A Dursleyish Disaster

Harry peeled open his eyes and glanced around. There was a soft snoring sound coming from the corner. He groped around and soon his hands closed around a pair of glasses, taped together in the middle. Harry quickly shoved them on and was in the process of going to his wardrobe to get changed when he realised he was already fully clothed. He glanced at the clock which indicated that it was early morning. He stepped across the room, careful to avoid the loose floorboard which creaked when stepped on, and reached out in the dark for the light switch,

“Arrrgghhh!” he yelped, as he toppled head first into the doorway.

The squashy thing which Harry had tripped over gave a cry of agony and writhed uncontrollably in its corner. Harry quickly withdrew his wand from his pocket and stumbled to his feet. Another shadowy figure stirred, sleepily taking in its surroundings.

“Ron! Oh, what are you doing, you idiot? Be quiet!” said the rather bushy haired girl as she untangled herself from one of Dudley’s old sleeping bags.

Harry fumbled for the light. Click. A vivid red-haired figure came into view, clutching his stomach and gasping for breath. Ron had been lying in a second sleeping bag positioned roughly in the middle of the floor when Harry had tripped over him. Harry stared at them both, wondering how on earth they had come to be there. Almost immediately, as he looked at Hermione, the whole of last night’s events came flooding back. He remembered quite clearly that there had been a lot of throwing and dodging of china plates. In a few days time it would be Bill and Fleur’s wedding and the Dursley’s had certainly not been happy when Ron and Hermione had turned up on their doorstep, earlier yesterday, requesting to stay with Harry for a while until he was ready to leave for The Burrow. In fact, in keeping with the usual Dursley standards, they had completely overreacted. Afterwards though, they had calmed down slightly and Harry had scraped a compromise; that if Ron and Hermione could stay, they would never see Harry again after he left with them. That was enough to convince the Dursleys. Uncle Vernon had warned that ‘if there was any funny business, they’d be out in the blink of an eye’.

“Sorry,” Harry mumbled groggily, sweeping his hair out of his face.

He went over to his bed and collapsed on it rubbing his head where he had hit it from falling. He stuffed his wand back into his pocket and ran his fingers through his hair. Hermione crossed the room silently and listened through the open door. Uncle Vernon gave a loud snoring grunt, and she quickly but steadily closed it.

“What were you two playing at?” Hermione whispered, glaring at them both, “if you’ve woken them up…”

“Don’t worry, they sleep like logs. I should know. I’ve had to put up with them for sixteen years!” Harry yawned.

Hermione seemed unconvinced and gave Harry a scathing look as she walked over to her own sleeping bag. Settling herself in with a rather loud tut, she muttered something that sounded a lot like ‘boys’.

“What happened?” she asked, staring suspiciously through heavy lidded eyes.

“I’m sorry,” Harry started, “I woke up and totally forgot you two were here. I was going to switch on my light and I tripped over Ron.”

Ron choked loudly at the mention of his name and sounded obviously winded. Hermione got grudgingly to her feet and walked over to him, giving him a sharp slap on the back. He stopped coughing and took a deep, shuddering breath, slumping in Hermione’s arms. Hermione let go in embarrassment and sank down beside Ron, rolling her eyes in reaction to Harry’s statement.

“Oh, come on Hermione, it’s not as if I did it on purpose!” Harry retorted.

Ron who had just regained his use of speech after having a choking fit rushed to Harry’s defence.

“Yeah Hermione, it was quite dark,” he croaked

Hermione sighed deeply, tying her hair into a loose bobble. She shook her head and buried her face in her hands.

“Yes but even so…” she said desperately, looking up at them, “Another stunt like that and we will be kicked out. We have to be more careful”.

“I suppose so,” muttered Harry.

“Yeah,” Ron agreed.

*********************************************************************

It was the night before Harry’s birthday. Ron, Harry and Hermione were gathered around the Dursley kitchen table, having a whispered conversation.

“Harry, I know that you’ve not had your test, and you’ve not got your Apparation licence and -” Hermione stopped abruptly, “Ron,” she continued more delicately as this was a very touchy subject with Ron, “Ron, you didn’t pass yours, but still…”

Ron had turned very pale and stiff. His knuckles were white with the force he was using to clutch the table.

“I know Harry can do it, and Ron, if you put your mind to it, I thought we could Apparate to The Burrow,” she finished timidly.

Harry exchanged looks with Hermione. He was sure he was right in thinking that he and Hermione were sharing the same thoughts. Even if Ron did put his mind to it, Harry wasn’t sure Ron would succeed. Ron had only Apparated twice; the first time he had ended up at the wrong destination; the second time he had splinched half an eyebrow.

“Well…” Hermione continued nervously, “I thought the knight bus was too risky…” she trailed off.

Ron was looking down at his feet. Most of the colour had drained from his face as he opened his mouth in an apparent attempt to speak. Instead, he took a deep breath and resumed examining his shoelaces. Hermione glanced nervously at Harry.

“I’m sorry Ron. I knew you’d be uncomfortable with it. I shouldn’t have mentioned -” but she was cut short by a mumble from Ron.

“What?” asked Harry sympathetically.

“I said,” Ron looked up defiantly, “ok, let’s do it”.

*********************************************************************

Harry was in an extremely good mood that evening as he packed his things. It wasn’t the fact that he would be setting off for The Burrow in just a few short hours so much as who he would be seeing there - Ginny! Harry shook himself for the umpteenth time that evening and decided there and then that he had to stop this. I broke up with Ginny last year because I was worried Voldemort would find out and use her to get to me. He told himself firmly. If I keep losing myself in my thoughts like this Voldemort’ll surely find out anyway.

He tried again to keep his thoughts about Ginny at a safe distance, but it was no use, he just couldn’t stop thinking about her. Her flaming red hair, her cinnamon eyes…
NO! Stop it, he told himself. Just as he was getting ready for another battle inside his head, he heard Hermione’s voice nearby.

“Come on Harry. It’s time we were going.” she gestured.

“What, already?” Harry checked his watch and sure enough, they were already late.

He walked across the room and thought, wow, this is the last time I’m gonna see this place. I never thought I would miss Privet Drive. Absentmindedly, he attempted to pull Hedwig and his trunk from the room, when Hermione performed a complicated flick with her wand. Harry jumped with fright as they both vanished from his grip.

“We don’t want them bothering us while we’re on our way,” said Hermione simply.

She walked quickly from the room with her hair swishing merrily. As he followed her out onto the landing, Harry felt a strange sense of absence, like he’d forgotten something.

“Wait, Hermione,” Harry said stopping abruptly at the stairs, “Where’s Ron?”

“Well, he said he was going downstairs because he was a little hungry, so I suppose he’s down in the kitchen,” she stated the obvious, as she reached the bottom of the stairs.

Harry followed her quietly through to the kitchen, being careful to make as little noise as possible and not to get on the wrong side of his aunt and uncle. He wondered silently what on earth he would say to the Dursley’s when he had departed for The Burrow. ‘Thank’s for having me?’ as if, he thought bitterly, what have I got to be thankful for?

He entered the kitchen shuffling his feet and yawned widely. Looking up and scanning the room in search of Ron, he found, strangely enough, that he was no where in sight. He shot Hermione a questioning look.

“Well he can’t have gone far, I wonder where he -” she frowned slightly as her question was cut short by a scream and a crash from the next room.

Harry and Hermione exchanged worried glances and rushed out of the kitchen. Harry pulled out his wand and, pushing open the living room door, collided with a terrified Dudley. His cousin squeaked and eyed Harry’s wand apprehensively, backing against the wall to brace himself against an expected hex. Harry wasn’t surprised at Dudley’s reaction to his raised wand. Dudley had been terrified of magic ever since Hagrid had given him a pig’s tail on Harry’s eleventh birthday. Harry heard a sharp intake of breath from beside him and looked up to find a horror struck Hermione staring into the living room. Harry too looked up and gasped with mild amusement. The scene in front of them was a disaster, a Dursleyish disaster. The Coffee table looked as if it had been blasted aside with some of Aunt Petunia’s china broken (for the second time in three days). Ron’s trunk lay abandoned in the middle of the cream carpet. A ruffled Aunt Petunia was cowering in the corner. Her eyes were shining with horror. Harry had not seen her this terrified since he had informed her that his godfather was a convicted murderer. In another corner, Ron was drawn up to full height, towering over a clearly horrified Uncle Vernon. His wand was sticking painfully into Harry’s uncle’s throat. Ron looked beside himself with rage. Harry quickly rushed towards Ron dragging him back before he could do any serious damage.

“Ron, he’s not worth it, calm down,” He said, still keeping a firm grip on the struggling Ron who looked murderous.

“He…Deserves what’s…coming,” said Ron through gasps, trying relentlessly to escape from Harry’s grip. “He insulted…the things he was saying about…I’ll kill him”.

Harry wondered what on earth his uncle could have said to get Ron this worked up. He was now struggling to maintain his grip on Ron and was just about to ask Hermione for assistance when Ron suddenly stopped writhing and went limp.

Tentatively, Harry let go of Ron, who looked on the verge of attack again. Ron thought better of it and gritted his teeth menacingly before storming from the room and turning in the doorway before carrying on.

“Eat dung Dursley,” he spat and resumed his rampage.

They heard the front door slam and Harry turned to the Dursleys. There were a few moments of uncomfortable silence where all that could be heard was the slow ticking of the clock on the wall.

“Erm, Sorry about that…” he muttered.

Then it suddenly hit him. He was leaving forever and it was him apologising. Wasn’t it the Dursley’s who should be apologising? Hadn’t it been them who had been nasty to him all the time he had lived there, them who had ridiculed him, hated him and always treated him as if he were something dirty on their shoe? A new and powerful rage leapt up inside him.

“You know what, actually, I’m not sorry. Ron is right. You deserve it and I hope I never have the misfortune of putting up with you again,”

He too strolled out of the room. Hermione, quickly vanishing Ron’s trunk, followed suit.

“And good riddance!” he called over his shoulder, as he slammed the door behind him.

Attacked!

