The outcome of Dumbledore's latest announcement was, not surprisingly, a happy one. In the following days, most of the school seemed in good spirits, smiling as they discussed possible reasons behind Snape's sudden departure.
Harry couldn't help but feel relieved. Whatever Snape's cryptic statements had meant, his leaving the castle had to be good news—at the very least, it meant Harry and his friends didn't have to keep an eye on him the way they did with Malfoy.
Malfoy, on the other hand, still hadn't been found—neither he nor his body. The initial shock of the news had worn off, and Harry was left with a bitter realization: no one seemed to miss him all that much. Apart from his supposed girlfriend, Pansy Parkinson, most of the Slytherins had stopped talking about him almost immediately.
Harry couldn't help but feel sad about the whole situation. He found himself thinking about the life Malfoy had lived—one where even his so-called friends didn't spare him a tear. It was no wonder he'd ended up entangled with the dark arts, especially given the influence of his family.
When their usual group—now often joined by Luna—met in the Room of Requirement the day after Snape's departure, Harry recounted what he'd overheard and the argument he'd had with Dumbledore. Hermione immediately shifted into puzzle-solving mode, determined to decipher the cryptic words Snape had left behind.
"It's quite obvious, isn't it?" Luna said in her usual dreamy tone. She had started appearing more often since Harry had more or less kidnapped Ginny from the library in the aftermath of the Dumbledore fight. The first time she joined them, she sat at their breakfast table and announced that it was finally safe to be around her friends again—because, apparently, the air was clear of Nargles.
She had also made no comment about Harry and Ginny sitting very close together, except to say, "Oh, you've finally sorted out your auras. That's nice. They were buzzing in opposite directions for weeks—it was making the garden gnomes dizzy."
Ginny had blinked. Harry had choked on his pumpkin juice. Luna had simply gone back to buttering her toast.
"How is it obvious, Luna?" Hermione asked in the Room with an eye-roll. She still wasn't quite used to Luna's way of thinking.
"Well… the Unbreakable Vow had to be about Draco," Luna said matter-of-factly. "It was clear Professor Snape was trying to help him. 'Would have known if it failed' must mean he would've felt it if the Vow had been broken. And 'couldn't be dead… else I'd be dead…'—well, that means Draco can't be dead. Snape vowed to protect him. If Malfoy had died, the Vow would've killed Snape."
She said it with such calm disinterest that Harry was momentarily stunned. Once she'd laid it out, it suddenly did seem obvious.
"Of course! Luna, you're brilliant!" he exclaimed, heart lifting at the possibility that Malfoy might still be alive.
Hermione didn't look convinced, but she pressed her lips together and stayed quiet.
"'Now it falls to me' could mean he had to leave the castle because Draco's protection was now solely his responsibility," Luna continued. "So he left to find him. To help him."
Ginny was beaming at Luna, clearly comforted by the possibility that Malfoy had survived.
"But what about the blood?" she asked. "The scene me and Harry found looked really bad."
"I wouldn't worry too much," Luna said airily, flipping through The Quibbler—upside down. "It sounds like he transformed into a mistweasel to escape."
"A what?" Ginny asked, already grinning.
"Oh, mistweasels are very rare," Luna explained. "They can turn into fog when frightened. Very handy if someone's being chased. But they always leave something messy behind—blood, fur, semen, buttons, you know."
Ron snorted loudly.
Hermione frowned. "And you think Malfoy is an unregistered mistweasel Animagus?"
"Well, obviously," Luna said, as though it were the most reasonable conclusion imaginable. "His father probably made him do it. For the aesthetic."
"In any case," Hermione said briskly, clearly done with Luna's theories, "they're both gone—Malfoy and Snape. We don't have to worry about them anymore."
….
And it was very nice not to worry about them anymore. Harry couldn't help but grin like a maniac as he lay in bed later that evening, reliving the part of the afternoon he'd spent with Ginny.
After his confession about the content of the Prophecy, their relationship had taken a much happier turn. Not only had it become more physical than before, but her knowing the truth lifted an unbearable weight from Harry's shoulders, and for once, he felt like a normal teenager.
With no manic classmate or terrifying professor to worry about, his usual anxieties shrank to almost nothing. Well, there was still the Prophecy, of course—but after making his peace with not getting help from the Headmaster, Harry had decided not to dwell on it. What would be the point? He couldn't change anything. And as Ginny kept reminding him, he was allowed to feel happy.
And happy he felt. After the departure of the two supposed Death Eaters from the school grounds, he felt immensely safer—not just at Hogwarts, but in his relationship as well.
Harry and Ginny had suddenly become much bolder than they were just a week ago. Maybe it was Harry's revelations, maybe it was Ginny taking that daring step into unknown but thrilling territory when she'd wrapped her hand around him for the first time.
But now, both of them felt a little restless. Their stolen hours in the mornings and their secret afternoons in the Room of Requirement were beginning to… not be enough. They hadn't taken another big step into uncharted physical territory, and Ginny hadn't repeated that bold move from that evening. Both of them worried they might be rushing things in this new relationship—but the door had been opened, and the possibility was exciting.
With every look they exchanged in the corridors, every stolen touch under the table at meals or in the Gryffindor common room, they both felt it. It felt more real than ever before.
Harry had even started thinking about the big L word in the quiet darkness of night, especially after replaying that afternoon in his mind—when Ginny had taken off her T-shirt for the first time.
