Inner Demons - Chapter 59
Title:Inner Demon (sequel to Starting Over)
Chapter 59/60: Decisions
Author:
serendipity_50
Pairings H/G, R/Hr
Warnings Het sex, mild profanity, angst
Word Count this chapter about 8200
Era Post-DH Pre-Epilogue
Disclaimer The characters belong to JK Rowling. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment only.
Story Summary: elationships are hard under normal circumstances, but Harry and Ginny don’t have the luxury of living normal lives...
Chapter Summary: Harry makes a hard decision... and Ginny decides to take action.
Author's Notes: For anyone who's interested, Starting Over is now up at Archive of Our Own (AO3). I'll start posting ID there as soon as it's complete here. So, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Love you, Ash and Min!
“NO!” Ron shouted.
But Hermione already had her wand out, and the book zoomed from the bin just as Malfoy’s spell hit. She grabbed it from the air and started frantically searching through the small volume. Harry nearly collapsed in relief.
“Are you mad?” Malfoy jumped up from his chair. “The Resurrection Stone is a faery tale! A myth!”
Ron shook his head and smirked. “Didn’t you listen to anything Harry said during the final battle? By the way, where is his Invisibility Cloak?”
Hermione finally found the right page, and Ron started reading over her shoulder. Harry supposed he should be doing the same, but Hermione would tell him all about it later. Besides, watching the emotions flit across Malfoy’s face as he put the pieces together was just too entertaining.
“Hang on.” Malfoy’s voice was breathless with wonder. “No. You can’t mean… it’s not possible…”
“Problem, Malfoy?” Hermione asked, her tone the epitome of innocence. Ron barely managed to stifle a grin.
Malfoy braced his hands on the table and leaned forward. He spoke precisely, as if daring them to confirm his words. “You’re telling me that the Deathly Hallows are real. And Potter has them. All three of them.”
“Actually, no.” Hermione used her prim teacher’s voice.
“Oh,” Malfoy breathed in relief. “For a minute there-”
“He doesn’t have them anymore,” Hermione finished. Malfoy sat down in his chair… hard. “Well, he still has one,” she continued. “Or, rather, you’re keeping it safe for him until he gets back... right?” Malfoy nodded, still looking gobsmacked. Hermione’s brow furrowed. “The other two are… hidden away.”
“That bloody prick!” Malfoy huffed. “He gets everything!” Then, as if a thought had just struck him, he sprang from his chair and slammed a hand on the table. “And he stole one of them from me!”
Harry couldn’t help laughing. Malfoy had obviously forgotten that he was standing right there listening.
Hermione ignored Malfoy’s continued rant and turned in Harry’s direction. “This ritual might have some potential, Harry. Do you think we can find the Stone?”
I N T H E C L E A R I N G W H E R E I M E T V O L
Ron held up his hands. “Stop! You don’t have to spell it out, mate. We get it. That’s near…” -he gulped, looking pale beneath his freckles- “Aragog’s place, isn’t it?”
Harry sighed and stepped over to YES. He really didn’t want to ask Ron to go there, but he didn’t trust anyone else.
Shaking his head, Ron ran a hand over his face, but then threw back his shoulders with a determined look. “All right, I’ll go… but in the morning, when the sun’s up, yeah?”
Harry smiled. YES
W O N T B E A B L E T O S U M M O N I T
“Shite, that’s right. The Death Eaters couldn’t Summon the Cloak in Hogsmeade, so the Stone is probably the same,” Ron said with a grimace. “Merlin, it’s going to take forever to find it.”
A S K NARCISSA W H E R E I C A M E I N
Harry was glad they’d added the Malfoys to the list of names.
Ron nodded. “Good idea.”
“We can probably find a spell that will vanish the sticks and leaves so the Stone will be easier to find,” Hermione said.
Ron shuddered. “Can we find one that’ll work on spiders, too? Really BIG spiders?”
Harry chuckled. Ron knew the nest had been cleared by Voldemort during the final battle, but he looked as if he thought they would come back just to wait for him.
T A K E D A D S C L O A K
The relief on Ron’s face was comical. “Yeah. Right. Good idea.” He turned toward Malfoy, who’d been watching the conversation with a pout reminiscent of his first year at Hogwarts. But Harry missed that exchange because Hermione moved around the table to stand close to him.
“I said this looks promising, Harry, but I need to do a bit of research and get some things ready. We’re going to try it soon, though… in the next couple of days, if I can manage it. But even if this doesn’t work, we’ll find a way. Just, please, don’t give up hope. Promise me you won’t?”
Harry couldn’t promise. But he couldn’t say no to Hermione, either… at least not right now.
I L L T R Y
***
“Did you mean what you said?” Val asked Ginny as they left Healer Andrews’s office. “That we shouldn’t worry too much about not hearing anything yet?”
“Yes,” Ginny said, forcing confidence into her voice, then chose her words carefully so she didn’t set Val off again. “I think it means they’re working hard and just aren’t taking time to send word that nothing’s changed. I know Hermione will find us the minute she has some news.”
Val nodded, and Ginny gave a small sigh of relief. She’d begun to worry about Val. The weepy stage seemed to have passed, but she was obviously depressed and sinking fast, shutting out her friends and family, closing in on herself. Recognizing signs that hit far too close to home, Ginny had dragged Val along to her regular Monday session with the Healer. Val hadn’t said much during the discussion, but she seemed a little lighter, if still quiet. Ginny was determined not to let her sink into the abyss, no matter what.
Their footsteps echoed in the hallway, the only sound in the eerily silent building. She wasn’t usually here this late, and especially not on Mondays, but after their 260-680 loss to the Tornadoes on Saturday, Gwen had demanded the team be here at the crack of dawn, pushing Ginny’s appointment with the Healer to late in the day. As they neared the end of the corridor, Kelby levered herself up from where she’d been sitting on the floor waiting for them.
“I thought you’d gone,” Ginny said.
With a worried glance at Val, Kelby fell into step and shook her head. “I decided to stay and warn you that you’ve got a crowd waiting.”
Ginny came to an abrupt halt at the building exit; Val and Kelby stopped just behind her. Beyond the gate, under several bobbing light orbs fending off the deepening twilight, stood more than a dozen reporters, cameras and quills at the ready. Ginny readily recognized Jasper Jinks’s massive bulk, and thought she could make out familiar faces from Witch Weekly, Quidditch Quarterly, the Wizarding Wireless Network, and a number of media outlets on the Continent. The property wards kept them all about six feet from the gate, but they had the opening completely blocked. Ginny, Val, and Kelby would have to pass through the crowd to reach the point where they could Disapparate.
Ginny’s heart sank. They should’ve expected this.
She’d been relieved when Gwenog had excused them from Press Day, even if the official statement about their absence made it sound like they were being disciplined: “Weasley and Morgan will remain on the second reserve team until further notice. The Harpies’ management will make no further comment on personnel issues.”
Of course, that had only fueled the fervor for an interview. Ginny had to wonder if Gwen had done it that way to punish them; Merlin only knew what she might have said to the press if she’d made the announcement after they’d been blown away by the Tornadoes. When the match was over, Ginny and Val hadn’t even bothered to change out of their uniforms to sneak away before the rest of the team could get off the pitch.
Ginny supposed the press had been trying to find them since, but except for Flooing to their parents’s homes for Sunday visits and Apparating before dawn-earlier than the rest of the team-to the pitch for practice, they’d barely set foot out of Ginny’s flat in the past week. After their girls’s night on New Year’s Eve, they’d realized they felt better in the memory-free, family-free zone, and had just stayed. Ginny got Bill to help her adjust the wards so only the three of them could Apparate and Floo directly in and out, and only family could call (but not come) through the fireplace.
Thus, they’d avoided this kind of scene. Until now.
She heard Val’s breath hitch. Ginny ground her teeth. “Let’s go back and see if we can use Healer Andrews’s Floo.” She wasn’t even sure why they hadn’t left that way to begin with-that’s the way she usually went home. But everything seemed off kilter these days. Why should this be any different?
The trip back to the office took only a couple of minutes, but they were too late. Healers Andrews was gone, and the office was locked tight. Ginny thought about breaking in, but the Floo had probably been sealed as well, and Ginny just couldn’t abuse her Healer’s trust like that.
They returned to the exit and stood in the shadows watching the vultures flap about. Val blanched and gave a tiny whimper; she looked ready to collapse.
A memory flashed through Ginny’s mind: jostling reporters; the cobblestones of Hogsmeade hard beneath her hands and knees; thunderous, flashing chaos overhead; curling into a ball, jus knowing she was going to die.
She shuddered with fresh terror at the flashback, but would be damned if she were to go through that kind of horror again. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to let Val suffer it.
“Could we get away with glamours?” Kelby asked.
“No.” Ginny made her decision and drew her wand. “We’re not going to let those bloody vultures control our lives. Shrink your bags so you’ll have both hands free. Kelby, you hang onto Val and stay behind me. Get her past the wards and out of here quick as you can while I distract them.”
Val’s face had gone ghost-white and she trembled visibly. Ginny put a gentle hand on her chin and turned her face up. “Listen to me.” Val opened her eyes, biting her lip and drawing a soggy breath. “Hang on to Kelby with both hands. Keep your head down and concentrate only on staying on your feet until you get beyond the wards. Don’t listen to anything they say and don’t let them separate you, no matter what. Do you understand?” Val gave a hesitant, shaky nod, Ginny could see a flash of hope in her eyes. “Good. Go straight to the flat. I’ll keep them busy until you’re gone. If I’m not there in ten minutes, just… let George know.”
Kelby nodded, drawing her wand, taking care of their bags, and twining her arm through Val’s to grab her wrist. Val used her other hand to catch Kelby’s arm in a death grip. Holding her head high, Ginny led the way, walking slowly enough that Kelby and Val could follow without stumbling. Long before they were close, the shouting began.
“Ginny, what’s going on? Why are you benched?”
“Are they going to sack you?”
“Were you caught in negotiations with another team?”
“Are you pregnant?”
Val gave a small cry at this last. Ginny held out an arm to stop her and Kelby just inside the gate.
BANG! Red sparks showered the crowd.
