New H/G from previous SIYE authors challenge - part 2
All the Time and Space You Need - Part II
by M_And
Summary: It is a few days after the Final Battle, and Harry Potter is frustrated. All he wants is some time alone with Ginny to talk things over. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Winner of "Best Overall" and "Best Use of 48 Hours" in the SIYE "48 Hours" authors challenge.
Ratings: Adult Content, not recommended for ages 13 and below.
Warnings: Death, Mild Violence, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations
Author's Notes: I had some difficulty posting this initially until I remembered there is a size limit on the journals. Shockingly, everything went fine then.
Again with the very necessary and well deserved props. I need extend my thanks and gratitude to two first-rate people who have helped me with this story. Thank you cwarbeck for all the advice and suggestions (and corrections) you made throughout the writing of this story. I really valued your input and insight. Now for Spencer Hemmingway; you’ve been with me through a number of stories now, and your good natured approach to the process of writing is greatly appreciated. The title was his inspiration. Both of these individuals are accomplished authors and talented Beta’s, and I admire and respect them both a great deal. How lucky am I?
Disclaimer: All things “Harry Potter” in this piece are the creation of JKR. Her wonderful imagination made this all possible. Everything else in this story is from my imagination, with imagination, anything is possible.
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Harry was right; his aunt and uncle’s house was the last place anyone would think to look for them. They were still in hiding from the threat of Voldemort and his Death Eaters and no one saw fit to go and get them just yet. She and Harry would have the place to themselves.
Moments after arriving at Number 4 Privet Drive, Harry summoned Kreacher to them. The ancient house elf arrived with a loud POP and shuffled over to Harry. “Yes, Master Harry, what may Kreacher do for his generous and gracious master?” he inquired in his deep, bullfrog-like voice.
“Uh, Kreacher, you remember Ginny Weasley?”
“Of course, master.” The old elf then turned and bowed somewhat stiffly to Ginny. “Greetings, Mistress Ginny.”
“Hello, Kreacher,” Ginny responded, astonished at the change in his behaviour. The last time Kreacher had greeted her, it was by calling her the daughter of blood traitors. She could see Harry smirking at her out of the corner of her eye, so she stuck her tongue out at him.
“Kreacher, we’ll be staying here tonight. Could you get pyjamas and fresh clothes for both Ginny and I? After that could you see to making us a bite of supper?” Harry asked politely.
“Of course, Master Harry,” he croaked. “Kreacher lives to serve the noble house of Potter, hero of the Wizarding world and friend to house elves.” With another loud POP! Kreacher left to carry out his mister’s bidding.
Ginny looked over at Harry. He was rubbing the back of his neck and looking a bit sheepish. “He lays it on a bit thick, doesn’t he?” she ventured.
Harry smiled back. “Yeah, just a bit. I can see I’m going to have to nip that in the bud.”
A few moments later, Kreacher was back with the clothing, and then just as quickly he disappeared again. Harry, in a very gentlemenlike manner offered her first use of the bathroom to shower and change.
The hot water sluiced all the grime off her tired body, and relaxed muscles she didn’t realize were so tense. After her shower she dried off and put on her pyjamas. As she walked out of the bathroom, Harry came out from one of the bedrooms.
“Go ahead and go on down. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”
She walked down the stairs and into the living room, amazed at the almost complete lack of dust. Even abandoned for several months, the house was cleaner than anything she was used to. In fact, it was so clean she expected to see Healers wearing St. Mungo’s robes walking about the place.
She took a seat on the couch and folded her bare feet up underneath her. She leaned back and pondered the day she had just spent with Harry.
For someone who was normally loath to speak of his feelings, not to mention his tendency to be moody, broody, and overprotective, Harry had gone out of his way to really try and share the experiences he had encountered over the past year. While many of the tales were sad or even somewhat horrifying, he had not held anything back; on the contrary, he had made sure to tell her in great detail. He had to have known some of the topics, like the Horcruxes, would have been particularly painful for her to hear, but he trusted her to be strong enough to deal with it. He simply had no idea how much she appreciated that.
The growing sense of hope that maybe, just maybe, they would be able to work things out between them made her feel almost giddy. She’d been ready to let him off the hook back in the café, but now she was glad that he had insisted. He was right, of course, even if he didn’t know what he was right about. If they’d got back together without his sharing all this with her, she was certain that the differences in their experiences would have eventually put a strain on their relationship, and she wasn’t too sure if they would have had the strength to overcome those differences. By taking her to the places that had meant something to him, and by sharing the events that had profoundly affected him, he was giving them a common reference point to work from. A place that anchored them in the storms of memories and nightmares that were sure to come. She doubted that this was a conscious decision on his part, but rather some sort of instinctual reaction to their having been apart. That actually made her feel better for some reason.
She had started to get really comfortable and cosy, and had actually started to nod off to sleep when Harry came down the stairs all freshly scrubbed clean and wearing his pyjamas as well. He gently shook her shoulder.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, are you ready to eat?”
She lazily opened her eyes and smiled. “Yeah, I’m starving.”
After a relatively simple meal of lamb stew, hot crusty bread with butter, and a couple of cold mugs of butter beer, the young couple climbed the stairs wearily and headed for bed.
Harry walked her to where she was to sleep. “I had Kreacher put clean sheets on my aunt and uncle’s bed,” he said somewhat nervously. “You should be quite comfortable in there.”
“Thanks, Harry,” she said a bit shyly. Then she rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. As she pulled away, she couldn’t help but notice the look of wonder on his face as he slowly brought his hand to his cheek where she kissed him. It made her tingle all over just watching him. “Good night, Harry,” she said warmly.
“’Night, Ginny,” he mumbled, still standing there like he’d been Stupefied.
She climbed into bed and a bone-weary tiredness soon overcame her, causing her to drift into a dark, sinister dream.
Her breath sounded raspy and came in strained pants as she struggled to stay on her hands and knees. She could feel the malevolence seething from Tom Riddle’s diary. The black leather-bound journal was mocking her, taunting her. “You’re pathetic and weak. You’re a stupid little girl, but soon you’ll be dead and your little hero too. A spectral skeletal-looking hand reached out of the diary and grabbed her shoulder, shaking her violently… She bolted out of bed at the feel of the hand on her shoulder. She was clammy and her pyjamas were damp with sweat. Her heart raced and the disorientation she felt made her thinking as laboured as her breathing.
“Ginny?” she heard a familiar masculine voice ask in concern.
“Harry?” she asked, desperately searching the dark room for him. “Is that you?” She realized that she was trembling severely.
He padded over to her and carefully pulled her stiff body to him, gently enfolding her in his arms, and slowly rubbing a hand through her dishevelled hair to comfort her.
“What are you doing in here?” she asked more sharply than she meant. “You scared me half to death.”
“I heard you screaming, and I figured you were having a nightmare of some kind,” he said a bit defensively.
She immediately regretted snapping at him. She was embarrassed and frightened, two emotions she detested feeling. “I’m sorry, Harry,” she apologized, trying to calm herself. “All the talk of Horcruxes must have got my subconscious going.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” she said a little too vehemently. Harry stiffened in response, and she again regretted her rash reaction. She did feel better now that he was with her. Maybe he could help hold the demons at bay. “Just…I mean could you…”
“Do you want me to stay with you?” he asked, understanding how she felt.
“Would you please?” she said grateful that he’d offered without making a big deal out of it.
“No problem.” He helped get her settled back in bed and covered up, and then he lay down on top of the covers. Once he was settled, she scooted over his arm and laid her head on his shoulder. He pulled her close and held her tight, warding her against further nightmares. Closing her eyes, she listened to his deep regular breathing, and faded into a blissful, sun-filled dream.
