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"Gin?" said Harry tentatively. "What did you mean yesterday when you said that you thought Bonnie was Malfoy's?"

Ron stopped chewing and Ginny paled so much, Harry thought she might faint; she actually swayed a little in her chair and she had to put her head down on her folded arms. Ron put his sandwich down and stared at his sister's vulnerable back; she didn't seem to be able to articulate any words.

"Yeah, Ginny...what did you mean by that?"

Both Harry and Ron held their breath waiting for what they both knew was going to be another horrifying revelation; Ginny's words, in retrospect, could really only mean one thing.

Without lifting her head—she was incapable of doing just that—Ginny mumbled into her folded arms. "His plan wasn't just for his own revenge and gratification...he shared his prize with his two bookends: Crabbe and Goyle."

Finding Ginny: CH 13

Harry and Ron remained seated at the kitchen table after Ginny, pleading a headache, took herself off to bed. The uneaten sandwiches were beginning to dry out; they were destined for the rubbish bin as both men's appetites were nonexistent.

It was Ron who broke the silence when he snarled, "If I could, I'd kill the bastards."

Harry shut his eyes, and after taking his glasses off, ran a heavy hand down his face, leaving it covering his mouth, as if he was afraid of what might spew forth. He was so bloody angry, he felt like punching the wall. He could feel the same fury emanating from Ron; the air was thick with violent emotions.

After a minute of turbulent silence, Harry said, "It's just as well both Crabbe and Goyle are dead then, I don't have to worry about you being put up on a murder charge."

"Ron glared at his friend. "Don't tell me you wouldn't take pleasure in doing the deed."

"Oh, yeah," Harry agreed. "That's why I'm glad they're dead! I don't want to be up on a murder charge either. Justice has been served."

"Bullshit! If there was any justice, they'd still be alive so I could dispose of their scummy hides myself. Fiendfyre was too quick. And it seems as if the other moron got himself hit by one of his Death Eater mates casting the Killing Curse, and missing his intended target."

"That's what they say," said Harry wearily.

"Yeah...well, that was too bloody quick too."

"But final and irrevocable," said Harry, putting his glasses back on.

Ron's eyes narrowed. "But Malfoy's still skulking around," he said through gritted teeth.

"Yes, Ron, somewhere in Australia." Harry could have kicked himself. He shouldn't have said anything about the Malfoys and their ultimate fate.

Ron raised his eyebrows. "How do you know that? I didn't hear that the scum had been deported."

"You forget, Ron, I was training to be an Auror and we are informed about these things. And you wouldn't have heard because it wasn't public knowledge."

"Then why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you know I wasn't allowed to discuss work with you."

"But you left the Aurors over twelve months ago. You could have told me anytime since then."

"You know that's not true, Ron. When an employee of the MLE leaves, they can't just start blabbing about anything and everything they learned while on the job. That would sort of undermine security, don't you think? Besides, up until all of this business, I'm pleased to say that the Malfoys had hardly crossed my thoughts at all."

Ron rubbed his untidy hair vigorously. "So, what? Did the Ministry give Draco and Daddy a choice between prison or Australia?"

Harry sighed. "Something like that. They decided they'd be better off over there. It was either move to Australia with some strict conditions and most of their remaining fortune, or Lucius would end up back in Azkaban to finish the sentence that was interrupted by Voldemort breaking him out. Draco would have also been under sentence, but at least he would have been under house arrest, unable to leave his house or grounds for the first two years following his conviction, and after that, only with permission from the head of MLE.

"The family opted to move to Australia where the terms for their freedom were more liberal, even though all their movements are tracked and they aren't allowed to leave the country at all. The Australian Ministry of Magic is in charge of the security surrounding the Malfoys, but they liaise closely with our Ministry. Kingsley is given monthly reports on Lucius and Draco."

Harry fell silent, his gaze far away. Ron waved a hand in front of his face. "Earth to Harry." Harry blinked and refocused, though Ron couldn't help but notice that he looked less than happy. "Don't tell me you feel sorry for them, Harry," he said with a return of his anger. "The three of them are nothing but scum."

"No, I don't feel sorry for them, and most especially now, after learning what Draco did to Ginny. He's certainly a chip off Daddy's block, that's for sure. But Narcissa did save my life, Ron. I can't help but wonder what she did to deserve to be married to Lucius, and how unlucky she was to produce a perfect clone of him." Harry rubbed his temple with rigid fingertips; he was brewing a headache of epic proportions.

"Sirius didn't like her," said Ron, unaware of Harry's escalating pain. "Didn't he say the only decent one of the sisters was Andromeda?"

Harry nodded but stopped the movement when the pain in his head ratcheted up a notch. "Yeah, he did. She was his favourite cousin. Still, Narcissa was nothing like Bellatrix or Lucius."

"I'm not so sure," disagreed Ron. "She didn't try to help us when we were at Malfoy Manor; in fact, she was just as eager to hand us over to Voldemort as her dear husband." Ron stopped for a moment, his thoughts back in that room in the Malfoy's home. "It was actually Draco who put the brakes on summoning Voldemort that time, by pretending he didn't recognise you."

