Love Vow

by TheFirstSolution

Harry is offered the power of the Geass from a girl in the middle of the street one day. Now with the ability to make every woman fall in love with him just by being in his presence, his life in thrown into a spiral of romance, drama and broken expectations. Every female in Hogwarts seems to want a piece of him, whilst dark plots brew under the shadow of the Triwizard Tournament.

2. Chapter 2

Author's notes:

Harry attends the Quidditch World Cup and gets to know better his best friend's sister, Ginny Weasley.

---

"And Parvati wrote that she thinks her parents are keeping some secret from her," Rony said from his position laying next to her. "She said they keep smiling whenever they talk about Hogwarts. She's afraid they've arranged some betrothal for her."

Harry exhaled sharply. "What? What does that have to do with Hogwarts?"

"Huh? Everything? Don't be dense, mate," she said, turning her head to look at him. "It could very well be a boy from school, couldn't it? Her dad works at the Ministry, and lots of other dads do too. Do the math."

Harry laughed a little then. He turned to face her.

"What math? That she's fourteen?" Harry said, raising an eyebrow. "Parvati—and you—are overreacting; no one's getting married. You told me marriage contracts aren't even a thing in the wizarding world."

"Well, not anymore," Rony conceded, a bit of color coming to her cheeks. "But it was once, okay? Who's to say her parents won't try to bring it back?"

Harry smiled. "I say. Parvati is not getting a marriage contract. And neither are you, nor Ginny, or Hermione. And if you are, I'll talk to Mr. Weasley so that you get married off to me."

Rony punched him in the arm. "Ouch!"

"Arse, who said anything about me?"

Harry rubbed the spot, laughing. "Sorry, sorry."

"Oi, do you mind?! Some of us are trying to sleep here!" One of the twins shouted from his bed.

"Sorry, George," Harry threw back.

There was some rustling from the bed, then a muffled, "I'm Fred."

Harry and Rony tried to stifle their laughter and not upset her brothers any further. The moon hung high in the sky outside the Twins' bedroom, and owls hooted in the distance—the only other sound trying to break the night's peace around the Burrow. Inside her brothers' room, the two teens lay side-by-side in silence, their backs to the mattress while they watched the enchanted drawings of Muggle cars play their usual game of race on the ceiling.

Harry remembered the first time he had slept there, in the summer before his second year at Hogwarts. After a turbulent break out of his relatives' house, they—the twins, Rony, and Harry—had arrived at a crowded Burrow; Mr. and Mrs. Weasley naturally shared a bedroom, as did the twins; Rony and Ginny shared one too; and only Percy had a whole room for himself. The adults then decided to bunk Harry with the older teen. Except that turned out to be a mistake after Percy's numerous complaints that Harry and Rony would not allow him to study in peace after-hours, and in the end, Harry moved to Fred and George's room.

He smiled to himself, recalling how he and Rony would stay awake until late, talking about Quidditch until Mrs. Weasley came to drag her back to her own bedroom. As time went on, however, sometimes she would forget, and Rony would fall asleep with the twins and Harry. It was a summer of fond memories for him.

But times and people change. Only two years prior, he could sleep right next to Rony as innocently as a brother, and although he still thought of himself that way, his body had in itself begun to betray him.

As if on cue, his eyes fell to the strained bust and the generous amount of cleavage escaping from the top of her pajamas. Those were the times when Harry wished the Weasleys had a little more money so their children wouldn't have to wear clothes that were a few sizes too small and exposed too much skin.

His only choice was to avert his eyes and pretend not to be bothered.

This was not a new development for Harry, however. His torment began as early as that second year, right after the Heir of Slytherin announced to the whole school that Ginny had been taken to the Chamber of Secrets, never to return. They were twelve then, but even his young and grief-struck brain could not stop itself from noticing how nice Rony's quickly-developing body felt as she clung to him and cried her eyes out against his neck. That night, he had left her sleeping in Gryffindor's Tower and descended with Lockhart to fight the Heir, but nothing remained a more vivid memory than the soft feeling of Rony's chest against his own. It probably didn't help that Rony herself would remind him of it every time she drew him into one of her bear hugs she seemed to have inherited from her mother.

"I can't wait to go to the World Cup," said Rony, taking Harry away from his thoughts.

"Me neither," he said.

"I wish we could go tomorrow."

"There's no point though, the game's only in two days," Harry said.

"I know, but..." Rony said, pouting.

"D'you think we'll meet the guys from school?" Harry inquired after a moment.

"Maybe," she replied. "Doesn't matter, because we won't stay in the stands anyway. Dad said our tickets are for the Minister's cabin."

"Wow."

"Why?" Rony said, looking at him from the corner of her eyes. "Anyone you wanna meet?"

"What?" Harry said. "Not really. Just wondering. You?"

"Nah," she said, "I'm alright. I can wait another month to see the same old faces."

Harry didn't reply. In fact, there was someone he wanted to meet again as fast as he could, but he knew better than to talk about seeing an "enemy player," as Rony would say, right in the most competitive Quidditch place in the world. Harry never quite got why his best friend disliked Cho Chang, the Ravenclaw Seeker, so much; he guessed the girl was too competitive for her own good, and so he preferred to leave his crush out of the conversation most of the time.

"Hermione's coming tomorrow," said Rony. "After breakfast, I think."

Harry noted the even tone of his friend's voice; it almost made him sigh. There was no advice given to him more than "Stay away from birds' business" during his three years of school. It was only natural after it became the standard for him to hang out more with two girls than his male dorm mates. He lost count of how many times he had heard it from one of the upper years, especially Fred and George, every time Rony and Hermione seemed to give each other the cold shoulder for whatever reason. He'd always get stuck in the middle with no idea what to do. "Do nothing, stay away from birds' business, let them sort it out among themselves; don't pick a side," had been his modus operandi so far, and so far, it had worked.

The first year was bad. Rony and Hermione instantly despised each other for no apparent reason. Okay, maybe not for no reason; as Harry recalls, Hermione kept trying to show off during classes and lecture Rony on various subjects, and Rony, in turn, would make fun of anything related to the girl. Harry recalled how vicious Rony had gotten at some point, managing to drive the other girl into hiding in the girls' restroom to cry her feelings away. It had led to Harry saving Hermione from a troll attack and the two becoming friends. The guilt of almost indirectly killing the girl had forced Rony to apologize, clearing the waters a bit between the two. Although the girls never truly became friends, at least not until the end of the year, when the three braved the trapdoor below Fluffy to save the Philosopher's Stone. Even with everything they went through after that, it only got that bad again after Harry was gifted his Firebolt and Hermione had it confiscated by McGonagall. The girls' fight was a sight to behold and only didn't switch from words to spells due to the prefects' timely arrival. Their relationship had been cold ever since, and Harry suspected that even though he had long forgiven Hermione, Rony hadn't.

"I wonder how Mr. Weasley's taking so many people," he said, hoping to avoid the conversation.

"I didn't think she'd want to go," Rony said as though she didn't hear him. "I mean, she doesn't even like Quidditch that much, right?"

Harry knew answering that question was a trap. Agree with Rony and she would keep going for a while; defend Hermione and he would upset Rony; and Hmm'ing a response would have the same effect as agreeing, except Rony would still be upset he didn't agree with her. So he played his last card.

"Maybe she's going to see Viktor Krum?"

Rony furrowed her brow at him. "Does she even know who Viktor Krum is?"

"He's pretty famous. You said so yourself."

Rony brought a finger to her chin. "Hmm, maybe she does. He is actually really famous and only a couple years older than us. Youngest seeker playing for..."

And that was Harry's clue. With Rony's attention successfully diverted for the moment, he opened his mouth wide and yawned, before closing his eyes. As he expected, she did not pursue the discussion, and a couple minutes later he felt her head lightly touch his shoulder, signaling she had settled down to sleep. Safe under his second favorite roof in the world and with his best friend next to him, it wasn't long before Harry drifted to the land of dreams.

000000

He woke up with a warm feeling on his face. Sunlight flashed through the open windows, shining over wardrobes, desks, and unmade beds alike. Rony's familiar scent of strawberries lingered next to him, but her side had long gone cold. Everyone else had already woken up, it seemed. Still drowsy from sleep, he picked up a towel and walked to the bathroom.

The Burrow's bathroom could only be described as fitting for the house it belonged to. The sink and the toilet had four, perhaps five, feet between them, the vanity's wooden cabinet adding to the sensation of crampiness. The old tarnished mirror sparkled in the morning light, and a curtain hid the bath he knew to exist on the north side of the cubicle.

Harry bent over the sink, resting his weight on his arms and bringing his face closer to its reflection. The mirror was hazy, the warm and damp air of the bathroom clouding it; someone must have just taken a bath before him. He slid his palm over the surface, clearing a patch.

Still there.

The flying eagle of the Geass stared back at him, shining red inside his right eye. After confirming no one else could see it the day before, Harry hadn't quite forgotten about it after reuniting with the families of redheads, but the day before, with all the excitement of coming back and the ruckus of dinner in the garden, he had pushed the matter to the back of his head.

The truth was, his power worried him. He had no idea how the Geass would work now. On Aunt Petunia, he had surmised—quite wildly, to be honest—that his desire to be loved by her had had an effect on the woman. Here, everyone already loved him (at least he hoped so). He didn't need to repair a relationship with Mrs. Weasley, Rony, Hermione, or Ginny. The Geass hadn't affected Uncle Vernon or Dudley, but would it act the same way toward the male members of the family? He could only wait now to see how it would turn out.

Harry stepped out of his pyjamas, baring his body to the warm air. He pushed the curtains open abruptly and raised a leg to enter the magically filled bath.

Pink flesh, slightly reddened by the scalding water. The freckles covered the small, delicate shoulders, traveling down until they disappeared under the water. Damp crimson hair stuck to a calm, relaxed face. Head resting against the wall, neck bent backwards over the edge of the bathtub.

Slowly, she turned to face him, her lazy eyes opening to meet his. Bright brown meeting emerald green.

No one moved. No one breathed.

Her eyes dropped down his body, past his neck, chest, and abs, to stop someplace below his navel.

Seconds passed, and Harry saw clear as day the blood rushing up to Ginny Weasley's head, her skin going to a shade of red matching her hair.

Harry slammed the curtains shut.

"Sorry!" he shouted as he tried to put on the bottom of his pyjamas again and run out of the bathroom at the same time.

It was many minutes before he felt safe enough to leave the twins' room again. He forsook the bath altogether and went down directly to the garden, where the family had meals when the kitchen became too small for the number of people in the house.

He followed the voices outside. The smell of bacon and eggs assaulted his nostrils, and Harry took a deep breath to appreciate the finer things in life before crossing to the outside.

Under the gentle morning sun, the Weasleys' scrubbed wooden table was almost as full as it had been the night before when the whole family plus Harry had dinner under the stars. Mr. Weasley sat at the head of the table, a cup of tea and half-eaten toast lying in front of him; in his hands, an open Daily Prophet hid his face from Harry's eyes. Charlie and Bill, whom he had met the day before, occupied the two sides of their father, each fully dressed and apparently ready for the day. They seemed to be talking about something related to Bill's job with Gringotts. Percy was ready too, judging from the business-like robe he wore and his empty plate; he too had a Prophet in his hands, held in the same style his father did. Fred and George sat side-by-side like always, whispering to each other, oddly quiet. Rony was the closest to the entrance, hunched over her breakfast, assaulting an innocent sandwich; she was in pyjamas, like him. Mrs. Weasley was the only one standing, arranging food on the table. She was the first to see him.

"Good morning, Harry, dear," she said with a kind smile.

All the redheads turned to him.

"Good morning, Mrs. Weasley," he said. "Everyone."

A round of "Morning, Harry"s later, he took the vacant seat beside Rony.

"So, Percy," said Harry, filling his plate with toast and jelly. "You going to work today?"

Percy put down his journal. "Mr. Crouch needs me at the ministry today," he said, raising his nose. "It's imperative that I'm there to oversee the printing of the manifest for cauldron thickness."

"It's Saturday, Percy," said Rony. "Mr. Crouch isn't even at the Ministry."

Percy's cheeks flushed pink. "He still appointed me to carry out the task, and I shall see it through to the very best of my abilities."

"I'm sure Mr. Crouch can't go about his day without thinking about how the manifest is going," Fred said.

Percy opened his mouth to reply, but Mrs. Weasley interrupted him, setting down a large cake on the table.

"Now, boys," she said. "Behave yourselves. Harry, dear, would you like some cake? I still think you should eat up more; those dreadful muggles didn't feed you nearly enough as always."

She rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly.

