Changing Seasons fic: Redemption Song, for pumpkinpasty
Title: Redemption Song
Author: lyras
Pairing/rating: Harry/Ginny, PG-13
Warnings: implied torture
Wordcount: 5,400
Summary: Harry has been kidnapped, but it seems the real prey this time may be Ginny.
Notes: Written for the Changing Seasons exchange (look at that lovely masterlist!) for pumpkinpasty, who requested 'a postwar fic in which things don't go as expected; in which Harry and Ginny don't pick up where they left off, but rather, seem to have been caught in a limbo, a standstill, left to deal with the aftermath of war'. Here, I hope, is that story :o).
Redemption Song
Afterwards, they told Ginny that she had called Harry's name at the moment when she saw his dead body in Hagrid's arms. She had no memory of doing so; had no memory of anything except for the numbing realisation that he was gone, and that all his efforts - all their efforts - had been vain.
She heard little of the discussion that followed, and none of the taunts offered by Voldemort or the insults yelled by those around her. Instead, she concentrated on Harry, trying to take in every detail of him, from his ruffled hair, past the open mouth that would never kiss her again, down his bony frame to the worn trainers. She looked eagerly for signs of the past nine months, desperate to share his experiences in some way. Cuts and bruises spattered his arms, but at least some of those had been there before, when she'd stepped out of the tunnel and seen him, and it had been such a struggle not to run towards him and hug him the way she had done almost exactly a year before: to kiss him and let herself be kissed and god damn anyone else.
But she hadn't, and he hadn't, and now there he was. Dead; pale-skinned, pale-lipped, one lock of hair standing ridiculously on end. A hand outstretched; one leg bent awkwardly where Hagrid had lain him on the grass at Voldemort's feet.
Ginny had tried not to dream of Harry this year - at least, not in that way - but as she watched him lying there, a sense of failure overwhelmed her.
She was vaguely aware of Neville stepping forward; of Bellatrix Lestrange's screeches scraping across her consciousness. But she was too busy gathering her thoughts as she watched Harry to bother with anything else.
It wouldn't be in vain, she vowed; it would not be failure. Even if they all died now, they would eliminate Voldemort. And with any luck, they wouldn't all die. She thought of Fred, lying in the Great Hall alongside Remus and Tonks and all the others, and began to strategise furiously, considering it in the light of a Quidditch match. Her senses darted here and there as she tested ideas, but her gaze remained on Harry.
And so she heard rather than saw Neville behead Voldemort's great snake; heard Voldemort's shriek of fury; but she saw Harry move and then quickly disappear as he pulled the invisibility cloak over himself.
Ginny did not pause to think. There was nothing she could do for Harry until he chose to reveal himself. It was impossible to follow his progress; as soon as she picked up a movement, she lost him again. Whirling around, she saw Bellatrix Lestrange aiming her wand at Luna.
God, Harry, don't get killed by running into the middle of some duel, Ginny prayed as she blocked Bellatrix's curse and countered with a Bat Bogey hex.
"Oh, how sweet," Bellatrix called. "Harry Potter's little girlfriend can do baby spells! See how you like this, dearie." Her lips curved in a cruel smile and green light shot from her wand.
Ginny slipped as she dodged, but Hermione appeared and threw out a shield spell which combined with Luna's. They continued in this vein for a while, Bellatrix taunting them while sending deadly curses in their direction, the three of them responding with jinxes and hexes. It should have been easy, Ginny thought desperately as green light flashed past again, for two of them to distract her while the third stunned or bound her. But Bellatrix was too good; she had probably been fighting to the death ever since she could point a wand, and all their defensive practice could never match that.
Suddenly her mother was there, bringing a whole new level of anxiety to the fight. Gone was the sonsy, affectionate, short-tempered woman who'd brought Ginny up; in her place was a dynamic fighter who matched Voldemort's most feared lieutenant curse for curse. Ginny had always known that her mother had fought for the Order of the Phoenix in the past, but she had never been able to picture it. Now she watched, immobilised by terror, because her mother couldn't die; she simply mustn't, and yet how could she defeat Bellatrix? Then, unbelievably it was over: Bellatrix fell back and Ginny's mother suddenly looked like her mother again. It was over.
Afterwards, she looked around for Harry and couldn't find him. Then she noticed Ron and Hermione heading for the door, a suspicious gap between them, and knew a different kind of ache. He didn't need her. Right now he needed the two people who'd been by his side for the past year - the past seven years. She understood that, but it still hurt.
It was several hours before she saw Harry again. She checked Gryffindor Tower but there was no sign of him, and finally Neville told her, a hint of sympathy in his expression, that he was asleep in his old dormitory. At this, Ginny finally acceded to her mother's exhortations to "go and lie down for a little while". But she did not sleep. She stared at the midday sun that the curtains could not shut out, aware of Luna breathing heavily in the bed that had once been Demelza's. And she thought about Harry.
***
It was late afternoon when Harry awoke. Ron and Hermione were curled up in the bed next to him, fully clothed except for their shoes. They'd been too tired even to draw the curtains around the cubicle, and when the other boys had come up one by one, nobody, not even Seamus, had commented.
Harry looked down at his own tatty jeans and filthy t-shirt. He couldn't remember when he'd last washed his hair or shaved.
Hermione's handbag lay on Ron's bedside table. Remembering something, Harry reached out, hoping it wasn't enchanted against intruders. Nothing happened when he pushed his fingers inside, so he groped around; it felt exactly the way it had when he'd groped in the depths of his trunk, so long ago before leaving the Dursleys', when he'd discovered the shards of Sirius's mirror.
Heavy old books, something light and lacy that must be underwear...he dropped that hastily and continued his search. Finally his hand closed on a small, metallic case, and he drew out the razor that Bill and Fleur had given him on his birthday.
He felt a good deal more human after a shower and a shave, but he still descended the stairs cautiously. He had no idea how fast news would travel, or how the castle's magical defences had been affected by the night-long battle; anyone might be in the common room.
As it happened, only Luna and Dean were there, talking seriously by the window. Harry greeted them and was relieved when they didn't seem eager to be disturbed. When he reached the portrait, however, Luna called in a low voice, "Ginny's down by the Quidditch pitch." She smiled at him and pointed out through the window.
He nodded his thanks.
Ginny was sitting at the top of the Quidditch bleachers, her long hair flying in the breeze. She saw him and waved as he made his way up to her.
"Good day for Quidditch," she said as he took the seat beside her, gazing out across the sunny pitch.
He grinned and thought how beautiful she looked, her fiery hair gentled by those warm brown eyes and her creamy complexion. She looked, he thought, with a brief memory of pre-Hogwarts schooldays, like the goddess Diana.