"I don't know what Draco's motivation was there, because he was more than eager to capture us in the Room of Requirement to hand over to Voldemort later. As for Narcissa... she was just trying to protect her son. What mother would have done less?" said Harry dully.

Ron shrugged but then he went very still. He shut his eyes and took a deep breath. "Mate, I'm sorry," he said awkwardly.

Harry shrugged and winced. "Don't worry about it."

Ron looked contemplative as he drummed his fingers on the table. Finally he said, "Maybe she was forced to marry Lucius. Dad says that arranged marriages amongst the old Pureblood families still go on today."

Both young men sat with grimaces on their faces while contemplating what it must have been like for a young, beautiful, Narcissa Black to be pledged for life to one such as Lucius Malfoy, if indeed she had been forced into an arranged marriage.

"Maybe some of these old customs will die out now that Voldemort's no longer around to preach to the Purebloods that magic should only be available to the Purebloods," said Ron.

"We can only hope," agreed Harry, his voice strained because of his throbbing head. "But if anymore idealistic Purebloods with delusions of grandeur try to divide The Wizarding World again, it's good to know we Brits can still transport their sorry arses to the other end of the world and make them someone else's problem."

Harry knew Ron didn't have a clue what he was talking about, but despite this, he couldn't help adding almost to himself, "How magnanimous are we?"

It was Ron's job to get the conversation back on track; his voice was unconvincingly casual when he said, "Is Malfoy ever allowed back here?" Harry wished his mate would just give it a rest, but he answered regardless.

"Lucius, no. Narcissa can come back whenever she wants to. Draco has to stay over there until he's twenty-eight, or until Lucius dies, whichever comes first."

"Well," snarled Ron, "I'll be waiting, whenever he decides to return."

Harry sighed and rubbed his forehead with rigid fingertips. "Let's not go there, Ron. Do you think you gunning for Malfoy and then getting yourself arrested will make Ginny feel any better about what happened to her? And I'd rather not have Hermione gunning for me, either, thanks very much."

"What! You're just going to let it ride?" Harry didn't answer, he just slumped down in his chair and shut his eyes.

"You're supposed to be marrying her, Harry. How can you not want to avenge her?"

"Because, Ron, I want to just forget everything to do with the ugly past."

"Really! So, my sister's virtue isn't important to you?"

Harry jumped up so fast, the chair shot backwards and smashed into the cabinets. " For God's sake Ron! You're like a broken record." He strode to the window and back several times, trying to get his temper under control, and wondering if the top of his head was going to launch itself into space. He took a deep breath in an effort to calm himself and moved more carefully across to the cupboard where his everyday potions were kept. He found a phial of simple headache remedy and cracking the seal, downed the contents in one swallow.

Ron had fallen silent as he watched Harry's performance; he knew he had pushed things one step too far. These days, Harry didn't often lose his temper, but when he did, look out the unsuspecting wizard who stood in his path. And the fact he was obviously suffering from a headache had no doubt exacerbated his temper.

"I'm sorry," he said. "That was a stupid thing to say... about the millionth stupid thing I've said today. I think even for me that's a record."

Harry wasn't much mollified but with his headache already easing, he picked the chair up and pushed it into place under the table. Ron watched cautiously as Harry set about making tea. When he placed the mugs on the table, he eyed the dried out sandwiches before waving his hand over the platter. The curled up pieces of bread and their unappetizing fillings were transformed into a delicious, lunchtime repast and the two wizards fell on the sandwiches hungrily.

When Ron was finally replete and leaning back with his mug, he looked over at Harry who was gazing into space, cradling his own mug. Harry had not spoken a word since he had downed the headache potion. Slightly nervously—he didn't want Harry exploding again—Ron asked, "Do you love her?"

Harry stiffened and turned a flint-eyed glare upon his friend. Ron hurried to enlarge upon his words. "I just mean...well, she's only been back in your life since just before Christmas, and that's not really very long, is it? A matter of weeks, really."

Harry took a moment to drain his mug before setting it carefully on the table. "I do love her," he said. "I might have loved her for much longer than when I finally found her in that coffee shop. Perhaps from before she went missing. I was just too dense to realise. Maybe that's why I was so devastated when she disappeared."

Ron was surprised by these revelations, but he was able to be magnanimous now that he was sure Harry wasn't just marrying Ginny to ease her journey back into the bosom of her family. "Well," he said, "She was a good friend."

"That's exactly what I convinced myself she was. I buried my head in the sand, even though my reaction to her disappearance went beyond grief for a friend."

Harry fell silent as he remembered those terrible days following Dumbledore's death, made fifty times worse with the subsequent disappearance of Ginny. "I never stopped looking for her whenever I was out and about—like all of you, I imagine—and I think that's why her presence in that Muggle coffee shop registered with me. I'd walked all the way past the shop before I realised. That amazing head of hair registered on a subconscious level and stopped me in my tracks. I stood blocking the pavement like a gormless idiot for I don't know how long before I went back to take a second look."

