A/N: Someone asked for a Ginny-centric chapter. Well, here you go. This is told entirely from her perspective.
Chapter 4:
Sucking Up
Ginny was sitting in an armchair by the fire in the sitting room of her childhood home. It was a rare thing, to get a chance to sit here. Usually, it was taken up by her father or whoever fell next in line in the Weasley hierarchy.
This left her in last.
She had her feet tucked under her bum and her hair tied up in a makeshift knot. She was completely alone. No one would be coming down until breakfast the next morning.
She couldn't sleep and not for the typical reasons like nightmares or an itchy leg or whatever.
No, this time she was awake because she was restless.
Every time she closed her eyes, she saw his face or smelled his wonderfully non-identifiable smell. Sometimes, she could swear she heard him.
It was like fifth year all over again, except a whole lot less fun. This time, they weren't just young and rash. They were deciding the fate of the rest of their lives.
At least, if the romance novel was to be taken at face value.
That was another thing. The bloody book was what Harry was basing his entire understanding on. Surely there was something, or someone, who had been around long enough to explain what the hell was going on with the pair of them.
If they were the first to have formed such a connection, why in the ever-living fuck did it happen to them.
Then there was Harry's lack of communication. She was all for keeping their minds apart for the time being. It had been a week since they'd come to that decision, and she was fine with it.
She took issue with what Harry chose to tell her, and what he decided was his own battle to face.
If their souls were bound, - which she didn't believe entirely herself - then why did he think that he had to keep everything to himself? Especially if she was potentially involved.
He could keep his secrets, hide a fortune of gold, whatever. She didn't care. What bothered her was that he never made it clear if he was just doing the usual Harry thing, where he took everything onto himself even if it was unhealthy for him to do so. Or if he was genuinely fighting his own battle, and just needed space.
A simple "this isn't about you," would be welcome.
Ginny sighed and let her face fall into her hands.
Then, she heard a clinking in the kitchen. The quiet sounds of cupboards being opened and drinks being poured.
She pushed herself up and tip-toed to one of the two kitchen doorways.
It was Fleur. Her perfect image glittered in the moonlight that shone through the windows.
Usually, Ginny would probably have snuck back into the sitting room, but at this moment, she'd rather throw herself off the astronomy tower than be left alone with her own thoughts.
It was ironic, especially since she had the ability to never be alone with her own thoughts. She just needed to talk to someone, in person. Even if it was about the weather or, Merlin forbid, France.
"Hi, Fleur," she greeted, walking into the kitchen and immediately regretting her choice to socialize. Why would she do this to herself? Especially with Fleur. Fuck, it always took so much effort.
"Hello Ginny," Fleur replied, appearing not as surprised as she should have been by Ginny's sudden arrival. "I saw you in the sitting room,"
Ginny nodded and joined her sister-in-law, (Sister in law) at the counter. "What's keeping you awake?"
Fleur shrugged. "Bill snores. Usually, I wait and put a silencing charm on him while he sleeps but… I don't want to wake him up. He hasn't been resting well,"
For some reason, Ginny found this quite hilarious and choked on her water. "Damn… that must really…" she trailed off.
"I doubt I have to ask you what's keeping you up," Fleur whispered, taking a sip of her water like it was the most expensive tea in Britain.
Ginny nodded. Pretending like Fred's funeral from two days ago was the sole reason for her lack of sleep was much easier than explaining a mental and magical link between her and her ex-boyfriend.
It was really stupid to refer to him as her ex-boyfriend if she was honest with herself. Both for the fact that the relationship itself lasted a couple of weeks and because it hadn't ever really ended. They'd basically confessed their love for each other without saying it and then went their separate ways.
At least, that was how she saw it.
Now, of course, they were pushed back together, and it was… weird.
"Do you want to sit with me?" Fleur asked, pointing to the sitting room.
Ginny held her bottom lip between her teeth and made a whistling sound to stall for time as she deliberated on spending any of it with Fleur. "Yeah, sure," she agreed with a tone of voice that sounded like someone trying to convince themselves they'd made the right choice after losing a thousand galleons on a game show.
Ginny retook her spot in the comfortable fireside chair and Fleur took the couch, laying down with her head resting on the arm closest to Ginny.
"You seem distracted," Fleur observed, speaking to the ceiling.
Ginny hummed in ascent. Choosing not to answer for now.
"How come?"
Ginny could've lied. In fact, she could have gotten up and gone to bed. Making excuses like 'it's too hard to talk about it right now'. Instead, she took a deep breath, and said with a noncommittal tone, "Harry,"
Fleur giggled and Ginny had to urge to throw a nearby paperweight at her. "I do not miss having boy troubles,"
"It's not like that," Ginny said exasperatedly. She changed her position so that her legs were hanging off one arm, while her head was resting against the other, essentially lying down in the armchair.