The Weasleys and Hermione were sitting around the breakfast table the next morning when the early edition of the Daily Prophet arrived by Owl Post. Ron picked it up and unfolded it.
“Bloody hell!” His epithet got the attention of everyone at the table.
Mrs. Weasley banged her spoon down on the table. “You will watch your language, Ronald Bilius Weasley! Just because you’ve been living rough the past year doesn’t give you license to use foul language! Maybe cleaning your trap with Mrs. Scowers Magical Mess Remover will purge the filth out of your mouth,” she finished, glaring at her youngest son.
Ron never flinched; he simply laid the paper down on the table.
“Bloody Hell!” Molly Weasley spat as she saw the front page.
It was a testament to their shock that none of the boys laughed at their mother’s slip. There, on the front page, were Ginny and Harry. They appeared to be standing on a sidewalk, holding one another.
“Look at the by-line, Ron!” Hermione hissed.
“Oh no!” Ron said in disgust. “Rita Skeeter!”
“The one and only,” Hermione said derisively.
“Harry will be furious when he sees this,” Ron said, skimming the article.
“It might be time for someone’s little secret to become public,” Hermione said, her bushy eyebrows crinkled in thought.
“What secret is that?” Mr. Weasley asked.
“She’s an unregistered Animagus. Her form is a beetle,” she replied
George let out a slow whistle. “That certainly explains all the scoops she seems to get. Though I have to admit, I’ve always rather thought she reminded me of a blow fly.”
“I imagine you could drop an owl to Kingsley. He’d probably very interested in this little tidbit,” Mr. Weasley suggested.
Ron and Hermione looked at each other, silly grins plastered on their faces.
“I’ll get the parchment, quill and ink if you write it,” Ron offered.
Hermione grinned evilly at him. “Deal!”
They awoke the next morning, dressed, and headed downstairs to the kitchen. To their surprise, Kreacher had prepared them a huge breakfast. There were scrambled eggs, bangers, toast and marmalade, pastries and scones, pumpkin juice, and a hot pot of tea. Harry and Ginny looked at each other with silly grins on their faces and immediately sat down to tuck in.
“Ron will be so jealous,” Ginny crowed. “Breakfast is just about his favourite meal.”
“I thought every meal was just about Ron’s favourite meal?” Harry said with a straight face.
Ginny laughed heartily in agreement.
She felt completely invigorated this morning, which was somewhat surprising given how the night started. Of course, I did end up wrapped tight in Harry’s arms for the rest of the night, didn’t I? she thought wonderingly. What would Mum have said about that? She shivered at the thought, glad her mother would never find out.
She was grateful for his presence last night and appreciated the way he took care of her without being overbearing about it. He let her decide how much assistance she needed and never forced it onto her. He let her be her, warts and all, supporting her when she wanted it. She smiled at the thought of it. The truly amazing thing was that he let her reciprocate and be there for him when he needed it. Given his past, that made her feel somewhat special.
“So, where to today?” she asked, taking a bite of sausage.
“Well, I’ve been thinking about that,” he said as he set his teacup down. “The next thing of any consequence that happened was getting caught by Snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor.” He took a bite of scone that was smeared with marmalade. “I don’t really fancy going there as it’s probably still quite dangerous.”
“Why? What happened there?” she asked, not entirely sure she wanted to know.
Harry proceeded to tell her everything that had happened from the time they had been caught, right up to their harrowing escape. She sucked in a breath as he told of Ron’s agony at hearing Hermione being tortured.
“How did you get everyone out?” She was still incredulous at learning that Luna, Dean, and Mr. Ollivander had been prisoners there for so long. As she asked the question, she noticed a deep sadness come upon him. Whatever had happened next must have been very painful to him. She watched as he pushed his plate away, and rose up out of his chair.
“If you’re done, I’ll take you to a place to answer your question,” he said, offering her his hand. She took hold of it, and Harry Apparated them away.
At The Burrow, Mrs. Weasley saw Ginny’s and Harry’s hands on the family clock move towards ‘Travelling’ yet again. “Where are those two off to now?” she wondered, exasperated at how many times she had seen those hands pointed at ‘Travelling’ during the past day. “Well, at least they’re getting an early start, whatever they’re doing,” she thought, and then went back to cleaning up the breakfast dishes.
They arrived at a place both familiar and surprising. The salty tang of sea air assaulted her nose, and the brisk breeze whipped her hair about her face. She knew that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had stayed at Bill and Fleur’s place. She begged her parents to let her come and see them, but they wouldn’t let her. That still rankled her, but she dismissed that thought as it didn’t help her understand how this connected to what happened in Malfoy Manor. Then she looked at Harry. He was just standing there, his eyes fixed on a spot behind her. She turned and followed where his eyes led, to a crude tombstone next to a small grave. The stone read simply, Here Lies Dobby, A Free Elf.
Out of the corner of her eye she watched him walk past her towards the grave. Ginny followed and joined him where the brave little house elf was buried. “Oh Harry,” she said in a hushed tone filled with sadness. “I’m so sorry.” She put her arm around him to comfort him, but felt that her gesture was completely inadequate. How many living souls had he lost to Voldemort’s maniacal vision of the world?
She heard him sniffling and looked up to see the tears running down past his glasses. He slowly sank down to his knees and Ginny joined him. “We were trapped down in the cellar,” he said quietly, almost in a whisper. “Dobby Apparated in and we asked him to take Luna, Dean, and Mr. Ollivander to your brother’s place, thinking they would be safe here.” He went on to tell her about the strange death of Pettigrew, killed by the magical hand his master had given him, all because he’d shown a brief moment of mercy. She listened in growing horror as he described the scene in the living room, with Bellatrix threatening to hand Hermione over to Greyback. His voice broke a little has he told her about Dobby charging into the middle of the fray, dropping the chandelier that caused Bellatrix to dive aside and disarming Narcissa. The commotion had provide the distraction Harry needed to disarm Draco, and for Ron to get Hermione out. As Harry was getting ready to Apparate out with the goblin and Dobby, he saw the silver blur that was Bellatrix’s knife heading towards him.
“When we got here, I figured we got out before the knife could hit, but Dobby must have stepped in front of me,” he said hoarsely. “He just stood there in shock, like he couldn’t quite believe he had a knife sticking out of his chest. I managed too catch him before he fell but...” He had to stop a moment to collect himself. “Ron and Dean helped me dig the grave. When we had finished, your brother and Fleur, Hermione, and Luna came out and joined us as we laid him in the grave.” He paused to take a deep shuddering breath, and Ginny put her hand on his back, rubbing slow soft circles on his tense shoulders. “Ron actually took off his shoes and socks and put them on Dobby, and Luna…she said…she said the words that needed saying.”
She actually wasn’t that surprised by Ron’s actions. Her brother had a heart of gold when he chose to listen to it. “Luna’s a good soul,” Ginny said, grateful for her friendship with the eccentric witch.
“One of the best,” Harry agreed. He sat back on his heels, and wiped his eyes.
“What do you know about the Deathly Hallows, Ginny?”
“The Fairy Tale?” she asked, surprised at his change of direction. “Just what was read to me from The Tales of Beedle the Bard by Mum and Dad when I was little.”
“They’re no fairy tale, Ginny,” he said seriously, “and Voldemort wanted the Elder Wand, Dumbledore’s wand.”