Both wizards fell silent again, lost in their own thoughts. Then Ron took a deep breath. "Et voila!" he proclaimed.

Harry couldn't help himself; he laughed. "Et voila!" he repeated mockingly. "Hermione really has got a lot to answer for."

Ron grinned and for a short time, their long-standing friendship overrode any other concerns, and they spent the next thirty minutes with Ron grilling Harry for details of Ginny's life living as a Muggle. Harry's answers were more than a little vague because he didn't feel it was his place to disclose too much of Ginny's secret life; if she wished to tell her story, then she could tell it in her own words.

Ron gave up his inquisition when it became obvious that Harry wasn't going to be terribly forthcoming.

"You know mate," griped Ron, but without any real heat, "you're a veritable mine of information."

"Sorry, but it's Ginny's story to tell. If she wants to."

Ron huffed resignedly and rubbed a hand along his whiskery jaw. "Fair enough." Harry had tensed, waiting for another explosion but at Ron's easy capitulation, he relaxed again.

Ron rolled his eyes. "I'm not going to fly off the handle again, Harry, I promise." He leaned forward, clasping his big hands together on the tabletop where he studied them intently. "I don't want to lose my sister all over again," he said. "Not when she's just come back to us."

Harry looked at Ron before he reached out and clapped him on the shoulder. "I'm glad to see that we're on the same page now, mate. We can all work together to help Ginny to get back with the whole family.

"Any ideas as to how we're going to accomplish that?"

Both wizards' heads snapped up. Hermione stepped off the bottom tread of the stairs onto the flagstones.

"Hermione!"

"How did you get in?"

Both Harry and Ron spoke at once. Hermione ignored Ron while holding her wand up for Harry to see. "You must have forgotten to reset the wards when I left last night," she said.

Harry rolled his eyes. "How very security conscious of me," he drawled. "It's just as well I've convinced the rest of the family to stay away until my security problem is resolved."

"Hmm, just as well," agreed Hermione. "And just as well there really isn't any threat against you at the moment." She rounded the table and dropped a kiss on the top of Harry's head before turning a determinedly detached look upon her husband.

"So, has the idiot that took up residence in your brain yesterday, been expunged?"

Ron reached out a long arm and snagged Hermione around the waist and pulled her down onto his knee. Before Hermione could lambast him, he kissed her thoroughly on the lips.

Harry groaned. "I'll just leave you two lovebirds alone, shall I?" Ron waved the hand that wasn't fastened around Hermione's waist, and Harry left them to it. He thought he heard Ron mumble something that sounded like, "The idiot has left the building," and Hermione giggle before answering in an equally muffled voice, "Well, perhaps for the time being."

Harry could only assume that some of Hermione's lectures on 'the King' had finally rubbed off on Ron… he knew she was a closet Elvis Presley fan.

~GWHP~

Harry quickly ascended the stairs to the main hall, but when he would have continued upwards to the next floor with the intention of checking on Ginny, his conscience gave him a kick and he froze in his tracks.

Ginny had been through a very traumatic time yesterday and today, and she had said when she left him and Ron, that she was going for a rest. He couldn't deny her the comfort of sleep after the trauma of reliving her horrific experience at the hands of Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle; just thinking about Ginny's ordeal was enough to cause his head to start aching again. He was holding onto the banister, and he dropped his head onto his outstretched arm, taking deep breaths to try and lessen the tension in his neck and shoulders. Eventually, he had calmed enough to think clearly; he hadn't lifted the light sleeping spell he had cast on Bonnie when they had returned from the Square, so hopefully Ginny would be sleeping. She had been in a highly emotional state since yesterday, so she should be exhausted. When she awoke, she would easily be able to rouse Bonnie herself, so light was the charm he had cast.

As Harry stood at the base of the stairs leading to the second floor, and sounds from the kitchen of Ron and Hermione talking and laughing—and no doubt snogging—reached him, he was suddenly swept with a wave of desolation. He groaned aloud and slumped back against the section of wall where Walburga Black's hideous portrait had once hung and screeched her foul insults, but where there was now a copy of Constable's, 'Salisbury Cathedral from the Bishop's Grounds'. Suddenly, it all seemed too hard. These new revelations of Ginny's explained her previous uptight and standoffish behavior around him when he had forced himself into her life with all the finesse of a rampaging Hungarian Horntail.

The malignant memory of their one passionate interlude in her flat above the garage and it's bitter outcome, obtruded on Harry's consciousness when he attempted to conjure an image of Ginny and him, not just married, but happily…passionately…physically connected. Why, after everything she had been through at the hands of three foul young men, who had always shown themselves to be edging towards evil throughout their time at Hogwarts, would Ginny ever allow another man to touch her? Especially a man she didn't love… a man whom she was marrying for many reasons, none of which was love.

