A/N: WARNING! This chapter contains content of a very SAPPY nature that my beta advised me to incorporate. Ill-advised in my opinion, but alas the chapter is FULL of it. Take solace in the fact that it was worse for me to write than it will be for you to read.

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Chapter 18 - A Step Toward Authenticity

Harry woke up on the very edge of the bed, wondering why he was about to fall off. Brooklyn couldn't have been sprawled out since he couldn't feel her par usual and he was fairly certain there had been no argument between them the night prior. Not feeling quite right, he rolled onto his back, feeling the edge of fingers under his arm. He turned his head and was met with a blurred view of fiery red hair that was splayed halfway across the face of Ginny Weasley.

Everything came rushing back.

He sat up immediately, checking to make sure she had not removed anything else from his body after the potion had kicked in. Everything was there as he remembered it. He noticed there was bruising around his wrists, but couldn't make it out clearly without his glasses.

She stirred.

His body tensed up and anger began to rise. The level of audacity she possessed to even think it would be alright to take advantage of his completely helpless state the way she had was sickening to him.

"Harry, you're awake!" She said cheerily, sleep still prominent in her voice.
He didn't move. He didn't want to look at her.
She sat up and put one hand on his back, the other on his shoulder. "How are you feeling? You were in a right state last night."

His jaw was now clenched as he fought the urge to start screaming at her. The last thing he wanted was to draw the rest of the Weasley's into the room. The hand she had on his back was now moving upward toward his hair. He wouldn't be able to restrain himself for much longer.

"You can tell me anything, Harry." She whispered close to his ear.
"Get – your hands – off of me." He said, his jaw remaining clenched.

She was doing so in a very slow manner. Too slow for him, so he did it himself forcibly. He still had yet to look at her and his eyes remained focused on the blurry chest of drawers in front of him.

"Here are your glasses…" She said somewhat apprehensively. He grabbed them and put them on.
"Forgetting something else?" He said coldly, still looking at the now clear chest of drawers that had items of clothing sticking out from them.
"Well, I put your jacket and shoes on the chair…"

He turned his head and looked passed her. The end table only had his wand on it. His ominous gaze immediately shot to her.

"Where is it?" He demanded.
"I don't know wha-"
"Where is it?"
"It's just a stupid ring, Harry."
"I bet you wouldn't be saying that if the other half belonged to you." His eyes narrowed, not caring in the slightest that he was misleading her about it. "Now for the last time, where is it!"
"Is that why you ran off?" She whispered.

Obviously Ginny was uninformed about the Orders' involvement since she was not inducted. Ron had conveniently neglected to tell them about meeting him at Grimmauld Place to go searching for Horcruxes. Only Tonks knew anything about the new identity since she was the one who had created it. It didn't matter though, he didn't owe her any explanations.

"You are testing my patience." His tone was clearly letting her know that he had none left.
"It's despicable that you let everyone panic and suffer like this because you had to go off after some girl." She said disgusted.
"Really? I thought that you getting in bed with me, knowing I wouldn't be able to protest, after taking that ring off of my finger was a good example." He said callously. "But you know what, I really don't give a damn what you think so believe whatever you want."

So what if it was really a fake, he still needed it for when he went back. He got up out of bed and started opening the drawers to the end table, moving onto the desk drawers when he couldn't find it. The fact that she was still sitting on the bed watching him was only adding to his mounting anger.

"Harry?" She said cautiously. When he didn't respond, she called to him again. "Will you please talk to me?" He glared at her in response and she seemed to think that meant she could continue. "What happened to us, Harry? We're so perfect for each other I just…I just don't understand."

He stared at her in complete and utter shock. He had shown up last night looking like he had just been beaten within an inch of his life, her brother was missing and most likely being tortured by now, and yet this is the thing she chose to talk to him about. He no longer knew this person, nor did he want to.

"I just wanted to get this out of the way," She added. "Before everyone else wakes up or you take off again."
He continued to glare, but responded this time, albeit coldly. "I told you before Bill and Fleur's wedding, things changed. You need to move on."
"I tried seeing other people, but I can't just turn off my emotions like you! I just can't forget what we had!" She was trying very hard to keep her voice low and her eyes were starting to water. "I loved you, Harry and I still do!"
For some reason her confession did not surprise him, nor diffuse his anger towards her as he suppressed the urge to roll his eyes.
"Harry, please…" She was moving closer to him, her eyes pleading for something he could not and would not give. "Tell me you feel the same."
"I don't." He said bluntly. "And I never did."
"That's a lie, Harry! You know it is!" She protested.
"I do not deny that it was leading toward that, but it changed after Dumbledore's funeral. So no, I am not lying." He said with finality.
"And you love this other girl? Brook, was it?" She asked shakily.
"Ginny, give me my ring." He demanded once again.

