The rest of the lesson passed in a blur for Harry. His mind was still reeling from the recent revelations about fancying Ginny.
Slughorn's voice pulled him out of his daze as the professor clapped his hands together. "Now, now! I have a little incentive for you all today," he announced cheerfully, holding up a small, shimmering vial. The potion inside swirled like molten gold, sending tiny sparks dancing through the glass.
"Felix Felicis," Hermione whispered in awe.
"Liquid luck," Slughorn confirmed. "Brew the best Draught of Living Death, and you shall win twelve hours of luck! Off you go!"
Harry barely registered Hermione and Ron scrambling for ingredients. Normally, he would have been thrilled at the chance to win such a valuable potion. He even had an advantage—his book, the Half-Blood Prince's book, was filled with alternative instructions far superior to the standard recipe.
But Harry's focus wasn't on Potions.
His mind was occupied with flashes of Ginny—her laughter at breakfast, the scent of her hair in the Amortentia, the way she had blushed when she called him fit. Every time he tried to measure out an ingredient, his brain supplied another memory of her instead.
He managed to follow the Prince's instructions, but he was careless. His Valerian root wasn't finely chopped, his stirring was uneven, and at one point, he nearly added too much of the wrong ingredient before Hermione hissed a warning at him.
Across the room, the other students weren't faring much better. Even Hermione, who was usually precise to the last detail, seemed frustrated with her attempt. Ron's potion was a murky shade of grey, and the Slytherins weren't producing anything impressive either.
As time ran out, Slughorn moved from cauldron to cauldron, humming in disappointment.
"Well, well," he said, surveying the lackluster results. "I must say, I expected better from my N.E.W.T. students! Not a single potion here is up to scratch. Pity—looks like the Felix Felicis is staying with me." He pocketed the vial with a dramatic flourish.
Harry sighed, slumping back onto his stool. He had followed the Prince's instructions, but he had been too distracted, too caught up in his own thoughts to execute them properly.
The rest of the classes that day weren't much better, and by the end of it, Hermione was watching Harry closely. She had, of course, noticed that he had been lost in thought all day.
"Are you all right, Harry? You seem distracted," she asked.
Harry avoided her eyes and shrugged. He didn't have an answer for her—at least, not one he was ready to admit.
With that, they made their way to the Great Hall for dinner. Harry's breath hitched the moment he realized Ginny was already there, sitting in the seat she had taken over that morning—right next to his usual spot.
He wasn't sure how to act around her. He had fancied her for some time now, but only realized it today. And this was the first time he had seen her since then—he had missed lunch with her.
He was terrified that now that he knew, everyone else would know too. And he didn't want Ginny to find out. She probably didn't feel the same, and even if she did, it wasn't like Harry was in a position to start a relationship. Was he?
He sat beside her with a nod in greeting and focused on his dinner. Ginny looked like she wanted to say something to him, but when he didn't lift his eyes from his plate, she turned to Colin and Demelza instead.
The meal was interrupted by the arrival of a school owl, which brought Harry an invitation for a private lesson with Dumbledore in his office after dinner. Harry eyed the letter curiously, grateful for the distraction from the battle inside his head.
He showed it to Ginny first, then to Hermione and Ron. All of them reacted with excitement, whispering ideas about what Dumbledore's lesson might be.
Harry, however, already had a good idea. After learning the contents of the Prophecy, he expected that Dumbledore would start preparing him for the inevitable fight with Voldemort.
His friends didn't know about the Prophecy yet, and Harry wasn't sure he wanted to tell them. He had been thinking about it on and off all summer. The weight of his fate had kept him up at night, and he knew that sharing it with them might help lighten the burden. But at the same time, he knew what they would do. They wouldn't hesitate to fight alongside him—to put themselves in danger for him. And he couldn't let that happen. No, it was better if they didn't know.
It was ironic—Harry usually shared his worries with Ron, Hermione, and now even Ginny. But the biggest, most terrifying truth had to remain his secret.
And it wasn't just the war itself that weighed on him. The Prophecy was the reason he was so afraid of his feelings for Ginny. Since learning its contents, he had known there was no chance of a normal life for him. Everyone close to him was a potential target, and if he had a girlfriend, Voldemort would make it his priority to use her against him.
That thought made his stomach twist.
Pushing his unease aside, Harry excused himself from the table and made his way to Dumbledore's office.
Harry arrived at eight o'clock, feeling both curious and slightly nervous. Dumbledore welcomed him warmly, offered him a seat, and explained that their lessons would focus on understanding Voldemort's past—because knowledge, Dumbledore believed, was Harry's greatest weapon.
To begin, Dumbledore showed Harry a memory belonging to a former Ministry official, Bob Ogden. Using the Pensieve, they entered the memory and witnessed Ogden's visit to the Gaunt family, Voldemort's ancestors. Harry saw Marvolo Gaunt, Voldemort's grandfather, a violent and prejudiced man obsessed with his pure-blood heritage, and Morfin Gaunt, his unstable and aggressive son. Most importantly, Harry learned about Merope Gaunt, Voldemort's mother—abused, downtrodden, and seemingly without magical confidence.
