From Across the Great Divide, Chapter 5
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.
Harry dropped the black envelope in his hand, but not quickly enough. It had burst into flame, singeing his fingers. At his side, Ginny took a staggering step backwards, swaying against him. Instinctively, he put an arm around her waist to steady her. His eyes remained riveted on the Dark Mark hovering in the air before their shocked faces. He found his voice at last and turned to Ginny, who looked as if she were biting down hard on her lower lip to keep it from trembling. "Ginny, unlock the door. Let’s get inside."
As Ginny drew her wand and muttered the spell, which would unlock the door, Harry pulled out his own wand and waved it at the ghastly smoky image in an attempt to disperse it. It was in vain; the hideous skull seemed to glow at him mockingly. He stooped quickly and picked up his bag and Hedwig’s cage. Ginny had already gone inside.
He found her on the living room sofa, leaning forward on her knees, the heel of her hand pressed to her mouth. She might have been biting down on her hand; in the faint light of the candle she had lit it was hard for him to tell. Setting down his things, he walked over to sit next to her on the sofa and pulled her into his arms. She laid her head against his chest, and he pressed his cheek to the top of her head, as he gently stroked her back in what he hoped was a soothing manner.
"What do they want, Harry?" she asked in a shaky voice.
"I don’t know." It was the only reply he wanted give her. To himself he said, "At the very least, someone wants to scare her. At worst…" The worst didn’t bear thinking about.
"Could it possibly be…"
"Voldemort? I think I’d have known if it were. I’d have had warning." Harry pushed back his fringe to show her his scar, which was thin and white and very nearly imperceptible now. It had been that way ever since Voldemort’s defeat. Before that time it had been much more noticeable, often throbbing, angry and red.
Wishing he could tell her more, he recounted what George had told him about increasing dark activity in Europe. "I think he knows more about it, but he can’t say any more. We’ve done what we can. The Department of Mysteries is on the case now. They’ll get to the bottom of this, I’m sure of it. The most important thing now is to make sure you’re safe."
Ginny pulled back from him at this. "And the best way to do that is for you to move in here? Harry, I don’t…"
"Do you want to stay here by yourself after what’s just happened?" Harry broke in.
She looked hard at him. "No," she admitted. Her tone was grudging.
"Then I’m here for as long as you need me."
Slowly, she sat back so that she leaned against him. His arm settled around her shoulders. They sat for a while in silence until he felt her head slump over onto his shoulder. Looking down, Harry saw that her eyes had closed. He took out his wand and Summoned a pillow from her bedroom. Placing the pillow at the end of the sofa, he carefully eased his body back into a reclining position. He reached behind him to extinguish the candle, plunging the room into darkness, before removing his glasses. He lay there, cradling her on his chest, but it was a long time before sleep claimed him.
Harry’s mind seemed determined to slip back in time to his sixth year at Hogwarts…
He stared at the parchment in front of him with a rising sense of panic. He had to finish this essay for the next day’s Potion’s class, and he hadn’t written a single word yet. He had no desire whatsoever to do homework this evening, but he’d procrastinated long enough. For once, he didn’t even have Ron here to commiserate with. Ron, in a completely surprising turn of events, had done this essay on the relative merits of various Sleeping Draughts a few days ago. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Hermione had promised him some reward or other in exchange for doing his homework ahead of time. At any rate, Ron had been much more keen on getting his lessons done on time these days. Harry was sure he was off with Hermione somewhere, as neither one of them had been seen in the Common Room since supper.
This left Harry to occupy their usual table by himself. He’d sat down to force himself to write over an hour ago, but his parchment was still blank. He knew the hour would be quite late before he’d written the required two rolls. He gritted his teeth, dipped his quill into his ink bottle, and began scrawling words in as large a hand as he thought he could get away with.
He hadn’t written two sentences when the sound of laughter invaded his consciousness. He looked up, glancing around the Common Room, thankful for any interruption. His gaze finally settled on a group of fifth-year girls sitting by the fire, chatting merrily. Ginny was among them, and he was sure that it was her laughter that had penetrated his thoughts. His breath caught in his throat, as he watched her, fascinated. She was talking animatedly, her small hands gesturing, as she recounted some silly story or other to her friends. There was another burst of laughter, and she joined in, the light of the fire reflecting off her hair in a myriad of reds. Harry felt his heart begin to pound. When had she grown so beautiful?
Suddenly, Ginny turned her head in his direction. Their eyes met across the room, their gazes holding for an instant. Harry swallowed, as he felt an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach. He recognised the feeling. He’d experienced it in his third and fourth years whenever he’d looked at Cho Chang. And yet there was something different about it this time. This was coming from a much deeper place within him that it ever had with Cho. That it was Ginny, Ron’s little sister, provoking this reaction from him came as a shock. He knew that from this day forward, he’d never look on her as merely Ron’s little sister again. No, from now on, she would be Ginny, a person in her own right, one he should have taken time to get to know as such. And she was a beautiful girl… not even a girl, he told himself, almost a woman now. She’d celebrated her sixteenth birthday recently; she would come of age next year…
Harry looked down at his essay again, unable to concentrate on Potions. He couldn’t afford this sort of distraction. He knew that if he showed any sort of interest in Ginny or any other girl, it would make her a potential target for Voldemort. His blood ran cold at the idea of Ginny falling into the cruel hands of the Death Eaters. He had seen first-hand what they were capable of. A quick and painless death by the Avada Kedavra curse was the least of it. If anything like that ever happened to Ginny… The idea just didn’t bear thinking about.
