hospitality and generosity helped more people than I can say, but there is still much for me to do before the night is through."
She and Harry shared a look, but nodded in agreement simultaneously. The influx of injured that had been through Grimmauld place had been mad enough, and they both knew Hogwarts had seen even worse. Dumbledore likely had other things to attend to as well.
"My primary objective tonight is to discuss the memories you have, Miss Black," he said in a no-nonsense tone. "However, the first order of business to attend to is your Occlumency. Miss Delacour has explained to me what happened earlier. I was rather impressed to find you were capable of protecting parts of your mind so effectively." Ginny had to bite her tongue to keep from snapping at him. It simply wasn't worth it right now. "But it seems, Harry, that you have yet to be thoroughly tested as well. Since you are no longer interested in continuing your sessions with Miss Delacour, I would like to assess your progress now, if that is agreeable to you."
Harry's expression was tinted with anger, but he nodded and allowed Dumbledore to cast the spell. It was only moments later that the headmaster withdrew from his mind, though she doubted it was because Harry had repelled him. The defiant look on his face told her that as plainly as if he had said it himself.
"While your feelings may be justified, that is hardly a fair accusation," Dumbledore said evenly. "Miss Delacour did exactly what she was meant to. She tested your defenses and assessed strengths and weaknesses. I did not, nor would I, give her instructions to search for anything in particular." He gave them a direct look. "It was not my intention to cause a rift between you. To do so would be contradictory to what I have always sought to achieve - unity. We are all on the same side and we must remain united if we are to win this war."
Some anger still lingered at the violation Fleur had committed earlier, but she didn't doubt his sincerity in this. Dumbledore had always encouraged unity amongst the students at Hogwarts, and she knew he truly did want them to defeat Voldemort. He wouldn't have intentionally done anything to jeopardize their success.
Resigned, she linked her fingers with Harry's. "We understand, sir," she said calmly, squeezing Harry's hand in encouragement. She felt him relax before he nodded in agreement.
"Should we go again, Professor?" Harry asked.
Dumbledore agreed and performed the spell again, this time with Harry's focus on the task. It seemed to take quite a bit of effort on Harry's part - his hand was gripping hers painfully by the end and she fancied she could feel him using all his magic to keep the headmaster out - but he managed. When they broke apart, Dumbledore looked suitably pleased.
"Well done, Harry." Pride suffused his tone. "While you still have room for improvement, you have done remarkably well in a short period of time, especially given your previous struggles with the subject."
"Thank you, sir." Harry looked so pleased at the praise that Ginny was almost distracted from what was to come next. Almost.
Dumbledore's blue eyes turned to her and all hope for levity vanished.
She didn't wait for him to explain. She already knew and there was no sense dragging it out. "What do I do?" She considered it a small victory that her words sounded much braver than she felt.
He gave her a sympathetic look. "What I would like for you to do is simple. Close your eyes and focus on your mind." She forced herself to listen to his instructions. The sooner you do this, the sooner it will end, and the closer you'll be to having answers, she encouraged herself. "Very good. Now find the place where the memories are kept and pull them out one by one, if you can. I will remove a copy of each as you do so."
Doing what she had been told, she retreated into the familiar space that represented her mind. She opened the door as cautiously as possible, praying she could keep the demons that lurked behind it under control if she only allowed a small crack through which they could escape. She was not so lucky.
Given the small measure of freedom, the memories burst forth from the room with a force she hadn't fully anticipated. They were a flood of darkness, threatening to drown her in twisted visions and malicious thoughts that were not her own.
The process of extracting the memories helped create a sense of distance between her and them that allowed her to breath, but it wasn't fast enough to suppress the trauma from resurfacing. The shadow of each one still remained behind, leaving her caught in the current of wave after wave of shadowy images and brief glimpses of things no eleven year old should ever bear witness to.