It hadn't gone much further than that—her bra had stayed on, and they'd mostly just kissed, but it still left Harry feeling dizzy and breathless and a bit like his brain had short-circuited. There had been something incredibly trusting and intimate in the way she'd looked at him, unbothered, unashamed. It hadn't felt rushed or forced. It had felt… right. Like a quiet promise of more, someday, when they were both ready.
Of course, the memory of that moment had become a bit of a problem since then. Harry found himself thinking about it far more often than was probably healthy. His evenings had become notably… busier. And while it was mildly embarrassing, he couldn't exactly regret it. Not when just the thought of her made his heart race and his body react before his brain could catch up.
Was it too soon to tell her he loved her? Every day, he was more and more certain that he felt it. He missed her physically during classes, longed to see her mischievous smile, to pull her into his arms, to snog her senseless.
With this new direction, Harry and Ginny started getting a little careless about hiding their relationship.
With the two biggest threats gone and all their friends already in the know, they weren't as cautious as before. More than once, Harry had pulled Ginny from a crowded corridor and hidden with her in some secret passageway just to sneak a quick snog—only to part ways a minute later, breathless and smiling, heading off to their respective classes.
Aside from their relationship, other changes had shaken the castle too. With Snape gone, there had been no Defense Against the Dark Arts lessons for two whole weeks. The subject had been temporarily designated as self-study, though most students just saw it as a free period. Dumbledore had assured them someone new would be taking over soon, but so far, no one had arrived.
Meanwhile, Professor Slughorn had stepped in to take over Snape's duties as Head of Slytherin House. Most of the Slytherins didn't seem thrilled about the change, but Slughorn was doing his best to keep things running smoothly—though Harry suspected he spent more time trying to charm his favorite students than actually handling discipline.
At lunch on Friday, nearly two weeks after Snape's disappearance, Dumbledore finally made an announcement about the Defense Against the Dark Arts position. A temporary professor had been found, and lessons would resume on Monday.
He didn't mention the new teacher's name, and Harry couldn't help but hope it would be someone competent for once. The general reaction among the students was excitement—no one enjoyed self-study, and several of the old D.A. members even asked Harry if he would start the meetings again. He declined for now, hoping the situation would resolve itself soon enough.
That afternoon, on his way back from his final lesson of the day—Transfiguration—he ran into Ginny by chance. The sight of her made his heart skip. He suddenly realized he didn't want to wait another ten minutes to be with her, not when she was right there. Catching her eye, he tilted his head toward the tapestry on the wall, behind which a secret passage lay hidden.
They waited until the corridor cleared, then dashed behind the tapestry, slipping into the passageway together.
The moment they were out of sight, Harry pressed Ginny against the wall and kissed her hungrily. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he caught her with both hands under her bum, moaning softly into her mouth as their bodies pressed close.
The moment they were out of sight, Harry pressed Ginny against the wall and kissed her hungrily. She wrapped her legs around his waist, and he caught her under her bum, holding her up as their mouths moved together with growing urgency.
They'd barely had a moment alone all day, and now that they did, it was like the world melted away. Harry's hands roamed freely, one still holding her steady, the other sliding up beneath her jumper, exploring the warm skin of her back before moving higher—until his hand cupped her breast.
Ginny let out a soft, breathy gasp against his lips, and Harry responded with a groan, the heat between them threatening to boil over.
They didn't hear the footsteps. They didn't notice the faint shuffle of someone leaning against the opposite wall. They were too lost in each other—until someone cleared their throat.
Loudly.
Harry froze. Ginny tensed in his arms.
They slowly turned, Ginny dropping her legs from around his waist and tugging her jumper down hastily. Harry stepped slightly in front of her, hand falling to his side, heart pounding—not just from passion now, but from the sudden, dawning horror.
Theodore Nott stood a few steps away, leaning casually against the stone wall with his arms crossed, a small, amused smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Well," he said mildly, his dark eyes gleaming. "I was going to ask if this passage still led to the third-floor corridor, but I see it's already in use."
Harry stared at him, speechless.
It was obvious from the glint in Slytherin's eyes that he'd been standing there long enough to see plenty.
Harry stared at Theodore, speechless, his heart thudding uncomfortably in his chest now for an entirely different reason. Ginny stepped beside him, her face flushed but composed, arms crossed over her chest.
Theodore didn't move from his relaxed position against the wall. "Relax," he said dryly, holding up his hands in mock surrender. "I'm not about to run off and start writing to the Daily Prophet. Or worse—your brothers."
Ginny narrowed her eyes. "Good. Because if you do, you'll find yourself with a set of bat bogeys you won't forget."
Theodore gave her an appreciative look. "Terrifying. Duly noted."
He pushed off from the wall and took a slow step toward them, his tone turning more serious. "Look, I get it. Young love, adrenaline, hidden corridors—it's all very romantic. But you two might want to tone it down a bit."
Harry tensed. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"It means," Theodore said, eyes flicking from Harry to Ginny, "that not everyone who might catch you would be so… amused."
Harry frowned. "Is that a warning?"
Theodore tilted his head. "Call it friendly advice. Malfoy wasn't the only one in this castle who pays attention to what goes on behind the scenes. Some people are better at hiding their loyalties than others."
His words hung heavy in the air. The smirk was gone now, replaced by something unreadable.