Harry swung open the door and stormed from the Dursley’s house. The cold air cut his skin like icy knives. A wide grin was plastered across his face as he strode happily along the path; an elated sensation was swelling in his chest. Hermione stepped out from the Dursley’s door just behind him, tucking a stray hair behind her ear. Her hair seemed to have attained extra frizz and was bushier than ever. Her eyes were narrowed as she gave Harry a withering look before taking a deep breath,

“Was that really necessary, Harry?” she hissed, her hands were on her hips and her teeth were gritted. “Come on, we were in enough of a predicament as it was, without you -” Harry couldn’t believe her. She always had to ruin things by letting her bossy and rule-abiding temperament take over. He cut her off angrily, his mouth hanging open in disbelief.

“Hermione, can’t you give it a rest for one second! Look, trust me, they deserved it,” he growled, staring her down. Hermione looked scandalized at being spoken to in this way but closed her mouth grudgingly and didn’t say another word.

Harry took advantage of the stony silence and began scanning Privet Drive for Ron. Ron was sitting on a wall, still shaking with rage. His eyes were narrowed and his hands were curled into fists. His ears had turned their famous scarlet and his breathing was heavy. Harry made his way cautiously towards Ron and slumped down on the wall beside him, eager to hear what Ron had to say. He opened his mouth to ask Ron about what had happened, but Hermione, who had snuck up unnoticed, got there first.

“Ron!” she growled, piercing Ron with a deathly stare. “What on earth were you playing at? I shudder to think what would have happened if Harry and I hadn’t arrived! You could have done magic on Muggles! And there is a law for the reasonable restriction for underage sorcery!” she rambled breathlessly. Harry scowled at her, she never seemed to be able to see things from anywhere other than her point of view. Ron glowered at her with his mouth slightly open. He too, seemed to be in disbelief at Hermione’s lack of understanding.

“Hermione, if you hadn’t noticed, I came of age about four months ago, so technically, I wouldn’t be breaking any law for underage sorcery!” he retorted, staring her down boldly. Hermione’s flushed a faint pink at this comment.

“Yes, well!” she blustered, seemingly unable to come back, but… “You’d have still done magic on Muggles and that’s an offence under the Decree for the International Statute of Secrecy!” she finished. Ron was gawping at her as if she had sprouted another head. She really doesn’t know what the Dursley’s are like Harry thought bitterly. Ron’s arms were hanging limply at his sides. He sighed and shook his head grudgingly.

“Look, Hermione, I couldn’t just leave it. He was saying really nasty stuff about you, and when I say nasty I mean nasty. I couldn’t just let the filthy scumbag get away with it. Look, I only did it for you -” Ron trailed off. Hermione snorted and clucked her tongue impatiently, but Harry could see through the darkness that she was blushing furiously at what Ron had just said; ‘I only did it for you’.

Harry wondered vaguely if the two would ever manage to get through a day without an argument. He knew, of course, why they did it. It seemed everybody did except them. They obviously liked each other. Harry just wished they’d hurry up and admit it. His train of thought was suddenly disrupted by Hermione’s angered tones.

“Come on,” she whispered, not taking her eyes off Ron, “It’s getting late, we’d better go.” Harry looked down at his watch, which now showed it was nearly ten. He nodded and the three of them slid reluctantly off the wall.

The night was dark and blustery and the stars were clearly visible in the inky blue sky. It was icy and the cold breeze was rustling the neat gardens, the orderly suburban houses sat innocently in the dark. The three’s feet crunched on the gravel as they set off into the night.

As Harry made his way to the far end of Privet Drive he thought longingly of The Burrow and of the delicious meal that was probably awaiting him. Mrs Weasley was the best cook he had ever met and she made the most scrumptious meals he had ever tasted. He hadn’t realised, until now, how hungry he actually was. He hadn’t eaten all day, and now the effects of having an empty stomach were starting to take hold. His stomach groaned with longing.

The Burrow was his favourite place in the world (aside from Hogwarts of course). He loved everything about it; from the magical clock that showed the whereabouts of all the Weasley’s, to the crooked form the building took. He remembered all the times he had spent there. It was almost like home to him; well more ‘home’ than he could ever call Privet Drive any way. The Weasley’s were as good as family to him and he always felt at home with them.

A happy bubble swelled inside his chest as his thoughts landed, yet again, on Ginny. He could almost smell her flowery scent; feel her silky red locks… This time he had to practically kick himself to stop these unfathomable thoughts about her entering his mind, and ended up tripping over one of his own feet in the attempt. He collapsed with a thud and lay sprawled out, cursing, on the pavement. It was cold and hard. His grazed hands stung painfully.

Ron ran his fingers through his hair absent mindedly and stopped abruptly, looking down upon Harry with amusement.

“Can’t think how you managed that,” he chuckled, offering Harry his hand. Harry took it gratefully and was hoisted to his feet. Ron still seemed anger shaken but he had calmed down a little and was now breathing normally.

“I -” But Harry didn’t finish his sentence. For at that moment there came a terrified scream from behind him. Harry froze, his mind was racing and his heart thudding. He looked over at Ron. He was staring around wildly, his eyes were wide.

Harry turned with baited breath, the darkness pressing in on his eyes. He let out a sound somewhere between a gasp and a moan. No less than seven Death Eaters stood before him; all were leering down at him through slits in their Death Eater masks. Harry remembered how they had looked the night Voldemort had stepped out of that cauldron. Some of them were large and bulky others small and weedy looking. A large and rather bulky looking one had Hermione in a head lock. Hermione was screaming and writhing in his grip. Although she was putting up a mighty fight, the Death Eater was so large that Hermione’s kicks were having no effect upon him at all. Harry was too scared to think and stood there frozen to the spot. Then one thought flowed into his empty horror stricken mind; wand.

Harry withdrew his wand, his hands clammy and hot, but he wasn’t quick enough.

“Expeliarmus!” yelled a Death Eater to his right. Harry’s wand went soaring into the air, as did Ron’s and the Death Eater caught them with a snigger. Ron seemed incapable of movement; he stood rooted to the spot, shaking. He had gone rigid and all of the colour his face had attained since leaving Privet Drive had drained away. The hand that had withdrawn his wand was still positioned in the air, paralysed. Harry’s heart sank. Why hadn’t he seen this coming? Three teenagers outside in the middle of the night, in these dark times - a Death Eater attack was inevitable. How could he have been so stupid!

“Well, well, well,” rasped one of the Death Eaters nearest Ron. With a jolt of hatred, Harry recognised the voice as belonging to Fenrir Greyback. The Death Eater’s robes looked uncomfortably tight and were stretched so he looked hunched and bulky. “Harry Potter wandless. Harry Potter defenceless. Isn’t this lucky now Amycus.” He grinned, revealing sharp, yellowing, blood stained teeth. Harry could smell the stench of blood on the air as the man spoke to the lumpy Death Eater next to him.

The other Death Eaters formed a circle around them at these words, leaving no gaps. The circle was faultlessly tight. Harry gritted his teeth and tried to catch Ron’s eye, but it seemed he was on his own; Ron had gone into a sort of stupor.

“Long time, no see,” said Harry coolly, turning to face the group, gallantly. “Come to try and kidnap me?” He glanced around at the Death Eaters encircling him, searching for a weak link, but there was none. The Death Eaters had made no mistake in ensuring he didn’t escape this time. They were all sneering at him.

“No Potter,” drawled the unmistakable voice of Lucius Malfoy. His cold, gray eyes were glinting maniacally through the slits in his mask and his sleek blonde hair fanned out over his shoulders, framing his pointed, sneering face. “We have not come to kidnap you,” he continued. His smirk widened. “Oh no, our orders are to make sure you are killed. The dark lord no longer feels the need to kill you personally. He simply wants you dead!” Malfoy’s eyes were alight with malice.

Harry’s heart jolted unpleasantly. There was no way out, not now. All they could do was stand and fight.

Ron was still frozen and wide eyed; none of the Death Eaters seemed to feel the need to grab hold of him. Hermione, who had been putting up a tremendous fight, suddenly went silent. They were both looking at Harry helplessly. Harry felt a twinge of guilt, they’re here because of me - I got them into this mess! He thought franticly, this is all my fault.

“Dear, dear, Potter. No one to save you now. No Dumbledore, no anyone. I always knew you were going to meet the same sticky end as your parents? Too weak to put up a fight against the mighty wrath of Lord Voldemort, the filthy blood traitors,” sneered Malfoy. Rage leapt up inside Harry, clawing at his insides.

“SHUT UP!” he roared, lunging for Malfoy, wanting to hurt him as much as possible. But with a lazy flick of his wand, Malfoy had Harry bound tightly by invisible ropes. Harry toppled over hopelessly, the ropes cutting into his skin.

“Well Potter, with manners like that…maybe I ought to teach you a lesson before you are, ah, disposed of.” Harry struggled relentlessly within his ropes, but they were too strong. Malfoy was above him, looking unpleasantly gleeful. Harry tried to kick out, but he had no real hope now. Hermione was looking terrified; she was still trying to break free from her captor’s grip. Ron was now being flanked by two more broadly built Death Eaters and was white with horror.

Malfoy raised his wand in front of his sneering face and Harry closed his eyes, lying there, helpless and immobile. He was clenching his fists so tightly that his finger nails were digging into his palms.

“Cruci -” cried Malfoy, but at that moment there was a loud yell of ‘Expeliarmus’ and his eyes widened as he was thrown backwards with such force that he crashed into the wall of Death Eaters, breaking their ranks. Stunned, Harry twisted his neck to stare at Ron and Hermione, but neither of them had their wands raised; evidently neither one of them had cast the spell.

He looked up. There, stood across the street, her wand raised high and her jaw set, her cinnamon eyes blazing, was Ginny Weasley.

What, Where, When, Why…How?

Harry’s mouth fell open. Several of the Death Eaters who remained standing, were looking thoroughly confused. Ginny screwed up her face and yelled Reducto. Several more of the Death Eaters were bowled over, including the one that had been wrestling Hermione. Ron was gawping at Ginny, his hair was slightly tousled and he wore a look of complete bewilderment. Hermione was breathing heavily, her hair was matted and tangled and her lip bleeding. Harry’s breath caught in his chest as he watched, Awestruck. None of the Death Eaters were making an attempt to curse the three Teenagers, they were to bemused and shocked to make a move.

