From Across the Great Divide, Chapter 10
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.
Ginny must have eventually fallen asleep, because she woke with a start on Sunday morning. She thought a noise had brought her so abruptly back to consciousness and listened carefully but heard nothing further. She lay back in bed and waited for her heart to stop pounding. Fumbling for her watch on her night table, she saw the hand pointing to "might as well get up".
She sighed. She didn’t feel like rising just yet, but, groggy as she felt, she didn’t think she’d be able to get back to sleep now. She still felt restless and confused about Harry’s actions. Last night had been wonderful. She still had difficulty equating the awkward teen-aged Harry she’d had a crush on with the man who’d given her roses and taken her out. They almost seemed like two different people. In a way, she supposed, they were. But somehow, she felt, something was missing.
Sighing once more, Ginny decided she might as well get up, as her watch indicated. Lying in bed brooding would do her no good. She tied on her dressing gown, intending to take a quick shower. Opening her bedroom door quietly, in case Harry was still asleep, she stepped into the living room and froze. She suddenly felt wide awake.
Harry was most definitely not asleep. He was standing in the middle of the living room, wearing no more than a pair of shorts, working out with some hand weights. His back was turned part-way towards her, and he didn’t seem to be aware of her presence. She watched in fascination as his arm muscles flexed and unflexed repeatedly. It was obvious to Ginny that Harry had been doing this sort of thing for some time. His frame, while still wiry, had acquired a certain bulk to it. She felt her eyes widen and her mouth go dry as her brain registered the fine sheen of perspiration that covered his back. The air seemed to thicken about her. She finally had to lean against the wall for support and clench her fists in an effort to resist the urge to go over and touch…
She thought Harry must have felt her gaze burning into his skin, because he turned around without warning and saw her. Ginny forced herself to meet his eyes, feeling heat rise in her face at being caught staring. Harry cleared his throat. "I’m sorry. Did I wake you? I dropped a weight earlier." That explained the noise she’d heard. When she didn’t answer, Harry went on, "I brought these over from my flat yesterday. Have to keep in shape, even if I am on holiday. I’ve already taken a week off…"
He trailed off, and took a step towards her. Ginny noticed he was no longer looking her in the eye, as he continued to advance. Following the direction of his gaze downward, she realised that she’d tied her dressing gown quite haphazardly, and, at the moment, was revealing more of her night dress than seemed wise. She blushed even more as she clutched the lapels of her dressing gown close to her throat.
Harry stopped moving towards her at this. She met his gaze again, absently noting the rigidity of his stance. She forced herself to speak. "I’m just going to take a quick shower. Carry on."
As she entered the bathroom, she thought she heard him make an incoherent sound, almost a splutter, but then she decided it must have been her imagination.
Ginny stepped out of the shower a few minutes later and reached for a towel to dry herself. She leaned over to squeeze the excess water from her hair before taking her wand to perform a dessicatum spell. Suddenly, she heard a noise coming from the living room. It sounded to her as if Harry had cried out in pain. She hastily tied the belt of her dressing gown and rushed to see what the trouble was.
She found him sitting on the sofa gripping his left shoulder with his right hand. Going over and sitting beside him, she asked in a concerned voice, "What is it, Harry?"
Harry looked at her, grimacing in pain. "Cramp. In my shoulder," he grated.
Ginny moved around to his other side. Pushing away his hand, she began to probe at his upper back, quickly locating a mass of knotted muscle near the junction of his shoulder and neck. Harry groaned, as she began to massage the spot. After a few minutes, she could feel the muscles relax beneath her fingers. She continued to knead, more gently now, as the remaining tension eased out of Harry’s shoulder, until finally, he placed his hand over hers. He lifted her hand, entangling their fingers. Then he turned on the sofa until he was facing her, his eyes boring into hers.
"Thank you," he said thickly. "I suppose I was overdoing…" His voice trailed off, and he brought her hand to his lips. Then he turned Ginny’s hand over and kissed the delicate skin of her inner wrist, causing a shiver to pass through her. His eyes never left hers as he did this, and now she watched, transfixed, as those eyes moved closer until she was caught up in his kiss. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she gave herself over to the sensation of weightlessness that invaded her. She felt him grasp her by the hips and pull her into his lap, drawing her ever closer. She twined her hands in his hair, and returned his kiss with equal passion, until…
Suddenly he broke off, leaving her bereft. He stared at her for a moment, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He opened his mouth as if to say something, and in that instant, Ginny knew he was going to stop them. No! shouted a voice in her head. Desperately she reached for him, before he could say anything, and brought his lips back to hers. She kissed him fervently then, felt his arms tighten around her, and knew she had won the battle with his control. She allowed him to take over then, letting him push her back onto the sofa. She trembled when she felt his fingers touch her throat and then trace a line down the centre of her sternum. His lips left hers to follow the same path, and at the same time she felt him tug at the belt of her dressing gown.