There were children younger than even she was being tortured, morbid fascination as Myrtle fell dead under the basilisk's gaze, a family of well-dressed muggles dead at the feet of Tom Riddle, a haggard and mad looking wizard staring up at Tom's cold face in shock and outrage, her own abduction and near death, as well as Harry's, and so many more that her mind couldn't even process.
She wanted to, at least for the sole reason that she didn't want to risk having to go through this again if she did it wrong, but her entire being shied away from the tide instinctively.
Through the overwhelming panic she felt at what was happening, she still managed to recognize Dumbledore's presence when he joined her and she welcomed it with every fiber of her being. She felt his shock as he sensed what she had kept hidden for so long, but he quickly did whatever it was that needed to be done and pulled them both from her mind.
She came back to herself shivering in Harry's arms and tears streaming down her face. Her skin was crawling.
With jerky movements, she pried herself away from him and slid to the floor, putting some distance between them. She stared at the pale skin of her hands, not understanding how they weren't stained black. She heard Harry's voice, but couldn't look at him. Then she heard Dumbledore speaking and shuffling feet. Vague words reached her… "ordeal", "damage", "rest" and "alone" stuck out, the rest blurring into a buzz that didn't make sense.
Then the door clicked shut and silence reigned.
It was good that they'd left, she tried to believe. As much as she loved being with Harry, she didn't want him to look at - or touch - her. She was dirty. Contaminated.
XXXXXXXXXX
Some meaningless minutes or seconds passed that she couldn't track. When she finally gained some measure or control, she was digging under her nails again and watching the way the blood bloomed underneath.
It was a fresh, bright red, not the dirty black of the Chamber.
That was good. It was proof that she wasn't there again. She kept her eyes wide open, refusing to blink. Focusing like this kept her present. She could do this.
"Gin," Harry said softly. She hadn't noticed him. "Gin, look at me," he said again when she didn't respond. "Please."
She just barely managed to tear her eyes away from her hands, and it was solely due to the pleading in his voice that she succeeded at all. Even in this state, as a mere shadow of herself, she couldn't resist helping him when he sounded so distraught. He was sitting across the room with his back against the closed door. His expression was anguished.
Had he been there the whole time?
When her eyes made contact with his, he thawed and slowly moved until just in front of her, hands hovering as if afraid to make contact. She tried to summon some kind of emotion - anything reassuring enough to wipe the worried look from his face - but then he was moving to touch her, and she couldn't handle it.
His bright green eyes had grounded her and made her feel some semblance of who she really was, and she needed that. She feared she might forget again if she drifted too far away from it. She couldn't be away from him, she decided. Not yet.
He was the only thing real and solid in the chaos that clouded her mind now. She knew if she could just focus, that she'd be able to feel him again. After everything they'd been through, he was a part of her. She just needed to be able to find herself first.
"I - I need a shower," she said desperately. In other circumstances, she might have cursed herself for sounding so weak. Right now, all she felt was dirty.
Harry looked troubled, like he wanted to argue, but then his gaze raked over her again and he nodded. "That's fine. I'll be waiting, as soon as you're done, alright?" He was trying to be comforting, but it wasn't enough.
"Could you," she swallowed to wet her dry throat. "Could you come in with me? Not in in. Just… just to sit?"
The relief that bloomed across his face spared Ginny from feeling self-conscious and gave her the courage to take his extended hand when he offered to help her up. She withdrew it quickly, feeling guilty at the flash of pain that he showed when she did so, but refusing to give in to the urge to touch him right now. She would make up for it later, after she was clean.
Harry dutifully followed her to the loo, not commenting on the shaky way she walked or any of her behavior. He even refrained from helping her when she stumbled. She was immensely grateful that he was so willing to respect her boundaries.
He only once hesitated, pausing on the threshold when they reached the loo. She couldn't bring herself to say anything about it. If he didn't move from that spot, she'd still be able to see him if she looked beyond the curtain. That would be enough.
