The Black Lake Chapter 8, a harry potter fanfic

The Black Lake

Chapter 8

Have you ever been in love, Tom?

I've never had time for such trivial things, Ginevra.

Oh.

Oh? You seem disappointed. Why is that I wonder? Do you fancy yourself in love with someone?

Of course not-

Tell me, Ginevra. I do so love it when you tell me your secrets.

You already know all my secrets, silly.

Perhaps. But surely there is one thing you haven't confided in me? One thing you've kept to yourself?

I tell you everything! I wrote to you for hours last night. I even fell asleep with the quill in my hand.

Ah, but I want everything you have to say. I cherish every word you lay upon these pages, and you write to me so sweetly. But it isn't enough. I need your secrets. All of them.

Well, it isn't really a secret. It's a dream I had.

A dream you say?

It's silly, really.

Tell me. It will please me if you do.

Alright. But you can't tease me.

I'm not like your brothers. You can tell me anything.

I had a dream I was in love. I was older, and there was a boy with me. He looked at me like I was the most wonderful thing he had ever seen. We danced and kissed in a meadow. It was like a fairytale coming to life. I want someone to look at me the way that boy did. I want to fall in love.

You do not need love, Ginevra.

Maybe... But in my dream, it was so very special. I want to have something great like that, something that makes me feel beautiful and powerful-

You have me, don't you? As for beauty and power, you needn't worry. You already have both of those things.

I don't think so. I'm plain. Plain and poor.

Some treasures cannot be measured by monetary value. Even I started with nothing. Riches can be used for purchase, yes, but there are other ways to acquire what you desire.

My mum says there are some things more precious than galleons. Is that what you mean?

Something like that.

Oh. Even so, I'm still plain. I don't think that can ever change.

That is not what I see. You have a fire within you- flame and passion. Are those things not beautiful? Surely your foolish brothers tell you these things?

No, they... they don't. I think I just embarrass them. Especially Ron. They are busy with other things. I just get in the way.

Is that so? Well, that is disappointing. They should tell you that you are beautiful every day. Not to worry though, I will tell you until you start to believe it. That's what friends do. I'm your friend, your very best friend. You could never be in my way.

Thank you, Tom. Sometimes I just... I feel like you're the only friend I have.

I'm the only friend you need.

I don't think that is how it is supposed to be. I should have more friends. I should be talking more with my brothers and the other girls in my year. I don't know if-

Those silly girls and your brothers don't have time for you, but I do. I'm your true friend. I'm the only one who can see the hidden potential within you.

Hidden potential?

Oh yes. Unripe fruit, Ginevra.

I don't understand-

You are like an unripe fruit, so terribly young and small. Your mind, your body, and your power all need time to grow, to be nurtured and guided. You need someone to show you what you can become, to show you what you are capable of. I will show you these things, but you must allow me to do so.

I-I want to, but-

One day- sooner than you think- it will all be different. You will see. Your nasty brothers, your neglectful parents, and those horrid girls at school will all look upon your beauty and power, and they will be in awe. You will be a force in the world, reaching heights you never knew were possible.

Do you really think so, Tom?

I do. You can have these things- and more- if you let me guide you, if you let me teach you. You can have the things you've always desired. No wish great or small will be out of your reach. I can see the power within you. It is locked away just now, but someday it will be something magnificent to behold.

That sounds wonderful.

It does, doesn't it?

Are you really sure I can be all of those things?

I'm very sure.

How do you know?

Because all things ripen in time.

I suppose...

Do not trouble yourself any longer on this. We have more... important matters. While you are busy daydreaming, I am still stuck in this diary, am I not?

I'm sorry Tom, I didn't mean-

It's quite alright. I know you will help me. You are the key, Ginevra, you are going to set me free. Once I'm free, I will no longer be a slave to these pages, no longer a prisoner bound to this book. Together, we will do extraordinary things.

What kind of things?

Anything you want.

I want to see the world.

That is quite admirable. I too wish to travel to other lands. Once I am back in my body, I will need to seek out certain magical beasts and creatures. I need to acquire their loyalty.