Harry wished for nothing more than to head upstairs, to see if Ginny would be receptive to the idea of doing what Ron and Hermione were no doubt doing in the kitchen at this very moment; he wanted to kiss her until she melted against him and demanded more. She was, after all, his fiancée. But with the new, unwelcome intelligence he and Ron had been presented with today, the chance of that happening was so miniscule as to be almost nonexistent. Harry had no doubt that if Ginny could ever bring herself to indulge in a real kiss in the future, she would need to be in love with her partner.

The kiss in her bedroom all those weeks ago had been totally inappropriate; he had taken advantage of Ginny's physical and emotional exhaustion, and she had had no time to object before he made his move. Luckily for Ginny, Bonnie had broken up that little party and Ginny had again gathered her defenses about her like a voluminous robe.

Harry groaned again and slid down the wall so that he was squatting; he bowed his head. She had agreed to marry him and Harry was grateful for that; if necessary, he would take just that and never push for anything else as long as she was a part of his life. But he wouldn't be human if he didn't want more. But how were they going to advance so that they became a couple in every sense of the word? With her appalling history, Ginny might never want a man touching her, loving her, ever again. But of course, to be strictly accurate, she had never been loved.

Harry lifted his head and banged it softly against the wall, once, twice, three times…each thump harder than the one before. He had found the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with, but there was a strong possibility that Harry Potter would not find his happily ever after, despite loving this woman to distraction. Hell, he even loved her daughter, who, in all probability, was Draco Malfoy's progeny.

Harry banged his head several more times as his thoughts became more and more disheartened. But regardless of how his relationship with Ginny played out, he was determined that Bonnie would grow up loved and cherished by a father as well as a mother, and she would never suffer the ignominy of knowing she was the product of rape, and that half her genetic makeup most probably came from a member of one of the most notorious Pureblood families in Wizarding Britain. Really though, as terrible an indictment as that might be, it had to be better than either of the alternatives… Crabbe or Goyle genes! At least Malfoy had a brain and was—though it galled Harry to admit it—recognizable as a member of the human race.

Bang! Bang! Oww! Harry reached up to rub the back of his head but a horrified, "Harry!" issuing from near the top of the basement stairs had him opening his eyes to see Hermione bearing down upon him, Ron in close pursuit.

"Mate! Harry, what the hell?" Ron brushed past Hermione before she could get down on her knees in front of Harry, and, thank Merlin, she seemed too upset to get any more words out after her first exclamation… Harry didn't doubt that that would only be a temporary state of affairs. Ron wasn't going to take the softly, softly approach though; he grasped Harry under the arms before he knew what was happening and hoisted him up, swinging him around and forcing his bum down onto the third tread.

Harry leaned his forearms on his thighs, and lowering his abused head, grabbed two hanks of hair in a very tight grip. Hermione pushed herself in front of Ron; she did now kneel in front of Harry and grabbed both his wrists in a surprisingly strong grip. "Harry, what on earth is the matter?"

Harry sighed deeply and relinquished his grip on his hair; he shook his head. When he raised his green eyes to Hermione's worried face, she thought she hadn't seen him look so infinitely sad since… well, since the final tally of the dead was released following the Final Battle.

"Harry, what could possibly have happened in the five minutes since you left the kitchen?"

"Yeah, mate, you were happy enough down there."

Harry tried to smile, but it was more a grimace. "Nothing's happened... really. I'm just being pathetic. Tired I guess."

Hermione wasn't fooled. She lowered her head so that she could look directly into Harry's eyes. "Is it Ginny?"

"What? No—"

"Harry—"

"Hermione, don't take this the wrong way, but go home. Take your husband home with you and show him why it's to his advantage to keep the idiot at bay."

Hermione opened her mouth to argue some more, but Ron forestalled her by grasping her elbow and hoisting her to her feet. "Leave it, Hermione. He said he's fine, so let him be."

Hermione tried to drag her elbow from her husband's uncompromising grip. "Ron, he is quite obviously not fine—"

"Leave it!" Hermione glared at Ron, but one look at his expression had her snapping her mouth closed. She tried again, but Ron's glare intensified and once again her lips snapped together. Finally, she took a deep breath and sighed.

"Okay. Well… umm, we'll get going then." She bent and kissed Harry on the top of his untidy head, giving his hair a gentle caress as Ron pulled her away down the hall. "We'll be in touch, Harry," she called over her shoulder. Harry gave an approximation of a smile and a raised hand passed for a wave.

"Say bye to Ginny for us," said Ron as he dragged his jacket from the hall cupboard. And then they were gone; Harry's last sight of them was Hermione's worried face peering from under Ron's raised arm where he held the edge of the door after ushering her out onto the landing.

Harry didn't bother getting up once Ron and Hermione left; he really didn't have the energy, or the inclination. He rested his forearms along his thighs again, but instead of pulling his hair, he dangled his hands between his thighs, picking at a thumbnail and wondering what he had done to cause the area of bruising under the quick that looked like a vein of mould in a wedge of blue cheese.

