Summer sun streamed through the tall windows of the hospital wing, warming the shoulders of the people standing off to the side of Ginny's bed. Voices echoed in Ginny’s subconscious. She felt their pull to come out, to wake up -- but not yet. She wasn’t ready.
“How are the others?” her mind registered Dumbledore asking quietly.
“Fine. Some spell damage to both. I’ve released them already,” Madam Pomfrey explained before leaning closer and speaking in hushed tones.
"How is she?" Mum?
"She'll be fine," Madam Pompfrey replied.
"The spell -- it isn't real. It's just the ramblings of a demented wizard, isn't it?" Molly asked tensely.
"I’m afraid not, Molly," Dumbledore answered. "The spell is real enough; however, Professor Borgin believes the version used here may have been incomplete. He is looking into it."
"Has she said anything? Has she woken up?" Dad?
"Molly, Arthur, she's had a rather big shock. Not to mention the fact that she suffered severe spell damage and lost a lot of blood -- more than most adult witches would be able to handle," Professor Dumbledore cautioned.
"When will she wake up?" Molly asked, her voice beginning to rise. She’s wringing her hands, Ginny sensed. It’ll be okay, Mum!
"I'm keeping her sedated to help her heal," Madam Pompfrey explained, "but, to be honest, I'm not sure I need to. She seems to have escaped into herself in order to heal emotionally as well as physically. I understand from Professor Borgin that this is not unexpected with this form of magic. "
"What should we do?" Arthur Weasley asked in a hushed tone.
"Poppy has consulted with St. Mungo’s and they agree that time is what Ginny needs. Seeing as how term is over and the students will be going home for the summer, you are more than welcome to stay here," Dumbledore offered. "However, if you feel a home environment would be better, we can see that she is moved comfortably back to the Burrow."
"Let's take her home, Arthur," Molly urged.
"Poppy," Mr. Weasley ventured, "you said Ginny is healing emotionally as well as physically. Is there anything we can do?"
Madame Pompfrey exchanged a meaningful look with Dumbledore before walking around to check her patient's temperature.
"Ginny needs comfort and love - from her family, from Harry,” Dumbledore said softly gazing at Molly and Arthur over his half moon glasses.
"He will come, won't he?" Molly asked, trying to keep her voice steady. "Harry can come to the Burrow?"
"Harry will come as soon as he’s able," Dumbledore assured her quietly. "We'll see to it."
Madame Pompfrey felt the creases on Ginny's forehead relax under her palm and watched Ginny's chest, noticing her labored breathing melt into deep, relaxed healing sleep.
++++
“I want to stay here with her.”
“You can’t right now, Harry,” Dumbledore sighed. “I’m sorry. She needs time to heal, and you need to return to your aunt and uncle’s.”
“No. I will stay here,” Harry repeated forcefully.
“Harry, you don’t have a choice,” Dumbledore firmly stated.
“I don’t seem to have a choice in anything, do I?” Harry ground out.
“Actually, Harry, you have lots of choices,” Professor Borgin said from behind. “But I think Ginny would want you to return to your aunt and uncle’s, as it gives you a better chance of being around for a long, long time.” Borgin approached Dumbledore’s desk and sat down in the chair next to Harry’s.
Frustrated, Harry lashed out at his Headmaster.
“WHERE WERE YOU? WHERE WERE YOU WHEN WE NEEDED YOU?” he shouted, glaring at Dumbledore.
“He was there,” Borgin said quietly.
Harry whipped around. Staring at Borgin, a flash of red flew across his mind. Glancing over Dumbledore’s shoulder, Harry felt himself deflate as he looked at Fawkes.
“How could you let this happen?” he asked the Phoenix. Fawkes cocked his head to the side as if to say, I didn’t. You’re okay.
“We didn’t let it happen, Harry,” Borgin explained quietly. “You knew as much as we did.”
“Nathan, did you confirm your theory?” Dumbledore interrupted, his eyes focused on Harry’s face.
“What theory?” Harry asked looking first at Dumbledore than at Borgin.
“My father’s passion was death. It was a subject he studied endlessly. The more he studied, the more he was able to prove or disprove. His immortality theories were some of the last he worked on. In fact, he was in the process of updating the now-missing manuscript at the time of his death.”
“Updating?” Harry asked. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, the missing manuscript was incomplete. As I told Malfoy, there was an addendum to the spell he attempted to perform. My uncle located it in the last of my father’s personal effects and sent it to me. I received it the day of the attack but did not open it until that evening. You see, Malfoy did perform the spell correctly. And yes, it is true, should Voldemort ever have yours and Ginny’s blood flowing through him, he would be…undefeatable,” Nathan admitted.