Dumbledore explained that Merope later escaped her family and, most likely using a love potion, ensnared a Muggle named Tom Riddle Sr., Voldemort's father. However, when she stopped giving him the potion, he abandoned her, leaving her pregnant and alone.
The lesson ended with Dumbledore emphasizing that Voldemort came from a loveless union and that this absence of love might have shaped who he became. He dismissed Harry for the night, leaving him with much to think about.
When Harry met Ginny the next day for their run, he was firmly determined to ignore his feelings toward her. He didn't want to endanger her, which was exactly what would happen if he acted on his feelings. He resolved to continue with their easy friendship—nothing more.
But despite his best efforts, his nerves got the better of him. Running with Ginny had always been easy, filled with teasing and friendly competition, but now he found himself hyperaware of her every movement. The way her hair bounced with each step, the way she grinned when she pushed ahead of him—it all made his stomach twist uncomfortably. And when she laughed, the sound sent a warmth through him that he desperately tried to ignore.
Because of this, he unconsciously started to distance himself. Ginny noticed almost immediately. Their usual friendly banter was reduced to school-related topics like lessons and upcoming Quidditch tryouts. At first, she brushed it off, assuming he was tired from classes, but after a few days, she grew frustrated. She missed his jokes, the way their conversations used to flow effortlessly. She even tested him by making an exaggerated comment about Snape's hair, expecting a witty remark, but Harry only hummed in response.
Even their friends noticed something was wrong. In the days that followed, Harry often spent hours in silence, lost in thought—obsessing over the Prophecy, his future, and the unfairness of the situation with Ginny. As the first two weeks of classes flew by, he realized that, despite his resolve to do nothing, there was nothing he wanted more than to be with her.
Sometimes, when she looked at him with her blazing eyes, he found himself staring at her lips, wondering how she would taste if he leaned in and kissed her. The thought always sent a jolt through him, and he would quickly find some excuse to leave, heart pounding in his chest.
And then there were the dreams. It was as if the moment he acknowledged his feelings, his subconscious decided to torment him. Every night, images of Ginny filled his mind, her hands on his skin, her mouth on his, making him wake up panting and frustrated—sometimes with an embarrassing mess in his pajama bottoms. On mornings like those, he was profoundly grateful that his friends weren't skilled in Legilimency.
The dreams left him feeling unbearably guilty. He knew he couldn't control what he dreamt about, but after nights like that, facing Ginny was impossible. He could barely make eye contact with her.
Ginny, meanwhile, was trying to figure out what had changed. She assumed Harry's lessons with Dumbledore were the reason for his odd behavior, and their friends agreed. He had been acting strangely ever since the first day of classes, and the only major event that had happened was his private meeting with Dumbledore.
She asked him about it a few times, but he always responded vaguely, so she eventually stopped trying, hoping he would open up on his own. But as the days passed with no change, she grew tired of waiting. She knew Harry needed some kind of distraction—after all, he had looked the most relaxed she had seen him in weeks during Quidditch tryouts earlier that Saturday.
If a distraction was what he needed, she would find one for him. Or, if necessary, create one.
Luckily, fate intervened.
On her way out of the Great Hall after dinner with Colin and Demelza, she spotted Draco Malfoy heading up the staircase. He was walking alone, looking around as if making sure no one was following him. Ginny narrowed her eyes. What was he up to, sneaking around just before curfew? It was suspicious.
She quickly excused herself from her friends and hurried toward Gryffindor Tower, shoving the portrait hole open and sprinting up the stairs to the sixth-year boys' dormitory. She didn't even think before bursting inside.
Harry was lying on his four-poster bed in nothing but his pajama pants, staring blankly at the ceiling. At the sound of the door slamming open, he bolted upright, looking at her in confusion.
"Ready for some spying?" she asked breathlessly.
Harry blinked at her, caught off guard, his troubles momentarily forgotten. He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. Ginny was momentarily distracted—Harry had definitely gained some muscle since the first evening she'd seen him like this, and her mouth went dry.
"I just saw Malfoy sneaking upstairs," she explained quickly. "It looked suspicious. Maybe you could check your map and see where he went?"
At the mention of Malfoy, Harry immediately scrambled to his trunk, pulling out the Marauder's Map and activating it. Ginny sat down beside him on the bed, leaning against his shoulder to peer at the map with him.
"There he is!" Harry said excitedly, his voice filled with the kind of energy she hadn't heard in weeks.
Ginny smiled to herself. Her distraction had worked.
They watched Malfoy's dot on the Marauder's Map. He was on the seventh floor, pacing back and forth beside the wall, trying to be inconspicuous. Harry frowned as a sudden realization struck him—one that was confirmed moments later when Malfoy's dot vanished from the map.
"What?" Ginny asked, confused by his disappearance.
Harry closed the map and turned to look at her. Their faces were incredibly close.
"He went into the Room of Requirement," he whispered.