After sitting there for five minutes, Harry was internally debating whether to get off his lazy arse and head to Hogwarts to visit the snarky git in the dungeons—Harry knew Snape had no classes after three o'clock, and working on that bloody tome would get his mind off his woeful love life—or curl up at the base of the stairs and have a kip. He didn't want to go upstairs because he knew that if he walked past Ginny's door he wouldn't be able to resist the temptation to knock.

With another gusty sigh, Harry forced himself to his feet. Hogwarts it is.

"Harry."

Harry had just taken a step towards the front doo,r when the quiet voice reached him from the top of the stairs. He was caught off balance… with his foot raised to take another step forward, he also attempted to hurriedly turn around when he heard Ginny's voice; his feet tangled and he almost ended up prostrate on the blue and scarlet carpet runner. Smooth.

By the time he had righted himself, Ginny was standing on the top landing peering down at him. He returned to the base of the stairs and gazed up at her. "Hi," he said, in a would-be cheerful voice, then wanted to kick himself for sounding so lame. "You okay?" he added.

"Have they gone?"

"Err, yeah. Hermione came by and took Ron home with her. They left a couple of minutes ago." Harry could actually see some of the tension in Ginny's shoulders ease.

"Good," she said, and before Harry could say anything else, she disappeared from view, back towards her room. Harry was debating what he should do… carry on with his plan to visit Severus, or…

Ginny reappeared with Bonnie clinging to her hand. They started down the stairs, Bonnie calling out to Harry and waving exaggeratedly, happy having her mother beside her, and Harry waiting for her at the base of the stairs. She half skipped, half jumped down each tread, and was three steps from the bottom when she pulled her hand from her mother's loosened hold and launched herself at Harry. Taken by surprise, he only just managed to ready himself; he caught her and twirled her around, laughing along with her happy giggles. Ginny watched the two of them indulgently. When Harry turned Bonnie upside down and began to gently swing her by her ankles, Ginny rolled her eyes and headed down to the kitchen, happy to leave the loud-pitched noise behind.

When Harry and Bonnie eventually followed her—Bonnie straddling Harry's hip—Ginny was slicing an apple onto a plate where half a dozen savoury biscuits took up space with some grapes and a wedge of cheese. Harry did the routine with Bonnie's chair, adjusting it to a level where she could reach the table. When Ginny put her snack and a beaker of milk down in front of her, Bonnie attacked it with gusto, leaving Harry free to talk to Ginny while she boiled the kettle. Harry leaned on the bench, watching as she put teabags into clean mugs and got the milk from the fridge. When she finished pouring water into both mugs and was jiggling the teabags, Harry reached across and stroked a finger down her forearm.

"Are you OK?"

Ginny paused for a second before picking up a spoon and squeezing the first teabag against the side of the mug. "I'm fine," she said softly.

Harry took the first mug from her and added the milk, repeating the process when she finished squeezing the second teabag. "You couldn't have gotten much sleep."

Ginny shrugged. "Nearly an hour. But I'm OK. I really just needed a bit of time to myself."

Harry leaned back against the bench, crossing his legs at the ankles and holding his mug between both hands, eschewing the handle and seemingly not worried about the excessive heat against his flesh. "Ron can be a bit overwhelming; nothing much has changed."

Ginny smiled behind her cup, though Harry could see the smile was more pensive than happy. "Yep, that's my youngest brother. Out of all of them, he's the one I was always closest to, but he was also the one who could enrage me faster than a snitch." Harry grinned. "Seems he can still do that," she added softly.

"He can make you madder than a bag full of angry cats, that's for sure," said Harry. "But when he calms down and puts his brain in gear instead of his mouth, you couldn't find a better friend."

Ginny's brows had drawn together and she was eyeing Harry in wonderment.

"What?"

"A bag full of angry cats?"

Harry laughed. "I read it somewhere and it seemed an appropriate comparison."

Ginny tipped her head a little to the side and raised her eyebrows contemplatively before nodding. "Yep, I agree. I give you permission to use it again, maybe to his face."

Harry's grin broadened; he loved it when Ginny was this playful and the fact that she was able to be playful after the happenings of yesterday and today was bloody brilliant.

Ginny was grinning too, she was hiding behind her cup again, but she was definitely grinning and all he wanted to do was pull her into his arms and plant a kiss on that grin. He might have gotten up the nerve to act on this impulse if Bonnie hadn't picked that moment to demand that Harry lower her chair and then insist to her mother that she wanted to go into the backyard to play on her swing set.

The next ten minutes were taken up with rugging the little girl up in layers of clothing and making her feet waterproof inside tiny purple wellies with pink polka dots all over them. While Ginny attended to Bonnie, Harry set to with his wand to dry the swing and see-saw and to dry the grass beneath the equipment. When Ginny saw him doing the later, she shook her head in exasperation. "She's not going to dissolve if she gets a bit wet, Harry,' she pointed out with infuriating calm.

Harry didn't look apologetic though. "Indulge me," he said. "I'm fairly new at this game."

"Well, when you've been doing it as long as I have, you become more relaxed. Kids are amazingly resilient."