Why?

Oh, just like you, sweet girl, I am in need of friends. Special friends. Giants, Dragons, and all manner of magical beings. If I am to help grant your wishes, I will need their help.

And Mermaids? I heard there are some in the lake. I've always wanted to see one.

Mermaids are selfish, vile creatures. I have sought their help before. I begged the Mermaid Queen to help me, and she laughed in the face of my plight. She was so very cruel to me, and she refused to help my cause. Such arrogance. They care only for their own kind, and not for the suffering of others. They will never be your friends, Ginevra. They are the enemy.

The enemy?

Yes, the enemy. You will soon learn that friends must be chosen wisely. Anyone who is not loyal to you, who does not share your purpose, is your enemy. They will be treated as such.

Oh. I never really thought about it like that. I think my friends-

Haven't I told you? I am your only true friend. Friends help each other, don't they? You would do anything to help me, wouldn't you? Would you help end my suffering?

Oh, yes of course! I would do whatever you need! I don't want you to hurt anymore.

Good girl. It will be so easy to help me. Painless. All you have to do is trust me and do what I say.

If you're sure...

I am. Now, close your eyes.

What will happen when I do?

Don't worry about that just now. You trust me, don't you?

Well, yes-

That's good. Now close your eyes. You seem exhausted. You haven't been sleeping enough, have you? You need to close your eyes and rest.

You're right, I haven't been sleeping well. I feel dead on my feet.

Just close your eyes, sweet girl. I'll take care of you.

I'm so tired...

Close your eyes.

"Hello," Harry said carefully. "Or... welcome, I suppose I should say."

He barely managed the awkward greeting, his gaze moving across the room. Twenty pairs of eyes stared back at him. The room full of first-year students could have been mistaken for a muggle painting- no one moved in the slightest. Harry stood in the front of his classroom by the blackboard, nervously fiddling with his wand. He had heard the bustling of students entering the room, but when he moved inside to face them, he might as well have cast a freezing charm on the lot of them. Jaws slackened, most of them were staring unabashedly, eyes wide and in awe, while others looked wary and held a bit of fear, echoing Harry's own nerves. A blond Hufflepuff eyed him dreamily, nibbling her quill in her mouth. A dark-haired Ravenclaw sat back in his chair with his arms folded and lips pursed in suspicion. The rest seemed to be resolutely holding their breath, waiting for him to continue.

Dear god, what have I gotten into?

Harry suddenly felt like the room was much too warm, and the collar of his robes was much too tight. His mouth felt like a desert, his tongue sticking to the roof of his mouth. He cleared his throat roughly, before shaking away his doubts. "I am Professor Potter," he said firmly, and much more confident than he felt. "I will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts." Folding his arms, he surveyed the young faces around him. "Are there any questions before I begin?"

He regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth because the moment they did, every single hand in the classroom flew into the air. The blond Hufflepuff stood on her tiptoes, nearly jumping in the air to reach her hand higher than anyone else's.

Harry ran a hand over his face and sighed. "Right. Okay. So, does anyone here have a question that is not related to Voldemort?"

A few hands lowered.

"Or the Battle of Hogwarts?"

A few more.

"Or the prophecy?"

Another.

"Or my scar?"

All hands lowered except for one. Harry blinked in surprise. The blond Hufflepuff was now blushing, but her hand remained firmly in the air. She looked as if she was near to bursting with whatever she wanted to ask.

"Well, alright then, that just leaves you, miss-?"

"Everlett, sir." The girl answered breathlessly. "Claudine Everlett."

"Okay, Miss Everlett. What is your question, then?"

She looked at him so admiringly, for one frightening moment Harry feared she would run right up to him. Instead, she grasped the side of her desk, like it was tethering her from doing exactly that.

"Professor Potter," she breathed, "are you... are you dating anyone?"

Harry's mouth fell open slightly.

Well, fuck.

Miss Everlett was waiting with bated breath. Harry tried not to look as incredulous as he felt. The other students seemed just as surprised as him, though more than one of the females looked highly interested in what he would answer the excited girl.

