From Across the Great Divide, Chapter 2
Rated: R
Summary: A post-Hogwarts H/G fic. Strange circumstances draw Harry and Ginny closer together. But are they in danger? Romance, adventure, Monty Python, and tartan boxer shorts abound.
Thank you to my reviewers, and to Imogen and Firebolt909 for their beta-help. There is an obscure Monty Python reference in this chapter. Twenty House Points to anyone who catches it.
Harry furrowed his brow in concern. "Ginny, it takes some pretty powerful Dark Magic to break through Anti-Apparition wards." Until Ginny's sixth year, it was taken for granted that nothing could break through this type of magical protection, but Lord Voldemort and his minions had proved everyone wrong one fateful day and besieged Hogwarts castle. Ginny shuddered. Nobody liked to be reminded of those dark times. She could easily imagine those memories were harder for Harry to think about than they were for most people.
"Anyway, you're going to have to cast your wards again. Once they've been broken, they're useless. Do you have any idea who could have done this?"
"None at all. I don't think ordinary thieves would go to such trouble for anything I might own. It wouldn't be worth the bother breaking through the wards." Ginny began to shiver, as the shock of what had happened began to wear off and reality sunk in. "Listen, Harry," she said shakily, "don't take this the wrong way, but I'm exhausted, and I have a huge mess to clean up. Bed sounds mighty tempting at the moment, if I can manage to find my bedroom, that is."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"You can't stay here. I don't have a guest room."
"I'm not leaving," Harry said firmly. "What if whoever did this decides to come finish the job? There's something strange going on here, and you won't be safe here alone until you've got the wards back in place. Doing that spell tonight is out of the question, tired as we both are. If we can get your sofa put back together, I can kip there."
Ginny relented. She didn't feel up to arguing.
In the end, with Harry's help, she put the living room back in order, using a few handy housekeeping spells. It seemed senseless to leave it until morning. She then Summoned a blanket and pillow for Harry. "Sorry, I don't have any sort of pyjamas to lend you. Nothing of mine would fit."
Harry grinned. "Damn, I was hoping you'd have something nice and lacy I could borrow."
Ginny could not help giggling at the mental image of Harry in one of her night dresses. Not that any of them would fit. Harry seemed taller than she remembered him. This was likely a trick of the imagination caused by their not seeing each other very often in the past six years. His frame, while still wiry, had certainly filled out since their Hogwarts days, and perhaps this explained her impression. Right now he seemed to tower over her, even though she knew he wasn't even as tall as Ron.
She murmured a good night to Harry and retreated to her bedroom. It was as much a disaster as the living room had been. Her clothes and undergarments were strewn over the floor, and the sheets had been ripped from her bed. She sighed resignedly, and cast the necessary charms to send her clothes back to the wardrobe and make up the bed. She undressed and climbed into bed, hoping her exhaustion would send her quickly to sleep so she would not have to consider the implications of what had transpired here tonight.
*
The smell of bacon frying woke Ginny the next morning. She stirred but did not rise immediately, loath to leave the comfort of her bed and face the morning. She had spent several hours tossing and turning, trying desperately to clear her mind so that she could drift off, but although sleep had eluded her, she was no closer to understanding why anyone would want to break into her house. She owned nothing of any great value, she had no enemies that she knew of, no jealous ex-boyfriend, nothing. She finally opened her eyes and sat up. From the angle of the sun on her wall, she concluded that the morning was already more than half gone. She reached over to her bedside table and looked at her watch. The hand was pointing to "time to rise and shine".
There came a soft knock at her door. She turned to see Harry standing in the doorway, already dressed in the same robes he'd worn to the wedding. His hair, which yesterday he had somehow managed to tame into some semblance of order for the occasion, was now sticking out in all directions, making him look younger and reminding her of the boy she had known at school. Her hand rose to smooth her own hair. She knew it was tousled from sleep, and she was certain she must have dark circles under her eyes; in short, she was sure she looked a fright.
"I've got some breakfast started," Harry informed her. "Would you rather have tea or coffee?"
"Coffee, please. I'll need it this morning. I can make it, if you like. Lucky for you, I've been shopping or else you might not have found anything to work with."