She slowly reached into her pocket and handed it to him. He felt somewhat calmer after putting it on, but continued to ignore her probing stare. If she asked him again, he had a foreboding feeling that she would catch him in the lie.

"You never answered me." She said.
"I would think the answer was obvious." He responded matter-of-factly.
"If it's taking you this long to say it, then you don't."
He could see the hope filling her eyes as he remained silent, unsure of how to respond.
"You don't have to remain married." She said way too boldly. "Everyone makes mistakes."

He groaned in frustration as he couldn't stand her persistence over the subject anymore. He cast a silencing charm on the room and turned to her. She actually had a smile starting to show on her face. It would surely be gone after he finished what he was about to say.

"Ginny, I'm only saying this once, so make sure it sinks in and don't even think of interrupting me." He started, quite annoyed. "First off, I'm not married. It's just a ploy to fool all of the daft muggles that I'm surrounded by. I didn't ask for it, nor did she, but we have not strayed from the story since it was imposed upon us. Second, you're one to talk about making mistakes, because your relentless need to prove yourself – your little 'you need to go to the graveyard' deduction – ended up costing me nothing but sheer torture and your brother being captured since you can't follow simple instructions. And finally, just for your information, I may not be in love with her, but it's certainly leading toward it."

There was no trace of a smile left on her face as grabbed his belongings and left the room.

He tripped right over George after exiting, who was holding an extendable ear in his hand and had probably heard the whole conversation. There was not even time for a choice expletive to escape his mouth, for George had already leaped up, snatched his elbow and dragged him down the crooked staircase.

"Harry...mum...now..." Was all George managed to mutter as he forcibly pulled him towards the kitchen.

George shoved him into the kitchen, stumbling in with him. The swinging doors shut with a sound of finality as Harry found himself facing the back of Mrs. Weasley as she calmly prepared breakfast. His feet instantly began backing up, attempting to drive George out of the kitchen before they were spotted. It was a well known fact that the only thing he feared more than Voldemort was the red-headed woman's temper and he did not want to witness the epic proportions it would reach if she found out her youngest son had been taken captive on his watch. Especially since he had not done a thing to stop it…

It was too late though. George's incomprehensible ramblings had attracted her attention and her bloodshot eyes met his.

Wiping at her eyes, she turned away quickly. "Oh boys...you surprised me."
Harry's heart sank. The closest thing he had to a mother had clearly been crying.
"Harry dear...I...you were in such a right state last night and Ron..." An odd sound came from her direction. "I'm sorry boys it's just...Ron hasn't come back yet..."

Harry swallowed hard at the hopeful, probing stare she was giving him, trying to ignore the jabbing in his side that was George's elbow. His mind was racing frantically, trying to think of a way to lessen the harsh blow he was about to disclose without revealing what had actually happened. A few quick scenarios flash through his head, as well as their possible outcomes. None of them were turning out in his favor, nor helping in him in relaying the message.

"I-uh…" Harry trailed off.
George finally jabbed him too hard in the side, eliciting a slight groan of pain. "Will you just tell her already!"
"Tell me what?" Mrs. Weasley asked anxiously. "Is it about Ron? Do you know where he is?"
"Y-yes…" Harry got out. "He's been…he was with me."
"Where is he now!" She asked, starting to sound increasingly distressed.
"W-we were attacked." He started to lie. "Death Eaters…they, they took him."
"THEY WHAT?"

He sighed resignedly, forced to lie to the people he loved to protect two he hated from certain death. If possible, he hated Snape and Draco for turning out to be on the light side after all.

"They attacked us Mrs. Weasley. We flooed to one location, only to wind up in...in the g-graveyard again..."

Sudden comprehension dawned within the woman's bloodshot eyes, a devilish part of his mind egging him on to play up to the sympathy card.

"Surely you can't mean..." Mrs. Weasley began frightfully, but he shook her off.
"I do..." He groaned. "Ron landed first. He called out a...a warning." His head hung, his messy hair falling to obscure his dishonest eyes. "It gave me the time I needed. Ron was already gone by the time I had a chance to fight back. I was outnumbered…I was hit fairly hard and don't really remember too much after it."

The Slytherin residing within him screamed victoriously as she stared at him in horror, a few tears trailing down her face as her natural temper was obviously losing its fight for precedence. He rubbed his face with his hand, which proved to be a very poor decision on his part. Mrs. Weasley's temper was quickly making a triumphant return.