Ginny’s mouth hung open in complete shock. Like everyone else, she’d heard everything Harry had said to Voldemort, but hadn’t made the connection to the Hallows. Harry explained to her how Dumbledore had always wanted to unite the Hallows, in hopes of seeing his sister again. He’d managed to possess two of the three several times, but could never get them all together at once. To her amazement, Harry had somehow done it. He hadn’t said so, but she was sure of it now. He had become the master of the Elder Wand, and she was willing to be that his invisibility cloak was in fact one of the Hallows. That left the Resurrection Stone. Had he really found it?
“I was obsessed for a time with finding them all and uniting them. I thought that if I did, I might just be able to survive,” he admitted. “The more obsessed I became with them, the more obstacles seemingly got thrown in my path.” He bent over and absently clutched a handful of dirt, then dropped it. “Dobby’s death cured me of that obsession. I knew that the destruction of the Horcruxes was what mattered, not the Hallows. In the end, because I stopped wanting to find the Hallows, I was finally able to become master of all three.”
“I knew it!” she said with an overwhelming sense of pride. Harry had a knack for being involved with the incredible. He was certainly a proper child of destiny.
She saw him flash a quick smile. “Draco had disarmed Dumbledore that night on the Astronomy Tower, making him the master of the Death Stick. When I disarmed him, I became the master of it, even though I never held it. The ring Dumbledore wore on his blackened hand contained the Resurrection Stone. He left it for me in his will by placing it in the Snitch I caught in the match against Slytherin my first year. As for the cloak, it was a family heirloom.”
She whipped her head around so fast at that last bit that she hurt her neck. She was sure he was having her on, but he looked dead serious. “Family heirloom?” she asked incredulously.
“Yeah,” he said self-consciously. “It seems I’m a descendant of Ignotus Peverell.
Of all the scenarios she could have envisioned for his obtaining one of the fabled Hallows that was not one of them. Harry, related to one of the legends of a fable? She could scarcely keep up with all the twists and turns this story was taking, which made her wonder how he, Ron, and Hermione had ever coped with all of this in the first place.
She glanced up at him and saw the sorrow etched on his features. “You all right, Harry?” she asked, concerned at how much this was costing him emotionally.
Harry didn’t respond at first, but seemed to consider her question. “Yeah,” he answered eventually. “It’s kind of weird, but it helps to talk to you about all this.”
She raised a sceptical eyebrow.
He chuckled in response to her look. “I know, it’s not my normal way, but it’s…different with you. You don’t pressure me or over analyze me, you just listen, and that’s what I want most.”
She was touched by his declaration. She knew he hated it when Hermione badgered him, or when Ron placated him. Her experience in the Chamber had taught her that sometimes, you just needed to unburden yourself without fear of being judged. Her brother Bill had done that for her, and she was glad she could do that for Harry.
“I’m glad you can trust me,” she said, realizing that what he said amounted to that.
“Trust you?” He seemed surprised by her remark. He raised a hand to her cheek and cupped it so that she had to look in the depths of his verdant eyes. “I know you won’t believe it, but that’s never been an issue. There may have been times I couldn’t tell you things, but it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you.
“There are things I’m going to tell you that I’m not planning on telling Ron or Hermione, and they know almost everything. You will know everything. You will likely be the only one besides me who does. That is how much I trust you.”
Her mouth was agape. Why would he tell her everything? Unless… Her heart skipped a beat. Did he really feel that way about her? But he’d never said … She didn’t know what to think, but he certainly was doing a fine job of getting her hopes up. She only prayed that he didn’t end up crushing her.
“I don’t know what to say.” Her voice was a bit husky, and her eyes teary.
Harry pulled her close for a quick hug. “Then what say we go to the next place?”
She nodded her head in agreement and accepted Harry’s hand to help her stand. He gave her hand a brief squeeze, before she felt that now familiar, yet still uncomfortable feeling of compression.
She didn’t need but a moment to figure out where he’d brought her this time. “Harry, this is the Black Lake, and isn’t that Hogsmeade in the distance?”
“Yeah, it is,” he answered. She noticed he was scanning their surroundings, checking to be sure they were alone.
She gave him a cheeky smile. “Channeling Moody now? Constant vigilance and all that?” she said in her best imitation of Mad-Eye Moody.
He flashed a brief smile in return, but finished checking their surroundings. “You laugh, but Moody was spot on with that.”
She let it go. “So why bring me here?” she asked, her curiosity peaked.
Satisfied that they were alone, he turned his attention back to her. “We actually hatched the plan from Bill and Fleur’s to break into Gringotts. That’s where we really went next, but I don’t think the Goblins are too keen to see me at the moment, and I don’t fancy getting anywhere near them until they have a chance to settle down.”
“So the rumours were true?” she asked in amazement.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t say as I don’t know what the rumours are.” He then quickly told her of their plan to break into the Wizarding bank, and steal Hufflepuff’s Cup out of the Lestrange’s vault. He told her everything that had happened from the moment they walked up the steps to the terrifying flight on the back of the old blind dragon. She unconsciously rubbed her hands and arms when he recounted the part about the Gemino and Flagrante Curses on the vault’s contents. “As if he doesn’t have enough scars,” she thought bitterly.
“We jumped off the dragon’s back here when he flew low to get a drink of water,” he finished.
Ginny just looked at him in wonder. “I seem to remember telling you once that anything was possible if you had enough nerve. I didn’t expect you to take me quite so seriously though.”
Harry laughed at her remark. “Best advice I’ve ever gotten!” he said, impulsively hugging her.
“So what happened after you landed?”
His face sobered up immediately. “Voldemort discovered we had taken the cup, and he started to piece together what we were doing. He didn’t want to believe it at first, and went into an absolute rage. I…I saw everything. He was so angry, he killed his own Death Eaters. But during that loss of control, during those moments we were connected, I was able to discover the last Horcrux, was hidden somewhere at Hogwarts.” The intensity with how he spoke was chilling, and she could almost feel the sense of urgency they must have felt at that point.
As Harry continued on with what happened, Ginny was briefly reminded of her fourth year when they were organizing the DA. He had said then that all his achievements sounded great and fantastic when talked about later, but that most of the time, his success was a combination of luck and timely help. “That may be,” she thought admiringly, “but those only take you so far.” Though if she was honest, the bit where they Apparated into Hogsmeade and set off the Caterwauling Charm, only to be found by the one man who could get them into Hogwarts unseen was bloody fortunate indeed!
Finally, he briefly explained how Luna had suggested they look for Ravenclaw’s Diadem, how he figured out where it was likely to be, and its connection to the Grey Lady.
Ginny gave a low whistle. “That’ll be a whole new unit in History of Magic.”
“I reckon Hermione will make sure it’s a chapter in Hogwarts, A History, as well,” he added. She saw him glance at the sun. “It’s getting late. There’s still one more place to take you before calling it a day.”
She reached out her hand, and felt his rough, blistered, fingers take hers. A gut-wrenching moment later, they were standing in a clearing in the Forbidden Forest.
While she didn’t have the details, Ginny knew why he had brought her here. Her nightmares would be fuelled for months to come by what he told her next.
Harry started off by relating the grizzly death of Snape in the Shrieking Shack, and how the former professor (she refused to call him Headmaster) had given Harry his memories just before he had died. She shuddered at the forlorn expression on his face as he finished describing those memories to her, and what they had meant.
Now she understood why he could forgive her so easily about the diary and the Chamber. He hadn’t just been possessed by Voldemort’s soul; he’d been an unintentional vessel that carried it.
Her heart nearly broke at the look of despair and anguish on his face when he told her of his realization that he would have to let Voldemort kill him. That it was the only way to ensure he could be beaten.