"Right," he said, pointedly ignoring the question. "So, moving on." Fighting an embarrassing heat creeping up his neck, he moved over to the blackboard and grabbed his book. Miss Everlett plopped down in her chair, arms folded petulantly. Ignoring her, he waved his wand and the course outline appeared on the board. He stared at it for a moment, before turning back to his class.

"So, this is what we are required to cover this year according to Hogwarts standards." He pocketed his hands debating on his next words. The young students- too young to have been a part of The Day- all suddenly looked quite vulnerable to him. The earlier tension was gone. He slowly paced in front of the blackboard. "I intend to cover all of these topics, but that is not what is important to me. As you are all aware, we are recovering from a war, and I know that there has been a lot of... loss. There has been a lot of fear." He could see it in their silent faces. Emotions flitted across the first years- shoulders hunching, heads bowing, backs stiffening. They may not have fought in battles themselves, but it was clear several of them were still victims of combat.

"What is important to me," he continued, "Is that you know how to protect yourselves. I want you to know what to do when the unexpected happens. I want you to be prepared. Knowing what to do when danger arrives will not only keep you safe, but it will tamper your fear. You should never feel helpless, you should feel armed with your knowledge."

A burly Gryffindor raised his hand, and Harry nodded at him to speak.

"What kind of danger do you think we'll be facing?" He asked nervously. "Er, Professor."

Harry chuckled, smiling wryly. "Ideally, I'd hope you never encounter anything more dangerous than a Flobberworm, but based on experience, life in the magical world tends to be creative and unpredictable. Dark Wizards and Witches are like cockroaches- I may have squashed one, may have squashed a BIG one- but inevitably more will pop up in its place."

A gasp sounded, his words sending a wave of shock and disbelief through the classroom. They gaped at him, fear apparent in their eyes. The burly Gryffindor knocked his quill and ink on the ground as he flinched.

A Slytherin girl raised her hand, and it trembled slightly in the air.

"Professor? Are you saying there is going to be another Dark Lord? I mean, is this all going to happen again?"

Harry considered her for a moment. She looked almost tearful. He waved his wand again, and the blackboard curriculum vanished. In its place, several portraits appeared, some smiling, some surly, all with dates underneath them. He allowed the class to study them for a moment.

"You may recognize a few of these faces." He said, gesturing to the board. "This gentleman right here, you may recognize as Grindelwald. At the time of his infamy, the war was not secluded to the wizarding world. Nearly all of Europe was in turmoil, and he used it to his advantage until he was defeated by Albus Dumbledore." He highlighted the next photo. A handsome, stoic sixteen-year-old with back hair stared out at the class. "This is Tom Riddle, who became Lord Voldemort." Another round of gasps resounded, and he turned back to the class.

"Look," he said gently, "I know it doesn't seem like it, but I'm not trying to frighten you. I just want to show you that history has an unfortunate pattern of repeating itself. Please don't take this as a reason to live in fear of the next Dark Wizard. Take it as a reason to learn as much as you can. Your knowledge will be one of your greatest protections."

The class still seemed dubious.

"Besides, he said shuffling his feet, "You never know if that evil Flobberworm will stumble into a nuclear powerplant and then try to destroy Tokyo."

"Nuclear what?"

"What did he say?"

Harry cleared his throat again. "Never mind that." With a wave of his wand, he cleared the board again, turning back to his class. "Okay then, what's the hold-up? Wands out."

The class immediately began fumbling in their bags for their wands, and Harry let out a breath. It never hurt to be prepared, right? Maybe these first years would go an entire lifetime without any Dark Wizards...