“However, once again, you have to remember the basic fundamental piece of ancient magic is the blood. And in Ginny’s case, while her blood was somewhat willingly given, at the time it was given, it was flowing with hatred. The combination of her hatred and Voldemort’s blood caused an acidic reaction forming a solution that would burn through anything, including human flesh.
“My father discovered this quirk and realized no witch and wizard would willingly give blood to an enemy without hatred, therefore, the spell would never properly work under these circumstances. He had written the addendum but never inserted it into the manuscript.”
“So,” Harry began slowly, soaking up this new information, “there is still the possibility that Voldemort could do this as long as Ginny and I are…”
“In theory, yes,” Borgin admitted. “Would it work?” he shrugged.
“Harry,” Dumbledore said gently, “there is always the possibility that Lord Voldemort will figure out a way to do anything. That does not mean under any circumstances we should give up the things that fulfill us and make us complete. From those things we gain our greatest strengths.”
Standing up, Dumbledore walked around to the front of his desk. “Now, Nathan,” he said, “have you heard what is to become of the remainder of your father’s work?”
“Yes, Professor,” Borgin answered also rising to his feet. “The Ministry is in the process of confiscating what they can locate of my father’s estate. I understand they are shortsightedly disposing of it. While I may never respect the man, after this, I cannot help but respect his work.”
Dumbledore nodded.
Turning to Harry, Borgin asked, “Harry, care to walk with me?
Harry stood up and numbly followed Professor Borgin out of Dumbledore’s office. When they gained the hallway, Borgin motioned for Harry to follow him into a nearby alcove.
“Harry, I wanted to say thank you for trusting me in the forest. I know how difficult it must have been for you to be stationary while Ginny was in danger,” he said. “And I wanted you to know Dumbledore wanted to be there in person, but we didn't want to make Malfoy suspicious. Had Dumbledore been present, it would have ruined a term’s worth of groundwork.”
Harry’s brow furrowed. “Groundwork?”
“My purpose for being here at Hogwarts is twofold. The first is to fill the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor. The second is to befriend Lucius Malfoy.“ Borgin paused to gauge Harry’s reaction. “Do you understand, Harry?”
Harry thought for a minute. Lucius Malfoy was one of Voldemort’s confidants. To befriend Lucius Malfoy meant to befriend Voldemort. Recognition dawned on Harry’s face.
“I’m a second ‘in’ for The Order -- one with less suspicious baggage,” Borgin affirmed quietly. “I’m not a Death Eater who left the fold.”
Harry nodded slowly and then asked the question that had been nagging at him for hours. “Would the blood really have killed Voldemort?”
“I don’t know, Harry,” Borgin said. “Maybe, maybe not. But it certainly would have done some damage.”
++++
The door chimes sounded at number four, Privet Drive. Harry heard the floorboards squeak and the click of the door handle. Aunt Petunia's gasp could be heard all the way upstairs in his room. He took that as a good sign.
"Who are you?" he heard Aunt Petunia ask harshly.
"Bill Weasley. I'm here for Harry."
Harry grimly stood up from his bed. Sliding his wand into his jeans pocket, Harry grabbed his trunk. He had never unpacked. He opened his door then picked up Hedwig's empty cage. She was out hunting but would know where he went.
"Good. BOY!”
Harry clenched his jaw shut, repeating the thought that had kept him going the past two weeks. Soon. I’ll see Ginny soon. I can do this, and then I’ll be able to see Ginny again. Standing on the landing at the top of the stairs, Harry could tell by the stoop of Bill's shoulders that he was exhausted. He knew that, of all her brothers, Bill and Ginny had always shared a special bond. As if sensing Harry’s presence, Bill looked up. Harry could see the lines of worry etched deeply around his eyes.
Harry descended the stairs. Aunt Petunia winced every time his trunk thumped and banged on a step. Stopping on the last step, Bill moved toward Harry. Bill rested his hand on Harry’s shoulder momentarily. Perhaps he was imagining it, but Harry thought he could feel the weight of the war in the palm sending warmth down his arm. Bill’s hand lifted, fisted in midair, and fell back to his side.
Bill's reddened eyes looked into Harry's. "She's going to be alright," he said quietly. Harry nodded.
Harry could feel Aunt Petunia's eyes on him. He turned to her and nodded. Her chin raised, she looked down her nose at him, turned on her heal and walked stiffly into the kitchen.
"You ready?" Bill asked quietly. Harry nodded again.