Her chest constricted with a suppressed sob as the tears streamed down her face. How did anyone find the courage, the strength to make that walk? Yet he did, though he confessed that he’d seen her, and hoped that she would somehow figure out it was him and stop him. She vaguely remembered that moment. “If I’d have known, I would have bloody well Petrified him, then solved Voldemort’s problem for him for even considering such a stupid thing!” she thought as a wave of anger nearly made her hex him. She knew she was being irrational and unfair, but the silly bugger didn’t realize what his death would have done to her.
With that thought, her anger faded, replaced by the memory of the misery and sorrow she felt at thinking he was dead. She had been too shocked to cry then, but now the thought was more than she could bear. She sank to her knees, her arms tightly held against her body, and cried. Once the dam broke, a torrent of pent up emotions flooded out of her. She cried for all who had been lost. She cried for all the suffering of the living. She cried for the fear she had felt at living without Harry, and she cried for all the pain and agony he had been through.
When her grief and sorrow had run their course, she realized that she was being held tightly, and could feel a damp spot on her shoulder where Harry’s head lay. She hadn’t even felt him embrace her. She reached up her hand and tenderly rubbed the back of his neck, comforting him as his grief was purged.
She didn’t know how much time had passed, but eventually Harry straightened up and brought his own hands up to gently cup her face. She looked into his eyes, his beautiful green eyes, and a fierce wave of love for him washed over her. Harry suddenly gave her a rare, genuine smile as he stared back at her.
“What?” she asked self-consciously, as she wiped away her tears.
“That’s the look!” he said, clearly delighted about something.
“Come again?” she asked in confusion.
“That’s the look you gave me just before our first kiss, and…” he faltered momentarily, “that’s the last image in my mind right before he…”
Ginny’s blazing look was replaced by one of wonder. Then the meaning of his words sunk in and she threw her arms around his neck and thoroughly kissed him. It wasn’t the fumbling kiss like their first time, or the passionate one she gave him on his birthday. It was a sweet, longing kiss of two souls deeply in love that had been too long apart. When the need to breathe finally over took them, they pulled apart.
Harry then told her about going to King’s Cross in some kind of a pseudo-afterlife, and his meeting with Dumbledore. “He said I had a choice, I could come back and try to defeat Voldemort, or I could go on, and be with my parents. What decided it for me was you. I could be with you, share my future with you, if you wanted me back.”
Harry looked down, and fidgeted nervously. He had put himself out there for her to accept or reject. Ginny hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath. He looked back up, suddenly shy and uncertain. “Look Ginny, I know I probably don’t deserve a second chance, and I realize you have every right to be mad at me, but…I need you. I’m completely arse over heels in love with you, and…”
She kissed him soundly before he could finish. “I love you too, you big dope,” she said in a voice thick with emotion. “I always have.”
“Whew! That’s a relief!” Harry said, the tension obviously leaving his body. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t want me back, that I had somehow blown it.”
“Well, that’s your own fault,” she said teasingly. “If you’d let me finish a sentence when all of this started, I would have told you then that I wanted you back.”
Harry looked slightly abashed. She decided to take pity on him. “However, I am glad you shared all this with me,” she said sincerely. “It means the world to me, and I love you even more for doing it.”
He smiled and pulled her into a hug. She looked around and noticed the shadows deepening in the forest. It was getting late, and she suddenly realized she was starving. “Uh, Harry,” she said, looking up at him, “I’m sure the Forbidden Forest is a wonderful place and all, but I hear it gets a bit dodgy at night. Besides, we haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I’m hungry.”
“Me too,” he agreed. “Let’s head in for the night. I have one last place to show you tomorrow, and then it’ll be time to face your family’s wrath.”
Before she could assure him he had nothing to worry about, he had Apparated them both back to his aunt and uncle’s.
Kreacher once again fixed them a simple but filling meal of steak and kidney pie, Brussels sprouts in herbed butter, warm rolls, and chilled mugs of butter beer. After showers and some quiet time in which little talking and a lot of snogging occurred, the young couple headed up stairs for bed.
Ginny was worried about more nightmares, and stalled their goodnight as long as she could. She really wanted Harry to stay with her, but didn’t know how to ask without looking like she somehow had questionable morals.
Harry, while sometimes a bit thick, was not unobservant. “Uh, Ginny, are you a bit scared of having more nightmares?” he asked her, reading her like a book.
She bit her bottom lip nervously and nodding her head yes. A slow blush suffused her at the admission of fear.
“I can stay with you again if you like. I don’t mind,” he offered, his expression sincere. “I know how bad the dreams can get. Besides, last night was the first time in a long time I slept so soundly. I think your presence must have kept the bad dreams at bay last night. I wouldn’t mind another good night’s sleep.
“Thanks Harry,” she said gratefully, “I would like that, but we need to remember never to tell any of my family about this. They’d all have Kneazles if they found out.”
“Don’t worry, Ginny. I don’t have any desire to die a horrible death.”
The next morning saw them up early, dressed and fed and ready to head out. Harry had left instructions with Kreacher to leave no trace of the presence behind for his aunt and uncle to find, and the old house-elf scurried about the place following his master’s orders.
Harry reached for Ginny’s hand, and she felt his larger warm hand surround her smaller cool one. In a flash they were gone.
They reappeared next to a stone building in a small village. A wrought iron pole held a sign that read, “Saint Sophia’s Chapel.”
“So, this is a Muggle Church,” she said quietly, her curiosity building as to where they were. Harry tugged on her hand and she followed him towards a graveyard behind the chapel. He showed her the graves of Dumbledore’s sister and his storied ancestor, Ignotus Peverell. Finally, they walked up to a white marble headstone with two names engraved on it, Harry’s parents, James and Lily Potter.
Ginny felt a lump constrict her throat at seeing the legendary pair’s tombstone. They were in Godric’s Hollow. He’d brought her to see his parents. She didn’t know whether to be happy or sad.
She looked towards Harry to see what he was feeling. He didn’t seem to be upset, more resigned if anything. As if reading her thoughts, “I know they’re not really here and they’ve moved on, but it gives me some comfort to know there’s a place where I can come and still feel some small connection to them. I…I know it sounds weird, but I wanted to share this with you. Their sacrifice made me who I am.”
She was deeply touched at his gesture. “Thank you, Harry,” she said simply.
He pulled her into a hug and kissed her lightly on the lips. “You ready to head home?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she answered, though in truth, she knew that she already was home just being with him.
Arthur and Molly were having a quite early morning breakfast together. The boys and Hermione were still asleep. Out of habit, she glanced at her clock. The hands for Harry and Ginny were moving from ‘Travelling’ to ‘Home’. Arthur stood up and looked out the window hoping to see the two wayward teens. Molly joined him at the window, wrapping an affectionate arm around her husband. Off towards the orchard stood two figures. The taller of the two had unruly black hair, glasses and had his hands on the shoulders of the smaller figure. The smaller figure had long red hair that fanned out in the breeze. Her hands cupped the face of the man in front of her. They leaned forward and shared a brief kiss before touching their foreheads together.
“Everything seems to have worked out, Mollywobbles,” Arthur said, relieved that his daughter and her boyfriend had come home safely.
“Yes, Arthur,” she replied while wiping tears of happiness from her eyes, “I think everything will be alright now.”
They continued to watch as their only daughter, and the boy who they thought of as one of their own, walked hand-in-hand through the yard towards home.