“Enough!” Ginny said into the startled silence as she lowered her wand to point it at the nearest set of eyes. “Back off. Let us pass, and I’ll give you your bloody statement.”
Holding her wand steady and reaching back for Val’s sleeve, Ginny eased the three of them out of the gate. The reporters parted, but just barely, moving to fill in the gaps like water flowing around them. Ginny growled; this wasn’t going to work. She wasn’t taking any chances on someone grabbing hold for a Side-Along ride. Never taking her eyes from the crowd, she stepped close to murmur in Kelby’s ear. “Watch my fingers. On three.” She took a step away and held one finger by her thigh. When the third finger went out, she blasted the ground in front of her and whirled do it again behind. The reporters scattered.
When the dust settled, she breathed a sigh of relief. Kelby and Val were safely away. The shouting began again, even louder.
“Why does Val look so ill?”
“Is she preggers?”
“Is she abusing potions?”
“Why are you benched with her?”
“Are you lovers? Did you get caught?”
Ginny rolled her eyes at this last. Sure, the team might have a rule about no liaisons between players, but nobody had enforced it in decades. She raised her wand and shot sparks again.
“Quiet! I can’t give you a statement if you’re shouting.” She waited until they subsided, eyes wide, quills poised. Oh, bugger! She hadn’t really thought this through. First, she needed to deflect their interest in Val. “Leave Val alone. She’s dealing with a family crisis right now and doesn’t need you lot nosing in. Gwen was kind enough to put her in reserves until it could be resolved.”
“What about you, Ginny? Why did you get benched?” That was Jinks. Ginny really wished she could slap the smarmy bastard.
Instead, she gave him a glare to hide the fact that she was thinking fast. She couldn’t use the same excuse-it would sound too suspicious. But she couldn’t tell them the whole truth either. Taking a tiny step back, she eased out of Jinks’s reach and lifted her chin. “I got benched because I was late reporting to training without a reasonable excuse.” Then she said the one thing she knew would throw them off Val’s trail. “Because I spent the night with Harry.”
Chaos erupted. She Disapparated.
***
The next morning, Ginny winced at the Prophet’s headline: Weasley Benched for Banging Savior. The main picture, huge and above the fold, was the one from a year ago that had been magically composed from two different ones showing her, Harry, Henry, and Sally on a bench at the children’s home. At the bottom of the page was a smaller picture of her, wand drawn, with Val and Kelby edging out of the gates. In the story, Jinks expounded on every theory and scenario he could dream up based on nothing more than speculation and his imagination, but with just enough truth thrown in to make it all sound plausible.
“Well, it could’ve been worse,” she muttered.
“Ginny, why?”
Ginny looked up to meet Val’s wide eyes and shrugged. “It got them off your back.” The story didn’t mention Val, except for two lines at the very end.
“But what will Harry say? Won’t he be angry?”
Ginny looked back at the picture of the two of them smiling and talking to the children, and the answer became startlingly obvious. “No. No, he won’t be angry. He would’ve done the same thing.”
The truth of her own words filled her with wonder. She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts crowding in. During that horrible year under Snape and the Carrows, she’d done it over and over-stepped in front of a hex to keep someone else from suffering… much like she’d done for Val yesterday. Why hadn’t she seen it before?
For the first time, she fully understood Harry.
He didn’t take time to debate saving someone, he just did it… and thought about the consequences to himself later. His “saving people thing” was more than a hero complex. He didn’t do it for glory or attention. He did it because he cared… because he loved.
That was why she loved him… and would never want to change him.
She ran her fingers over his inky image with a sad smile. “He’d have done the same thing,” she murmured, more to herself than to Val. Please come back, she thought. Please come back so I can tell you how much I love you for being exactly who you are.
***
“Granger, you’ve researched this to death! It’s been a week. Just go ahead and do the bloody ritual!”
“We can’t just go ahead and do it, Malfoy. We can’t even read parts of it or properly make out all of the runes. And we haven’t found any account of it ever being used, so it’s probably only theory and could very likely destroy the Stone. That means we have one shot-ONE! We can’t take any chances that something will go wrong.”
Harry rolled his eyes. They had been at it for nearly half an hour, and as much as he loved Hermione and respected her penchant for caution, he agreed with Malfoy. All of their planning rarely worked out anyway.
“If you’re so worried about the effin’ Stone, why not just do the other ritual first? If it works, you’ll be able to keep your precious Hallow.”
“I will not sacrifice a unicorn on the off chance that that ridiculous, half-arsed bit of wishful thinking calling itself a ritual might work. And I’m not concerned about the Stone. I’m concerned about Harry and Scott. If we mess this up, we won’t have another chance, and we don’t know how it will affect them, especially given Scott’s condition.”
“You think I’m not worried about them? Potter’s saved my life more times than I can count. You really think I’d deliberately put him in danger?”
“Might I make a suggestion?” Narcissa Malfoy stepped serenely into the narrow space between Hermione’s and Malfoy’s noses. “A compromise, perhaps. Mrs. Weasley, you come with me to peruse the family library at the Manor for additional information that might have some bearing on this situation. However, if you find nothing, we proceed with the ritual tomorrow evening.”
Hermione took a step back and blinked, obviously torn between standing her ground and jumping at the opportunity to explore a blood-warded library she would never otherwise have access to. “But am I allowed?” she finally blurted. “I mean with the… I’m not even pureblood, much less a Malfoy.”
Narcissa smiled. “You will be with me. The wards will allow you in, although you must let me take from the shelves anything you wish to examine.”
Looking like a starving lioness given a choice between devouring a fresh kill and protecting her young, Hermione glanced in Harry’s direction. He jumped.
YES D O I T
After several hesitant moments, and still looking less than happy, she reluctantly followed Narcissa through the Floo.
“Merlin, how do you stand her?” Malfoy exploded when they were gone.
S H E M E A N S W E L L
Malfoy flopped back into his chair. “Maybe so, but she’s driving me mental.”
Y O U R E A L R E A D Y M E N T A L
“Stuff it, Potter.” Malfoy shook his head. “This is so weird, talking to you this way.”
T E L L M E A B O U T I T D O Y O U H A V E Y O U R C O I N
Plunging his hand into his pocket, Malfoy produced his charmed Galleon.
Good. Easier this way, Harry charmed onto his coin. It also meant no one who came in unexpectedly could see what they were discussing.
“Yeah it is,” Malfoy said out loud. “It’s more like you’re really not here.”
Harry snorted as he sent his next message. Need to ask you something.
“So ask.”
It’s a secret. Can’t tell anyone.
Malfoy quirked an eyebrow. “What? You mean you actually keep secrets from your mates? I guess all is not well within the inner circle, especially if I’m the one you’re choosing to confide in. Go on, then. I’m all ears… erm, eyes.”
Scowling at Malfoy’s almost-insult, Harry held his breath for a moment. He’d been thinking about this for days, but putting it out there for someone else made it seem… real. And he wasn’t entirely certain he could trust Malfoy with this knowledge, but he needed to know, and he could never ask Hermione.
Is it possible to AK yourself?
Malfoy’s jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. “You’re not… no, you… you’re having me on, right?”
Letting Malfoy collect himself, Harry waited a moment before asking again. Is it possible?
“Yes, it’s possible.” Malfoy seemed startled that he’d actually said that, but he grunted a humorless laugh and continued. “That was one of Dolohov’s favorite ways to test someone he needed to send into a situation where they might be subjected to Imperio. We lost quite a few good henchmen that way. You’d think the bastard would realize he was depleting his most loyal troops. I suppose I’m lucky he never tested his deputies.”
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. At least he knew his contingency plan might work. Although in this purgatory nothing was certain.
Malfoy sat forward, leaning his arms on the table and staring hard at the space next to the letter board, unaware that Harry had moved across the room. “But you’re not… you wouldn’t…”
Only as a last resort.
Harry waited for Malfoy to read that message before adding,
Can’t live like this forever.
Can’t leave Summers in agony forever.
Malfoy looked even paler than usual, and he sounded shaken to his core. “You mean you’d actually… you’d do that… off your friend and then yourself if this ritual doesn’t work?”
That reaction surprised Harry. He’d asked Malfoy instead of Hermione because Malfoy would sneer and throw an insult, not take it personally.
Maybe not right away.
Might not work anyway.
“But why? Why would you even think of doing that?”
Why wouldn’t I?
Everyone needs to move on.
Malfoy shoved himself to his feet, suddenly furious. “Oh, so that’s it. Noble Potter, sacrificing himself again for the greater good.” His sneer left no doubt that he thought it was anything but good. “Only this time, you’d be taking someone down with you. Defeating the Dark Lord makes you a god, now, does it? Gives you the power over life and death? Doesn’t Summers get a choice? How do you think he-or his wife-might feel about that? Or maybe you’re just scared. Maybe you used up all that vaunted Gryffindor courage and now you’re just looking for the easy way out.”
Harry was too stunned to come up with a quick reply. But that didn’t stop Malfoy.
“And how do you think the Weasel and the Mu-Granger are going to feel? They’ve given up their whole lives to follow you, and now you’re just going to thumb your nose and walk away? You really are an arrogant, self-serving prick, aren’t you?”
Harry’s anger kicked in, along with desperate frustration that he couldn’t punch Malfoy in the nose.
They’re the reason I’d do it!
Malfoy glanced at his coin and scoffed. “Oh, and I suppose you’d be doing it for the Weaslette’s sake as well? Freeing her to move on, find someone else, all that rot? SHE LOVES YOU, YOU BLOODY PRICK! They ALL love you! Don’t you know what it means to have that? Friends, family, a lover? How can you just throw that all away without giving them the chance to save you?”
I’m not doing it today!
“No, but you’re going to give them only one chance? I always knew you were an idiot, Potter, but this really snags the Snitch.”
Chest heaving with impotent rage, Harry stared at Malfoy, wishing he could hex him to hell and back. But after a moment, an unnatural calm swept over him. He’d got what he wanted. What did he care what Malfoy thought? The important thing was his silence.
You promised you won’t tell.
Malfoy stared at the coin a moment, then looked up, one eyebrow raised. “I don’t remember making such a promise.”
Promise now. It’ll only upset them.