Ginny reached for her dressing gown, and followed Harry out to the kitchen. The bacon was almost done. He'd also scrambled some eggs and made toast. Ginny waved her wand at the coffee maker which began to percolate, filling the air with an exhilarating aroma. "Mmmm," said Ginny, "just the smell is enough to help me wake up."
"How did you sleep?" Harry asked as he filled two plates and set them on the table.
"Not well, actually. I couldn't stop thinking about what happened. You?"
"I've had better nights. Not that your sofa isn't comfortable, but I kept expecting some dark wizard or other to suddenly turn up. Do you have any idea who could have done this?"
"No more than I did last night. I kept asking myself that very question and came to the conclusion that someone must have got the wrong house. I have no enemies that I know of and nothing worth stealing."
"Have you missed anything?" Harry asked, as Ginny got up to pour two mugs of hot coffee.
Ginny paused to stir some milk into her mug. "No, nothing's missing."
"Could this have anything to do with your job at the Ministry?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I don't know, I'm just grasping at straws."
"I can't see how it could. If anyone wanted to go after a Weasley at the Ministry for whatever reason, why would they choose me of all people? It's not as if I'm the only one; there are six of us to choose from." It wasn't common knowledge, but Harry knew that the twins and Ron only worked at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes as a cover for their actual jobs with the Department of Mysteries. "Why would they target me, when my father and brothers are all have higher positions than I do?"
"Maybe you were the easiest to get to for that reason. Or maybe you sent one nasty owl too many."
"If I did, I can't for the life of me think who I might have sent it to. I'll have to have a look tomorrow when I go into the office, see if I recognise any names on the list." Ginny cleared the table and waved her wand at the dishes in the sink. She poured more coffee. "I should also have a look to see if anyone got an owl last night concerning the break-in here. Dark magic like what was used here is definitely a misuse of magic and should have turned up on the detectors."
"Shouldn't you go in today and have a look?"
"I can't. No one goes in on Sunday. If anything happens over Sunday, it's allowed to slide for one day. The owl goes out on Monday. I should be thankful for small favours. Someone might get the bright idea we should work over Sunday, and I'd lose the one day a week I'm assured a day off."
"Don't you have a key to get in? You could just pop in and have a look, try to get this cleared up."
Ginny stifled the urge to laugh. Harry was obviously ignorant of the often illogical workings of the Ministry. She was used to them, though, having been raised in a Ministry family. "No, you can't get in with a key. It's never as straightforward as that. I imagine it's a question of security, but Ms. Hopkirk is the only person who can open the office. It takes some special spell to open the door, and she's the only one who knows it. I can lock things up again, but I can't get in without her. And I wouldn't dream of bothering her on a Sunday! The last person who did something like that found themselves hexed into the next week."
"In the meantime, don't you think we should tell your family what's happened?"
"Oh, please, let's wait until we know what this is about. They're just going to get worried and tell me I should be living at home. Mum especially. She can't get it through her head that I'm grown up and able support myself. She'll have a fit when she finds out."
"Well, we might at least tell Fred and George. Maybe they'll know something constructive. I'd say we tell Ron, but he's on his honeymoon…"
"No," cried Ginny. "Not Fred and George! The last thing I need is to have them find out you spent the night here, even if it was on the sofa, after all that business about aphrodisiacs."
At that moment there was a knock at the front door. Ginny moved to answer it. Harry followed her into the living room, as Ginny opened the door, and Molly Weasley walked in. "Mum, what brings you by?"
Molly didn't answer. She was standing in the living room, still as a statue, her mouth pursed into a line reminiscent of Professor McGonagall, fixing her gaze on Harry, who was all too obviously dressed in the same robes he had worn the previous evening. She looked as if the first words out of her mouth might very well be "scarlet woman". Ginny opened her mouth and almost said, "it's not what you think, Mum." She could have kicked herself for even thinking it. She was an adult, 22 years old. She didn't owe any explanations to her mother.
"It's not what you think, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry, breaking the awkward silence.
"Well, what else am I to think?" answered Molly, her voice dangerously calm.