He’d been distancing himself from Ron and Hermione for a while now, in hopes of sparing them the worst if he possibly could. He was already relatively distanced from Ginny, since he’d never taken much notice of her until now… Until now at the worst possible time. He’d just have to keep this to himself. He could never let on to anyone about this. He told himself these feelings would go away eventually. His feelings for Cho had. He chose to ignore the voice in his head that insisted on reminding him of the exact circumstances that led to this: the association with Cedric had had a great deal to do with it.
He couldn’t resist stealing another glance in the direction of the fireplace. Ginny was still laughing with her friends. Harry had to force himself to look back down at his Potions essay. It would do him no good to betray his feelings by being caught staring. This was a burden he would have to bear in silence. He made himself start writing again. Perhaps he’d have his chance once Voldemort was defeated. For now, he would just have to keep repeating to himself that ensuring Ginny’s safety must be placed ahead of all other considerations.
He never noticed when Ginny and her friends left the Common Room for the night. He’d finally succeeded in concentrating long enough to fill two rolls of parchment in spite of being haunted the entire evening by mental images of Ginny. He kept seeing the firelight reflect in her hair, the animated way she had of telling a story, her smile when she laughed, the way her eyes seemed to spark at him when they’d met his own. He found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss her…He shook himself for the hundredth time. He had no idea whether he’d written a coherent essay or merely a load of gibberish. He couldn’t be bothered now to read it through and see. Looking at his watch, he saw that it was 2 AM. He had a vague recollection of Ron and Hermione saying good night to him an hour or so earlier, but he’d fairly ignored them. With a sigh, he stood and left the now deserted Common Room, headed for the sixth-year boys’ dormitory and his bed. But it was a long time before sleep claimed him, troubled as he was by these new thoughts of Ginny.
His thought drifted ahead in time to Voldemort’s ultimate defeat. The final two years had been filled with too much personal loss to allow him to celebrate with the rest of the wizarding world. He had lost friends and mentors. Grimly, he thought of each one. Hagrid. Dumbledore. Remus. Sirius. Snape, for whom he had developed a grudging respect before the end. Even Malfoy, who, although they had never been friends, had found the courage to defy his father. He had been too full of grief and had walked away from it all. He had lived as a Muggle for two years, maintaining no contact with the wizarding world; he hadn’t even let Ron and Hermione know where he was. As much as he had needed that time to heal, he had always second-guessed that choice when it came to Ginny. He had wondered if, by turning his back on it all, he had lost his chance with her. Now it seemed he was getting a second chance, and he was determined not to lose this one, as well.
*
Harry must have fallen asleep at some point, because he awoke in the half-light of dawn. He shifted slightly, stiff from having lain so long in the same position with Ginny on top of him. As he looked down at her, he saw her eyelids flutter. Finally, she raised her head. She blinked at him, obviously disoriented. "We fell asleep," he said with a fleeting smile.
"What’s the time?" she asked, yawning and pushing herself up into a sitting position.
"It’s early. Maybe you should go get some proper sleep."
"Tempting as that sounds, I have to go to work later. I’ll just have to drink loads of coffee."
In the end, in spite of having risen early, Ginny was hard pressed to get ready for work on time. Harry felt rather responsible for this, but it couldn’t be helped. Beyond the normal morning activities of showering, dressing and eating breakfast (Ginny, obviously ravenous from having missed supper the night before, had made a very large one), there were all sorts of logistical problems to be worked out. Ginny had to find space in her wardrobe for Harry to store his clothes, and space had to be made for Hedwig’s cage. Hedwig was quite old now and had been in a state of semi-retirement for the past few years, but Harry would never dream of insulting her by acquiring a new post owl. Then there were the sleeping arrangements to be decided. It was out of the question for Harry to pass another restless night on Ginny’s sofa, but Harry hit on an ingenious solution and transfigured it into a Muggle-style sofa bed. The final detail to be worked out involved Ginny’s front door. It had been charmed to respond to her voice alone, but now it had to be charmed to recognise Harry’s voice, as well, so that he could come and go as he pleased while Ginny was at work.
Once they had sorted all this out, the hand on Ginny’s watch was starting to lean towards "you’re late" in a rather threatening manner. Harry accompanied her out into the road, noting in passing that the Dark Mark had finally dissipated on its own.
"What time do you think you’ll be home tonight?" he asked before she Disapparated.
"Not as late as last night, I hope, but don’t expect me before 10."
"I’ll see what I can do about supper, then."
"All right. See you tonight." And she disappeared before his eyes.
Harry turned back to the cottage. The first item on his agenda was to check the wards and make sure they were still solidly in place. This done, he cast them again, anyway. If nothing else, they would be reinforced. Then he had to take a break, while he considered what else could be done to improve security. Looking into the distance, he could see Hogwarts castle looming on its cliffs. He had not been back there since he’d finished school, but today, he thought, he would go back. He would take a page out of Hermione’s book and do some research in the library.