That’s the reason I asked you instead of Hermione.
Closing his eyes and rubbing a hand over them, Malfoy sighed. “You’re a right bastard, you know that? Yeah, I’ll keep quiet. On one condition.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t going to like this.
What?
“You give Granger as much time as she needs to try and reverse this curse-until she’s ready to give up.”
Malfoy was either completely sincere or the best actor Harry had ever seen. This newfound concern was as puzzling as it was… touching? Harry laughed out loud-he never thought he’d use that word about Malfoy. Of course, they’d been through a lot together since their school years-they’d pulled each other’s arses out of the literal and figurative fire several times, in spite of not really liking one another-but Malfoy was no doubt still looking out for his own arse… and maybe his mother’s.
And he was insane if he thought Hermione would ever give up. But the fact that it was Malfoy defending his friends and family-especially Ron and Hermione-was just too hard to ignore. Maybe one chance wasn’t enough. Of course, Harry knew no one could stop him if he decided to go ahead with his plan, but what did it matter if he did it this week or a year from now? Besides, Malfoy’s “one condition” felt almost like a dare, and when had Harry ever walked away from one of those? Yeah, he could accept the challenge, especially if it would insure Malfoy’s silence.
Fine. I’ll give her more time, but you never, ever tell ANYONE about this.
Malfoy slumped back into his chair. “Done.”
Was that relief on his face? It was gone so quickly, Harry would never be sure. But one thing he did know-he might now have a way out, if all else failed.
***
Ignoring the gawking stares following her, Ginny strode through the halls of St. Mungo’s as quickly as she could without running. She wouldn’t normally parade in public in her uniform like this, but Gwen had refused to let her leave the match early and the rest of the family would already be here.
Pushing open the door, she saw them gathered at the far end of the six-bed ward. As she tiptoed past a sleeping woman and two smaller gaping family groups, the crowd of redheads shifted. She could see Fleur, exhausted but glowing (looking nothing like the banshee from Tuesday’s Howler), holding court with a wide-eyed, thumb-sucking Victoire cradled at her side.
“Gin! You made it!” Bill was beaming next to Ron, who was cooing at the bundle in Hermione’s arms.
Ron and Hermione… Ginny’s stomach went into freefall. She hadn’t seen them in more than a week and the last owl she’d got was two days ago. Her brain had only a second to register the significance of their presence before Bill had scooped up the bundle of blankets and, with a proud smile, laid it gently in her arms.
“Meet your new niece, Dominique.”
Two bright blue eyes gazed curiously over cherubic cheeks, and rosebud lips puckered as if to grant a kiss. Ginny ran gentle fingers through the strawberry blonde fuzz atop the slightly misshapen head. She was beautiful, a miniature replica of her sister, the best of both her parents.
Emotions exploded in Ginny’s chest. What would it be like to hold a tiny new life from her own body… a baby with Harry’s eyes? Or would green and brown combine to make hazel? Would his dark hair cancel out her Weasley red? Would he rather have a boy or a girl? The emotions swirled into a heavy knot, making it hard to breathe. If she hadn’t taken precautions, she could be carrying a bit of Harry right now. What if she’d missed her chance? What if he…
Eyes burning, she knew she had to get out. Now!
She shoved the baby into the nearest set of arms and fled, running through the halls until she found a shadowed corner away from the hustle and bustle. Leaning against the wall, she slid to the floor, wrapped her arms around her knees, and buried her face in them. Two sets of footsteps pounded around the corner, then stopped and moved cautiously forward. Someone sank to the floor beside her and dropped an arm across her shoulders, but the silence held while she drew ragged breaths, gasping for control. She couldn’t lose it now. If she did, they might as well take her to the other end of this floor and give her the bed next to Gilderoy Lockhart’s.
After a few moments, with her emotions barely leashed, she raised her head to find Hermione’s worried eyes just inches from her own. Ron stood a couple of feet away looking equally concerned. The fact that they weren’t talking told her everything she needed to know. Her demons grew frantic with delight.
“I’m never going to see him again, am I?” Ginny whispered.
“Oh, Ginny, no, you can’t believe that.” Hermione glanced at Ron, but kept talking to Ginny. “You have to hang on. He’s alive and-”
“How do you know? How do you know he’s alive? Have you heard from him? Is he hurt? Is Scott okay? Why haven’t you brought them back?” Each question came out faster and louder than the one before as Ginny’s heart raced.
Hermione sent a desperate look at Ron. This time he pressed his lips together and shook his head a fraction. Hermione frowned and scanned the shadows, as if she expected someone to jump out of them, then turned back to Ginny. “He’s… they’re still wearing the tracking amulets. And we… we have a lead. A good one. We’re going to… we’re working on a plan-”
“Working on a plan?” Ginny’s fury flared. “You don’t have a plan yet? Hermione, it’s been nearly three bloody weeks! You don’t know any more than you did before, do you?”
“We do! We…” Hermione’s eyes met Ron’s; he shook his head more obviously this time, but she glared defiantly at him and then into the shadows. She straightened a bit and opened her mouth.
“We can’t tell you anything yet,” Ron blurted, cutting her off. “The mission is still under the Secrecy Charm.”
Ginny dropped her head to her knees again. They were hiding something, but what? Maybe they didn’t really know anything. Why else would they lie? Unless, he was… No! Ginny’s brain rejected the thought, but it came anyway: Harry was truly gone; they were just delaying the bad news. Everything in her revolted at the very idea, and she struggled to regain her equilibrium. Drawing strength from Hermione’s tight hug, Ginny shut down her demons before they could take over completely.
“You know I’d tell you, if I could,” Hermione murmured. “But please… please don’t give up hope.”
With an inelegant snort, Ginny raised her head. “What do you think is keeping me this close to sane? If I give up hope, I’ll go completely mad. But I don’t think I can hang on much longer. Please, just go and find him before I lose it altogether.”
***
“Ready, Harry?”
Harry finished applying the final layer of protective spells over Summers before tapping his coin.
Ready.
Hermione had relocated their base of operations to an empty chamber in the bowels of the Ministry vacated by the Department of Mysteries years ago. The huge space allowed plenty of room to conduct the ritual under protective wards without having to worry about rearranging or destroying the office. Now, she, Ron, and Malfoy stood at equidistant points on the outside of a carefully drawn rune circle with the Resurrection Stone hovering at the precise center overhead, directly above where Harry had laid Summers. Narcissa waited in a far corner, ready to transport Summers to St. Mungo’s and send help if anyone else was injured.
“Everyone else ready?” At Hermione’s question, Ron and Malfoy nodded and raised their wands. Harry wished he could be as confident as they looked. Hermione swished her wand to dim the torches, then pointed it toward the Resurrection Stone. “Begin!”
Like a lightning storm, the magic exploded, crackling and flashing in blinding fury. Harry crouched low over Summers, shielding him as a glittering dome descended like a cage from the Stone, closing in steadily until Harry was sure it would fry them into crisps. Time seemed to slow, seconds stretching to hours, then all of a sudden, it was over.
Lifting his head slowly, afraid of what he might find, he peered into darkness so complete he had to blink to be sure his eyes were open. Silence roared in his ears and amplified the pounding of his heart.
Plink!
The tiny noise echoed through the cavernous chamber. Four lights bloomed-wands illuminating worried faces. Harry drew what felt like his first breath in five minutes. Everyone appeared to be okay.
The torches flared… revealing the fog, thick as ever. His heart sank. He’d tried not to get his hopes up, but somehow they’d got away from him.
“It didn’t work.” Disappointment laced Hermione’s voice, but her eyes were full of fear. “Harry? Are you there? Are you all right?”
Wearily, he tapped his wand to his Galleon. Malfoy glanced down at his own coin and didn’t bother to hide the relief in his voice. “He says they’re fine.”
Hermione blew out a shuddering breath and dropped her head into her hands. “I can’t think what went wrong.”
“I told you the runes weren’t right,” Malfoy said, but the words held no heat. He seemed just as let down as the rest of them.
An inappropriate giggle bubbled up Harry’s throat. Under different circumstances, the scene would be hilarious-Hermione had come back from the hospital determined to conduct the ritual immediately, while Malfoy had done everything in his power to convince her that they needed to wait a few days and do more research first.
As Malfoy and Hermione quietly-a sure sign they were both shaken-debated the possible flaws in the ritual, Ron walked to the center of the circle and bent over to plunge his hand through Summers’s stomach. Harry had to turn his head. He knew Summers wouldn’t feel anything, but it was still unsettling.
“Stone looks all right,” Ron announced, holding the cracked, black gem up between his thumb and forefinger.
“How can you tell?” Malfoy asked. “Shouldn’t we… I don’t know… test it? Or something?”
“No!” Ron and Hermione spoke in unison with absolute conviction.
“But-”
“No, Malfoy.” Ron folded the Stone into his huge fist and went to stand next to Hermione. “It’s Harry’s, and he meant for it never to be used again to summon the dead.”
As Malfoy began to present his case, Harry’s heart swelled with pride for his friends’s staunch loyalty, even as he felt a pang of longing to see his parents again. Of course, the way things were going, he might see them sooner than he’d planned. Not today, though. He’d given his word, and this was only the first attempt. But he couldn’t help wondering whom Malfoy might want to summon. Vincent Crabbe, maybe? Surely not his Aunt Bellatrix. No, more likely Snape. That thought gave Harry pause, making him wonder if the Potions Master might have some advice for them. But then, they could always talk with his portrait. Maybe he should suggest…
“Leave it, Draco.” Narcissa’s gentle words cut off Malfoy’s rising rant. She put a hand on his shoulder and led him to the “research corner” for a hushed conversation.
When Harry turned his attention from the Malfoys back to the circle, Hermione was staring in his direction. When she took a couple of steps closer, he tensed, knowing what was coming. Trying to ignore her, he knelt and tucked Summers’s cloak around him before releasing the Body Bind and recasting the Stasis Charm.
“Harry.” Her voice was cajoling.
Standing, he strode to the letter board, wishing yet again that he’d asked for punctuation-he needed several exclamation points.
NO
She saw the word flash on the wall and scurried in his direction with Ron on her heels. “Harry, how can you say that? You saw her. I know you were there. You heard what she said. We need to tell her.”