"Thanks, Mrs. Weasley," Harry said. "I think I'll have some."

Ginny appeared from the house as Harry was on his second slice. Cheeks still quite pink, she refused to even look in his general direction as she sat on the other side of the table next to Charlie.

"Father, any news on those mass oblivion cases?" said Percy, perhaps to make a show that he knew of other ministry business.

"Still nothing, I'm afraid," said Mr. Weasley. "That one had been driving Director Bones up the wall; I've heard she's considering employing the aid of the Auror Office, but nothing's concrete yet..."

"Any dark wizards about?" Charlie spoke up.

"Merlin, I hope not, son," Mr. Weasley said, shaking his head. "And those poor muggles..."

"What happened?" Harry asked, unable to suppress his curiosity.

"There have been a number of attacks on groups of muggles this summer," explained Percy. "They've all been found obliviated out of their senses and unable to even form sentences. A fate worse than death, Mr. Crouch said."

"Now, we don't know if they were attacks," said Mr. Weasley. "For all we know, they might be accidents or simple misuse of magic. I agree with Amelia that it's wise to wait before declaring someone is targeting muggles."

"What about Black? Isn't he still at large in Britain?" asked Bill. Harry and Rony shared a nervous look.

"I don't think so," said Mr. Weasley. "Word is Shacklebolt is tracking him down through Eastern Europe."

Harry fought back a smile. From his letters, Sirius seemed to be enjoying a jolly old time somewhere warm with lots of palm trees and bikini-clad women.

"Well, whatever it is," said Percy. "It would be best to solve this as soon as possible; St. Mungus can only host so many empty-headed muggles. Not to say what those unchecked incidents might mean for that event."

"There he goes again," murmured Rony. Louder she said, "Oi, Percy, no one cares about your cauldron exhibition, you can stop trying to be secretive about it."

"It is not a cauldron exhibition," said Percy through clenched teeth.

"Is it a report exhibition?" said Fred.

"A Mr. Crouch exhibition?" said George.

Percy went red again, and the table—sans Mr. and Mrs. Weasley—laughed and chuckled at the boy's predicament. Amidst the good mood, Harry caught Ginny's eyes, and the girl promptly looked away, color returning to her cheeks.

The laughter died down, and Harry cleared his throat. "So, how's Hermione coming?"

Mr. Weasley put his paper down and checked his wristwatch.

"She should be coming through the floo anytime soon," said Mr. Weasley. "We've managed to link her house's fireplace to the network this summer. When you kids finish up, we can wait for her in the living room—sounds good?"

About half an hour—and a thankfully unoccupied bath—later, Harry stood in the living room together with Rony and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. They all watched the fireplace expectantly—well, maybe not all, for Rony had brought a copy of the Witch Weekly and sat on the couch, lazily flipping the pages as she alternated between actually looking at the magazine and stealing glances at the fire.

Luckily, they didn't wait too long. A sudden bright flash of green appeared, and a figure spun out of the fireplace, almost stumbling onto the carpet but managing to catch herself just in time. Hermione took a moment to gather her bearings, looking around the living room, her long, bushy brown hair swinging left and right.

Examining the girl, Harry couldn't be happier to see his summer predictions had been right.

Hermione had begun to really develop at the beginning of the year. Her previously lean legs began filling the pants she liked to use on the weekends nicely over the course of the term, and now thick thighs threatened to burst her skin-tight jeans. Her hips had widened, and a small gap could be seen between her legs. The jumper she chose to wear hid her slim waist and the slightly tanned skin she gets every summer in France.

Pushing down a flush, Harry caught her eyes and returned the bright smile she was shooting him.

"Hermione, be welcome, my dear!" Mrs. Weasley took a step forward to embrace the thinner girl.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley," she replied, struggling a bit to push her breath out.

"Welcome, Hermione," said Mr. Weasley warmly.

"Thanks, Mr. Weasley."

Rony threw her magazine to the side and rose up to face her friend. Disentangling from the older woman, Hermione turned to her. There was a quick but long moment where they stared at each other.

"Rony," said Hermione. She smiled at the redhead and walked over to hug her as well.

"Hi, Hermione," Rony said back.

Hermione finally turned to face him, her pearly whites wide open. Her trunk hit the floor as she practically jumped at him, catching him in a hug perhaps tighter than Mrs Weasley's had been. Harry involved her waist with his arms, returning the affectionate gesture, and breathed deeply into her jasmine-scented hair.

"Hello, Harry!" she said, beaming, and let go.

"Hey, Hermione."

"Hermione, dear, are you hungry? The boys and Ginny are still outside having breakfast," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, but I've eaten already," she said.

"Your parents didn't have any problems with the floo, did they?" asked Mr. Weasley. "We went to pick Harry up from his relatives; they had this—how do you call it, Harry? Eccletic fire?"

Harry chuckled. "Electric fire, sir."

"That's it! Blocked our floo—ended up being a big mess that one..." said the older wizard.

"Everything was perfect, Mr. Weasley," said Hermione, then shot a playful smirk at Harry. "Though I'd think Harry would warn his relatives about the floo."

Before Harry could retort with an insolent remark, Mr. Weasley said:

"Harry didn't know we would use the network to get him. Although, now that you mention it, didn't I tell you to warn Harry, Rony?"

Rony shrugged.

Mrs. Weasley shook her head at her daughter. "Rony, go show Hermione the girl's room," she said, then turned to the other teen, smiling once again. "Please make yourself at home, dear."

Hermione nodded, and the adults left the room to go about their business. The three teens looked at each other for a moment, then Harry moved to pick up the bushy-haired girl's trunk.

"Thank you, Harry," said Hermione, raising an eyebrow and sounding impressed.

Rony rolled her eyes. "Such a gentleman," she said.

The three made their way to the bedroom that Ginny and her sister usually slept in. Rony at the front, followed by Hermione, and Harry at the rear.

And what a rear!

As they went up the stairs, Harry couldn't quite look away from the behind that swung right and left with each step up. For such a slim girl, Hermione packed a lot of meat in her lower body. Long, strong legs supported one of the fullest and most shapely arses Harry had the pleasure of setting his eyes on, and the jeans trying to contain it only added to the impression of tightness the two globes seemed to want him to have. It probably feels better than Aunt Petunia's. And Harry did not think that lightly, as he had enjoyed the grown woman's rear entrance to his heart's content and never had a single complaint about it.

Far too quickly, they arrived at the girl's room, and Harry had to take his eyes off that piece of anatomical perfection lest it became too obvious he had been looking. That was a conversation he did not want to have. He settled the trunk over Rony's bed and watched as the redhead struggled to take a mattress from under her sister's bed.

"So, how was France, Hermione?" He said to break the silence.

"Oh, it was lovely, Harry," said the girl excitedly. "We went to this town down to the south of the country that had this amazing historical site—a library, can you believe?"

"I didn't know there were open-air libraries," said Rony, shooting a smirk at the bushy-haired girl. "Did you get that tan there?"

Hermione's cheeks tinged pink, but she did not back down. "No, but we also went to some beautiful beaches there, " she said. "Really, France is fascinating. You two should come with us next year; mom and dad would love to have you."

"Hmm," said Rony, still rummaging in the room to make space for the other girl's things.

As Hermione went on about the details of her trip, Harry sat down heavily on Rony's bed, reclining on the wall for comfort. A moment later, Hermione followed his example, slouching down next to him without stopping her lecture. Harry couldn't help but notice the heat of her leg and arm lazily brushing against his.

They were interrupted by the sounds of brisk, short whacks coming in succession from outside in the corridor and the sudden opening of the door. A small redhead scanned the room in quick breaths, then settled her eyes on Rony.

"Rony, Charlie wants to know if you want to play Quidditch with the boys," Ginny breathed out.

Rony raised an eyebrow. "Just me?"

"No," said Ginny quickly, "Hermione and...

"... y-you too, Harry," she said, looking anywhere but at Harry.

Then she hurried out of the room faster than Peeves running away from the Baron.

There was a moment of silence.

"What was that about?" said Hermione.

Rony frowned and shot Harry an accusatory glare. "Does she still have that stupid crush on you?"

"I don't know," replied Harry. "And why are you speaking as if it's my fault?!"

Rony humpf'd and looked away.

0000000

It was still dark when, the next day, the six teenagers found themselves traveling down the muddy, narrow lane that crossed the village of Ottery St. Catchpole. They walked in silence, following Mr. Weasley's lead: Harry right after Fred and George, the twins still grumpy about their mother confiscating their Ton-Tongue Toffees, doing his best to stay warm in the chilly morning breeze, and Rony abreast, rubbing shoulders with him to ward off the cold.

Hermione came right behind them, together with Ginny. The younger redhead girl had regained some measure of composure around him after they spent the afternoon together trying to kill each other with Bludgers. Harry was thankful for it; he didn't know if he could stomach a return to her years of frightened silence and blushing embarrassment whenever he was close. She was, in fact, quite pretty, and he enjoyed talking to her.

"Ah," exclaimed George as if he had just remembered something. He smirked as he turned his neck to look over his shoulder at Harry. "Hey, Harry, did anyone tell who we're going to the World Cup with?"

Harry shook his head. "No."

"Are we going to have company?" asked Hermione.

"Oh yeah," said Fred, the same teasing smirking on his face. "You bet we are. And what company, don't you say, brother?"

"Fine company indeed, brother," said George.

There were a few seconds of silence as Fred and George seemed to wait for someone to get it out for them. When no one said anything, they shared a knowing look.

"Well, who is it?" said Harry impatiently.

"Why, Harry," said Fred. "None other than your old friend Diggory."

Oh. Oh.

Harry sneaked a glance at Rony from the corner of his eyes. The girl stared pointedly ahead, as if refusing to even acknowledge the conversation going on.

If there was one person Rony disliked more than the Ravenclaw Seeker, it was the Hufflepuff Seeker. One time during their third year, during a match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff, Harry fell off his broom, almost digging his own grave, and later spent many hours unconscious in the medical wing. That, of course, led to the Hufflepuffs' own Seeker, the sixth-year Ciddi Diggory, catching the Snitch and securing the victory for her house. Afterwards, Rony had unreasonably placed both the reasons for Harry's injury and Gryffindor's defeat on the older girl and had never quite forgiven her.

"Really? I didn't know she lived around here," said Harry.

"The Diggories live just up north of the village," said Fred.

George turned to walk backwards while facing Harry. "So, what you say, Harry? Good time for some inter-house socializing?" he said while drawing a curvaceous shape with his hands over his body.

"You are disgusting," said Ginny with a sneer. "By the way, I doubt she'd give you the time of her day, even if she was so inclined."

"What do you mean 'so inclined'? Of course she'd be inclined," replied Fred.

Rony snorted. "She means 'not interested'," she said, "as in 'she doesn't want what you have to offer'."

Fred furrowed his brow even further. "What are you trying to imply?"

His sister shot him a wicked smile. "Word on the corridors is that she plays for the other team."

"Kids," said Mr. Weasley in a warning tone, looking at them.

"Just what I heard, dad," said Rony.

"That is not the issue. I don't want to hear this kind of talk near Amos Diggory; do you understand me?"

"Okay. Sorry, dad."

Mr. Weasley turned back to the road, and Fred's head snapped back over his shoulder.

"You're full of dragon dung," he said.

Rony shrugged.

The conversation died down then, though for no small reason due to the uphill battle they had begun to fight. Stoatshead Hill was supposedly the last stretch before their destination, where they would find the cryptic Portkey.

Reaching the top of the hill between gasps for air and groans of discomfort, they put themselves in position to look for whatever small object Mr. Weasley would use to take them to the Quidditch World Cup. After a few minutes of fumbling in the bright blue light of the morning, a voice called out to them:

"Over here, Arthur! We've got it!"

Two figures walked up to them, tall against the slow dawning on the horizon.

"Amos!" shouted Mr. Weasley back, strolling over to shake the hand of a ruddy-faced man holding an old-looking boot.

"You remember Amos Diggory, everyone? He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures," Mr. Weasley explained, before giving them a warning look. "I believe you already know his daughter, Ciddi."

"Hi, guys," said a tall, beautiful brunette.

They replied with various degrees of enthusiasm. The boys energetically and congenially; the girls curtly and politely; and Rony more or less grunted.

As the adults began trading their usual niceties, Harry took a moment to... inspect the new arrival.

Ciddi Diggory was not regarded as the most beautiful girl at Hogwarts for nothing. Her generous curves were visible even while wearing a thick wool jumper and baggy sweater pants; her full breasts were mountains that disrupted the perfect flatness of her front of her body; her long brown hair was tied up in a loose ponytail that seemed effortless and elegant in equal measures; and although her face had a strong quality to it, it still managed to look feminine, and her dark brown, expressive eyes stared back at him as if stalking him.