Then, just like that, Theodore turned on his heel. "Anyway. I'll leave you two to your… self-study."
He disappeared down the passage before either of them could respond.
For a long moment, Harry didn't move. The adrenaline was gone, replaced by a cold weight in his stomach.
Truth be told, Theodore had a point. They hadn't exactly been subtle about their affection lately.
Especially not around the boys sharing a dormitory with Harry. They hadn't said a word, but Harry knew they'd noticed Ginny's frequent presence. The secret was no longer just theirs. The boys were keeping it too, whether they liked it or not.
Even Dean, who kept a polite distance whenever Ginny was around, seemed to have mostly gotten over the bitterness of her rejection. Seamus, on the other hand, didn't even try to hide his amusement—grinning whenever Harry walked into the room looking dreamily distracted.
But this had to stop. Now.
Harry still believed the dormitory boys wouldn't tell anyone. After five years of sharing that room, there was a silent understanding between them—a code built from awkward encounters, half-dressed wand mishaps, and late-night confessions best never repeated. They all had dirt on each other, and an unspoken agreement to keep their business inside the room.
Still… Harry wasn't willing to risk Ginny's safety on an unspoken agreement.
"Do you think he'll tell someone?" Ginny asked quietly.
"I don't know," Harry muttered, eyes fixed on the space where Theodore had vanished. "But I don't trust him. His dad's a Death Eater, and he knew about us. That means we're not careful enough. It means we're—bloody hell, we're exposed."
Ginny touched his arm gently, but Harry barely registered it. His mind was already spinning—visions of Voldemort finding out, of Ginny being targeted, of everything falling apart because of one stupid kiss behind a tapestry.
…..
Harry spent the weekend in a quiet panic, bracing himself for some catastrophic moment when it would become obvious their secret was out—but nothing came. No whispers, no stares, no howlers from Mrs Weasley. The world went on as if nothing had happened.
Still, Harry couldn't help watching Theodore Nott closely during meals in the Great Hall. But the Slytherin didn't even glance up from his plate. As Harry studied him, he noticed something curious—Theodore seemed to keep his distance from his housemates. He always sat alone and usually left the hall before anyone else.
It was oddly reassuring. If Harry had seen him deep in conversation with the likes of Crabbe or Goyle, he would've been certain that news of Harry's girlfriend was already halfway to Voldemort.
Saturday brought a welcome distraction in the form of the Gryffindor vs Slytherin Quidditch match.
The game was… quick and a bit of a letdown.
Gryffindor felt Katie's absence deeply, and although Dean—who had temporarily taken her spot—was doing his best, two weeks of training with a new formation wasn't nearly enough to bring back their usual synergy.
Luckily, Slytherin wasn't faring much better. Malfoy's disappearance had left them without a Keeper, and their hastily chosen replacement—a nervous second-year—was no match for Harry's seeking skills. The match ended in just over an hour with a crushing 240–80 victory for Gryffindor.
….
Sunday afternoon found them alone in the Room of Requirement, curled up together on a soft, oversized couch conjured by the room's ever-astute magic. The fire crackled gently in the hearth, casting golden light over Ginny's freckled skin and the soft flush on her cheeks.
They hadn't meant to start anything. It had begun with her tackling him onto the cushions, laughing as she called him "Captain Golden Snitch" and pretending to pin him for stealing the victory. But the laughter had faded into kisses, and the kisses into something slower, deeper—charged with the thrill of yesterday's match and the relief of still being safely hidden away.
At one point, Ginny whispered something teasing in his ear, a playful reminder of his old promise of 'returning the favor'.
And Harry—nervous, but more ready than he'd ever been—nodded, and then did his best to keep it.
He had no real experience, just a burning curiosity and the memory of Bill's mortifying but surprisingly informative talk over the summer. But what he lacked in skill, he made up for in focus and determination. He wanted to learn what Ginny liked, what made her arch toward him with a quiet gasp or bury her hands in his hair. He wanted to make her feel half as cherished as she made him feel every time she looked at him like that.
Ginny guided him gently when needed, but mostly just let herself melt under his touch, her trust in him doing more to boost his confidence than any speech from Bill ever could.
When they finally lay tangled together, breathless and rosy-cheeked, Ginny rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady thump of his heart.
"That," she murmured, lips brushing his collarbone, "was worth waiting for."
Harry laughed softly and kissed the top of her head, a little dazed. "Yeah… yeah, it really was."
For the first time in weeks, he wasn't thinking about Nott, or Malfoy, or prophecies. Just Ginny, safe in his arms, and the knowledge that he could make her happy too.
Later that evening, Harry returned to the common room to sit with his friends alone, since Ginny had gone up to the girls' dormitory to "recover," accompanied by a dramatic wink that nearly made him trip over his own feet. He was still smiling to himself as he watched her disappear up the stairs.
He tried. He really tried to keep his face neutral, to not give anything away in front of Ron. But his grin had a mind of its own.
He made it about five steps into the room before Ron looked up from a game of Exploding Snap, narrowed his eyes, and groaned so loudly that several first-years jumped.
"Oh Merlin, Harry—no. Whatever just happened, take that bloody face and bury it somewhere far away from me."
Harry blinked, caught, and rubbed at his cheeks, trying to school his expression. "What face?"