Yes, he had been at the hospital, and it had only strengthened his resolve. Ginny couldn’t know where he was or what had happened.
T E L L H E R A N D I W I L L L E A V E
“Leave? What do you mean leave?”
Harry rolled his eyes. Hermione was smarter than that.
T A K E O F F T H E A M U L E T S A N D G O A W A Y
He felt a stab of guilt at the way her face paled, but he knew it was probably going to happen in the end, anyway. Best start preparing her now. Besides, Hermione would eventually have to convince Ginny that, with the amulet’s readings, a body wasn’t needed as proof.
B E T T E R F O R H E R T O T H I N K I M D E A D
Hermione gave a cry of distress and turned to bury her face in Ron’s chest. His auburn brows drew together over her head. “That was harsh, mate.”
S H E N E E D S T O M O V E O N
Hermione peeked over her shoulder at what he’d written, then turned to glare in his direction. “But if we don’t tell, you’ll stay until we find a way to bring you back?”
He didn’t want to make any promises he couldn’t-wouldn’t-keep. Besides, the Malfoys were following the conversation now.
F O R A W H I L E
The Galleon in his hand grew warm.
Remember your promise.
Harry sighed. None of them were going to make this easier. He tapped his coin.
Might need you to Obliviate them when the time comes.
Malfoy’s face turned a furious Gryffindor red. “The hell I will!” He stormed from the room muttering a litany of profanity and slamming the door behind him. Narcissa gave Ron and Hermione an apologetic look and hurried after him.
Wuss. We’ll talk later, Harry tapped onto his coin with a grim smile. He wasn’t sure whether to be horrified or happy that he was getting used to the idea of what he might eventually have to do.
Ron blinked. “Blimey! What did you say to him, Harry?”
H E S J U S T B E I N G M A L F O Y
Ron and Hermione frowned at each other, but Harry didn’t need them asking questions.
W H A T S N E X T
Scowl deepening, Hermione drew a heavy breath and let it back out with a huff. “I suppose we go back to the drawing board.” She set her shoulders and moved to the table to find quill and parchment. “I need to ask you some questions first.”
Harry ran his fingers under his glasses and scrubbed at his eyes. It was going to be a long night.
***
Ginny pulled the quilt more tightly around her and stared blindly out the window, oblivious to the comings and goings on the frozen street below.
Val and Kelby were gone. After the confrontation with the press at the gate, Val had taken a leave of absence from the team and moved back home with her parents. She’d said everything-including Ginny-reminded her too much of Scott. Ginny could understand that, but she hoped Val was still seeing Healer Andrews to try and ward off the depression. But Kelby would have to check on that; Val wasn’t answering Ginny’s owls any more.
Kelby had offered to stay, but Ginny had sent her home, too. No point in all of them waiting their lives away.
Even so, Val’s decision had affected Ginny more deeply than she’d let on. With nowhere to focus outside of herself, Ginny’s demons had set up housekeeping in her head and invited all their friends over to party. Finally having a Monday off wasn’t helping, either. She’d come straight home from her session with Healer Andrews and curled up in her sitting room chair with no plan to move in the near future. The afternoon stretched ahead. She should at least make herself go and visit the children, if not find a whole list of things to take her out of the flat. But she just didn’t have it in her. Keeping up a brave front for everyone else’s sake was hard work.
More than a week had passed since Ginny had seen Hermione-she and Ron hadn’t bothered to show up for lunch at the Burrow yesterday-and the last progress report on their search had come on Wednesday by owl, rather than a Floo-call.
For the millionth time, Ginny let the memory of their conversation at St. Mungo’s play slowly through her mind. She’d been so upset at the time, she hadn’t paid enough attention, but later, in the still of the night, she could see everything more clearly. Ron had said they were still under the Secrecy Charm, but Ginny was certain Hermione had been on the verge of telling something… something she wasn’t supposed to tell.
Of course, they hadn’t shown their faces since, the cowards. Ginny needed only a few minutes with Hermione to get at whatever they were hiding. Hermione wanted to tell; Ginny just knew it. But something was holding her back.
With a growl, Ginny pounded her head against the back of the chair. The waiting was hardest. Going for days and days with no word, hoping it meant only that nothing terrible had happened yet. But it went against her grain. She needed to do something… needed to know what was going on.
Maybe she should send Hermione an owl? No, that would make it too easy to avoid the truth. But Ginny couldn’t bear to wait another whole week and hope that they’d show up at the Burrow. Their appearances had become increasingly less likely as the weeks passed.
Harry would never sit back and wait like this.
Without making a conscious decision, Ginny found herself gathering her winter cloak and Disapparating. It was only when she opened her eyes and saw the red telephone box that she fully realized what she intended to do. With fresh determination, she lifted her chin and stepped inside to press the buttons-62242. Inside, she gave her name, had her wand checked, and made her way to the Auror Division, daring anyone to try and stop her.
Stepping into the hallway on Level 2 she gave the receptionist a warm smile. “Hi…” -she peered at the woman’s name tag- “Ramona. I’m Ginny Weas-”
The squeal that cut her off was ear piercing. “Ginny Weasley! Oh, my stars! It’s really you!” Ramona bounced in her seat. “Please, can I have your autograph? I’m your biggest fan! I’ve so missed you playing. Will you be off the reserves soon? I can’t wait to watch you fly again. You’re like magic in motion.”
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Ginny quickly signed an ancient copy of Quidditch Quarterly and the latest issue of Witch Weekly so Ramona would settle enough to give directions. But when she finally asked for Hermione, the answer came as a shock.
“Oh!” Ramona looked back and forth like she was checking for eavesdroppers, then leaned across the counter and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m only supposed to say that she’s not in, but you being her friend and all… Mrs. Weasley isn’t on this floor anymore. She’s working down in the Department of Mysteries now.” Ginny blinked-Hermione hadn’t said anything about a transfer. But before she could ask about it, the woman continued. “Well, not really in the Department of Mysteries, you know. She’s down the hall, I believe. At least, I’ve been instructed to forward her mail to Room 9, Level 9-easy to remember, yeah?”
Ginny leaned in with an encouraging smile and said in an undertone, “You’re so clever!”
The woman puffed with pride, then added, “No one is allowed to visit her down there. Top-secret project, you know. But I’d be happy to send a message for her to meet you in the canteen, if you’d like.”
Ginny gave an airy wave. “No, no need to bother her. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d say hello. You’ll let her know I was here, won’t you?”
“Oh, yes. Anything for you, Ginny.”
Well, at least fame was useful for something.
After stepping into the lift, Ginny gave Ramona a friendly wave and a last smile that disappeared the instant the doors closed, then pressed the button for Level 9. She’d be damned if she were going to be turned away that easily… especially now that things looked more suspicious than ever.
When the lift doors opened, Ginny peeked out to find the hallway deserted. The plain black door at the end of it brought back that frightful night of her fourth year, but she shoved away the memories. She had more important things to do right now.
Scanning the area, she saw a corridor leading off to the right that she hadn’t noticed when she was here before. Of course, she hadn’t been looking for it then, but now she walked cautiously down the long narrow passage lined with closed doors. Keeping her step light, she moved slowly, senses tuned to pick up any wards. She was surprised when she got to the end of the hall without tripping an alarm… and that the door marked #9 opened with only an Alohamora.
Quietly pushing it open a crack, she held her breath and listened. Hermione’s voice echoed from the far end of the room. Another voice-male and vaguely familiar-answered, but Ginny couldn’t make out any of their words. She debated for a moment. If she just charged in, they might scramble for a cover story and usher her back upstairs before she learned anything. But if she could sneak closer, Hermione might be angry-and in trouble-but maybe Ginny could finally find out what was going on.
Her internal debate was short. She peered through the narrow opening, turning her head one way and then the other, trying to scope out the lay of the room. It was huge, every bit as big as the Great Hall at Hogwarts, if more square. Halfway down the left wall, a fireplace crackled merrily, while evenly-spaced torches flickered all around the room in deep, floor-to-ceiling alcoves. The ones near the back gave off much more light, as if magically enhanced, which made sense, since that’s where the only furniture and occupants seemed to be.
Facing the fire, Hermione sat at a massive wooden table, scribbling madly on a parchment perched precariously atop a short stack of open books. What seemed to be hundreds more books created a barrier that hid whomever she was talking to seated at her right-Ginny could see his feet beneath the table, but nothing else that pointed to his identity. The rest of the room appeared to be completely empty.
Time to move.
With one more quick scan of the area, Ginny pushed the door open just far enough to squeeze through and shut it with the tiniest of clicks. Keeping to the shadows, she edged around the right side of the room, concentrating on keeping every movement silent as she made for the last torch alcove before the brighter lights. Once she’d settled into the slim opening (good thing she was petite), she allowed herself the tiniest of breaths before peeking around the corner-then nearly gave herself away by a squeak of surprise.
Draco Malfoy? What the hell was he doing here? And why was Hermione talking to him like he was… well, not a friend, exactly, but maybe a colleague?
And then Hermione did something completely inexplicable: she turned and asked a question to the empty space over a chart of letters and names on the floor. Ginny’s eyes grew wide and her jaw fell when an answer appeared on the wall next to the chart. She hadn’t been paying close enough attention to catch the question, but the response made no sense with the letters all run together. Ginny snapped her mouth shut and forced herself to listen more carefully.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Potter,” Malfoy drawled. “That’ll never work.”
Ginny frowned. Potter? Why would he say that when Harry obviously wasn’t in the room?
“I’m afraid he’s right, Harry. We already had to rule that out because…”
Ginny stopped listening as the pieces fell together. Harry was here. For some reason, she couldn’t see him, but he was here. Not missing. Here. She gasped for air, her lungs suddenly refusing to work.
Hermione whirled. The blood drained from her face. “Ginny! What are you doing here?” She sounded terrified.
And she bloody well should be. In an instant, Ginny’s surprise morphed into fury. Wand drawn, she stepped into the light. “Hermione Granger Weasley, you’d better start explaining right now!”