Wait a moment.

Harry's own eyes widened when he understood she caught him leering at her, and he felt the heat coming to his face. The right edge of her lips turned up, and she winked at him.

"Harry? Harry Potter?" He was brought back to the moment by the loud exclamation of Amos Diggory. He looked around nervously, realizing that all eyes were on him. Ciddi sported a full, teasing smile then.

"Y-Yes, sir," was his knee-jerk response.

Mr. Diggory paused for a few awkward seconds, staring openly at his scar, before speaking again.

"Ciddi's talked about you, of course," he said. "Told us all about playing against you last year... I said to her, I said - Ciddi, that'll be something to tell your sons, that will... You beat Harry Potter!"

That irked Harry, but for politeness' sake, he didn't say anything. Rony was glaring at the man by then.

Ciddi gave a small laugh. "Harry fell off his broom, dad, I told you," she said. "It was an accident, wasn't it, Harry?"

"Dementors on the grounds," Rony replied for him.

"That's terrible, of course, terrible," said Mr Diggory. "But a fall's a fall - you can't be falling out of your broom if you aim to be the best, can you? Say, Ciddi, you told me you made sure Harry was okay after the match? Visited the infirmary?"

"I did, dad. It was an ugly fall."

"Say, why not go the extra mile and help him with some flying lessons? Couldn't hurt, I reckon," said Mr. Diggory genially.

It was such a rude statement that Harry did not know if the man had really just insulted him or if he had actually proposed it in good-nature. He expected Ceddi to instantly correct her father and apologize, but he was struck again as she turned to him with that teasing smile.

"Might be fun. What do you say, Harry?"

Mr. Diggory was delighted.

Suddenly all the eyes were on him again, waiting for his answer. Mr. Weasley looked slightly apologetic and amused at the same time, Fred and George looked jealous, and the girls' faces were as if carved out of stone.

"Thanks, Ciddi, Mr. Diggory, but we're both the Seekers for our houses—I don't think the teams would be too happy," he said at last.

"Yes, yes, the old house rivalry—that could definitely be a problem," admitted Mr. Diggory."Well, that's a shame, really."

"Must be nearly time," said Mr. Weasley quickly, pulling out his watch again. "Do you know whether we're waiting for anyone else, Amos?"

Harry was relieved when the attention moved to the portkey. Yes, apart from the humiliating implications, he would not have minded 'flying lessons' with Ciddi at all. Even then, he could imagine her athletic and curvaceous body against his as she 'taught' him how to 'properly mount' the broom, and, to be honest, it was not a bad fantasy. I'm a hot-blooded male, for Merlin's sake. But he knew it would ultimately be more trouble than it was worth.

00000000000

Little did Harry know that meeting Ceddi was only the beginning of a very trying day.

After a heart-stopping portkey trip, a run with the Muggle caretaker of the campsite where the World Cup would be taking place, and helping Mr. Weasley set up their tent, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny were sent away to gather water for Mr. Weasley's muggle undertakings around the fire. With the girls volunteering to help him with the task, Rony was left to laze about in their tent and catch up on a few more hours of sleep.

It was not a quick or relaxed trip in any way. As they traveled through the many-shaped tents, Harry seemed to inexplicably attract the attention of a lot of people. Sometimes the group could not walk ten feet before a witch would stop them to ask one question or another, or simply to ask Harry's name as if they already knew who he was. Most of the time, that would lead to their husbands and friends coming out of their tents to meet the famous Boy-Who-Lived, and they would all stand around talking about his grand feat of heroism defeating He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or how everyone was so honored to meet him. At one point, Ginny and Hermione began to actively try to drive them off with rude remarks, which might not have been uncharacteristic for Rony but wasn't something he knew the two girls to do.

Things did not get better, but they certainly got stranger when they met Ginny's longtime friend Luna Lovegood sitting outside of a picturesque, colorful two-store tent. Among old men wearing nightgowns and witches who might have been fashionable two hundred years prior, the petite blonde girl was not the weirdest dressed person on the camp, but with her Butterbeer caps necklace, Dirigible Plum earrings, and glasses that looked quite literally cut from bottle bottoms, she was trying hard to be.

She rose and walked up to them when she saw her friend walking by.

"Hullo, Ginny," said the girl, magnified eyes scanning them. She had a sort of gentle, distant voice, as if she were not quite sure they were there.

"Hello, Luna," Ginny replied.

"Did you just arrive?"

"Yes. About two hours ago, I think?" Ginny said.

"I see. Too bad you couldn't come with daddy and I earlier," Luna said. "We've been hunting heliopaths all week. Daddy reckons they wouldn't miss the chance to hit such a large gathering of wizards."

"Heliopaths?" said Hermione, scowling. Harry didn't know what the blonde was talking about either, but it at least made him feel better if his bookworm friend couldn't recall it from memory.

Ginny threw them a nervous glance.

"Ah, Luna, these are my friends; they came with us to watch the match today. Harry, Hermione, this is Luna Lovegood; she's a Ravenclaw third year," she said.

"Hermione Granger, nice to meet you," said Hermione, extending a hand.

"Nice to meet you, Hermione."

Harry also offered the girl his hand. "Hi, I'm-"

"Harry Potter, I know," Luna said. She took off the glasses then, as if to inspect him better. Without the enlarging lenses, her eyes were a baby blue and still quite big, which did nothing to diminish the dreamy look about her. "Ginny and I used to talk about you until we fell asleep when we were kids."

Ginny's eyes went as big as saucers, and her face was as red as her hair.

"Luna!" she breathed. Besides, Hermione did her best to stifle a laugh.

Luna paid no attention to her, her eyes never quite leaving Harry's. "Are you here to stop the Rotfang Conspiracy?"

Harry's eyes shifted quickly to Hermione and Ginny, then back again. "Hmm, no?"

Luna's large eyes finally shifted away from him to look at her redheaded friend. "So he's really not like we thought, huh?" she said, sounding just a little bit disappointed. "I had hoped."

Ginny gave an awkward, short laugh.

"Luna, that's just a story," she said in a low voice.

Luna ignored her again and turned to him.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Harry," she said, then took the hand he hadn't noticed was still extended.

"Err, you too... Luna," he said.

There was a long moment where no one spoke and just sort of stood around in front of the tent. Luna did not take her eyes off him. It was Ginny who finally broke the silence.

"So, hmmm, Luna, great to see you; I'm thinking we'll be leaving now; we need water for Dad and all that," she explained."See you after the match?"

"Sure, Ginny, it was nice to see you."

After everyone said goodbye to the girl, they all moved away, led by a still-beet-red Ginny. Harry couldn't quite shake the feeling of eyes on his back until they turned a corner.

The next Hogwarts student they came across was also a Ravenclaw, and, for Harry at least, it was a much more pleasing encounter.

Cho Chang was the perfect girl. Long, sleek hair, as black as the raven's wing, framed her Asian features, then went on to fall over her shoulders and down her back. Her thin, narrow face accentuated her small, pink lips and freckled nose, giving the girl a sort of otherworldly finesse. Below her pale neck, her womanly attributes did not leave anything to be desired either. How many times did Harry get distracted during a match while watching the Quidditch uniform press against those curves and those breasts as she rode her broom against the wind? How many times has he wished he could be on the Ravenclaw team for one day, just to be allowed to share the locker-room with her and maybe, just maybe, take a peek at the skin beneath all that blue and bronze? The third year was a time full of fantasies for Harry, and the Seeker of Ravenclaw had been the star of more than a couple of them.

But it was not only that. In the few—too few—times they've spoken in the past, she showed herself to be a funny, kind, outspoken, and attentive girl. She hadn't been star struck the first time she met him, and she hadn't treated him any differently since. She liked Quidditch, and she liked that he liked Quidditch. And when she walked, when she put those legs one after the other, when her body swayed gently...

"Hi, Harry," said Cho Chang, stopping right before him and smiling sweetly.

Harry blinked, dragging himself back to the real world.

"Hi, Cho," he replied, a tad too quickly.

The Asian greeted the other two girls, then eyeing Ginny she said in an angelic tone, "You came with the Weasleys? Where's the other redhead, the tall one?"

"Sis's back in our tent," said Ginny without a hint of humor. "Why?"

"Nothing, I was just surprised to see Harry alone; they're always together."

"Harry's not alone," said Hermione.

"I know," replied Cho, scowling slightly. She turned fully toward Harry. "Sorry, Harry. Are you excited for the match?"

"Yeah," he said. "It'll be my first official Quidditch match too, so... yeah."

"Really? The World Cup finale is your first?! You're in for a treat then," said the girl enthusiastically. "I've gone to a few matches with my family over the years, and they're fantastic - nothing like what we have at school, you'll see."

"Are you here with them?"

"Yes, been for almost a week now," Cho said. "It was insane getting tickets too—such long queues; we didn't get very good seats. You?"

"Just arrived today," said Harry. "Mr Weasley got pretty good seats, actually, in the Minister's booth."

"Wow, that's impressive," Cho said, then her lips curled slightly downward. "That means we won't be seeing each other down in the stands?"

He laughed ruefully."I guess we won't..."

"Hey, but then you'll see Viktor Krum much more closely, right?" Cho said, returning to being cheerful. "The best Seeker in the world? I know I'd like to learn something from him."

"Yeah, they say he's really good," said Harry. "Rony's a fan; she talks a lot about him."

Cho arched a delicate eyebrow at that. "Does she?"

"Yes, must have told me a dozen times about his career," said Harry.

Cho laughed softly, hiding her mouth behind slender fingers. "Oh, Harry, you're so innocent."

Harry laughed too, though without really knowing why. "What does that mean?"

She touched him lightly on the arm. "Nothing."

"Harry, I think we should be going; Mr. Weasley is still waiting for us," said Hermione.

Harry felt a pang of annoyance but was forced to agree with his friend; it had been a long time. Would they let me stay if I told them to go without me? Unlikely.

"Okay. So, Cho, see you at school?" he said to the Asian.

"Sure, Harry," she said. "And you better pick up those Krum moves; I've been looking for a rematch for a long time."

"I'll try." He smiled.

Hermione and Ginny did not allow any more stops after that. Forcing their way through the maze of tents and shooting half-hearted apologies, they finally managed to collect what they went there for. Mr. Weasley ended up not needing the water at all since by the time they were back, Percy and the other boys had arrived and convinced their father to use magic. Ginny complained about wasting time, and even Hermione didn't look all too pleased, but Harry couldn't bring himself to be disappointed. After all, for him, the trip hadn't been a waste at all.

But that ray of sunlight on a stormy morning.

The afternoon passed as peacefully as could be expected just before a very big occasion, with an ever-increasing sense of excitement and anticipation. Parties began popping up everywhere around the moor, with salesmen running out trying to sell their charmed goods and ministry officials chasing the open displays of magic like cats in a rat's nest. When night fell, they were finally allowed to exit the forest on the lamp-lit trail, Harry and a thousand others buzzing like ants as they walked to the massive stadium.

The minister's box was the highest one. Situated between the two golden goal posts and overlooking the quickly filling crowd below, it possibly had the very best view anyone could afford for the match. Rony and Hermione sat on either side of him, and for a while, before the remaining chairs were taken, they entertained themselves with a female house-elf by the name of Winky, who had been saving a seat for her master. After that, Minister Fudge stole Harry away for himself, taking him around the chairs, introducing him to various dignitaries and people of importance.

"I'm no great shakes at languages; I need Barty Crouch for this sort of thing," he was saying after the Bulgarian minister made a fool of himself by pointing to Harry's scar. "Ah, I see his house-elf's saving him a seat... Good job too, these Bulgarian blighters have been trying to cadge all the best places... ah, and here's Lucius!"

All heads turned to the entrance of the booth, where, true enough, a tall man with long platinum blonde hair emerged from the stairs. Holding his trademark cane and wearing what looked like the most expensive set of robes Harry had ever seen, Lucius Malfoy was the perfect picture of an aristocrat.

Fudge almost hauled Harry along with him to greet the pureblood.

"Ah, Fudge," said Mr. Malfoy, shaking the Minister's hand. "How are you?"

"Perfectly fine, Lucius, thank you. And you? I don't think you've met young Harry Potter?" Fudge spoke in a single reminded Harry of a kid showing off a new toy.

"Mr Potter and I have... acquainted before. I trust he is... safe?" said Mr Malfoy.

"Perfectly, sir. Never been better actually," said Harry, staring into the man's blue eyes with defiance.