Ginny glanced up, meeting his bright green eyes, and her heart skipped a beat. He was watching her intently, and they were sitting so close they were practically pressed together. And Harry was still shirtless. Her gaze flickered to his lips, wondering what he would do if she leaned up just a little and—
The door swung open.
They both snapped their heads up, startled, to see who had interrupted them.
Dean.
His eyes landed on them, taking in their closeness, and he raised an eyebrow.
"Not ready for a relationship, Ginny?" he muttered bitterly, repeating the excuse she had given him on the train ride.
The moment he said it, Harry realized just how intimate their position must have looked. His stomach twisted uncomfortably, and, suddenly feeling far too exposed, he bolted from the bed, frantically searching for a shirt.
Ginny's face burned with embarrassment. She avoided both of their gazes, her heart still racing for entirely different reasons. A moment ago, she had been on the verge of losing the battle with her self-control, sure she was about to kiss Harry. If Dean hadn't shown up... she wasn't sure whether she felt upset or relieved by the interruption.
She pushed herself off Harry's bed, deciding to leave the room.
"Where are you going?" Harry asked, sounding confused. He stepped toward her again, lowering his voice. "I thought we were going to check out the Malfoy situation… well, if you're up for some rule-breaking." He gave her a mischievous look, nodding toward the Invisibility Cloak in his hand.
Ginny grinned. "Yeah, totally! See you in a bit in the common room?" She assumed Harry would want to change out of his pajamas before they left Gryffindor Tower.
But either he was too preoccupied with the plan—or he simply didn't care.
Before she could react, he grabbed her wrist and tugged her out of the dormitory, leaving a bitter-looking Dean behind. The warmth of his hand against her skin sent a jolt through her, making her pulse quicken. She blinked, confused by how natural it felt. Her heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, she forgot all about the mission at hand
Harry strode down the dormitory stairs with purpose, his mind already running through the possibilities of what Malfoy could be doing in the Room of Requirement. Ginny kept pace beside him, her heart still hammering from their moment upstairs, but Harry seemed completely unaware of anything except the map clutched in his free hand.
It wasn't until they reached the middle of the Common Room that she realized he was still holding her wrist.
A few students were scattered around, finishing up their homework or chatting before curfew, but all conversation near the fireplace stopped the moment Harry and Ginny appeared. Hermione, Ron, and Neville were sitting together, clearly mid-conversation, but their heads turned in sync when they caught sight of them.
Hermione frowned immediately at the map in Harry's hand. "You're not sneaking out, are you?"
Harry, still distracted, finally let go of Ginny's wrist as he tucked the Marauder's Map into his pocket. "Malfoy's up to something," he said shortly.
Ron, who had been lazily chewing on a licorice wand, suddenly narrowed his eyes. "Oi—why were you holding Ginny's hand?"
Harry blinked, caught off guard. "What? I—" He looked at Ginny, who simply raised an eyebrow, waiting for his response. "Oh. Er—was I?"
Ginny smirked. "Yeah, for quite a while, actually."
Ron's ears turned red, and he pointed a suspicious finger between them. "You two aren't—"
"Not now, Ron!" Hermione cut in sharply, redirecting the conversation. "Harry, you do realize there's only fifteen minutes until curfew? If you get caught—"
"We won't," Ginny said breezily.
Hermione huffed in frustration, but Neville was watching them both with interest. "You two look really excited," he said, tilting his head. "Did something happen after you left dinner?"
Ginny stiffened slightly, but Harry, still caught up in his mission, simply said, "We'll tell you later," before reaching for his Invisibility Cloak.
Ron was still staring between them, looking as though something was just now clicking in his head. His mouth opened slightly, then snapped shut as his expression turned incredulous.
"Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath.
Hermione sighed. "Fine. But if you get caught, don't say I didn't warn you."
Harry barely heard her. He was already moving toward the portrait hole, pulling the Cloak over them both as they slipped out into the corridor.
As soon as the portrait hole swung shut behind Harry and Ginny, Ron turned back to Hermione and Neville, his expression scrunched in deep thought. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, then shook his head as if trying to clear it.
Neville leaned forward. "You alright, Ron?"
Ron gestured vaguely at the door. "Did that just—what—were they always like this?"
Hermione sighed, rubbing her temples. "Honestly, Ron."
"No, really! When did they start running off together? And why was Harry holding her hand?"
"They weren't holding hands, Ron," Hermione corrected. "Harry was holding her wrist."
Ron's ears were still red. "Oh, well, that's completely different, isn't it?" he said sarcastically.
Neville grinned. "To be fair, they did look… close. They were whispering to each other and everything."
Ron looked at Neville in alarm. "They were whispering? What kind of whispering?"
"I dunno, the kind where they stand really close and look like they have some grand secret," Neville said with a shrug. "I thought maybe they got together after dinner or something. They seemed pretty excited."
Ron's face was now a mix of horror and disbelief. "No, they—Ginny would've said something, right? And Harry—" He trailed off, eyes narrowing.
Hermione let out a frustrated sigh. "For Merlin's sake, Ron, they're not secretly dating."
Ron looked relieved for half a second before Hermione continued, "But if you actually paid attention, you'd notice that Harry's been acting differently around Ginny for weeks now."