Chapter 60
Prologue
Chapter 59/60: Decisions
Author:
serendipity_50
Pairings H/G, R/Hr
Warnings Het sex, mild profanity, angst
Word Count this chapter about 8200
Era Post-DH Pre-Epilogue
Disclaimer The characters belong to JK Rowling. No money is being made from this fiction, which is presented for entertainment only.
Story Summary: elationships are hard under normal circumstances, but Harry and Ginny don’t have the luxury of living normal lives...
Chapter Summary: Harry makes a hard decision... and Ginny decides to take action.
Author's Notes: For anyone who's interested, Starting Over is now up at Archive of Our Own (AO3). I'll start posting ID there as soon as it's complete here. So, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Love you, Ash and Min!
“NO!” Ron shouted.
But Hermione already had her wand out, and the book zoomed from the bin just as Malfoy’s spell hit. She grabbed it from the air and started frantically searching through the small volume. Harry nearly collapsed in relief.
“Are you mad?” Malfoy jumped up from his chair. “The Resurrection Stone is a faery tale! A myth!”
Ron shook his head and smirked. “Didn’t you listen to anything Harry said during the final battle? By the way, where is his Invisibility Cloak?”
Hermione finally found the right page, and Ron started reading over her shoulder. Harry supposed he should be doing the same, but Hermione would tell him all about it later. Besides, watching the emotions flit across Malfoy’s face as he put the pieces together was just too entertaining.
“Hang on.” Malfoy’s voice was breathless with wonder. “No. You can’t mean… it’s not possible…”
“Problem, Malfoy?” Hermione asked, her tone the epitome of innocence. Ron barely managed to stifle a grin.
Malfoy braced his hands on the table and leaned forward. He spoke precisely, as if daring them to confirm his words. “You’re telling me that the Deathly Hallows are real. And Potter has them. All three of them.”
“Actually, no.” Hermione used her prim teacher’s voice.
“Oh,” Malfoy breathed in relief. “For a minute there-”
“He doesn’t have them anymore,” Hermione finished. Malfoy sat down in his chair… hard. “Well, he still has one,” she continued. “Or, rather, you’re keeping it safe for him until he gets back... right?” Malfoy nodded, still looking gobsmacked. Hermione’s brow furrowed. “The other two are… hidden away.”
“That bloody prick!” Malfoy huffed. “He gets everything!” Then, as if a thought had just struck him, he sprang from his chair and slammed a hand on the table. “And he stole one of them from me!”
Harry couldn’t help laughing. Malfoy had obviously forgotten that he was standing right there listening.
Hermione ignored Malfoy’s continued rant and turned in Harry’s direction. “This ritual might have some potential, Harry. Do you think we can find the Stone?”
I N T H E C L E A R I N G W H E R E I M E T V O L
Ron held up his hands. “Stop! You don’t have to spell it out, mate. We get it. That’s near…” -he gulped, looking pale beneath his freckles- “Aragog’s place, isn’t it?”
Harry sighed and stepped over to YES. He really didn’t want to ask Ron to go there, but he didn’t trust anyone else.
Shaking his head, Ron ran a hand over his face, but then threw back his shoulders with a determined look. “All right, I’ll go… but in the morning, when the sun’s up, yeah?”
Harry smiled. YES
W O N T B E A B L E T O S U M M O N I T
“Shite, that’s right. The Death Eaters couldn’t Summon the Cloak in Hogsmeade, so the Stone is probably the same,” Ron said with a grimace. “Merlin, it’s going to take forever to find it.”
A S K NARCISSA W H E R E I C A M E I N
Harry was glad they’d added the Malfoys to the list of names.
Ron nodded. “Good idea.”
“We can probably find a spell that will vanish the sticks and leaves so the Stone will be easier to find,” Hermione said.
Ron shuddered. “Can we find one that’ll work on spiders, too? Really BIG spiders?”
Harry chuckled. Ron knew the nest had been cleared by Voldemort during the final battle, but he looked as if he thought they would come back just to wait for him.
T A K E D A D S C L O A K
The relief on Ron’s face was comical. “Yeah. Right. Good idea.” He turned toward Malfoy, who’d been watching the conversation with a pout reminiscent of his first year at Hogwarts. But Harry missed that exchange because Hermione moved around the table to stand close to him.
“I said this looks promising, Harry, but I need to do a bit of research and get some things ready. We’re going to try it soon, though… in the next couple of days, if I can manage it. But even if this doesn’t work, we’ll find a way. Just, please, don’t give up hope. Promise me you won’t?”
Harry couldn’t promise. But he couldn’t say no to Hermione, either… at least not right now.
I L L T R Y
***
“Did you mean what you said?” Val asked Ginny as they left Healer Andrews’s office. “That we shouldn’t worry too much about not hearing anything yet?”
“Yes,” Ginny said, forcing confidence into her voice, then chose her words carefully so she didn’t set Val off again. “I think it means they’re working hard and just aren’t taking time to send word that nothing’s changed. I know Hermione will find us the minute she has some news.”
Val nodded, and Ginny gave a small sigh of relief. She’d begun to worry about Val. The weepy stage seemed to have passed, but she was obviously depressed and sinking fast, shutting out her friends and family, closing in on herself. Recognizing signs that hit far too close to home, Ginny had dragged Val along to her regular Monday session with the Healer. Val hadn’t said much during the discussion, but she seemed a little lighter, if still quiet. Ginny was determined not to let her sink into the abyss, no matter what.
Their footsteps echoed in the hallway, the only sound in the eerily silent building. She wasn’t usually here this late, and especially not on Mondays, but after their 260-680 loss to the Tornadoes on Saturday, Gwen had demanded the team be here at the crack of dawn, pushing Ginny’s appointment with the Healer to late in the day. As they neared the end of the corridor, Kelby levered herself up from where she’d been sitting on the floor waiting for them.
“I thought you’d gone,” Ginny said.
With a worried glance at Val, Kelby fell into step and shook her head. “I decided to stay and warn you that you’ve got a crowd waiting.”
Ginny came to an abrupt halt at the building exit; Val and Kelby stopped just behind her. Beyond the gate, under several bobbing light orbs fending off the deepening twilight, stood more than a dozen reporters, cameras and quills at the ready. Ginny readily recognized Jasper Jinks’s massive bulk, and thought she could make out familiar faces from Witch Weekly, Quidditch Quarterly, the Wizarding Wireless Network, and a number of media outlets on the Continent. The property wards kept them all about six feet from the gate, but they had the opening completely blocked. Ginny, Val, and Kelby would have to pass through the crowd to reach the point where they could Disapparate.
Ginny’s heart sank. They should’ve expected this.
She’d been relieved when Gwenog had excused them from Press Day, even if the official statement about their absence made it sound like they were being disciplined: “Weasley and Morgan will remain on the second reserve team until further notice. The Harpies’ management will make no further comment on personnel issues.”
Of course, that had only fueled the fervor for an interview. Ginny had to wonder if Gwen had done it that way to punish them; Merlin only knew what she might have said to the press if she’d made the announcement after they’d been blown away by the Tornadoes. When the match was over, Ginny and Val hadn’t even bothered to change out of their uniforms to sneak away before the rest of the team could get off the pitch.
Ginny supposed the press had been trying to find them since, but except for Flooing to their parents’s homes for Sunday visits and Apparating before dawn-earlier than the rest of the team-to the pitch for practice, they’d barely set foot out of Ginny’s flat in the past week. After their girls’s night on New Year’s Eve, they’d realized they felt better in the memory-free, family-free zone, and had just stayed. Ginny got Bill to help her adjust the wards so only the three of them could Apparate and Floo directly in and out, and only family could call (but not come) through the fireplace.
Thus, they’d avoided this kind of scene. Until now.
She heard Val’s breath hitch. Ginny ground her teeth. “Let’s go back and see if we can use Healer Andrews’s Floo.” She wasn’t even sure why they hadn’t left that way to begin with-that’s the way she usually went home. But everything seemed off kilter these days. Why should this be any different?
The trip back to the office took only a couple of minutes, but they were too late. Healers Andrews was gone, and the office was locked tight. Ginny thought about breaking in, but the Floo had probably been sealed as well, and Ginny just couldn’t abuse her Healer’s trust like that.
They returned to the exit and stood in the shadows watching the vultures flap about. Val blanched and gave a tiny whimper; she looked ready to collapse.
A memory flashed through Ginny’s mind: jostling reporters; the cobblestones of Hogsmeade hard beneath her hands and knees; thunderous, flashing chaos overhead; curling into a ball, jus knowing she was going to die.
She shuddered with fresh terror at the flashback, but would be damned if she were to go through that kind of horror again. And she sure as hell wasn’t going to let Val suffer it.
“Could we get away with glamours?” Kelby asked.
“No.” Ginny made her decision and drew her wand. “We’re not going to let those bloody vultures control our lives. Shrink your bags so you’ll have both hands free. Kelby, you hang onto Val and stay behind me. Get her past the wards and out of here quick as you can while I distract them.”
Val’s face had gone ghost-white and she trembled visibly. Ginny put a gentle hand on her chin and turned her face up. “Listen to me.” Val opened her eyes, biting her lip and drawing a soggy breath. “Hang on to Kelby with both hands. Keep your head down and concentrate only on staying on your feet until you get beyond the wards. Don’t listen to anything they say and don’t let them separate you, no matter what. Do you understand?” Val gave a hesitant, shaky nod, Ginny could see a flash of hope in her eyes. “Good. Go straight to the flat. I’ll keep them busy until you’re gone. If I’m not there in ten minutes, just… let George know.”
Kelby nodded, drawing her wand, taking care of their bags, and twining her arm through Val’s to grab her wrist. Val used her other hand to catch Kelby’s arm in a death grip. Holding her head high, Ginny led the way, walking slowly enough that Kelby and Val could follow without stumbling. Long before they were close, the shouting began.
“Ginny, what’s going on? Why are you benched?”
“Are they going to sack you?”
“Were you caught in negotiations with another team?”
“Are you pregnant?”
Val gave a small cry at this last. Ginny held out an arm to stop her and Kelby just inside the gate.
BANG! Red sparks showered the crowd.
“Enough!” Ginny said into the startled silence as she lowered her wand to point it at the nearest set of eyes. “Back off. Let us pass, and I’ll give you your bloody statement.”