"Pity we can't get a few people out here. But no," he said, horrified at himself. "That would be - disrespectful."
She turned to look at him at last and he took in her red nose and blotchy eyes. "I don't think Fred would mind too much. Nor R- Remus and Tonks."
"I'm so sorry. About Fred." Harry swallowed down a lump in his throat. All that struggling, the long fight, and it still wasn't over. Voldemort's legacy of grief would last for generations.
"Fred knew the risks," Ginny said steadily. "We all did. And what were the odds - " her voice shook suddenly - "of us all making it out alive?"
He put a hand over hers and she gripped it hard; he could almost see her regaining control as her hand drew strength from his.
"What will you do now?" she asked. To the south, a group of people were flying in by broomstick. Far below, the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station with a great deal of steam and a distant whistle.
"I'm not sure," he said, wondering who the fliers were. "I want to speak to Kingsley, and there'll be some Death Eaters to round up. And then the - the funerals to organise." Realisation broke over him. "I'm Teddy's godfather, I should go and see him. And Tonks's mum." Poor Andromeda. Now she really had lost everything, all except Teddy. He pictured the little boy in the photograph that Remus had shown him all that time ago (was it really just yesterday?). Well, he'd have to do his best by Teddy, both for his own sake and for his parents.
Suddenly, he became aware that he had said the wrong thing to Ginny, whose hand had fallen limp in his. She was looking away towards the mountains again, her jaw set firmly.
"I missed you," he said awkwardly.
She turned back to him and her eyes were full of tears. "I missed you, too."
He bent towards her, anxious to kiss those tears away, but she pulled back.
"Ginny, I-"
"You thought you could just turn up here pretending to be dead, after not giving any sign that you'd thought about me even a little bit for the past nine months, and I'd fall into your arms. I know." She held up a hand as Harry opened his mouth. "I know I'm not being fair. You couldn't contact me, it would've been dangerous. But it's still shit. I'm sorry, Harry, but it's how I feel."
"I thought about you all the time," he said helplessly.
"And I thought about you. There wasn't much else to do at bloody Auntie Muriel's." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Harry. I've been thinking about this a lot. You might like me, or think you do, but you don't - not enough."
"But-" It seemed useless to protest. He waited to hear what else she had to say.
"I've loved you ever since I was a little girl, but I've grown up this year, and while I was trying to sleep just now, I realised something. I can't moon over you forever. I just can't. I don't give a shit about what people think of me, but I am tired of being the girl who keeps making a fool of herself over Harry Potter. So I think it's time to just leave it, yeah?"
She stood up, pulling her hand from his grasp. Her eyes were dry now; she looked desolate but determined. "I'm sorry, Harry."
As he watched her descending the steps, he thought he might have an inkling of how she had felt at Dumbledore's funeral when he had broken up with her.
***
Ginny, whose main objective now was to go back to school and get qualified so that she could get on with her life, was back at Hogwarts when the news came. She had hopes of a career in professional Quidditch; had, in fact, talked Oliver Wood into giving Charlie Weasley's little sister a tryout, and been told that she wasn't half bad and to keep practising. But she was also aware that a talent for Quidditch wouldn't get you everywhere, and besides, she rather enjoyed some lessons, like Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms. For this reason, she had spent much of the summer at Hogwarts, volunteering along with most of the staff and various students, including Luna once she returned from a holiday with her father.
Summer was waning, golden and red leaves were drifting from the Forbidden Forest onto the grass near Hagrid's cabin, Professor McGonagall was talking of opening up the school within a few weeks, and news of Harry was everywhere. He was getting the Order of Merit; he was looking after Professor Lupin's baby boy; he was going to be an Auror. His face - bewildered or grim; sometimes even smiling - gazed from every wizarding publication in the country. Oh, the others got coverage, too. The Daily Prophet printed a special edition entitled 'The Heroes of Hogwarts', containing an outline of those killed and short paragraphs about every single person known to have been present that night. Neville got a double-page spread, and a pull-out section detailed the work of Dumbledore's Army, which the Prophet said had operated 'from an unknown location', in the months preceding the battle.
But the person everyone wanted to know about, talk about, write about, interview, was Harry. He was the story; everyone else was...collateral, thought Ginny wearily one evening as she tried to write to George.
"Harry Potter's gone missing." The news flashed so quickly through the school on that late September morning that Ginny heard it from three separate people before she reached breakfast. She dashed into the hall and quickly located Luna's fair head, bent over a letter. Luna looked up as Ginny, breathless and unable to speak, arrived beside her.
"It's true," she said without preamble, turning the parchment so that Ginny could read it. "Daddy says so. I'm really sorry."
Ron and Hermione were on the front page of the Prophet, their faces twisted with worry. Both kept looking over their shoulders as if Harry might appear at any moment. He had been due to meet them at a cafe in Muggle London, but had never turned up.
The theories grew more sensational each day. Harry had been kidnapped by some of Voldemort's supporters. He had gone on an undercover mission for the Minister of Magic which had gone wrong. He was a werewolf and was living wild in the Forbidden Forest. He had killed himself, unable to adjust to normal life. He had gone abroad. He had rediscovered the Philosopher's Stone...
Ginny worked mechanically, sorting desks and textbooks in the Charms classroom while she racked her brains to work out what had become of Harry. But none of the stories in the papers presented a shred of proof, and there were no leads. Harry had simply disappeared.
"I bet he's gone abroad," remarked Romilda Vane, who had turned up a few days earlier and was now sporting a black armband in Harry's honour. "Like Bonnie Prince Charlie - he was hounded out."
Ginny resisted the urge to slap her, but it was a close-run thing.
Finally, a week after Harry's disappearance, some evidence appeared - and it was Ginny who found it. Or rather, it found her. She was forcing down some toast and marmalade when a post owl dropped a small package onto her plate. Wiping the marmalade off, she opened it to find a pair of glasses.
The note said: Tonight. The forest. Midnight. Tell no one, and come alone, or your boyfriend will suffer.
"Someone's behind on the news," said Ginny aloud, and showed Luna the letter.
Luna nodded. "I thought he must have been kidnapped. None of the other theories made sense." She looked at Ginny. "You're going, then?"
"Yeah." Ginny hesitated. "Um, if I'm - if we're not back by morning, will you tell someone? I mean, maybe it's nothing, maybe just a joke, but..."
"Those are Harry's glasses," said Luna decisively, and sighed. "It does seem very unfair, doesn't it? After all he's done, he deserves some peace and quiet."
Ginny, torn between fury and terror, was finding it difficult to speak. "Wish me luck," she said eventually.
She felt stupid as she crept past Hagrid's cabin into the oppressive darkness of the forest. Obviously, she was walking into some kind of trap, although why anyone would want her when they already had Harry she couldn't fathom. But what was she supposed to do? Tell the Ministry of Magic and hope they found Harry before he was killed? Stay in bed and imagine him being tortured?