He went into the cottage and rummaged around until he had found a piece of parchment, quill and ink. He dashed off a rapid note, addressed it to Professor Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress, and went to Hedwig’s cage: he still used Hedwig for such easy postal errands. Attaching the note to Hedwig’s leg, he went to the door and sent her on her way. In half an hour she was back with an answer, and Harry set off on foot towards Hogwarts.
He passed through the village of Hogsmeade, surprised in a sense to see how little the village had changed, now that he saw it in daylight, since his school days. The same shops were all still there: Zonko’s, Honeyduke’s, Gladrags, the post office. The only thing missing on this weekday were crowds of black-robed Hogwarts students merrily making the rounds in groups of friends. He passed by one shop that sold post owls among other things. Through the open door he caught snatches of an argument between a customer and the shop’s owner. The argument seemed to revolve around a dead owl. Next to this shop was a grocery, and he made a mental note to stop in on the way back and see if he could pick up something for supper. Or perhaps he’d stop at the Three Broomsticks and ask if they’d make him some take-away.
It was nearly noon when Harry climbed the steps to the main door of Hogwarts. He met Headmistress McGonagall in the entrance hall. She approached him with a broad smile that he would never have seen on her face during his school days. "Harry! So nice to see you after all this time. Please, come along, we’ll have lunch in my office."
Harry returned her smile and shook her hand. It was definitely an odd feeling to be greeted by a former teacher as a friend and equal. As they stepped towards the marble staircase, Harry caught a brief glimpse of the Great Hall, where the rest of the school had already assembled for the midday meal. He thought he saw a familiar flash of red hair: Charlie Weasley had taken over for Hagrid as Care of Magical Creatures teacher.
After a pleasant lunch with the headmistress, during which Gryffindor’s prospects at winning the Quidditch Cup were thoroughly dissected, Harry headed for the library. By now, afternoon classes were in session, and he was assured of having several hours to do research on protection spells. He thought if he could find a good one to use on Ginny, they both might be able to rest easier.
The afternoon was drawing on, and he still hadn’t found exactly what he wanted. He had a book or two left to look through, but he feared his quiet time in the library was running out. The bell signalling the end of classes had just sounded, and he knew that students would soon be filtering in to get a start on their homework. He wondered if he’d be allowed to take a few books back to Ginny’s cottage with him. He was just getting ready to pack up his things and ask Madam Pince if he could borrow the books, when he heard someone approach. He looked up and saw Charlie Weasley, who was dressed in a decidedly un-professor-like manner. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt with a red-moustached Muggle cartoon character on it. The slogan on the shirt read, "Dragons is so stupid!"
"Harry!" he said in a voice loud enough to draw a sharp look from Madam Pince. "What brings you to Hogwarts? Professor McGonagall told me you were here, thought I’d say hello."
Harry was a bit annoyed. After all, he’d just seen Charlie over the weekend. "Oh, just thought I’d have a look around. Old time’s sake."
"In the library? I’d believe that if you were Hermione, but…"
"I thought I’d look up a thing or two while I was at it." Harry winced slightly. It didn’t sound very convincing. "Do you know if Madam Pince will let me borrow these?" he asked indicating the books, and crossing his fingers in hopes that Charlie wouldn’t ask too many sticky questions. Given a choice, Harry would have told Charlie about the situation with Ginny, but he decided he’d rather not face the consequences of his telling another member of her family behind her back. He had no doubt she would use the Transmogrifian Torture on him next time.
"I’m sure she will if you promise to bring them back. Otherwise, she might try to chain you up with the manacles in Filch’s office."
"Does he still have those?"
"Yeah, still polishes them on a regular basis, too, from what I hear. Tell you what, let me sign out the books for you. Should be no problem then."
Harry was reluctant to let Charlie see what exactly he had been researching, but in the end he didn’t have much choice. If Charlie noticed the books’ subject, he made no comment. He shook hands with Charlie, took his books and set off towards Hogsmeade again.
On the way back to Ginny’s he stopped at the grocer’s and bought some food. He had noticed that Ginny didn’t have very much in the house, although it didn’t seem she ate there very often anyway. He also picked up a bottle of wine, before heading for the Three Broomsticks for take-away. He was able to cook a few simple things like breakfast, but he decided he’d better get something better than a fry-up for supper, if they were going to have wine with it.
Harry dragged his purchases back to Ginny’s cottage and let himself in. A quick glance around showed nothing untoward had happened in his absence. He put the food away in the kitchen and settled into an armchair with his books. He still had a few hours before he expected Ginny to return from work, and he decided to pass the time completing his research. By half past nine, he closed the book he was reading in frustration. He felt he was no further ahead in finding an appropriate protection spell than he had been that morning. It seemed that every spell he’d come across that might actually do some good promised dire consequences if a mistake were made. Harry decided he’d rather not risk doing anything that might harm Ginny.