Holding out a chipped blue coffee mug, Bill took Hedwig's cage from Harry's hand. Harry placed a finger on the rim of the mug and felt the familiar tug behind his navel of a Portkey. Harry stumbled as his feet hit the floor of the kitchen in the Burrow. Straightening up, Harry looked around the kitchen, which was empty except for Mrs. Weasley, who was sitting at the table, her hands wrapped around a matching blue mug.
"Harry!" she exclaimed, standing up and moving toward him to give him a quick hug. "She's in her room. She knew you were coming," she added quietly, taking his trunk from him, giving it to Bill and maneuvering Harry toward the stairs.
"Does she know what happened?" Harry asked.
"Yes, we told her when she woke up. She wouldn't let us keep it to ourselves. She's rather stubborn, you know," Mrs. Weasley smiled gently at him and gave him a little push.
Harry smiled weakly in return and climbed the stairs. Facing the door to Ginny's room, Harry took a deep breath to compose himself and slowly turned the handle.
Dressed in her nightgown and dressing gown, Ginny sat on her bed, staring out the window. She turned as Harry entered. She blinked and focused her eyes. It took a few moments for her to realize who she was looking at. A gush of emotion she'd been holding at bay until she saw him exploded in her chest. Tears burned behind her eyes as she launched herself toward him. Harry stumbled slightly as Ginny wrapped herself around him, his arms hesitantly circling her waist. He felt her soft hair against his cheek and closed his eyes. Pulling her as close as she would come, Harry breathed deep.
"Harry," she said, her voice husky from unshed tears and lack of use. "Harry, I'm so sorry. I never knew - I never knew what you were facing."
Surprised, Harry opened his eyes. This wasn’t what he had expected. "Ginny, I �“ I wish you didn't know," he stammered, letting go of her.
"I know," she answered quietly.
Harry sat down on the trunk across from her bed, studying her face. She looked older, somehow.
Sitting back down on her bed, Ginny closed her eyes, suddenly very tired. She laid her head down on her pillow. Harry watched her for a minute, realizing she must still be very weak from her ordeal. Needing to be close to her, Harry moved to the bed, lying down behind her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close.
"Harry?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm sorry about the book. Was it badly damaged?"
"No," he answered, "not too badly."
Kissing her gently behind the ear, he felt her relax and listened as her breathing became deep and even in sleep. The fear he had been holding off cascaded through him. He could not bear to loose her. He felt tears begin to burn behind his eyes. Pushing these thoughts away, he closed his eyes to join her. He would have this time with her.
++++
When Ginny awoke, she was alone. Judging by the position of the sun, she guessed it was around noon. She rolled onto her back, feeling the blanket between her fingers, touching the pillow where Harry's head had left an impression. She listened to the sounds of the Burrow, the bangs from the attic, the clangs from the kitchen, the conversations from outside. Things were going to be okay.
The door to her room creaked open. Harry poked his head around the door, his hands cradling a mug. Ginny could see the steam rising off the liquid, fogging the bottom half of his glasses. She smiled at him and sat up, tucking her hair behind her ear. Her muscles felt sore and tired from lack of use, but for the first time in weeks, her mind felt clear.
"Hi," she smiled shyly at Harry.
"Hi back," he said, standing in the doorway. "You're mum thought you might be hungry."
"Yeah," she said. "Actually, I am."
Harry walked over and sat down on the trunk across from her again. He looked awkward and nervous, which Ginny found somewhat amusing considering where he had spent the last couple of hours. Ginny took the cup from his hands and sipped. As the warmth of the chicken soup seeped through her, she looked at Harry over the rim of the mug. He was looking at his hands clasped tightly between his knees.
Ginny lowered the mug. She rested one hand on his knee. Harry looked up, into her eyes.
"It's okay, Harry," Ginny started, "I'm okay."
"No, it's not okay. It's-it’s not okay," Harry replied, his voice breaking. He stood up and began pacing, rubbing the palms of his hands on his jeans in frustration. "You shouldn't be put through this! You don't need to be put through this."
"What do you mean? This isn’t your fault-"
"Yes it is! As long as you and I are dating, you are in danger."
"Harry, you're being stupid!"
“Ginny, don’t you understand? As long as I love you and you love me, he’ll want your blood. He thinks your blood will make him unstoppable!”
“But Borgin told Malfoy the blood would kill Voldemort!”
“Borgin told Malfoy the spell was incomplete. If Voldemort thinks it’s just a matter of missing spell work, he’ll come back for you. And when he does…” Harry felt his throat closing up at the thought of Ginny dying. Turning away from her, Harry took a deep breath. “And when he does, you’ll…you’ll die.”