She turned on the water and stepped into the tub mechanically, not bothering to remove her clothes first. They were dirty too, after all. The water was cold at first, but she didn't recoil, letting it wash over her as it warmed until it felt like it was burning her skin.
Grateful for the heat, she slowly stripped her wet clothing until she was bare and submerged her head under the spray. She turned her face upward, allowing the clean water to cover her completely until she ran out of breath and had to withdraw. The continuous rhythm as the stream hit her skin and flowed down to the bottom of the tub in a clear puddle reassured her. The familiar scent of her shampoo as she lathered it helped even more, especially after the second and third washings.
But then the shampoo bottle ran out, and she still didn't feel clean.
She tried to remain calm, but her voice still shook. "Harry?"
"I'm here, Gin," he replied immediately. Some of the tightness in her chest loosened at the sound of his voice and she clung to the lifeline it provided. "What do you need?"
"I'm out of shampoo," she said weakly. She now felt enough of herself to be embarrassed by the request she was about to make - there was no way he hadn't heard her frantically scrubbing the suds into her hair or had missed the scent of the steam billowing over the curtain and saturating the air - but she was still detached enough to carry on. "Is there another bottle in the cabinet?"
She heard his footsteps on the tile floor as he walked deeper into the small room. Knowing he was close made her feel better.
"I'm sorry," he said. Even the disappointment at his negative response was meaningless, because he was there. If she could feel him, she could feel herself too. She clung to the thought. She wanted to be herself again. He continued unaware of her thoughts, "You can use mine, if you want."
She didn't hesitate to slip her hand out the curtain for it. His fingers brushed hers as he passed her the bottle without comment. They were cool by comparison, but the contact still sent a wave of warmth through her that even the heated water couldn't achieve.
Quickly uncapping the bottle, she poured a generous amount into her palm. His familiar scent immediately permeated the steamy air, and a wave of comfort so strong that it made her feel weak in the knees swept over her. Not bothering to fight it, she sank to the bottom of the tub. She hadn't realized how tense or tired her muscles had been until then.
With Harry's scent wafting around her and the longing she felt to hear his voice once more, she felt motivated to say something finally. "I'm sorry about all this… that I keep being so weak."
"You're not weak," he said immediately, his voice emanating from just outside the curtain. More warmth unfurled at his proximity. "You're one of the strongest, bravest people I know."
The earnest tone with which he spoke wore down her defenses and the shock began to fade. Desperation still clung to her however, as did sadness that she wasn't what he thought. She was falling to pieces over memories that she'd had for years, for Godric's sake!
He didn't need to see her to understand where her thoughts had taken her, and the small thread of him she'd been clinging to seemed to grow beneath her grasp, turning into a solid rope as she listened to his next words.
"You've always been amazing, Gin," he said, the words gentle and saturated with something akin to awe. "The first time I saw you, you were begging your mum to let you go to Hogwarts with your brothers. You were just this small thing then, but you ran the whole length of the train and laughed through the tears."
The memory played in her mind as he spoke, and she welcomed the purity of it. She really was just a little girl, saddened to be left behind while all her brothers went off to school and disappointed not to have met her childhood hero. Life had been so simple then, untouched by darkness or despair, and it gave her access to a version of herself that she had sorely missed all these years. It allowed her to crack a small smile.
"I'd forgotten about that part." She sniffled and then sighed in disgust at herself. "How in Merlin's name do you stand me with all this crying?"
"Stop it," he scolded lightly. "Given everything I've seen you go through, I'm amazed at how rarely I've seen you cry actually." He paused before adding, "I've always loved that memory though. I remember wishing you had been doing it for me."
She realized with a shock that Harry had to have been watching her specifically for him to remember it so clearly. She tried to picture it, the scrawny child he had been peeking out the window and watching her display through his broken glasses. Her heart accelerated, the feeling of warmth, comfort and love that she associated with him grew in her chest until she could feel the part of him inside her like a tangible thing. The desperation faded away.