"Then what is it like?"
Ginny held her arms up in the air and wrung out her hands. "Argh!" she complained, "I don't know! He's just so…"
"Complicated?" Fleur offered.
Ginny groaned. "Yes but that's not a bad thing,"
Fleur hummed in approval. "So, what is Harry Potter doing that has you so… bothered,"
Ginny thought about how to word this. "He's not communicating,"
"He's a boy,"
Ginny rolled onto her stomach and faced Fleur. "Yes, but he isn't an idiot,"
Fleur laughed again.
"Would you stop laughing!" Ginny complained tossing a throw pillow at her.
Fleur took a moment to calm herself before saying, "He probably has a lot on his mind right now, and Harry seems like the kind of person who needs to take time on his own to sort everything out,"
Well, that was somewhat helpful advice to someone who had never spent any time with Harry before. To Ginny, this was just pointing out the obvious. "Yes, I know that, but what I don't think you understand is…" she stopped herself. She couldn't go about talking to Fleur like this. Especially with something as important as a soul bond. She hadn't even told Hermione let alone her mother.
"Ginny, do you know what they say about veela?" Fleur spoke into the awkward silence.
Ginny waited.
"They say that once a witch or wizard comes of age, they are the first to know,"
"Why?" Ginny asked, leaving aside the 'how' for later.
Fleur rolled over as well, resting her chin on her arms and looking at Ginny with a curious smile. Like a teenager about to revel in some gossip. "Well, so that they don't go taking advantage of underaged wizards, but it comes in handy for other reasons,"
Ginny didn't know where she was going with this.
"You, Ginny, have carried the glow of an adult for the last week now," Fleur's smile cracked to show a perfect array of teeth. "So tell me, how deep do these complications with Harry go?"
Ginny stared blankly at her sister-in-law for nearly a minute, trying to figure out what the hell she was going on about.
"Let me see," Fleur said, pointing to Ginny's left hand.
"What?" she replied in confusion.
"Your hand, I want to see it,"
Ginny pulled her arm out from under her chest and showed off her hand.
Fleur frowned at the sight of it.
"I know they aren't like... manicured or anything, but I have nice tendons," Ginny defended, flexing her hand and admiring it. Fleur gaped at her, and Ginny was moderately offended. "And my knuckles are well defined," she continued, forming a fist and feeling the valleys in between her fingers.
Fleur broke out laughing again, muffling it with the throw pillow Ginny had tossed earlier. "You misunderstand my meaning, sister," she wheezed.
Ginny was not fond of being referred to as a sister. She sat up straight and cross her arms.
"Where is the ring?" Fleur clarified, showing off her own wedding band as an example.
Ginny was so genuinely blindsided by the question that she sat there, mouth ajar, waiting for a coherent reply to form in her head.
Naturally, the best she could come up with was, "What?"
It seemed to hit Fleur that Ginny truly didn't understand what she was on about, so she too sat up. "Your birthday is August eleventh, yes?"
Ginny nodded.
"And I sense that you're of age,"
Ginny nodded again, and said, "That's subjective though,"
Fleur waved her off. "So the only possible answer is that you are married,"
"No," Ginny answered hastily. "I am not married," she stood up and held her hands out in front of her.
Fleur smiled knowingly. "It is okay, Ginny. You can tell me,"
Ginny held up a finger and shook it, laughing despite herself. Quite literally nothing about this situation was funny. "Uh… no, actually, I cannot tell you,"
Fleur quirked her head to the side.
"Because I think I know what you're… sensing or whatever," Ginny gestured to herself, "And I sure as fuck can't tell you about it,"
"How come?" Fleur asked, her interest seemingly piqued.
Ginny scoffed hysterically, pulling at her hair in annoyance as she scrounged around for an answer. "Because… I don't even know what it is yet!" she shouted.
It was then that she realized she was being quite loud, and although everyone had silencing charms on their doors, except for her, of course, it didn't really matter.
"I am going to bed," Ginny announced, nodding to herself. She turned to the stairs before rounding back on Fleur. "And don't you say a word,"
Fleur was frowning now, but she bowed her head in acceptance all the same.
"Brilliant," Ginny mumbled to herself as she climbed the steps. "Just… bloody…" she opened the door to her room and closed it as quietly as possible.