Mr. Malfoy's smile was thin. "Let's hope you stay that way."

Fudge, oblivious to the tension between the two wizards, maintained his cheerful smile. He moved a little out of the way for the approaching Bulgarian Minister. "And allow me to introduce you to Mr Oblansk - Obalonsk - Mr - well, he's the Bulgarian Minister of Magic..." Fudge drawled on, and Lucius Malfoy shot Harry a last, contemptuous look before walking closer to socialize with the Bulgarian. Harry sneered back, turning his head away just in time to catch the next person coming up the stairs.

Here, Harry must correct an earlier statement of his: neither the Ravenclaw nor the Hufflepuff Seekers were the people Rony hated the most. That title belonged to the Slytherin Seeker.

She was a small thing, really. More than a head shorter than Harry; even Ginny was taller than her. She had chosen to wear her sleek, white-blonde hair in a tight bun on the back of her head, in opposition to the usual hair band she wore at school. Cold, grey eyes glared at him over a small, slightly turned-up nose, and a pitch-black pelt robe hid what he knew to be a flat chest and sticks for legs.

"Potter," said Diana Malfoy, his longtime enemy. "Why did I have the feeling I would meet you here?"

"Because you're an annoying midget that keeps following me around?" he replied, looking down at her.

"You ineptitude for humor is only trumped by your talent for showing up at places you're not desired," Malfoy said drily. She shook her head, looking around the box. "How did you get here anyway?"

"I can't see how that's any of your business."

Malfoy smirked. "Just curious, Potter. Can't imagine your parents bringing you to such a lively place."

Harry could feel the blood rushing to his head and grit his teeth, glaring at her. Seeing how he had nothing to retort, Diana's smirk grew. There was movement behind Harry, and a voice called.

"Harry, why are you standing around there for?"

It was Rony who walked up to them. She paused next to him—the redhead about his height—before turning her gaze to blonde Slytherin. She stared for a couple seconds before doing what she always did whenever Malfoy was in her presence: she crossed her arms just below her chest, pushing up and accentuating her already plenty sizeable breasts.

"Funny. I thought dad said they weren't allowing children in the higher stands," she said, feigning surprise.

Malfoy's disgust-filled eyes were focused on Rony's chest.

After a moment, she turned to Harry.

"I see you brought your blood-traitor cow with you," she said. "Did no one teach you to leave such animals at the ranch?"

Rony opened her mouth to reply to Malfoy, but then another voice cut in from behind the blonde.

"Diana, would you move out of the way? You're blocking the entrance." The short girl walked aside, making way for the owner of the voice.

Harry reasoned that the person who came up the stairs could only be Diana's mother. Tall, slim, and blonde, the woman exuded elegance with her straight posture and held-high head. And beautiful too; with high cheekbones, glossy pink lips, and striking blue eyes, she looked straight out of one of Rony's fashion magazines.

The older woman looked at them before addressing her daughter.

"Friends from school? You didn't say we would be meeting them here," said the woman. She extended her back hand to Harry in a way that made it clear he was supposed to kiss it. "Narcissa Malfoy."

Harry found himself on the spot once again. Diana glared, while Rony watched him to see what he would do. Time stood still. Should he kiss her hand? She didn't seem to be doing it out of malice or to humiliate him. But it would certainly be considered an offense on his part if he declined the custom. But did he even want to be polite to Malfoy's mother in the first place?

Deciding to give her the benefit of the doubt, he took her hand and, inclining ever so slightly, brushed his lips against her gloved knuckles.

"Harry Potter, ma'am."

Her eyes came alive, with light eyebrows shooting up into her forehead. She glanced briefly at her daughter.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr Potter. You are certainly a famous person," she said, withdrawing her hand. "I trust Diana is not being too difficult of a friend."

He gave her a strained smile. "Not at all, ma'am."

"That is a relief to hear," Mrs. Malfoy said, then her eyes traveled beyond the teenagers. She touched Diana's shoulder. "But I'm afraid you must excuse us now, Lucius is beckoning for us to meet the minister. I hope you enjoy the match."

Nodding to him once—and completely ignoring Rony—Mrs. Malfoy walked past them, her daughter in tow. Diana glared at them one last time and followed.

They returned to their seats just as Ludo Bagman welcomed the audience, and the big blackboard on the opposite side of the stadium changed its advertising to the score of the match (currently at 0 vs 0). As the people down below exploded in cheers and waves of flags, and the teams' mascots prepared to enter the field, Rony leaned towards him in her seat.

"I can't believe you kissed her hand!" she said irritably, her voice loud, trying to overcome the noise of the audience.

"What was I supposed to do?!" he said. "I was just being polite."

"That was Malfoy's mother, Harry. She's probably worse than her daughter."

But then the veelas came into view, and all the thoughts of Narcissa or Diana Malfoy left his mind.

000000000

Harry was currently running as fast as his legs would allow. The weight on his arms made his chest hurt with every step.

The game had ended with Ireland's victory, even if the Bulgarian Seeker Viktor Krum had caught the Snitch, and for a while most of the camp had been caught up in the post-match festivities. Harry and the rest had relived the best moments late into the night and fell asleep only when their eyelids could barely afford to stay open anymore. But, true to form, the day was not about to end on such a high note.

He had woken up to nothing less than his tent going up in flames. Above him, Bill Weasley moved his mouth in silent screams as he shook Harry with all the ardor of a hysterical man. It took a moment for his consciousness to fully return, and once it did, all he heard were the cries and explosions outside. Bill dragged him into a sitting position, slapping Harry's face until the boy could make out his words. With blood running down his forehead and a burn on his left cheek, Bill told him the camp was being attacked by unknown wizards and that Mr. Weasley, Charlie, and Percy had left to help the ministry. Harry and Bill were up to gather the girls and find a safe place to hide until reinforcements arrived.

Yet, as soon as they had left the tent, a spell spiraled in their direction, blowing up the very spot next to them. Harry was hauled to the side, rolling many times on the ground until he came to rest on his face, his vision once again slipping into darkness. He had come to himself sometime later, to the same scene of the moor being consumed by fire. Destroyed tents, furniture, and personal belongings littered the charred floor, and bodies lay sprawled all over the place; the air smelled of blood, ashes, and something akin to burned hair. Clumsily, Harry had searched for any sight of Bill, but without success. The girl's tent had also been destroyed, but luckily none of them—or their bodies—could be found.

He hadn't given up, and after searching through the debris, he discovered Ginny sitting on the ground against what remained of someone's trunk. The girl had been unconscious, but, as if by miracle, she only had a broken leg. He had taken the girl in his arms and proceeded on a laborious sprint for the forest in the distance.

The hellish scenario continued through the moor, with more and more destruction as he advanced. Harry had spotted wizards in full black cloaks and skull masks wandering about, destroying what was left standing. Understanding they had to be the ones responsible, he had hidden with Ginny until they were out of sight and he could proceed, all the while wondering how the Ministry had let something like that happen.

And that led to the present, where Harry carried the smaller redhead, finally closing in on the tall outline of the trees, where they could find safety.

"You should have apparated; running won't do you any good," said a voice to his left, stopping Harry on his feet.

It belonged to a woman leaning against a tree, donning the same black vest he saw on the wizards earlier, except she used no hood or mask, and her face was displayed in the open. A young face stared back at Harry, perhaps only a few years older. Her wavy, auburn hair cascaded down her back, and the red symbol of a bird in flight was tattooed on her forehead.

"Oh, what a coincidence," she said, an amused smirk coming to her graceful features. "You're one of the chosen."

"You're - you're like D.D.," he said breathlessly. The implications of someone like her being there at that exact moment flashed in his head almost instantly.

"You know, you shouldn't be declaring your allegiance so openly," said the young woman, "or so early. The game is just beginning, after all."

Harry felt the hairs on his neck stand, and a cold chill go up his spine.

"W-What are you talking? Who are you? What's happening? Did you people do this?"

The woman looked away, her face completely relaxed.

"Your Geass is still weak; I should have you dealt with right now," she said, then faced him again, shadows dancing over her eyes. "But I like your power. It's certainly... interesting. I wonder what kind of life you led to end up with that. It should be fun to see how far you can go with it."

Harry fumbled for his wand while trying to balance Ginny's weight, but couldn't find it. He felt anger stir inside him.

"Damn it, tell me something useful!"

She sneered at him. "I'll tell you to get out of here and learn to use your Geass if you plan to stay alive. And fast too."

As if to prove her point, another explosion thundered somewhere behind Harry. Still, he debated confronting the woman and demanding answers, but a grunt from Ginny and the absence of his wand quickly made him doubt the wisdom of that decision. Throwing her one last irritated look, he broke for the trees.

Dodging twigs and stepping around grasping roots, his speed was greatly impaired inside the forest. The darkness was another factor to consider; the lamp-path had been extinguished, and the light from the burning World Cup only traveled so far. Soon, the only illumination among the leaves were the wands of the black-clad figures wandering the woods, most likely looking for anyone crazy enough to not have apparated away as soon as the attack began.

And that was another problem, as Harry had to sneak around the points of light, all the while his muscles burned from carrying Ginny for so long. At one point, he accepted he could not go on, not without knowing where he was going or if the forest had an exit anywhere in the next ten miles. He set Ginny down in the spot between twin trees that managed to hide them well enough from anyone coming from most sides.

They spend a few minutes like that, with Ginny resting against the tree trunk and Harry couching besides her, keeping an eye out for the wand lights. Harry wondered where the others were and if they'd made it out in time, hoping against hope that they weren't among the... corpses he saw among the him, Ginny groaned, opening her eyes groggily, a pained expression on her face.

"H-Harry?" she said weakly.

"Ssh, Ginny, it's me," he said in a low voice. "We've got to stay quiet."

She groaned again. "Where... are we...?"

Harry closed in on the girl. "Ginny, what happened?" he murmured.

"I can't... I don't remember," she replied, some strength coming back to her voice.

Harry nodded. "Okay, okay, Ginny listen to me; we're in the forest right now; the people who attacked the World Cup are really close by," he said, "and they're looking for survivors."

She stared into his eyes with glistering brown orbs. "Who did this?"

Harry gulped. I can't tell her there's someone else with the Geass out there—Merlin, she doesn't even know it exists.

"I don't know, Ginny," he said softly.

"What are we going to do?"

Harry's eyes went to the woods again. Slowly, the wand-lights were coming into their direction, and the sound of steps grew louder.

"We're gonna hide until the Ministry arrives," he told her. "If I had my wand, I'd try something, but I lost it—yours is gone too; I checked."

Ginny shifted her head to the side and seemed to catch on to the approaching lights. When she looked back at him, the tears had begun to run down her cheeks.

"Harry, I - I have to tell you something," she said, her voice choking on her words.

"Ginny, we're going to be okay; someone's going to find us," he said, feeling the corner of his eyes begin to wet.

"Please."

Slowly, she raised a hand to cup his cheek. Beyond their tree, footsteps grew louder. Harry nodded.

"I-I've liked you since we first met," she said, her eyes twinkling in the light of their enemies' wands. "No, even before that. I think - I think I might love with you."

"Ginny, I -"

The footsteps were almost upon them now, and the light cast a dark shadow over their hiding place.

"I just wanted to tell you that before..." she said, laughing weakly. "I thought I'd never have the courage. Do - do you think you could like me like that?"

Harry watched her face attentively. She was a very pretty girl. Even with soft makeup marred by tears, which her face stained with dirt and ashes, and dozens of small cuts across her lips. Those things did not diminish her beauty in his eyes. And her eyes, which stared back at him so full of adoration, made it hard to look away.

He smiled against the flat of her hand, then took it in his own. Unminding of the people who were sure to be just above them now, he leaned in, bringing their faces together.

His lips touched hers, to taste the wetness and salt of her tears. He heard the sharp intake of breath when she realized what he did, but instantly she relaxed and leaned into the kiss. They stayed like that for a long moment, enjoying the feel of each other's skin and breaths, waiting for the inevitable moment when the wizards found them.

At long last, Harry pulled back. Ginny's eyes were still closed, as she seemed to bask in the moment, hoping to prolong it into eternity, and her face was alight with a green hue that seemed to shine on her skin. No, not only Ginny. Glancing around, it seemed the whole forest had been painted in neon green. Standing just in front of his tree, a hooded wizard in black stared upwards at the sky. Harry followed his example.

There, shining among the stars like a macabre constellation, was a colossal skull with a snake growing out of its mouth in the way of a tongue. For minutes, Harry could not tear his eyes away, his gaze transfixed on the strange image. It felt... almost familiar to him. Only the sounds of dozens of cracks echoing in the forest brought his attention down to the ground. The wizard had disappeared (or disapparated), and so had the other points of wand-light among the tree trunks.