He looked at his watch and realised Ginny would be home soon. He went back to the kitchen, set the table for dinner, and opened the bottle of wine to let it breathe. He then set about making a salad from the produce he’d got at the grocer’s and slicing a loaf of crusty bread. He had just finished putting a Heating Charm on the chicken pie he’d picked up at the Three Broomsticks and setting it on the back of the stove to keep warm, when he heard a noise at the front door. He poured two glasses of wine and took them into the living room as Ginny came through the door.
She seemed startled for a split second, as if she had not expected to see him there. This was likely the case, Harry reasoned. Ginny was used to coming home to an empty house. Her face was wan and there were dark shadows under her eyes, but she gave him a shy grin by way of greeting.
"You look tired, Gin. Come sit down and put your feet up," Harry said, handing her a glass of wine.
Ginny sank onto the sofa and took a grateful sip from her glass. Her eyes widened. "This is delicious. Just what I need." She sniffed the air. "Supper smells nice, too. Did you hire a chef, or do you have talents I don’t know about?"
Harry sat down beside her, and it seemed natural for him to lay his arm across the back of the sofa. Ginny made no protest. In fact, she settled in against him and put her feet on the coffee table. "I got some take-away from the Three Broomsticks this afternoon. I’ve just re-heated it. I’m afraid you’ve already seen the extent of my culinary talents."
"So what did you do with yourself all day, while I was slaving away at the Ministry?"
Harry wondered how much he should tell her. He thought it might be better to wait until he’d found what he was looking for before telling her about the protection spell. But then Ginny noticed the books from the Hogwarts library.
"Where did these come from?"
Now he’d have to tell her. "I decided to go up to Hogwarts and have a look in the library. See what I could find."
Ginny looked at one of the book’s titles. "Protection spells, Harry? Do you really think that’s necessary?"
"Couldn’t hurt," was his non-committal answer. "I saw Charlie while I was there," he added, hoping to change the subject.
"What did you tell him?" she asked in a rather suspicious tone.
"Nothing, Ginny, I’ve learned my lesson. I’d really rather not be on the receiving end of the Transmogrifian Torture," he added with a teasing grin.
Ginny slapped his knee, barely managing to suppress her own smile. "Stop that, you. Let’s eat. I’m starved."
As they ate their supper and sipped at their wine, Ginny told Harry about the doings at Ministry. It seemed her boss had not been idle in spreading rumours about the two, and Ginny had caught several Ministry employees giving her knowing looks. "Why can’t people just mind their own business?" she complained. She drained her glass. Harry noticed her cheeks were tinged with red, but whether this was an effect of the wine she’d been drinking or embarrassment over being the centre of gossip, he could not tell. Suddenly, there came a howling sort of noise from the garden.
Harry started and exclaimed, "What was that?"
Surprisingly enough, Ginny giggled. "Oh, those were just my lupines, I expect."
"Lupines?"
"Yes, lupines. Didn’t you ever pay attention in Herbology? They’re a kind of flower. Muggles often grow them, but mine are magical. When they’re in bloom and there’s a full moon, the flowers transform into little wolves’ heads and they howl." Another howl sounded from the garden.
"Doesn’t that get annoying?"
"Oh, they only bloom for about three weeks. They’re perennials, silly, they don’t bloom all the time," she added, as if this should have been perfectly obvious. "Some years they aren’t even in bloom during the full moon, and they don’t howl at all. Come on, I’ll show you."
She got up from the table, grabbed his hand, and led him out into the garden. The full moon could be seen just rising from behind the surrounding mountains. Along a low wall at the very back of the garden, grew a border entirely made up of white flowers, designed to show up especially well in the moonlight. The contrast of the white with the surrounding darkness made the flowers seem to fairly glow. In the faint light, the lupines could been seen mixed in with the other plants, each cluster of what in the daylight would be tiny white blooms transformed into a tiny wolf’s head which howled up at the moon, surrounded by star shaped leaves. The effect was rather eerie, yet somehow beautiful at the same time.
Harry looked down and saw that she still held his hand in hers. When he looked toward Ginny’s face again, he saw that she was looking up at him. Their gazes locked, and a current seemed to flow through their joined hands. Slowly, Harry brought up his free hand to touch her cheek, and then he leaned down and kissed her. He felt Ginny lean closer, bringing a hand up to the back of his neck. As the kiss deepened, he felt Ginny respond with increasing enthusiasm. She stood up on the tips of her toes, as if she could not press close enough to him. Harry broke the kiss, but it was only to move his lips to her neck, which caused her to tilt her head back in order to allow him greater access. He felt her shiver against him as he hit on a particularly sensitive spot. He found her lips again, and for a while time ceased to exist.
When a semblance of coherent thought returned to his mind, it was the unfortunate realisation that he needed to stop soon before he lost control. His desire for her had reached an almost painful stage, but he did not want to make the mistake of rushing things. The last thing he wanted was for her to have the impression that he considered her another of his conquests. He had already waited a long time for her and was willing to wait longer if he had to. With that in mind, he finally broke off their kiss, putting a hand behind her head and settling it against his chest. He held her like that a while longer, breathing in her scent, which closely resembled the perfume of the flowers in her garden, before taking her hand and leading her back into the house.
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.