"That one," Ron said flatly, pointing at him. "The one where you're grinning like a lovesick lunatic who's just—no, never mind, I don't want to know."
Harry opened his mouth—possibly to deny it, possibly to say something even worse—but Ron held up a hand.
"Please, I'm begging you. Do not ever look at my sister like that in front of me again."
Harry chuckled, clearly not sorry at all. "I'll try, but no promises."
Ron gave him a glare of pure horror, shoved his cards into Seamus's hands, and stormed off toward the boys' dormitory, muttering something about eye bleach.
Dean, who had been watching from across the room, looked between Harry and the stairs Ron had vanished up. Then he raised his eyebrows and gave Harry a subtle, impressed nod.
Harry didn't even try to hide his grin anymore.
So much for subtlety.
….
On Monday at breakfast, every student was watching the Head Table, eager to catch a glimpse of the mysterious substitute for Professor Snape. But the seat for the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher remained empty. Harry wasn't too worried —sixth-years had the lesson later that afternoon, so they'd find out soon enough.
His immediate concern was Theodore Nott. The Slytherin hadn't tried to speak to him over the weekend, nor had he acknowledged their brief encounter behind the tapestry. Still, Harry couldn't stop thinking about it. Their first class of the day was Potions with the Slytherins, and Harry was tense with anticipation to see how Theodore would behave when they came face to face.
But throughout the entire lesson, Theodore didn't so much as glance his way. There was no smug smirking, no self-satisfied looks—nothing to suggest he was sitting on the most cherished secret of Harry's life.
By the time class ended, Harry allowed himself a bit of cautious relief. Maybe, just maybe, they'd been caught by the one Slytherin who wasn't planning to exploit the information for his own benefit.
Lunch was a quick affair, with the Defense chair still conspicuously empty, same as it had been the past few days. But Harry's excitement was building. What if the new teacher was someone like Remus, with practical, useful lessons? Or would it be another nightmare like Umbridge?
He was practically bouncing on his feet as he crossed the threshold into the Defense classroom, curiosity buzzing in his chest—until he stopped dead in his tracks. Ron, who was walking close behind him, bumped into his back with a grunt.
A slow smile spread across Harry's face as his eyes locked on the unmistakable figure at the blackboard.
Remus Lupin stood there, glancing around the incoming students a little nervously, looking as tired and kind as ever.
"Remus!" Harry exclaimed, his excitement evident as he walked across the classroom to greet him properly. Remus raised his hand in greeting, and they shook hands, both wearing matching smiles. The rest of the class watched the exchange with curiosity, clearly surprised by the familiarity between the two.
"Er, I mean, Professor Lupin," Harry corrected himself with a sheepish grin. "You're the temporary substitute?"
Remus smiled and settled into his desk. "Yes. I hope you don't find it strange, with our... new living arrangement. I didn't want to take the offer, but Albus insisted, so here I am."
"Nonsense, I'm just happy to see you here," Harry responded sincerely, then returned to his seat as the lesson was about to begin.
"Good afternoon, students," Remus began, standing at the front of the classroom. "I'm sure you remember me from your third year, and I'm sure you know why I left at the end of it. The situation remains the same, but Professor Dumbledore asked me to step in until a permanent Defense professor is found." He glanced at the students, standing slightly apart, clearly expecting a cold reception given the now widely known truth about his condition.
"I understand that my condition may worry some of you," he continued, his voice steady but serious. "To start, I want to reassure you that Professor Dumbledore, Madam Pomfrey, and I have come up with a plan to ensure everyone's safety while I'm here. I'll also make it clear that, should I need to remain longer than expected, I would leave the school before the full moon and return once it's over. But until this position is filled permanently, I'm your professor. I hope we can work together despite my condition."
Harry watched his classmates carefully, preparing himself to step in if anyone challenged Remus. Though the Slytherins exchanged glances that spoke volumes, none of them spoke out.
"You were the best teacher we ever had, of course we can work with you," Hermione said, rolling her eyes at the Slytherins' antics. Remus smiled warmly at her, visibly relieved, and with that, the lesson began.
The lesson was as engaging as Harry remembered from his third year, and he felt a wave of gratitude for having a competent teacher in his favorite subject for once. They finished the class with mock duels at the front of the classroom, and Harry couldn't suppress his smile—he was genuinely enjoying the lesson.
Once the bell rang, he went to check on Remus and they made plans to meet later that evening in Remus's new living quarters after dinner. Harry's grin lingered as he returned to his table to gather his things, but then he noticed a folded parchment resting on top of his Defense Against the Dark Arts book, one that hadn't been there before. He quickly opened it and scanned the writing inside.
Potter, meet me tomorrow after dinner. The same place as last time. I have information you'd like to know. Bring the girl.N.
It didn't take a genius to figure out who the message was from. So it begins, Harry thought, his stomach tightening. Theodore had probably spent the weekend mulling over his options, and now he wanted to meet. It looked like it was time for blackmail.
Harry spent the rest of his lessons distracted, the message gnawing at him. He couldn't wait to show it to Ginny, and maybe even Ron and Hermione, to get their thoughts on what to do next. Should they go to the meeting? What if it was a trap, a ruse to lure them into danger?
After his last lesson, Harry waited anxiously in the common room for Ginny to arrive. The moment she stepped through the door, he met her gaze with a serious expression and slipped out of the portrait hole without saying a word, hoping she would follow.