This was true. Ginny noticed belatedly that Harry had folded the blanket she had lent him neatly, placing the pillow on top of it. Then she realised another thing: she was still in her dressing gown. Through the open door to the kitchen, two mugs could be seen cosily keeping each other company on the table. There was really no way to prove he had slept on the sofa. Ginny could have cursed his thoughtfulness in tidying up and her own laziness in not getting dressed right away, but another thought occurred to her. If somehow they managed to convince Molly that nothing untoward had happened, they would have to tell her the truth of the matter, that someone had broken into the cottage. That was just as bad, if not worse. Before Harry had a chance to say anything more, Ginny broke in, "That's right, Mum. We've just spent the night shagging each other senseless. We'd like to get back at it as soon as possible, if you wouldn't mind."
Molly whirled around and faced her daughter. "Well, I never, in all my born days…" Her low tone belied her anger; it was somehow worse than if she had shouted. "Virginia Weasley, this will be the death of your father when he finds out about this…"
Ginny steeled herself, stared straight into her mother's brown eyes, and replied, "There's no need to tell him, then, is there?"
Mother and daughter looked daggers at each other. Finally Molly grated out, "I'll just leave you two to it, then, shall I?" She turned and left; she'd never even got as far as stating the reason she had come.
Ginny let out a long breath and sank onto the sofa. She couldn't bear to look at Harry, but at last he broke the silence. "Why did you tell her that, Ginny?"
Reluctantly, Ginny raised her eyes to meet his. "At the time, it seemed better to let her think what she wanted, than to tell her the truth. I think I may have carried it a bit far, though. Oh, God…" She broke off and buried her face in her hands. She could feel the backs of her eyes begin to burn, as the reality of the situation sunk in. She felt the sofa cushion next to her sag, as Harry sat down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder.
"I've really bolloxed things up now, haven't I?" she said through her hands. "You see, things have been, well, complicated between my mother and me for a while now. And now I've gone and made it much worse. But really, she should know me better than to think I just randomly bring men back to my house…"
Harry took her wrists and brought her hands away from her face. She caught her breath, as he cupped a hand under her chin and brought her face up to meet his gaze. Gently he raised a thumb and wiped away a traitorous tear that had begun to slide down her cheek. "Maybe," Harry said quietly, "she was thinking more of my reputation than yours."
This was likely true, Ginny realised. Her mother read Witch Weekly almost religiously, although Molly claimed it was just for the recipes. If half the articles that had appeared on Harry were to be believed, he was a notorious playboy. Unfortunately, Molly seemed to have learned nothing from the Rita Skeeter fiasco several years ago and subscribed to the idea that if something appeared in print it must be true.
The silence stretched out between them, as Ginny stared into Harry's eyes. God, they were so green, she thought. A girl could drown in them. Finally, she was able to find her voice. "If you don't mind, I think I'd like to get dressed now, before anyone else turns up and starts jumping to conclusions." And she escaped into the bathroom.
She emerged from the shower, feeling somewhat refreshed, but not better about the scene with Molly. She hated the idea of anyone perceiving her as weak, and now she had managed to appear just so, not only in front of her mother, but in front of Harry, as well. She quickly performed a dessicatum spell to dry her bright hair, brushed it and tied it back. Tying on her dressing gown, she moved to the bedroom, calling out to Harry, "the bathroom's free, if you'd like a shower. I laid out a towel for you."
"Think I will, thanks."
Ginny heard the water running in the bathroom not long afterwards, as she chose a pair of old shorts and a T-shirt to wear. It was Sunday, her free day, and normally she would have been out already, puttering around her flower beds. She had let the weeds go too long, and she knew she needed to get at them. Suddenly, she remembered why her mother had come over that morning. She had promised Molly she'd divide some of her flowers which would bloom later in the summer and give Molly the divisions for her own garden. The thought did not improve her mood.
She went out to the living room and waited for Harry to finish in the bathroom. He joined her not long after, having showered and removed the beard stubble from his face with an imberbus spell. He had had no choice but to put on his creased dress robes once more, however. Ginny drew out her wand, pointed it at Harry's robes and muttered, "Repasso." Immediately, they appeared freshly ironed. "There, that's much better," she said.