Finite
by M_And
Summary: It is a few days after the Final Battle, and Harry Potter is frustrated. All he wants is some time alone with Ginny to talk things over. Desperate times call for desperate measures. Winner of "Best Overall" and "Best Use of 48 Hours" in the SIYE "48 Hours" authors challenge.
Ratings: Adult Content, not recommended for ages 13 and below.
Warnings: Death, Mild Violence, Mild Language, Mild Sexual Situations
Author's Notes: I had some difficulty posting this initially until I remembered there is a size limit on the journals. Shockingly, everything went fine then.
Again with the very necessary and well deserved props. I need extend my thanks and gratitude to two first-rate people who have helped me with this story. Thank you cwarbeck for all the advice and suggestions (and corrections) you made throughout the writing of this story. I really valued your input and insight. Now for Spencer Hemmingway; you’ve been with me through a number of stories now, and your good natured approach to the process of writing is greatly appreciated. The title was his inspiration. Both of these individuals are accomplished authors and talented Beta’s, and I admire and respect them both a great deal. How lucky am I?
Disclaimer: All things “Harry Potter” in this piece are the creation of JKR. Her wonderful imagination made this all possible. Everything else in this story is from my imagination, with imagination, anything is possible.
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Harry was right; his aunt and uncle’s house was the last place anyone would think to look for them. They were still in hiding from the threat of Voldemort and his Death Eaters and no one saw fit to go and get them just yet. She and Harry would have the place to themselves.
Moments after arriving at Number 4 Privet Drive, Harry summoned Kreacher to them. The ancient house elf arrived with a loud POP and shuffled over to Harry. “Yes, Master Harry, what may Kreacher do for his generous and gracious master?” he inquired in his deep, bullfrog-like voice.
“Uh, Kreacher, you remember Ginny Weasley?”
“Of course, master.” The old elf then turned and bowed somewhat stiffly to Ginny. “Greetings, Mistress Ginny.”
“Hello, Kreacher,” Ginny responded, astonished at the change in his behaviour. The last time Kreacher had greeted her, it was by calling her the daughter of blood traitors. She could see Harry smirking at her out of the corner of her eye, so she stuck her tongue out at him.
“Kreacher, we’ll be staying here tonight. Could you get pyjamas and fresh clothes for both Ginny and I? After that could you see to making us a bite of supper?” Harry asked politely.
“Of course, Master Harry,” he croaked. “Kreacher lives to serve the noble house of Potter, hero of the Wizarding world and friend to house elves.” With another loud POP! Kreacher left to carry out his mister’s bidding.
Ginny looked over at Harry. He was rubbing the back of his neck and looking a bit sheepish. “He lays it on a bit thick, doesn’t he?” she ventured.
Harry smiled back. “Yeah, just a bit. I can see I’m going to have to nip that in the bud.”
A few moments later, Kreacher was back with the clothing, and then just as quickly he disappeared again. Harry, in a very gentlemenlike manner offered her first use of the bathroom to shower and change.
The hot water sluiced all the grime off her tired body, and relaxed muscles she didn’t realize were so tense. After her shower she dried off and put on her pyjamas. As she walked out of the bathroom, Harry came out from one of the bedrooms.
“Go ahead and go on down. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes.”
She walked down the stairs and into the living room, amazed at the almost complete lack of dust. Even abandoned for several months, the house was cleaner than anything she was used to. In fact, it was so clean she expected to see Healers wearing St. Mungo’s robes walking about the place.
She took a seat on the couch and folded her bare feet up underneath her. She leaned back and pondered the day she had just spent with Harry.
For someone who was normally loath to speak of his feelings, not to mention his tendency to be moody, broody, and overprotective, Harry had gone out of his way to really try and share the experiences he had encountered over the past year. While many of the tales were sad or even somewhat horrifying, he had not held anything back; on the contrary, he had made sure to tell her in great detail. He had to have known some of the topics, like the Horcruxes, would have been particularly painful for her to hear, but he trusted her to be strong enough to deal with it. He simply had no idea how much she appreciated that.
The growing sense of hope that maybe, just maybe, they would be able to work things out between them made her feel almost giddy. She’d been ready to let him off the hook back in the café, but now she was glad that he had insisted. He was right, of course, even if he didn’t know what he was right about. If they’d got back together without his sharing all this with her, she was certain that the differences in their experiences would have eventually put a strain on their relationship, and she wasn’t too sure if they would have had the strength to overcome those differences. By taking her to the places that had meant something to him, and by sharing the events that had profoundly affected him, he was giving them a common reference point to work from. A place that anchored them in the storms of memories and nightmares that were sure to come. She doubted that this was a conscious decision on his part, but rather some sort of instinctual reaction to their having been apart. That actually made her feel better for some reason.
She had started to get really comfortable and cosy, and had actually started to nod off to sleep when Harry came down the stairs all freshly scrubbed clean and wearing his pyjamas as well. He gently shook her shoulder.
“Hey, Sleeping Beauty, are you ready to eat?”
She lazily opened her eyes and smiled. “Yeah, I’m starving.”
After a relatively simple meal of lamb stew, hot crusty bread with butter, and a couple of cold mugs of butter beer, the young couple climbed the stairs wearily and headed for bed.
Harry walked her to where she was to sleep. “I had Kreacher put clean sheets on my aunt and uncle’s bed,” he said somewhat nervously. “You should be quite comfortable in there.”
“Thanks, Harry,” she said a bit shyly. Then she rose up on her toes and kissed his cheek. As she pulled away, she couldn’t help but notice the look of wonder on his face as he slowly brought his hand to his cheek where she kissed him. It made her tingle all over just watching him. “Good night, Harry,” she said warmly.
“’Night, Ginny,” he mumbled, still standing there like he’d been Stupefied.
She climbed into bed and a bone-weary tiredness soon overcame her, causing her to drift into a dark, sinister dream.
Her breath sounded raspy and came in strained pants as she struggled to stay on her hands and knees. She could feel the malevolence seething from Tom Riddle’s diary. The black leather-bound journal was mocking her, taunting her. “You’re pathetic and weak. You’re a stupid little girl, but soon you’ll be dead and your little hero too. A spectral skeletal-looking hand reached out of the diary and grabbed her shoulder, shaking her violently… She bolted out of bed at the feel of the hand on her shoulder. She was clammy and her pyjamas were damp with sweat. Her heart raced and the disorientation she felt made her thinking as laboured as her breathing.
“Ginny?” she heard a familiar masculine voice ask in concern.
“Harry?” she asked, desperately searching the dark room for him. “Is that you?” She realized that she was trembling severely.
He padded over to her and carefully pulled her stiff body to him, gently enfolding her in his arms, and slowly rubbing a hand through her dishevelled hair to comfort her.
“What are you doing in here?” she asked more sharply than she meant. “You scared me half to death.”
“I heard you screaming, and I figured you were having a nightmare of some kind,” he said a bit defensively.
She immediately regretted snapping at him. She was embarrassed and frightened, two emotions she detested feeling. “I’m sorry, Harry,” she apologized, trying to calm herself. “All the talk of Horcruxes must have got my subconscious going.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No,” she said a little too vehemently. Harry stiffened in response, and she again regretted her rash reaction. She did feel better now that he was with her. Maybe he could help hold the demons at bay. “Just…I mean could you…”
“Do you want me to stay with you?” he asked, understanding how she felt.
“Would you please?” she said grateful that he’d offered without making a big deal out of it.
“No problem.” He helped get her settled back in bed and covered up, and then he lay down on top of the covers. Once he was settled, she scooted over his arm and laid her head on his shoulder. He pulled her close and held her tight, warding her against further nightmares. Closing her eyes, she listened to his deep regular breathing, and faded into a blissful, sun-filled dream.