Ginny, of course, did. She knew him too well—understood that something was off. Together, they made their way to the Room of Requirement, where Harry showed her the message.
Ginny huffed, glaring at the parchment again. "Bring the girl? Does he not know my name?"
Harry blinked, taken aback by her reaction. "That's what you're worried about? I'm thinking he's gonna blackmail us, or attack us or something, and you're mad he described you as the girl?"
Ginny rolled her eyes, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. "I just wanted to disrupt your panic. It worked." She waved a dismissive hand. "Besides, I'm pretty sure I'm more than just 'the girl' to you, right?"
Harry couldn't help but grin, the tension easing just a little. "Right. You're definitely more than that."
"Exactly," she said, stepping closer to him. Her tone shifted, becoming more serious. "Look, I get that you're worried. But we've faced worse, haven't we? And you're thinking too much about this whole thing. We'll meet Nott—on our terms—and figure it out. No big deal."
Harry nodded slowly, appreciating her ability to stay calm. Ginny had a way of making even the most dire situations seem manageable. He took a deep breath, trying to force his nerves to settle. "You're right. We'll meet him tomorrow night. But... we're bringing backup, right? Ron, Hermione... someone?"
Ginny thought for a moment before shaking her head. "No, I think this is something we need to handle ourselves. But if things go south, I'm sure we'll come up with a plan." She smiled up at him, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Besides, if things go bad, who better to be stuck with than your girlfriend?"
Harry chuckled, though he couldn't shake the feeling of unease still creeping in. "I guess so."
Ginny slid her hand into his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "And don't forget, Harry—whatever happens, we've got each other. And we've always come out on top, right?"
"Yeah, you're right," he said again, the knot in his stomach loosening just a little. "Thanks, Gin."
Ginny smiled up at him, her expression softening. "No need to thank me. We're in this together. Always."
And there it was again, that big feeling swirling in Harry's chest—the certainty of what Ginny meant to him. The way she always managed to calm him down, the way she spoke about their relationship so casually... Like nothing was complicated, just the two of them, and it made perfect sense.
He was looking at her beautiful face, his smile gentle. Why had it taken him so long to notice her? She'd been right beside him every step of the way, and it had taken him six years to see her for what she truly was—one of the strongest, fiercest, most loyal people he'd ever met.
Unable to stop himself, he bowed his head and kissed her with a depth of feeling that surprised them both. Soon, they were both gasping for air, foreheads pressing against each other.
"Where did that come from?" Ginny asked breathlessly, staring into his emerald eyes with a curious smile.
"I just realized something," he answered, looking at her with tenderness that made Ginny's heart skip a beat.
"What did you realize?" she asked, her voice shaky, unsure if she was misreading the moment or not.
Harry didn't break eye contact, forehead still pressed to hers, as he lifted his hand to gently cup her cheek.
"I think I'm falling in love with you, Gin," he whispered.
For a heartbeat, Ginny just stared at him, wide-eyed, as if his words had knocked the wind out of her. Then, without a single word, she threw her arms around his neck and kissed him with so much force it made Harry stumble back a step.
He caught her instinctively, his hands finding her waist as they backed toward the couch, lips moving with urgency. Ginny climbed into his lap without breaking the kiss, her fingers sliding into his hair, tugging gently.
It was dizzying—how fast everything melted away: his nerves, his doubts, the looming meeting with Nott. All he could think about was her. The feel of her warm hands under the hem of his jumper, the way she pressed into him like she couldn't get close enough, the small, breathless noises she made when he kissed the spot just below her ear. The way her breast fit so perfectly into his hand, and the look she gave him when she took off her bra for the first time.
They explored each other's bodies with trembling fingers and hands, for the first time taking their sweet time with it all, savoring every moment, every gasp for air.
When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads resting together, both of them were flushed and breathless, hearts pounding in sync.
Ginny let out a soft, breathy laugh and collapsed back beside him, one arm flung across his chest. They stayed quiet, wrapped in the hazy warmth of the moment, the air still charged with everything unspoken.
Then Ginny tilted her head to look at him and grinned. "Oh," she said casually, like she'd just remembered something, "and I'm totally falling in love with you too, by the way."
Harry turned his head to look at her, his grin mirroring hers. "Yeah?"
"Yeah," she whispered, her smile softening into something more vulnerable. "Completely, hopelessly, maddeningly."
He pulled her closer, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
"Good," he murmured. "Because I don't think I could stop, even if I tried."
….
When Harry sat beside his friends at dinner in the Great Hall, Ron rolled his eyes dramatically.
"No. Just no. You promised to keep your happy face in check after time with Ginny, and you show up with that expression?"
Harry knew he was trying to wind him up, but Ron had once again correctly guessed the reason for his afterglow, and Harry blushed furiously.
"Ew. That's my sister," Ron added, pulling a disgusted face.
Hermione, who had been watching the exchange silently, leaned toward Ron.
"More importantly, she's Harry's girlfriend now. You could be more supportive," she whispered.
"I would be—if he were shagging anyone else!" Ron hissed back.
Harry groaned. "Ron! Merlin, we're not!" he said, his face crimson.
That seemed to calm Ron down a bit. "Well, that's good then. Let's keep it that way. At least for a while, yeah?"
Harry wasn't sure he'd ever eaten dinner so quickly, embarrassed by the conversation. He made an excuse and left straight after, heading to Remus's quarters—knowing full well he was too early, since Remus was still in the Great Hall when he'd left.