"Because this is the only room in this house occupied by a person under the age of seventeen," Hermione's bored voice greeted her from the floor, "I heard all of that,"
Ginny closed her eyes and tapped her foot, trying not to snap at Hermione. "I am never having a heart-to-heart with Fleur. Ever,"
"That didn't really count as one," said Hermione, propping herself up on her elbows and smirking at Ginny. "It was more you going on about Harry for twenty minutes and her laughing at you,"
Ginny stepped over her friend and flopped onto her bed. Its worn-out springs creaked as it took her weight. "Yes well… if you ever catch me talking to her alone for an extended period of time I want you to come and save me,"
"I'll add that to my list of child-minding duties," Hermione said sweetly turning over to face Ginny, resting her head on her hand. "So what's this about marriage?"
"Me and Harry are not married," Ginny deadpanned into her mattress.
Hermione sighed. "Well obviously. When would you two have gotten the chance to sign the paperwork,"
"Thank you!" Ginny cried, holding her head in her hands.
Then, a terrible thought struck her.
She and Harry hadn't exactly signed any paperwork to have their souls connected.
"Ginny, are you alright?" Hermione asked, sitting up taller to get a better look at Ginny's pale face.
"No," she bit out. "I am going to try and fall asleep now, Hermione. We'll talk more in the morning?"
Hermione pursed her lips but agreed, and flopped back down onto her camp bed. There was a short pause before she said, "I expect a real conversation with you. Not whatever that was,"
"Yes Professor," Ginny replied.
Hermione huffed and turned away from Ginny.
"Harry, it looks like you've got a letter!" Charlie announced from the kitchen the next morning.
Ginny watched Harry stand, his longer-than-usual hair falling into his face, causing him to brush it back and hope it wouldn't fall again.
He took the letter from the owl and recoiled at the handwriting on the front of the envelope. She felt a spike of adrenaline through the bond and slowly put her fork down, watching him carefully.
"I'm actually surprised you haven't gotten more mail," said Bill, "I mean, you must have fanmail,"
Ron pointed at Hermione and laughed. She flushed and furiously asked, "What, Ron?"
"Lockhart," he coughed, causing Hermione to darken further.
Ginny ignored them and focused back on Harry. She could feel his anxiety growing as he eyed the envelope. "Who's it from?" she asked quietly.
Unfortunately, she spoke at a time when everyone's conversation had lapsed into silence, so they all heard it, turning to face Harry as he opened the letter.
"It's from my cousin," he mumbled, pulling the letter out from within and unfolding it.
His eyes ran across the first line, then the second, and just as he was about to reach halfway, he dropped the letter to the table and shot to hit feet. He pulled his wand out of his back pocket and summoned a light jacket.
"Harry?" Ginny, Ron, and Hermione asked in unison.
He shook his head at the three of them and headed for the door. Then, Ginny felt an odd emotion from Harry. The best she could describe it was desperate irritation. He turned on the spot and pointed at her. "Let's go,"
"Why does she get to go?" Ron asked incredulously.
Harry forced a smile at Ron and shrugged. "Brown nose?"
Ron's shoulders fell and he nodded as if this simple exchange was a fully-fledged intellectual conversation.
Ginny got up with a clatter, her chair fell to the floor behind her.
"Ginny!" Percy yelped, her plate of eggs falling all over him.
"Sorry!" she cried, bolting across the room and joining Harry at the door. He nodded at her and left the house.
His stride was much longer than hers now. Not like it hadn't been before, but he'd definitely grown during their year apart.
They reached the borders of The Burrow and he skidded to a stop. He held out his arm and Ginny took it, understanding that there was no time to lose.
Instead of immediately disapparating, Harry just stood there. His face set in a deep frown.
"Harry?" she asked, feeling their magic pulsate uncomfortably from the contact they shared. "What did the letter say?"
Harry tapped his foot a couple of times and ran his unoccupied hand down his face. "Dudley sent me a letter,"
"Yes, I know. Dudley as in your cousin,"
"Yes,"
"The one who bullied you your entire childhood," Ginny inquired.
"That's the one,"
"And what could he have possibly written you about that made you want to respond so… aggressively."
Harry shrugged. "Seemed urgent,"
Ginny loosened her grip on Harry's arm and looked around. "Doesn't seem to be all that urgent anymore,"
Harry shrugged again.
"Harry, what did he say?"
"Erm… well, he said my aunt and uncle are tossing everything of mine and I'm trying to remember if I left anything of value," Harry explained awkwardly.
Ginny nodded slowly. "Ah,"
Harry hummed.
"And another part of you is only making that excuse because your relatives' house is probably the last place on earth you'd ever want to go back to?" she guessed, looking up at him.