Even so, he thought moodily, the lingering effects of war and Dark Magic were just as much of a threat. A pang of despair and worry crept up in him before he could tamp it down. A flash of wet, red hair, and dark brown eyes popped up unwillingly. He tried to shake away the image because now was not the time to dwell on her. She invaded his thoughts relentlessly, but he was determined to push her from them when he was in the classroom. If he didn't, his eyes would glaze over, and he would simply gaze longingly at the lake, completely useless as a Professor at that point. Unable to stop himself he looked out the window towards the lake. Towards her. Even when he couldn't see her, she was like the sun- bright and fierce and drawing him towards her, always pulling him near. He was powerless against it, but he wouldn't want to fight it anyway. Every day they were apart only fueled the urgency to just be with her. He couldn't explain the deepening connection he felt with her, a connection he had never felt with anyone else. He didn't believe in soul mates, but was it possible his soul was longing for her? And she seemed just as drawn to him- just as puzzled at their... whatever they had. Was there another prophecy somewhere in the department of mysteries he didn't know about? One that said that she would inexplicably need to be a part of his life? That she would consume his mind, his thoughts, his dreams until he figured out how to help her? Were they lovers in a past life, and that feeling he felt she looked up at him, drops of lake water rolling down her skin, was him remembering a joining of their hearts and souls? Had the gods or fate or the universe or whatever simply decided that they belonged together?

"Er, Professor?"

Harry startled a bit, nearly dropping his wand. The students didn't seem to notice the fumble, and he coughed.

"Right. Okay. Let's begin."

"Tom, please! Why are you doing this?"

She lay huddled on the wet stone floor, bound and trembling. He smiled down at her, his handsome features twisted unnaturally.

"Don't you remember, sweet girl?" he asked as he knelt down, caressing her cheek with a cold, translucent hand. "You said you would do anything for me. Anything. You swore to help me. I need you, Ginevra. I need your life. I need your very soul."

"But I don't want to die," Ginny sobbed. "I thought you were my friend!"

He leaned in closer, cold eyes peering sharply at her.

"Are you quite sure of that? You've been fighting me. You tried to get rid of me. You even tried to tell your brother about me. Does that sound like a true friend, Ginevra? Because if I didn't know better, I would say that you were determined to betray me." His hand moved to her throat, his jaw clenching. "And what did I tell you before about friends? If you aren't with me, you are against me. If you aren't my friend, then you are the enemy. If you are an enemy to my cause, then you must be struck down like the others."

"Others?"

Tom grinned widely. "Oh yes, sweet girl. There have been many. So many I have killed, so many I have cursed, so many I have made suffer. Muggles, schoolmates, magical creatures... anyone who defied my cause. Anyone who refused me. And now, you."

Ginny could feel her essence drifting out of her, right into the hand that tried to clasp her throat, the hand that was becoming less translucent and more life-like. Tears fell down the sides of her face. "Please," she blurted pathetically, knowing it was hopeless. "Don't do this."

"It must be done, I'm afraid. You fought me and you will pay for it with your life. It's a precious gift, I will remember it forever."

All light was fading, and Ginny felt herself slipping away- unable to move, barely able to think. Tom was less ethereal, more human. Darkness clouded her vision, threatening to pull her under. Her heart which was once pounding relentlessly within her began to slow. A blinding blast of magic erupted in the chamber. Tom's screams of fury echoed off the stone walls. Her eyes fell closed. There was a swish of cloaks, the crackling of powerful magic, a booming voice that thundered around her, and the otherworldly cry of a phoenix. She felt a presence near her face, a tickling of feathers, a melodic trill in her ear. A warm, firm hand clasped her shoulder.

"Wake up, Miss Weasley."

"Just a moment, Potter, we need to talk about your classes today."

Harry was walking quickly down the corridor, Professor McGonagall struggling to keep pace with him.

"Oh?" He answered her, not looking away from where he was going. "I thought it all went rather well. At least the portions where I was able to teach. I spent a fair time dodging inappropriate personal questions about my sex life-"

"For Godric's sake, please tell me that is an exaggeration! That- that's just-" she sputtered a moment, before sighing exasperatedly. "Some of your students are becoming paranoid about the next Dark Wizard. I daresay you may have put the fear of Merlin in the lot of them."

"That's just as well, I want them to be prepared. But as far as I'm concerned, they have nothing to worry about. At least for right now."

"You need to tamper down the doom and gloom, you are beginning to sound like Alastor Moody with that sort of talk-"

"That's the 'constant vigilance' bloke, right? He seemed alright."