He didn't have to wait long. Soon, he was sitting in Remus's small living room with a cup of tea, talking excitedly about how glad he was to have him back as a professor.
Remus listened with a quiet smile, but his eyes kept searching Harry's face, like he was seeing him for the first time. It was starting to make Harry feel weird, as if Remus's piercing gaze could read him like a book.
"Er… do I have something in my teeth?" Harry asked, finally, feeling self-conscious.
To his surprise, Remus actually blushed.
"I'm sorry, Harry. I'm having an internal battle right now," he said.
"…Okay?" Harry replied, confused.
Remus stood up from the couch and moved to the armchair opposite Harry, looking suddenly awkward.
"I'll tell you—but I have to apologize in advance. This probably isn't a conversation you'll enjoy, especially considering we don't know each other very well yet."
Harry tensed, his curiosity growing.
"Harry… do you have a girlfriend?" Remus asked after a beat of silence.
Harry blinked, frowning. He had moved past the blissful haze from earlier, especially after Ron's comments, and he hadn't even been thinking about Ginny in that moment. How could Remus tell so soon?
"It's a werewolf thing… I have sharper senses, even in my human form," Remus explained, sheepish now, looking at his fingers. "I smell her all over you."
Harry's confusion turned to terror in a heartbeat, and he covered his face with one hand, his glasses pressing awkwardly against his palm. Judging by Remus's obvious discomfort, he wasn't talking about Ginny's flowery shampoo—more likely the remnants of their afternoon... activities. Apparently, a quick Scourgify hadn't been enough.
"Merlin. You can tell?" Harry whispered, mortified.
"It's completely natural, Harry. No need to be embarrassed," Remus said gently. "I'm only asking because… well, I don't know if anyone's ever taken the time to talk to you about these things. So… do you need some… er… information?"
Harry groaned into his hands. "Please, please no talk. I'm begging you."
Remus chuckled softly, though his ears were still pink. "Sorry, but someone has to make sure you're not stumbling into anything unprepared."
"I'm not!" Harry said quickly, lifting his head. "I mean, we're careful! I mean—not that we're—" He stopped himself, face on fire. "Look, Bill already gave me the talk, okay? Just after I turned sixteen."
Remus blinked. "Bill?"
Harry nodded, still red. "He went full-on big brother mode. Charts. Diagrams. Magical contraceptive spells. The works. I swear, it was… educational and traumatising."
A beat of silence passed, and then Remus burst out laughing, the tension between them melting instantly.
"Well," he said, wiping his eyes, "sounds like you've been thoroughly briefed. I suppose I can skip the pamphlets."
Harry groaned again. "Please do."
The awkwardness faded then, replaced by something gentler as Remus leaned back in his chair, studying Harry with a much softer expression.
"So… who's the lucky girl?" he asked, smiling.
Harry hesitated for only a second. "Ginny," he said, voice quiet but steady. "We've been keeping it quiet, but yeah. It's her."
Remus's eyebrows lifted slightly, clearly surprised—but pleasantly so. "Ginny Weasley?"
Harry nodded, fiddling with the edge of his sleeve. "She's… brilliant. And fierce. And funny. And she doesn't let me get away with anything."
There was a long pause.
"And I told her today," Harry said, his voice dropping even lower. "That I'm falling in love with her."
Remus's expression softened further, his eyes crinkling at the corners.
"And how did she take it?" he asked gently.
Harry grinned, warmth flooding his chest at the memory. "She kissed me so hard I nearly fell over. And then told me she's falling for me too."
Remus let out a quiet laugh. "Well. I'd say you're doing better than most boys your age."
Harry chuckled, then looked up at Remus with a smile that was equal parts shy and proud. "Thanks. I mean it."
"You deserve good things, Harry," Remus said seriously. "And if Ginny's one of them—hold onto her. Carefully."
"I will," Harry said. "I really will."
Remus chuckled again, shaking his head as he took another sip of his tea.
"You know," he said thoughtfully, "there's something truly poetic about the fact that Bill gave you the talk... and now you're using that knowledge on his little sister."
Harry choked on air. "Remus!"
Remus laughed harder. "What? It's hilarious! The poor man walked you through every awkward detail, completely unaware you'd be putting it into practice with Ginny!"
"Don't say it like that," Harry groaned, covering his face again. "Merlin, if he ever finds out—"
"Oh, I think you'll want to keep that a secret forever," Remus said with a mischievous glint in his eye. "At least until you're both adults and he can't hex you."
Harry let out a muffled laugh behind his hands. "You're evil."
"I prefer chaotic good," Remus said with a grin.
They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the teasing fading into quiet comfort. The fire crackled softly in the hearth, and for the first time in what felt like ages, Harry felt truly… safe.
….
The next day after dinner, Harry stood frozen behind a faded tapestry on the third floor, every nerve in his body stretched taut like a bowstring. The passageway behind the tapestry was dimly lit, cold, and quiet—far too quiet for his liking.
He clutched the Marauder's Map in one hand, his wand in the other, eyes flicking nervously between the winding lines of ink that represented people moving through the castle. His gaze stayed glued to the dot labeled Theodore Nott, now steadily approaching the marked corner of the hallway where the entrance to the passage lay.