The Weasleys and Hermione were sitting around the breakfast table the next morning when the early edition of the Daily Prophet arrived by Owl Post. Ron picked it up and unfolded it.
“Bloody hell!” His epithet got the attention of everyone at the table.
Mrs. Weasley banged her spoon down on the table. “You will watch your language, Ronald Bilius Weasley! Just because you’ve been living rough the past year doesn’t give you license to use foul language! Maybe cleaning your trap with Mrs. Scowers Magical Mess Remover will purge the filth out of your mouth,” she finished, glaring at her youngest son.
Ron never flinched; he simply laid the paper down on the table.
“Bloody Hell!” Molly Weasley spat as she saw the front page.
It was a testament to their shock that none of the boys laughed at their mother’s slip. There, on the front page, were Ginny and Harry. They appeared to be standing on a sidewalk, holding one another.
“Look at the by-line, Ron!” Hermione hissed.
“Oh no!” Ron said in disgust. “Rita Skeeter!”
“The one and only,” Hermione said derisively.
“Harry will be furious when he sees this,” Ron said, skimming the article.
“It might be time for someone’s little secret to become public,” Hermione said, her bushy eyebrows crinkled in thought.
“What secret is that?” Mr. Weasley asked.
“She’s an unregistered Animagus. Her form is a beetle,” she replied
George let out a slow whistle. “That certainly explains all the scoops she seems to get. Though I have to admit, I’ve always rather thought she reminded me of a blow fly.”
“I imagine you could drop an owl to Kingsley. He’d probably very interested in this little tidbit,” Mr. Weasley suggested.
Ron and Hermione looked at each other, silly grins plastered on their faces.
“I’ll get the parchment, quill and ink if you write it,” Ron offered.
Hermione grinned evilly at him. “Deal!”
They awoke the next morning, dressed, and headed downstairs to the kitchen. To their surprise, Kreacher had prepared them a huge breakfast. There were scrambled eggs, bangers, toast and marmalade, pastries and scones, pumpkin juice, and a hot pot of tea. Harry and Ginny looked at each other with silly grins on their faces and immediately sat down to tuck in.
“Ron will be so jealous,” Ginny crowed. “Breakfast is just about his favourite meal.”
“I thought every meal was just about Ron’s favourite meal?” Harry said with a straight face.
Ginny laughed heartily in agreement.
She felt completely invigorated this morning, which was somewhat surprising given how the night started. Of course, I did end up wrapped tight in Harry’s arms for the rest of the night, didn’t I? she thought wonderingly. What would Mum have said about that? She shivered at the thought, glad her mother would never find out.
She was grateful for his presence last night and appreciated the way he took care of her without being overbearing about it. He let her decide how much assistance she needed and never forced it onto her. He let her be her, warts and all, supporting her when she wanted it. She smiled at the thought of it. The truly amazing thing was that he let her reciprocate and be there for him when he needed it. Given his past, that made her feel somewhat special.
“So, where to today?” she asked, taking a bite of sausage.
“Well, I’ve been thinking about that,” he said as he set his teacup down. “The next thing of any consequence that happened was getting caught by Snatchers and taken to Malfoy Manor.” He took a bite of scone that was smeared with marmalade. “I don’t really fancy going there as it’s probably still quite dangerous.”
“Why? What happened there?” she asked, not entirely sure she wanted to know.
Harry proceeded to tell her everything that had happened from the time they had been caught, right up to their harrowing escape. She sucked in a breath as he told of Ron’s agony at hearing Hermione being tortured.
“How did you get everyone out?” She was still incredulous at learning that Luna, Dean, and Mr. Ollivander had been prisoners there for so long. As she asked the question, she noticed a deep sadness come upon him. Whatever had happened next must have been very painful to him. She watched as he pushed his plate away, and rose up out of his chair.
“If you’re done, I’ll take you to a place to answer your question,” he said, offering her his hand. She took hold of it, and Harry Apparated them away.
At The Burrow, Mrs. Weasley saw Ginny’s and Harry’s hands on the family clock move towards ‘Travelling’ yet again. “Where are those two off to now?” she wondered, exasperated at how many times she had seen those hands pointed at ‘Travelling’ during the past day. “Well, at least they’re getting an early start, whatever they’re doing,” she thought, and then went back to cleaning up the breakfast dishes.
They arrived at a place both familiar and surprising. The salty tang of sea air assaulted her nose, and the brisk breeze whipped her hair about her face. She knew that Harry, Ron, and Hermione had stayed at Bill and Fleur’s place. She begged her parents to let her come and see them, but they wouldn’t let her. That still rankled her, but she dismissed that thought as it didn’t help her understand how this connected to what happened in Malfoy Manor. Then she looked at Harry. He was just standing there, his eyes fixed on a spot behind her. She turned and followed where his eyes led, to a crude tombstone next to a small grave. The stone read simply, Here Lies Dobby, A Free Elf.
Out of the corner of her eye she watched him walk past her towards the grave. Ginny followed and joined him where the brave little house elf was buried. “Oh Harry,” she said in a hushed tone filled with sadness. “I’m so sorry.” She put her arm around him to comfort him, but felt that her gesture was completely inadequate. How many living souls had he lost to Voldemort’s maniacal vision of the world?
She heard him sniffling and looked up to see the tears running down past his glasses. He slowly sank down to his knees and Ginny joined him. “We were trapped down in the cellar,” he said quietly, almost in a whisper. “Dobby Apparated in and we asked him to take Luna, Dean, and Mr. Ollivander to your brother’s place, thinking they would be safe here.” He went on to tell her about the strange death of Pettigrew, killed by the magical hand his master had given him, all because he’d shown a brief moment of mercy. She listened in growing horror as he described the scene in the living room, with Bellatrix threatening to hand Hermione over to Greyback. His voice broke a little has he told her about Dobby charging into the middle of the fray, dropping the chandelier that caused Bellatrix to dive aside and disarming Narcissa. The commotion had provide the distraction Harry needed to disarm Draco, and for Ron to get Hermione out. As Harry was getting ready to Apparate out with the goblin and Dobby, he saw the silver blur that was Bellatrix’s knife heading towards him.
“When we got here, I figured we got out before the knife could hit, but Dobby must have stepped in front of me,” he said hoarsely. “He just stood there in shock, like he couldn’t quite believe he had a knife sticking out of his chest. I managed too catch him before he fell but...” He had to stop a moment to collect himself. “Ron and Dean helped me dig the grave. When we had finished, your brother and Fleur, Hermione, and Luna came out and joined us as we laid him in the grave.” He paused to take a deep shuddering breath, and Ginny put her hand on his back, rubbing slow soft circles on his tense shoulders. “Ron actually took off his shoes and socks and put them on Dobby, and Luna…she said…she said the words that needed saying.”
She actually wasn’t that surprised by Ron’s actions. Her brother had a heart of gold when he chose to listen to it. “Luna’s a good soul,” Ginny said, grateful for her friendship with the eccentric witch.
“One of the best,” Harry agreed. He sat back on his heels, and wiped his eyes.
“What do you know about the Deathly Hallows, Ginny?”
“The Fairy Tale?” she asked, surprised at his change of direction. “Just what was read to me from The Tales of Beedle the Bard by Mum and Dad when I was little.”
“They’re no fairy tale, Ginny,” he said seriously, “and Voldemort wanted the Elder Wand, Dumbledore’s wand.”