Harry dropped the black envelope in his hand, but not quickly enough. It had burst into flame, singeing his fingers. At his side, Ginny took a staggering step backwards, swaying against him. Instinctively, he put an arm around her waist to steady her. His eyes remained riveted on the Dark Mark hovering in the air before their shocked faces. He found his voice at last and turned to Ginny, who looked as if she were biting down hard on her lower lip to keep it from trembling. "Ginny, unlock the door. Let’s get inside."
As Ginny drew her wand and muttered the spell, which would unlock the door, Harry pulled out his own wand and waved it at the ghastly smoky image in an attempt to disperse it. It was in vain; the hideous skull seemed to glow at him mockingly. He stooped quickly and picked up his bag and Hedwig’s cage. Ginny had already gone inside.
He found her on the living room sofa, leaning forward on her knees, the heel of her hand pressed to her mouth. She might have been biting down on her hand; in the faint light of the candle she had lit it was hard for him to tell. Setting down his things, he walked over to sit next to her on the sofa and pulled her into his arms. She laid her head against his chest, and he pressed his cheek to the top of her head, as he gently stroked her back in what he hoped was a soothing manner.
"What do they want, Harry?" she asked in a shaky voice.
"I don’t know." It was the only reply he wanted give her. To himself he said, "At the very least, someone wants to scare her. At worst…" The worst didn’t bear thinking about.
"Could it possibly be…"
"Voldemort? I think I’d have known if it were. I’d have had warning." Harry pushed back his fringe to show her his scar, which was thin and white and very nearly imperceptible now. It had been that way ever since Voldemort’s defeat. Before that time it had been much more noticeable, often throbbing, angry and red.
Wishing he could tell her more, he recounted what George had told him about increasing dark activity in Europe. "I think he knows more about it, but he can’t say any more. We’ve done what we can. The Department of Mysteries is on the case now. They’ll get to the bottom of this, I’m sure of it. The most important thing now is to make sure you’re safe."
Ginny pulled back from him at this. "And the best way to do that is for you to move in here? Harry, I don’t…"
"Do you want to stay here by yourself after what’s just happened?" Harry broke in.
She looked hard at him. "No," she admitted. Her tone was grudging.
"Then I’m here for as long as you need me."
Slowly, she sat back so that she leaned against him. His arm settled around her shoulders. They sat for a while in silence until he felt her head slump over onto his shoulder. Looking down, Harry saw that her eyes had closed. He took out his wand and Summoned a pillow from her bedroom. Placing the pillow at the end of the sofa, he carefully eased his body back into a reclining position. He reached behind him to extinguish the candle, plunging the room into darkness, before removing his glasses. He lay there, cradling her on his chest, but it was a long time before sleep claimed him.
Harry’s mind seemed determined to slip back in time to his sixth year at Hogwarts…
He stared at the parchment in front of him with a rising sense of panic. He had to finish this essay for the next day’s Potion’s class, and he hadn’t written a single word yet. He had no desire whatsoever to do homework this evening, but he’d procrastinated long enough. For once, he didn’t even have Ron here to commiserate with. Ron, in a completely surprising turn of events, had done this essay on the relative merits of various Sleeping Draughts a few days ago. Harry had a sneaking suspicion that Hermione had promised him some reward or other in exchange for doing his homework ahead of time. At any rate, Ron had been much more keen on getting his lessons done on time these days. Harry was sure he was off with Hermione somewhere, as neither one of them had been seen in the Common Room since supper.
This left Harry to occupy their usual table by himself. He’d sat down to force himself to write over an hour ago, but his parchment was still blank. He knew the hour would be quite late before he’d written the required two rolls. He gritted his teeth, dipped his quill into his ink bottle, and began scrawling words in as large a hand as he thought he could get away with.
He hadn’t written two sentences when the sound of laughter invaded his consciousness. He looked up, glancing around the Common Room, thankful for any interruption. His gaze finally settled on a group of fifth-year girls sitting by the fire, chatting merrily. Ginny was among them, and he was sure that it was her laughter that had penetrated his thoughts. His breath caught in his throat, as he watched her, fascinated. She was talking animatedly, her small hands gesturing, as she recounted some silly story or other to her friends. There was another burst of laughter, and she joined in, the light of the fire reflecting off her hair in a myriad of reds. Harry felt his heart begin to pound. When had she grown so beautiful?
Suddenly, Ginny turned her head in his direction. Their eyes met across the room, their gazes holding for an instant. Harry swallowed, as he felt an odd sensation in the pit of his stomach. He recognised the feeling. He’d experienced it in his third and fourth years whenever he’d looked at Cho Chang. And yet there was something different about it this time. This was coming from a much deeper place within him that it ever had with Cho. That it was Ginny, Ron’s little sister, provoking this reaction from him came as a shock. He knew that from this day forward, he’d never look on her as merely Ron’s little sister again. No, from now on, she would be Ginny, a person in her own right, one he should have taken time to get to know as such. And she was a beautiful girl… not even a girl, he told himself, almost a woman now. She’d celebrated her sixteenth birthday recently; she would come of age next year…
Harry looked down at his essay again, unable to concentrate on Potions. He couldn’t afford this sort of distraction. He knew that if he showed any sort of interest in Ginny or any other girl, it would make her a potential target for Voldemort. His blood ran cold at the idea of Ginny falling into the cruel hands of the Death Eaters. He had seen first-hand what they were capable of. A quick and painless death by the Avada Kedavra curse was the least of it. If anything like that ever happened to Ginny… The idea just didn’t bear thinking about.