Ron's eyebrows shot up. "He has?"
"Yes!" Hermione huffed.
Ron sat back, eyes darting between them. "So you're saying… what? That Harry fancies Ginny?"
Hermione and Neville exchanged a look.
"Finally," Hermione muttered.
Neville chuckled. "Well, I wasn't gonna say it first, but yeah, that's what it looks like."
Ron gaped at them. "Bloody hell."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'll give you a few minutes to process that."
Ron didn't answer, still staring at the door as if expecting Harry and Ginny to reappear at any moment and confirm or deny everything.
…..
Harry and Ginny made their way toward the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy, each trying to ignore the fact that their shoulders were still pressed together beneath the Cloak. Ginny was still grinning at the thrill of sneaking out, enjoying the closeness, and the way Harry smelled in the confined space.
Arriving at the seventh floor was surprisingly anticlimactic. The door to the Room of Requirement was safely hidden. Harry paced back and forth along the corridor, tugging Ginny along with him, but the door didn't show itself. They lingered near the portrait of Barnabas with the dancing trolls, looking expectantly at the empty space where the door would normally appear.
"Now what?" Ginny asked, her voice filled with quiet amusement.
"Now, we wait," Harry muttered, disappointed. "This was really stupid of me. Who knows how long he might stay? Maybe we should just head back?"
Ginny wasn't ready for their adventure to end just yet.
"No," she said quickly, shaking her head. "Let's just wait. We can catch him in the act. It's Saturday, and we don't have anything to get up for tomorrow." She grinned, eyes bright. "Maybe we'll get lucky and sneak in the room while he's leaving."
Harry gave her a smile of relief, grateful for her determination. "Okay, let's."
Time passed slowly as they stood in silence, the tension between them growing. Not wanting to risk being caught by Malfoy or Filch, they remained huddled beneath the Cloak, avoiding any conversation. The wait soon became dull, and Harry's mind began to wander.
"I wish we had a bench or something," he muttered, rubbing his eyes.
Ginny chuckled softly. "Are you a wizard or what?" she teased, her voice light.
With a smirk, she drew her wand and transfigured a hair tie into a comfortable-looking chair. "There you go."
She eyed it with a mischievous grin. "Think we'll both fit under the Cloak and still stay hidden?"
They tried to squeeze onto the chair, but it was a tight fit. Harry struggled to make the Cloak cover them both, but something always peeked out. After a moment of frustration, he flicked his wand, transfiguring the chair into a single seat. In a flurry of motion, he sat down and pulled Ginny onto his lap, the Cloak quickly covering them both.
Ginny blinked in surprise, not expecting such an intimate move. She shifted slightly to sit more sideways, giving her a better view of Harry's face. She could feel his warmth, the proximity too much for her to ignore. It was all so close—his legs underneath her, the slight tension in the air.
Harry's heart was pounding. He has surprised himself with this act, and he hadn't realized how intimate the situation would be when he made the decision to sit, but now it was impossible to ignore the way Ginny's body felt against his. He just hoped Ginny stopped moving in his lap, or it could be even more embarrassing - the way she was sitting she woudn't miss if he got too… excited. His mind raced with thoughts, trying to hold onto any focus.
His thoughts spiraled—Ginny's scent was too much, her warmth too close. He quickly mentally recited potion ingredients, hoping to stop his mind from wandering. His gaze fell on her face, her cheeks flushed, and her lips were so close… too close.
"That's one way to solve the problem," Ginny said softly, her voice shaky, aware of the closeness, the tension between them. Her lips felt dry, and she had to fight the urge to lean in and kiss him again.
"Not the cleverest move, I'll admit," Harry muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "Should've asked you before I pulled you down on me like that. Sorry."
Ginny looked at him, her eyes dark and knowing. "I don't mind," she said, her voice husky. The air between them was thick with unspoken words.
Before Harry could react, they heard the unmistakable sound of the door to the Room of Requirement appearing. They both froze.
Harry quickly stood up, his heart racing. Realizing the mistake, he glanced around and noticed that the chair was still there. Malfoy would definitely notice it if he came back. His panic flared, but Ginny effortlessly transfigured the chair back into a hair tie and picked it up, looking at him with a small, teasing smile.
They quickly moved to the side of the door, pressing against the wall. They held their breath as the door creaked open. Malfoy stepped out, his eyes darting around the corridor. When he didn't see anything suspicious, he turned and hurried down the hall toward the staircase leading to the dungeons.
The door began to close behind him, and Harry, holding Ginny's hand, pulled her inside just as it clicked shut. They were in.
As the door to the Room of Requirement swung shut behind them, Harry and Ginny were hit with the overwhelming sense of space—vast, dimly lit, and filled with an endless array of forgotten objects. Piles of clutter stretched out before them in every direction, the room seemingly stretching on forever. Shelves full of dust-covered items lined the walls, ranging from mismatched furniture to forgotten trunks, ancient relics, and an assortment of oddities that Harry couldn't even begin to identify. The air was thick with the scent of old parchment, rust, and something faintly musty, like a room that hadn't been disturbed in decades.