As she trudged further in, she tried to think of spells that might be useful. That was another reason for feeling stupid - she didn't actually know where she was heading. There were any number of paths through the forest. She was basically waiting to be ambushed.
Was this how Harry had felt the night he had walked into the forest to meet his death at Voldemort's hands?
But she had no choice. The kidnappers had held her heart from the moment she'd seen Harry's glasses, now folded in her pocket. He would be wearing them again by morning, she vowed.
A twig cracked behind her; she whirled around, but whatever had caused the noise was already scuttling away through the undergrowth.
Another sound, from a different direction, and she ducked a Stunning spell just in time. The nature of the spell was almost a relief - at least whoever it was didn't want to kill her outright. Otherwise, she had no illusions about the fact that she would have been dead within minutes.
"All right," she yelled. "I'm here. I've followed your instructions. What do you want?
"Miss Weasley. How kind of you to join us." The plummy accent and high, sardonic tone reminded her for a horrible instant of Tom Riddle. But the man who stepped out from under the trees was no Tom Riddle, nor a Voldemort. He had long chestnut hair and high cheekbones, but the overall effect was spoiled by a large, hooked nose. His robes were worn but neat.
"Where's Harry?" she demanded.
"Not far," the man said politely. "Why don't you follow me and you can have a romantic reunion with him?"
***
Harry came to with a vague idea that he had just heard Ginny's voice. But no, it must have been a dream. The only voices that he had heard for days were those of his captors.
"You've hurt him!"
Harry blinked and forced himself to remain still. It was Ginny, standing wand to wand with Rabastan Lestrange, her hair like dark fire in the light cast by the torches hanging from the trees. What on earth had possessed her to come here?
"Not permanently," said the hated voice. "My brother likes to have his games, that's all. He's whole, at least in body, and his mind - well,that'll recover."
I still have my mind, you bastard, thought Harry, as Ginny demanded, "Like Neville's parents, you mean?" In the pause that followed, he could almost hear the realisation hit. "You're one of the Lestranges."
There was another pause. Harry opened his eyes in time to catch Rabastan rising from a bow, his wand arm still pointing at Ginny. "Indeed." He gestured behind him. "And this is my brother. Rodolphus, say hello to the Weasley girl."
An incoherent mumble was heard nearby. Harry did not need to look at the haggard man tied to the tree to picture Rodolphus Lestrange. He had seem him at far too close a range several times over the past few days; his entire body ached suddenly with remembered agony.
He wasn't close enough to see Ginny's expression (damn them for taking his glasses!), but the distaste in her voice was plain. "You haven't been looking after him very well, have you?"
"Oh, Rodolphus doesn't want for much," said Rabastan blandly. "In fact, he only wants one thing to make him happy."
Think, Harry thought, got to help her, got to get out of this. He didn't dare move; if Rabastan thought he was still unconscious, there was the smallest chance that he could catch him off-guard. Of course, that involved breaking the magical bonds that had him trapped.
"You see," continued Rabastan, "my brother lost his wife a few months ago. It upset him very much. You might almost say her loss...deranged him."
"I heard he wasn't all there to start with," retorted Ginny, and Harry was torn between egging her on and warning her not to antagonise them. He had tried that - for a few days.
"Rodolphus has had a difficult life." Rabastan's voice was hard. "As have I."
"Let me think," Ginny said. "That wouldn't have anything to do with you spending fourteen years in prison for being murderous, sadistic bastards, would it?"
"Fourteen years in prison from which he never recovered," said Rabastan. "Losing poor Bella was the last straw."
Ginny broke the short silence that followed this. "So...you've got Harry." Something in her voice reminded him of the way she'd cried his name that last night at Hogwarts, when she'd believed him dead. I'm so sorry, Ginny, he thought. I'm so sorry I put you through that, and I'm sorry I've dragged you into this.
"And you've brought me here," Ginny continued. "Why? What do you want?"
"It's not so much a question of what I want," said Rabastan, "as what Rodolphus wants. You see, I believe that when my poor sister-in-law died, it was at the hands of your mother. Am I correct?"
"Yes," said Ginny.
"And your mother...she was protecting someone, wasn't she?"
Enough! Harry placed all his will against the binding spells. It's just magic, he told himself furiously. It can be broken. Just concentrate!
"You," Rabastan said.
The bonds remained as uncomfortably tight as ever, but Harry pushed again and again, over and over until all of his efforts, mental and physical, were focused on them.
"So what you're saying," he dimly heard Ginny say, "is that if I agree to take Harry's place, you'll let him go?"
"Ginny, no!" Harry's attention snapped back to the confrontation. Her head whipped towards him, and for all his fear and anxiety a small smile found its way onto his face. He couldn't make out her features clearly, but he saw, or hoped he saw, an answering smile there. "Don't," he said softly, "please don't." An image came to him of Rodolphus doing to Ginny what he had been threatening to do to Harry, and he shuddered. "He'll hurt you."
Ginny gave him a brilliant smile, visible even through his myopia, and when she turned back to Rabastan and asked what Rodolphus would do to her, he thought he'd never loved her more, because only he, who knew her so well, would have heard the slight tremor in her voice.
"I'm sure you have an imagination," Rabastan answered.
"And you?"
"I'll be...watching. Enjoying the show, shall we say. Your boyfriend was rather entertaining at first, but he's become a little boring." Rabastan's eyes passed mockingly over Harry.
Ginny went very still. At first, Harry assumed that she was too horrified to move. Then he recognised the set to her shoulders, and the way she seemed to grow an inch or two taller. He'd seen her look like that several times before, most memorably as she shouted at Ron during the fight that had precipitated Ron's relationship with Lavender. Ginny was not paralysed by horror; she was furious.
"I don't know why everyone keeps calling him my boyfriend," she remarked. "We broke up over a year ago."
For the first time, Rabastan looked flustered, but he recovered his poise quickly. "You broke up at Potter's instigation, I gather," he said, "in order to protect you. I also understand that you owe him a life debt." His voice hardened again. "Something about a little youthful dabbling with artefacts that only a Slytherin should have touched."
"Ignore him," Harry shouted. "Ignore him, I don't care about that!"
Ginny glanced at him again, but her face was closed now and impossible to read in the dim light. Her wand still pointed at Rabastan Lestrange's heart.
"You're right," she said levelly. "But I won't hand myself over for those reasons. I'll do it because Harry's a good person who's had to endure far too much because of Voldemort and his stupid bunch of idiots." Harry winced at her tone. "So yeah, you can have me." She paused for breath. "If you can give me some kind of guarantee that you'll let Harry go."