"That was not meant as a compliment, Professor Potter," she sent a sideways glare at him, "Skilled as he was- and Godric knows I'm grateful for his sacrifice, rest his soul- the man destroyed every present at his birthday party because he was convinced a Death Eater had sent him a Basilisk Egg. If you could simply ease back a bit, maybe make that a bit clearer in your next classes that you are simply educating them-"

"Will do, Professor, but if you'll please excuse me."

Professor McGonagall gawked at the dismissal, halting in the hallway. Harry picked up his pace. She could reprimand him later. His quick pace turned into a full run once he left the doors at Hogwarts.

Minutes later he was there. In their spot. The grotto was warm from the sunlit day, the waves of the lake lapping gently on the rocks. He sat cross-legged on the ground, pulling out his wand and prodding the water, waiting.

Hours later, a highly agitated Harry stormed through the castle doors. The sunlit day had given way to a rainstorm, and his wet locks plastered to his forehead. His robes dripped on the ground with each step, and he heard the caretaker curse loudly at him when he stalked by. Jaw and fists clenched, he waved his hand and wandlessly wrenched open the door to his chambers, nearly pulling it off its hinges. He waved an agitated hand in the air and it shut behind him with a slam. His fireplace roared to life, and he stood in front of it- pacing- trying fruitlessly to calm down. Chalking it up as a lost cause, he grabbed a handful of Floo powder and viciously cast it into the fire. He knelt on the ground, leaning forward, and speaking into the flames, his hands digging into his thighs.

A smiling, friendly-faced brunette appeared in the flames. "Oh, hello, Harry," she said. However, upon seeing the look on Harry's face, her smile faltered. "Is everything alright?" She asked warily.

"Three weeks," Harry growled. "Now can I start panicking?"

"As soon I saw it, I knew."

Ron's words to Harry were quiet in the flat- like he was relaying a great secret only meant for Harry's ears. Teatime had been forgotten as Ron, Harry, and Hermione stared down at the treasured relic. Ron's eyes were lit with excitement- determination- as he nodded towards the object.

Harry held a battered and broken clock in his hands- but it was unlike any clock he had ever seen. No numbers, only destinations.

"The hands," Ron continued, "there used to be one for all of us- one for each of us kids and for mum and dad. Obviously, that must have changed on... on The Day. But see, you can see this hand is mine."

Harry stared down at the heirloom. Ron's hand was currently pointed to a space labeled 'Home.' But that was not the hand that held his gaze in place.

"When I saw it, I realized that you were telling the truth." Ron rubbed his hands together anxiously. "After all this time, I didn't dare hope, you know? But I knew it then. I knew it was the truth."

Barely processing Ron's words, Harry reached out, one finger gently touching the only other hand that still remained on the Weasley clock. The hand- slightly warped and darkened from the destruction of the Burrow- belonged to Ginny Weasley, and it was currently pointed to 'Lost.' After gazing at it longingly- as if he were reaching out to her instead of just to her hand on the clock- he dragged his gaze away and looked at Ron and Hermione. They each had an excited, expectant look.

"So," Ron slapped his knees, smiling. "When can I see my sister?"

"It's been three bloody weeks, Hermione."

Staring into the flames, he sat back on his heels, his fists clenched as they rested on his legs. Three weeks. Three weeks since he had had tea in Ron's flat. Three weeks since he had held the Weasley clock. Three weeks since Ron had asked to see his sister. Three weeks since Harry had told the couple that he had sent her away to get the truth from the Merpeople... and she'd never returned.

The guilt and worry that he forced down during his classes came back with a vengeance- stifling, choking him- unable to swallow it down. Every day, every hour, every venture to the cool waters was wasted with the consuming thought of where she could be, what she was doing, and if she was alright. A million different scenarios appeared like nightmares in his mind only they played out while he was well and truly awake... Imagining her trapped, imagining her hurt, and worst of all, imagining her not wanting to go back to the surface, not wanting to come back to him.

Not wanting to see him again.