For a moment, they stood frozen, taking it all in. It was impossible to make sense of what they were seeing, and Harry felt a wave of confusion wash over him. This room—this vast, seemingly endless collection of forgotten things—was not at all what he had expected. The space wasn't just large; it felt endless, like a place where anything could be hidden, and everything had been lost.
"This is..." Ginny started, her voice trailing off as she looked around, wide-eyed. "I didn't think... This doesn't even make sense."
Harry shook his head, his mind spinning. "No way to tell what Malfoy was doing in here. There's no way to know where he's gone—or even if he left anything behind. This place is... a mess."
Ginny swallowed, her fingers brushing against a dusty old book that sat half-buried under a pile of broken trinkets. "It's like everything... everything that's ever been hidden, forgotten, or abandoned is here."
The realization hit them both at once: they could never figure out what Malfoy had been doing in this room. It was too vast, too chaotic, and far beyond any attempt at understanding in such a short time. There were no clear answers, just endless things—hidden and forgotten, all mixed together.
Harry sat down on a battered couch near the entrance, still taking in the overwhelming sight of the cluttered room.
"Should we look around anyway?" he asked, though he knew it was pointless. They'd never find anything in this mess.
"Maybe not today," Ginny said, turning a rusty knife over in her hands, its handle wrapped in delicate chains of roses. "But I wouldn't mind coming back. There must be loads of awfully interesting stuff in here."
Harry smirked at her enthusiasm. "Yeah, let's come back later. In the meantime, we need to figure out what Malfoy's actually doing in here."
"I think I might have an idea about that," Ginny said mysteriously, setting the knife back down. "Let me sleep on it—and I'll write to the twins."
Harry raised an eyebrow at that but didn't question her. Instead, he let her pull him to his feet.
"Shall we head back?" she asked. "I'm knackered after tryouts today."
Harry smiled at the memory—Ginny had won her spot on the team fair and square, besting almost everyone who had shown up. He had no doubt she'd be a brilliant Chaser. With that thought, he swung the Cloak over them again, and together, they slipped out of the room and made their way back to Gryffindor Tower.
As they moved toward the portrait hole, Harry glanced over at her, feeling the quiet pull between them. "You're really brave, you know that?" he said quietly. "Not many people would risk getting caught just to spy on Malfoy."
Ginny gave him a teasing grin. "Just don't tell my mum," she said, but her heart warmed at the unexpected compliment."
By the time they crawled through the portrait hole, the common room was completely deserted. It was well past midnight. Harry felt like he'd already pushed his luck enough for one night—alone under the Cloak with Ginny twice in one day? He needed to stop testing fate.
"Night," he said awkwardly, stepping away from her.
Ginny gave him a small smirk, lingering at the bottom of the staircase. "Night, Harry."
He turned and quickly made his way up to the dormitory, eager to collapse into bed. But the moment he reached his four-poster, he stopped short—Ron was sprawled across his blankets, clearly having fallen asleep while waiting for him.
Harry sighed, sitting at the edge of the bed and shaking Ron's shoulder. "Oi, mate, get to your own bed."
Ron groggily opened his eyes and blinked up at him. Instead of moving, he stared at Harry, then asked in a sleepy but serious voice, "What's going on between you and my sister?"
Harry froze.
He had been expecting a tired grunt, maybe some half-asleep mumbling—not that.
"Nothing's going on," he said, a little too quickly. A moment of hesitation made him wince inwardly. He really needed to get better at lying.
Ron sat up, narrowing his eyes. "Don't lie to me." He pulled the curtains shut around them and cast Muffliato—which was really not a good sign.
Harry swallowed. "Look, I swear, nothing's going on between us."
"But you fancy her."
Harry shook his head. "I don't—"
"Come on, mate," Ron interrupted, exasperated. "You do fancy her. Everyone knows."
Harry groaned and flopped back against his pillows, covering his face with his hands. "This is a nightmare," he muttered.
Ron just folded his arms, waiting.
Harry hesitated before asking, "Who's 'everyone'?"
To his horror, Ron listed off Neville, Hermione, Luna, and—even worse—Demelza Robins.
Harry sat up so fast he nearly gave himself whiplash. "Demelza Robins knows?!"
Ron shrugged. "Yeah, don't ask me how. Maybe you were staring at Ginny too much at dinner."
Harry groaned again and dropped his head into his hands. "Fuck. Does—does Ginny know?"
Ron shrugged. "No idea. But maybe she should? I reckon she'd be thrilled to date you."
Harry's heart stuttered at the thought. Ginny—thrilled—to date him? He felt warmth spread through his chest, a ridiculous grin threatening to break out on his face.
Ron studied him for a long moment before sighing. "Well… I guess I could learn to live with it if you two did get together."
Harry turned to look at him. "Yeah?"
He felt warmth spread through his chest, a ridiculous grin threatening to break out on his face.
Then reality hit him like a Bludger to the gut.
The war. The prophecy. Voldemort.
His expression fell.
In that moment Ron responded. "Yeah. As long as you don't mess her around."