"I don't think I can give you that," Rabastan said. "I'm afraid, as one pure-blood to another, you'll just have to trust my sense of honour."
"Which means a lot, of course, given the mess your family's made of honour, doesn't it?" asked Ginny.
She knows they won't let me go, thought Harry. She knows, and she's going to do it anyway. "Ginny," he said, struggling once more to free himself. "I'm begging here. Please don't do this."
She turned to him again, her robes billowing in the chilly breeze. Her hair, he noticed, matched the leaves that littered the ground almost exactly. "I'm sorry, Harry. I don't have a choice."
***
"All right, then." Ginny looked at Rabastan, her mind still racing through the possibilities. "Here I am." She held out her wand and slowly let it slip through her fingers until it was held between the tips of her thumb and forefinger. "Let him go." Got to time it right, like a Quidditch shot, she thought. She watched Rabastan, aware of her precarious grasp on the wand, and of Harry struggling in the periphery of her vision against unseen bonds. She didn't think the shambling madman tied to the tree would be any trouble - or not yet.
Rabastan looked at her and Ginny suppressed a shiver, aware that any second now she was going to have to drop the wand. She just needed him to lose focus for an instant.
"Ginny, no," Harry called again hoarsely. "They're monsters, I'd rather die."
Rabastan looked away, perhaps planning a witty put-down for Harry. Ginny never found out, because the instant that his gaze fell away from hers, she brought her wand up again and flung a Bat Bogey hex at him with all her strength.
It did little damage - she hadn't expected it to - but while he fended off the hex, she turned her wand on Harry. "Finite incantatem!"
Harry scrambled to his feet, but Ginny had no time to watch. She blocked Rabastan's attack and concentrated on bringing him down, trying to imitate the grim and focused way that her mother had fought Bellatrix Lestrange. Hex, block. Jinx, block. Curse, block. Disarming spell, block. Ginny had always been good at channelling her anger, and now she threw all her fury at Rabastan. How dared they torture Harry! How dared they use him as a lure to wreak vengeance on her family. How dared they bloody hassle him, after everything he'd lived through! She cast another Bat Bogey hex and smiled viciously when it hit its target. This was a duel that she intended to win.
She had been careful to keep between Harry and Rabastan in case the latter decided to attack while Harry was defenceless. But Harry suddenly lurched past her and dived at Rabastan, intercepting both her Furnunculus jinx and Rabastan's curse as he brought him down.
"Harry!" Ginny shrieked, and this time she did hear her voice, heard her desperate, disbelieving terror echoing through the cold, lonely forest.
She scrambled towards them, Stunning and disarming Rabastan as he struggled to push Harry off. "Harry! Are you OK?" At least that last curse hadn't been an Unforgivable; she was reasonably certain that it had been a Stunner.
Sure enough, Harry was already stirring by the time she reached him - and boils were breaking out all over his face. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry," she said, stroking his cheek gingerly.
He opened his eyes and smiled blearily up at her. "I'll settle for worse if it means getting out of the clutches of those two. Talk about unpleasant company. God, it's good to see you again."
She pulled out his glasses. "Take these," she muttered. "Where's your wand?"
"He's got it." Harry indicated Rodolphus Lestrange, who had been watching proceedings, apparently without much interest.
Ginny quickly conjured ropes to hold Rabastan - she didn't trust her binding spell to last - and turned to his brother.
"Careful," Harry croaked. "He's completely mental, but he can still do magic. And he's vicious."
"Expelliarmus," said Ginny firmly, and a wand flew into her hands. "Is that new?" she asked, handing it to Harry.
He sat up with a nod. "Ollivander made it for me. Hang on." He aimed the wand at the elder Lestrange. "Incarcerous!"
"He doesn't seem like he can do much of anything," said Ginny. Indeed, Lestrange was still gazing around with an air of mild puzzlement. He gave no sign of noticing his bonds, nor his brother's prone form.
"That bastard keeps him drugged," Harry said bitterly. "I think he's a bit afraid of him; he only lets him out once in a while. To play his little games, like he said."
Ginny reached out and squeezed his hand hard.
***
It was a cloudless night, and once they reached the edge of the forest Harry could see quite well. He touched his face, which was aching from all the boils.
"Um, do you know how long these are likely to last?"
"Probably an hour or so," she said wryly. "I'm really sorry, Harry. I could try and Heal them if you like?"
Harry, who had experienced more than his fair share of botched Healing spells, would ordinarily have insisted on waiting for Madam Pomfrey, but there was something very alluring about the idea of Ginny tending to his wounds. "OK."
She sat him down on one of Hagrid's giant pumpkins and touched her wand gently to his face. He felt the pressure lessen slightly, but she shook her head. "Damn, I'm going to have to Heal each one individually."
This gave him ample time to drink in her lovely features, and to make special note of the shadows under her eyes and the stumpy, dirty fingernails, which only seemed to make her more attractive. She pursed her mouth as she worked, and he longed to kiss her, but forced himself to wait until she leaned back and said quietly, "I think that's the lot."
His hand closed over hers. "I've missed you so badly."
She said nothing, but nor did she move away, so he pressed on. "I thought about you so much, all last year; I really hated that I couldn't see you because of Voldemort. And then, when you broke up with me-"
"I didn't break up with you - we weren't going out together!"
"Well, when you blew me off, then," he said. "Anyway, I went off and tried to concentrate on...on all that stuff I said I was going to do, that day when we were talking down by the Quidditch pitch, but I was miserable, and I couldn't be bothered, even with Auror training really, although it's fun, and Kingsley's talking about fast-tracking me, but - I just kept thinking of you. And then, this past week." He shook his head. "Let's just say I thought about you a lot. When I opened my eyes and saw you there, I thought you were the most beautiful person I'd ever seen in my life." He stroked her cheek. "I still do, to be honest."
She brushed that away with a dismissive hand, then leaned down and kissed him. "I'm sorry," she said a moment later. "I was an idiot. Cutting off my nose to spite my face, as Mum would say. I was just - I suppose I was waiting for some sort of sign from you that you still liked me, and you didn't even seem to remember I existed for ages."
"I was stupid," he said. "I should have looked for you earlier. I meant to; I kept looking around and seeing you, and then something else would come up."
"Right pair of idiots we are," she said quietly, and kissed him again.
It was a long time before she pulled away. "I'm sorry. I'd love to be all romantic and say you keep me warm, but...it's the beginning of autumn and I'm freezing. Can we get indoors?"
"Do you know," he asked with another lingering kiss, "how much I'd give to have you with me in a nice warm bed right now?"
She grinned. "Lead on, Macduff."
He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close enough to feel her shivers, and they walked up to the castle together.