000000000

After that, it did not take long for Ministry officials to pop into existence around the forest and camp. They did not take long to find Harry and Ginny and, setting a portkey for them, took the two teens away to a gathering of people way off the World Cup moors.

As soon as they landed, wizards in white took Ginny away to treat her leg. The man who brought them slapped his back in a reassuring way, told Harry to look for someone he knew, and marched away into the crowd. All around him, more and more people were being brought in by portkey, some unscathed like him, others severely hurt or barely alive.

Harry stumbled to his feet, apologizing as he bumped into someone, and tried to gather his bearings. The hill he stood on was swarming with wizards and witches of all ages, speaking in hushed tones, crying on their families' shoulders, or simply standing around with empty or lost expressions on their faces. The crowd reflected his own apprehensive feelings since Bill had woken him hours earlier.

Staring ahead beyond the crowd, he saw the outline of the World Cup camp in the distance, the fire still burning brightly, and smoke spiraling into the sky. Above the forest, the skull shone a sick green, like a sign to warn you of death and danger.

Harry averted his eyes, gulping down the rising bile with effort. Just a few hours before, they had been watching Viktor Krum catch the Snitch.

He walked among the people, seemingly lost, scanning the tear-stained faces of the crowd. There must have been thousands there, all clutching each other, hugging their friends and loved ones. But where were Harry's friends? There, in that haystack of humans, or back in the Burrow by way of Apparition, or...?

Eventually, he found his way to the area where the injured were being treated. Hundreds of white mattresses were arranged over the grass, each with someone laying upon it; some had one or two white-clad wizards above them chanting a healing spell or another. Luckily for him, and for his heart, what he had been looking for was easy to spot.

Harry let out a breath he had been holding for a long time.

Six redheads circled a seventh one lying down on the ground. A bushy brown mane sat a few feet away, giving space for the family to check on their youngest. He walked closer, and she looked up at him.

"Harry!"

Six pairs of eyes turned to him as one. He had perhaps two short breaths before a body crashed onto him, almost taking him down. Her sobs filled his ears. Harry involved her in his arms, returning the tight hug as best he could. Through the tousled red strands, he saw the relieved smiles on the faces of Mr. Weasley and the others.

Rony stepped back, checking him out from head to toe. Tears fell from swollen, red eyes, clearing ash smeared cheeks. She smiled for a second, then scowled and punched him.

"Ouch!" Harry whined, massaging his arm. "What was that for?!"

"Where were you?!" Rony said, rubbing the back of her sleeves on her face to wipe away the wet streams.

"Sorry, I kinda just lost my way, I guess," he said. She punched him again. "Stop that!"

"I'll stop when you stop being stupid!"

Mr. Weasley walked up to them. He watched Harry with something akin to pride.

"Harry, are you alright?" He spoke with a heavy voice.

"I'm okay, Mr. Weasley, thank you."

"Harry, I'm sorry," he said, shaking his head in shame. "It all happened so fast—one moment we were getting ready for sleep, the next everything was going up in flames, I - I told Bill to take you kids to the emergency point the Ministry set and went to help them. I wanted to go back to look for you, but before I knew it, they had taken everyone here, and we couldn't leave -"

"They cast an Apparition Jinx here; no one goes in or out without a portkey," Rony added quickly.

"I'm so sorry, Harry."

Harry nodded. "It's okay, Mr. Weasley. I'm just glad we got out," he said, remembering the black-clad man walking closer to his hideout. He wasn't sure what would have happened had he found them.

Mr. Weasley put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it. He smiled tightly for a moment. The older man led them back to the family.

Hermione jumped to hug him as soon as he got close enough, also examining him to make sure he was whole.

"I'm okay, Hermione," he said, trying to push her hands away.

"Are you? You're not hurting anywhere?"

"Yeah, I'm good," said Harry. His gaze fell on the girl laying on the mattress, eyes closed and deeply asleep. "How's Ginny?"

Charlie was the one who answered, "The healers mended her leg bones and fixed the tissue. They gave her a Sleep Draught for the pain; she should wake up tomorrow."

"Harry, what happened?" said Hermione.

He told them what transpired after he woke outside the tent up until the Ministry picked them up in the forest, leaving out his encounter with the strange woman and the kiss he shared with Ginny.

"The attackers disapparated when they saw the Dark Mark you say?" said Mr Weasley.

"The what?" Harry said.

"The Dark Mark, Harry," Hermione said. "You-Know-Who's symbol. Rise and Fall of Dark Arts says he used it during the first war."

"He and his followers used to cast it whenever they killed someone," continued Mr. Weasley, staring up at the green skull on the horizon. "It was everyone worst nightmare... arriving home and finding that hoovering your house..."

"So Voldemort—sorry, You-Know-Who—is the one behind this?" said Harry.

"That's not a certainty, Harry," said Bill. "Why did they take so long to cast it? You said they left after that, right? Why? Besides, it's been a long time since they were active; why here, why now? Could simply be someone impersonating them, trying to brew terror."

The game is just beginning, Harry remembered the auburn-haired woman's words.

0000000

The day had dawned by the time the Ministry allowed them to return to the Burrow. A borderline hysterical Mrs. Weasley tackled them as soon as they set foot through the front door, checking and hugging them all in turn to make sure of their safety. Her heart all but broke when she saw her youngest daughter limping and leaning on her father to walk. When she learned of Harry's efforts to save Ginny, she burst into tears recalling the events of the night and hugged him so tightly he couldn't breathe.

The next couple of days seemed as if a dark cloud hung over them. The Ministry, and its employees by extension, received no rest from the press, which took to agonizing over the "World Cup Episode," as they took to calling it. Though the great majority of attendees managed to escape in time, the final number of dead and gravely injured was not small by any measure. Luckily, his and Ginny's wands were found among the destruction and returned to them. Mr. Weasley spent more time away in the Ministry than in the house. Charlie and Bill returned shortly to their jobs, and Percy did the same as his father, spending his days in Mr. Crouch's department. As a result, Harry, Rony, Hermione, the twins, and Mrs. Weasley were the only occupants of the house most of the time.

The trip to Diagon Alley came and went. The days passed. Harry ate Mrs. Weasley's amazing breakfast in the morning, played Quidditch in the afternoon, and talked with Rony and Hermione until late in the night. Ginny's attitude towards him was unchanged for the most part, and he almost forgot their kiss under the trees.

But she didn't.

Mrs. Weasley sat in the living room downstairs knitting socks on a particularly warm afternoon a few weeks before September, after Fred and George had left to visit their friend Lee Jordan, and Rony and Hermione had retreated to the girls' room for undisclosed reasons. Harry had just taken a bath and finished dressing when the soft click of the twin's bedroom door locking reached his ears. Harry, who had his back turned to it, spun on his heels at the sight of one Ginny Weasley leaning against the wooden frame, sheepish eyes locked on him.

Harry pushed his shirt all the way down to cover his abdomen before fully turning to the girl.

"Hey, Ginny," he said.

Her eyes took a second to travel up to his face. "Hi, Harry, I... I've wanted to talk to you," she said, the pink of her tongue flashing over her lips.

His eyes were on the door for a moment before going back to her. "Sure."

"It's about the..." Ginny said, "...the World Cup. You still haven't given me your answer."

"Ginny..." he began and looked away, unable to find the words.

What words did he want to use? He hadn't replied to Aunt Petunia's declaration of love. He hadn't loved her the way the Geass made her love him, and he knew he didn't love Ginny that way either. Oh, he knew the Geass was affecting her by now; he had no illusions to the contrary. The girl had always had a small crush on him, that had always been obvious, but it had actually begun to recede as the novelty of being around him wore off over the years. However, it had come back full throttle that summer, culminating in that moment in the forest and all the flushes and glances in the days after it. What else could it be but the work of the Geass? Yet, did he want to throw it away, especially now that it was his fault?

"It's 'no', isn't it?" she said with a rueful smile. "You don't have to lie."

"No, Ginny!" he said quickly, stepping forward. "It's not 'no', it's just... not yes."

"Not 'no' and not 'yes'?" She looked confused. Step by step, she closed the distance between them until no more than a foot separated them, and he could smell the coconut fragrance of her shampoo. "What is it then?"

"I'm - I'm not sur-" he began, as she stepped closer.

"Why don't we confirm it then?" She spoke, her breath brushing against his skin, her lips getting closer.

He didn't protest when she kissed him. He let the oh-so-soft feeling of her lips brushing against his envelop his mind. Their first kiss was a wet, solemn experience as Harry accepted her and gave a last gesture of kindness before his demise. Though not lacking for affection, this one was different, as Harry felt the familiar heat of arousal in his lower parts.

He felt her hands reach for his face, cupping both his cheeks, pulling him toward her, and he understood she wanted to be closer. He clenched her hips and pressed her body against his, savoring the softness of her small chest. Immediately, her arms encircled his neck, and she rose up to stand on her toes. She licked his lips, and Harry almost smiled at her boldness but opened his mouth to allow her entrance.

At once, Harry knew Ginny was a hungry girl. His previous lover had been experienced, and that showed in her expert exploration of his cavity. But where Aunt Petunia had been sensual expertise, Ginny was explosive eagerness. Once inside, her tongue darted all around, exploring, tasting, and rubbing against his own tongue.

They were forced to part for lack of air. Arms still around his neck, forehead glued to his, and taking deep breaths, she smiled at him like he was the sun itself.

"Ginny, that was great," he managed to push out, just as breathless.

Her smile became a satisfied grin, and she jumped on his lips again. Once more, their tongues fought, attacking each other in a deadly dance. Hungry. Impatient. Harry found his hands tired of being idle. They wanted to be free, to move around that body, which, despite their pleasant position, grasping at her slim waist, was bound to feel like silk in flesh. Tentatively, they traveled up, counting her little ribs.

His left hand was bold and went down again, just to sneak under the fabric and feel the heat of her body on his own skin. She shuddered at his touch as he traced her bones. His right was bolder. His fingers had reached the underside of the tougher fabric of her bra, so Harry took a second to make up his mind and cupped a tit in a single motion. He squeezed once. She moaned in his mouth, and that was enough to draw out his erection.

"Eek!" Ginny gasped, pulling away from him. She stared down at his bulging crotch.

"Sorry about that," he said, his tone completely unapologetic.

She stared at it for a couple seconds, her cheeks tinged with red. "I-It's okay."

"Do you want to touch it?"

Her eyes darted to his before going back down. "Can I?"

"Yes," he said, voice rough with lust, and waited for her to move. He would not take her hand to it; if she did it herself, it would mean they could go even further.

Her hand began to move, and little by little it closed the distance to his erection. Her fingers traced over it, the warmth of her skin radiating to his, becoming stronger as she-

"GINNY!"

They jumped away from each other in shock as Mrs. Weasley's yell from downstairs echoed through the house. Ginny looked back at him, her eyes darting to his now softening cock for a split second, and bit her lip.

"I... should go see what she wants," she said.

"Yeah," Harry said.

She nodded. "Okay."

"Okay."

With small steps, she walked to the door. She opened it but stopped at the archway. She turned to him, her eyes expectant.

"Talk to you later?" she asked.

He nodded. "I'd like that."

She smiled shyly and closed the door. Her quick steps down the stairs echoed back into the room.

Harry lay on one of the twins' beds, contemplating what had just happened. He had kissed Ginny again, his best friend's sister, and would have done more if Mrs. Weasley hadn't called her down. He stared at the hand that had touched her soft breast mound. He could almost feel it again on his palm. Merlin, but her body had felt so good in his hands. How long had it been since he last had sex? One week? Two? His balls were almost itching with need.

He sighed and threw his head onto the pillow.

00000

Even without Fred and George in the house, dinner in the Burrow was always a lively affair. Mrs. Weasley had prepared Harry's favorite again—the second time that week—and kept asking him to take more into his plate. Mr. Weasley had engaged Hermione in an enthusiastic conversation on the proper usage of rubber chickens, and Rony talked to him about her expectations for the coming Quidditch league. The only one to eat in complete silence was Ginny. Until the end of the meal, their eyes kept catching each other's every now and then and holding for a few seconds.

That night, Mrs. Weasley took Rony and Hermione back to their room earlier than usual, leaving Harry to sleep alone. Without constant chatter to distract him, his mind found its way back to the lithe body of the Weasleys' youngest. Her glossy pink lips, her straight red hair, the freckles that run down all the way inside her shirt, the budding mounds at her chest, the narrow waist, and even her smallish bubble bum. Merlin, but he wanted her. He wanted the first-year girl whom he had saved from the Chamber of Secrets and who had a crush on him for the longest time; he wanted her. He had to have her. Harry stroked himself to climax for the first time in possibly months.