Each thought hurt more than the last. Harry blew out a breath, trying desperately not to lose his temper. From the flames, Harry saw Hermione's face fall, her eyes softening in sympathy.

"Oh, Harry. I'm so sorry." She said genuinely. "I know. I know it's terrible. Ron's been in a right state as well. He's so worried."

Harry was breathing heavily, his face harsh and full of frustration. Hermione- bless her- seemed to sense it was not directed at her. "I've been patient," he continued with a little less harshness, "I really have. I've waited. But this is ridiculous. At what point is it ok to panic? Is it now? Because I think I'm officially panicking. Something is seriously wrong, I just know it."

Hermione just looked at him, allowing him to vent. He made a mental note to thank her later. "I can't wait anymore," he choked out, scrunching his eyes shut. "I have to find her. I feel like I'm going to lose my fucking mind if I don't."

Hermione reached through the flames, placing a comforting hand on his arm. "Why don't you come on through, Harry? Ron just got home, and I've got a roast cooking. Let's have dinner and we all can talk."

Harry could only nod silently- gratefully- before he stood and made his way into the Weasley's flat.

Much later, Harry sat stiffly at the dining table with Ron and Hermione, a cup of tea clutched in his hands. Neither of the trio had eaten much, all picking at their food in contemplative silence. All three mulling the same worry in their minds. The supper dishes were in the sink, and the dripping of the tap sounded more like a drum. Harry had managed to quiet his temper, but still feeling grumpy and moody, he scowled viciously enough into his mug that the tea began to bubble. Hermione had her chin in one hand, eyes glazed over in thought while her other hand absentmindedly twirled her wand. Ron, having been the only one to have eaten more than a mouthful of food, rubbed his eyes with a sigh and finally broke the silence.

"Why don't we just go down there and get her?" He asked, leaning forward on his elbows. "It's not like she has to come to us, is it?"

Hermione shook her head. "It's too dangerous. We already agreed that would be a last resort."

"Well, it seems like we've just about reached that, haven't we?" Ron scoffed at her.

"The Merpeople are incredibly territorial," Hermione persisted, "they will attack if they feel threatened. And from what Harry said, they aren't on good terms with humans, or even with Hagrid at the moment"

"Yes, but how much longer do we sit around like this? None of us can focus. I'm so worked up, I yelled at Fritz the other day for breathing too loud. And Harry's ruining all of our flatware."

Harry glanced down at the spoon he had unknowingly been holding in his hand. He opened his palm and saw that it had been warped into a bizarre metallic spiral. "Sorry," he murmured sheepishly, moving his hands to his lap.

"S'alright, mate," Ron said, clapping him on the shoulder. "At least you didn't melt these ones."

"Ron," Hermione began again impatiently. "This is difficult for everyone, we are all worried about her. But we don't need to go panicking just yet, we need to be patient."

"Well, fuck that," Ron snapped. "We just need to go get her. And Harry agrees with me."

"Harry is the one who warned us how dangerous that would be." Hermione sat back in her seat in a huff, folding her arms and eyebrows raised. She looked challengingly at Harry. "Didn't you?"

"That was weeks ago!" Ron argued, turning to Harry. "It's different now, isn't it?"

The couple looked at him, both clearly wanting him to support their view. It was true- he had warned them of how dangerous it would be for them to try and retrieve Ginny from the Merpeople. His research revealed them to be quite territorial and defensive- sometimes violent. Ginny herself had mentioned the Merpeople in the lake were distrusting of humans, and the relationship they had with Hagrid was frigid at best. But- as Ron had pointed out- that had been weeks ago. Three of the longest weeks of his life. Three weeks of torture.

"I think we need to go down and get her." He said firmly. Hermione's mouth fell open in surprise, and Ron let out a whoop of triumph.

"Be reasonable," Hermione plead, "You were the one who said-"

"I know what I said," he replied, holding up a hand to stop her, "but like Ron said, it has been too long- way too long, Hermione. She was only supposed to be gone for a few days. She didn't even want to go- I made her go- I told her she needed to find out the truth. It's all my fault. Why did I send her away? Alone? I thought it was the right thing to do, I guess. I thought it would help her remember, or at least knowing the truth would help… But now, I don't know if she's hurt, or trapped or…" he cut off abruptly, not wanting to say the worry out loud.