He’d been distancing himself from Ron and Hermione for a while now, in hopes of sparing them the worst if he possibly could. He was already relatively distanced from Ginny, since he’d never taken much notice of her until now… Until now at the worst possible time. He’d just have to keep this to himself. He could never let on to anyone about this. He told himself these feelings would go away eventually. His feelings for Cho had. He chose to ignore the voice in his head that insisted on reminding him of the exact circumstances that led to this: the association with Cedric had had a great deal to do with it.
He couldn’t resist stealing another glance in the direction of the fireplace. Ginny was still laughing with her friends. Harry had to force himself to look back down at his Potions essay. It would do him no good to betray his feelings by being caught staring. This was a burden he would have to bear in silence. He made himself start writing again. Perhaps he’d have his chance once Voldemort was defeated. For now, he would just have to keep repeating to himself that ensuring Ginny’s safety must be placed ahead of all other considerations.
He never noticed when Ginny and her friends left the Common Room for the night. He’d finally succeeded in concentrating long enough to fill two rolls of parchment in spite of being haunted the entire evening by mental images of Ginny. He kept seeing the firelight reflect in her hair, the animated way she had of telling a story, her smile when she laughed, the way her eyes seemed to spark at him when they’d met his own. He found himself wondering what it would be like to kiss her…He shook himself for the hundredth time. He had no idea whether he’d written a coherent essay or merely a load of gibberish. He couldn’t be bothered now to read it through and see. Looking at his watch, he saw that it was 2 AM. He had a vague recollection of Ron and Hermione saying good night to him an hour or so earlier, but he’d fairly ignored them. With a sigh, he stood and left the now deserted Common Room, headed for the sixth-year boys’ dormitory and his bed. But it was a long time before sleep claimed him, troubled as he was by these new thoughts of Ginny.
His thought drifted ahead in time to Voldemort’s ultimate defeat. The final two years had been filled with too much personal loss to allow him to celebrate with the rest of the wizarding world. He had lost friends and mentors. Grimly, he thought of each one. Hagrid. Dumbledore. Remus. Sirius. Snape, for whom he had developed a grudging respect before the end. Even Malfoy, who, although they had never been friends, had found the courage to defy his father. He had been too full of grief and had walked away from it all. He had lived as a Muggle for two years, maintaining no contact with the wizarding world; he hadn’t even let Ron and Hermione know where he was. As much as he had needed that time to heal, he had always second-guessed that choice when it came to Ginny. He had wondered if, by turning his back on it all, he had lost his chance with her. Now it seemed he was getting a second chance, and he was determined not to lose this one, as well.
*
Harry must have fallen asleep at some point, because he awoke in the half-light of dawn. He shifted slightly, stiff from having lain so long in the same position with Ginny on top of him. As he looked down at her, he saw her eyelids flutter. Finally, she raised her head. She blinked at him, obviously disoriented. "We fell asleep," he said with a fleeting smile.
"What’s the time?" she asked, yawning and pushing herself up into a sitting position.
"It’s early. Maybe you should go get some proper sleep."
"Tempting as that sounds, I have to go to work later. I’ll just have to drink loads of coffee."
In the end, in spite of having risen early, Ginny was hard pressed to get ready for work on time. Harry felt rather responsible for this, but it couldn’t be helped. Beyond the normal morning activities of showering, dressing and eating breakfast (Ginny, obviously ravenous from having missed supper the night before, had made a very large one), there were all sorts of logistical problems to be worked out. Ginny had to find space in her wardrobe for Harry to store his clothes, and space had to be made for Hedwig’s cage. Hedwig was quite old now and had been in a state of semi-retirement for the past few years, but Harry would never dream of insulting her by acquiring a new post owl. Then there were the sleeping arrangements to be decided. It was out of the question for Harry to pass another restless night on Ginny’s sofa, but Harry hit on an ingenious solution and transfigured it into a Muggle-style sofa bed. The final detail to be worked out involved Ginny’s front door. It had been charmed to respond to her voice alone, but now it had to be charmed to recognise Harry’s voice, as well, so that he could come and go as he pleased while Ginny was at work.
Once they had sorted all this out, the hand on Ginny’s watch was starting to lean towards "you’re late" in a rather threatening manner. Harry accompanied her out into the road, noting in passing that the Dark Mark had finally dissipated on its own.
"What time do you think you’ll be home tonight?" he asked before she Disapparated.
"Not as late as last night, I hope, but don’t expect me before 10."
"I’ll see what I can do about supper, then."
"All right. See you tonight." And she disappeared before his eyes.
Harry turned back to the cottage. The first item on his agenda was to check the wards and make sure they were still solidly in place. This done, he cast them again, anyway. If nothing else, they would be reinforced. Then he had to take a break, while he considered what else could be done to improve security. Looking into the distance, he could see Hogwarts castle looming on its cliffs. He had not been back there since he’d finished school, but today, he thought, he would go back. He would take a page out of Hermione’s book and do some research in the library.