A thought occurred to her and she spoke without thinking. "It's a good thing I wasn't," she said, an unexpected laugh escaping her, "or you and I would have a whole new set of issues to complicate this relationship."
He barked a laugh that sounded equal parts shocked and relieved.
In the beat that followed, Ginny finally realized that she was sitting in the shower naked. With Harry just on the other side of the curtain. Because she had asked him to.
Had her whole body not already been red from her extended bathing and scrubbing, her cheeks may have flushed darker in that moment than in any other of her life. Even the singing valentine hadn't been as mortifying as this situation.
Harry didn't seem to mind it. "I mean it, Gin. You're amazing. Like the summer before my second year...you were so nervous around me." He chuckled good naturedly, but she cringed. Listening to the way he spoke about her was enthralling, but she couldn't understand how that memory proved she was amazing. "You refused to even talk to me, but the second Malfoy came after me, you didn't hesitate to come to my defense, even though he was bigger and stronger than you."
"He was a ponce," she responded in spite of herself. "There's nothing scary about that. Fred and George are far more devious than he could ever dream of."
This time he laughed fully, a bright, robust sound that filled the entire room. "That's exactly what I'm talking about. You're so… fierce. Unless you have a good reason, you refuse to back down."
"That's just a Weasley trait," she dismissed.
"You might be right about that," he said thoughtfully. "Like that time at the Quidditch World Cup, when Fred and George found that spider and tried to pay Ron to eat it. You got right up and accepted. Didn't look phased in the slightest."
She did remember. The twins had found a spider hanging by a web in the corner of the tent and captured the poor thing. They'd offered him five galleons to eat it. When he turned them down, they made the offer to the rest of the room and she hadn't hesitated. Of course, she hadn't actually eaten the poor thing, just artfully slipped it into her sleeve and then released it outside when she had pretended to be sick.
Her laughter came more freely this time, assisted by the awareness that even in dark times, there was happiness and joy to be found.
"I've never been afraid of spiders either, but even I didn't want to do it," Harry said, still chuckling as well.
She couldn't contain more laughter from escaping and finally told him the truth. "I didn't even eat it," she said, explaining her sleight of hand trick. "Their expressions were priceless though. I laughed for days every time I thought about it."
"I love that about you. Your sense of humor."
His genuine admiration finally gave her the courage to stand and shut off the water. She didn't have to ask him for a towel before she heard him cast Wingardium leviosa and a towel suddenly floated over the curtain and within reach. She wrapped it around her securely before carefully stepping out.
Harry was already waiting with a bathrobe held up between them, simultaneously blocking his view and offering to help her slide it on. He released it when she gave a quick tug - honestly, he was far too tall for her to slip into it like that - and she put it on quickly. Only after tied the sash in a tight knot did she risk turning around to gauge his expression for the first time since she'd come back to herself.
He was staring at the floor, a slight blush on his face. Unsure how to begin, she cleared her throat to get him to look up. The first thing she saw was concern, but there was hope too.
"Feeling any better?" he asked hesitantly. His hand reached out to touch her before he pulled it back and rubbed his neck instead.
The familiar gesture made her feel a bit more even keeled, and she stepped forward. Relief washed over his features as he met her halfway and wrapped his arms around her, apparently unaffected by her wet tresses soaking through his shirt.
"Thank you," she whispered. "For being here, for distracting me, for reminding me of the good… for everything really." She sighed against his chest. "It feels like you're always taking care of me."
"You take care of me too, you know. All the time." The gratitude in his tone was impossible to miss, but couldn't contain her huff of disbelief. He never fell to pieces and made her put him back together, not like she did. "You do," he insisted. "You pull me back from the edge, make me see reason, keep me focused, give me something to…" he trailed off and shook his head, cheeks slightly pink. "I don't thank you enough for all that."