Harry lay there, silent and puzzled, watching Ginny. He could not believe what he was seeing. Was this some bizarre hallucination? He had to be dreaming. But the ground underneath him was so rough and uncomfortable and the cuts and bruises that were now searing painfully, ruled out that possibility almost immediately. Then how did Ginny get here? How had she known that they were in trouble? How had she managed to take out at least three Death Eaters with one simple spell? There were so many questions that Harry was burning to ask. Ginny was clutching her wand tightly and her hair was blowing in the light wind. Her cinnamon eyes were blazing dangerously and her expression was hard and rigid. She was completely unharmed and unmarked as she stood there, a threatening silhouette against the dark sky. Harry wriggled half heartedly in his bindings in a feeble attempt to break free, but he knew that there was really no point, they were too tight

After standing gormless for several seconds, Hermione pulled out her wand, mystified, and attempted to stun the Death Eater that had had her in a headlock. But before she had the chance, the man named Amycus Carrows lunged for her; there was a maniacal glint in his eye as he bared his yellowing teeth. He grabbed a fistful of Hermione’s cloak and withdrew his wand roughly. There was a tense moment when everyone, even time itself, seemed to freeze.

“No you don’t!” roared Ron, His eyes widening as the Death Eater jabbed Hermione in the side. Hermione squealed. She looked frightened, but disgusted and tried to pull away. Ron recovered from his stupor and caught the Death Eater by the scruff of the neck. The Death Eater started to kick and jab. His wand was emitting red sparks. Ron held him at arms length, looking sickened. A blaze of Red, sent by Ginny, grazed Ron’s ear, and then hit Carrows in the chest, stunning him. Ron dropped the lifeless Death Eater, who crumpled on the ground.

“POTTER,” roared Lucious Malfoy, untangling himself from several unconscious Death Eaters. He seemed the only one left standing as Ginny had knocked out most of the others. He towered above Harry, who was still lying on the ground, bound by the invisible ropes. Malfoy jabbed his wand angrily and Harry felt as if a white hot poker was being applied to his forehead. Malfoy sneered unpleasantly down at Harry, raising his wand, but before he could attack, he had keeled over as a jinx cast by Ron, hit him squarely in the back. It was now three against one; Ron, Ginny and Hermione all closed in, wands raised. There was a chorus of stupefy and Malfoy received three blasts to the chest. He was thrown into the air and hit a nearby wall, falling with a thud onto the cold hard pavement; a trickle of blood was oozing from beneath his white-blonde hair.

Harry felt the ropes unbind themselves and gingerly rubbed the places where they had cut into his skin. He sat up and stars erupted in front of his eyes. His head was throbbing painfully and he felt somewhat dazed as he rubbed his clouded eyes. Harry wiped his sweating brow and attempted to stem the flow of the nose bleed that he was now sporting.

He scrambled to his feet, brushing himself off and gazing around. All of the Death Eaters were out cold, lying sprawled across the gravel, there faces blank and their heads were lolling grotesquely. The night was innocently dark and silent. The stars were twinkling openly and the wind had now settled. Hermione was sobbing into Ron’s shoulder; she was shaking uncontrollably and Ron was stroking her hair and whispering soothingly in her ear, though he was as white as chalk and was shivering himself.

Harry’s eyes locked with Ginny’s. She stared at him unblinkingly and Harry found he could not look away. It was as though an invisible hand was pulling him ever further into her warm steady gaze. His former decision was forgotten, at that moment he didn’t care how dangerous their being together was, he just wanted to hold her, to feel her presence. He reached out and enveloped her in his arms. She let out a muffled sob and buried her head into his chest. Harry could feel her heart thumping and her chest heaving as he hugged her close to him.

Ginny shuddered, silent tears were rolling down her cheeks, she was shaking. Her ashen face glowed palely, as she leaned weakly against him. Her eyes held an empty, lost look. It was as though she were a small, lost child. She moaned and more silent tears shook her rigid frame.

“Shhh,” Harry whispered consolingly. She relaxed slightly under his soothing influence but continued to sob into his shoulder. “Hey, it’s all right, don’t worry, it’s all over, your safe now.”

Ginny spluttered and gave and audible sniff. Her usually flushed cheeks were now pallid and tear stained. The flaming red hair no longer attained its usual spring but hung limply by her hunched shoulders. Harry’s heart gave a painful lurch; she looked so feeble and helpless.

“Come on,” he whispered firmly, pulling away from the weeping Ginny and steering her in the direction of Ron and Hermione who were still wrapped tightly in each others arms. “We need to get back to The Burrow and warn everyone, the Ministry needs to be informed. If were lucky these lot,” he jabbed his thumb toward the crumpled band of Death Eaters, “will be caught and chucked in Azkaban, where they belong.”

Ron and Hermione broke apart as they approached. Hermione’s eyes were now red rimmed and puffy. Ron looked in a state of collapse, his was blank faced and didn’t seem to be registering anything more than the fact that he was standing in the cold.

“Let’s get out of here,” Harry repeated, casting the Death Eaters a wary look. “Come on, we need to get back, everyone’ll be worried, Ginny’s in a bit of a state and I’m sure you two are in need of a drink.”

Ron stared at him blankly, and then gave an involuntary shudder, coming back to his senses.

“Ginny,” he frowned “What in Merlin’s name are you doing here?”

Ginny hiccoughed, swaying slightly. Harry shot Ron a warning look. Ginny was in no state to be interrogated. She looked gratefully at Harry as Ron silenced himself. Harry squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“Ginny, were going to Apparate, so, you can side-along with me.” Harry stuck out his right arm pointedly and Ginny grasped it tightly. She looked ghostly in the orange glow of the street lamps and was still trembling.

Harry held up his free hand and raised three fingers.

“On one?” Ron nodded shakily and Hermione gave a jerk of her bushy head. “Three,” Harry closed his eyes. He put down the first finger, concentrating hard on The Burrow. “Two,” his second finger sank. Beside him, Ron’s face was screwed up in pained concentration; Hermione looked utterly relaxed as if this was something she did everyday, which it probably was. Ginny was looking up at him, tense and wary, her hands were clammy and clamped stiffly around Harry’s forearm. Harry smiled down at her reassuringly. “One,” he hollered, lowering his index finger with a jerk and twisting stiffly on the spot.

He had a last fleeting glimpse of the neat suburban lawns before he was swept forward into that unpleasant sensation of being compressed.

..........................................................................................

Harry rapped hard on the old wooden door of The Burrow; Ginny’s hand was still clutched in his. She was shivering slightly in the light wind and for the first time, Harry noticed that she was wearing her pyjamas. She had obviously not had time to get dressed before she had set off for Privet Drive, how did she get there in the first place? Harry wondered, but he did not pursue Ginny, he thought it cruel to attack her about it when she was in this state.

There were hurried footsteps behind the door, a thud and then the door was flung open. Mrs Weasley was stood in the doorway, her night gown wrapped around her. Her eyes were wide and fearful and she was trembling slightly, she held the door open with a fumbling hand. Harry observed that her usually full and rosy face was pale, deep lines were now etched permanently into her features. Her bright eyes now brimmed with fear and anxiety.

“Arthur!” She gasped, clutching her chest, “Arthur she’s here, Ginny’s alright, and she’s with -” There was a scuffling from within the room behind her, Mr Weasley’s thin balding figure came skidding to a halt at her shoulder. He too, looked in a state of desperate worry. His thin, white face was tauten and stiff,

“Ginny,” he sighed, exhaling deeply. “We thought you were… we didn’t know what or where you… I…oh, come on in, you look terrible, let’s get you inside and then you can explain what’s been going on.”

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Harry sank down onto Ron’s shabby Chuddley Cannons bed spread. Ron’s room was exactly like it always had been; the orange painted walls, peeling slightly were plastered with large posters of Ron’s favourite Quidditch team; the Chuddley Cannons. Each poster was alight with movement; the players zooming around within were all wearing the same bright orange robes. There was a large empty tank which had previously held a large amount of frogspawn, but now sat empty and desolate on an old cabinet. Pigwidgion was zooming around in his minute cage in the corner; the tiny overexcited owl was twittering madly from within the bars.

Harry put his head in his hands and leant against the headboard wearily. He had just managed to escape from the clutches of Mrs Weasley. He had just had to explain to her, with the help of Ron Ginny and Hermione, the details of the night’s events, from how they had left the Dursley’s house at 10:30, to how they had managed to knock out every single Death Eater that had cornered them. At this point, Mr Weasley had jumped up and rushed off to alert other members of the Order to accompany him to Privet drive where there was likely to be a band of unconscious Death Eaters lying on the cobbles.

From what they were told, Mrs Weasley had almost immediately noticed that Ginny was absent from the household, she had been waiting at the table when they had arrived. They had spent the greater part of that hour explaining to a horrified Mrs Weasley what had happened, then had had to endure her lecture on carelessness, stupidity and the dangerousness of the situation that they had narrowly escaped from.

Ginny had kept unusually quiet through all of this. Even when Mrs Weasley had turned on her and started ranting about how worried she had been, noticing that Ginny’s hand was positioned at ‘Mortal Peril’ and constantly questioning how and why Ginny had come to be there in the first place, Ginny kept her lips determinedly shut. No matter how harsh Mrs Weasley got, she simply didn’t seem to want to converse. Though Harry too, was interested in uncovering Ginny’s mysterious appearance at Privet drive, he did not aid Mrs Weasley’s in her interrogation of Ginny. He thought it quite unkind, seeing the state that she was in.

In the end Mrs Weasley gave it up as a bad job, insisting that they were in shock, what they really needed was a good, long sleep and that they would discuss the matter further, in the morning.

Ron’s bedroom door creaked open and Hermione edged in clutching a mug of hot Cocoa. Ron and Ginny shuffled in behind her, both wearing equally exhausted looks and cradling large mugs; Ginny’s was steaming slightly and contained an odd, luminous blue liquid. Ginny placed the fluid on the cabinet and plopped down next to Harry hugging her knees to her chest. Ron carefully closed the door and sank onto the end of his bed, looking eagerly at Ginny.

“Well?” he demanded, gazing at her intently. “Go on, how come you were there at Privet Drive, eh?” Ginny scowled at his persistent manner, then rather reluctantly opened her mouth,

“Look, I don’t know!” she grumbled, “One minute I was here and the next I was just -” Hermione’s eyes narrowed slightly as she surveyed Ginny, it was as though she was x-raying her.