Author: lyras
Pairing/rating: Harry/Ginny, PG-13
Warnings: implied torture
Wordcount: 5,400
Summary: Harry has been kidnapped, but it seems the real prey this time may be Ginny.
Notes: Written for the Changing Seasons exchange (look at that lovely masterlist!) for pumpkinpasty, who requested 'a postwar fic in which things don't go as expected; in which Harry and Ginny don't pick up where they left off, but rather, seem to have been caught in a limbo, a standstill, left to deal with the aftermath of war'. Here, I hope, is that story :o).
Redemption Song
Afterwards, they told Ginny that she had called Harry's name at the moment when she saw his dead body in Hagrid's arms. She had no memory of doing so; had no memory of anything except for the numbing realisation that he was gone, and that all his efforts - all their efforts - had been vain.
She heard little of the discussion that followed, and none of the taunts offered by Voldemort or the insults yelled by those around her. Instead, she concentrated on Harry, trying to take in every detail of him, from his ruffled hair, past the open mouth that would never kiss her again, down his bony frame to the worn trainers. She looked eagerly for signs of the past nine months, desperate to share his experiences in some way. Cuts and bruises spattered his arms, but at least some of those had been there before, when she'd stepped out of the tunnel and seen him, and it had been such a struggle not to run towards him and hug him the way she had done almost exactly a year before: to kiss him and let herself be kissed and god damn anyone else.
But she hadn't, and he hadn't, and now there he was. Dead; pale-skinned, pale-lipped, one lock of hair standing ridiculously on end. A hand outstretched; one leg bent awkwardly where Hagrid had lain him on the grass at Voldemort's feet.
Ginny had tried not to dream of Harry this year - at least, not in that way - but as she watched him lying there, a sense of failure overwhelmed her.
She was vaguely aware of Neville stepping forward; of Bellatrix Lestrange's screeches scraping across her consciousness. But she was too busy gathering her thoughts as she watched Harry to bother with anything else.
It wouldn't be in vain, she vowed; it would not be failure. Even if they all died now, they would eliminate Voldemort. And with any luck, they wouldn't all die. She thought of Fred, lying in the Great Hall alongside Remus and Tonks and all the others, and began to strategise furiously, considering it in the light of a Quidditch match. Her senses darted here and there as she tested ideas, but her gaze remained on Harry.
And so she heard rather than saw Neville behead Voldemort's great snake; heard Voldemort's shriek of fury; but she saw Harry move and then quickly disappear as he pulled the invisibility cloak over himself.
Ginny did not pause to think. There was nothing she could do for Harry until he chose to reveal himself. It was impossible to follow his progress; as soon as she picked up a movement, she lost him again. Whirling around, she saw Bellatrix Lestrange aiming her wand at Luna.
God, Harry, don't get killed by running into the middle of some duel, Ginny prayed as she blocked Bellatrix's curse and countered with a Bat Bogey hex.
"Oh, how sweet," Bellatrix called. "Harry Potter's little girlfriend can do baby spells! See how you like this, dearie." Her lips curved in a cruel smile and green light shot from her wand.
Ginny slipped as she dodged, but Hermione appeared and threw out a shield spell which combined with Luna's. They continued in this vein for a while, Bellatrix taunting them while sending deadly curses in their direction, the three of them responding with jinxes and hexes. It should have been easy, Ginny thought desperately as green light flashed past again, for two of them to distract her while the third stunned or bound her. But Bellatrix was too good; she had probably been fighting to the death ever since she could point a wand, and all their defensive practice could never match that.
Suddenly her mother was there, bringing a whole new level of anxiety to the fight. Gone was the sonsy, affectionate, short-tempered woman who'd brought Ginny up; in her place was a dynamic fighter who matched Voldemort's most feared lieutenant curse for curse. Ginny had always known that her mother had fought for the Order of the Phoenix in the past, but she had never been able to picture it. Now she watched, immobilised by terror, because her mother couldn't die; she simply mustn't, and yet how could she defeat Bellatrix? Then, unbelievably it was over: Bellatrix fell back and Ginny's mother suddenly looked like her mother again. It was over.
Afterwards, she looked around for Harry and couldn't find him. Then she noticed Ron and Hermione heading for the door, a suspicious gap between them, and knew a different kind of ache. He didn't need her. Right now he needed the two people who'd been by his side for the past year - the past seven years. She understood that, but it still hurt.
It was several hours before she saw Harry again. She checked Gryffindor Tower but there was no sign of him, and finally Neville told her, a hint of sympathy in his expression, that he was asleep in his old dormitory. At this, Ginny finally acceded to her mother's exhortations to "go and lie down for a little while". But she did not sleep. She stared at the midday sun that the curtains could not shut out, aware of Luna breathing heavily in the bed that had once been Demelza's. And she thought about Harry.
***
It was late afternoon when Harry awoke. Ron and Hermione were curled up in the bed next to him, fully clothed except for their shoes. They'd been too tired even to draw the curtains around the cubicle, and when the other boys had come up one by one, nobody, not even Seamus, had commented.
Harry looked down at his own tatty jeans and filthy t-shirt. He couldn't remember when he'd last washed his hair or shaved.
Hermione's handbag lay on Ron's bedside table. Remembering something, Harry reached out, hoping it wasn't enchanted against intruders. Nothing happened when he pushed his fingers inside, so he groped around; it felt exactly the way it had when he'd groped in the depths of his trunk, so long ago before leaving the Dursleys', when he'd discovered the shards of Sirius's mirror.
Heavy old books, something light and lacy that must be underwear...he dropped that hastily and continued his search. Finally his hand closed on a small, metallic case, and he drew out the razor that Bill and Fleur had given him on his birthday.
He felt a good deal more human after a shower and a shave, but he still descended the stairs cautiously. He had no idea how fast news would travel, or how the castle's magical defences had been affected by the night-long battle; anyone might be in the common room.
As it happened, only Luna and Dean were there, talking seriously by the window. Harry greeted them and was relieved when they didn't seem eager to be disturbed. When he reached the portrait, however, Luna called in a low voice, "Ginny's down by the Quidditch pitch." She smiled at him and pointed out through the window.
He nodded his thanks.
Ginny was sitting at the top of the Quidditch bleachers, her long hair flying in the breeze. She saw him and waved as he made his way up to her.
"Good day for Quidditch," she said as he took the seat beside her, gazing out across the sunny pitch.
He grinned and thought how beautiful she looked, her fiery hair gentled by those warm brown eyes and her creamy complexion. She looked, he thought, with a brief memory of pre-Hogwarts schooldays, like the goddess Diana.
"Pity we can't get a few people out here. But no," he said, horrified at himself. "That would be - disrespectful."
She turned to look at him at last and he took in her red nose and blotchy eyes. "I don't think Fred would mind too much. Nor R- Remus and Tonks."