Harry let out a small chuckle, but it was hollow. He wasn't going to mess Ginny around.
He wasn't going to let himself have her at all.
"Okay," he said finally, voice empty. "Can I go to sleep now?"
Ron looked confused, but he let it go, slipping out of the bed and heading to his own.
Harry lay back, staring at the canopy, feeling drained.
What the hell was he supposed to do now?
The next morning, to Ginny's annoyance, Harry was distant again.
She huffed in frustration. She had really thought they'd made progress yesterday—only for him to retreat into his moodiness overnight.
Ginny had always been good at reading people. Once Demelza pointed out that Harry had been checking her out not in a friendly way at the start of the term, she had started noticing the signs herself. But nothing explained how he could jump from staring at her lips like he wanted to kiss her to not looking at her at all without warning.
Fine. She'd give him a few more days to get his shit together before she confronted him about it. Surely, he realized she fancied him too?
Instead of dwelling on that, she focused on something she could control—figuring out what Malfoy was doing in the endless, cluttered room. She had an idea. The twins had once mentioned a little invention of theirs that might help, but she wasn't sure if they'd be willing to share it. She wrote to them anyway, carefully choosing her words in case the letter was intercepted.
If Harry was right—if Malfoy really was a Death Eater—then even mentioning his name or tailing someone on Hogwarts grounds could have dangerous consequences if the letter ended up in the wrong hands.
While Ginny waited for a response, Harry spent the following days obsessively tracking Malfoy's movements on the Marauder's Map.
It didn't take long to confirm his suspicions—Malfoy went to the Room of Requirement every night after dinner, sometimes staying for hours before creeping back to the Slytherin dormitories late at night.
On Wednesday, Harry decided to follow him—this time alone. He really couldn't handle another moment under the Cloak with Ginny.
Three exhausting hours passed before Malfoy finally left the room. Harry was on the verge of dozing off when he startled, rushing toward the closing door—only to trip.
It was a small mistake, but it was enough.
Malfoy, already halfway down the corridor, froze. His head snapped back, his pale face tense with suspicion. He couldn't see Harry, of course, but from that night onward, he never went to the Room alone.
Now, every time Malfoy was inside, Crabbe, Goyle, or both stood guard outside.
"See?" Ginny said pointedly on Friday, staring at the Map in the common room. "This is exactly why I told you not to go spying alone!"
"And how exactly would your presence have stopped me from tripping, Ginny?" Harry snapped back.
Neville and Ron exchanged glances.
No matter how many times Harry insisted he wasn't dating Ginny, both boys fully expected that to change any day now.
Ginny's eyes flashed with fury. "I don't know what's got your knickers in a twist, Potter, but there's no need to take it out on me." She huffed and stormed out of the common room.
Luckily, the next morning was Quidditch practice—guaranteed to put Harry in a good mood, at least for a while.
Ginny had planned for this. She had received a response from the twins just yesterday, along with a small vial safely tucked into her pocket.
After practice and a delicious lunch, when everyone was still lingering in the Great Hall, Ginny decided now was the time.
She leaned toward Harry, lowering her voice. "I know how to find out what Malfoy's doing in that room, but we have to leave now."
Harry looked at her curiously but stood without hesitation, following her out. They could both feel the weight of their friends' curious stares on their backs.
"What are we doing?" Harry asked, a mischievous glint in his eyes. His mood had improved considerably, and Ginny couldn't help but smirk.
"We're going to the Room of Requirement first. I wanted to leave during lunch so we'd get there before Malfoy, in case he planned to spend the day there."
Soon, they stood inside the cluttered expanse of the hidden room once again. The door vanished behind them, leaving them undisturbed. Ginny reached into her pocket and pulled out the vial.
"This," she said, holding it up, "is basically invisible ink—improved by Fred and George for our case. If we pour it somewhere and Malfoy steps on it, it'll stay on his boots for two days. He won't know—it's, well, invisible. But later, we can use a special spell the twins created to reveal his footprints and follow exactly where he goes."
Harry's face lit up with admiration. "That's amazing, Gin! Brilliant thinking!"
Ginny grinned as she knelt, choosing the perfect spot just behind the entrance. Carefully, she poured the liquid onto the floor, making sure to cover at least a meter and a half in every direction.
At first, the wet patch was visible, but with a flick of her wand, she whispered a drying charm, and the floor looked just as it had before.
"Moment of truth," Ginny said.
She stepped into the treated area and walked around the room in small circles, even hopping about to make sure the ink spread properly. Then, she waved her wand again.
"Inkus glowus."
The floor in front of the door shone brightly, illuminating every single step she had taken.
Harry burst into laughter.
Ginny smirked. "Shut it, Potter. I didn't come up with the spells, the twins did."
"Of course they did." He shook his head, still grinning.
"Inkus noglowus," Ginny muttered, and the glowing footprints disappeared.
Harry gave her an approving look. "So… shall we look around while we're here?"
"Absolutely," she said, only pausing to clean her shoes with a quick Scourgify so they wouldn't mix her prints with Malfoy's later.