Harry swallowed and shook his head. His eyes seemed unfocused like he was lost in thoughts of somewhere far worse than the Dursleys.
"Do you want to go?" Ginny asked, squeezing his arm and inadvertently sending a shock through the both of them. Each jumping about a foot in the air from the exchange.
"Fucking hell, I'm getting sick of this thing," Harry said, rubbing his arm and scowling.
Ginny nodded. She couldn't agree more. Especially with the fact that at some point or another, they'd have to make the decision to avoid each other for the rest of their lives, or just stick with it and hope for the best.
There was a pregnant pause taken up by the two of them shaking out the stinging.
"Hold my arm lightly," Harry said quietly, holding out his hand again.
Ginny bit her lip. "Are you sure you want me to come?"
"What?"
"Well I mean," Ginny sighed, moving her shoe through the dirt, "I don't want to hurt you, you know, and like… if it's too much work to…" she placed her hand on her forehead and cringed. "I don't know what I'm saying."
Harry chuckled and scratched at the back of his neck nervously. It was rather cute. "Listen, I mean if you don't want to come you don't have to,"
"No, that's not what I'm saying,"
"Then what are you saying?" Harry asked, bewildered.
A sudden thought came to Ginny, then. Fleur had said she was of age the night prior, and there was a very simple way to determine the truth behind that.
"Harry,"
"Yes?" he shifted his weight, leaning into his hip. He looked absolutely ridiculous, but his arms were folded across his chest, and she didn't mind that one bit.
She shook her head, dispelling her intrusive thoughts. Some of that had to be influenced by the bond, surely. "I have an idea and I want you to be my Gina Pig,"
"Ginny… what?" Harry was smiling now.
She waved her hands nervously. "You know, those stupid little… runt things. Muggle expression."
"Guinea pig," Harry supplied, snickering.
Ginny waved him off. "You know what I mean,"
"Alright so what's your idea," Harry asked, his shoulders seemed to have relaxed at her fuck up. At least he was smiling, even if it was at her expense.
"I'm going to try to apparate to you,"
Harry's smile was immediately wiped off his face. "Ginny, do you even know how?"
She rolled her eyes. "Yes. I got the same amount of training as you did. Just wasn't able to take the test because my birthday is in August,"
"Right, but you're underage," Harry pointed out.
"Right, but I might not be," Ginny countered, pitching her voice to mimic Harry's.
The poor boy looked absolutely lost. "What?"
"Fleur thinks I'm of age," she blurted, setting her shoulders as if preparing for some sort of attack.
"Why?"
Ginny's face fell. "I don't know, but we might as well test it," this wasn't exactly true, of course. She had a sneaking suspicion that Fleur's assumption of marriage was really the bond forcing her to magically mature. It wasn't too out there to be a plausible explanation, even if it was rather daunting.
Surprisingly – or instead, unsurprisingly, considering his track record – Harry agreed to test it.
"Really?" she asked.
Harry grinned. "I mean, I feel like if I say no, you're going to test the whole 'of age' thing with a different spell and I'm not keen on finding out that way,"
Ginny gaped at him in outrage. "I would never hex you,"
"Bullshit," Harry quipped disapparating with a pop and startling her by appearing right behind her. "I could definitely piss you off enough to get hexed."
"Harry Potter, I grew up with six brothers who wouldn't let me fly because I was a girl for like… fourteen years. I can deal with you," Harry disapparated again and reappeared in front of her. If it was anyone else, she'd have worried about him splinching himself inside of her. She prodded his chest, producing yet another jolt of magic through the bond. "And you," she said through gritted teeth, trying and failing not to succumb to the bond's frustrations, "aren't my brother,"
Harry took a step back. "Good. I feel like it would be a bit weird if you saw me that way,"
Ginny liked seeing Harry smile like that. His head bowed slightly as if he was embarrassed but in truth, he was just having a really good time. She could feel herself blushing again and took a deep breath, breaking eye contact. For Merlin's sake, they'd gone out before, had admitted to still having feelings for one another, and she still felt like she was keeping some big secret. "Alright. I want you to apparate somewhere I don't know,"
"Like the Dursleys?" Harry asked, putting her plan together without him even needing to read her mind.
Ginny nodded. "Yes… eventually, but we're testing right now,"
"Right of course," Harry teased, puffing out his chest. What on earth had gotten him in such a good mood? Twenty minutes ago, he was panicking and running out of the house.
"Go somewhere nearby… the village, maybe?" Ginny offered. Harry thought for a moment and nodded. "Then… wait for two minutes and if I'm not there, come back here,"
"Sounds good, professor," he said, and he disappeared with a quiet pop.