Suddenly, there came a knock at the front door. Harry and Ginny both jumped at the sound, and then lay motionless, staring into each other’s eyes. Ginny could see that Harry was flushed and dishevelled and knew she must look much the same. For a long minute neither of them moved, as the full reality of the situation sunk in. Then the knock sounded again.
Harry sat up and ran a hand through his hair, which only served to make it look more unkempt. Finally he said, "You’re not expecting your mother, are you?"
Ginny swallowed. She sincerely hoped her mother hadn’t come back for another row. Unfortunately, Molly seemed to have a knack for turning up at the worst possible moment lately. Knowing she ought to answer, she said at last, "No, I’m not expecting anyone."
The knock was heard for a third time, and Ginny knew there was nothing for it. She stood up rather shakily, straightened her dressing gown, tightened the belt, and went to answer the door.
"Wait," said Harry. "We don’t know who’s out there." He picked his wand up off the end table and moved to stand with her, as she opened the door. There on the threshold stood her father.
"Dad," Ginny said in a surprised tone, "what brings you by?"
Arthur didn’t answer right away. His eyes widened in surprise for an instant, perhaps as a result of seeing Harry standing there with his wand trained on him. Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny saw Harry lower his wand. Arthur looked at them both for a long moment, taking in their appearance. Reflexively, Ginny raised a hand to her throat and pulled her lapels closer, a blush beginning to stain her cheeks. Arthur’s tone, when he finally spoke, was rather concerned. "Good morning, Ginny. Do you mind if I come in?"
Ginny tried to hide her chagrin, but didn’t know if she was very successful. "Sure, Dad. Have a seat." She indicated the sofa. "Erm… Look, if you don’t mind, I need to get dressed." She saw Harry shoot her a rather desperate glance at the prospect of being left alone with her father, but she felt she had little choice. If she tried to discuss anything with her dad dressed as she was now, it would only serve to remind him of how bad the situation looked. Besides, she was grateful for the chance to escape for a few minutes to collect her scattered thoughts.
She took her time about getting dressed. Her mind was insisting on replaying certain events, and she found this distracting. She knew that if her father hadn’t interrupted, she and Harry would have… She shook herself. Now was not the time to think about that. She still had her father to face, and she would just have to ignore the small triumphant voice in her head that kept on telling her she’d won.
When she emerged from the bedroom, she saw that Harry had seated himself in an armchair and was at least talking to her dad in a calm manner. She also noted with a certain amount of relief that Harry had found a T-shirt to put on. He and her father seemed to have reached some sort of understanding, but Ginny did not find out what that was right away, because the two men stopped talking as soon as she entered the living room. Harry stood up. "Listen," he said, "if you don’t mind, I’ll be getting dressed myself."
Ginny turned to him. "Go on, then." As he brushed by her on his way to the bathroom, she felt him squeeze her arm fleetingly. She turned back to address her father. "Sorry, Dad, do you mind if we talk in the kitchen? Neither of us has had breakfast. Can I make you some breakfast or a cup of tea?"
"Just some tea, thanks. I’ve already eaten."
Once Arthur was seated at the kitchen table, Ginny set about preparing a quick breakfast. She didn’t say anything right away. She hadn’t the slightest idea how to begin to explain the situation. When the silence had stretched to the point of becoming uncomfortable, she finally resolved to break it. "I suppose Fred and George have been to see you." She set a mug of hot tea in front of her father as she said this, and saw a surprised look cross his face.
"No. What could they possibly have to do with any of this? I’m here, because your mother is very upset. I tried to get hold of you last night through the fire, but there was no answer." Ginny sighed. She thought he sounded disappointed and couldn’t remember that he’d ever taken that tone with her. Perhaps with the twins a time or two, when they’d taken a joke too far, but never with her. The thought of the twins caused a spark of annoyance to pass through her. George had promised to have a word with Dad. She supposed he’d hadn’t had time yet, but that thought was not enough to comfort her. Explanations were going to be difficult.
"Sorry about last night," she said, hoping to forestall any tricky questions. "We went out. I did ask George to have a word with you, but it looks as if he hasn’t had a chance yet." Before her dad could say any more, Ginny decided she might as well tell him everything. She knew that he would be much more likely than her mother to hear her out and that he wouldn’t allow his opinion to be so easily swayed by anything in the press. He’d had enough experience with the Daily Prophet mis-reporting doings at the Ministry to understand how the media could manipulate public opinion. "If only Mum had the same understanding…," she thought wistfully.
Ginny steeled herself and launched into her explanation. "Since you said Mum is upset, you must have known that Harry was living here before you turned up this morning." She saw her father open his mouth to respond, but she held up a hand to stop him. "Please hear me out, Dad, things are more complicated than Mum knows. Harry’s living here, my suspension at the Ministry, Fred and George… they’re all connected." She paused here to turn the bacon and take a sip of her tea. "I imagine it would be easier to understand if I began at the beginning." And so, she told her father about the strange events that had occurred over the previous week.