"HARRY POTTER!" She roared. "What in the blazes is that!"
On cue Fred walked in and leaned around him, scrutinizing its polished surface. "Looks like a wedding band actually..."
"WHAT? You mean that while my son was getting captured by Death Eaters you were off getting married!"
Harry's jaw dropped in horror at the advancing red-head's rebounding fury, only for George to bolt around him, hands held calmingly to her.
"Now, now mother, I'm sure he got married long before ickle Ronnie-kins was getting tortured..."
"TORTURED?"
George looked at her sympathetically. "Well he is with Death Eaters mum, I doubt it's pie and punch there, but he's pureblooded so they'll keep him alive. Don't worry we'll get him bac-"
"KEEP HIM WHAT?"
"Wait a minute, you got married? Hey! Why wasn't I invited?" George asked, dismissing his mother's obvious dislike of his last statement.
"Not this again..." Harry muttered, banging the back of his head against the wall.
"Not what again?" Fred asked, eyes suddenly widening with an epiphany. "The others already knew you were married?" The twin began gesturing wildly across the room at George. "Why does he get to know everything before I do?"

Harry looked between the three feuding family members in a numb state of shock. They appeared to be more upset by having not been invited to the non-existent reception than by Ron's capture. Something Brooklyn had once said shot brutally to the forefront of his mind…

Sometimes people focus first on what's easiest for them to handle.

Harry eyed his wand, seriously contemplating Avada Kedavra-ing himself right then. "I have to go…"
"GO?" Mrs. Weasley continued to yell. "It's Christmas! Where on earth do you plan on going!"
"Back to my wife." He stated simply while putting on his jacket.
"After everything we've done for you, you're just going to run off with some nobody and leave us behind like we don't even matter!"
Harry stopped in his tracks and his eyes narrowed angrily. "Seeing as how you were always one of the most adamant in the Order regarding my inability to protect myself, I would have thought you knew already...but it's not like I was given a choice about leaving. She was just the only one brave enough to go with me, so don't you ever speak poorly of her."

He turned to leave, ignoring the yelling, the petty insults, the pleading to not go away and disappear once more. With his jacket zipped, he left The Burrow and instinct took over. He ran. He needed to get away from the insanity that had taken place, he needed to get back to the only form of normalcy he had…and fast.

With The Burrow now a good distance away, he retrieved the image of the never-ending forest to mind and within seconds he was there.

He just hoped he could remember how to get back.

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The snow was deeper than he remembered as it was now at least three inches above his ankles. He immediately performed a waterproofing spell on his shoes in hopes of preventing a looming frostbite. The last thing he needed was to lose a few toes, or worse a whole foot. He walked passed the now completely snow covered rock, fairly certain he was going in the correct direction, hoping that he hadn't gotten himself turned around in the process of apparating.

Nature seemed to have a vendetta against him, for snow once again began falling from the grey skies above, trying to add to the already difficult to walk through indiscernible path, trying to slow his pace even more. Looking up towards the sky, a few snowflakes landed on his glasses, trying to obstruct his view. He smiled at nature's feeble attempts, for he refused to be delayed. Determination set in and he treaded forward.

Thirty minutes later directional instinct finally found him, telling him that he had gone the wrong way at the fallen tree around fifty yards back. He retraced his steps as fast as the impeding snow would allow, veering right instead of the left he had. He ignored the stabbing pain of his legs as they were nearing numbness, the harshness of the stinging windburn that his scarf was doing little to prevent, the total numbness in his gloved hands that was threatening to travel up his arms…

Fording through winter's unforgiving nature, he finally reached the clearing where the small neighborhood was located. When he reached the backyard to the temporary house, he found himself under attack. Hedwig had been perched on a tree and immediately swooped down and was flying in frantic circles around him until finally coming to a rest on his shoulder and nipping at what little of his ear was showing from underneath his hat.

As he walked to the backdoor, Hedwig took off and returned to the tree, obviously enjoying the outside despite the cold. He looked through the window of the door, but did not see Brooklyn. He slipped inside quietly, removing all of the attire that had been protecting him from the elements. Despite the warmth inside, he found himself unable to control the shaking from the extended period of cold he had just endured, suspecting that some of it might be due to the anxiety he had started to feel rise as soon as he had seen the house.

He collected himself as best he could and headed toward the only other place she could possible be. Moving almost stealthily down the short hallway, he saw the door to the bedroom ajar and the light on. His heart began to race as he inched closer, being careful to avoid the places in the floorboards that creaked when stepped on. Avoiding them had become near second nature, for he had memorized them within the first week when sleeping had not been coming easily, leaving him to wander around aimlessly until drowsiness finally took over.

He stood in the bedroom doorway and gazed upon her. She was sitting up against the headboard with a pillow behind her, focusing intently on the cell phone he had swiped from the Demon kid before the infamous dinner had even commenced. A faint smile crossed his lips once seeing that she was clad in one of his shirts, by far the warmest one in his collection. It outsized her by a long shot, yet somehow it did so flatteringly.