She smiled to herself at hearing Harry use one of her own comebacks naturally. She wondered if he even remembered that it was her who'd first said it around him, not like it was her invention, but he'd found it hilarious.
That was her fourth year, his fifth. It was probably the first time in months that she'd properly thought of Harry. He just thought she was incredibly funny. Which, she wasn't about to brush off the compliment, but he had to know that most of what she said was generic, right?
She rolled her eyes at her own thoughts and paced for a moment before remembering the task at hand.
For a moment she approached the subject like Hermione. Trying to recall the three D's. That didn't last long before impatience got the better of her, and she forced herself to stand still, and just go off instinct.
She didn't know where Harry was. Despite her apparent innocence in the matter, she had read that soul bond book more times than she could count. She had her own copy, as a matter of fact.
Harry didn't need to know that.
One of the many reasons her mind should remain hers, and hers alone.
"Argh!" she yelled, trying to focus back on apparition. She'd done it before.
Find Harry.
In the book, the man, Mr. Farcey, could always find his bondmate, (not a term of Ginny's choice) through the magic within him. It was the climax of the story, and was incredibly emotional but right now, that wasn't the point.
She took a deep breath, calming her thoughts and slowing down her heart rate. Her magic wasn't a difficult thing to bring up these days. Through the emotional turmoil and the fact that she'd been on edge for a year, it was constantly boiling at the surface.
A warm, comforting feeling. That's what magic felt like. While simultaneously radiating power. She held onto it and tried to work through it. The best way to describe it was as if all her senses were being activated at once. Each doing their part in exploring this force.
She felt the bond at a seemingly random point along her journey. Multiple strands of her magic felt as though they were moving toward this branch that had sprouted off of her.
Feeling encouraged by the fact that methods from a work of fiction from the nineteenth century were working, she followed the branch. The magic changed textures. Like she was running her hand through someone else's hair. She could still feel trace elements of her own magic there, but most of it was new.
Harry's.
She essentially tightened her grip on the bridge and turned on the spot.
It was a miraculously smooth transition. While usually, it felt like your lungs were being crushed while your body was run over by the Hogwarts Express, this was like sliding through a tunnel of blankets.
She appeared silently next to Harry. Who looked as though he'd seen an inferius.
"I did it!" she whispered excitedly, attempting to conceal their location in this muggle alley. "Are you alright?"
Harry's eyes met hers and nodded. "Yeah… yeah, I'm alright."
"Don't lie to me,"
Harry rolled his eyes. "Had another vision,"
Ginny hummed dispassionately.
"But hey," Harry's lips curved up into a smile. "You made it!" he walked around her, eyeing her from head to toe, "And you made it in one piece."
Ginny nodded, still thinking about the visions Harry was facing. Even when they hadn't been blocking each other out, she could never see what they were. Only a pair of red eyes.
"Now you can go to your relatives, and I can follow,"
Harry pursed his lips and rolled up the sleeves of his jacket. "Alright. I'll see you in a bit."
Harry disapparated again and Ginny was left alone.
She felt a touch uncomfortable with the fact that the book had gotten so much right up until this point. Then there was the whole matter of not receiving any warning for her use of underaged magic.
Fleur may have been right.
There was no time to dwell on that now, however. She repeated the same tedious exploration of her magic, found the magical bridge between her and Harry, and disapparated.
She arrived standing beside Harry in a dimly lit alleyway.
"This way," Harry whispered, striding towards the street. "This is where me and Dudley were attacked by dementors, by the way,"
"What a fun fact," Ginny mumbled under her breath, stuffing her hands in her pockets, as though the mere thought of the wretched creatures made everything cold.
They stepped and made their way across the street and down a lane of nearly identical houses. Each with various automobiles parked out front. Their gardens were all left perfectly manicured. Their hedges were trimmed and everything.
"This is where you grew up?" Ginny asked in horrified disbelief. She knew it was bland from Ron and the twins' descriptions of the place, but she'd always figured they'd exaggerated. If anything, they hadn't made it clear enough how dreadful Privet Drive truly was. There were no trees. At least none tall enough to matter.
Harry had loved The Burrow from the very start. From the orchard to the gnomes to the way it was built. He'd always loved it. Now it made even more sense.
She felt blocked off from nature. In some ways, it was worse than Grimmauld Place.
"Yup," Harry confirmed, he was counting the houses with his eyes.
Ginny decided to keep her thoughts to herself for now.
Harry's confident march drifted to the left side of the road before finally he slowed his stride and stepped over a decorative fence to the home of Number 4 Privet Drive.