She was still in the middle of her story, when Harry came into the kitchen and sat down at the table. She handed him a plate of bacon and eggs, along with a mug of tea, and filled a plate for herself, before sitting down and continuing. When she’d finished her explanation, she saw that her father’s facial expression had gone quite serious. "I don’t like this," he said slowly. "I wish you’d moved back home when this all started. You still could…"
Ginny cut him off with a bitter laugh. "Oh, yes, wouldn’t that be fun? Do you want to live in the middle of a battleground between Mum and me?"
"Yes, Ginny, I see your point," he said resignedly. "Your mother is not one to let things like this go easily. And you, young lady, are a great deal like her. I’d still like to see you try to work things out with her, that’s what concerns me more than anything. And as far as your safety is concerned…"
"Look, so far my safety hasn’t been threatened. Not really. They may just be trying to shake me up. And I have taken steps to ensure my safety here. Now that I think about it, Fred and George must have hired me in order to keep an eye on me, as well. How would the situation be any different if I were living at the Burrow?"
"Your mother would say that if you were living at home, at least you wouldn’t come out of the situation looking like a scarlet woman." Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but her father went on. "Your mother would say that, I won’t. I know young people do things differently these days. When your mother and I were your age, there was no question of us living together before we were married. But times are different now, and you are an adult. It’s no longer my place to tell you what you can and cannot do. Just promise me you’ll be careful, whatever you do."
"I will, Dad. But would you do me a favour and try to make Mum understand what’s going on? She’ll listen to you where she won’t listen to me."
Arthur smiled a bit at this, and his tone softened. "Ginny, I can try, if you think it will help smooth things over between the two of you, but I can’t promise you miracles. Your mother has a very hard head where it concerns her children. But her heart’s in the right place. You know, she does want you to be happy."
"Yes, I know Dad," said Ginny sadly. "We just don’t happen to agree on what makes me happy."
Arthur rose to leave. "I’ll be off home now." He gave Ginny a hug and then turned to Harry. "Watch out for my daughter," he said, extending his hand.
Harry took the proffered hand and shook it. "I will." It sounded like a promise. "For as long as she needs me."
When Arthur had gone, Harry and Ginny returned to their breakfast in silence. Ginny fully realised that they really ought to discuss what had happened between them earlier, but she had no idea how to broach the subject. As she drank the last of her tea, she began to feel rather irritated. After all, Harry was the one with experience in these matters. Shouldn’t he be the one to bring it up?
The silence stretched out between them, until finally Ginny was sure she’d go mad if she didn’t say something, anything, to break it. "So, Harry, what did you and my dad talk about while I was off getting dressed?"
He jumped a bit when she said this. He’d obviously been off in his own little world. "Oh, erm, not much." She watched him shift uncomfortably in his seat. "He wanted to know why I was holding a wand on him. I just tried to explain the situation to him without arousing too much concern. I am glad you told him the whole story, though, because I don’t think I did a very good job of it."
He fell silent again, and Ginny felt like screaming. After a moment he looked up and said, "Listen, I need to go out this morning. I’ve got to take those books back up to Hogwarts library." Ginny gaped at him, too stunned to say anything, as he stood, put his breakfast dishes in the sink, and left the kitchen. A minute later she heard the front door close behind him.
*
Harry walked quickly through Hogsmeade, cursing himself for a coward. He really did need to return the books to the library, but the truth of the matter was he needed to get away and think. He knew that eventually he and Ginny would have to have a serious discussion, but at the moment he wasn’t ready to face that possibility. He would have to sort out his own feelings first. And that was the problem. He’d never before had to consider the way personal feelings might become entangled with a physical relationship, and he found the prospect daunting. He knew he wanted Ginny, he ached for her, and after this morning he had little doubt that she felt the same. But there was something else underlying the want, something rather terrifying in its unfamiliarity. He’d confronted Lord Voldemort, but he didn’t know how to confront this.
He arrived in the Entrance Hall no closer to forming any sort of conclusion than he had been when he’d left the house. It was a Sunday morning near the end of term, and the Hall was fairly deserted. In Harry’s years at Hogwarts, he would have been outside enjoying the sunshine on such a day. If there had been students on the grounds today he hadn’t noticed them, wrapped up as he had been in his thoughts.
He climbed the marble staircase, headed for the library. Turning a corner, he stopped short, surprised, as if he’d seen a ghost. In fact he had, but it was not a ghost he would have expected to see haunting the halls of Hogwarts. It was the ghost of Draco Malfoy.
Harry had not seen Malfoy since the day before Voldemort’s final defeat. Draco looked exactly the same now as he had on that day five years ago, except for one thing. He was now white and transparent. To Harry, the change in appearance was a small one, given Draco’s natural colouring. At any rate, he’d retained his sneering expression.