Holding her wand steady and reaching back for Val’s sleeve, Ginny eased the three of them out of the gate. The reporters parted, but just barely, moving to fill in the gaps like water flowing around them. Ginny growled; this wasn’t going to work. She wasn’t taking any chances on someone grabbing hold for a Side-Along ride. Never taking her eyes from the crowd, she stepped close to murmur in Kelby’s ear. “Watch my fingers. On three.” She took a step away and held one finger by her thigh. When the third finger went out, she blasted the ground in front of her and whirled do it again behind. The reporters scattered.
When the dust settled, she breathed a sigh of relief. Kelby and Val were safely away. The shouting began again, even louder.
“Why does Val look so ill?”
“Is she preggers?”
“Is she abusing potions?”
“Why are you benched with her?”
“Are you lovers? Did you get caught?”
Ginny rolled her eyes at this last. Sure, the team might have a rule about no liaisons between players, but nobody had enforced it in decades. She raised her wand and shot sparks again.
“Quiet! I can’t give you a statement if you’re shouting.” She waited until they subsided, eyes wide, quills poised. Oh, bugger! She hadn’t really thought this through. First, she needed to deflect their interest in Val. “Leave Val alone. She’s dealing with a family crisis right now and doesn’t need you lot nosing in. Gwen was kind enough to put her in reserves until it could be resolved.”
“What about you, Ginny? Why did you get benched?” That was Jinks. Ginny really wished she could slap the smarmy bastard.
Instead, she gave him a glare to hide the fact that she was thinking fast. She couldn’t use the same excuse-it would sound too suspicious. But she couldn’t tell them the whole truth either. Taking a tiny step back, she eased out of Jinks’s reach and lifted her chin. “I got benched because I was late reporting to training without a reasonable excuse.” Then she said the one thing she knew would throw them off Val’s trail. “Because I spent the night with Harry.”
Chaos erupted. She Disapparated.
***
The next morning, Ginny winced at the Prophet’s headline: Weasley Benched for Banging Savior. The main picture, huge and above the fold, was the one from a year ago that had been magically composed from two different ones showing her, Harry, Henry, and Sally on a bench at the children’s home. At the bottom of the page was a smaller picture of her, wand drawn, with Val and Kelby edging out of the gates. In the story, Jinks expounded on every theory and scenario he could dream up based on nothing more than speculation and his imagination, but with just enough truth thrown in to make it all sound plausible.
“Well, it could’ve been worse,” she muttered.
“Ginny, why?”
Ginny looked up to meet Val’s wide eyes and shrugged. “It got them off your back.” The story didn’t mention Val, except for two lines at the very end.
“But what will Harry say? Won’t he be angry?”
Ginny looked back at the picture of the two of them smiling and talking to the children, and the answer became startlingly obvious. “No. No, he won’t be angry. He would’ve done the same thing.”
The truth of her own words filled her with wonder. She shook her head, trying to clear the thoughts crowding in. During that horrible year under Snape and the Carrows, she’d done it over and over-stepped in front of a hex to keep someone else from suffering… much like she’d done for Val yesterday. Why hadn’t she seen it before?
For the first time, she fully understood Harry.
He didn’t take time to debate saving someone, he just did it… and thought about the consequences to himself later. His “saving people thing” was more than a hero complex. He didn’t do it for glory or attention. He did it because he cared… because he loved.
That was why she loved him… and would never want to change him.
She ran her fingers over his inky image with a sad smile. “He’d have done the same thing,” she murmured, more to herself than to Val. Please come back, she thought. Please come back so I can tell you how much I love you for being exactly who you are.
***
“Granger, you’ve researched this to death! It’s been a week. Just go ahead and do the bloody ritual!”
“We can’t just go ahead and do it, Malfoy. We can’t even read parts of it or properly make out all of the runes. And we haven’t found any account of it ever being used, so it’s probably only theory and could very likely destroy the Stone. That means we have one shot-ONE! We can’t take any chances that something will go wrong.”
Harry rolled his eyes. They had been at it for nearly half an hour, and as much as he loved Hermione and respected her penchant for caution, he agreed with Malfoy. All of their planning rarely worked out anyway.
“If you’re so worried about the effin’ Stone, why not just do the other ritual first? If it works, you’ll be able to keep your precious Hallow.”
“I will not sacrifice a unicorn on the off chance that that ridiculous, half-arsed bit of wishful thinking calling itself a ritual might work. And I’m not concerned about the Stone. I’m concerned about Harry and Scott. If we mess this up, we won’t have another chance, and we don’t know how it will affect them, especially given Scott’s condition.”
“You think I’m not worried about them? Potter’s saved my life more times than I can count. You really think I’d deliberately put him in danger?”
“Might I make a suggestion?” Narcissa Malfoy stepped serenely into the narrow space between Hermione’s and Malfoy’s noses. “A compromise, perhaps. Mrs. Weasley, you come with me to peruse the family library at the Manor for additional information that might have some bearing on this situation. However, if you find nothing, we proceed with the ritual tomorrow evening.”
Hermione took a step back and blinked, obviously torn between standing her ground and jumping at the opportunity to explore a blood-warded library she would never otherwise have access to. “But am I allowed?” she finally blurted. “I mean with the… I’m not even pureblood, much less a Malfoy.”
Narcissa smiled. “You will be with me. The wards will allow you in, although you must let me take from the shelves anything you wish to examine.”
Looking like a starving lioness given a choice between devouring a fresh kill and protecting her young, Hermione glanced in Harry’s direction. He jumped.
YES D O I T
After several hesitant moments, and still looking less than happy, she reluctantly followed Narcissa through the Floo.
“Merlin, how do you stand her?” Malfoy exploded when they were gone.
S H E M E A N S W E L L
Malfoy flopped back into his chair. “Maybe so, but she’s driving me mental.”
Y O U R E A L R E A D Y M E N T A L
“Stuff it, Potter.” Malfoy shook his head. “This is so weird, talking to you this way.”
T E L L M E A B O U T I T D O Y O U H A V E Y O U R C O I N
Plunging his hand into his pocket, Malfoy produced his charmed Galleon.
Good. Easier this way, Harry charmed onto his coin. It also meant no one who came in unexpectedly could see what they were discussing.
“Yeah it is,” Malfoy said out loud. “It’s more like you’re really not here.”
Harry snorted as he sent his next message. Need to ask you something.
“So ask.”
It’s a secret. Can’t tell anyone.
Malfoy quirked an eyebrow. “What? You mean you actually keep secrets from your mates? I guess all is not well within the inner circle, especially if I’m the one you’re choosing to confide in. Go on, then. I’m all ears… erm, eyes.”
Scowling at Malfoy’s almost-insult, Harry held his breath for a moment. He’d been thinking about this for days, but putting it out there for someone else made it seem… real. And he wasn’t entirely certain he could trust Malfoy with this knowledge, but he needed to know, and he could never ask Hermione.
Is it possible to AK yourself?
Malfoy’s jaw dropped and his eyes went wide. “You’re not… no, you… you’re having me on, right?”
Letting Malfoy collect himself, Harry waited a moment before asking again. Is it possible?
“Yes, it’s possible.” Malfoy seemed startled that he’d actually said that, but he grunted a humorless laugh and continued. “That was one of Dolohov’s favorite ways to test someone he needed to send into a situation where they might be subjected to Imperio. We lost quite a few good henchmen that way. You’d think the bastard would realize he was depleting his most loyal troops. I suppose I’m lucky he never tested his deputies.”
Harry breathed a sigh of relief. At least he knew his contingency plan might work. Although in this purgatory nothing was certain.
Malfoy sat forward, leaning his arms on the table and staring hard at the space next to the letter board, unaware that Harry had moved across the room. “But you’re not… you wouldn’t…”
Only as a last resort.
Harry waited for Malfoy to read that message before adding,
Can’t live like this forever.
Can’t leave Summers in agony forever.
Malfoy looked even paler than usual, and he sounded shaken to his core. “You mean you’d actually… you’d do that… off your friend and then yourself if this ritual doesn’t work?”
That reaction surprised Harry. He’d asked Malfoy instead of Hermione because Malfoy would sneer and throw an insult, not take it personally.
Maybe not right away.
Might not work anyway.
“But why? Why would you even think of doing that?”
Why wouldn’t I?
Everyone needs to move on.
Malfoy shoved himself to his feet, suddenly furious. “Oh, so that’s it. Noble Potter, sacrificing himself again for the greater good.” His sneer left no doubt that he thought it was anything but good. “Only this time, you’d be taking someone down with you. Defeating the Dark Lord makes you a god, now, does it? Gives you the power over life and death? Doesn’t Summers get a choice? How do you think he-or his wife-might feel about that? Or maybe you’re just scared. Maybe you used up all that vaunted Gryffindor courage and now you’re just looking for the easy way out.”
Harry was too stunned to come up with a quick reply. But that didn’t stop Malfoy.
“And how do you think the Weasel and the Mu-Granger are going to feel? They’ve given up their whole lives to follow you, and now you’re just going to thumb your nose and walk away? You really are an arrogant, self-serving prick, aren’t you?”
Harry’s anger kicked in, along with desperate frustration that he couldn’t punch Malfoy in the nose.
They’re the reason I’d do it!
Malfoy glanced at his coin and scoffed. “Oh, and I suppose you’d be doing it for the Weaslette’s sake as well? Freeing her to move on, find someone else, all that rot? SHE LOVES YOU, YOU BLOODY PRICK! They ALL love you! Don’t you know what it means to have that? Friends, family, a lover? How can you just throw that all away without giving them the chance to save you?”
I’m not doing it today!
“No, but you’re going to give them only one chance? I always knew you were an idiot, Potter, but this really snags the Snitch.”
Chest heaving with impotent rage, Harry stared at Malfoy, wishing he could hex him to hell and back. But after a moment, an unnatural calm swept over him. He’d got what he wanted. What did he care what Malfoy thought? The important thing was his silence.
You promised you won’t tell.
Malfoy stared at the coin a moment, then looked up, one eyebrow raised. “I don’t remember making such a promise.”
Promise now. It’ll only upset them.