He sidled up to the door and frowned again. "I mean really, I doubt I left anything here,"
Ginny put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow.
"What's this?" Harry asked, gesturing to her.
"It's my nagging mother stance. It's supposed to instill fear and obedience in the hearts of men,"
Harry stared at her for a few beats before turning back to the door, "Right," he said, holding a staring contest with the number four.
Ginny could feel the waves of anxiety pouring through the bond. No matter how well they avoided physical contact or kept the bond itself contained, emotions would always move freely.
"Do you want me to knock?" she asked as his hesitation only continued to strain the bond.
Harry shook his head, raised his fist, and rapped it against the door three times.
He stuffed his hands in his pockets and waited, Ginny stepped up next to him and felt his anxiety waver slightly. The bond was doing what it was supposed to. A rare thing that was.
The sound of pounding footsteps and muffled conversation came from within, and sure enough, the door was wrenched open.
A large man with many chins and greying hair stood before them. He had a distinctly unpleasant air about him that Ginny wasn't entirely fond of.
"Hello Uncle Vernon," Harry greeted as he squinted up at the man.
Vernon's eyes narrowed on Harry, jumped to Ginny, then looked behind the pair to see if anyone was in view.
Ginny refused to turn and see for herself, but judging by the subtle purplish hue that had crept up his neck, someone must have been in listening distance.
"Get inside," he growled, stepping back into his house and leaving enough room for them to enter.
Harry threw Ginny a cautionary glance as if he was warning her of some terrible fate that had yet to reveal itself, but she followed him anyway.
They were in a narrow hallway. To the right was a set of stairs to the second floor, while ahead of them was presumably the kitchen and sitting area. Another door, which was shut at the moment, stood off to the left. And then there was a cupboard door under the stairs.
"What the devil are you doing here!?" Vernon spat. Chunks of spittle flew everywhere, causing Harry to recoil slightly and close his eyes.
"I was invited," Harry replied calmly.
Vernon huffed. "Likely story," he rounded on Ginny. "And who's this?"
"Ginny Weasley," she said, extending her hand for him to shake. "It's a pleasure," her tone was delightfully pained. She didn't smile. She didn't show any apparent interest in meeting this man, even though she'd been curious for many years now.
Vernon, as expected, didn't shake her hand. "Who are you to him?"
Ginny opened her mouth to respond but Harry interrupted. "When have you ever cared about anyone or anything that's mattered to me?"
Vernon immediately reacted, raising his fists, not in an attempt to hit Harry, but just to scare him.
Harry was having none of that. He reached for his wand so fast all Ginny saw was a blurred motion. Its tip was pressing against Vernon's trembling throat.
"None of that, Dursley," said Harry quietly. "You know full well I can do whatever I want to you now,"
"That's not true, and I know it!" Vernon spluttered. "You can't attack normal people! You'll get sent to prison!"
Ginny stepped forward and pushed Vernon by his pudgy chest, forcing him to take a step back. "I highly doubt they'd send the savior of the Wizarding World…" she paused and brought a hand to her mouth in feigned shock, "and your world, to prison. Would be a bit of a risky move politically, if you ask me,"
Vernon rubbed at his chest as if Ginny had punched him. His eyes darted from Harry to Ginny and back again. "Oh, I get it now…" he scoffed, sneering at the two of them. "You're with him. Let me guess, you went around and got yourself knocked up?" he eyed Ginny's clothing scathingly, "Trying to get in on his fame,"
Harry stuffed his wand in his back pocket and turned on the spot, grabbing Ginny by the elbow as he did so. "Fuck off," Harry shouted over his shoulder as he guided her up the stairs.
Ginny was furious. She'd been teased for her crush on Harry before and had been verbally assaulted while going out with him at Hogwarts, but this was different.
This was Harry's uncle. One of the few people responsible for who Harry was today. Of course, she understood that Harry didn't seem to feel any real connection to him, but she'd sort of wished she'd made a good impression. Whether she'd known that coming in was another question entirely, but she felt as though she'd failed some sort of test.
This only infuriated her further.
"You should have let me defend myself," she hissed as they made their way down a hallway toward a door covered in locks.
Harry stopped in front of said door and held her by the shoulders. The sting from the bond was less painful than usual. "I will," he said consolingly, "but I want to get my stuff before you burn the house down,"
Ginny smiled grudgingly and turned to the door to distract herself. "What the fuck is this," she pointed at the locks.
"To keep the cat in," Harry answered, pointing at the cat flap that Ginny hadn't noticed before. He waved his wand over the locks and opened the door. It creaked on its hinges, letting the light from the hall illuminate the dingy contents of Harry's childhood bedroom.