"I'm so sorry. About Fred." Harry swallowed down a lump in his throat. All that struggling, the long fight, and it still wasn't over. Voldemort's legacy of grief would last for generations.
"Fred knew the risks," Ginny said steadily. "We all did. And what were the odds - " her voice shook suddenly - "of us all making it out alive?"
He put a hand over hers and she gripped it hard; he could almost see her regaining control as her hand drew strength from his.
"What will you do now?" she asked. To the south, a group of people were flying in by broomstick. Far below, the Hogwarts Express pulled into Hogsmeade Station with a great deal of steam and a distant whistle.
"I'm not sure," he said, wondering who the fliers were. "I want to speak to Kingsley, and there'll be some Death Eaters to round up. And then the - the funerals to organise." Realisation broke over him. "I'm Teddy's godfather, I should go and see him. And Tonks's mum." Poor Andromeda. Now she really had lost everything, all except Teddy. He pictured the little boy in the photograph that Remus had shown him all that time ago (was it really just yesterday?). Well, he'd have to do his best by Teddy, both for his own sake and for his parents.
Suddenly, he became aware that he had said the wrong thing to Ginny, whose hand had fallen limp in his. She was looking away towards the mountains again, her jaw set firmly.
"I missed you," he said awkwardly.
She turned back to him and her eyes were full of tears. "I missed you, too."
He bent towards her, anxious to kiss those tears away, but she pulled back.
"Ginny, I-"
"You thought you could just turn up here pretending to be dead, after not giving any sign that you'd thought about me even a little bit for the past nine months, and I'd fall into your arms. I know." She held up a hand as Harry opened his mouth. "I know I'm not being fair. You couldn't contact me, it would've been dangerous. But it's still shit. I'm sorry, Harry, but it's how I feel."
"I thought about you all the time," he said helplessly.
"And I thought about you. There wasn't much else to do at bloody Auntie Muriel's." She shook her head. "I'm sorry, Harry. I've been thinking about this a lot. You might like me, or think you do, but you don't - not enough."
"But-" It seemed useless to protest. He waited to hear what else she had to say.
"I've loved you ever since I was a little girl, but I've grown up this year, and while I was trying to sleep just now, I realised something. I can't moon over you forever. I just can't. I don't give a shit about what people think of me, but I am tired of being the girl who keeps making a fool of herself over Harry Potter. So I think it's time to just leave it, yeah?"
She stood up, pulling her hand from his grasp. Her eyes were dry now; she looked desolate but determined. "I'm sorry, Harry."
As he watched her descending the steps, he thought he might have an inkling of how she had felt at Dumbledore's funeral when he had broken up with her.
***
Ginny, whose main objective now was to go back to school and get qualified so that she could get on with her life, was back at Hogwarts when the news came. She had hopes of a career in professional Quidditch; had, in fact, talked Oliver Wood into giving Charlie Weasley's little sister a tryout, and been told that she wasn't half bad and to keep practising. But she was also aware that a talent for Quidditch wouldn't get you everywhere, and besides, she rather enjoyed some lessons, like Defence Against the Dark Arts and Charms. For this reason, she had spent much of the summer at Hogwarts, volunteering along with most of the staff and various students, including Luna once she returned from a holiday with her father.
Summer was waning, golden and red leaves were drifting from the Forbidden Forest onto the grass near Hagrid's cabin, Professor McGonagall was talking of opening up the school within a few weeks, and news of Harry was everywhere. He was getting the Order of Merit; he was looking after Professor Lupin's baby boy; he was going to be an Auror. His face - bewildered or grim; sometimes even smiling - gazed from every wizarding publication in the country. Oh, the others got coverage, too. The Daily Prophet printed a special edition entitled 'The Heroes of Hogwarts', containing an outline of those killed and short paragraphs about every single person known to have been present that night. Neville got a double-page spread, and a pull-out section detailed the work of Dumbledore's Army, which the Prophet said had operated 'from an unknown location', in the months preceding the battle.
But the person everyone wanted to know about, talk about, write about, interview, was Harry. He was the story; everyone else was...collateral, thought Ginny wearily one evening as she tried to write to George.
"Harry Potter's gone missing." The news flashed so quickly through the school on that late September morning that Ginny heard it from three separate people before she reached breakfast. She dashed into the hall and quickly located Luna's fair head, bent over a letter. Luna looked up as Ginny, breathless and unable to speak, arrived beside her.
"It's true," she said without preamble, turning the parchment so that Ginny could read it. "Daddy says so. I'm really sorry."
Ron and Hermione were on the front page of the Prophet, their faces twisted with worry. Both kept looking over their shoulders as if Harry might appear at any moment. He had been due to meet them at a cafe in Muggle London, but had never turned up.
The theories grew more sensational each day. Harry had been kidnapped by some of Voldemort's supporters. He had gone on an undercover mission for the Minister of Magic which had gone wrong. He was a werewolf and was living wild in the Forbidden Forest. He had killed himself, unable to adjust to normal life. He had gone abroad. He had rediscovered the Philosopher's Stone...
Ginny worked mechanically, sorting desks and textbooks in the Charms classroom while she racked her brains to work out what had become of Harry. But none of the stories in the papers presented a shred of proof, and there were no leads. Harry had simply disappeared.
"I bet he's gone abroad," remarked Romilda Vane, who had turned up a few days earlier and was now sporting a black armband in Harry's honour. "Like Bonnie Prince Charlie - he was hounded out."
Ginny resisted the urge to slap her, but it was a close-run thing.
Finally, a week after Harry's disappearance, some evidence appeared - and it was Ginny who found it. Or rather, it found her. She was forcing down some toast and marmalade when a post owl dropped a small package onto her plate. Wiping the marmalade off, she opened it to find a pair of glasses.
The note said: Tonight. The forest. Midnight. Tell no one, and come alone, or your boyfriend will suffer.
"Someone's behind on the news," said Ginny aloud, and showed Luna the letter.
Luna nodded. "I thought he must have been kidnapped. None of the other theories made sense." She looked at Ginny. "You're going, then?"
"Yeah." Ginny hesitated. "Um, if I'm - if we're not back by morning, will you tell someone? I mean, maybe it's nothing, maybe just a joke, but..."
"Those are Harry's glasses," said Luna decisively, and sighed. "It does seem very unfair, doesn't it? After all he's done, he deserves some peace and quiet."
Ginny, torn between fury and terror, was finding it difficult to speak. "Wish me luck," she said eventually.
She felt stupid as she crept past Hagrid's cabin into the oppressive darkness of the forest. Obviously, she was walking into some kind of trap, although why anyone would want her when they already had Harry she couldn't fathom. But what was she supposed to do? Tell the Ministry of Magic and hope they found Harry before he was killed? Stay in bed and imagine him being tortured?