He kissed her forehead tenderly, but then frowned as he pulled back and tried to lead her from the loo. She resisted the gentle pressure he was applying to her back - a flash of irrational fear shooting through her at his expression. The feeling that she was still dirty was materializing and her hand went to feel the wet strands that draped over her shoulder, searching for anything that could be amiss.
He must have recognized the signs, because he gently reached out and pulled her hand down, taking both of hers in his. He held their conjoined hands between them and looked her seriously in the eye. "Hey, hey. Everything is fine. There's nothing wrong with your hair." A cheeky grin lifted his features. "I was just thinking that we need to get you some more shampoo. I'm happy to have you to go around smelling like me, but I love the smell of your hair." He pulled back and gently guided her again, this time without protest from her. "I always have, you know. Even when we were kids. Of course, I didn't realize that it was you until I had a dream…"
He took her back to their room as he told the story. She listened in awe as he dried her hair using the charm she had taught him and told story after story from their early years. Memories they shared, instances he'd noticed her when she hadn't realized it, and even his thoughts on the stories her brothers had told him about her. One by one, they took up residence in her mind and forced the shadows back until all she felt was light.
XXXXXXXXXX
Despite how much Harry had helped her earlier, Ginny still couldn't settle that night. It was different now, the shadows felt closer in the dark of night and the wounds - though healing thanks to Harry - were still raw and irritated.
Every little noise in the old house made her flinch, despite knowing that they were magically protected on numerous levels. Even the fact that Harry was beside her and that her parents were just across the hall should they need anything didn't provide enough comfort for her to rest.
Harry wasn't able to sleep either and she felt horrible that her twitchiness was keeping him awake.
"I'm sorry," she said weakly. "I can go downstairs if you want."
"No." The arm her head rested on wrapped around her and pulled her closer to him, his other hand brushing a stray piece of hair out of her face. Even in the darkness of the room, she could see the concern in his features.
Relief swelled, but she tried to tamp it down. "It was a long day. You need some rest," she argued feebly.
"I need it less than you," he replied, sitting up and lighting the lamp. He set a pillow behind him against the headboard, leaned back, and patted his lap. "Lay down here."
She hesitated only briefly before moving her pillow and resting her head there. His hand immediately went to her hair as he had done earlier that day and she felt herself relax little by little. He kept his wand firmly pointed at the open doorway in his other hand.
"Go to sleep, Gin. I've got you."
She wanted to argue that it wasn't necessary - that she would buckle down and get control of herself - but with the light on and Harry taking care of her, she really did feel so much better. Admitting defeat, she thanked him before falling asleep shortly thereafter. For a while, she floated through a blank, soft place in which no thoughts plagued her, only comfort. It was peaceful, until it wasn't.
She was in a cave she recognized despite having never physically been in before. A young boy with smooth black hair stood on the bank of the lake hidden in the natural structure, eyeing the water with cold calculation. Fear prickled up her spine and goosebumps rose on her skin as she watched a plan form behind his malicious gaze.
Her dread only increased as she heard the voices of two other children approaching. She knew how this ended, and she had no desire to watch it once more. Her feet were frozen in place however, her head refusing to turn away and her voice silent even as she tried to shout at the children to run.
The boy's cheeks lifted in a perverse smile, the depraved hunger in his eyes turning the expression into something sinister. Fully dressed, he took a purposeful step into the dark waters, and then another and another, until he was deep enough that his mouth just barely cleared the surface of the water. Once in place, his expression morphed into a believable expression of fear and called out in a desperate tone, "Help! Someone help!"
The slightly older boy and smaller girl came running, just as he had known they would. He flailed his arms, water splashing into his mouth that he had to spit out in order to breath enhancing the effect of his ruse. To their credit, the group of children did pause at the bank when they realized who was waiting in the water.
"Do you really need help, Riddle?" Dennis Bishop called out, his arm protectively placed in front of little Amy Benson. "Or is this just another one of your tricks?"