On the next day, the previous night's orgasm and the dawn of the new day didn't do much to improve Harry's situation. They didn't sedate his need for the shorter redhead in the slightest. All through the day, he stole glances at her whenever she was in the vicinity, outright checking the girl out when other people appeared to be looking away. Ginny herself caught him a few times, though she would only smile slightly and continue about her business. It only drove him madder.

His time came somewhere in the afternoon. They were all hanging out in the living room, Harry and Rony sitting on the couch with a wizard chess board between them, Hermione on a chair under the window with Arithmancy For The Mind open on her lap, and Ginny making for a distracting sight, sitting on the opposing couch with her bare legs pushed against her chest while she played with one of her twin brothers' gadgets. At one moment, Mrs. Weasley walked into the room and addressed her youngest daughter.

"Ginny, please go get some apples for me on the apple-tree, a dozen should do for the pie," she said.

Harry expected the girl to protest, something not unusual for all the children when Mrs. Weasley told them to do something, but she immediately put her toy aside and rose up from her seat, making for the front door.

"Sure, mom," she said. Mrs. Weasley, Rony, and Hermione raised their eyebrows in synchrony.

Ginny stopped and looked around the room before leaving, her gaze lingering on Harry's for a second longer before she walked out. Mrs. Weasley looked lost for a moment as if it baffled her that her order had been obeyed so easily, perhaps wondering if there was a catch to it before returning to the kitchen. Rony shrugged and returned her attention to their game, and so did Hermione's to her book. But Harry's didn't. Harry knew that look. It appeared as like the ones Aunt Petunia gave him when she wanted him to accompany her somewhere other than for chores.

But how could he act on it? There was Rony right in front of him, and Hermione was sitting right by the door; what kind of excuse could he make for walking out without raising suspicions that he was following the little devil outside? Almost at once, the answer dawned on him, and he smiled to himself.

"Sorry, Rony, I need to go to the bathroom; can we hold up the game for a bit?" he said, faking a grunt.

"Oh, sure, take your time," she said, her cheeks reddening.

He raced up the stairs in quick steps but didn't make for the loo, instead barging into his room. He stayed just long enough to retrieve the Invisibility Cloak from his trunk and throw it over himself before sneaking down to the living room. Both girls were still there, sitting where they had been. Rony toyed with one of the pieces looking bored, and Hermione was absorbed in her book.

How do I open the front door now? Surely they would notice it opening by itself with no one walking in or out, and it wasn't a secret he had an Invisibility Cloak. They weren't stupid. Then how? He ruminated on a solution for about a minute, until his eyes fell on the fireplace.

Trying not to make a sound, he walked over to it and, making sure the girls' eyes were fixed somewhere else, grabbed some of the floo powder. The fire wasn't lit; would it still work? There was only one way to find out, so he decided to throw it inside.

At once, the fireplace roared with green flames that licked at the edge of Harry's cloak. The girls' heads snapped at it.

"Is your mother expecting someone?" Hermione said.

"Not that I know of," Rony said.

While their eyes were glued to the flames, waiting for someone to walk out of them, Harry took that moment to tiptoe to the door, opening it with utmost care. He almost thanked Merlin out loud when it didn't creak. He left it slightly open—easier for them to think Ginny left it like that later than risk the noise of closing it and drawing attention to the door—and ran into the backyard, where he knew the Weasleys had a couple different fruit trees.

With the basket by her feet, Ginny stood near the tree's trunk, arms stretched upwards, choosing the better apples to pick. Harry walked closer.

He took the cloak off with a swift motion.

"I was beginning to think you wouldn't come," said Ginny, turning to face him.

He did not reply. He took her in his arms and pushed her against the trunk.

Her back hit the wood with a muffled "thud," as Harry covered her body with his. He kissed her, and she kissed him back with a hunger that delighted him. It was almost like they hadn't done the same thing less than twenty-four hours before. Her fingers found their way to his hair, scratching his scalp in an attempt to deepen the kiss. Harry's hands, in turn, lost no time in exploring her body. He groped her breasts and caressed her naked thighs, enjoying the smooth skin.

His cock got the memo and soon stood in attention, pressing with impatience at her short jeans. She didn't pull away this time. Her hands traveled to his waist at a speed that astonished Harry, and she hesitated just a moment before letting her palm engulf the hardness over his pants. It was Harry's turn to moan.

Ginny broke the kiss.

"It's so... hard," she breathed, fumbling with his cock.

"Be gentle," he groaned. Her grip softened.

"Sorry."

Harry raised her chin and kissed her again. While she continued to massage his penis, his hands found their way beneath her shirt, rising and tickling as they went until her bra stopped their advance. He slipped the tips of his fingers beneath the padding and pressed his palm against the naked flesh of her teats. Her nipples were hard enough to signal her arousal if that wasn't obvious enough, and Harry kneaded them, rubbing the little buds between his thumbs.

"Yes!" she moaned on his lips.

He took his mouth away from hers, descending to her neck and planting small kisses on the freckled porcelain skin. She moaned again ("Harry!") and brought a hand up to press his head harder against her body. He let go of her chest and seized the girl by her legs, lifting her up and pressing her up against the tree to help with her weight. He pushed his crotch against her own, and she pulled his hair to kiss him hungrily again.

They stayed like that for several minutes, enjoying the feeling of each other's bodies. He fondled her breasts, pinched her stomach, tickled her ribcage, and clutched her arse as much as he could, but when he moved to slide a hand inside her shorts, she pulled apart, pushing his shoulders away.

"Wait, Harry," she said, gasping for air. "Not here, someone might come."

"What - Ginny?" Harry protested. "We can't stop now."

"We have to," she said, shaking in his grip until he put her down on her feet. She stepped away from him, running her hands over her clothes and hair, trying to smooth them. "Someone might come out of the house."

Harry was incredulous. Hot and bothered, he didn't put much stock in reason at the moment. He looked around at his feet and picked up the Invisibility Cloak from the ground.

"Here, let's just put this over us," he offered.

"Harry! Are you crazy?" she giggled.

Harry stared at her. "I'm serious."

"You aren't," she said, then took the cloak from his hands. "Give me this."

"What do you want it for?"

She folded it and stashed it inside the bucket with the apples. She picked it up and closed in for a smooch on his lips.

"Tonight, you'll see." She grinned and spun on her heels to skip away back to the Burrow.

Harry watched her go, his mouth hanging open.

"How am I supposed to get back in?!"

00000000

Luckily, it wasn't that hard to sneak back into the house. As soon as the girls left the living room, he sneaked inside, walking up the stairs in careful steps until he reached the twin's room. Later, Rony found him slouched over the bed, pretending to be asleep. He told her he had felt sleepy after returning from the bathroom earlier and just decided to take a nap. She just sat down, put his legs over her lap, and began to chat away with him. Not for the first time, Harry was thankful his friend was not one to fret over small things.

The night did not come fast enough for him that day. Thoughts of Ginny kept finding their way to the forefront of his mind more often than not, and more than once, Rony or Hermione kept asking why he kept glancing at the clock, and Ginny would just smirk at him from the other side of the room. That girl was turning out more wicked than he had realized.

Long after the house had retired for the night, he stared at the dark ceiling for hours. He wondered if perhaps he was being too expectant, if he wanted too much from the girl. After all, she was a year younger than him, and entering a boy's room when he was alone could only mean one thing, right? They had kissed properly only the day before. Yeah, she's not coming. It's good to demonstrate that the Geass wasn't as powerful as he had thought. He rolled onto his side and prepared to fall asleep.

The creak of a door turning on its hinges reached his ears. Harry opened his eyes and sat up on Fred's bed, putting on the glasses he had on the nightstand. His dark-adjusted eyes only saw the empty room and the open door. Then it closed by itself right before him.

The next moment, in what must have been a mirror of what the girl saw earlier, Ginny's body appeared out of thin air as the cloak slid off her form. Under the dim moonlight streaming through the windows, he noticed she was dressed in a short pink nightgown that didn't reach the middle of her thighs. She also had her wand, which she pointed at the door.

"Colloportus," she said, then walked closer to the bed. "Did you know we can do magic close to adults?"

"I didn't," Harry admitted.

"The trace can't tell who casts the magic; I overheard dad saying that once," she told him. She let the wand fall to the ground.

"That's... convenient," Harry said. "Why didn't you tell the others?"

She got on the bed, crawling on her knees until she sat on his waist. Her weight was delightful on his crotch. She rested her arms around his neck.

"Now why would I ever do that, Harry?" she said. "When they can so easily ruin the fun..." She kissed him then, their tongues dancing the dangerous dance she liked. She stopped when she felt the rising hardness under her buttocks. "You already are..."

Harry touched her knees gently, caressing the skin with the tips of his fingers. Slowly, he ran them along her thighs until he grasped the hem of her nightgown. He gradually raised the fabric, revealing its secrets inch by inch. She wasn't completely naked beneath it, as he had assumed; a small pair of cotton shorts, tight over her developing, widening hips, protected her female modesty. Her belly had just the tiniest amount of baby fat, giving him an irrational urge to pinch it. She raised her arm so he could keep on with his task, and her armpits might have been cut from a baby's bum, so smooth they looked. It made sense that she wore no bra to sleep; Rony didn't, and he guessed they might be too uncomfortable to allow a good night's rest. Her breasts were not what one would call big, and he reasoned she would never be in the league of her sister or her mother, but they were in no way less beautiful for it. They were the size of apples—firm and perky, with small nipples that were reddish-pink and erect with arousal. It made him smile; her freckles flowed down from her neck, sprinkling the paleness of her teats.

"Sorry they're not as big as sis'," she said, surprisingly shy about it.

"They're beautiful, Ginny," he said. "Can I?" he asked, bringing his mouth close.

She nodded, the red on her face clear even in the blue light of the moon. Gently, he took one of the nipples in his mouth, and she gasped. He rolled the hardened flesh on his tongue, sucking while at it, and Ginny pushed his head against her chest, desperate to have more of herself inside him. Harry's hands roamed her body, enjoying the feeling of it. It amazed him how different her skin felt from Aunt Petunia's. Ginny was, what, twenty years younger than her? It showed. While the redhead did not have the fullness of body or the scent of a woman his aunt had, her skin was much smoother, more delicate, and apparently completely devoid of hair below the neck.

He was brought back from his musings when Ginny pulled on his hair, taking his head away from her teat. When he looked at the pair, he liked how the reddened and moist flesh contrasted with the unattended twin. She caught his attention by pressing her butt on his crotch, and Harry looked up at her.

"Can I?" she asked, pressing down again to show what she wanted. He withdrew from her and let her shift her weight back onto his thighs.

Her gaze was fixed down there when he brought his hands to his pajamas. Deciding not to make a show of it, he grasped the elastic of the trousers and pushed it down in a single motion. His cock slapped against his stomach, free again for that sensation we only feel when we show ourselves to others. Ginny's eyes widened a bit at what Harry presumed was her first live sighting of a penis.

"It's... bigger than I thought," she said.

"Thanks," he replied. "You can touch it if you want."

Shyly, she approached it with her hand, hovering above it for just a heartbeat before she grasped at it. In the beginning, it was like she was fumbling with a new toy, running her finger up and down, getting the feel of it, not quite sure of what she should do or how to do it. Ginny was a quick study however, and soon she had both her hands on his mast, pumping it fervently, his pink cocked flashing in the movement of her watched her actions with a mixture of curiosity and lust, her teeth biting hard on her lower lip.

Harry kissed her this time to let her know he appreciated the effort before going in for the kill.

"It feels better if you put it in your mouth," he whispered.

Uncertainty flashed in her eyes, and she stopped her movements on his cock, the meat still in her hands. "Witch Weekly didn't teach how to do that," she said.

Harry pushed the red strands away from her face, tucking them behind her ear, and she leaned in on his touch. "You'll do fine." That seemed to encourage her, and slowly and deliberately, she lowered her head until her tiny nose hovered inches from his penis, her warm breath tickling the skin. He wondered if the smell of his sex excited her the same way hers and other women's did for him. At the very least, she didn't seem to hate it, as the little pink of her tongue came out and tasted the flavor of his cockhead with shy and quick licks that burned like fire. He groaned at the rough feeling and wanted to further boost her confidence in the act. Needing no more than that, her licks became longer and bolder, often going from the base to the very tip, wiping the pre-cum off the rough organ. She planted small kisses on his balls and played with them using her tongue, giggling as they bounced around. She was having a surprising amount of fun pleasuring his cock. "You have to suck, Ginny," he told her, then grabbed her hair, gathering the strands together to form a ponytail behind her head, clearing her face of all obstacles.