As she trudged further in, she tried to think of spells that might be useful. That was another reason for feeling stupid - she didn't actually know where she was heading. There were any number of paths through the forest. She was basically waiting to be ambushed.
Was this how Harry had felt the night he had walked into the forest to meet his death at Voldemort's hands?
But she had no choice. The kidnappers had held her heart from the moment she'd seen Harry's glasses, now folded in her pocket. He would be wearing them again by morning, she vowed.
A twig cracked behind her; she whirled around, but whatever had caused the noise was already scuttling away through the undergrowth.
Another sound, from a different direction, and she ducked a Stunning spell just in time. The nature of the spell was almost a relief - at least whoever it was didn't want to kill her outright. Otherwise, she had no illusions about the fact that she would have been dead within minutes.
"All right," she yelled. "I'm here. I've followed your instructions. What do you want?
"Miss Weasley. How kind of you to join us." The plummy accent and high, sardonic tone reminded her for a horrible instant of Tom Riddle. But the man who stepped out from under the trees was no Tom Riddle, nor a Voldemort. He had long chestnut hair and high cheekbones, but the overall effect was spoiled by a large, hooked nose. His robes were worn but neat.
"Where's Harry?" she demanded.
"Not far," the man said politely. "Why don't you follow me and you can have a romantic reunion with him?"
***
Harry came to with a vague idea that he had just heard Ginny's voice. But no, it must have been a dream. The only voices that he had heard for days were those of his captors.
"You've hurt him!"
Harry blinked and forced himself to remain still. It was Ginny, standing wand to wand with Rabastan Lestrange, her hair like dark fire in the light cast by the torches hanging from the trees. What on earth had possessed her to come here?
"Not permanently," said the hated voice. "My brother likes to have his games, that's all. He's whole, at least in body, and his mind - well,that'll recover."
I still have my mind, you bastard, thought Harry, as Ginny demanded, "Like Neville's parents, you mean?" In the pause that followed, he could almost hear the realisation hit. "You're one of the Lestranges."
There was another pause. Harry opened his eyes in time to catch Rabastan rising from a bow, his wand arm still pointing at Ginny. "Indeed." He gestured behind him. "And this is my brother. Rodolphus, say hello to the Weasley girl."
An incoherent mumble was heard nearby. Harry did not need to look at the haggard man tied to the tree to picture Rodolphus Lestrange. He had seem him at far too close a range several times over the past few days; his entire body ached suddenly with remembered agony.
He wasn't close enough to see Ginny's expression (damn them for taking his glasses!), but the distaste in her voice was plain. "You haven't been looking after him very well, have you?"
"Oh, Rodolphus doesn't want for much," said Rabastan blandly. "In fact, he only wants one thing to make him happy."
Think, Harry thought, got to help her, got to get out of this. He didn't dare move; if Rabastan thought he was still unconscious, there was the smallest chance that he could catch him off-guard. Of course, that involved breaking the magical bonds that had him trapped.
"You see," continued Rabastan, "my brother lost his wife a few months ago. It upset him very much. You might almost say her loss...deranged him."
"I heard he wasn't all there to start with," retorted Ginny, and Harry was torn between egging her on and warning her not to antagonise them. He had tried that - for a few days.
"Rodolphus has had a difficult life." Rabastan's voice was hard. "As have I."
"Let me think," Ginny said. "That wouldn't have anything to do with you spending fourteen years in prison for being murderous, sadistic bastards, would it?"
"Fourteen years in prison from which he never recovered," said Rabastan. "Losing poor Bella was the last straw."
Ginny broke the short silence that followed this. "So...you've got Harry." Something in her voice reminded him of the way she'd cried his name that last night at Hogwarts, when she'd believed him dead. I'm so sorry, Ginny, he thought. I'm so sorry I put you through that, and I'm sorry I've dragged you into this.
"And you've brought me here," Ginny continued. "Why? What do you want?"
"It's not so much a question of what I want," said Rabastan, "as what Rodolphus wants. You see, I believe that when my poor sister-in-law died, it was at the hands of your mother. Am I correct?"
"Yes," said Ginny.
"And your mother...she was protecting someone, wasn't she?"
Enough! Harry placed all his will against the binding spells. It's just magic, he told himself furiously. It can be broken. Just concentrate!
"You," Rabastan said.
The bonds remained as uncomfortably tight as ever, but Harry pushed again and again, over and over until all of his efforts, mental and physical, were focused on them.
"So what you're saying," he dimly heard Ginny say, "is that if I agree to take Harry's place, you'll let him go?"
"Ginny, no!" Harry's attention snapped back to the confrontation. Her head whipped towards him, and for all his fear and anxiety a small smile found its way onto his face. He couldn't make out her features clearly, but he saw, or hoped he saw, an answering smile there. "Don't," he said softly, "please don't." An image came to him of Rodolphus doing to Ginny what he had been threatening to do to Harry, and he shuddered. "He'll hurt you."
Ginny gave him a brilliant smile, visible even through his myopia, and when she turned back to Rabastan and asked what Rodolphus would do to her, he thought he'd never loved her more, because only he, who knew her so well, would have heard the slight tremor in her voice.
"I'm sure you have an imagination," Rabastan answered.
"And you?"
"I'll be...watching. Enjoying the show, shall we say. Your boyfriend was rather entertaining at first, but he's become a little boring." Rabastan's eyes passed mockingly over Harry.
Ginny went very still. At first, Harry assumed that she was too horrified to move. Then he recognised the set to her shoulders, and the way she seemed to grow an inch or two taller. He'd seen her look like that several times before, most memorably as she shouted at Ron during the fight that had precipitated Ron's relationship with Lavender. Ginny was not paralysed by horror; she was furious.
"I don't know why everyone keeps calling him my boyfriend," she remarked. "We broke up over a year ago."
For the first time, Rabastan looked flustered, but he recovered his poise quickly. "You broke up at Potter's instigation, I gather," he said, "in order to protect you. I also understand that you owe him a life debt." His voice hardened again. "Something about a little youthful dabbling with artefacts that only a Slytherin should have touched."
"Ignore him," Harry shouted. "Ignore him, I don't care about that!"
Ginny glanced at him again, but her face was closed now and impossible to read in the dim light. Her wand still pointed at Rabastan Lestrange's heart.
"You're right," she said levelly. "But I won't hand myself over for those reasons. I'll do it because Harry's a good person who's had to endure far too much because of Voldemort and his stupid bunch of idiots." Harry winced at her tone. "So yeah, you can have me." She paused for breath. "If you can give me some kind of guarantee that you'll let Harry go."