"He's alone," Ginny whispered beside him, peering over his shoulder at the map. "No one's followed him. No one's hiding nearby."
Harry chewed the inside of his cheek. "Could still be an ambush. Someone under a Disillusionment Charm. Or using Polyjuice. Or—"
"Harry," Ginny interrupted gently, placing a steadying hand on his arm. "We've been checking the map for an hour. If this is a trap, it's a really boring, slow-moving one."
He huffed, not entirely soothed. "I just—he's a Slytherin, and I don't exactly have the best history with his lot."
Ginny gave his arm a small squeeze. "That's why I'm here, remember? We've got the map. We've got our wands. You've got your Cloak. And if anything feels wrong, we walk away."
Harry nodded, exhaling slowly. "Right."
From the other side of the tapestry, they heard soft footsteps and then a hesitant voice: "Potter?"
Harry tensed again.
Ginny rolled her eyes and pulled the tapestry aside with a sharp flick. "You took your time," she said dryly.
Nott jumped slightly but then stepped fully into view, hands raised slightly as if to show he wasn't a threat. "Sorry. I wasn't sure if you'd actually show."
"We almost didn't," Harry said cautiously, still gripping his wand tightly. "You didn't leave us much to go on."
Nott nodded, his expression unreadable. "Yeah. I couldn't. Not until I knew you'd come alone."
"We did," Ginny said, crossing her arms. "So start talking."
Theodore looked them over with a sharp eye, then slowly drew his wand—not to raise it, but to lay it gently on the ground near the entrance. He walked to the opposite side of the passage.
Harry blinked in surprise.
"Look, I know you don't trust me. I don't exactly trust you either," Theo began. "But better you than anyone else in this school. I get that you've not had the best experiences with Slytherins. So, I'm trying to make you feel better. Hence, the wand. I need you to listen to me—actually listen—without worrying about an attack. So I made some preparations."
Harry and Ginny leaned against the opposite wall, still watching him cautiously. This wasn't at all what they expected. Theodore could see that and gave them a wry smirk as he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small vial.
"Catch!" he said, tossing it to Harry.
"Do you recognize what this is?"
Harry opened the vial carefully and sniffed the contents. It smelled like… nothing. Just as he thought.
"This is Veritaserum, isn't it?" he asked with a spark of realization.
"Bingo. Ten points to Gryffindor," Theo replied. "Yes, it's Veritaserum. I know where I stand with you, so I'm willing to take it to prove I mean what I say. That I'm not lying. Because believe me—being seen with you would be worse for me than for you."
Harry had to admit—he was impressed. A few minutes ago, he couldn't imagine any scenario where he'd consider trusting Theodore Nott. But now… he wasn't so sure.
Ginny, however, wasn't swayed so easily.
"How do we know you didn't tamper with it?" she asked skeptically. "What if it's faulty?"
"You can test it yourself," Theodore said without hesitation. "I brought the antidote too. One of you can try it, and the other can ask a question. You can even Silence me, so I can't use it to get any information out of you."
Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance. Curiosity got the better of them. After a quick whispered conversation, they decided Harry would take the potion, and Ginny would ask a question and then administer the antidote.
A minute later, Harry was carefully letting a drop of the potion hit his tongue. A strange numbness immediately dulled his senses.
"What charm did Bill make you practice over the summer?" Ginny asked sweetly.
Harry heard the question, but his foggy brain didn't quite register the consequences.
"He told me to practice the Contraceptive Charm, which I did with my next wank," he answered without hesitation.
Ginny bit her lip, shaking with suppressed laughter as she handed him the antidote. A few moments later, Harry's mind cleared—and realization hit him like a Bludger.
He turned to her with a betrayed look. "You're lucky I love you. That was evil."
"Sorry! I didn't know!" she said between giggles. "But—why before wanking?"
"You can tell if it worked while doing so," Harry groaned, his ears turning red as he turned back to Theodore.
Theo was clearly amused but trying to hide it. Harry cleared his throat.
"Anyway… the Veritaserum works. So, you just take it and start talking?"
"Not quite," Theodore said, shaking his head. "When you're under it, your brain's too foggy to remember what you wanted to say. So I wrote a list of questions." He pulled a folded parchment from his back pocket and handed it over. "Here. Read through them. You can ask me anything on this list once I've taken the potion."
"And if we want to ask something that isn't on it?" Ginny asked, still eyeing him warily.
"Then ask now, and I'll decide whether to add it. I'm doing you a favor here—don't take advantage of my vulnerability."
Harry looked over the list of questions, and there was one thing he wanted to know that wasn't on it.
"I'd like to ask why you decided to contact us," he said.
Theodore nodded after a brief moment of consideration.
"And I want to know what's in this for you," Ginny added, her tone cool.
Theo took a bit longer with that one, but eventually nodded again.
"Is that all?" he asked as Ginny scribbled their additional questions at the bottom of the parchment.
Harry and Ginny exchanged a glance, then nodded.
Without another word, Theodore lowered himself onto the dusty floor of the passage and sat cross-legged. He uncorked the vial and held it up with a mock toast. "Cheers," he said dryly, then let three careful drops fall onto his tongue.
Within seconds, his eyes became unfocused and glassy, as if he were drifting through a half-forgotten dream.
Ginny read the first question from the list. "Why did you want to meet us?"