A glint from the object residing on her finger that fictionally bound her to him caught his eye. She usually took it off when not in public, relying on her memory to remind her to put it back on when the time came. His memory had failed him on that matter one too many times in the beginning for him to trust it again. Perhaps hers had simply forgotten as well.

"Figure it out yet?" He asked, his chilled state prominent in his voice, distantly hoping that she had.

At the sound of his voice Brooklyn quite literally jumped, dropping the cell phone with a clatter upon the wooden floorboards. Her eyes met his almost disbelievingly, a glimmer of something he was not used to seeing was there.

"Harry..." She whispered, seeming paralyzed.
A sad smile crossed his face. "Glad you still remember me. And to think I was worried you'd run off with the Demon next door."
Her face instantly broke into one of disgust, a reflexive shudder visibly swept over her. "Ugh..." She muttered, dropping back onto the bed. "Don't ever joke about that again..."
He smirked, walking over to pick up the cell. "Is that another implied hexing threat or does that mean you really do prefer me to the devil incarnate?"
"I hate you." She said weakly.
"No you don't."
"Damnit Harry!"
He shook his head, sighing slightly. "And to think I had been hoping for a 'Merry Christmas, Harry.' I suppose 'Damnit Harry' will have to do."

She stood slowly and faced him, her expression unreadable. His anxiety level began to rise as he was near certain she was about to launch another verbal assault on him, most likely for the letter he knew he shouldn't have written. His gaze fell to the floor as a few of the lines he had written crossed his mind, focusing intently on his feet, not wanting his nearing embarrassment to show.

Another pair of feet were soon in front of his own and he hesitatingly looked up to her still unreadable expression. He was composing an apology in his head for his idiotic letter when she caught him off guard, embracing him tightly as though she hadn't seen him in ages.

"I thought something might have happened to you…" She mumbled into his chest.
"I told you I'd come back." He whispered, letting his head fall against hers.
"I know…it's just saying something is different than following through on it."
"I'm not one to break promises."
She pulled back and looked at him. Her eyes were forming tears, though none of them fell. "I know that now."

And without so much as a warning, her hands found their way to the back of his head and pulled him to her, greedily taking control over all of his senses as the cell phone went crashing to the ground once more. But something dark was creeping into his mind and he desperately tried to ignore it. He wasn't about to surrender another moment he could never get back, one that he had patiently been waiting for. The distinct presence of the bed underneath him only seemed to evoke the ordeal of the day prior, yet looking into her eyes he couldn't bear ro let it show. Not now.

"So, did you want your present now or later?" She whispered, her lips trailing across his neck.
His arms wrapped around her instinctively. "Both."
She pulled away slightly, glowering down. "Someone's being greedy."

The warmth she had stirred inside him was accompanied by a massive wave of guilt he had been trying so hard to prevent. Everyone he cared for, save from her, was gone, and there he was about to partake in an act that one might deem selfish given the circumstances. Something in his expression must have shown, for her eyes sobered, the light ceasing to shine within them. How he hated watching that vanish...

"Harry, what happened?" She questioned quietly, her palm coming to rest against the side of his face.
His breath hitched for a moment. "Nothing good..." He whispered back, pulling her till his face was buried within her hair, its novel scent letting him escape from reality for the moment.

Somehow their unspoken bonds had rekindled. His need to not think on it, to not discuss it, to not mention it…she understood it all without needing to be told. That morning she gave him the one thing he really needed: Her. No restrictions, no restraints, no feelings held back. Right then all he needed to do was feel, and he would revel in her for as long as he could.

As the snow continued to fall outside, covering any imperfection in the landscape, nothing about what had happened needed to be masked. For the first time they were both in silent accord about what it had meant, neither feeling the need to vocalize it, not wanting to shatter the serene after effects.

He noticed the letter was open on the nightstand, yet she never mentioned it. The thought of her reading it before had made him terribly anxious, for he sure as hell knew what he wrote. Somehow he understood that she didn't need to mention it. She had already shown him how much it had truly meant to her.

Again his attention was drawn to the ring she had not taken off in private, as her fingers played with his, twisting it around his ring finger as they hovered upon the boundary of sleep and awareness. Fictional or not, for the time being they epitomized the part as though they had been in the role for years. It was in this fleeting moment he did not want to drag himself back to the story bound reality of it all.

She then unexpectedly turned to him, grasping his hand just a little tighter. He had not expected her to think it, let alone say it…

Their roles took a step toward authenticity. And for the second time since he had met her, everything had completely changed.