"I don't think I can give you that," Rabastan said. "I'm afraid, as one pure-blood to another, you'll just have to trust my sense of honour."
"Which means a lot, of course, given the mess your family's made of honour, doesn't it?" asked Ginny.
She knows they won't let me go, thought Harry. She knows, and she's going to do it anyway. "Ginny," he said, struggling once more to free himself. "I'm begging here. Please don't do this."
She turned to him again, her robes billowing in the chilly breeze. Her hair, he noticed, matched the leaves that littered the ground almost exactly. "I'm sorry, Harry. I don't have a choice."
***
"All right, then." Ginny looked at Rabastan, her mind still racing through the possibilities. "Here I am." She held out her wand and slowly let it slip through her fingers until it was held between the tips of her thumb and forefinger. "Let him go." Got to time it right, like a Quidditch shot, she thought. She watched Rabastan, aware of her precarious grasp on the wand, and of Harry struggling in the periphery of her vision against unseen bonds. She didn't think the shambling madman tied to the tree would be any trouble - or not yet.
Rabastan looked at her and Ginny suppressed a shiver, aware that any second now she was going to have to drop the wand. She just needed him to lose focus for an instant.
"Ginny, no," Harry called again hoarsely. "They're monsters, I'd rather die."
Rabastan looked away, perhaps planning a witty put-down for Harry. Ginny never found out, because the instant that his gaze fell away from hers, she brought her wand up again and flung a Bat Bogey hex at him with all her strength.
It did little damage - she hadn't expected it to - but while he fended off the hex, she turned her wand on Harry. "Finite incantatem!"
Harry scrambled to his feet, but Ginny had no time to watch. She blocked Rabastan's attack and concentrated on bringing him down, trying to imitate the grim and focused way that her mother had fought Bellatrix Lestrange. Hex, block. Jinx, block. Curse, block. Disarming spell, block. Ginny had always been good at channelling her anger, and now she threw all her fury at Rabastan. How dared they torture Harry! How dared they use him as a lure to wreak vengeance on her family. How dared they bloody hassle him, after everything he'd lived through! She cast another Bat Bogey hex and smiled viciously when it hit its target. This was a duel that she intended to win.
She had been careful to keep between Harry and Rabastan in case the latter decided to attack while Harry was defenceless. But Harry suddenly lurched past her and dived at Rabastan, intercepting both her Furnunculus jinx and Rabastan's curse as he brought him down.
"Harry!" Ginny shrieked, and this time she did hear her voice, heard her desperate, disbelieving terror echoing through the cold, lonely forest.
She scrambled towards them, Stunning and disarming Rabastan as he struggled to push Harry off. "Harry! Are you OK?" At least that last curse hadn't been an Unforgivable; she was reasonably certain that it had been a Stunner.
Sure enough, Harry was already stirring by the time she reached him - and boils were breaking out all over his face. "Oh, Harry, I'm so sorry," she said, stroking his cheek gingerly.
He opened his eyes and smiled blearily up at her. "I'll settle for worse if it means getting out of the clutches of those two. Talk about unpleasant company. God, it's good to see you again."
She pulled out his glasses. "Take these," she muttered. "Where's your wand?"
"He's got it." Harry indicated Rodolphus Lestrange, who had been watching proceedings, apparently without much interest.
Ginny quickly conjured ropes to hold Rabastan - she didn't trust her binding spell to last - and turned to his brother.
"Careful," Harry croaked. "He's completely mental, but he can still do magic. And he's vicious."
"Expelliarmus," said Ginny firmly, and a wand flew into her hands. "Is that new?" she asked, handing it to Harry.
He sat up with a nod. "Ollivander made it for me. Hang on." He aimed the wand at the elder Lestrange. "Incarcerous!"
"He doesn't seem like he can do much of anything," said Ginny. Indeed, Lestrange was still gazing around with an air of mild puzzlement. He gave no sign of noticing his bonds, nor his brother's prone form.
"That bastard keeps him drugged," Harry said bitterly. "I think he's a bit afraid of him; he only lets him out once in a while. To play his little games, like he said."
Ginny reached out and squeezed his hand hard.
***
It was a cloudless night, and once they reached the edge of the forest Harry could see quite well. He touched his face, which was aching from all the boils.
"Um, do you know how long these are likely to last?"
"Probably an hour or so," she said wryly. "I'm really sorry, Harry. I could try and Heal them if you like?"
Harry, who had experienced more than his fair share of botched Healing spells, would ordinarily have insisted on waiting for Madam Pomfrey, but there was something very alluring about the idea of Ginny tending to his wounds. "OK."
She sat him down on one of Hagrid's giant pumpkins and touched her wand gently to his face. He felt the pressure lessen slightly, but she shook her head. "Damn, I'm going to have to Heal each one individually."
This gave him ample time to drink in her lovely features, and to make special note of the shadows under her eyes and the stumpy, dirty fingernails, which only seemed to make her more attractive. She pursed her mouth as she worked, and he longed to kiss her, but forced himself to wait until she leaned back and said quietly, "I think that's the lot."
His hand closed over hers. "I've missed you so badly."
She said nothing, but nor did she move away, so he pressed on. "I thought about you so much, all last year; I really hated that I couldn't see you because of Voldemort. And then, when you broke up with me-"
"I didn't break up with you - we weren't going out together!"
"Well, when you blew me off, then," he said. "Anyway, I went off and tried to concentrate on...on all that stuff I said I was going to do, that day when we were talking down by the Quidditch pitch, but I was miserable, and I couldn't be bothered, even with Auror training really, although it's fun, and Kingsley's talking about fast-tracking me, but - I just kept thinking of you. And then, this past week." He shook his head. "Let's just say I thought about you a lot. When I opened my eyes and saw you there, I thought you were the most beautiful person I'd ever seen in my life." He stroked her cheek. "I still do, to be honest."
She brushed that away with a dismissive hand, then leaned down and kissed him. "I'm sorry," she said a moment later. "I was an idiot. Cutting off my nose to spite my face, as Mum would say. I was just - I suppose I was waiting for some sort of sign from you that you still liked me, and you didn't even seem to remember I existed for ages."
"I was stupid," he said. "I should have looked for you earlier. I meant to; I kept looking around and seeing you, and then something else would come up."
"Right pair of idiots we are," she said quietly, and kissed him again.
It was a long time before she pulled away. "I'm sorry. I'd love to be all romantic and say you keep me warm, but...it's the beginning of autumn and I'm freezing. Can we get indoors?"
"Do you know," he asked with another lingering kiss, "how much I'd give to have you with me in a nice warm bed right now?"
She grinned. "Lead on, Macduff."
He wrapped his arm around her, pulling her close enough to feel her shivers, and they walked up to the castle together.