Malfoy, even in ghostly form, obviously recognised his former nemesis, for he crossed his arms and nodded. "Potter."
Harry nodded back, somewhat warily. He fought to keep a surprised tone out of his voice. "Malfoy."
"Fancy meeting you here. Having a look about the old place?"
The old animosity had transcended the grave, seemingly, for Malfoy hovered in mid-air, blocking Harry’s path. Harry could have continued on through him, but he didn’t feel like subjecting himself to the sensation of being submersed in ice. "You could say that. Listen, I’m in a bit of a hurry. Would you mind letting me pass?"
This admission was likely a mistake, Harry reflected, for it seemed to make Malfoy more talkative than ever. The after-life must not provide very much companionship, if Malfoy was content to pass the time making idle chit-chat with him.
"In good time, Potter," he drawled, "in good time. I was just having a look about, myself."
"Thought you’d have a look at the place where you met your demise?" Harry asked, waspishly.
"My untimely demise," Malfoy corrected him, venomously, "at the hands of my own father."
So the rumours were true, Harry thought. Aloud, he said, "why don’t you go haunt him, then?"
Malfoy laughed sardonically. "Oh, I have been, Potter. Lucius hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in the past five years."
"And what has that got to do with me?" Harry asked in an impatient voice.
"Maybe nothing. Maybe I’m just so desperate for someone to talk to that I’m willing to settle for you. Or maybe I could tell you something useful. You decide."
Harry decided quickly that Malfoy was trying to pull one over on him. After all, how could Draco have known he would come up to Hogwarts today? And what could Draco possibly tell him? And why would he want to? "I think I’d like to go through now, thanks."
Malfoy floated aside, letting Harry pass on to the library. He left the books with Madam Pince and went back outdoors. He didn’t see Malfoy again; whatever place Draco had chosen to haunt now, it wasn’t in Harry’s path. He continued back down the road towards Hogsmeade, walking more slowly this time.
He took his time, because he knew Ginny was waiting at home for him. The thought comforted him, yet at the same time frightened him. They needed to have a conversation he still was not prepared to face. It was a conversation he’d never needed to have with anyone until now. He paused, sitting down under a tree by the way, and considered why this should be. Why was Ginny so different from other women?
He thought of the image of Ginny laughing with her friends in the Common Room, an image he’d always carried with him like an icon. It had been both a burden and a solace to him in the dark years at the end of the war and immediately following. He had had to push Ginny, the person, away, but he had been able to retain the image, which was his and his alone. He could still hear the sound of her ringing laugh in his mind. At times he had resented that sound. It had served to remind him that laughter was not for him.
Later, he had been drawn to other women by their laughter. He had thought he could share it with them, but always there had been something missing. He realised now that he had been seeking a replacement, and that was why he’d never been satisfied. He could be satiated on a purely physical level, but he’d eventually found there was nothing beyond that with any of them. In the end, he was left feeling empty and unfulfilled.
He thought once more of Ginny as she had been at the wedding, and how she had seemed as untouchable as ever. But she hadn’t been. He’d been allowed to dance with her, allowed to hold her, and it had seemed to him a reward for all the years he’d waited.
Now when he tried to call up the memory of her laughter, he heard other things. He heard an angry young woman rowing with her mother, complaining about her job, railing at him for talking to her brothers… He was discovering just how complex a person she could be. The laughter was still there, but so were other facets: fierce independence, a strong will, determination, a sense of fun, sensuality… No, she wasn’t perfect by any means, but there was so much to love about her.
Harry caught his breath. Was that what this feeling was? Love? He stood suddenly and began running toward Ginny’s cottage. He had to tell her. He could do this now. He was ready to face her.
Harry burst through the front door, breathless from running. He quickly scanned the living room and saw to his disappointment that it was empty.
"Ginny?" he called. There was no reply.
Perhaps she was in her garden. It was a pleasant day, after all. He strode through the kitchen, noting in passing that she’d left the dirty breakfast dishes in the sink. He went into the garden, expecting to see her weeding one of the flower beds, but he saw no sign of her.
"Ginny!" he shouted. Again there was no answer, only the sound of his own voice echoing back to him.
Harry fought a rising sense of panic, as he walked quickly around the perimeter of the garden, looking for any possible sign of her. He saw nothing.
"Ginny!" he cried, although he was sure she would have answered by now, had she been within earshot.
He went back into the house and looked through all the rooms. She was nowhere to be found, nor did he see any sign that she’d left him a note telling him where she’d gone. He sat down in the living room and tried to think the situation through rationally, but the same thought kept leaping to his mind, the idea that she hadn’t gone anywhere… willingly. His blood ran cold, and he buried his face in his hands. Had she been taken from him by whoever it was who had been threatening her?
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.