Ginny was bending down adjusting Bonnie's striped bobble hat, pulling it more firmly over her ears, so she didn't see Harry's look of heartfelt gratitude. To him, those words meant more than the obvious; they meant that Ginny really was set on marrying him and allowing him to adopt Bonnie. He watched as Ginny sat Bonnie in the deep-seated swing and attached the safety clip. It was only two-thirty, but the light was already waning and the chill was setting in with a vengeance; half an hour, forty minutes at the most Harry guessed, and they would have to forcefully remove the little girl from the swing and carry her, probably kicking and screaming, inside.

Harry watched Ginny as she pushed her daughter; her hair was loose under her own bobble hat and Harry watched the ripples of bright colour where it was spread over her shoulders and upper chest as she rocked backwards and forwards, keeping the swing in motion. Harry loved her hair. If he didn't think she might object, he would sit with her in his arms for hours at a time and just run his fingers through its glorious length.

Bonnie squealed loudly in a frenzy of delight, begging her mother to push her higher. Ginny laughed back and did as he daughter instructed. Harry watched, mesmerised as mother and daughter revelled in the freedom of being out of the house in the bracing afternoon air. Their cheeks were rosy with the cold and exertion and their eyes sparkled with the happiness of the moment. Harry couldn't take his eyes off Ginny's beautiful face; she had put on a little weight since she had come to live with him and it suited her. Even though her cheeks had plumped out a little, her heart-shaped face was still very fine. Her figure was a little harder to discern as Ginny still tended to wear sloppy jumpers—and at the moment, a very thick anorak—and jeans that were looser than fashion dictated; but though she was still very slender, Harry thought he could detect a very pleasing plumping out of those areas where the male of the species liked to see a 'little plumping'.

Harry was so deep in thought, he hadn't realised that Ginny was beckoning him over; she had to call him several times before he snapped out of his reverie and moved to her side. "Higher, Harry, higher!" begged Bonnie and when Harry looked to Ginny for permission, he was surprised to see she didn't have any objections; Ginny might not be too fussed about her daughter being out in the cold, but she was as nervous as most mothers when it came to her child becoming too much the daredevil.

Harry went to take Ginny's place behind the swing, but Ginny put her hand on his arm; he looked at her questioningly while enjoying the little thrill that went through him at her touch, even if it was through several layers of thick, winter clothing. "Why don't you charm the swing to keep it moving?"

Harry eyebrows rose in surprise. Ginny didn't often encourage him to use magic around Bonnie; allowing her to ride the kitchen chair up and down was about the extent of the spells she permitted to be used around her child. "Just use a sticking charm so she can't move around." With that, Ginny marched the short distance to the back door and let herself into the kitchen.

Harry watched her go in some bewilderment, but Bonnie dragged his attention back to her with more orders for him to make her go higher. Harry grabbed the swing to stop its momentum and Bonnie's squeal of objection quickly turned into giggles at the sensation Harry caused when he pointed his wand at her little fleece-covered bottom to cause it to stick to the black rubber swing seat. The giggles turned into more squeals—but this time of fluttery anticipation—when he set the swing going a good deal higher than when Ginny had been pushing it, then incanting a silent charm to make it maintain its momentum.

Harry made Bonnie laugh when he moved in front of the swing and then jumped out of the way as she swept past. The more he did this, the more Bonnie gurgled with delight, and by the time Ginny called to him, the little girl was nearly hysterical with giggles. Ginny was standing at the back door; she held up a large mug in a beckoning gesture and when Bonnie objected to Harry leaving her side, Ginny called that they would watch her from the kitchen window. When she still looked as if she would continue to object, Harry set her the task of singing as many nursery rhymes as she could remember; he said if she could recite ten, then he would show her something very, very special the next day. Bonnie was singing 'Hey Diddle Diddle', at the top of her voice when Harry followed Ginny into the kitchen.

She handed him a mug of hot chocolate, topped with marshmallows. "Thanks,' he said with a happy grin. "My favourite."

"I remember. Thankfully there aren't any Dementors around to counter the effects of. This is just decadent hot chocolate for the sake of... well, I suppose... being decadent."

Harry took a substantial sip. "Bring on decadence, I say." Their eyes met over the rims of their mugs, much as they had done earlier when they were drinking their tea. Ginny broke the connection first and she turned to the window to watch Bonnie. The little girl was still swinging happily, but now she was no longer singing at the top of her voice; instead, she was looking up at the sky and pointing with a mittened hand while she counted—clouds presumably—out loud.

Harry kept his eyes on Ginny's profile; he could see a delicate wash of pink had infused her cheeks. When Ginny blushed, her skin looked mouth-wateringly luscious, compared to Ron's mottled, salami look. Harry supposed vaguely that it was only fitting that Ron's ugly flush should be comparable to food, seem as it was his favourite thing... well, apart from Hermione of course. So intent was he on Ginny's pink velvet skin, he didn't realise the object of his glazed concentration had turned back to face him.