“Ginny,” she whispered sternly, “you and I both know that there’s more to this than you’re letting on, we need to know, then we can attempt to make some sense of this.”

Ginny faltered slightly under Hermione’s penetrating stare, but shook her head feverishly,

“No, it’s just, I can’t… I don’t know, I, oh, okay, okay I’ll tell!” She leaned heavily against the head board, sighing deeply. Harry gazed at her intently, quite apart from desperately wanting to know why she had been with them back at Privet Drive, he was seriously considering whether his decision about there break up at Dumbledore’s funeral, had been the correct one. No he told himself firmly, it was definitely the right thing to do. He did not take his eyes off her, though he edged away slightly noticing how very close they were; this caused Ginny to frown deeply. Even now, as he sat there telling himself persistently that he was definitely going the right way about this, a large part of him was squirming uncomfortably.

“Well,” Ginny started, breaking away from his gaze, looking hurt and bewildered. “I was in my room, when it happened. Obviously in bed -” she gestured to her pyjamas, “and I don’t know how but, well, I suddenly sat up and just knew that you three were in some sort of trouble -”

“Was it a dream?” Hermione interrupted, “did you see us and all the Death Eaters?”

“Well, no I -”

“Or was it a vision or -”

“No! Give me chance to answer Hermione!” Ginny grumbled, “Anyway, like I was saying, I don’t think it was a dream. I wasn’t asleep; I didn’t see any of you lot either, and that rules out the possibility of a vision too; I would have seen you and I didn’t,” she shot Hermione, who showed every intention of interrupting, a warning look. “I don’t know what it was really, gut feeling I suppose. So I just came downstairs and I don’t know why, my feet just, sort of carried me and I looked at the clock and Ron’s hand was pointing to ‘Mortal Peril’. That’s when I knew I had to come, and that’s when I went out side and, well, I think I Apparated,” She shrugged unconcernedly, but Hermione’s mouth was hanging open.

“Ginny, do you realise how dangerous that could have been? You could have majorly splinched yourself or something! And quite apart from that, you don’t even know how too Apparate!” Ginny shrugged again,

“Look Hermione, there’s no point in having a go at me; I’m as much in the dark about this one as you are. Anyway that’s not really what’s bothering me; it’s how I knew you were in trouble in the first place.” She sank further onto the mattress, twirling a stray hair around her finger.

“Yes, that is odd,” Hermione pondered, yawning slightly. “You know, I think I’m going to bed, maybe things will be clearer after a good, long rest, or even better, it will all have been a dream.” She stood up to leave rather suddenly, gesturing Ginny to follow her as they were supposed to be sleeping in Ginny’s room. Harry had a shrewd idea that there was something they were not telling.

Ginny, who looked worn out and weakened from the nights events, nodded wearily and leant over to give Harry a quick kiss on the cheek, Harry realised what was happening slightly too late and he pulled away only just quick enough, so that Ginny merely bumped him on the cheek; she stopped dead. “We can’t,” he mouthed, awkwardly avoiding her eyes, which were full of hurt and bewilderment and were slowly welling up with tears. She retreated and hiccoughed hysterically. Luckily, neither Ron nor Hermione seemed to notice this. Ginny hoisted herself off of the bed and brushed past Harry, rather harder than necessary, causing him to collide painfully with the headboard. Hermione bade them good night; Ginny scooped up her potion, shot Harry a cold look and followed her out of the room.

Harry sank dolefully into the lumpy mattress, staring at Ginny’s retreating back. He desperately wanted to be told what to do, what to think. In fact, he would rather not think or feel at all. The situation was spiralling out of control and he was so desperately unsure now, that the deadness of his whole attitude was like a great black, rain cloud, preventing him from seeing any kind of light at the end of the tunnel.

Ron was staring at the door, just as confused as Harry about Hermione’s abrupt and rather pointed departure. After several silent minutes he unglued his eyes from the open door with a frustrated whisper of ‘Girls’ and moving to the top end of his bed. He pulled the covers up to his chin and motioned Harry to move.

He slid silently onto his own camp bed and buried himself within the tangle of covers, thinking, love must be worth it if you have to go through all this heart ache beforehand.

Discussions, oodles of Discussions!

Harry awoke next morning with comprehension dawning in the pit of his stomach. He ran his fingers agitatedly through his hair, keeping his eyes firmly closed, as though if he kept them shut long enough, he wouldn’t have to wake up to the problems ahead of him. His head throbbed dully as he recalled the events of last night, he now fully understood what Dumbledore had meant by a mind being to full of thoughts.

He groped around for his glasses and pushed them on. The room came clearly into focus. Morning sun was streaming in through the windows. Ron’s bed was empty; the covers were pushed back messily. Harry yawned widely and pushed the covers of his own camp bed back. He ran his fingers through his hair as he always did when frustrated or bothered by something. He noticed that his trunk had been brought up sometime during his sleep. Harry rose and quickly crossed the room, opening his trunk with a click. He selected one of Dudley’s over large jumpers, pulled it carelessly over his head and left the room.

The house had an oddly quiet sense about it which was quite unlike its usual buzzing atmosphere; even the attic ghoul seemed to have abandoned its routine clanking. With an increasing sense of foreboding, Harry tiptoed down the narrow stair case pushing his glasses further up the bridge of his nose. As he reached the door to the kitchen he put his ear to it cautiously. The room also seemed silent, save the scraping of a few chairs. Harry wasn’t sure why there was such an absence of noise but he wasn’t going to wait to find out. He pushed open the door and stepped into the chilly kitchen.

The whole or what seemed so, of the household was gathered around the small, spindly table. The stony silence filling the room was so thick it could have been sliced with a knife. Each person was pale faced and were wearing equal looks of sullenness.

They all looked round as he entered. Mrs Weasley managed a weak smile and conjured a mismatched chair, gesturing him to sit down.

“Come and sit down dear, I daresay you’ll need to,” she croaked throatily. Harry hesitantly crossed the room and slowly lowered himself into the wooden chair. Everyone was staring at him intently as he sat numbly waiting. After a long, painful silence he decided that he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Look, is any one going to tell me what’s wrong or am I expected to figure this out by myself?” he looked around the room awaiting an answer. Mrs Weasley sighed and wrung her hands nervously.

“No one blames you Harry dear but well, erm…” Harry was starting to get impatient, he couldn’t stand the suspense.

“Some of the order members were injured last night,” Hermione cut in. Harry chest constricted, the guilt already resting on his shoulders seemed to gain wait.

“Who?” he whispered, “How?” The room seemed to shift uneasily.

“Well,” said Ron awkwardly, “last night when dad and some other members of the Order went to Privet Drive they got ambushed by the Death Eaters we thought were out cold, well they were, but they were conscious by the time dad and the others got there, and pretty livid. Kingsley Shacklebolt was stunned pretty badly, but he’s alright now, he’s conscious and they say he’ll be fine. Moody was sort of hurt but it was nothing serious, dad got hit by a pretty vicious expelliarmous charm but he’s fine now. And -”
Harry was relieved that not much serious damage had been inflicted, though the room still seemed curiously still and uncomfortable. Harry twisted his neck to stare at Ron who quickly looked at his feet.

“What!” Harry burst out, frustrated. This time it was another voice that spoke, quiet and mournful.

“Tonks, Harry, its Tonks.” Harry swivelled in his chair to face none other than Remus Lupin shrinking into a corner of the room. He was stood dumfounded as though he was waiting for something to sink in. “We don’t yet know what’s wrong with her. She’s at St Mungos being examined. One of the Death Eaters hit her with something, but we don’t know what, she’s still unconscious at the moment.” He spoke somewhat hoarsely.

Harry sat numbly on his chair a hollow sensation in his chest. The guilt weighing on him so much he felt as though his back would snap. He could hear voices echoing around him but sat transfixed in his seat. He was overwhelmed once again by that feeling of contamination, as though he had a filthy disease that was slowly spreading to the others, as though his presence was putting them at risk. He quickly scrambled from his seat, all eyes were on him.

“I, I, erm, I’m going upstairs to, erm well, yeah.” he rushed towards the door, feeling everyone’s gazes burning into his back. He wrenched open the door and headed for the narrow staircase. His feet felt heavy and his head was throbbing dully. He stared at the floor, watching the progress of his feet and after what seemed like an age he reached Ron’s room and threw open the door, stepped over the threshold and dragged his feet across the room. The floor boards creaked loudly beneath his feet but he didn’t notice. He reached the other side, fell face first into the peeling orange wallpaper and began to bang his head frustratedly against the wall.

This was all his fault. He was to blame, if only he didn’t exist, the Death Eaters wouldn’t have come, they wouldn’t have attacked Tonks, she wouldn’t be in St Mungos, if only… But he did exist and this was something that he was going to have to live with. He turned around weakly and began to slide down the wall. He sank onto the hard wooden floor and hugged his knees to his chest He was drowning in his own thoughts when he heard the door creak open. He slowly raised his head, could no one leave him be, couldn’t they see he wanted to be left alone.

Hermione stood framed in the doorway, her arms folded and a challenging look firmly in place. She tapped her foot impatiently then strode across the room towards him.

“Harry, this was not your fault!” she said sternly. Harry avoided her hard gaze and opted instead for examining the floor. “Harry,” she sighed and kneeled down in front of him. “Whatever happens, you’ve got to realise that we’re putting ourselves at risk, not you! We chose to be part of this and it’s no more your fault than anyone’s. We knew the risks concerned when we decided to get involved. So don’t go blaming yourself.

Harry looked up at her, “Hermione, just leave me alone, you don’t know how it feels to be responsible for this kind of stuff, you don’t know how much it tears you apart when someone gets hurt or worse, killed, because of you.” he ran his fingers uneasily through his hair.

Hermione seemed to snap, she grasped his shoulders tightly and began to shake him, “Harry,” she cried exasperatedly, “It was are choice, we knew what we were getting into and being involved with you doesn’t make us in any more danger, for the last time Harry, It’s not your fault!” Harry felt the immense amount of guilt lessen slightly, he stared at her and deflated, it made it so much better to be reassured and he believed less that it was his fault as he thought about Hermione’s words.