Ginny must have eventually fallen asleep, because she woke with a start on Sunday morning. She thought a noise had brought her so abruptly back to consciousness and listened carefully but heard nothing further. She lay back in bed and waited for her heart to stop pounding. Fumbling for her watch on her night table, she saw the hand pointing to "might as well get up".
She sighed. She didn’t feel like rising just yet, but, groggy as she felt, she didn’t think she’d be able to get back to sleep now. She still felt restless and confused about Harry’s actions. Last night had been wonderful. She still had difficulty equating the awkward teen-aged Harry she’d had a crush on with the man who’d given her roses and taken her out. They almost seemed like two different people. In a way, she supposed, they were. But somehow, she felt, something was missing.
Sighing once more, Ginny decided she might as well get up, as her watch indicated. Lying in bed brooding would do her no good. She tied on her dressing gown, intending to take a quick shower. Opening her bedroom door quietly, in case Harry was still asleep, she stepped into the living room and froze. She suddenly felt wide awake.
Harry was most definitely not asleep. He was standing in the middle of the living room, wearing no more than a pair of shorts, working out with some hand weights. His back was turned part-way towards her, and he didn’t seem to be aware of her presence. She watched in fascination as his arm muscles flexed and unflexed repeatedly. It was obvious to Ginny that Harry had been doing this sort of thing for some time. His frame, while still wiry, had acquired a certain bulk to it. She felt her eyes widen and her mouth go dry as her brain registered the fine sheen of perspiration that covered his back. The air seemed to thicken about her. She finally had to lean against the wall for support and clench her fists in an effort to resist the urge to go over and touch…
She thought Harry must have felt her gaze burning into his skin, because he turned around without warning and saw her. Ginny forced herself to meet his eyes, feeling heat rise in her face at being caught staring. Harry cleared his throat. "I’m sorry. Did I wake you? I dropped a weight earlier." That explained the noise she’d heard. When she didn’t answer, Harry went on, "I brought these over from my flat yesterday. Have to keep in shape, even if I am on holiday. I’ve already taken a week off…"
He trailed off, and took a step towards her. Ginny noticed he was no longer looking her in the eye, as he continued to advance. Following the direction of his gaze downward, she realised that she’d tied her dressing gown quite haphazardly, and, at the moment, was revealing more of her night dress than seemed wise. She blushed even more as she clutched the lapels of her dressing gown close to her throat.
Harry stopped moving towards her at this. She met his gaze again, absently noting the rigidity of his stance. She forced herself to speak. "I’m just going to take a quick shower. Carry on."
As she entered the bathroom, she thought she heard him make an incoherent sound, almost a splutter, but then she decided it must have been her imagination.
Ginny stepped out of the shower a few minutes later and reached for a towel to dry herself. She leaned over to squeeze the excess water from her hair before taking her wand to perform a dessicatum spell. Suddenly, she heard a noise coming from the living room. It sounded to her as if Harry had cried out in pain. She hastily tied the belt of her dressing gown and rushed to see what the trouble was.
She found him sitting on the sofa gripping his left shoulder with his right hand. Going over and sitting beside him, she asked in a concerned voice, "What is it, Harry?"
Harry looked at her, grimacing in pain. "Cramp. In my shoulder," he grated.
Ginny moved around to his other side. Pushing away his hand, she began to probe at his upper back, quickly locating a mass of knotted muscle near the junction of his shoulder and neck. Harry groaned, as she began to massage the spot. After a few minutes, she could feel the muscles relax beneath her fingers. She continued to knead, more gently now, as the remaining tension eased out of Harry’s shoulder, until finally, he placed his hand over hers. He lifted her hand, entangling their fingers. Then he turned on the sofa until he was facing her, his eyes boring into hers.
"Thank you," he said thickly. "I suppose I was overdoing…" His voice trailed off, and he brought her hand to his lips. Then he turned Ginny’s hand over and kissed the delicate skin of her inner wrist, causing a shiver to pass through her. His eyes never left hers as he did this, and now she watched, transfixed, as those eyes moved closer until she was caught up in his kiss. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she gave herself over to the sensation of weightlessness that invaded her. She felt him grasp her by the hips and pull her into his lap, drawing her ever closer. She twined her hands in his hair, and returned his kiss with equal passion, until…
Suddenly he broke off, leaving her bereft. He stared at her for a moment, his breath coming in shallow gasps. He opened his mouth as if to say something, and in that instant, Ginny knew he was going to stop them. No! shouted a voice in her head. Desperately she reached for him, before he could say anything, and brought his lips back to hers. She kissed him fervently then, felt his arms tighten around her, and knew she had won the battle with his control. She allowed him to take over then, letting him push her back onto the sofa. She trembled when she felt his fingers touch her throat and then trace a line down the centre of her sternum. His lips left hers to follow the same path, and at the same time she felt him tug at the belt of her dressing gown.