Alive.

Hermione looked near tears, but she had a warm smile on her face. Ron was looking at him scrutinizingly, but not in an unfriendly way.

"You obviously care for her very much," Hermione said softly, grasping his hand. "I'm so glad she found you."

"Well, yes," Harry admitted, "I mean she's my… friend. A good friend."

A good friend that I am obsessed with. A good friend whose silky red hair and soft skin I dream about. A good friend who spent long hours in the sunlit days with me, warm afternoons in the grotto with me. Talking and listening. Just being with me. A friend I miss so much that there is an unrelenting ache in the pit of my stomach...

But Ron didn't need to hear all that.

"Alright, how about this," Hermione said, bringing Harry back to reality. "We wait out this week, and if she hasn't shown by Friday, we go into the lake on Saturday and look for her."

Harry nodded mutely in agreement.

"Right," Ron said cheerily, "Should we get McGonagall in on this? Or a team of Aurors? I can talk with Robards, maybe they can help us figure out how to break the curse as well."

Harry shook his head. "We should just see if she's down there, first. See if she's alright. And, I sort of bothered McGonagall about Ginny… a lot. And she made me promise not to bring it up again."

"The old bat didn't believe you?"

"Neither did you," Harry shot back. "And neither will the Aurors until we have proof."

"Ah, well, it's a fucking barmy claim, isn't it?"

"Language, Ron. You're up to three sickles for the swear jar."

Ron put a hand on Hermione's giving her a winning smile. "Sorry, love." He turned back to Harry. "We can prove she's down there easy enough. When she comes back, why don't we just take a picture of her?"

"Can't," Harry murmured, his earlier depression coming back. "Merpeople are a class of Magical Creatures that won't show up in photographs."

"Muggles have been trying to get pictures of them for decades." Hermione agreed, tapping the table. "Besides, we have limited proof until she returns. What about Legilimency? One of the Aurors could take a look at Harry's memories, couldn't they?"

"I mean, they could," Ron countered tilting his head to the side, "But the Aurors know that memories can be modified or even faked, so they might not go along based on that alone."

"A Pensieve," Harry stated, mind whirring. "I could show the memory of her in a Pensieve."

"Yes," Ron agreed, "that could be better. It's a lot easier to spot a fake or tampered memory in a Pensieve. They would have to believe you then, right? Then we could show it to McGonagall as well."

"The only problem is," Hermione added hesitantly, "Where could we get ahold of one? They are so rare and very expensive. Just finding one could be problematic. I don't even know if the Ministry has one."

"Dumbledore had one." Harry said. "I remember he had one in his office. I don't know what happened to it after The Day, but…" He looked up determinedly at the couple. "I'll find one. We'll need help to break her curse, and to get help, we'll need people to believe us. But before all of that, I need to make sure she's okay."

"We," Ron added.

"All of us," Hermione agreed, suddenly business-like. "Now you two need to pull yourselves together until the weekend."

Harry lowered his forehead onto the table. It would be a long week.

"I'll try," he muttered, his voice muffled against the table.

It was Thursday.

The sun was setting on the grounds of Hogwarts, and Harry was walking slowly under the waning daylight, heading towards the Black Lake. Each day of the redheaded girl's absence weighed heavier and heavier on him, and his treks to the Lake grew more and more weary. Each day was a long wait, with the inevitable disappointment when he saw no sign of her.

His classes were going well- and the inappropriate inquiries into his personal life had finally trickled down to a minimum. There were still a few awkward moments- the occasional note from a student asking for private tutoring, a sixth-year Gryffindor girl who had asked him to show her the 'right way to hold a wand', and a few parents who had a thing or two to say about his blunt teaching style- but overall, he had managed to keep his head. He was immensely grateful to Sirius for teaching him Occlumency, to which he had developed a habit of compartmentalizing things in his mind. It was of much help to him now, where the moment he stepped in front of the class, he would fold and neatly tuck away all thoughts of Ginny and water and Mermaids.