“It’s just that, it makes me feel so isolated when people get hurt, like the ones I care about most are getting picked off one by one, just to spite me.” His chest felt constricted and his throat was raw,

“I know Harry, but you’ve got to know that no one blames you, ok?” Harry smiled at her gratefully and began to get to his feet But Hermione stood up too and blocked his path, she looked suddenly stern again. Placing her hands on her hips she caused Harry to cower slightly against the wall.

“I want to talk to you about Ginny,” she said hard-heartedly. Harry sighed; he thought this might be coming. “What do you think you are playing at, you’re breaking her heart Harry, she doesn’t know whether she’s coming or going with you. And don’t give me the ‘By being with her I’m putting he in danger’ line, because we’ve just clarified that that’s a load of rubbish. She doesn’t think you care about her, well, she doesn’t know what to think.”

Harry stood stock still, soaking in the words. She doesn’t think you care about her; of course he cared about her, he loved her, that was the whole point of him breaking up with her, that was the point of this whole thing. It wasn’t because he didn’t care; it was because he did, too much. He desperately needed her to understand this but he knew that that meant getting involved, which was the last thing he wanted. He was infuriated at himself; he didn’t know which way to turn. He dimly noted that Hermione was still speaking to him.

“Harry, she loves you and I’m pretty sure that you feel that same way, I can see this is tearing you up inside and -”

“This is more complicated than it seems Hermione,” Harry cut in, knowing perfectly well that it wasn’t, but he wasn’t going to put Ginny in danger like that, he wasn’t. Hermione opened he mouth to retort but Harry got there first, “Hermione, stop hounding me, nothing you say is going to change my mind, I care about her too much,” he said firmly, knowing in his heart that her words had already caused him to have unwanted second thoughts.

Hermione mouthed wordlessly and then seemed to give in, “Fine Harry, but I’m definitely not happy about this, you should see the pain that your causing Ginny,” she turned to leave, “Oh and you should come downstairs to get some breakfast soon, we’re going to see Tonks later.” with that she strode from the room swinging the door shut behind her.


Harry closed Ron’s bedroom door silently and sank down onto his camp bed to face Ron, Hermione and Ginny. It had been a long day and he was quite glad that he was able to get away from all the hectic wedding preparations and what with going to visit Tonks that morning he was quite exhausted.

He looked intently at Ron and Hermione but continued to avoid Ginny’s gaze. It was a miracle that Ron didn’t seem to notice Harry and Ginny’s strange behaviour towards each other, for Harry wasn’t even sure he knew that they had split up.

“I just wanted to look a bit further into what happened that night on Privet Drive,” Hermione Said in business like tones as she settled herself on the edge of Ron’s bed. “I just wanted to go through all the details to see if we discover something new that‘ll help us solve what happened. Ginny,” she turned to face Ginny apologetically, “we’ll need to go through every thing that happed before you got to Privet Drive, ok?” Ginny nodded weakly, and then sank to the floor. She folded her hands uneasily in her lap, and then reluctantly began to speak.

“Well, I suppose I should start with how I went up to bed,” she shifted into a more comfortable position. “Well, I’d just had tea and I was quite tired so I decided I would go to bed, and I did. Nothing strange happened, I just read for a bit, I don’t know how long.”

“Right,” said Hermione curiously, “You didn’t feel ill or anything, or strange?”
She surveyed Ginny intently.

“No,” Ginny replied frowning, “It was just like any other night really. Except that just as I settled down, I got this feeling, sudden as anything, I don’t know what it was, more of an urge, something that told me there was something wrong. So I went downstairs and the first thing that I saw was the clock. Usually, nowadays, everyone’s hands are pointing to Mortal Peril but this time it was just Ron’s so I started to panic, I didn’t know what to do and that’s when I went outside and, well, I must have -”

“Apparated, that’s obvious,” Hermione finished, “How else could you have travelled that far in the space of about two seconds? It’s just that, Oh, nothing seems to make sense!” she cried.

“You know Hermione, I don’t think this is ever going to make sense,” Ron said dully.

“Humph,” grumbled Hermione, finally succumbing to the fact that, for once, she was not going to be able to work this one out. “Well there is something else we need to talk about,” she looked pointedly at Harry and Ron. Harry thought he knew what this one was going to be about, and so, it seemed did Ron.

“Go away Ginny,” Ron said bluntly, stretching his legs out on the bed. Hermione shot him a reproachful look.

“Charming,” said Ginny indignantly, she folded her arms challengingly and scowled. Harry was forced, once again, to look at her and was surprised that even her scowl did not make her any less beautiful. He quickly looked away and shook himself.

“No, Ginny, stay.” said Hermione firmly, Ginny smiled happily and settled back against the wall. Ron eyebrows rose so far that they were in danger of disappearing into his hair line. Harry to, was confused, he had thought that they were going to discuss the horcruxes, but if that was so then why would Hermione be asking Ginny to stay.

“Yes, Ron, Ginny can stay, I think that she could help us out.” Ron mouthed wordlessly for a while, and then defeatedly sank back into the pillows. “Good,” said Hermione rubbing her hands together. “Well I just thought we’d go over what we know already and plan out where were going first, ok.” she looked around the group who nodded in agreement (Ginny somewhat confused), knowing that they didn’t really have much choice anyway. “Well, Ginny, basically what we already know is that Voldemort is using Horcruxes to aid his immortality.” Ginny brow creased and her lips formed the words ‘Horcruxes’. Harry decided that he might as well explain this one,

“A Horcrux is an object that has a part of someone’s soul inside it. Wizards do it to when they don’t want to die. When you kill someone, you split your soul, and if you want a Horcrux you can hide one piece of it in an object. That means that if someone tries to kill you, then you won’t die properly because you will still have an unharmed piece of your soul somewhere else,” he said dully, Ginny looked horror-stricken. “When I had my private lessons with Dumbledore we found out that Voldermort had seven Horcuxes.”

“You mean Voldemort split his soul seven times!” Ginny gasped. Harry nodded dismally, careful to avoid her eyes. “But, but, that’s inhumane!”

“Yup,” Ron agreed, “We know what most of them are though. A locket of Slytherins, a cup that belonged to Hufflepuff, Voldemort’s snake, and something of Gryffindor’s or Ravenclaw’s.” the room went very quiet as every occupant was absorbed in their own thoughts, Ginny gave an involuntary shudder.

“But, that only makes four, what happened to the others?” she questioned.

“Well,” Hermione answered, “One of them was Riddle’s diary,” Ginny went ghostly pale and sank weakly against the wall. She opened and closed her mouth hopelessly, looking remotely like a gold fish. After several long moments she finally managed to squeak out,

“You mean that when I had that diary, I was carrying a piece of Voldemort’s soul around with me?” She looked horror-struck and as though she was about to faint.

“Yes,” Hermione whispered, placing a hand tenderly on Ginny’s shoulder. “But that doesn’t matter now because Harry destroyed that one in the Chamber, ok?” Ginny’s lip trembled but she nodded distractedly, and continued to stare at the wall.

“And one of them was a ring that also belonged to Slytherin. But Dumbledore destroyed that one last year, and the last part of his soul is in his own body.” Hermione finished, Harry was quite sure that Ginny had taken in none of the last sentence but he didn’t chance a look at her.

The room once again lapsed into a dead silence. The sun was casting the room in a deep red shadow. People could be heard bustling about downstairs but Ron’s room was soundless; no one seemed to be able to find any words suitable for what they were thinking.

Ginny slowly got up off of the bed, her ginger head hung low and her shoulders hunched,

“I’m going to bed,” she mumbled, as she traipsed across the room. Harry felt a rush of sympathy for her; he was sure that if it had been him being told that he had once treasured a part of voldermort’s soul, he would not have taken it too lightly either. Hermione seemed to sense Ginny’s discomfort to as she watched her retreating back.

“I’ll be there in five minutes or so!” she called as the door swung shut. They heard Ginny descending the stairs to her room and another quiet click that meant she had reached it.

“You know Hermione,” Harry fired up at once, “You didn’t have to tell her all that! Couldn’t you see how much it upset her?”

“Look who’s talking!” Hermione retorted, crossing her arms defiantly. Harry scowled but sunk defeated, back into the pillows. He should have known she would manage, somehow, to bring the situation between him and Ginny up again. Ron was staring back and forth between the pair, clearly realising that he must be missing something, but before he could get a word in edgeways, Hermione had started to speak again, hushing him into a confused silence. “And anyway, I think she needed to know,”

“Why?” Ron piped up, “I wouldn’t have told her!”

“Because,” Hermione answered shrewdly as she got up to leave, “I think that we might need Ginny a lot more than we think.”


Harry woke next morning knowing that it must already be quite late. He could hear the bustling that was going on downstairs due to last minute wedding preparations; Bill and Fleur’s wedding would be the following day.

He dressed silently and was soon on his way out of the empty bedroom. He was glad that the buzz of The Burrow was back, he couldn’t stand the silence. There were family members already out on the garden preparing it for the wedding. Most of the women were in the kitchen preparing food and the rest were rushing about clearing up the last minute details.

Harry started to descend the rickety stairs when he thought he heard whispering. Stopping outside the room in which Ginny and Hermione were sleeping he pressed his ear to it. There was a soft whispering coming from within. Harry slowly pushed open the creaking door and peered into the room.

It appeared to be empty. A frown creased Harry’s brow, he was sure that there had been whispering coming from inside. He closed the door behind him and cautiously crossed the room towards the two beds, one of which was empty; the covers were folded neatly. The other occupied a falling and rising lump. Harry glanced down at the sleeping form of Ginny Weasley. Her back was turned to him and she was sleeping soundly. Her snores were soft and whispery. Harry stood watching her, mesmerised. He knew that he should probably go but a longing to watch her took hold of him. She stirred in her sleep, Harry thought for a moment that she had awoken but she merely rolled over in her sleep to face him. Glancing at the door he kneeled beside the bed.

It felt like someone was tearing at his insides. He so desperately wanted to be with Ginny, to love her and be loved in return, but at the same time guilt rested firmly on his shoulders, holding him back. He watched her untroubled sleep, savouring her beautiful features; how her hair fell messily in front of her eyes, how her nose was wrinkled ever so slightly as she slept. He raised his hand and gently swept the hair from her face and tenderly tucked it behind her ear. He stroked her face affectionately; he didn’t know how long he sat there, just watching, but it didn’t matter to him, he could sit there forever. He leaned over and gently kissed her forehead, inhaling the smell of her hair. He bent lower so their foreheads were touching,

“I love you,” he sighed, barely audible, to her as she slept.