Ginny’s mouth hung open in complete shock. Like everyone else, she’d heard everything Harry had said to Voldemort, but hadn’t made the connection to the Hallows. Harry explained to her how Dumbledore had always wanted to unite the Hallows, in hopes of seeing his sister again. He’d managed to possess two of the three several times, but could never get them all together at once. To her amazement, Harry had somehow done it. He hadn’t said so, but she was sure of it now. He had become the master of the Elder Wand, and she was willing to be that his invisibility cloak was in fact one of the Hallows. That left the Resurrection Stone. Had he really found it?
“I was obsessed for a time with finding them all and uniting them. I thought that if I did, I might just be able to survive,” he admitted. “The more obsessed I became with them, the more obstacles seemingly got thrown in my path.” He bent over and absently clutched a handful of dirt, then dropped it. “Dobby’s death cured me of that obsession. I knew that the destruction of the Horcruxes was what mattered, not the Hallows. In the end, because I stopped wanting to find the Hallows, I was finally able to become master of all three.”
“I knew it!” she said with an overwhelming sense of pride. Harry had a knack for being involved with the incredible. He was certainly a proper child of destiny.
She saw him flash a quick smile. “Draco had disarmed Dumbledore that night on the Astronomy Tower, making him the master of the Death Stick. When I disarmed him, I became the master of it, even though I never held it. The ring Dumbledore wore on his blackened hand contained the Resurrection Stone. He left it for me in his will by placing it in the Snitch I caught in the match against Slytherin my first year. As for the cloak, it was a family heirloom.”
She whipped her head around so fast at that last bit that she hurt her neck. She was sure he was having her on, but he looked dead serious. “Family heirloom?” she asked incredulously.
“Yeah,” he said self-consciously. “It seems I’m a descendant of Ignotus Peverell.
Of all the scenarios she could have envisioned for his obtaining one of the fabled Hallows that was not one of them. Harry, related to one of the legends of a fable? She could scarcely keep up with all the twists and turns this story was taking, which made her wonder how he, Ron, and Hermione had ever coped with all of this in the first place.
She glanced up at him and saw the sorrow etched on his features. “You all right, Harry?” she asked, concerned at how much this was costing him emotionally.
Harry didn’t respond at first, but seemed to consider her question. “Yeah,” he answered eventually. “It’s kind of weird, but it helps to talk to you about all this.”
She raised a sceptical eyebrow.
He chuckled in response to her look. “I know, it’s not my normal way, but it’s…different with you. You don’t pressure me or over analyze me, you just listen, and that’s what I want most.”
She was touched by his declaration. She knew he hated it when Hermione badgered him, or when Ron placated him. Her experience in the Chamber had taught her that sometimes, you just needed to unburden yourself without fear of being judged. Her brother Bill had done that for her, and she was glad she could do that for Harry.
“I’m glad you can trust me,” she said, realizing that what he said amounted to that.
“Trust you?” He seemed surprised by her remark. He raised a hand to her cheek and cupped it so that she had to look in the depths of his verdant eyes. “I know you won’t believe it, but that’s never been an issue. There may have been times I couldn’t tell you things, but it wasn’t because I didn’t trust you.
“There are things I’m going to tell you that I’m not planning on telling Ron or Hermione, and they know almost everything. You will know everything. You will likely be the only one besides me who does. That is how much I trust you.”
Her mouth was agape. Why would he tell her everything? Unless… Her heart skipped a beat. Did he really feel that way about her? But he’d never said … She didn’t know what to think, but he certainly was doing a fine job of getting her hopes up. She only prayed that he didn’t end up crushing her.
“I don’t know what to say.” Her voice was a bit husky, and her eyes teary.
Harry pulled her close for a quick hug. “Then what say we go to the next place?”
She nodded her head in agreement and accepted Harry’s hand to help her stand. He gave her hand a brief squeeze, before she felt that now familiar, yet still uncomfortable feeling of compression.
She didn’t need but a moment to figure out where he’d brought her this time. “Harry, this is the Black Lake, and isn’t that Hogsmeade in the distance?”
“Yeah, it is,” he answered. She noticed he was scanning their surroundings, checking to be sure they were alone.
She gave him a cheeky smile. “Channeling Moody now? Constant vigilance and all that?” she said in her best imitation of Mad-Eye Moody.
He flashed a brief smile in return, but finished checking their surroundings. “You laugh, but Moody was spot on with that.”
She let it go. “So why bring me here?” she asked, her curiosity peaked.
Satisfied that they were alone, he turned his attention back to her. “We actually hatched the plan from Bill and Fleur’s to break into Gringotts. That’s where we really went next, but I don’t think the Goblins are too keen to see me at the moment, and I don’t fancy getting anywhere near them until they have a chance to settle down.”
“So the rumours were true?” she asked in amazement.
He shrugged his shoulders. “I can’t say as I don’t know what the rumours are.” He then quickly told her of their plan to break into the Wizarding bank, and steal Hufflepuff’s Cup out of the Lestrange’s vault. He told her everything that had happened from the moment they walked up the steps to the terrifying flight on the back of the old blind dragon. She unconsciously rubbed her hands and arms when he recounted the part about the Gemino and Flagrante Curses on the vault’s contents. “As if he doesn’t have enough scars,” she thought bitterly.
“We jumped off the dragon’s back here when he flew low to get a drink of water,” he finished.
Ginny just looked at him in wonder. “I seem to remember telling you once that anything was possible if you had enough nerve. I didn’t expect you to take me quite so seriously though.”
Harry laughed at her remark. “Best advice I’ve ever gotten!” he said, impulsively hugging her.
“So what happened after you landed?”
His face sobered up immediately. “Voldemort discovered we had taken the cup, and he started to piece together what we were doing. He didn’t want to believe it at first, and went into an absolute rage. I…I saw everything. He was so angry, he killed his own Death Eaters. But during that loss of control, during those moments we were connected, I was able to discover the last Horcrux, was hidden somewhere at Hogwarts.” The intensity with how he spoke was chilling, and she could almost feel the sense of urgency they must have felt at that point.
As Harry continued on with what happened, Ginny was briefly reminded of her fourth year when they were organizing the DA. He had said then that all his achievements sounded great and fantastic when talked about later, but that most of the time, his success was a combination of luck and timely help. “That may be,” she thought admiringly, “but those only take you so far.” Though if she was honest, the bit where they Apparated into Hogsmeade and set off the Caterwauling Charm, only to be found by the one man who could get them into Hogwarts unseen was bloody fortunate indeed!
Finally, he briefly explained how Luna had suggested they look for Ravenclaw’s Diadem, how he figured out where it was likely to be, and its connection to the Grey Lady.
Ginny gave a low whistle. “That’ll be a whole new unit in History of Magic.”
“I reckon Hermione will make sure it’s a chapter in Hogwarts, A History, as well,” he added. She saw him glance at the sun. “It’s getting late. There’s still one more place to take you before calling it a day.”
She reached out her hand, and felt his rough, blistered, fingers take hers. A gut-wrenching moment later, they were standing in a clearing in the Forbidden Forest.
While she didn’t have the details, Ginny knew why he had brought her here. Her nightmares would be fuelled for months to come by what he told her next.
Harry started off by relating the grizzly death of Snape in the Shrieking Shack, and how the former professor (she refused to call him Headmaster) had given Harry his memories just before he had died. She shuddered at the forlorn expression on his face as he finished describing those memories to her, and what they had meant.
Now she understood why he could forgive her so easily about the diary and the Chamber. He hadn’t just been possessed by Voldemort’s soul; he’d been an unintentional vessel that carried it.