It wasn't until she cupped his cheek with her warm hand that Harry realised she was standing directly in front of him. His faraway gaze snapped into focus and though his mug was empty of chocolate—thank Merlin, otherwise he would have spilt it—Harry swallowed audibly. Ginny's beautiful brown eyes had a liquid cast to them, making them look even more like the melted chocolate he had always likened them to. Harry couldn't believe she was so close and actually touching him without her being visibly upset and crying, and being in need of comfort. Without giving himself time to think, he raised his own hand and placed it over hers, pressing it harder against his flesh. He swallowed again.

"Gin," he croaked, but Ginny extricated her hand from under his. She didn't leave him bereft though, instead, she covered his lips with gentle, but firm fingers.

"Don't talk," she whispered. "Just listen."

Harry swallowed again, but he nodded, and when Ginny was sure of his cooperation, she removed her fingers. She took Harry's mug from his slackening fingers and placed it and her own in the sink. She looked out the window to check that Bonnie was still happy; the little girl could swing for Britain if at all possible, but in the past, Ginny or Harry's stamina would run out a long time before Bonnie's enthusiasm did.

Ginny could hear Harry shift slightly beside her, but now the time was here for her to tell him what she needed to tell him—what it was only fair to tell him—her nerves were getting the better of her. But there was nothing for it; she couldn't leave him in the emotional state she knew he was in; he was miserable, even if he was always able to make Bonnie laugh. She was the only one who could fix things... fix him.

Gathering her courage, she turned back to face Harry. He was looking at her with such intensity, such patience... such love. She was ashamed to think about how she had accepted his offer of marriage but left him thinking she was only going through with it for the security and comfort he offered. Everything he had done since he had found her in Simon's coffee shop had been for her and Bonnie... he had even come back after she had pushed him away, and the anger and resentment he must have felt because of her easy dismissal of him, had taken all of fifteen minutes to evaporate.

But now, he was really hurting; hurting much more than she had realised. She had been a selfish cow; she had done all the taking and none of the giving.. And now it was time for her to even things up

"Gin?"

Ginny put her fingers over his lips again, held his confused gaze with her own. Before she could second guess herself, she stood on tiptoe and replaced her fingers with her lips. The kiss was tentative, questing, but it was perfect. She felt Harry's shock, heard a distinct inhalation born of surprise. She had never initiated contact with him unless she was upset, like she had been several times when Ron was being Ron and turning her into an angry, emotional spitfire.

This kiss started out as nothing more than the equivalent of holding hands because Ginny was so nervous and Harry so surprised. She was a total novice when it came to true intimacy, and most especially with any intimacy initiated by herself. Merlin knew, there had been no real closeness with Malfoy; she had been resentful of her brother and friends which had led to her being flattered by Malfoy's attentions. Rebelling against her brother and mother had been the icing on the cake.

As for Malfoy, she had learned the hard way that his attentions had been nothing but a desire to keep her on a leash until the time was optimal for him to show his true colours. To keep her believing in him, he had eventually—after many gentle kisses of welcome or farewell on her cheek or the back of her hand—served up a token intense, but totally insincere snog to help whet her appetite for more. She believed he had held back because he was a gentleman. Some gentleman!

Eventually, the idealistic Pureblood had turned on the Blood Traitor and she had finally seen the Malfoy that Harry and Ron had always told her to beware of. He had greeted her on their last date with intimidation and violence, and along with his two goons, they had subjected her to the unthinkable over the next two hours,. She had been fifteen years old and he had been a charming, manipulative snake who had had a specific agenda right from the start of their association. And she had been stupid enough and angry enough with her brother and Harry to fall for the lies.

Harry's lips remained quiescent under hers, but Ginny was positive he was far from unaffected. She pressed closer to him, forcing him to back into the bench; the degree of affectedness then became blindingly obvious. Without further thought, her arms wound around his neck, and that was when Harry decided this was the real thing. Slowly, hesitantly, he put his hands on Ginny's hips, felt the sharp jut of bone under too slender curves. He worked his hands around to her back and when she was within the circle of his arms, he pulled her closer while altering the angle of his head so that their lips melded more thoroughly.

His passivity ended when he had her in his arms, though he remained conscious of her inexperience, despite her having had a child. He didn't just want her, he wanted to erase the hurt, the horrific memories, of her first sexual encounter. He wanted her to want to be loved. And this was a promising beginning... a bolt from the blue, certainly, but a thoroughly wonderful surprise.

And her lips were as perfect as he remembered from their one kiss... soft, smooth, innocent, but gently insistent as they moved on his in tentative invitation. Harry pulled her closer and deepened the kiss, opening his lips slightly and increasing the pressure on hers.

Ginny knew that there was more to a kiss than just the touching of lips. Their previouskiss had been fire and passion. But the memory of her participation and her need that day, combined now with the feel of Harry's tongue gently laving the seam of her lips, seeking entry, made her tense up. Though she didn't pull away entirely, Ginny did stop participating in the kiss; she lowered herself off her tiptoes and loosened her hold on his neck, even while she remained within the circle of his arms. Harry, sensing her mental withdrawal, pulled his head back.