He heard the creaking of the stairs from below. He scrambled to his feet and hastily brushed himself off. He skidded across the floor towards the door. The footsteps were getting louder; he was nearly at the door.

Ginny’s eyes flickered open, wide, as she watched Harry’s quickly retreating back, she raised her hand to her forehead, caressing the place where his lips had been just moments before.

Harry sat at the kitchen table, drumming his fingers anxiously on the chipped wood. He wasn’t sure what his nervousness was about actually. It was the morning of Bill and Fleur’s wedding and although there was an atmosphere of hectic rush about The Burrow, something told Harry that it had little to with the uneasy feeling churning his stomach.

Tap, tap, tap. He wondered what Ginny was doing now; no he didn’t, He mustn’t. Maybe she was getting ready. Stop it!

Tap, tap, tap. What would she be wearing? It didn’t matter to him though; she looked beautiful in almost everything. No! That wasn’t the reason it didn’t matter to him, he mustn’t let it be. No, the reason it didn’t matter to him was because he didn’t care, yes. Although she was beautiful.

Tap, tap, tap. No, oh why did he bother. It was as though there was a huge war sweeping his mind; the harder he tried to win, the worse It felt when he got knocked straight back again. The more he tried to conquer, the further he sank to the bottom. It was hopeless.

Tap, tap, tap. Maybe he should get up now. It might do him well if he tried to take his mind off things. What good was it sitting here and dwelling on thoughts that were just chasing him in a vicious circle?

His spindly chair dragged along the floor as he pushed back and straightened his numb knees. His fingers were resistant, and continued drumming on the wooden surface of the table. He yanked his arm away gave his hand a vigorous shake; his fingers still flexed threateningly.

Harry stood motionless with the intention of going somewhere, doing something; though he hadn’t the slightest idea what. But his stiff legs denied him movement. He stood there for sometime willing himself to move, but at the same time restraining his legs.

He had two options. He could stay here or leave. Both seemed simple enough, it was just he couldn’t make head nor tail of the complications behind them. If he stayed he might crack under the pressure, but if he left, he could bump into Ginny and do something he regretted. Although if he stayed he could avoid Ginny, but if he left he would not have to think so much. People always said listen to your heart as though it was the easiest thing in the world; one option was just logic, the other was his heart; giving him a nudge in the right direction. The only problem was, for the life of him he couldn’t figure out which was which.

He took the risk and began to stride out of the room. Thinking about it, that decision was not even remotely important and yet he’d treated it as priority. Think of all the other things he had and would have to decide on. Things didn’t just happen randomly, everything was destined to happen. Every conclusion he came to could alter the string of possibilities waiting to happen. It was like two doors, each with their own set of destinies. The risk was his, he could open one and eliminate the other door completely but as he stepped over the threshold the other possibilities were ready, waiting to pounce; good or bad.

He shook his buzzing head and continued through the door. Thoughts such as those were too great to understand. He rubbed his tired eyes and ran an anxious hand through his untidy hair. Sometimes he wished thoughts didn’t exist.

He tramped along the narrow hall with heavy feet. Sometimes he wished he wasn’t him. He let his heavy feet direct his path without paying the slightest bit of attention to anything himself. Bad idea.

“Arrrgghh!” he choked, inhaling a mouthful of velvety red hair.

Harry was thrust backward with such force he felt the wind being knocked from him. For a moment his helpless fingers seemed to grapple with thin air and his feet clumsily attempted to keep him upright. He fell crashing to the floor, vaguely registering the weight of another upon his chest. His head collided with the cold floorboards and ricocheted off sharply.

His vision was momentarily clouded, and every slight sound seemed three decibels louder somehow. Soon the fogginess retreated to the corners of his thought, and he began to feel a dull throb in the back of head.

“Oww,” Harry groaned in agony, rubbing the back of his sore head. He could feel the lump already. With his eyes still scrunched he felt something brush against his chest.

Harry’s wincing eyes snapped open as he caught the aroma of a familiar flowery scent. He found himself staring into a pair of beautiful deep brown eyes, illuminated with dancing light. Ginny’s long fiery hair hung in curtains around him. Their noses were barely millimetres apart.

Harry found himself locked in her gaze.

Funny thoughts kept flashing through his mind, though they didn’t seem to stay long enough for him to dwell on them.

They both stared; unaware of the position they were in. Harry felt her hot breath against his cheek. He felt his skin tingle. Their lips were merely centimetres apart, millimetres, almost touching. Her bottom lip grazed his; he felt a shiver run the length of his spine.

As quickly as it had started it stopped. Ginny withdrew with wide eyes. She suddenly seemed to realise how on top of Harry she was. She scrambled wildly to her feet, wearing a full length golden dress. Flicking her head back, she shook her hair out of the way, revealing glowing cheeks. Unsure what to do with herself, she thrust out her right hand to help him up.

Harry began to massage his head again, suddenly aware of how uncomfortable his fall had been. Ginny’s hand quivered in midair and he realised that he was probably supposed to take it. Hastily he grabbed hold and was hoisted to his feet.

“Sor-” he whispered hoarsely.

“Harry!” she squeaked, “You’ve got to stop doing this to me! To yourself.”

“What, saying sorry?” he joked lamely, trying to patch up the awkward situation.

“You know bloody well what!” Ginny sobbed, her feeble frame shaking with tears.

“Ginny…” Harry reached out a hand to touch her arm but she pulled away as if scalded.

“N-no!” she stuttered. Hastily pushing him aside, she stumbled off down the hall, reaching down and quickly grabbing the hem of her long dress.

“Ginny!” Harry called desperately. With no response, he fumbled along the hall after her. “Ginny.”

He could distantly hear her muffled sobbing as he dashed in her wake. The kitchen was desolately empty as he stumbled back over the threshold, clutching his chest.

“Damn it!” he cursed, catching his breath. This was all he needed. He ran his fingers through his hair as he hastened out of the door. The late morning breeze played across his face as squinted across the Burrow’s grounds. No flash of fiery red.

“GINNY!” he screamed, frustrated.

Why did life have to be so complicated? Nothing seemed to work out the way that he would have liked it to, to be quite honest it didn’t even come close.

He jogged through the overgrown wildness of the Burrow’s garden, trampling the long grass beneath his stumbling feet. He thrust his hand to his forehead, and squinted through the weak sunlight. Tall trees crowded him, willows, oaks, but no Ginny.

He dropped to his knees groaned in frustration. There was nothing he could do to sway the guilt resting upon his shoulders. He didn’t know what he was supposed to do. If he could have it his way, he would be more worried about the looming prospect of defeating Voldemort but no, he had to care, had to love. Wasn’t love supposed to be a good feeling? Yet it was tearing him apart.

A soft rustling sounded in the distance. Harry’s head snapped upwards and he caught a flicker of flaming red disappearing into the depths of a tall willow.

Harry scrambled to his feet, his hands flailing about hopelessly. He was barely upright as he began to sprint towards the drooping willow. He felt the dull throb of a stitch sear his side, but he had to keep running…

The thin, wispy branches hung before him like a gateway. He grappled at the them, dragging them apart and hastened through the gap.

“Ginny,” he breathed.

She was slumped against the rough bark, with her head hung low. Her vivid red locks fanned about her drooping shoulders. She sniffed as a solitary tear splashed from her nose.

“Go away, Harry,” she sobbed into her hands.

“Ginny I -”

“You wanted me to keep my distance so here I am!” she sniffed, picking up her head.

“No Ginny, you don’t understand -”

"You know what I don’t understand?” she stared directly into his face. “I don’t understand you! I thought I did. I can’t say that I don’t know where you’re coming from, because I do, but that doesn’t mean I agree. I suppose I always expected something like this to happen… I just never saw the reality of it. I’m not finding it easy.”

Tears cascaded down her cheeks like salty waterfalls as she spoke. She broke his gaze and stared into the leafy branches ahead, hugging her knees to her chest.

He walked over to where she was leant against the bark and plopped down beside her.

“It’s not just me then?” he spoke. He touched her elbow consolingly. Her skin felt soft and warm and his fingers tingled as they touched her. He placed his hand on the small of her back.

“Ginny, you mustn’t think I don’t care,” he whispered into her ear. Her eyes sharpened with fiery rage as she pulled away from his embrace.

“You’re doing a pretty damn good job of hiding it!” she snapped, wiping away the tears from her rosy cheeks.

“I’ve tried to explain -”

“Yeah? Well your explanations aren’t bloody good enough!” She shot him a defiant look that she couldn’t quite hold; she burst into tears once more.

“Oh, Ginny,” Harry breathed as her resilient head slumped to her chest. He reached out a forefinger and lightly picked up her chin to stare into her face. “I wish it could be different…”

“It c-can!” Ginny hiccoughed. “Nothing has changed; not really, we could still be together…”

“We can’t,” Harry countered desperately. “If he found out, then you could… I can’t risk it! If- If he finds out, look Ginny… Voldemort uses the people that are close to his enemies, he attacks the heart and if we’re together and he knows and he- he hurts you! How could I live with myself knowing that it was ultimately down to me? Ginny,” he whispered, “I love you too much to let you go.”

“You’ve said it one too many times already and you really should have learnt by now that it isn’t a good enough excuse for me!”

Harry opened his mouth in a desperate attempt to put her straight but she quietened him with a sharp glance.

“I don’t care! Don’t you think that I know how much danger I’ll be in? Don’t you think that if I was really bothered about it I would have backed out before now? I’ll say it once, I’ll say it twice, I’ll say it a hundred times if it helps! I don’t care!”

“But I do!” Harry retorted. “I couldn’t do it to you, to myse-!” but he was silenced as Ginny’s lips closed softly on his. How sweet they tasted. He had just started to return the kiss when the reality of what was happening hit him hard in the face. He pulled away hastily.

“Hey, that’s not fair,” he barked, noting how stupid he must have sounded.