There were dishes on the floor, as well as blankets and strewn about clothing. Old Hogwarts robes, quills, and other stationery.
There was a bookshelf on the left. Most of it was full of broken muggle toys and discarded letters, but on the top was a single patch of wooden surface that held far less dust than the rest.
Ginny stepped in after Harry, who had already made his way to his nightstand.
She ran her finger along the shelf, already knowing the answer to the dust mystery.
This must have been where Hedwig's cage used to sit.
The scraping of a large object caught her attention, and she whirled around to see Harry pulling his trunk from out under his bed. He opened it, revealing a disorganized mess of things that reminded Ginny of her own trunk.
He sat back on his knees and ran his hands over it. "I'm going to keep this," he said, seemingly to himself.
"I think that's a good idea," said Ginny, coming to sit next to him. "Plus, it doubles as a way to carry everything out,"
Harry nodded and again drew his wand. This time, he waved it in a distinct pattern. The spell went on for ages. It must have been incredibly high-level charmwork because once it was finally over, he had to sit back and take a moment.
"What did you do?" Ginny asked curiously.
"Undetectable extension charm," he answered. "Hermione taught me,"
And so began the long process of sorting through everything that was worth keeping and what was worth vanishing entirely. They made quick work of his closet, as well as plenty of moldy forgotten dishes they'd found.
Harry explained that everything on the shelf, with the exception of a practice snitch and an incredibly expensive broomstick maintenance kit, which he hadn't known was so high-end, belonged to Dudley.
"I wonder where he is…" Harry trailed off, zoning out as he looked at the snitch.
Then, his shoulders drooped, and his face went blank. He let his arm drop and the snitch fell to the floor, its wings fluttering feebly on impact.
"Harry?" Ginny asked, recognizing the effects of another vision. "Harry!"
Then, the triangular rune on his neck, which hadn't faded at all since the battle, began to glow. It glowed like the logs left over after a campfire. Ginny reached out and grabbed his arm.
Nothing happened.
She reached further down and grabbed his hand. Enabling direct skin-to-skin contact.
He immediately came to. Righting himself and breathing for the first time since he'd picked up the practice snitch.
He leaned against the bookshelf and caught his breath. "Thanks,"
Ginny placed her hands on either side of his face and was met with no stinging or discomfort, but a steady and continuous flow of power. The Bond was strengthening again. They'd spent more time around each other today than they had since the days following the battle. True, they hadn't communicated mentally once, but that must not be the only way to develop the bond.
"Are you sure you shouldn't talk to anyone about these visions?" she asked, brushing his hair back.
"It's nothing to be concerned about," he said, but there was enough doubt left in his voice for Ginny to know the truth.
"Harry, your rune," she pointed to the triangular eye. "It glowed red,"
Harry swallowed. "That's new, I take it?"
"I'd assume so,"
Harry hummed and reached up to wrap his hands around Ginny's wrists, taking them off his face and turning them so he could hold her hands. Again, the Bond warmed the two of them. It pulsated like another heart. "I'll think about it,"
Ginny sighed and pulled out of his grasp, moving to his nightstand to continue the purge. She knew that Harry thinking about asking for help was the best she'd get for now. There was no point harping on about it.
They worked for a while longer. His nightstand held the most items that took real time to handle. Some were insignificant pieces of parchment while others were precious photographs he'd left behind.
In one of the drawers, there were hundreds of letters. Slowly but surely, they made their way through each and every single one of them.
It was odd that there were so few from her. In fact, she only counted one and it was from right before her fourth year. Harry, in a last-ditch attempt at getting information, had written her asking for anything she could give him on Voldemort, Sirius, and the Ministry.
"Your response was probably my favourite, to be honest," Harry said after reading the letter over her shoulder. "You were the only one who didn't lie or hide anything,"
He was right about that. The letter read, "I'm not allowed to tell you anything and that's not just me following the rules it's also a load of really powerful magic holding me back. Plus, I'm allowed in on even less than the others, so I feel your pain."
Harry ultimately decided to keep that letter, but Ginny felt off-kilter knowing that that was the only time they'd ever corresponded by owl.
There were hundreds of them. From Ron and Hermione to Dean and Seamus. Hell, Tonks had written to Harry more than she had.
It felt like she was barely a part of his life. Yet now here she sat, in his bedroom, helping him sort out his things, with an unknown magical force binding them together.
But when she looked up from her hands and saw Harry reading and re-reading her brief letter with a stupid grin on his face, she decided it didn't really matter.