Ginny felt awful; she had, after all, initiated the kiss but now she had stopped it. She hadn't wanted to stop, but it was all too new and the feelings Harry evoked were a little scary. Should she feel a little light-headed? Should her breasts and... and other places feel tingly and slightly swollen? She rested her forehead against Harry's chest, feeling entirely safe within the circle of his arms. And Harry, bless him, seemed content just to hold her.

"I'm sorry," she eventually whispered into the soft wool of his jumper.

Harry felt rather than heard her speak; he released one arm and with gentle pressure, raised her chin with an insistent finger. Their faces were so close, it was all he could do not to bend his head and devour her reddened lips again.

"That was the nicest talking to I've ever been subjected to," he said softly.

Ginny looked up at him, her forehead crinkled in confusion.

"You told me to stop talking and listen," he elaborated. "You definitely have the gift of the gab, Miss Weasley. A true raconteur."

Ginny smirked before resting her forehead over his beating heart again. "You're a good listener," she said softly.

"When something's worth listening too... ." Harry found himself swaying gently with her still held in the circle of his arms. Ginny clung to the back of his jumper and gave herself up to the wonderful sensation of being wanted, protected... loved?

"I could hold you here for the rest of our lives," Harry said softly into her hair.

"Good," she murmured. "I find I'm quite content being held."

They stayed like that for several minutes. Harry was aware that Bonnie was still outside; he raised his head and could see the swing moving back and forth with an apparently contented child still looking skywards. She was still talking animatedly and Harry thought she must have spotted some birds because now that the sky was uniformly grey, he couldn't imagine counting clouds would be very interesting. He realised that only about twelve minutes had passed since Ginny had summoned him inside.

He knew this wonderful interlude would have to come to an end very soon. But until that time, Ginny might be amenable to... Harry lifted Ginny's chin again and began to lower his head to claim her lips once more. But to his consternation, Ginny placed her fingers over his lips again. His brows drew together.

"Harry," Ginny said, removing her fingers and placing them against his cheek. He turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand. His eyes bore into hers and for a moment he thought she looked a little nervous. "I do want to talk, but... other things keep getting in the way."

"Nice things?"

"Very nice things. And I want to do some more nice things with you later... ." Harry's eyes lit up but Ginny took another half step back though she stayed within the circle of his arms.

"Harry," she continued nervously. "I, um...I overheard what was said in the hall earlier." Harry looked confused for a moment, then his face slowly lost its animation and a carefully blank expression took over. Time seemed to stand still for a moment and Ginny rushed to fill the—to her way of thinking—hideous silence.

"I was on my way downstairs when I heard... ."

"Ah," said Harry, cutting her off. "Now I understand." He took hold of her shoulders and tried to step around her. But she refused to allow him to move her out of the way; she grasped his upper arms in a surprisingly strong grip. He wasn't going to get into a tussle with her, so he just stared over the top of her head, his eyes, so full of passion a very short time ago, were now remote.

"Stop it Harry," cried Ginny, and she punched him on the bicep—hard. "I won't let you do this. I wanted to say this straight away, but other th—"

"Yeah, I know," he said bitterly. "Other things got in the way."

Ginny's eyes narrowed. "Listen to me, Harry Potter, and listen good. I did not kiss you because I felt sorry for you. I kissed you because I wanted to."

"Right," said Harry, his voice flat and entirely disbelieving.

If Harry wasn't being quite such a dick, he might have realised just how angry Ginny was becoming. As it was, he just tried to move her out of the way again—he was still backed into the bench and Ginny was still stubbornly planted directly in front of him.

"Harry... ."

Harry focused his furious eyes on her again. "So, you heard a pathetic loser banging his thick head against the wall in frustration, did you? Did you hear Ron and Hermione rushing to my rescue? Did you hear Hermione ask, 'is it Ginny'?" His voice was mocking, insufferable.

"Then did you think, 'why don't I just give him a taste of paradise to keep him happy for a while'?"

"You're pushing it, Potter!"

"Really? How's this for pushing it?" Harry grasped Ginny's arms again in a less than gentle grip, and forced her backwards. Ginny staggered and Harry held on until she righted herself.

"If you'll excuse me. I just remembered I have another appointment." As Harry strode forward, he didn't see Ginny's eyes narrow dangerously; he did however feel his wand sliding from his back pocket. When he spun around, Ginny had the wand pointed at his face; her narrowed eyes were fully focused, but Harry's widened eyes only saw the wand's tip moving in a rapid circle. He didn't hear any incantation; he had never heard it even though he had seen Ginny in action several times in the past; he had just never been on the receiving end of her infamous Bat-Bogey Hex.

TBC...

A/N: A long time between drinks, I know, and I apologise. I know there are one or two out there who aren't so angry and frustrated they will efuse to read the chapter. If you have gotten as far as this, I gather you have read it too, so, I thank you.

Lesley