Ginny giggled sheepishly. There was a mischievous glint in her eye. Harry was amazed at how quickly her mood had changed.

And now she was suddenly serious again.

“Harry, don’t you realise that I’m already in danger; with or without you in my life. And it’s not just me either, it’s everyone. Now you know who is back, no one is safer than the next person, you don’t even have a say!” she stared him straight out. “And besides,” she giggled, “I’m sure I’m not the only one who enjoyed that kiss!”

Before Harry had time to even open his mouth in defiance, Ginny soft lips had engaged him once more. This time, he didn’t pull away or resist in any way shape or form. He couldn’t, it was almost impossible.

Finally they broke apart, Ginny smiling subconsciously, Harry doing very much of the same.

“But Ginny,” he breathed, taking her hands in his, “After this, there’s no going back. Are you sure?”

“Course I’m sure, you idiot,” she whispered resting her forehead against his. “I’ve never been more sure in my whole life!”

“Good,” He smiled, folding his arms around her waste and pulling her close. “And Ginny?”

“Yes?”

“I’m pretty sure that if you don’t go and get ready for the wedding soon, your mother will kill you.”

“Talk about ruining the moment,” Ginny muttered.

************************************************************************

“What are you so smiley about?” Harry asked as he straightened the collar of his dress robes. Ron turned his head slightly in Harry’s direction, a small smile tweaking the corners of his mouth.

“I could ask the same of you!” he snorted, observing Harry’s gleeful features. Harry hastily tried to readjust his smiling face; it was almost impossible.

“Well?” Harry urged, nudging Ron in the ribs with his elbow.

Ron’s ears started to redden.

“It’s a nice day,” he mumbled, gesturing the weak sunlight. Harry shook his head at Ron’s feeble and obvious attempt to change the subject.

Well if he doesn’t want to talk…Harry resumed the straightening of his robes, still burning with anticipation to share Ron’s glee. He reached out blindly and began attacking his hair with a wet comb.

“Me and Hermione!” Ron burst, turning scarlet. Harry turned to Ron and raised his eyebrows.

“You and Hermione what?” he questioned innocently. He wanted to drag this out as much as possible. It wasn’t really a surprise to hear Ron and Hermione in the same sentence; he had had an inkling something would happen between them sooner or later.

Ron cleared his throat; he was carefully avoiding Harry’s eyes.

“Oh, it’s nothing important!” he tried to sound nonchalant, but Harry caught his long fingers flexing toward the door.

“You’re gonna have to tell me sooner or later…” Harry warned, pulling on the sleeve of his robes to reveal his old watch. “Time is tick- Damn!” Harry yelped, staring wide eyed at his left wrist.

“Wha-?” but Ron had barley started his question when Harry caught him by the scruff of his neck and began to drag him roughly from the room.

They had barley reached the top of the stairs when Ron successfully managed detach Harry’s clutching fingers from the collar of his robes. He rubbed his neck gingerly, shooting Harry a sharp look.

“Come on!” Harry hissed impatiently.

“Would it hurt you to at least tell me what’s going on!?” Ron retorted. Harry pulled a face but stuck his wrist watch in front of Ron’s long nose. Ron stared at it for a few moments before a look of utter horror passed his face.

“We’re late!” he squeaked, pushing Harry aside and stumbling down the rickety staircase.

“Oi!” Harry shouted bounding after him. They scrambled down the narrow corridor occasionally jutting into each other. Harry caught the banister with his hand and groaned.

“Mum’s going to kill us,” Ron gasped, galloping through the threshold of the backdoor and attempting to straighten his tie as he did so. He was in quite a mess actually; the buttons of his jacket had been buttoned up all wrong as he’d attempted to do them up whilst jogging through the house, his tie was more twisted than ever and his shoe laces were untied.

“Ron!” he bellowed, “Oi, Ron!” Ron turned to look at him with a contorted face; He stuck his fist into the air and tapped his wrist vigorously. As he let his arm drop loosely to his side however, the toes on his right foot stubbed the ground and caught one of his laces. His knees buckled and caved to the ground as his face a second later smacked the grassy floor.

Harry ran to join him and squatted to the floor.

“Your laces are undone mate,” he whispered. Ron groaned and picked his head up from the grass.

“How late?” he breathed.

“Not much,” Harry reasoned. He grasped Ron’s shoulder and helped him to his feet. “But I think your mum would be even less pleased if you turned up like this.”

Ron sighed and began to brush himself off. After fingering his tie for a while it looked almost as straight as it possible for Ron to get it. He tied his laces in a hurry but managed to get them reasonably well laced. Finally he returned his jacket buttons to their correct holes.

“Good,” Harry observed, “Now RUN!” he took off in the direction of the enclosure leaving Ron standing bemused behind him.

The Fairy bushes were drawing closer, Harry’s legs were getting stiffer, he had never noticed before just how big the Weasley’s garden actually was. He ran his fingers roughly through his hair as he fast approached the opening in the bushes.

He ducked under the leafy archway, noticing, relieved, that everyone was still standing; this would make his late entrance much less noticeable, good. He squinted along the rows searching for Hermione. It took him a while and he was getting worried the time for everyone to sit down was fast approaching.

He caught her in the corner of his eye on the third row from the front. She was singing along with the rest but her smile was mechanical and Harry noticed hers eyes darting around frequently, no doubt searching for him and Ron.

He bent his knees slightly and began to make his way towards her with his head bent low.

“About time,” Hermione hissed, as he joined in the chorus, standing on her left. Harry twisted his neck to look for Ron. He caught a flash a red and presumed Ron must be following and trying to keep low.

At that moment the song ended and everyone was summoned to sit. Harry sank slowly into the chair, as did everyone else.

Harry and Hermione shared a grimace as they both caught sight of Ron, frozen in a bent standing position, apparently trying to make his way discreetly to his seat. Everyone stared at his lone standing figure. Ron’s ears began to burn red as his wide eyes scanned the scene.

He hurriedly scrambled the rest of the journey to his seat, the spectacle of everyone and slumped low in his chair on Hermione’s right. Eyes were still momentarily on him but he twiddled his thumbs with a reddened face and slowly eyes returned to the front.

“Honestly,” Hermione breathed. Ron’s red tinted face shaded darker but he bent down and picked his programme out from under his chair and opened it up, though the fact it was upside down was slightly obvious.

Hermione folded her hands carefully in her lap and focused her attention on the man now standing at the front.

Ron seemed to have given up the reading of his programme by this time as it was screwed up in his right fist.

A squat, balding man stood at the front began to drone slowly, not unlike the way vicars at Muggle weddings generally did. Harry shifted in his seat to get more comfy. He had never been to an actual wedding before, let alone a wizard one, but from what he had seen of them on all the soaps and alike that Aunt Petunia watched, they were long and boring.

He was vaguely aware that the man had stopped speaking when a soft tune began to play. It was stranger than he had ever heard and quite unlike the traditional Muggle wedding March, though he thought he detected something of the tune familiar to Muggles disguised in the slow beat of the music.

Everyone seemed to have turned their attention to the far end of the enclosure so Harry slowly followed suit. He couldn’t yet see a thing as his vision was obscured by a bushy haired, willowy man sitting directly behind, but from the ‘ooh’s’ and ‘ahh’s’ he guessed that Fleur must be on her way up the aisle.

Finally she was close enough for Harry to catch a decent glimpse. Even now when his mind was so full of so much, her beauty had an almighty impact.

She was wearing a long white dress, unusually white; it seemed to glow so even the fluffiest, whitest clouds appeared a dreary grey compared to it. It hugged her around the middle and trailed far behind her on the carpet. A wide smile stretched her face, which like her dress, seemed to be glowing. Her silvery curls had been pulled into an elegant bun on top of her head. Her ancestral veela was definitely shining.

One thing that did strike Harry as strange was the fact that she seemed to be having no effect on Ron whatsoever. What was more, his left hand seemed to have disappeared between his and Hermione’s chair, and strangely enough, Hermione’s right hand seemed to have disappeared likewise.

Harry had no time to dwell on this however, as at that moment the bridesmaids, proceeding behind Fleur, entered his eyesight. He had remembered Gabrielle as a timid youngster, but she walked boldly down the aisle with her nose in the air, clutching the hem of Fleur’s trailing dress.

Then just behind on her right was Ginny. Harry breathed sharply, taking in her beauty. She walked gracefully with her head set high. Her golden dress, also of quite long length shimmered in the sun. Harry noticed how, although Gabrielle had a dress of exactly the same style, Gabrielle’s looked somehow more puffy, giving her the look of a silly little girl, Ginny however gave quite a different impression.

It may have been the way that she held herself, he didn’t know, but she looked elegant rather than puffy and prissy. Her hair was curled into a messy sort of side bun that definitely suited her.

Of all the other distractions that could have kept him he couldn’t take his eyes off her. She glanced sideways at Harry and grinned, Harry felt his lips widen into a broad smile. Her eyes dropped to where Hermione’s and Ron’s left and right hands should have been and then winked at Harry mischievously before carrying on up the aisle.

Finally Fleur joined Bill’s side. Harry thought he detected the utter joy on Bill’s features, though it was hard to tell, they were so distorted.

Bill turned many heads these days. Harry was saddened to see the many filthy looks he attracted. It must have been hard coping with such a dramatic change, but amazingly Bill held his head high.

The balding man began to speak.

The rest of the ceremony was much of a breeze to Harry, It was, as expected, long and boring and full of the squat man’s droning words, but Harry occupied himself by gazing at the back of Ginny’s beautiful head. It was a much better use of his time than listening to any of what was going on.

Although he did notice Gabrielle was acting very strangely. She seemed to be avoiding Ginny at all costs, apart from the loathsome glances she was giving her now and again. It was as though there was some sort of force field between them; every time Gabrielle strayed too close she would jerk away with a scowl as if scolded.

He must have been almost dozing off when he heard the words ‘you may kiss the bride’. It was like an alarm to his ears. The end! He thought exasperatedly and sprang up from his chair ready to leave.

“Harry, sit down!” Hermione hissed, dragging on his arm and pulling him to his seat. “They’ve still got to sign the parchment.”

Harry peered through the heads of those in front of him to catch sight of Bill and Fleur standing opposite each other with their fingers linked in midair. The squat man was now standing inbetween them.