Ginny felt sick. The first time she had witnessed this scene, it had started at this point, with young Tom Riddle unable to swim and begging for help while the other children ignored his pleas and questioned his honesty. How foolish she had been back then, believing that Tom had been an overlooked and ridiculed victim in his youth. This was the scene that taught her single moments were meaningless without context. By the time she was shown the truth about this particular instance, it was too late and Tom had sunk his claws so far into her that there was no shaking him off.
"Please," he shouted in distress, coughing up water after slipping under momentarily. "I'm stuck! There's some kind of mud and I'm sinking!"
The children shared an uncertain look. Amy asked in a small voice, "Maybe we should go get Mrs. Cole? She should be able to help."
Tom let out half a panicked scream for help before slipping under the water and not resurfacing. Dennis jumped into action, reservations forgotten, and held onto Amy's hand, her feet remaining on dry land while the he waded out into the water after him. Neither would-be rescuer saw the evil smirk that crossed his face, but Ginny did.
Having already seen the exchange before didn't make seeing it again now any easier.
Young Tom had been practicing manipulating his magic, trying to bend it to his will, and had reached the conclusion that it only responded to his strongest emotions. Ginny knew from their previous discussions that in this instance, his hatred of the insipid children before him teamed with his perverse enjoyment of having control of them was enough to allow him to use his magic to pull them off the bank and into the muddy waters. Their own shouts of panic as they tried to escape lit his expression with a malicious glee and allowed him greater control. He used it to manipulate the soft ground beneath their feet into a trap of sorts, one that pulled them deeper and refused to release them until he was ready. Their desperate cries and sobbing only served to increase his sadistic pleasure.
She was powerless to stop it as he forced them to hold each other under water until they were on the brink of drowning. Little Amy held Dennis down with a force her small frame shouldn't have been able to possess, but Tom's magic ran through her with a force that refused to be denied.
It was far too like Ginny's own experiences and she felt a deep pain as she watched the little girl's horror at her own actions until Tom finally released her. The expression of horror didn't fade in the slightest when she was finally freed, but shifted into something broken. Ginny knew that feeling too well
Even though he hadn't done permanent physical damage, the two children would never be the same. Tom Riddle didn't think about things like that, however. All he knew was that he couldn't go so far as to have them kill each other. He'd never be able to explain that away. As it stood, he was pushing the limit of what he could hope to say was an accident.
Not that he thought they'd be willing to talk after this. Even if they were foolish enough to, who would believe in magic? Or so he had told her, his voice dripping with disgust as he spoke about the 'weak muggles'. He looked down upon them with disdain as he watched them shakily climb out of the water with traumatized looks on their faces when it was all said and done.
"Compassion is a weakness, Ginevra," a voice that made her skin crawl hissed from over her shoulder. The invisible bonds locking her in place retreated and she quickly turned to face the sixteen-year-old version of Tom Riddle standing behind her. His hand was around her throat as quick as a snake strikes. "You would do well to remember that. In the end, it won't save either of you."
She tried not to panic and remain limp. This had already happened before, many years ago when Tom still lived in her head. If she could just remember that, she could free herself from the memory of it now.
Then he squeezed, each of his long, cold fingers tightening until she could feel even the metal of his ring constricting her airway. Panic gripped her. It shouldn't feel this real, she thought desperately.
Already, her body felt heavy from the lack of oxygen and her vision blurred. The tears weren't enough to obscure the view of Harry behind him, his lips blue and eyes glassy with death.
She woke from the nightmare with a gasp, jolting upright as her hand went to her throat. Familiar surroundings came into view as she frantically looked around herself. Comforted, she took a breath to steady her racing heart.
Her exposed shoulder felt cold in the air, but the bed was soft beneath her. Turning back, she saw Harry beside her just like he was supposed to be. He had fallen asleep sitting up. One hand was open palm-up, obviously having fallen from her shoulder when she sat, and the other still clutched his wand, standing guard just as he had promised when she fell asleep.