That’s the reason I asked you instead of Hermione.
Closing his eyes and rubbing a hand over them, Malfoy sighed. “You’re a right bastard, you know that? Yeah, I’ll keep quiet. On one condition.”
Harry narrowed his eyes. He wasn’t going to like this.
What?
“You give Granger as much time as she needs to try and reverse this curse-until she’s ready to give up.”
Malfoy was either completely sincere or the best actor Harry had ever seen. This newfound concern was as puzzling as it was… touching? Harry laughed out loud-he never thought he’d use that word about Malfoy. Of course, they’d been through a lot together since their school years-they’d pulled each other’s arses out of the literal and figurative fire several times, in spite of not really liking one another-but Malfoy was no doubt still looking out for his own arse… and maybe his mother’s.
And he was insane if he thought Hermione would ever give up. But the fact that it was Malfoy defending his friends and family-especially Ron and Hermione-was just too hard to ignore. Maybe one chance wasn’t enough. Of course, Harry knew no one could stop him if he decided to go ahead with his plan, but what did it matter if he did it this week or a year from now? Besides, Malfoy’s “one condition” felt almost like a dare, and when had Harry ever walked away from one of those? Yeah, he could accept the challenge, especially if it would insure Malfoy’s silence.
Fine. I’ll give her more time, but you never, ever tell ANYONE about this.
Malfoy slumped back into his chair. “Done.”
Was that relief on his face? It was gone so quickly, Harry would never be sure. But one thing he did know-he might now have a way out, if all else failed.
***
Ignoring the gawking stares following her, Ginny strode through the halls of St. Mungo’s as quickly as she could without running. She wouldn’t normally parade in public in her uniform like this, but Gwen had refused to let her leave the match early and the rest of the family would already be here.
Pushing open the door, she saw them gathered at the far end of the six-bed ward. As she tiptoed past a sleeping woman and two smaller gaping family groups, the crowd of redheads shifted. She could see Fleur, exhausted but glowing (looking nothing like the banshee from Tuesday’s Howler), holding court with a wide-eyed, thumb-sucking Victoire cradled at her side.
“Gin! You made it!” Bill was beaming next to Ron, who was cooing at the bundle in Hermione’s arms.
Ron and Hermione… Ginny’s stomach went into freefall. She hadn’t seen them in more than a week and the last owl she’d got was two days ago. Her brain had only a second to register the significance of their presence before Bill had scooped up the bundle of blankets and, with a proud smile, laid it gently in her arms.
“Meet your new niece, Dominique.”
Two bright blue eyes gazed curiously over cherubic cheeks, and rosebud lips puckered as if to grant a kiss. Ginny ran gentle fingers through the strawberry blonde fuzz atop the slightly misshapen head. She was beautiful, a miniature replica of her sister, the best of both her parents.
Emotions exploded in Ginny’s chest. What would it be like to hold a tiny new life from her own body… a baby with Harry’s eyes? Or would green and brown combine to make hazel? Would his dark hair cancel out her Weasley red? Would he rather have a boy or a girl? The emotions swirled into a heavy knot, making it hard to breathe. If she hadn’t taken precautions, she could be carrying a bit of Harry right now. What if she’d missed her chance? What if he…
Eyes burning, she knew she had to get out. Now!
She shoved the baby into the nearest set of arms and fled, running through the halls until she found a shadowed corner away from the hustle and bustle. Leaning against the wall, she slid to the floor, wrapped her arms around her knees, and buried her face in them. Two sets of footsteps pounded around the corner, then stopped and moved cautiously forward. Someone sank to the floor beside her and dropped an arm across her shoulders, but the silence held while she drew ragged breaths, gasping for control. She couldn’t lose it now. If she did, they might as well take her to the other end of this floor and give her the bed next to Gilderoy Lockhart’s.
After a few moments, with her emotions barely leashed, she raised her head to find Hermione’s worried eyes just inches from her own. Ron stood a couple of feet away looking equally concerned. The fact that they weren’t talking told her everything she needed to know. Her demons grew frantic with delight.
“I’m never going to see him again, am I?” Ginny whispered.
“Oh, Ginny, no, you can’t believe that.” Hermione glanced at Ron, but kept talking to Ginny. “You have to hang on. He’s alive and-”
“How do you know? How do you know he’s alive? Have you heard from him? Is he hurt? Is Scott okay? Why haven’t you brought them back?” Each question came out faster and louder than the one before as Ginny’s heart raced.
Hermione sent a desperate look at Ron. This time he pressed his lips together and shook his head a fraction. Hermione frowned and scanned the shadows, as if she expected someone to jump out of them, then turned back to Ginny. “He’s… they’re still wearing the tracking amulets. And we… we have a lead. A good one. We’re going to… we’re working on a plan-”
“Working on a plan?” Ginny’s fury flared. “You don’t have a plan yet? Hermione, it’s been nearly three bloody weeks! You don’t know any more than you did before, do you?”
“We do! We…” Hermione’s eyes met Ron’s; he shook his head more obviously this time, but she glared defiantly at him and then into the shadows. She straightened a bit and opened her mouth.
“We can’t tell you anything yet,” Ron blurted, cutting her off. “The mission is still under the Secrecy Charm.”
Ginny dropped her head to her knees again. They were hiding something, but what? Maybe they didn’t really know anything. Why else would they lie? Unless, he was… No! Ginny’s brain rejected the thought, but it came anyway: Harry was truly gone; they were just delaying the bad news. Everything in her revolted at the very idea, and she struggled to regain her equilibrium. Drawing strength from Hermione’s tight hug, Ginny shut down her demons before they could take over completely.
“You know I’d tell you, if I could,” Hermione murmured. “But please… please don’t give up hope.”
With an inelegant snort, Ginny raised her head. “What do you think is keeping me this close to sane? If I give up hope, I’ll go completely mad. But I don’t think I can hang on much longer. Please, just go and find him before I lose it altogether.”
***
“Ready, Harry?”
Harry finished applying the final layer of protective spells over Summers before tapping his coin.
Ready.
Hermione had relocated their base of operations to an empty chamber in the bowels of the Ministry vacated by the Department of Mysteries years ago. The huge space allowed plenty of room to conduct the ritual under protective wards without having to worry about rearranging or destroying the office. Now, she, Ron, and Malfoy stood at equidistant points on the outside of a carefully drawn rune circle with the Resurrection Stone hovering at the precise center overhead, directly above where Harry had laid Summers. Narcissa waited in a far corner, ready to transport Summers to St. Mungo’s and send help if anyone else was injured.
“Everyone else ready?” At Hermione’s question, Ron and Malfoy nodded and raised their wands. Harry wished he could be as confident as they looked. Hermione swished her wand to dim the torches, then pointed it toward the Resurrection Stone. “Begin!”
Like a lightning storm, the magic exploded, crackling and flashing in blinding fury. Harry crouched low over Summers, shielding him as a glittering dome descended like a cage from the Stone, closing in steadily until Harry was sure it would fry them into crisps. Time seemed to slow, seconds stretching to hours, then all of a sudden, it was over.
Lifting his head slowly, afraid of what he might find, he peered into darkness so complete he had to blink to be sure his eyes were open. Silence roared in his ears and amplified the pounding of his heart.
Plink!
The tiny noise echoed through the cavernous chamber. Four lights bloomed-wands illuminating worried faces. Harry drew what felt like his first breath in five minutes. Everyone appeared to be okay.
The torches flared… revealing the fog, thick as ever. His heart sank. He’d tried not to get his hopes up, but somehow they’d got away from him.
“It didn’t work.” Disappointment laced Hermione’s voice, but her eyes were full of fear. “Harry? Are you there? Are you all right?”
Wearily, he tapped his wand to his Galleon. Malfoy glanced down at his own coin and didn’t bother to hide the relief in his voice. “He says they’re fine.”
Hermione blew out a shuddering breath and dropped her head into her hands. “I can’t think what went wrong.”
“I told you the runes weren’t right,” Malfoy said, but the words held no heat. He seemed just as let down as the rest of them.
An inappropriate giggle bubbled up Harry’s throat. Under different circumstances, the scene would be hilarious-Hermione had come back from the hospital determined to conduct the ritual immediately, while Malfoy had done everything in his power to convince her that they needed to wait a few days and do more research first.
As Malfoy and Hermione quietly-a sure sign they were both shaken-debated the possible flaws in the ritual, Ron walked to the center of the circle and bent over to plunge his hand through Summers’s stomach. Harry had to turn his head. He knew Summers wouldn’t feel anything, but it was still unsettling.
“Stone looks all right,” Ron announced, holding the cracked, black gem up between his thumb and forefinger.
“How can you tell?” Malfoy asked. “Shouldn’t we… I don’t know… test it? Or something?”
“No!” Ron and Hermione spoke in unison with absolute conviction.
“But-”
“No, Malfoy.” Ron folded the Stone into his huge fist and went to stand next to Hermione. “It’s Harry’s, and he meant for it never to be used again to summon the dead.”
As Malfoy began to present his case, Harry’s heart swelled with pride for his friends’s staunch loyalty, even as he felt a pang of longing to see his parents again. Of course, the way things were going, he might see them sooner than he’d planned. Not today, though. He’d given his word, and this was only the first attempt. But he couldn’t help wondering whom Malfoy might want to summon. Vincent Crabbe, maybe? Surely not his Aunt Bellatrix. No, more likely Snape. That thought gave Harry pause, making him wonder if the Potions Master might have some advice for them. But then, they could always talk with his portrait. Maybe he should suggest…
“Leave it, Draco.” Narcissa’s gentle words cut off Malfoy’s rising rant. She put a hand on his shoulder and led him to the “research corner” for a hushed conversation.
When Harry turned his attention from the Malfoys back to the circle, Hermione was staring in his direction. When she took a couple of steps closer, he tensed, knowing what was coming. Trying to ignore her, he knelt and tucked Summers’s cloak around him before releasing the Body Bind and recasting the Stasis Charm.
“Harry.” Her voice was cajoling.
Standing, he strode to the letter board, wishing yet again that he’d asked for punctuation-he needed several exclamation points.