“Atenus Ligoamoro,” he spoke, tapping there interlocked fingers with his wand. Harry’s brow creased into a frown and he leaned towards Hermione.

“What’s he doing?” he whispered to her, watching the front closely. A red beam shot from his wand, wrapping itself around the two hands clutched together. It spread to their elbows, before it glowed blindingly bright and vanished.

“He’s binding them,” Hermione muttered, “Like when you exchange rings, only more powerful. You only see the red beam if the two subjects really love each other, it only works if they do,” she paused, “So, you see if they don’t really love eachother, they can’t be bound, it’s clever really,” she enthused.

“So the vicar does this at every wedding?” Harry mumbled.

“Not a vicar, He’s called the ‘Binder’,” corrected Hermione, “And yes, if you chose to have a wedding like this… but you can choose to have the binding removed. Not many do that though, it makes the wedding sort of fake…”

Harry looked ahead once more, he definitely preferred wizard weddings. The Binder had now produced a slip of parchment, and laid it on a small table, carefully passing Bill a long quill.

Bill put the quill to the parchment and scribbled his signature upon it. He then passed the quill onto Fleur. She gracefully signed her name in curly lettering next to Bill’s.

As the quill was lifted the parchment burst into scarlet flames which parted into two doves. Harry watched in amazement as they spread their fiery wings and fluttered above the gatherings heads. Higher and higher they flew, twirling around eachother until they came together as one, before bursting into the clouds above.

“Beautiful,” Hermione breathed, gazing still at the place where the two fiery birds had disappeared.

There was a polite shuffling as the crowd began to get to there feet and exit the enclosure. Harry, beginning to return to himself, yawned and stretched his arms in front of him. He wanted to leave but he thought he should wait for Ginny, and she, at present, was chatting happily with her mum.

The afternoon sun was high in the sky and there were now throngs of people leaving the area behind. Harry tapped his foot against the leg of his chair, recalling ‘the binding’. It gave him a funny feeling just to watch, it was as though the two people would now be somehow connected, bound together. He appreciated even more so now, just how important and serious a feeling love was.

Ginny had finally finished talking and was making her way over, when suddenly she stopped dead in her tracks, staring at Ron and Hermione with an evil grin spreading her face (Harry thought he saw something of Fred and George in her), he saw something of that mischievous glint in her eye and knew at once she must be up to something. He watched as she gave Ron and Hermione a deliberate wide berth then veered into the gap between their row and the one behind.

Harry caught her eye and raised his eyebrows questioningly, but Ginny merely smirked and winked at him once more. She placed her hands secretly on the back of Ron’s chair and, without warning, pulled it from beneath him.

There was a shout from Ron as his knees buckled; he was momentarily stationed comically in midair before he stumbled to the floor. Ron and Hermione’s interlocked fingers were momentarily in full view, before Hermione was pulled down to the floor beside him, and with a yelp crumpled in a heap.

Hermione resurfaced and shot Ginny an icy look. She looked as if she was about to speak (or snap) when the fact her hand was still clutched in Ron’s came to her attention. All too late she attempted to yank it free, but the damage was already done.

“I think we need a little chat,” Ginny accused, with one hand on her hip and the other waggling a finger at the pair, a wide grin was in place. She squeezed inbetween two chairs to the row in front and plopped down on Harry’s knee, carefully folding her arms.

“And I don’t think we’re the only ones!” retorted Hermione, raising an eyebrow, and looking Harry and Ginny up and down.

************************************************************************

After a very long discussion, fuelled by both Ginny and Hermione’s curiosity and only halted by Harry and Ron’s grumbling mouths and stomachs, the four left the enclosure.

It was early evening by that time and the sun was glowing red overhead. It was very humid and the heat was quite stuffy and close to their faces as they headed for the long, thin table laden with the delicacies of Mrs Weasley.

“It’s boiling moaned, mopping his forehead with the palm of his hand. Harry would have made the same motion if it was not for the fact that one hand was piling food onto his plate and the other was occupied by Ginny.

“Well you don’t have to keep that jacket on and you can loosen your tie!” Hermione sighed, as if talking to a child that didn’t quite understand. Ron rolled his eyes but shrugged his jacket from his shoulders and threw it aside, then loosened his tie slightly. “There you go!” said Hermione happily.

“Look I’m not stupid if that’s what you think,” Ron groaned.

“No Ron, that’s not what I meant!” Hermione cried agitatedly.

“Or childish, because you don’t half treat me like one!”

“I do not!” Hermione retorted. “And you’re being childish, right now!”

“There you go again, always having a go!” snapped Ron.

“Come on,” Ginny muttered, pulling Harry along behind her to a merry little cluster of circular tables set aside from the make shift dance floor. Ron and Hermione’s bickering could still be heard from afar. She selected a table set slightly apart from the rest and plopped down on a seat, pulling Harry down onto the one next to her. “Those two a like an old married couple!” she sighed, then suddenly burst into a fit of giggles. Harry snorted, then began to wolf down the sandwiches piled on his plate.

“Idcha cho itch?” Harry spluttered through a mouthful of bread.

“What?” Ginny frowned. With an effort, Harry swallowed his mouthful.

“Did you do it?” He coughed.

“What?” Ginny questioned innocently.

“When Hermione said that she and Ron were stuck in the bathroom together and that’s when things ‘blossomed’, you set them up didn’t you.”

Ginny grinned. “I might have given a helping hand…”

“Ginny?” Harry poked her in the side playfully.

“Ok, ok!” she laughed. “I locked them in there together! I sent them both a note saying the other needed a word an- and!” By then she wasn’t fit to carry on as uncontrollable giggles took over and soon she was clutching her sides in hysterics.

“Ah well, they needed a shove in the right direction,” Harry laughed. “You’re quite the evil mastermind aren’t you!” he joked.

“Evil?” Ginny cried indignantly, wiping her streaming eyes. “Never!” she hiccoughed, beginning to calm down a little.

Harry smiled fondly and offered her the plate of food. She took a sandwich and began to nibble quietly.

“One other thing,” he quizzed. “What’s up with you and Gabrielle?”

“Oh,” Ginny said, grimacing. “I think she has a soft spot for you and she also knows you have a soft spot for me, so…”

“Oh,” Harry muttered, “Great! Another secret admirer, I had enough trouble trying to shake off Romilda Vane!”

Ginny smirked to herself. “What? Do you take solace in my suffering?” he cried in mock hurt.

“No, I’m just glad ,I’m no longer a secret admirer,” she grinned sheepishly.

It was beginning to get dark and a red glow was spidering over the hilltops, many people were dancing, though a few had retired to the tables once more. Harry slowly demolished the pile up on his plate with a little help from Ginny. A gentle breeze played across his face, and a thought struck him as he watched the many other couples dancing. Was he expected to ask Ginny to dance at some point? He knew he wasn’t the greatest dancer in the world, but it seemed a tad impolite to just to make her sit here all night.

“Hey, Ginny would you like to -” he had barely completed the question, when he was disturbed by a tingling tap on his shoulder. He spun around on his chair to face no other than Gabrielle.

She threw Ginny a filthy look before turning her gaze back to Harry.

“Would you like to dance wiz me?” She asked, but Harry detected the demand in her voice.

“Er, well, erm…” he stuttered.

“Good,” she said, grabbing his hand and pulling him to his feet. With one last scowl in Ginny’s direction, she stalked through the throng of people to the very middle of the dance floor, dragging Harry with her.

It was a slow song, Harry noticed. Whether this was deliberate or not he didn’t know but that would have been his guess. She placed his hands firmly on her waist and folded her arms around his neck with an effort as she wasn’t very tall, she only about ten of course. All the while she kept glancing over her shoulder towards Ginny triumphantly.

The song seemed to drag on forever as she thrust herself into him, to which he pulled away and on several occasions tried to lay her head on his shoulder which he jerked just out of her reach each time, not that she could reach that high anyway.

He caught Ginny’s eye and she grinned mischievously, giving him a mocking wave of her hand to which he smiled sarcastically and attempted to push Gabrielle a little further away.

Finally the song ended, Gabrielle was eager for another dance but he shook her of as lightly as he could and made his way quickly for Ginny.

“Now!” he said exasperatedly, as though he had been waiting all night for this (though that dance with Gabrielle had seemed to take all night!). “Ginny, would you like to dance with me?!”

“Yes, Mr Potter,” she laughed, getting to her feet. Harry grinned and took hold of her hand. They made their way quietly to a corner of the dance floor. Harry was very aware of Gabrielle’s eyes burning into his back.

They halted and Harry took her in his arms, she seemed to fit perfectly. She hugged him tight and rested her head on his chest, slipping her arms through his.

“Mmm,” Harry sighed contentedly into her soft hair as they swayed to the music.

“Why is life so against me?” Ginny sighed.

“Huh?” Harry puzzled, looking down upon her. She looked up to meet his eyes.

“I don’t know what I’ll do without you!” she mumbled sadly. “I know there’s no way you’ll let me come when you leave next week, but I just want to be with you…”

“Me too.”

“I wish things were different,” Her eyes suddenly flashed, a look Harry had never seen before aroused curiosity in him.

“What?”

“I wish I was bound to you,” She gazed at him intently and he knew there was a purposeful significance to her words, but what? Bound was a strange word to use. It triggered something in his mind. Wait, people who got married were had a binding ceremony! She couldn’t possibly want…

“Ginny, I can’t marry you! At least not now!”

“No, I wouldn’t ask you to do that,” she whispered, gazing at him, glassy eyed. “When I saw Bill and Fleur’s binding today, it stirred something in me. I didn’t know what it was at the time but I do now. It was what I wanted with you; I wanted to stay close even though I was far. And I know were young and it’s a big commitment but I love you and you love me. It’s not like marriage… well it is, but it isn’t really marriage. I only want to get bound, not the whole package… Harry, it’s what I want, if I can’t be actually with you, I want to be with you on some level…” she clutched him tighter as though she feared he might let go. “At least consider it?” she pleaded.

Harry stroked a fiery red strand from her face and wiped the tears delicately from her cheeks with his thumb. At first when he had heard her words, he felt like taking off, but with every word she had said, it sounded more doable and with the last word she uttered it almost felt destined.

“Yes,” he whispered, “I love you too. Let’s do it!”