She took the head first into her mouth, applying suction and rolling her tongue around the shaft. Harry moaned and gave just the slightest of pushes down on her head. She took the hint, moving her lips along his length and rubbing them on the veins and skin of his boy-meat. Once again, his cock was in heaven, stuck in a hot, moist cave. Harry had to force himself not to pin her head down, as he had done so many times with his aunt. Her inexperience was on display once more when she came to a halt halfway down his length, unable to continue. She held the position, though, using the techniques she had picked up so far.

It was good, for then Harry was presented with an extremely enticing sight. Bent over his cock, Ginny was essentially on all fours, with her upper body pressing down and her hips thrusting upward. Her naked, freckled, creamy white body showcased her girly, pubescent curves, made clearer by the slightly widening hips at the end. Hips like these encased her cute and pretty bubble butt. Her pajama shorts were too small; the bottom fabric was stuck inside her ass crack, exposing her snow-colored cheeks. Unable to contain himself, Harry freed one hand from her locks, leaving the job of holding them up for the other, and inclined forward. He grasped one side, squeezing the flesh in his hand, feeling the impossible softness. He did the same to the other, but soon his fingers found their way between her legs, and he rubbed the place he knew her pussy would be, enjoying how wet it was.

Ginny moaned on his cock, her head moving up and down, her hands pumping on the length she couldn't take in her mouth, and her nails scratching his sack.

"Merlin, Ginny, you're a natural at sucking cock," he said, the lust speaking more than himself. She groaned, perhaps in agreement, and the vibrations almost pushed him over the edge. He let go of her ass and pussy, reaching for her chin and pulling her face away from his cock. Her brown eyes had a sort of glossy look about them, but she beamed when they met his green ones, happy to have made him happy. Merlin balls. And in a burst of perverted inspiration, he grasped his dick and slapped her right cheek gently with it, wetting her freckled vanilla skin with his misty pre-cum and her sticky saliva. The little bint closed her eyes and bit her lower lip in satisfaction. She's getting off on it. "Rise up, Ginny," he said. She pushed herself up with her arms, and Harry rewarded her with a deep kiss. Then he spun them on the bed.

He laid her down on her back and, sustaining his body on his knees between her legs, took a moment to appreciate the sight. Her breasts were small and pointy, with rock-hard nipples. Her shoulders and neck were as delicate as a child's. Red hair a blanket under her back. Eyes glued to the throbbing erection nestling between her thighs. Down at her crotch, her shorts were absolutely soaked—an enormous stain on the front that perfectly outlined her slit. Harry reached for the hem of the shorts, but Ginny's hand grabbed his own.

"W-Wait, Harry... I-I not sure I'm ready," she said, breathing faster.

Harry let her maintain her grip on him, letting her keep some sort of control to abate her fear. He inclined his body over hers, intentionally poking her pussy with his cockhead, and kissed her gently. He felt her relax after a moment, and her grip on his hands loosened.

"Ginny, do you trust me?" He pressed his brow against hers and whispered. She hesitated for a moment before nodding.

He pulled the fabric back slowly, his eyes never once leaving hers. Straightening his body, he held up the twin towers of ivory that were her legs as he brought up her knickers. He moved it past her feet and flung it over his shoulder. He spread her then, slowly and with care, until he felt the mattress resist under her flesh. Only at that moment did he allow his gaze to leave her brown orbs and roam down her body.

Her pussy was just a slit in her crotch—a tear between a mound of engorged flesh. There were no outstretched lips or a gash in the pink of her insides. It was a virgin pussy, unaffected by any other man. In many ways, it was an unwrapped gift—one that would never be taken away from him. The thought made him even harder, straining the veins on his dick and bringing about an almost painful tightening in his balls.

He wanted her, and he wanted her quickly.

He brought his cock close to her cunt, touching the snatch with the fat red mushroom. He slid it up and down a few times, coating his flesh in the girl-juice that leaked from inside her even then. Her breathing became more rapid, and the girl's fear returned. Harry locked eyes with her.

"It's gonna be okay, Ginny." He let his body lay atop her and kissed her again. She locked her arms around his neck while he grasped her thighs. His cock now pushed against her entrance, feeling the flesh split with resistance. He soldiered on and very slowly pushed the length of his penis inside her.

She was incredibly, impossibly tight. The pressure of her velvety walls was so intense that it caused him pain as he advanced through her channel one millimeter at a time. He grunted with her. She clutched his hips with her thighs, unconsciously trying to halt his movement but only managing to spur him further. He kept on kissing her and massaging her legs to distract her from the pain.

His cock brushed up against something about halfway through. That can't be her womb, right? It's too soon. The feeling was different too. Aunt Petunia's womb, which he had knocked on many times, had a hard feel to it, much like a wall inside her saying, "This is the limit." Ginny's blockage was somewhat elastic, like a membrane meant to be ripped. He broke their kiss, intending to ask her about it lest he actually hurt her. Her face was flushed, and her eyes were tightly shut as she took short, sharp breaths.

"Ginny, c-"

"Yes!" she said. "It's okay! Just push it!"

Knowing she was in pain, he didn't want to prolong it more than necessary. He pressed his face against her as he lowered his weight onto her, plating small kisses along her jawline and around her ear. The membrane gave away like a piece of fabric tearing, and Ginny suppressed a scream. Harry felt for her, but he followed what she said and pushed, until their fronts touched, belly on belly and chest on chest, and he felt the familiar hardness of her womb against his cockhead. He stayed like that for a minute, maybe two, to let her get used to the feeling.

"Ginny, I'm going to move now," he said, and without waiting for her answer, he drew his hips back. He thrust again. The second time went much smoother, and he was able to reach fill her again much faster. Then he repeated. And again. And again. By the time he got into a rhythm, she was panting, little moans coming from her mouth every time his balls slapped against the wetness beneath her cunt, and half-closed eyelids over cloudy eyes.

He grasped her hip bones and picked up the pace.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah, ah," moaned Ginny as Harry plunged into her, quickly approaching the speed he used to fuck Aunt Petunia with. Perhaps it was a little insensitive of him, but he couldn't help himself at the time, not with her pussy struggling so delightfully with his cock, putting that delicious tight resistance. "Ah ah ah ah ahahahahahaha." He slammed into her, the wet slapping of their genitals and her frantic moans echoing off the bedroom walls. He knew he was close when the pressure building up behind his cock threatened to burst.

"Ginny, I'm going to cum," he said, though he doubted she heard it, lost in a world of grunts and moans with eyes rolled to the back of her head. He was unconcerned about it and let it out inside her pussy. He thrust one last time, grinding their crotches together, while the semen flowed down her channel and into her womb. She kept her eyes closed and savored the moment, a low grunt lingering in her throat.

When he drew back, her members had gone limp, arms and legs falling to the bed in an exhausted fashion, and their hold on his body was gone. He rose to his knees again to peer at his handiwork. Their bodies were drenched in sweat; hers sparkled in the moonlight streaming through the windows, silver sparkles all over the pink-whiteness of her skin, giving her an ethereal appearance.

His penis was painted red with the blood of her virginity, and for a moment Harry panicked that he might have really hurt her with his forcefulness until he heard a giggle coming from the girl.

"It's okay, Harry. The first time is supposed to be like that for us girls," she said, a relaxed smile on her lips. "It didn't hurt that much."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded.

"Did you like it?"

"Oh, yes," she said, once again relaxing against the sheets. She touched the flesh on her stomach just below her belly button. "It's warm."

"Sorry to do it inside," he said.

"It's okay; Witch Weekly has a few spells for that," Ginny said. There were a few moments when Harry watched the rising and falling of her chest before he spoke.

"But you didn't cum."

Ginny frowned. "I'm... not sure."

But Harry thought if a girl came, she would be able to tell. Hell, he was able to tell when Aunt Petunia came on his cock. He found that he didn't like that Ginny hadn't, even if it was her first time. He took his penis in his hand and brushed it on her thigh to clean the blood from her skin. By the time he was done, his penis was already hardening. Ginny was looking inquisitively at him.

"Ginny, just relax, okay?" He said this while grasping both of her legs. "I want you to think only of my cock in your pussy, alright?"

She didn't reply but did loosen her muscles. Harry stretched her legs up and down against her until her ankles were almost parallel to her head. His hunch that she had an extremely flexible body was correct. Crotch all spread out for him, he took a moment to get a look at her little anus. Pink and closed, it looked like a hair wouldn't be able to go through. He licked his lips but decided to move on; it was a target for another time. He settled for lining up his dick with her still sopping cunt. "Harry, what are you- HA!" He interrupted her by plunging into her pussy with one quick thrust.

He did not wait or give her any time to get used to it before he began slamming his hips as hard as he could without trying to break the bed. Ginny contained a scream in her hand again, this time biting hard into the flesh to stop her voice from coming out. But Harry could hear it—the low, guttural grunt coming from her throat as he pistoned into her welcoming pussy. The harder he pushed, the harder it tried to keep him inside, the harder he pulled back, and the harder he pushed back in.

"Fuck, Ginny, your pussy is amazing," he grunted above her.

Her face was slick with sweat, red from embarrassment and the blood flowing to it, and her hair stuck to her forehead. Her eyes closed again, her teeth biting into her hand, and her breath came in short bursts. Harry found he liked the sight. He enjoyed seeing the girl undone by pleasure, by the act of his cock being shoved inside and out of her little cave. She took her fist out of her mouth and opened her eyes to look at him.

"H..." she tried to say as her body bounced on the mattress due to his weight settling on and off of her, "...ha..." she tried again, eyes misty, looking at him and not at him, "...har...harder...fuck me... harder..."

It was like something was unleashed within him. He bared his teeth and seized her head with his hands. Ginny had her mouth open and her tongue hanging out lewdly. Harry caught it, capturing her lips in a searing kiss and driving his own tongue deep inside. All the while, he fucked her like a man possessed, thrusting until his cock knocked on her womb and his balls slapped her buttocks loudly. It didn't take long for her lower body to tremble, indicating the onset of a female orgasm. He picked up the pace one last time, also feeling his time coming, and when her hips seemed to have gained a life of their own, he exploded inside her climaxing pussy.

He spent himself inside her again and fell down atop her body. Her legs unfolded, straightening back to their natural position below her waist. She was shuddering lightly under him, the remnants of her own orgasm still hitting her. Harry chuckled and rolled to the side, holding her so she could then lay over him. She was oddly silent at that moment, and he began to pat her head, hoping to calm her down.

Eventually, she stopped trembling, and he felt her arms going under his back to hug his body. She pressed her face against his chest.

"Ginny?" Harry said. She grunted meekly. "What are you doing?" She grunted again. "Are you... hiding?"

She lifted her head just enough so he could see her flushed face and embarrassed eyes.

"I came, didn't I?" she said. Harry nodded. "I looked ridiculous."

Harry couldn't help but laugh softly. Ginny scowled prettily at him.

"No, you didn't," he assured her with a kind smile. He reached down and planted a small kiss on her brow. "You looked beautiful, Gin."

Her face softened, and she hid it again on his chest, though this time Harry could feel the smile playing on her lips. They stayed like that for a few minutes, just enjoying each other's skin and warmth.

Merlin, it was good to have sex again. Rubbing one out had nothing on it. The sensation and the intimacy were aspects he could not find anywhere else. But what he really loved about it was the trust. It was something he had felt from Aunt Petunia. When they were together, he felt that she trusted him with all of her being, and he, in turn, could trust her. She was his at the time. She belonged to him. And now again with Ginny. When he asked her to relax her body, he knew he could have done whatever he wanted with her then. He could have had her cute little arsehole, and she would have allowed it. Such a thing was a drug to Harry, he realized, though he couldn't quite explain why.

A small hand on his genitals brought him back from his thoughts, digits playing with his wet, soft penis and sack.

"I thought penises would be scarier," she said, watching her own work down his loins, then looking back at him. Harry raised an eyebrow. "No! I mean, I thought I wouldn't like it as much, but... I really do. It's fun."

"I'm glad you're having fun with my cock. Please go on, don't mind me."

Ginny giggled. "Sorry, I know it's not a toy. Can you... get it hard again? I kinda wanna put it in my mouth."

"I think I can, but..." he said, looking outside. Moonlight was beginning to dim. "You should probably go back to your room. Someone might wake up in the middle of the night."