Ginny and Harry wandered deeper into the Room of Requirement, their eyes scanning the endless clutter of forgotten objects.
"Alright, Potter," Ginny said, smirking as she picked up a rusted, dented shield, "bet you five Sickles I can take you in a duel with this."
Harry scoffed. "Gin, that thing looks like it'd fall apart if you sneezed on it."
"Afraid?" she taunted, brandishing it dramatically.
Harry grinned, snatching up an old broomstick—its bristles barely hanging on—and pointing it at her like a sword. "Not in the slightest."
They clashed, laughing as Harry jabbed at Ginny's shield with exaggerated swings. Ginny deflected dramatically, staggering back with theatrical gasps. When Harry lunged too hard, his broomstick snapped in half, and Ginny nearly collapsed with laughter.
"That's what you get for underestimating me, Potter!" she cackled.
Harry rolled his eyes, tossing the broken broom aside. "Remind me never to duel you with antique cleaning equipment again."
Their exploration continued, each discovery more ridiculous than the last. Ginny found a hat that screamed insults when worn—"Your hair looks like a badly plucked phoenix!"—and Harry unearthed a bizarre device that shot purple sparks whenever he poked it.
"What do you reckon this does?" Ginny asked as she lifted a small, shimmering orb from a pile of books.
"Dunno, but I'd be careful—"
Too late. The moment she tapped it, the orb exploded in a harmless puff of pink smoke. Ginny yelped as she tripped backward, flailing for balance—and crashed straight into Harry.
They tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs, Ginny landing half on top of him. The impact knocked the breath out of Harry's lungs, and for a moment, they just lay there, wide-eyed and stunned.
Ginny could feel the rise and fall of Harry's chest beneath her, the warmth of his body seeping into hers. Her hair had fallen over both of them, a curtain of red that made the world feel small and quiet.
Harry swallowed hard, his hands still gripping her arms from the fall.
Ginny's heart pounded. She knew this feeling—this moment of suspended time where something was about to happen.
Harry's gaze flickered to her lips.
Ginny barely had time to breathe before he suddenly tensed and turned his head away.
"We should—uh—keep looking," he mumbled, gently shifting her off him as he scrambled to his feet.
Ginny sat up slowly, watching him with narrowed eyes. „Right."
Ginny pushed herself up, her playful mood vanishing as she caught the change in his demeanor.
"You know, Harry, you can't keep doing this to me," she said, her voice quieter now but firm, her eyes locking onto his.
Harry's stomach twisted uncomfortably. "Doing what to you exactly?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
Ginny folded her arms. "One minute, you're avoiding me like I've got Spattergroit, and the next, you're looking at me like you're about to kiss me." Her voice sharpened. "It's driving me mad, Harry. Want me, don't want me—either is fine. But you can't keep pulling me in just to push me away."
Harry swallowed, shifting uncomfortably. He didn't know what to say. He wanted her—Merlin, he wanted her—but how could he let himself have her? How could he put her in danger?
"So?" Ginny pressed, tilting her chin up stubbornly. "Do you want to kiss me or not?"
Harry opened his mouth but no words came. His mind was at war with itself, and his silence stretched between them like a chasm.
Ginny studied him for a moment, then exhaled sharply. "Guess that's my answer."
She turned on her heel and strode toward the door.
Harry watched her go, panic rising in his chest. He had a horrible, sinking feeling that if he let her walk away now, there'd be no fixing this.
"Gin!" he called, but she didn't stop.
He caught up with her in three long strides, reaching for her wrist. "Wait—"
Ginny turned sharply, and Harry barely had time to register the blazing look in her eyes before instinct took over.
He bowed his head to capture her lips.
It wasn't planned, it wasn't careful—it was raw, desperate, real. Ginny stiffened in surprise but then pulled back too quickly, her breath uneven as she stared at him.
Harry's chest was heaving. He knew he should say something—an apology, an explanation, anything.
But Ginny didn't give him the chance.
She surged forward, grabbing his collar and pulling him down into another kiss—one that stole the breath from his lungs.
This time, Harry didn't hesitate. He kissed her back with everything he had, his hands finding her waist and holding her tight, as if letting go would mean losing her forever.
Ginny's fingers tangled in his hair, sending a shiver down his spine as she deepened the kiss. He let out a quiet, helpless moan against her lips, and she smiled into the kiss, victorious.
For that moment, nothing else existed. No war, no prophecy, no expectations. Just this. Just her.
And Harry never wanted it to end.
After minutes—or maybe even hours; neither of them could really tell—the kiss slowed, their breaths evening out as they finally pulled apart. Harry's hands remained on Ginny's waist, while her fingers rested lightly on his shoulders. Their faces were still close, and they stared at each other, both grinning like idiots.
"Hi," Harry said, his voice slightly breathless.
Ginny let out a small, breathy laugh. "Well, hello to you too."
"That was… something," he said, still trying to catch his breath.
Ginny, equally dazed, nodded. "Yes, it certainly was." She took a small step back, and as she did, she finally noticed their surroundings—only to startle in surprise. The cluttered, chaotic Room of Hidden Things was gone.