"I've been going over the situation in my mind," Harry began, "and I can't help but find it extremely odd. You say nothing's missing, and yet someone went to an incredible amount of bother to break in here. I have to draw the conclusion that this was meant as some kind of warning. It must have been known you'd be out most of the day yesterday, but yet whoever broke in here waited until late at night to do so. It's as if they wanted to be caught. Or to catch you alone."
Ginny caught her breath. "But why? That's what I don't understand. I haven't done anything to anyone. And it's not as if I hold an influential position at the Ministry…"
"At the moment the most important thing is to put the wards back on this house. Make it harder for them to come back. Let's get it done. I can give you a hand if you like."
They went out through the kitchen into the garden. In one corner was a bed of magical plants that were useful in making potions, but the bulk of the garden was purely decorative. Oriental poppies were just beginning to put their spectacular but short-lived show. There were irises, campanulas and lupines in bloom. Peonies and roses scented the air. There was a seemingly infinite variety of other plants that had not yet reached their flowering stage but would assure colour throughout the rest of the summer and into autumn.
"Ginny," said Harry, sounding rather impressed, "did you plant all this yourself?"
"No," replied Ginny, "some of it was here when I moved in. I've just added to it."
"It looks like an awful lot of work." Harry had been enlisted to do the yard work often enough in his childhood to understand what an undertaking a large-scale flower garden could be.
"If you do it Muggle-fashion, perhaps, but if you use magic, it's not so bad. I should do some weeding today. I usually get things done on Sundays."
"I'll help you cast the wards, and then I'll let you get to it, then."
Casting protective wards was strenuous business. It required a great deal of concentration and consumed a lot of magical energy. If it could be accomplished by more than one witch or wizard, the process was a lot less tiring and the resulting wards were stronger. Harry moved to one side of the garden and Ginny to the opposite side. Both raised their wands and on the count of three cried, "Protegio!" It was then necessary for them to focus their energy for five full minutes until the spell was complete. There was a brief scintillation in the air which signalled that the wards were back in place.
"There," said Ginny at last, sinking down onto a bench, "that should do it."
Harry joined her on the bench. "Are you going to be all right here by yourself?" he asked.
"I should be. With the protection back up anyone would have a hard time getting back in."
"I could stay if you like."
"Taken a liking to my sofa, have you? No, I'll be okay until tomorrow, and then I can have a look at the files in the office and see if there are any clues to be found there."
"I'll come in to the Ministry tomorrow and see what you've found."
"Technically, I'm not supposed to show our files to anyone from outside the Ministry. You're going to have to be discreet."
"Then I'll come on the pretext of taking you to lunch."
"It'll be a late lunch. Ms. Hopkirk's lunch hour is from 1 to 2, but she usually never bothers to come back in until 3. I'll have to stay in the office during that time. But if you come in around 1:30, we should have plenty of time to have a look at the files."
"I'll do that then." Suddenly, Harry moved closer to her on the bench. "Before I leave, there's a bit of unfinished business to attend to. I meant to do this last night, but we were interrupted." He took Ginny's face in his hands. She barely had the time to gasp when his lips met hers. The kiss was soft at first but quickly deepened, as Harry threaded his fingers through her hair. An indeterminate amount of time passed, but at last Harry broke off the kiss.
"Until tomorrow, then." Quickly, he brushed his lips against her forehead and rose to leave. Ginny was speechless as she watched him walk around to the front of the house, where he would be able to Disapparate from the road. She had no idea how long she sat there, waiting for her breathing to return to normal and her heart-rate to slow. It seemed to her the clock had turned back ten years, back to the time when she had had an embarrassing crush on Harry. She cringed inwardly, thinking about the blushes and clumsiness she had experienced whenever he was around. She knew that it wouldn't take much for all that to start over again… if indeed it hadn't already. She swore to herself. Just what right did Harry Potter have to possess the power to turn her into a quivering puddle of blancmange when ever he was around?