Suddenly, there came a knock at the front door. Harry and Ginny both jumped at the sound, and then lay motionless, staring into each other’s eyes. Ginny could see that Harry was flushed and dishevelled and knew she must look much the same. For a long minute neither of them moved, as the full reality of the situation sunk in. Then the knock sounded again.
Harry sat up and ran a hand through his hair, which only served to make it look more unkempt. Finally he said, "You’re not expecting your mother, are you?"
Ginny swallowed. She sincerely hoped her mother hadn’t come back for another row. Unfortunately, Molly seemed to have a knack for turning up at the worst possible moment lately. Knowing she ought to answer, she said at last, "No, I’m not expecting anyone."
The knock was heard for a third time, and Ginny knew there was nothing for it. She stood up rather shakily, straightened her dressing gown, tightened the belt, and went to answer the door.
"Wait," said Harry. "We don’t know who’s out there." He picked his wand up off the end table and moved to stand with her, as she opened the door. There on the threshold stood her father.
"Dad," Ginny said in a surprised tone, "what brings you by?"
Arthur didn’t answer right away. His eyes widened in surprise for an instant, perhaps as a result of seeing Harry standing there with his wand trained on him. Out of the corner of her eye, Ginny saw Harry lower his wand. Arthur looked at them both for a long moment, taking in their appearance. Reflexively, Ginny raised a hand to her throat and pulled her lapels closer, a blush beginning to stain her cheeks. Arthur’s tone, when he finally spoke, was rather concerned. "Good morning, Ginny. Do you mind if I come in?"
Ginny tried to hide her chagrin, but didn’t know if she was very successful. "Sure, Dad. Have a seat." She indicated the sofa. "Erm… Look, if you don’t mind, I need to get dressed." She saw Harry shoot her a rather desperate glance at the prospect of being left alone with her father, but she felt she had little choice. If she tried to discuss anything with her dad dressed as she was now, it would only serve to remind him of how bad the situation looked. Besides, she was grateful for the chance to escape for a few minutes to collect her scattered thoughts.
She took her time about getting dressed. Her mind was insisting on replaying certain events, and she found this distracting. She knew that if her father hadn’t interrupted, she and Harry would have… She shook herself. Now was not the time to think about that. She still had her father to face, and she would just have to ignore the small triumphant voice in her head that kept on telling her she’d won.
When she emerged from the bedroom, she saw that Harry had seated himself in an armchair and was at least talking to her dad in a calm manner. She also noted with a certain amount of relief that Harry had found a T-shirt to put on. He and her father seemed to have reached some sort of understanding, but Ginny did not find out what that was right away, because the two men stopped talking as soon as she entered the living room. Harry stood up. "Listen," he said, "if you don’t mind, I’ll be getting dressed myself."
Ginny turned to him. "Go on, then." As he brushed by her on his way to the bathroom, she felt him squeeze her arm fleetingly. She turned back to address her father. "Sorry, Dad, do you mind if we talk in the kitchen? Neither of us has had breakfast. Can I make you some breakfast or a cup of tea?"
"Just some tea, thanks. I’ve already eaten."
Once Arthur was seated at the kitchen table, Ginny set about preparing a quick breakfast. She didn’t say anything right away. She hadn’t the slightest idea how to begin to explain the situation. When the silence had stretched to the point of becoming uncomfortable, she finally resolved to break it. "I suppose Fred and George have been to see you." She set a mug of hot tea in front of her father as she said this, and saw a surprised look cross his face.
"No. What could they possibly have to do with any of this? I’m here, because your mother is very upset. I tried to get hold of you last night through the fire, but there was no answer." Ginny sighed. She thought he sounded disappointed and couldn’t remember that he’d ever taken that tone with her. Perhaps with the twins a time or two, when they’d taken a joke too far, but never with her. The thought of the twins caused a spark of annoyance to pass through her. George had promised to have a word with Dad. She supposed he’d hadn’t had time yet, but that thought was not enough to comfort her. Explanations were going to be difficult.
"Sorry about last night," she said, hoping to forestall any tricky questions. "We went out. I did ask George to have a word with you, but it looks as if he hasn’t had a chance yet." Before her dad could say any more, Ginny decided she might as well tell him everything. She knew that he would be much more likely than her mother to hear her out and that he wouldn’t allow his opinion to be so easily swayed by anything in the press. He’d had enough experience with the Daily Prophet mis-reporting doings at the Ministry to understand how the media could manipulate public opinion. "If only Mum had the same understanding…," she thought wistfully.
Ginny steeled herself and launched into her explanation. "Since you said Mum is upset, you must have known that Harry was living here before you turned up this morning." She saw her father open his mouth to respond, but she held up a hand to stop him. "Please hear me out, Dad, things are more complicated than Mum knows. Harry’s living here, my suspension at the Ministry, Fred and George… they’re all connected." She paused here to turn the bacon and take a sip of her tea. "I imagine it would be easier to understand if I began at the beginning." And so, she told her father about the strange events that had occurred over the previous week.