He went into the cottage and rummaged around until he had found a piece of parchment, quill and ink. He dashed off a rapid note, addressed it to Professor Minerva McGonagall, Headmistress, and went to Hedwig’s cage: he still used Hedwig for such easy postal errands. Attaching the note to Hedwig’s leg, he went to the door and sent her on her way. In half an hour she was back with an answer, and Harry set off on foot towards Hogwarts.
He passed through the village of Hogsmeade, surprised in a sense to see how little the village had changed, now that he saw it in daylight, since his school days. The same shops were all still there: Zonko’s, Honeyduke’s, Gladrags, the post office. The only thing missing on this weekday were crowds of black-robed Hogwarts students merrily making the rounds in groups of friends. He passed by one shop that sold post owls among other things. Through the open door he caught snatches of an argument between a customer and the shop’s owner. The argument seemed to revolve around a dead owl. Next to this shop was a grocery, and he made a mental note to stop in on the way back and see if he could pick up something for supper. Or perhaps he’d stop at the Three Broomsticks and ask if they’d make him some take-away.
It was nearly noon when Harry climbed the steps to the main door of Hogwarts. He met Headmistress McGonagall in the entrance hall. She approached him with a broad smile that he would never have seen on her face during his school days. "Harry! So nice to see you after all this time. Please, come along, we’ll have lunch in my office."
Harry returned her smile and shook her hand. It was definitely an odd feeling to be greeted by a former teacher as a friend and equal. As they stepped towards the marble staircase, Harry caught a brief glimpse of the Great Hall, where the rest of the school had already assembled for the midday meal. He thought he saw a familiar flash of red hair: Charlie Weasley had taken over for Hagrid as Care of Magical Creatures teacher.
After a pleasant lunch with the headmistress, during which Gryffindor’s prospects at winning the Quidditch Cup were thoroughly dissected, Harry headed for the library. By now, afternoon classes were in session, and he was assured of having several hours to do research on protection spells. He thought if he could find a good one to use on Ginny, they both might be able to rest easier.
The afternoon was drawing on, and he still hadn’t found exactly what he wanted. He had a book or two left to look through, but he feared his quiet time in the library was running out. The bell signalling the end of classes had just sounded, and he knew that students would soon be filtering in to get a start on their homework. He wondered if he’d be allowed to take a few books back to Ginny’s cottage with him. He was just getting ready to pack up his things and ask Madam Pince if he could borrow the books, when he heard someone approach. He looked up and saw Charlie Weasley, who was dressed in a decidedly un-professor-like manner. He was wearing jeans and a T-shirt with a red-moustached Muggle cartoon character on it. The slogan on the shirt read, "Dragons is so stupid!"
"Harry!" he said in a voice loud enough to draw a sharp look from Madam Pince. "What brings you to Hogwarts? Professor McGonagall told me you were here, thought I’d say hello."
Harry was a bit annoyed. After all, he’d just seen Charlie over the weekend. "Oh, just thought I’d have a look around. Old time’s sake."
"In the library? I’d believe that if you were Hermione, but…"
"I thought I’d look up a thing or two while I was at it." Harry winced slightly. It didn’t sound very convincing. "Do you know if Madam Pince will let me borrow these?" he asked indicating the books, and crossing his fingers in hopes that Charlie wouldn’t ask too many sticky questions. Given a choice, Harry would have told Charlie about the situation with Ginny, but he decided he’d rather not face the consequences of his telling another member of her family behind her back. He had no doubt she would use the Transmogrifian Torture on him next time.
"I’m sure she will if you promise to bring them back. Otherwise, she might try to chain you up with the manacles in Filch’s office."
"Does he still have those?"
"Yeah, still polishes them on a regular basis, too, from what I hear. Tell you what, let me sign out the books for you. Should be no problem then."
Harry was reluctant to let Charlie see what exactly he had been researching, but in the end he didn’t have much choice. If Charlie noticed the books’ subject, he made no comment. He shook hands with Charlie, took his books and set off towards Hogsmeade again.
On the way back to Ginny’s he stopped at the grocer’s and bought some food. He had noticed that Ginny didn’t have very much in the house, although it didn’t seem she ate there very often anyway. He also picked up a bottle of wine, before heading for the Three Broomsticks for take-away. He was able to cook a few simple things like breakfast, but he decided he’d better get something better than a fry-up for supper, if they were going to have wine with it.
Harry dragged his purchases back to Ginny’s cottage and let himself in. A quick glance around showed nothing untoward had happened in his absence. He put the food away in the kitchen and settled into an armchair with his books. He still had a few hours before he expected Ginny to return from work, and he decided to pass the time completing his research. By half past nine, he closed the book he was reading in frustration. He felt he was no further ahead in finding an appropriate protection spell than he had been that morning. It seemed that every spell he’d come across that might actually do some good promised dire consequences if a mistake were made. Harry decided he’d rather not risk doing anything that might harm Ginny.