Next chapter
Summary: A post-Hogwarts H/G fic. Strange circumstances draw Harry and Ginny closer together. But are they in danger? Romance, adventure, Monty Python, and tartan boxer shorts abound.
Thank you to my reviewers, and to Imogen and Firebolt909 for their beta-help. There is an obscure Monty Python reference in this chapter. Twenty House Points to anyone who catches it.
Harry furrowed his brow in concern. "Ginny, it takes some pretty powerful Dark Magic to break through Anti-Apparition wards." Until Ginny's sixth year, it was taken for granted that nothing could break through this type of magical protection, but Lord Voldemort and his minions had proved everyone wrong one fateful day and besieged Hogwarts castle. Ginny shuddered. Nobody liked to be reminded of those dark times. She could easily imagine those memories were harder for Harry to think about than they were for most people.
"Anyway, you're going to have to cast your wards again. Once they've been broken, they're useless. Do you have any idea who could have done this?"
"None at all. I don't think ordinary thieves would go to such trouble for anything I might own. It wouldn't be worth the bother breaking through the wards." Ginny began to shiver, as the shock of what had happened began to wear off and reality sunk in. "Listen, Harry," she said shakily, "don't take this the wrong way, but I'm exhausted, and I have a huge mess to clean up. Bed sounds mighty tempting at the moment, if I can manage to find my bedroom, that is."
"I'm not going anywhere."
"You can't stay here. I don't have a guest room."
"I'm not leaving," Harry said firmly. "What if whoever did this decides to come finish the job? There's something strange going on here, and you won't be safe here alone until you've got the wards back in place. Doing that spell tonight is out of the question, tired as we both are. If we can get your sofa put back together, I can kip there."
Ginny relented. She didn't feel up to arguing.
In the end, with Harry's help, she put the living room back in order, using a few handy housekeeping spells. It seemed senseless to leave it until morning. She then Summoned a blanket and pillow for Harry. "Sorry, I don't have any sort of pyjamas to lend you. Nothing of mine would fit."
Harry grinned. "Damn, I was hoping you'd have something nice and lacy I could borrow."
Ginny could not help giggling at the mental image of Harry in one of her night dresses. Not that any of them would fit. Harry seemed taller than she remembered him. This was likely a trick of the imagination caused by their not seeing each other very often in the past six years. His frame, while still wiry, had certainly filled out since their Hogwarts days, and perhaps this explained her impression. Right now he seemed to tower over her, even though she knew he wasn't even as tall as Ron.
She murmured a good night to Harry and retreated to her bedroom. It was as much a disaster as the living room had been. Her clothes and undergarments were strewn over the floor, and the sheets had been ripped from her bed. She sighed resignedly, and cast the necessary charms to send her clothes back to the wardrobe and make up the bed. She undressed and climbed into bed, hoping her exhaustion would send her quickly to sleep so she would not have to consider the implications of what had transpired here tonight.
*
The smell of bacon frying woke Ginny the next morning. She stirred but did not rise immediately, loath to leave the comfort of her bed and face the morning. She had spent several hours tossing and turning, trying desperately to clear her mind so that she could drift off, but although sleep had eluded her, she was no closer to understanding why anyone would want to break into her house. She owned nothing of any great value, she had no enemies that she knew of, no jealous ex-boyfriend, nothing. She finally opened her eyes and sat up. From the angle of the sun on her wall, she concluded that the morning was already more than half gone. She reached over to her bedside table and looked at her watch. The hand was pointing to "time to rise and shine".
There came a soft knock at her door. She turned to see Harry standing in the doorway, already dressed in the same robes he'd worn to the wedding. His hair, which yesterday he had somehow managed to tame into some semblance of order for the occasion, was now sticking out in all directions, making him look younger and reminding her of the boy she had known at school. Her hand rose to smooth her own hair. She knew it was tousled from sleep, and she was certain she must have dark circles under her eyes; in short, she was sure she looked a fright.
"I've got some breakfast started," Harry informed her. "Would you rather have tea or coffee?"
"Coffee, please. I'll need it this morning. I can make it, if you like. Lucky for you, I've been shopping or else you might not have found anything to work with."