"I wanted to warn you," Theodore answered in a low, hazy voice. "You've made more enemies in my House than you realize, and you're not being careful enough with your affection. Gossip has already started spreading about you two. I believe you don't want that information reaching Voldemort."
Harry and Ginny exchanged a frightened look, but they knew there would be time to think about it later. Harry continued with the second question.
"Why do you think it's worse for you to be seen with us than for us to be seen with you?"
"I don't agree with Slytherin's point of view, but I need them to protect me," Theodore said. "I've spent years building a quiet, neutral reputation. Talking to Gryffindors makes me a traitor to them, especially if it's you, Potter."
"Are you working for Voldemort or any Death Eater?" Ginny asked.
"No. My father does, though." Theodore's voice was flat.
They continued through the list of questions.
What do you want from us in return? — Cooperation and silence.
Why do you trust us enough to come to us with this? — Because you have more power than you realize, and we're in a position to help each other.
What do you know about Malfoy? — I know he blamed you for something, which is why you're blacklisted with the other Slytherins.
Do you want to help us fight Voldemort? — Yes, but not openly.
"Is anyone else planning to come after us or hurt us?" Ginny asked.
"I would watch out for Pansy if I were you," Theodore warned. "She blames you for Malfoy's death, and she's willing to hurt you too."
Finally, they were at the end of the list, with only their added questions remaining. They still didn't know why Theodore was talking to them, and they both sensed that the next two questions might reveal the reason.
"Why did you decide to contact us?" Harry asked quietly.
"Because I need your help, and I believe I can help you in return," Theodore replied.
Ginny asked the final question. "What's in this for you?"
Theodore didn't respond right away. His eyes, still glassy and distant from the Veritaserum, flicked between Harry and Ginny as if searching for something in their faces. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, but the truth carried weight.
"My family has money… a lot of it. But I won't see a Knut of it unless I meet certain expectations. One of them is that I'm supposed to be courting a respectable pure-blood girl by the time I turn seventeen in January. They've already started asking questions. They're suspicious. Wondering why I haven't chosen anyone yet."
Harry frowned slightly, waiting for Theodore to continue.
"But I'm not interested in girls," Theodore said plainly.
The passage fell into a stunned silence. Ginny's lips parted slightly, her eyebrows shooting up, but she didn't say a word. Harry just blinked.
"If they found out," Theodore went on, his tone darker now, "they'd cut me off. No inheritance. No safety. Nothing. I'd be on my own, and they'd make sure I regretted it."
He exhaled, his shoulders sinking a little. "Ginny, you're… ideal. Pure-blood, brave, already involved with someone which means it wouldn't be real—just for show. I figured if I proposed a fake courtship, it would buy me the time I need. And with that the gossip about you two would end. We would be protected - all of us."
Harry and Ginny stared at him.
"I wasn't going to ask this while under the potion," he added, his expression a little wry despite the haze in his voice, "but I figured you'd never trust me otherwise. So there it is. That's what's in it for me."
The quiet stretched long after the words faded, until Ginny finally spoke, softly.
"Well… that explains a lot."
Harry handed him the antidote, and Theodore's eyes gradually lost their glassy look. He blinked a few times, refocusing on them, his expression cautious.
"I hope you understand this is my deepest secret," he said quietly. "A boy being into boys is seen as just as much a disgrace as marrying a Muggle-born in some pure-blood families. Mine is exactly like that."
He looked down, his voice trembling just slightly.
"I need to get away from them. My father… he wants to offer me to Voldemort the moment I leave school. And that's the last thing I want. I need to run—away from Britain, maybe even from Europe. My family will look for me, so I have to go far enough that they'll never find me."
He took a deep breath, then dropped his head into his hands. All the bravado was gone. Now, he looked terrified. Defeated. And Harry found himself struggling to believe this was the same boy he'd considered a potential threat just half an hour ago.
"To run that far, I need my inheritance. My trust fund. But to get the money, I have to convince my family I'm still loyal. That I'm not going to shame them… so I need to be dating a respectable pure-blood."
The passage fell into a tense, heavy silence. Harry and Ginny looked at each other, both understanding now—maybe more than they wanted to—why Theodore had come to them. And suddenly, neither of them could feel anything but compassion for him.
Ginny slowly crossed the small space between them and crouched beside Theodore. She didn't touch him, but her presence was steady and warm.
"I'm sorry," she said gently. "That's a lot to carry on your own."
Theodore didn't look up, but there was the tiniest nod, like her words had reached him.
Harry sat down on the opposite side, not quite as graceful with his emotions, but his voice was sincere. "That's... awful. I can't imagine going through that, not knowing who you can trust."
Theodore gave a dry, humorless chuckle. "Well. Now you do."
Ginny offered a small smile, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "You don't need to do this alone anymore. We don't have an answer for you yet, but—thank you for trusting us."
For the first time, Theodore looked up. His eyes were still tired, but a faint flicker of hope had returned.
After a moment, he stood up and brushed the dust off his trousers. He moved slowly, collecting the empty vial, the list of questions, and his wand, which he slid back into his pocket without haste.
"Think it over," he said, not meeting their eyes again. "Come back to me when you decide."
He turned to leave, but Harry called out softly, "Thank you, Theodore."
The boy paused at the entrance of the passage and looked back, just for a second.
"Theo," he said. "Only my father calls me Theodore."
And without waiting for a response, he stepped into the shadows and was gone.