He looked at his watch and realised Ginny would be home soon. He went back to the kitchen, set the table for dinner, and opened the bottle of wine to let it breathe. He then set about making a salad from the produce he’d got at the grocer’s and slicing a loaf of crusty bread. He had just finished putting a Heating Charm on the chicken pie he’d picked up at the Three Broomsticks and setting it on the back of the stove to keep warm, when he heard a noise at the front door. He poured two glasses of wine and took them into the living room as Ginny came through the door.
She seemed startled for a split second, as if she had not expected to see him there. This was likely the case, Harry reasoned. Ginny was used to coming home to an empty house. Her face was wan and there were dark shadows under her eyes, but she gave him a shy grin by way of greeting.
"You look tired, Gin. Come sit down and put your feet up," Harry said, handing her a glass of wine.
Ginny sank onto the sofa and took a grateful sip from her glass. Her eyes widened. "This is delicious. Just what I need." She sniffed the air. "Supper smells nice, too. Did you hire a chef, or do you have talents I don’t know about?"
Harry sat down beside her, and it seemed natural for him to lay his arm across the back of the sofa. Ginny made no protest. In fact, she settled in against him and put her feet on the coffee table. "I got some take-away from the Three Broomsticks this afternoon. I’ve just re-heated it. I’m afraid you’ve already seen the extent of my culinary talents."
"So what did you do with yourself all day, while I was slaving away at the Ministry?"
Harry wondered how much he should tell her. He thought it might be better to wait until he’d found what he was looking for before telling her about the protection spell. But then Ginny noticed the books from the Hogwarts library.
"Where did these come from?"
Now he’d have to tell her. "I decided to go up to Hogwarts and have a look in the library. See what I could find."
Ginny looked at one of the book’s titles. "Protection spells, Harry? Do you really think that’s necessary?"
"Couldn’t hurt," was his non-committal answer. "I saw Charlie while I was there," he added, hoping to change the subject.
"What did you tell him?" she asked in a rather suspicious tone.
"Nothing, Ginny, I’ve learned my lesson. I’d really rather not be on the receiving end of the Transmogrifian Torture," he added with a teasing grin.
Ginny slapped his knee, barely managing to suppress her own smile. "Stop that, you. Let’s eat. I’m starved."
As they ate their supper and sipped at their wine, Ginny told Harry about the doings at Ministry. It seemed her boss had not been idle in spreading rumours about the two, and Ginny had caught several Ministry employees giving her knowing looks. "Why can’t people just mind their own business?" she complained. She drained her glass. Harry noticed her cheeks were tinged with red, but whether this was an effect of the wine she’d been drinking or embarrassment over being the centre of gossip, he could not tell. Suddenly, there came a howling sort of noise from the garden.
Harry started and exclaimed, "What was that?"
Surprisingly enough, Ginny giggled. "Oh, those were just my lupines, I expect."
"Lupines?"
"Yes, lupines. Didn’t you ever pay attention in Herbology? They’re a kind of flower. Muggles often grow them, but mine are magical. When they’re in bloom and there’s a full moon, the flowers transform into little wolves’ heads and they howl." Another howl sounded from the garden.
"Doesn’t that get annoying?"
"Oh, they only bloom for about three weeks. They’re perennials, silly, they don’t bloom all the time," she added, as if this should have been perfectly obvious. "Some years they aren’t even in bloom during the full moon, and they don’t howl at all. Come on, I’ll show you."
She got up from the table, grabbed his hand, and led him out into the garden. The full moon could be seen just rising from behind the surrounding mountains. Along a low wall at the very back of the garden, grew a border entirely made up of white flowers, designed to show up especially well in the moonlight. The contrast of the white with the surrounding darkness made the flowers seem to fairly glow. In the faint light, the lupines could been seen mixed in with the other plants, each cluster of what in the daylight would be tiny white blooms transformed into a tiny wolf’s head which howled up at the moon, surrounded by star shaped leaves. The effect was rather eerie, yet somehow beautiful at the same time.
Harry looked down and saw that she still held his hand in hers. When he looked toward Ginny’s face again, he saw that she was looking up at him. Their gazes locked, and a current seemed to flow through their joined hands. Slowly, Harry brought up his free hand to touch her cheek, and then he leaned down and kissed her. He felt Ginny lean closer, bringing a hand up to the back of his neck. As the kiss deepened, he felt Ginny respond with increasing enthusiasm. She stood up on the tips of her toes, as if she could not press close enough to him. Harry broke the kiss, but it was only to move his lips to her neck, which caused her to tilt her head back in order to allow him greater access. He felt her shiver against him as he hit on a particularly sensitive spot. He found her lips again, and for a while time ceased to exist.
When a semblance of coherent thought returned to his mind, it was the unfortunate realisation that he needed to stop soon before he lost control. His desire for her had reached an almost painful stage, but he did not want to make the mistake of rushing things. The last thing he wanted was for her to have the impression that he considered her another of his conquests. He had already waited a long time for her and was willing to wait longer if he had to. With that in mind, he finally broke off their kiss, putting a hand behind her head and settling it against his chest. He held her like that a while longer, breathing in her scent, which closely resembled the perfume of the flowers in her garden, before taking her hand and leading her back into the house.
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