Now, he was back in the grotto, and he allowed the thoughts to rush back in, though it made him sullen and moody when he did.

He missed her. God how he missed her.

He missed the look of wonder and curiosity when he spoke to her. He missed the rapt attention she gave him when he spoke. He missed that stubborn lock of hair she was always needing to tuck behind her ear. He missed her soft smile and dark eyes, the hours they had spent together in the little grotto.

The grotto now felt lonelier than ever.

Giving it up as yet another wasted day, Harry rose and stormed outside, back towards the castle. The sky darkened to match his mood, and he hoped no one showed up in his path as he felt liable to snap at anything in his way.

He was almost to the large oak doors when he felt it.

An itch, a tingle, a something, crept across the back of his neck, and he froze mid-step. His hand instinctively moved to his wand, clasping it tightly as he listened. There was a gentle breeze moving across the darkening grounds, and the crow of blackbirds settling down for the night. All appearances showed a serene evening, but the hair on the back of his neck stood on end, and his blood began roaring in his ears.

Then he was running.

He ran back where he had just come from, back toward the Black Lake, and he wasn't stopping for anything. He ran back down the path, down the hill, to the shore, and that's when he heard it. Heard her. Skidding to a stop on the pebbles, he looked toward the mound of boulders where the grotto was. From deep inside he could hear her. He could hear her crying. Stumbling a bit, he sprinted forward toward her cries.

The grotto was nearly pitch black when he reached it, and he lit his wand with a small wave, sending a warm glow throughout the cavern. His heart nearly stopped when he realized she was there- she was really there. The glow of his wand landed on the red of her hair, casting one of the most beautiful colors he had ever seen. Her face was hidden, folded within her arms as she leaned against the rock, her shoulders shaking as she sobbed, her Mermaid tail fluttering limply in the water.

"Oh, God." He breathed, half panicked, half filled with incredible relief. Unable to stop himself, he dropped the wand to the ground, shed his outer robes, and jumped into the frigid lake water. He swam to her, gasping as his muscles seized slightly from the shock of cold. In seconds he was grasping her, his hands on her cool skin, peeling her distraught form away from the rock and into his eager arms. She was back. She was finally back. "You're here," He murmured into her wet hair, holding her tightly. The part of him deep inside- the aching part- warmed like it was near a gentle flame, fluttering into a soothing heartbeat. She was his flame. Her small form in his arms, her cool skin under his hands, warmed him more than the rays of the sun, more than a roaring fire. It was then he knew that despite their troubles, despite the curse, they simply were not meant to be apart.

She wrapped her arms around him, small hands fisting his shirt, and he could feel her trembling. He pulled back, looking down at her, moving a wet lock of hair away from her tear-stained face. Her beautiful, chocolate-brown eyes looked back at him, and he had never been so grateful for a sight. "I came here every day waiting for you, I'm so sorry I sent you away," he said, his voice cracking. He held her face gently in his hands. "I was going mad, you know? You scared the fuck out of me. I didn't know if you were hurt, or trapped or..." He quickly glanced over her, looking for injuries. Finding none, he looked into her eyes, hoping she could see what his words would not say. She blinked through her tears, her hand reaching up to clasp his face. He softened his voice, touching his forehead to hers. "These last few months with you... it was like something that was meant to be. I was meant to find you, I know it. When you didn't come back, I didn't know what to do. I didn't know if I would ever see you again."

Her lip quivered in response, more tears falling.

"Please don't cry," he soothed, wiping her tears. "It's alright, we're together now. Everything will be fine, I'm sure of it."

She gulped, nodding in his hands. "You were right Harry," she choked out.

"You were right about everything."

A/N: The Weasley clock and details about Mermaids, Legilimency, and Pensieves are slightly altered from canon. Thanks a million to Gin110881 for the Beta!

The conversation between Tom and Ginny is inspired by the fic Underworld by Diamonds to Dust, and also by the author Anise. (Fair Warning- Before you go search these, just know that Underworld and the stories by Anise are not canon pairings)