NO
She saw the word flash on the wall and scurried in his direction with Ron on her heels. “Harry, how can you say that? You saw her. I know you were there. You heard what she said. We need to tell her.”
Yes, he had been at the hospital, and it had only strengthened his resolve. Ginny couldn’t know where he was or what had happened.
T E L L H E R A N D I W I L L L E A V E
“Leave? What do you mean leave?”
Harry rolled his eyes. Hermione was smarter than that.
T A K E O F F T H E A M U L E T S A N D G O A W A Y
He felt a stab of guilt at the way her face paled, but he knew it was probably going to happen in the end, anyway. Best start preparing her now. Besides, Hermione would eventually have to convince Ginny that, with the amulet’s readings, a body wasn’t needed as proof.
B E T T E R F O R H E R T O T H I N K I M D E A D
Hermione gave a cry of distress and turned to bury her face in Ron’s chest. His auburn brows drew together over her head. “That was harsh, mate.”
S H E N E E D S T O M O V E O N
Hermione peeked over her shoulder at what he’d written, then turned to glare in his direction. “But if we don’t tell, you’ll stay until we find a way to bring you back?”
He didn’t want to make any promises he couldn’t-wouldn’t-keep. Besides, the Malfoys were following the conversation now.
F O R A W H I L E
The Galleon in his hand grew warm.
Remember your promise.
Harry sighed. None of them were going to make this easier. He tapped his coin.
Might need you to Obliviate them when the time comes.
Malfoy’s face turned a furious Gryffindor red. “The hell I will!” He stormed from the room muttering a litany of profanity and slamming the door behind him. Narcissa gave Ron and Hermione an apologetic look and hurried after him.
Wuss. We’ll talk later, Harry tapped onto his coin with a grim smile. He wasn’t sure whether to be horrified or happy that he was getting used to the idea of what he might eventually have to do.
Ron blinked. “Blimey! What did you say to him, Harry?”
H E S J U S T B E I N G M A L F O Y
Ron and Hermione frowned at each other, but Harry didn’t need them asking questions.
W H A T S N E X T
Scowl deepening, Hermione drew a heavy breath and let it back out with a huff. “I suppose we go back to the drawing board.” She set her shoulders and moved to the table to find quill and parchment. “I need to ask you some questions first.”
Harry ran his fingers under his glasses and scrubbed at his eyes. It was going to be a long night.
***
Ginny pulled the quilt more tightly around her and stared blindly out the window, oblivious to the comings and goings on the frozen street below.
Val and Kelby were gone. After the confrontation with the press at the gate, Val had taken a leave of absence from the team and moved back home with her parents. She’d said everything-including Ginny-reminded her too much of Scott. Ginny could understand that, but she hoped Val was still seeing Healer Andrews to try and ward off the depression. But Kelby would have to check on that; Val wasn’t answering Ginny’s owls any more.
Kelby had offered to stay, but Ginny had sent her home, too. No point in all of them waiting their lives away.
Even so, Val’s decision had affected Ginny more deeply than she’d let on. With nowhere to focus outside of herself, Ginny’s demons had set up housekeeping in her head and invited all their friends over to party. Finally having a Monday off wasn’t helping, either. She’d come straight home from her session with Healer Andrews and curled up in her sitting room chair with no plan to move in the near future. The afternoon stretched ahead. She should at least make herself go and visit the children, if not find a whole list of things to take her out of the flat. But she just didn’t have it in her. Keeping up a brave front for everyone else’s sake was hard work.
More than a week had passed since Ginny had seen Hermione-she and Ron hadn’t bothered to show up for lunch at the Burrow yesterday-and the last progress report on their search had come on Wednesday by owl, rather than a Floo-call.
For the millionth time, Ginny let the memory of their conversation at St. Mungo’s play slowly through her mind. She’d been so upset at the time, she hadn’t paid enough attention, but later, in the still of the night, she could see everything more clearly. Ron had said they were still under the Secrecy Charm, but Ginny was certain Hermione had been on the verge of telling something… something she wasn’t supposed to tell.
Of course, they hadn’t shown their faces since, the cowards. Ginny needed only a few minutes with Hermione to get at whatever they were hiding. Hermione wanted to tell; Ginny just knew it. But something was holding her back.
With a growl, Ginny pounded her head against the back of the chair. The waiting was hardest. Going for days and days with no word, hoping it meant only that nothing terrible had happened yet. But it went against her grain. She needed to do something… needed to know what was going on.
Maybe she should send Hermione an owl? No, that would make it too easy to avoid the truth. But Ginny couldn’t bear to wait another whole week and hope that they’d show up at the Burrow. Their appearances had become increasingly less likely as the weeks passed.
Harry would never sit back and wait like this.
Without making a conscious decision, Ginny found herself gathering her winter cloak and Disapparating. It was only when she opened her eyes and saw the red telephone box that she fully realized what she intended to do. With fresh determination, she lifted her chin and stepped inside to press the buttons-62242. Inside, she gave her name, had her wand checked, and made her way to the Auror Division, daring anyone to try and stop her.
Stepping into the hallway on Level 2 she gave the receptionist a warm smile. “Hi…” -she peered at the woman’s name tag- “Ramona. I’m Ginny Weas-”
The squeal that cut her off was ear piercing. “Ginny Weasley! Oh, my stars! It’s really you!” Ramona bounced in her seat. “Please, can I have your autograph? I’m your biggest fan! I’ve so missed you playing. Will you be off the reserves soon? I can’t wait to watch you fly again. You’re like magic in motion.”
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Ginny quickly signed an ancient copy of Quidditch Quarterly and the latest issue of Witch Weekly so Ramona would settle enough to give directions. But when she finally asked for Hermione, the answer came as a shock.
“Oh!” Ramona looked back and forth like she was checking for eavesdroppers, then leaned across the counter and lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “I’m only supposed to say that she’s not in, but you being her friend and all… Mrs. Weasley isn’t on this floor anymore. She’s working down in the Department of Mysteries now.” Ginny blinked-Hermione hadn’t said anything about a transfer. But before she could ask about it, the woman continued. “Well, not really in the Department of Mysteries, you know. She’s down the hall, I believe. At least, I’ve been instructed to forward her mail to Room 9, Level 9-easy to remember, yeah?”
Ginny leaned in with an encouraging smile and said in an undertone, “You’re so clever!”
The woman puffed with pride, then added, “No one is allowed to visit her down there. Top-secret project, you know. But I’d be happy to send a message for her to meet you in the canteen, if you’d like.”
Ginny gave an airy wave. “No, no need to bother her. I was just in the neighborhood and thought I’d say hello. You’ll let her know I was here, won’t you?”
“Oh, yes. Anything for you, Ginny.”
Well, at least fame was useful for something.
After stepping into the lift, Ginny gave Ramona a friendly wave and a last smile that disappeared the instant the doors closed, then pressed the button for Level 9. She’d be damned if she were going to be turned away that easily… especially now that things looked more suspicious than ever.
When the lift doors opened, Ginny peeked out to find the hallway deserted. The plain black door at the end of it brought back that frightful night of her fourth year, but she shoved away the memories. She had more important things to do right now.
Scanning the area, she saw a corridor leading off to the right that she hadn’t noticed when she was here before. Of course, she hadn’t been looking for it then, but now she walked cautiously down the long narrow passage lined with closed doors. Keeping her step light, she moved slowly, senses tuned to pick up any wards. She was surprised when she got to the end of the hall without tripping an alarm… and that the door marked #9 opened with only an Alohamora.
Quietly pushing it open a crack, she held her breath and listened. Hermione’s voice echoed from the far end of the room. Another voice-male and vaguely familiar-answered, but Ginny couldn’t make out any of their words. She debated for a moment. If she just charged in, they might scramble for a cover story and usher her back upstairs before she learned anything. But if she could sneak closer, Hermione might be angry-and in trouble-but maybe Ginny could finally find out what was going on.
Her internal debate was short. She peered through the narrow opening, turning her head one way and then the other, trying to scope out the lay of the room. It was huge, every bit as big as the Great Hall at Hogwarts, if more square. Halfway down the left wall, a fireplace crackled merrily, while evenly-spaced torches flickered all around the room in deep, floor-to-ceiling alcoves. The ones near the back gave off much more light, as if magically enhanced, which made sense, since that’s where the only furniture and occupants seemed to be.
Facing the fire, Hermione sat at a massive wooden table, scribbling madly on a parchment perched precariously atop a short stack of open books. What seemed to be hundreds more books created a barrier that hid whomever she was talking to seated at her right-Ginny could see his feet beneath the table, but nothing else that pointed to his identity. The rest of the room appeared to be completely empty.
Time to move.
With one more quick scan of the area, Ginny pushed the door open just far enough to squeeze through and shut it with the tiniest of clicks. Keeping to the shadows, she edged around the right side of the room, concentrating on keeping every movement silent as she made for the last torch alcove before the brighter lights. Once she’d settled into the slim opening (good thing she was petite), she allowed herself the tiniest of breaths before peeking around the corner-then nearly gave herself away by a squeak of surprise.
Draco Malfoy? What the hell was he doing here? And why was Hermione talking to him like he was… well, not a friend, exactly, but maybe a colleague?
And then Hermione did something completely inexplicable: she turned and asked a question to the empty space over a chart of letters and names on the floor. Ginny’s eyes grew wide and her jaw fell when an answer appeared on the wall next to the chart. She hadn’t been paying close enough attention to catch the question, but the response made no sense with the letters all run together. Ginny snapped her mouth shut and forced herself to listen more carefully.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Potter,” Malfoy drawled. “That’ll never work.”
Ginny frowned. Potter? Why would he say that when Harry obviously wasn’t in the room?
“I’m afraid he’s right, Harry. We already had to rule that out because…”
Ginny stopped listening as the pieces fell together. Harry was here. For some reason, she couldn’t see him, but he was here. Not missing. Here. She gasped for air, her lungs suddenly refusing to work.
Hermione whirled. The blood drained from her face. “Ginny! What are you doing here?” She sounded terrified.
And she bloody well should be. In an instant, Ginny’s surprise morphed into fury. Wand drawn, she stepped into the light. “Hermione Granger Weasley, you’d better start explaining right now!”
Chapter 60
Prologue