Her heart nearly broke at the look of despair and anguish on his face when he told her of his realization that he would have to let Voldemort kill him. That it was the only way to ensure he could be beaten.
Her chest constricted with a suppressed sob as the tears streamed down her face. How did anyone find the courage, the strength to make that walk? Yet he did, though he confessed that he’d seen her, and hoped that she would somehow figure out it was him and stop him. She vaguely remembered that moment. “If I’d have known, I would have bloody well Petrified him, then solved Voldemort’s problem for him for even considering such a stupid thing!” she thought as a wave of anger nearly made her hex him. She knew she was being irrational and unfair, but the silly bugger didn’t realize what his death would have done to her.
With that thought, her anger faded, replaced by the memory of the misery and sorrow she felt at thinking he was dead. She had been too shocked to cry then, but now the thought was more than she could bear. She sank to her knees, her arms tightly held against her body, and cried. Once the dam broke, a torrent of pent up emotions flooded out of her. She cried for all who had been lost. She cried for all the suffering of the living. She cried for the fear she had felt at living without Harry, and she cried for all the pain and agony he had been through.
When her grief and sorrow had run their course, she realized that she was being held tightly, and could feel a damp spot on her shoulder where Harry’s head lay. She hadn’t even felt him embrace her. She reached up her hand and tenderly rubbed the back of his neck, comforting him as his grief was purged.
She didn’t know how much time had passed, but eventually Harry straightened up and brought his own hands up to gently cup her face. She looked into his eyes, his beautiful green eyes, and a fierce wave of love for him washed over her. Harry suddenly gave her a rare, genuine smile as he stared back at her.
“What?” she asked self-consciously, as she wiped away her tears.
“That’s the look!” he said, clearly delighted about something.
“Come again?” she asked in confusion.
“That’s the look you gave me just before our first kiss, and…” he faltered momentarily, “that’s the last image in my mind right before he…”
Ginny’s blazing look was replaced by one of wonder. Then the meaning of his words sunk in and she threw her arms around his neck and thoroughly kissed him. It wasn’t the fumbling kiss like their first time, or the passionate one she gave him on his birthday. It was a sweet, longing kiss of two souls deeply in love that had been too long apart. When the need to breathe finally over took them, they pulled apart.
Harry then told her about going to King’s Cross in some kind of a pseudo-afterlife, and his meeting with Dumbledore. “He said I had a choice, I could come back and try to defeat Voldemort, or I could go on, and be with my parents. What decided it for me was you. I could be with you, share my future with you, if you wanted me back.”
Harry looked down, and fidgeted nervously. He had put himself out there for her to accept or reject. Ginny hadn’t even realized she was holding her breath. He looked back up, suddenly shy and uncertain. “Look Ginny, I know I probably don’t deserve a second chance, and I realize you have every right to be mad at me, but…I need you. I’m completely arse over heels in love with you, and…”
She kissed him soundly before he could finish. “I love you too, you big dope,” she said in a voice thick with emotion. “I always have.”
“Whew! That’s a relief!” Harry said, the tension obviously leaving his body. “I was so afraid you wouldn’t want me back, that I had somehow blown it.”
“Well, that’s your own fault,” she said teasingly. “If you’d let me finish a sentence when all of this started, I would have told you then that I wanted you back.”
Harry looked slightly abashed. She decided to take pity on him. “However, I am glad you shared all this with me,” she said sincerely. “It means the world to me, and I love you even more for doing it.”
He smiled and pulled her into a hug. She looked around and noticed the shadows deepening in the forest. It was getting late, and she suddenly realized she was starving. “Uh, Harry,” she said, looking up at him, “I’m sure the Forbidden Forest is a wonderful place and all, but I hear it gets a bit dodgy at night. Besides, we haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I’m hungry.”
“Me too,” he agreed. “Let’s head in for the night. I have one last place to show you tomorrow, and then it’ll be time to face your family’s wrath.”
Before she could assure him he had nothing to worry about, he had Apparated them both back to his aunt and uncle’s.
Kreacher once again fixed them a simple but filling meal of steak and kidney pie, Brussels sprouts in herbed butter, warm rolls, and chilled mugs of butter beer. After showers and some quiet time in which little talking and a lot of snogging occurred, the young couple headed up stairs for bed.
Ginny was worried about more nightmares, and stalled their goodnight as long as she could. She really wanted Harry to stay with her, but didn’t know how to ask without looking like she somehow had questionable morals.
Harry, while sometimes a bit thick, was not unobservant. “Uh, Ginny, are you a bit scared of having more nightmares?” he asked her, reading her like a book.
She bit her bottom lip nervously and nodding her head yes. A slow blush suffused her at the admission of fear.
“I can stay with you again if you like. I don’t mind,” he offered, his expression sincere. “I know how bad the dreams can get. Besides, last night was the first time in a long time I slept so soundly. I think your presence must have kept the bad dreams at bay last night. I wouldn’t mind another good night’s sleep.
“Thanks Harry,” she said gratefully, “I would like that, but we need to remember never to tell any of my family about this. They’d all have Kneazles if they found out.”
“Don’t worry, Ginny. I don’t have any desire to die a horrible death.”
The next morning saw them up early, dressed and fed and ready to head out. Harry had left instructions with Kreacher to leave no trace of the presence behind for his aunt and uncle to find, and the old house-elf scurried about the place following his master’s orders.
Harry reached for Ginny’s hand, and she felt his larger warm hand surround her smaller cool one. In a flash they were gone.
They reappeared next to a stone building in a small village. A wrought iron pole held a sign that read, “Saint Sophia’s Chapel.”
“So, this is a Muggle Church,” she said quietly, her curiosity building as to where they were. Harry tugged on her hand and she followed him towards a graveyard behind the chapel. He showed her the graves of Dumbledore’s sister and his storied ancestor, Ignotus Peverell. Finally, they walked up to a white marble headstone with two names engraved on it, Harry’s parents, James and Lily Potter.
Ginny felt a lump constrict her throat at seeing the legendary pair’s tombstone. They were in Godric’s Hollow. He’d brought her to see his parents. She didn’t know whether to be happy or sad.
She looked towards Harry to see what he was feeling. He didn’t seem to be upset, more resigned if anything. As if reading her thoughts, “I know they’re not really here and they’ve moved on, but it gives me some comfort to know there’s a place where I can come and still feel some small connection to them. I…I know it sounds weird, but I wanted to share this with you. Their sacrifice made me who I am.”
She was deeply touched at his gesture. “Thank you, Harry,” she said simply.
He pulled her into a hug and kissed her lightly on the lips. “You ready to head home?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she answered, though in truth, she knew that she already was home just being with him.
Arthur and Molly were having a quite early morning breakfast together. The boys and Hermione were still asleep. Out of habit, she glanced at her clock. The hands for Harry and Ginny were moving from ‘Travelling’ to ‘Home’. Arthur stood up and looked out the window hoping to see the two wayward teens. Molly joined him at the window, wrapping an affectionate arm around her husband. Off towards the orchard stood two figures. The taller of the two had unruly black hair, glasses and had his hands on the shoulders of the smaller figure. The smaller figure had long red hair that fanned out in the breeze. Her hands cupped the face of the man in front of her. They leaned forward and shared a brief kiss before touching their foreheads together.
“Everything seems to have worked out, Mollywobbles,” Arthur said, relieved that his daughter and her boyfriend had come home safely.
“Yes, Arthur,” she replied while wiping tears of happiness from her eyes, “I think everything will be alright now.”
They continued to watch as their only daughter, and the boy who they thought of as one of their own, walked hand-in-hand through the yard towards home.
Finite