They were finally done. Harry vanished his broken bed frame, along with its rotten mattress. He got rid of his lopsided dresser and scratched-up nightstand. The room was entirely empty, except for Dudley's shelf, of course.
He closed and locked his trunk before shrinking it down to the size of his palm and sliding it into his jeans pocket.
"Ready to go?" he asked. Despite the fact that he was smiling, all Ginny could feel through the bond was a confused sadness.
She nodded, stepping out of the room and once again looking at the cat flap. "What happened to the cat?"
Harry chuckled and closed the door behind him. "We never had a cat,"
Ginny screwed her face up in confusion. "Then what was it for?"
She felt a sort of shame build in Harry. It didn't take long for her to put the pieces together. "Wow, I might actually burn this house down," she said, pushing past Harry and flying down the stairs. She held onto the banister to help herself swing around down the hallway, towards the kitchen.
She slammed the door open, its glass panes vibrating behind her, and stomped towards Vernon, who was standing helping a tall, horribly skinny woman with fading blonde hair and a horse-like face.
They noticed her and flattened their backs against a large metallic object, probably for cooking, Ginny didn't know.
She didn't care.
She whipped her wand out and leveled it on the pair of them. There was so much she wanted to say and do to these people but none of it could get from her brain to her tongue in time.
She heard Harry rush in after her but faltered at the sight before him.
Ginny just stared at Harry's aunt and uncle. A slow-building pressure behind her eyes.
Vernon didn't show any emotion besides fear. His wife, however, seemed to understand all of what was written on Ginny's face.
So, she turned her wand on Harry's aunt instead. "All you had to do…" Ginny swallowed past the lump in her throat. "All you had to do was love him,"
The woman didn't move, but Ginny could see it in her eyes. She knew what she'd done.
Ginny broke eye contact and glanced around as she cast about for more to say. "Do you have any idea how easy that is? Do you have any idea who has been living with you all this time?"
The woman looked down at the floor.
"I don't even want to know your name," Ginny said harshly, her voice cracking as she fought back tears. They weren't worth crying over. "I just hope you regret it,"
Then, she lowered her wand and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. She turned to leave and stopped midway to Harry. She looked over her shoulder and said, "And your house is shit, by the way. It's ugly and bland, and I hate it,"
She flounced past Harry and through the hallway. She opened the front door and stepped onto the driveway, letting the fresh air wash over her with her eyes closed.
Who gave a fuck about making an impression if those were the people she was meant to care enough about to impress. Hell, she hoped they hated her. It was vindictive, sure, but satisfying.
"Are you alright?" Harry's voice broke her out of her stupor. She felt his emotions roiling off him like a hot stew.
"Yes, I'm fine,"
"You're turning into me," he said, his voice carrying a smile.
Ginny snickered and reached around his waist. She didn't need to open her eyes to know where he was. She just knew. "My bad,"
Harry mirrored her actions and pulled her close against him, leaning his head on hers.
"What took you so long to come out?" she asked quietly, reveling in the warmth the partially developed bond provided.
"I wanted to let them know that I'm not coming back. That I don't owe them any money, and that I don't want to hear from them," he explained
There was a lack of finality to what he'd said. "What else?"
Harry chuckled. "I told them to tell Dudley to write to me whenever… and then my aunt said you were good for me,"
Maybe Ginny had lied to herself a bit. It did feel nice to hear that, whether it was meant as an insult or not.
As they walked back down the street towards the deserted alley, arm in arm, Ginny asked, "Did you really only invite me to come along because you feel like you've got to suck up to me?"
Harry let out a bark of laughter. "No, definitely not,"
"Then why did you?"
Harry smirked and wiped at his nose absently. "Erm, well, I'd sort of hoped you'd burn it to the ground,"
"Oh!" Ginny stopped walking. "We can go back?"
"No, it's alright,"
"No, no really, Harry, we can go back,"
Harry laughed and kept walking to the alley. "Come on, Ginny."
A/N: I'm actually quite proud of my Pride and Prejudice reference with Mr. Farcey. (Farce: A comic dramatic work using buffoonery and horseplay… etc, etc) ANYWAY, I think I'm funny.
Moving on.
I didn't want them to cover the cupboard under the stairs, or anything THAT directly. I wanted to give Ginny more credit than that. I'm also just so sick of the "Ugh you lived in a cupboard!" realization scene. Like, guys, you're best friends with this kid. You know he was neglected and abused. I find it incredibly irritating when this whole Dursleys bad thing is played so heavily.
So here it's a bit less in your face, and a bit more Harry and Ginny focused. After all, if they dwelled on the Dursleys for too long, it would seem like Harry hasn't actually moved on. I believe that he has.
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