She breathed a sigh of relief at the steady rise and fall of his chest. Careful not to disturb him, she slipped quietly from the bed and out into the hall.. Even in sleep, he looked exhausted, and she had no desire to wake him over this. She couldn't ask him to keep being strong for her.
Out in the hallway, she paused. Normally, she'd slip down to the kitchen for a cup of tea after a nightmare like this. There were still a number of injured Order members on the second floor, however, and she didn't want to disturb them either. Not over something so foolish as a nightmare.
They're just memories! She screamed internally, desperately trying to hold back tears. Old, old memories. Not even the worst of them. Don't let him get to you. Not now. Not after so long. The desperate words she told herself made no difference as she slid to the floor and let the tears come.
She felt like she was eleven again, facing a wizard older and far stronger than herself and powerless to stop him.
That was the crux of it, wasn't it? She stood no chance of defeating Voldemort and she hated it with a burning passion that hurt to acknowledge. That responsibility rested on Harry's shoulders alone, no matter how much she wished she could bear that weight for him.
"Ginny?" her mother said softly, stepping out of the room that used to belong to Regulus. "Oh Ginny dear," she breathed, catching sight of the tears that had leaked out of Ginny's eyes. She sat down on the floor beside Ginny, pulling her into a comforting embrace and stroking her hair. "I know today was hard, my girl. I wish you didn't have to see that side of the war."
"It's not that," Ginny whispered with a sniffle.
Her mum paused. "Did something happen with Harry? I thought it odd that you'd be out here instead of with him."
"No," she said quickly and perhaps a bit too loudly. She lowered her voice. "No. It's not Harry. I mean, it is, but it's not his fault." She took a calming breath. "It's just so unfair to him… all that he's expected to do."
"I know, dear," her mum replied sadly. "You're both still so young…" She blew out a breath, and Ginny got the impression she was calming herself. "Sometimes that's just how it is. The war won't be kind to you because of your age. But Harry is brave and capable. He'll do everything he can."
"I know that," Ginny said, another traitorous tear falling. "That's what I'm afraid of Mum. He'll do whatever it takes. Even if it means he doesn't survive."
"Everything will be alright, Ginny," her mother replied soothingly. "You'll see. For now, all we can do is be there for him."
"I will be," she answered fiercely, the idea of her not being there for him waking up the stronger part of her that wanted nothing more than to fight. "I'd never let him face it on his own."
"I know you wouldn't," Harry's sleepy voice came from the doorway he had suddenly appeared in. "What are you doing out here?"
"I didn't want to wake you," she said, feeling guilty at his exhausted and confused appearance. "You didn't look like you'd gotten much rest."
He shook his head and held out a hand to help her up. She took it willingly enough, stepping into his open arms as soon as she had made it to her feet. Even though she hadn't wanted to disturb him before, she was exceedingly grateful that he was awake now. There was an undeniable comfort Harry gave her that even her mother couldn't rival.
"Well," her mum said from behind her. Ginny bit her lip guiltily, having forgotten she was there. Harry appeared to have forgotten as well and was obviously on the verge of apologizing when her mum continued with a warm tone, "now that I know you two are fine, I'm going to go check on things downstairs before going back to bed. Goodnight."
She and Harry both offered their own partings before Harry guided her back to bed with his arm around her waist. Once settled in their usual spots, he turned to her and pulled her flush against him in a way that made her sigh with relief.
This is home, she thought. He had been the one to bring her back to herself when she had been lost earlier, and it wasn't for the first time. Love for him and everything he did for her swelled in her chest as she thought about it, and she placed a kiss just over his heart in a silent expression of how much he meant to her. The overwhelming truth that everything would be alright as long as she could come back to his side each night allowed her to finally breathe easily.