Ginny pouted but didn't argue. Nonetheless, she bent down to plant a kiss on his cockhead. That stiffened him a bit, but she let go and made to rise from the bed. She stumbled when she got to her feet, and Harry hurried to catch her.

"Wow, you okay, Gin?"

She smiled shyly. "Thanks... my legs are a bit week I think."

"Sorry. Does it hurt?"

"Just a bit. I'll think I'll be somewhat sore tomorrow," she said, balancing herself on her legs.

"I wish I could help you with that," said Harry.

"Nah, don't worry, I'll be alright."

She then proceeded to search the bedroom for her clothes. Harry appreciated her feminine, girly curves again as she bent and kneeled to look into the darkness. She found the tight shorts first and put them on, pulling the cloth as high as she could, forcing the fabric deep into the crack between her buttocks. Merlin, he already wanted to fuck her again.

When she was completely dressed in the nightgown and had found her wand, she walked back to him.

"Goodnight, Harry," she said. Despite her words, she sat at the edge of the bed, locked her arms around his neck, and kissed him deeply and hungrily.

"Goodnight," he said when they broke the kiss.

"Goodnight."

After she left, Harry had to look for his own clothes. He didn't want to sleep naked in case Rony or Hermione decided to wake him up in the morning, which also reminded him of the smell of sex from the fluids on the bed. Remembering Ginny's words, he cast a spell to vanish the evidence of their lovemaking. When he finally laid down, he found himself exhausted. Exhausted, but satisfied. That night, he didn't dream of sex.

0000000000

"Harry? Are you there? You finished your bath already?"

"Just a moment, Hermione!"

"Well, I'd hurry up if I were you; Mrs. Weasley will be serving dinner soon."

"'Kay, I'll be right there. Thanks!"

Retracing steps reached him through the closed door of the Burrow's bathroom. Harry threw his head back against the wall and breathed. Even time alone in the shower was a rarity in the Burrow. He looked down to stare into the eyes of a kneeling Ginny between his legs. She swung back and forth with his cock in her mouth, her tongue massaging his rod, and she applied suction as he had taught her. Her eyes watched his every move and every reaction as if they were drinking in his sight. She hadn't stopped fellating him for a moment while Hermione was there; rather, she had pinned him to the wall with her hands and sucked all the stronger for it. It made him wonder if the thought of having a penis in her mouth less than five feet away from her friend excited her.

What a little slut.

Harry cupped her cheek. Perhaps she sensed he was about to cum because next she picked up speed, slapped his balls against her chin, and let his cock hit her throat.

"I want you to swallow, Gin," he said without hesitation or shyness. He felt her nod and let go of his body. She stopped her movements and just held his shaft in her mouth as his cum streamed down her gulping throat. He spent himself in her stomach and relaxed, his penis softening. She still sucked a bit on it, to pull out the last drops before letting his meat slip out from between her lips. "Thanks, Ginny," he breathed out, the ecstasy of the orgasms still traveling through his body.

She beamed at him.

"You're welcome, Harry. I'll do it for you anytime you want," she said. The adoration in her words and in her eyes nearly took his breath away.

"Awesome," he replied, not knowing what else to say.

She rose to her feet and made for the door. She opened it slightly and peeked outside to see if there was anyone in the corridor. Just before she left, Harry reached out a hand beneath her mini-skirt and squeezed one side of her soft bum. His fingers went inside her crack to feel her little anus and the scanty underwear. She didn't even flinch at the contact; she just looked back at him with a lascivious smile.

"Come here," he said. She hopped back to him, threw her arms around his neck, and caught him in a wet kiss. "See you later tonight," he said when they parted. She licked her lips and nodded. He smacked her behind and let her go.

Life in the Burrow became even more fun after that night, when he first had sex with Ginny. Were it not extremely suspicious to send a letter to Fred and George thanking them for deciding to spend the rest of the summer at Lee's, Harry would have done so. Spending the night with Ginny became a nightly occurrence, and they would fuck until early in the morning. It followed something of a script every night: Rony and Hermione would stay in the room until about midnight just talking about Hogwarts things, Mrs. Weasley would come get them, Harry would wait about one to two hours, and then Ginny would come in his Invisibility Cloak. Sometimes in her nightgown, sometimes only in her underwear, most times already naked, she would come and give herself to him. She never refused; she never denied him. At the end of the night, she was sore and filled with cum and she thanked him for it.

He would not dare fuck her during daylight, afraid she may lose control of her voice and have them discovered by someone in the act. But blowjobs were possible as often as they could escape from the family, which sadly didn't happen with the frequency he wanted. Ginny had not been lying; she was happy and eager to swallow all the cum he unloaded on her mouth, though sometimes he let it out on her face just to see it covering her freckles. She said many times that she loved his semem and that it was simply delicious, although Harry doubted the bleach-smelling liquid could taste good when taken directly.

It didn't help that the girl was a tease and nearly insatiable. Though he only recently began noticing her body, Harry was used to seeing the younger sister of his best friend walk around the house in her shorts and miniskirts. He had always thought it was a personal choice of the girl, just to contrast with her sister, who preferred long pants. But seeing her flaunt her legs and the underside of her butt every chance she got, it occurred to him that her choice of attire might not have been so innocent. She was impossible. She would bend, stretch her legs on the couch, cross them, and do whatever she could to get him to look at her. Harry could swear he caught Hermione scowling at the girl more than once. Ginny pretended not to see it.

But he always got back at her later at night. And it was one of these retribution sessions—after a day when Ginny had elected to not wear underwear at all and flashed him her pussy through a mini-skirt whenever she could—that Harry decided to have all of her.

It was a couple days before they would return to Hogwarts, and Harry and Ginny were on the bed, naked and mating. She was on all fours, moaning and thrusting her buttocks into the air like a whore. Harry balanced himself on his knees and grabbed her hips as he plunged into her harder and harder. His eyes feasted on the curvaceous shape of her body provided by her position, her freckled pale neck and shoulders, and the round arse presented to him. But it was the pink ring of her anus that twitched the most as his pelvis collided with her flesh. Harry had told himself he would only attempt to fuck it when it was able to host three of his fingers, though he knew he was larger than that. Perhaps that was the night.

He stopped his motions and grasped her white buttcheeks. He spread them, and from below he heard a sharp intake of breath. She always did so when he was about to do what he was about to do. But she didn't tell him to stop. She never did. First, he ran his hand over his shaft to coat it with her juices, then, slowly, he brought his index finger to the rim of her little hole, touching and poking. She had it closed with strength, but after he traced the round contour a few times, he saw her relax and loosen the muscle for him.

Slowly again, he pushed the point inside, then to the second junction, and sometime later to the knuckle. It was tight and warm there and felt strange to the finger, but he loved it nonetheless. She clutched her muscle again after he finished with the first digit. He scratched the wrinkled flesh with his middle finger, and she loosened again. The second went like the first, and soon he had two digits fully inside her. She was breathing hard then. Harry touched her with his ring finger, and she looked back at him, her sweaty face and eyes filled with a strange mixture of fear and lust. The third went in, worming its way along the channel until it joined its brothers.

Harry left them there for a moment to feel her warmth, then retracted them. The hole closed and went back to its regular size as soon as they were out. Harry imagined what it would be like to see it gaping open for him, a wide ring to gaze into her insides. The thought stirred something in his loins. Fucking hell, I'm a pervert. With a cock as hard as iron, he decided he could wait no longer. He stuck it in her cunt one last time to coat his flesh with her juices, which were plentiful. The task done, he regarded his long-time buddy, and judging it well lubricated, he aligned it with her back entrance. She snapped her head back at him again, eyes truly wide now. Harry stroked her buttocks and the small of her back.

"You were bad today, Ginny," he said, a perverse smirk playing at the edge of his lips. "Showing me your pussy in the middle of the living room. Why did you do that?"

He grasped her waist with a firm grip, though she was making no attempts to flee.

She turned her face and buried it in the pillow. "I wanted you to fuck me," she said quietly. "I wanted to have sex with you..."

"You know we can't do it during the day," he said, the lust taking over. "You wanted to tease me, didn't you? Running around without panties and flashing me your cunt like a whore."

For a moment, when she didn't say anything, he thought he had gone too far, but then he heard a chuckle coming from the mass of red strands over the pillow.

"I'm a whore then, hmm..." she said. "So are you going to fuck this whore's arse or not?"

Harry grinned. He loved that about her. That fire. She was daring. Audacious. Dauntless. Aunt Petunia was a passionate lover, but he always got the feeling she enjoyed sex more for the contact and shared experience of it. Ginny, on the other hand, seemed to adore having sex—to be stuffed with cock and filled with sperm, be it in her womb or stomach. She was only thirteen and had gone just about a week without being a virgin. Harry could only imagine how she would be with more time and experience. Experience which he was glad to help her with.

He pushed his dick into her butthole. It stretched and pushed him back. Below, Ginny punched the mattress repeatedly while groaning through the pillow she was biting. Harry pushed the rest of his length inside and only stopped when his pelvis touched her butt. He closed his eyes and took a moment to appreciate the feeling of extreme tightness that the hole provided. He was back in his favorite place.

A squeeze on his dick brought the boy back to the world. He pulled it back until only the head remained inside, then thrust it back in. Ginny whimpered, and her whole body shuddered. Harry did it again and kept doing so until her whimpers turned to moans. Her legs gave out, and she fell down on her belly. Harry followed her, burying himself once more in her arse. He enclosed her with his arms and let his weight settle atop her, moving only his hips to continue the fucking.

"Ah, ah, ah, ah, ah," she moaned with each thrust, "ah, ah, ah, Merlin this is so, ah, good, ah, ah, ah, ah."

Harry was planting small kisses along her shoulder, up to her neck, and then to her ear, which he proceeded to lick inside and whisper, "Your arse is so good, Gin, I can't stop fucking it."

"Ah, ah, ah, your cock too, ah, is so good, ah, I love it, I love you," she said. "Harry, aaahh, what, ah, what are we?"

What?

"Ginny, I'm going to cum, okay?"

"Ah ah ah ah, please, please, inside me."

And with one last, resounding plunge, he came inside her rectum. He waited for the spurts to stop coming before he took it out. The sex had been good—too good—and he only had enough strength to spin her body on itself and let Ginny land on her back before the post-orgasmic tiredness settled in. He fell on her body, and she accepted him with open arms and a look of complete adoration in her eyes. He fell asleep seconds later, with the feeling of her fingers running through his hair.

00000000

What were they?

The question stayed in Harry's mind for much of the next few days. There he was, making love with Ginny on a daily basis and all. Merlin, the other day he had fallen asleep with her. It was a miracle she had woken up before morning and returned to her room. Were they a... couple? It had been different with Aunt Petunia. They were family, aunt and niece, and she was married. The thought of being something else with her never even crossed his mind. But Ginny wasn't his sister, or his cousin, or anything. She was a teenage girl who had declared her feelings for him.

Was he... taking advantage of her?

Without even considering the effect the Geass had on her (perhaps the only one in the house to be affected, from his observations, though he had no way to be sure), the girl sort of always had a crush on him. Was it right to act on that knowledge and indulge in her body? The fact she even asked him that question told him she was not okay with just being his sexual outlet. He was certain she would not stop having sex with him if he did nothing, but was he right? Maybe she would say nothing more of the matter and just be hurt inside if he never acknowledged her feelings.

That bothered Harry. Alone, sitting on the couch in the living room with the fourth-year Defence book in his hands, he could not chase these thoughts from his head. It was not like he didn't like Ginny. She was fun to be around, especially after they started meeting each other and she started being more outspoken in front of him.

With these thoughts in mind, Harry made his decision and, seeing Mr. Weasley walking into the kitchen, chose to follow him.

"Mr. Weasley," he said, walking through the archway. He stood awkwardly behind a chair and waited for Mr. Wasley, who looked to be searching for something inside the cupboard, to turn to him.

"Oh, hey, Harry," he replied.

"Mr. Weasley, I - I want to talk to you."

Mr. Weasley frowned for a second. "Sure, Harry, what do you want to talk about?"

Harry shifted on his feet. He ruminated for some moments and found there was no easy way to go about this. He faced Mr. Weasley and decided to just go through with it.

"Mr. Weasley, I think Ginny and I like each other," he said. "I want to ask your permission to date your daughter."

There was a moment of silence when Arthur Weasley just stared back at the boy, then the sound of breaking glass came from behind Harry, and the man looked beyond him. Harry twisted on his feet to see.

Standing under the archway, a shattered jar at her feet and pumpkin juice spilled on the floor, wide-eyed and with all the blood drained from her face, stood one Rony Weasley.