Ginny reached for her dressing gown, and followed Harry out to the kitchen. The bacon was almost done. He'd also scrambled some eggs and made toast. Ginny waved her wand at the coffee maker which began to percolate, filling the air with an exhilarating aroma. "Mmmm," said Ginny, "just the smell is enough to help me wake up."
"How did you sleep?" Harry asked as he filled two plates and set them on the table.
"Not well, actually. I couldn't stop thinking about what happened. You?"
"I've had better nights. Not that your sofa isn't comfortable, but I kept expecting some dark wizard or other to suddenly turn up. Do you have any idea who could have done this?"
"No more than I did last night. I kept asking myself that very question and came to the conclusion that someone must have got the wrong house. I have no enemies that I know of and nothing worth stealing."
"Have you missed anything?" Harry asked, as Ginny got up to pour two mugs of hot coffee.
Ginny paused to stir some milk into her mug. "No, nothing's missing."
"Could this have anything to do with your job at the Ministry?"
"Why do you ask?"
"I don't know, I'm just grasping at straws."
"I can't see how it could. If anyone wanted to go after a Weasley at the Ministry for whatever reason, why would they choose me of all people? It's not as if I'm the only one; there are six of us to choose from." It wasn't common knowledge, but Harry knew that the twins and Ron only worked at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes as a cover for their actual jobs with the Department of Mysteries. "Why would they target me, when my father and brothers are all have higher positions than I do?"
"Maybe you were the easiest to get to for that reason. Or maybe you sent one nasty owl too many."
"If I did, I can't for the life of me think who I might have sent it to. I'll have to have a look tomorrow when I go into the office, see if I recognise any names on the list." Ginny cleared the table and waved her wand at the dishes in the sink. She poured more coffee. "I should also have a look to see if anyone got an owl last night concerning the break-in here. Dark magic like what was used here is definitely a misuse of magic and should have turned up on the detectors."
"Shouldn't you go in today and have a look?"
"I can't. No one goes in on Sunday. If anything happens over Sunday, it's allowed to slide for one day. The owl goes out on Monday. I should be thankful for small favours. Someone might get the bright idea we should work over Sunday, and I'd lose the one day a week I'm assured a day off."
"Don't you have a key to get in? You could just pop in and have a look, try to get this cleared up."
Ginny stifled the urge to laugh. Harry was obviously ignorant of the often illogical workings of the Ministry. She was used to them, though, having been raised in a Ministry family. "No, you can't get in with a key. It's never as straightforward as that. I imagine it's a question of security, but Ms. Hopkirk is the only person who can open the office. It takes some special spell to open the door, and she's the only one who knows it. I can lock things up again, but I can't get in without her. And I wouldn't dream of bothering her on a Sunday! The last person who did something like that found themselves hexed into the next week."
"In the meantime, don't you think we should tell your family what's happened?"
"Oh, please, let's wait until we know what this is about. They're just going to get worried and tell me I should be living at home. Mum especially. She can't get it through her head that I'm grown up and able support myself. She'll have a fit when she finds out."
"Well, we might at least tell Fred and George. Maybe they'll know something constructive. I'd say we tell Ron, but he's on his honeymoon…"
"No," cried Ginny. "Not Fred and George! The last thing I need is to have them find out you spent the night here, even if it was on the sofa, after all that business about aphrodisiacs."
At that moment there was a knock at the front door. Ginny moved to answer it. Harry followed her into the living room, as Ginny opened the door, and Molly Weasley walked in. "Mum, what brings you by?"
Molly didn't answer. She was standing in the living room, still as a statue, her mouth pursed into a line reminiscent of Professor McGonagall, fixing her gaze on Harry, who was all too obviously dressed in the same robes he had worn the previous evening. She looked as if the first words out of her mouth might very well be "scarlet woman". Ginny opened her mouth and almost said, "it's not what you think, Mum." She could have kicked herself for even thinking it. She was an adult, 22 years old. She didn't owe any explanations to her mother.
"It's not what you think, Mrs. Weasley," said Harry, breaking the awkward silence.