Instead, they stood in a warm, cozy-looking living room. A crackling fire danced in a stone fireplace, casting flickering golden light across the space. A soft-looking couch and a couple of armchairs were arranged invitingly in front of it. The whole scene radiated comfort.
Harry turned in a slow circle, his eyebrows raised. "The room must have thought we required a more comfortable setting," he mused, amusement flickering across his face.
Ginny smirked. "And it was right." She plopped onto the couch, stretching her legs out in satisfaction.
Harry hesitated before sitting beside her, suddenly aware of the shift in atmosphere. His heart was still racing, but now it wasn't just from the kiss—it was because reality was creeping back in. He knew he owed her an explanation. An excuse, even. Something to justify the weeks of mixed signals, of pushing her away only to pull her back in. But how could he possibly explain it all without mentioning the prophecy?
"So…" he started, hesitantly, struggling to string together the words in his head.
Ginny tilted her head at him, studying his expression. "Is this the part where you tell me this was a terrible mistake and we should pretend it never happened?" she asked lightly, but there was something vulnerable in her eyes, just beneath the teasing.
Harry's stomach twisted. He hated that she even had to ask.
"No," he said, his voice firm. "This wasn't a mistake. Nothing about this could ever be a mistake."
Ginny's face lit up instantly. "Good answer, Potter."
"But…" He hesitated, raking a hand through his already-messy hair. "We have to be careful about this."
Ginny's smile faded just slightly, though she didn't look surprised. She had expected something like this. Harry's behavior over the last few weeks had told her that whatever was holding him back wasn't just about his feelings for her—it was something bigger.
"There are… things you don't know," he continued slowly, carefully picking his words. "And I don't know if I can tell you. But the point is, if we walk out of this room like a couple, he will know. And the moment he does, you become a target."
He didn't need to say Voldemort's name. They both knew exactly who he meant.
Ginny inhaled sharply, ready to argue—to tell him she wasn't afraid, that she could handle herself—but Harry wasn't finished.
"I know you're brave," he said, his voice suddenly urgent. "I know you're tough. And I know you're not stupid—you'd never let yourself be captured. But if there's even the smallest chance that he could get to you because of me… I won't take that risk." His voice caught slightly, but he pressed on. "I can't."
Ginny studied him carefully, taking in the way his hands were clenched into fists, the way his shoulders were drawn tight with tension. He looked utterly miserable. In his mind, he was saying goodbye to something he desperately wanted. To her.
Her heart ached for him. But at the same time, she wasn't about to let him wallow in some self-sacrificing guilt trip.
"So," she said after a moment, her voice calm. "You do want to be with me, but you think we can't be together because of some stupid noble reason?"
Harry blinked at her, caught off guard. "…Yes?"
Ginny's lips twitched. "You're overlooking an obvious solution."
Harry frowned. "I am?"
She leaned in slightly, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "We could be dating… in secret."
Harry stared at Ginny, his brain short-circuiting for a moment. Dating… in secret? The idea had never even crossed his mind. He had spent so much time convincing himself that being with her was impossible that he hadn't considered loopholes.
"That's… an interesting idea," he admitted slowly.
Ginny smirked. "I know."
"But…" He hesitated, already feeling his resolve cracking under her confident gaze. "That's not really dating, is it? We couldn't go out, we couldn't have proper dates, we'd have to sneak around—"
Ginny rolled her eyes. "You do remember that I grew up in a house with six brothers, right? Sneaking around is practically second nature to me."
Harry huffed a small laugh but quickly shook his head. "I'm serious, Ginny. You deserve more than… I dunno, stolen moments in broom cupboards. You deserve something real."
Ginny's expression softened, but she didn't back down. "And you think this wouldn't be real?"
Harry opened his mouth, then closed it, brow furrowing.
Ginny leaned in slightly, lowering her voice. "I don't need fancy dates or public declarations, Harry. That's not what I want. I want you. And if the only way to have that is in secret, then that's enough for me." She reached out, sliding her fingers through his, giving his hand a squeeze. "This is real. It would be real for us."
Harry swallowed thickly, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he should keep resisting, that he should tell her it was still too dangerous, that she deserved something better.
But she was looking at him with those bright, determined eyes, her fingers warm against his, and every ounce of logic left his body.
"Alright," he breathed. "You win."
Ginny grinned victoriously. "Obviously."
Before he could even think of a reply, she tugged on his hand, pulling him toward her. He barely had time to register what was happening before her lips were on his again.
Harry let out a startled sound that quickly turned into a pleased hum as he melted into the kiss. His arms wound around her waist, pulling her closer, while Ginny's hands tangled in his hair, making his heart stutter in the best way possible.
The kiss was heated, breathless, exhilarating.
Harry wasn't sure how long they stayed like that—time didn't seem to exist when Ginny was kissing him—but eventually, they broke apart, gasping for air.
Ginny grinned up at him, her lips slightly swollen. "See? Very real."
Harry chuckled, pressing his forehead against hers. "Yeah," he admitted, smiling. "Very very real."
And with that, he kissed her again.