She was still in the middle of her story, when Harry came into the kitchen and sat down at the table. She handed him a plate of bacon and eggs, along with a mug of tea, and filled a plate for herself, before sitting down and continuing. When she’d finished her explanation, she saw that her father’s facial expression had gone quite serious. "I don’t like this," he said slowly. "I wish you’d moved back home when this all started. You still could…"
Ginny cut him off with a bitter laugh. "Oh, yes, wouldn’t that be fun? Do you want to live in the middle of a battleground between Mum and me?"
"Yes, Ginny, I see your point," he said resignedly. "Your mother is not one to let things like this go easily. And you, young lady, are a great deal like her. I’d still like to see you try to work things out with her, that’s what concerns me more than anything. And as far as your safety is concerned…"
"Look, so far my safety hasn’t been threatened. Not really. They may just be trying to shake me up. And I have taken steps to ensure my safety here. Now that I think about it, Fred and George must have hired me in order to keep an eye on me, as well. How would the situation be any different if I were living at the Burrow?"
"Your mother would say that if you were living at home, at least you wouldn’t come out of the situation looking like a scarlet woman." Ginny opened her mouth to protest, but her father went on. "Your mother would say that, I won’t. I know young people do things differently these days. When your mother and I were your age, there was no question of us living together before we were married. But times are different now, and you are an adult. It’s no longer my place to tell you what you can and cannot do. Just promise me you’ll be careful, whatever you do."
"I will, Dad. But would you do me a favour and try to make Mum understand what’s going on? She’ll listen to you where she won’t listen to me."
Arthur smiled a bit at this, and his tone softened. "Ginny, I can try, if you think it will help smooth things over between the two of you, but I can’t promise you miracles. Your mother has a very hard head where it concerns her children. But her heart’s in the right place. You know, she does want you to be happy."
"Yes, I know Dad," said Ginny sadly. "We just don’t happen to agree on what makes me happy."
Arthur rose to leave. "I’ll be off home now." He gave Ginny a hug and then turned to Harry. "Watch out for my daughter," he said, extending his hand.
Harry took the proffered hand and shook it. "I will." It sounded like a promise. "For as long as she needs me."
When Arthur had gone, Harry and Ginny returned to their breakfast in silence. Ginny fully realised that they really ought to discuss what had happened between them earlier, but she had no idea how to broach the subject. As she drank the last of her tea, she began to feel rather irritated. After all, Harry was the one with experience in these matters. Shouldn’t he be the one to bring it up?
The silence stretched out between them, until finally Ginny was sure she’d go mad if she didn’t say something, anything, to break it. "So, Harry, what did you and my dad talk about while I was off getting dressed?"
He jumped a bit when she said this. He’d obviously been off in his own little world. "Oh, erm, not much." She watched him shift uncomfortably in his seat. "He wanted to know why I was holding a wand on him. I just tried to explain the situation to him without arousing too much concern. I am glad you told him the whole story, though, because I don’t think I did a very good job of it."
He fell silent again, and Ginny felt like screaming. After a moment he looked up and said, "Listen, I need to go out this morning. I’ve got to take those books back up to Hogwarts library." Ginny gaped at him, too stunned to say anything, as he stood, put his breakfast dishes in the sink, and left the kitchen. A minute later she heard the front door close behind him.
*
Harry walked quickly through Hogsmeade, cursing himself for a coward. He really did need to return the books to the library, but the truth of the matter was he needed to get away and think. He knew that eventually he and Ginny would have to have a serious discussion, but at the moment he wasn’t ready to face that possibility. He would have to sort out his own feelings first. And that was the problem. He’d never before had to consider the way personal feelings might become entangled with a physical relationship, and he found the prospect daunting. He knew he wanted Ginny, he ached for her, and after this morning he had little doubt that she felt the same. But there was something else underlying the want, something rather terrifying in its unfamiliarity. He’d confronted Lord Voldemort, but he didn’t know how to confront this.
He arrived in the Entrance Hall no closer to forming any sort of conclusion than he had been when he’d left the house. It was a Sunday morning near the end of term, and the Hall was fairly deserted. In Harry’s years at Hogwarts, he would have been outside enjoying the sunshine on such a day. If there had been students on the grounds today he hadn’t noticed them, wrapped up as he had been in his thoughts.
He climbed the marble staircase, headed for the library. Turning a corner, he stopped short, surprised, as if he’d seen a ghost. In fact he had, but it was not a ghost he would have expected to see haunting the halls of Hogwarts. It was the ghost of Draco Malfoy.
Harry had not seen Malfoy since the day before Voldemort’s final defeat. Draco looked exactly the same now as he had on that day five years ago, except for one thing. He was now white and transparent. To Harry, the change in appearance was a small one, given Draco’s natural colouring. At any rate, he’d retained his sneering expression.