"Well, what else am I to think?" answered Molly, her voice dangerously calm.
This was true. Ginny noticed belatedly that Harry had folded the blanket she had lent him neatly, placing the pillow on top of it. Then she realised another thing: she was still in her dressing gown. Through the open door to the kitchen, two mugs could be seen cosily keeping each other company on the table. There was really no way to prove he had slept on the sofa. Ginny could have cursed his thoughtfulness in tidying up and her own laziness in not getting dressed right away, but another thought occurred to her. If somehow they managed to convince Molly that nothing untoward had happened, they would have to tell her the truth of the matter, that someone had broken into the cottage. That was just as bad, if not worse. Before Harry had a chance to say anything more, Ginny broke in, "That's right, Mum. We've just spent the night shagging each other senseless. We'd like to get back at it as soon as possible, if you wouldn't mind."
Molly whirled around and faced her daughter. "Well, I never, in all my born days…" Her low tone belied her anger; it was somehow worse than if she had shouted. "Virginia Weasley, this will be the death of your father when he finds out about this…"
Ginny steeled herself, stared straight into her mother's brown eyes, and replied, "There's no need to tell him, then, is there?"
Mother and daughter looked daggers at each other. Finally Molly grated out, "I'll just leave you two to it, then, shall I?" She turned and left; she'd never even got as far as stating the reason she had come.
Ginny let out a long breath and sank onto the sofa. She couldn't bear to look at Harry, but at last he broke the silence. "Why did you tell her that, Ginny?"
Reluctantly, Ginny raised her eyes to meet his. "At the time, it seemed better to let her think what she wanted, than to tell her the truth. I think I may have carried it a bit far, though. Oh, God…" She broke off and buried her face in her hands. She could feel the backs of her eyes begin to burn, as the reality of the situation sunk in. She felt the sofa cushion next to her sag, as Harry sat down beside her and put a hand on her shoulder.
"I've really bolloxed things up now, haven't I?" she said through her hands. "You see, things have been, well, complicated between my mother and me for a while now. And now I've gone and made it much worse. But really, she should know me better than to think I just randomly bring men back to my house…"
Harry took her wrists and brought her hands away from her face. She caught her breath, as he cupped a hand under her chin and brought her face up to meet his gaze. Gently he raised a thumb and wiped away a traitorous tear that had begun to slide down her cheek. "Maybe," Harry said quietly, "she was thinking more of my reputation than yours."
This was likely true, Ginny realised. Her mother read Witch Weekly almost religiously, although Molly claimed it was just for the recipes. If half the articles that had appeared on Harry were to be believed, he was a notorious playboy. Unfortunately, Molly seemed to have learned nothing from the Rita Skeeter fiasco several years ago and subscribed to the idea that if something appeared in print it must be true.
The silence stretched out between them, as Ginny stared into Harry's eyes. God, they were so green, she thought. A girl could drown in them. Finally, she was able to find her voice. "If you don't mind, I think I'd like to get dressed now, before anyone else turns up and starts jumping to conclusions." And she escaped into the bathroom.
She emerged from the shower, feeling somewhat refreshed, but not better about the scene with Molly. She hated the idea of anyone perceiving her as weak, and now she had managed to appear just so, not only in front of her mother, but in front of Harry, as well. She quickly performed a dessicatum spell to dry her bright hair, brushed it and tied it back. Tying on her dressing gown, she moved to the bedroom, calling out to Harry, "the bathroom's free, if you'd like a shower. I laid out a towel for you."
"Think I will, thanks."
Ginny heard the water running in the bathroom not long afterwards, as she chose a pair of old shorts and a T-shirt to wear. It was Sunday, her free day, and normally she would have been out already, puttering around her flower beds. She had let the weeds go too long, and she knew she needed to get at them. Suddenly, she remembered why her mother had come over that morning. She had promised Molly she'd divide some of her flowers which would bloom later in the summer and give Molly the divisions for her own garden. The thought did not improve her mood.
She went out to the living room and waited for Harry to finish in the bathroom. He joined her not long after, having showered and removed the beard stubble from his face with an imberbus spell. He had had no choice but to put on his creased dress robes once more, however. Ginny drew out her wand, pointed it at Harry's robes and muttered, "Repasso." Immediately, they appeared freshly ironed. "There, that's much better," she said.
"I've been going over the situation in my mind," Harry began, "and I can't help but find it extremely odd. You say nothing's missing, and yet someone went to an incredible amount of bother to break in here. I have to draw the conclusion that this was meant as some kind of warning. It must have been known you'd be out most of the day yesterday, but yet whoever broke in here waited until late at night to do so. It's as if they wanted to be caught. Or to catch you alone."
Ginny caught her breath. "But why? That's what I don't understand. I haven't done anything to anyone. And it's not as if I hold an influential position at the Ministry…"
"At the moment the most important thing is to put the wards back on this house. Make it harder for them to come back. Let's get it done. I can give you a hand if you like."
They went out through the kitchen into the garden. In one corner was a bed of magical plants that were useful in making potions, but the bulk of the garden was purely decorative. Oriental poppies were just beginning to put their spectacular but short-lived show. There were irises, campanulas and lupines in bloom. Peonies and roses scented the air. There was a seemingly infinite variety of other plants that had not yet reached their flowering stage but would assure colour throughout the rest of the summer and into autumn.
"Ginny," said Harry, sounding rather impressed, "did you plant all this yourself?"
"No," replied Ginny, "some of it was here when I moved in. I've just added to it."
"It looks like an awful lot of work." Harry had been enlisted to do the yard work often enough in his childhood to understand what an undertaking a large-scale flower garden could be.
"If you do it Muggle-fashion, perhaps, but if you use magic, it's not so bad. I should do some weeding today. I usually get things done on Sundays."
"I'll help you cast the wards, and then I'll let you get to it, then."
Casting protective wards was strenuous business. It required a great deal of concentration and consumed a lot of magical energy. If it could be accomplished by more than one witch or wizard, the process was a lot less tiring and the resulting wards were stronger. Harry moved to one side of the garden and Ginny to the opposite side. Both raised their wands and on the count of three cried, "Protegio!" It was then necessary for them to focus their energy for five full minutes until the spell was complete. There was a brief scintillation in the air which signalled that the wards were back in place.
"There," said Ginny at last, sinking down onto a bench, "that should do it."
Harry joined her on the bench. "Are you going to be all right here by yourself?" he asked.
"I should be. With the protection back up anyone would have a hard time getting back in."
"I could stay if you like."
"Taken a liking to my sofa, have you? No, I'll be okay until tomorrow, and then I can have a look at the files in the office and see if there are any clues to be found there."
"I'll come in to the Ministry tomorrow and see what you've found."
"Technically, I'm not supposed to show our files to anyone from outside the Ministry. You're going to have to be discreet."
"Then I'll come on the pretext of taking you to lunch."
"It'll be a late lunch. Ms. Hopkirk's lunch hour is from 1 to 2, but she usually never bothers to come back in until 3. I'll have to stay in the office during that time. But if you come in around 1:30, we should have plenty of time to have a look at the files."
"I'll do that then." Suddenly, Harry moved closer to her on the bench. "Before I leave, there's a bit of unfinished business to attend to. I meant to do this last night, but we were interrupted." He took Ginny's face in his hands. She barely had the time to gasp when his lips met hers. The kiss was soft at first but quickly deepened, as Harry threaded his fingers through her hair. An indeterminate amount of time passed, but at last Harry broke off the kiss.
"Until tomorrow, then." Quickly, he brushed his lips against her forehead and rose to leave. Ginny was speechless as she watched him walk around to the front of the house, where he would be able to Disapparate from the road. She had no idea how long she sat there, waiting for her breathing to return to normal and her heart-rate to slow. It seemed to her the clock had turned back ten years, back to the time when she had had an embarrassing crush on Harry. She cringed inwardly, thinking about the blushes and clumsiness she had experienced whenever he was around. She knew that it wouldn't take much for all that to start over again… if indeed it hadn't already. She swore to herself. Just what right did Harry Potter have to possess the power to turn her into a quivering puddle of blancmange when ever he was around?
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