Malfoy, even in ghostly form, obviously recognised his former nemesis, for he crossed his arms and nodded. "Potter."
Harry nodded back, somewhat warily. He fought to keep a surprised tone out of his voice. "Malfoy."
"Fancy meeting you here. Having a look about the old place?"
The old animosity had transcended the grave, seemingly, for Malfoy hovered in mid-air, blocking Harry’s path. Harry could have continued on through him, but he didn’t feel like subjecting himself to the sensation of being submersed in ice. "You could say that. Listen, I’m in a bit of a hurry. Would you mind letting me pass?"
This admission was likely a mistake, Harry reflected, for it seemed to make Malfoy more talkative than ever. The after-life must not provide very much companionship, if Malfoy was content to pass the time making idle chit-chat with him.
"In good time, Potter," he drawled, "in good time. I was just having a look about, myself."
"Thought you’d have a look at the place where you met your demise?" Harry asked, waspishly.
"My untimely demise," Malfoy corrected him, venomously, "at the hands of my own father."
So the rumours were true, Harry thought. Aloud, he said, "why don’t you go haunt him, then?"
Malfoy laughed sardonically. "Oh, I have been, Potter. Lucius hasn’t had a good night’s sleep in the past five years."
"And what has that got to do with me?" Harry asked in an impatient voice.
"Maybe nothing. Maybe I’m just so desperate for someone to talk to that I’m willing to settle for you. Or maybe I could tell you something useful. You decide."
Harry decided quickly that Malfoy was trying to pull one over on him. After all, how could Draco have known he would come up to Hogwarts today? And what could Draco possibly tell him? And why would he want to? "I think I’d like to go through now, thanks."
Malfoy floated aside, letting Harry pass on to the library. He left the books with Madam Pince and went back outdoors. He didn’t see Malfoy again; whatever place Draco had chosen to haunt now, it wasn’t in Harry’s path. He continued back down the road towards Hogsmeade, walking more slowly this time.
He took his time, because he knew Ginny was waiting at home for him. The thought comforted him, yet at the same time frightened him. They needed to have a conversation he still was not prepared to face. It was a conversation he’d never needed to have with anyone until now. He paused, sitting down under a tree by the way, and considered why this should be. Why was Ginny so different from other women?
He thought of the image of Ginny laughing with her friends in the Common Room, an image he’d always carried with him like an icon. It had been both a burden and a solace to him in the dark years at the end of the war and immediately following. He had had to push Ginny, the person, away, but he had been able to retain the image, which was his and his alone. He could still hear the sound of her ringing laugh in his mind. At times he had resented that sound. It had served to remind him that laughter was not for him.
Later, he had been drawn to other women by their laughter. He had thought he could share it with them, but always there had been something missing. He realised now that he had been seeking a replacement, and that was why he’d never been satisfied. He could be satiated on a purely physical level, but he’d eventually found there was nothing beyond that with any of them. In the end, he was left feeling empty and unfulfilled.
He thought once more of Ginny as she had been at the wedding, and how she had seemed as untouchable as ever. But she hadn’t been. He’d been allowed to dance with her, allowed to hold her, and it had seemed to him a reward for all the years he’d waited.
Now when he tried to call up the memory of her laughter, he heard other things. He heard an angry young woman rowing with her mother, complaining about her job, railing at him for talking to her brothers… He was discovering just how complex a person she could be. The laughter was still there, but so were other facets: fierce independence, a strong will, determination, a sense of fun, sensuality… No, she wasn’t perfect by any means, but there was so much to love about her.
Harry caught his breath. Was that what this feeling was? Love? He stood suddenly and began running toward Ginny’s cottage. He had to tell her. He could do this now. He was ready to face her.
Harry burst through the front door, breathless from running. He quickly scanned the living room and saw to his disappointment that it was empty.
"Ginny?" he called. There was no reply.
Perhaps she was in her garden. It was a pleasant day, after all. He strode through the kitchen, noting in passing that she’d left the dirty breakfast dishes in the sink. He went into the garden, expecting to see her weeding one of the flower beds, but he saw no sign of her.
"Ginny!" he shouted. Again there was no answer, only the sound of his own voice echoing back to him.
Harry fought a rising sense of panic, as he walked quickly around the perimeter of the garden, looking for any possible sign of her. He saw nothing.
"Ginny!" he cried, although he was sure she would have answered by now, had she been within earshot.
He went back into the house and looked through all the rooms. She was nowhere to be found, nor did he see any sign that she’d left him a note telling him where she’d gone. He sat down in the living room and tried to think the situation through rationally, but the same thought kept leaping to his mind, the idea that she hadn’t gone anywhere… willingly. His blood ran cold, and he buried his face in his hands. Had she been taken from him by whoever it was who had been threatening her?
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