“Harry, you aren’t making sense!”
The walls were beginning to close in on him. He was beginning to find it hard to breathe. “I won't let him kill you because of me!"
Harry pulled the door open and stormed out. Ginny watched his retreating back and pushed herself off the bed, her wobbly legs strengthened by the anger coursing through her. She shoved her window sash open and stuck her head out. A summer breeze brushed her face. She filled her lungs with fresh air.
Surveying the garden, Ginny saw her dad dismantling his latest Muggle acquisition, an “eclectic toaster oven”. Bill was repairing the broom shed door which had been badly damaged when the twins’ experimental confetti shooting mistletoe exploded six months early. Her mum was waving her wand, directing weeds from the vegetable patch into a pail sitting by her feet. Looking down, Ginny saw Harry storm out the Burrow door. She took a deep breath.
"HARRY JAMES POTTER!"
Harry whipped around and looked up, along with every other Weasley within earshot.
"HARRY JAMES POTTER!" she shouted at him again. "You are an IDIOT! You can't get rid of me. I am part of your life! You need me and I need you. Sure! Fine! Chalk it up to one more thing you have no choice in! After all these years, can't you get it through your thick skull you are stuck with me? I love you and I won’t let you go! That is what's written in my heart and you can go write that in the bloody stars!" Ginny pulled her head in and slammed her window sash down.
Harry stared dumbfounded at the closed window. A deep chuckle came from behind him. Harry turned his head to see Mr. Weasley standing in front of the shed. He walked over and placed a hand on Harry's shoulder.
"Harry, there's nothing you can do, son."
"Sir?"
"I'm sure your father would have told you the same. When you give your heart to a redheaded witch, she'll never give it back. But then again," Arthur Weasley continued, smiling, looking at his wife, "You'll never want it back either."
Mr. Weasley patted Harry on the shoulder and headed over to give his wife a kiss on the cheek.
++++
“Good Evening, Firenze. Another beautiful night, isn’t it?”
“Good Evening, Headmaster. The stars are exceptionally bright tonight.”
“Really? I will have to remember to pull the covers over my head, then, to get a good night sleep.”
“They sleep well for tonight,” the centaur commented before turning to walk back to the castle.
Dumbledore gazed up at the crystal clear night. “For tonight,” he repeated softly.
++++
Molly stopped in the doorway of the sitting room. Arthur walked up behind her and placed his hands on her upper arms and looked over her shoulder. Harry in his pajamas and Ginny in her nightgown and robe were snuggled up on the sofa, supposedly asleep in front of the fire.
“Leave them be, Molly,” Arthur said smiling gently and turning his wife toward the stairs. “No harm will come of it.”
Molly smiled. “I know,” she answered, eyes twinkling. “I took care of that.”
Harry waited until he heard footsteps on the stairs.
“Ginny?” he whispered.
“Hmm?” she answered as she snuggled closer.
Harry groaned inwardly. This was almost as bad as that dress, he thought ruefully. “What did your mum mean by ‘I took care of that’?”
Ginny giggled and moved her head back so she could look into Harry’s eyes. “When Bill started dating, Mum began putting anti-Entrancing Enchantment charms on the sofa. Whenever anyone crosses Mum’s line of what she considered acceptable snogging on the sofa, she fixed it so the cushions would start screeching so loud, they could be heard from the attic to the garden. Come to think of it, it actually sounds a lot like Mermish,” she mused.
“Ginny,” Harry asked nervously, “Uh, what does your mum think acceptable?”
“Not to worry," Ginny said as she reached up to remove Harry's glasses. "Let’s just say, with six older brothers, I’ve had plenty of time to observe my mum charming this sofa. If my brothers had been more observant, they, too, would have figured out the counter charm. Bill owes me a few favors, so..." she shrugged smiling. "Just remind me to have him put it back on later. Hermione arrives next week,” Ginny whispered impishly.
Harry grinned.
“I love you, Ginny Weasley,” he said softly as he leaned down to kiss his destiny.
+++++
AN �“ Well, there you have it. My heartfelt thanks to all who provided wonderful feedback which helped shape this story. Writing this has been an incredible learning experience in part due to you. Your insight and input were greatly appreciated and I believe made a for better story and a better author!
And again, all my thanks to my beta Lindsay. You were an invaluable asset!
Now I know, I’ve left a few burning questions there (Among others - Will Voldemort & Borgin ever meet? What happens to Malfoy? And I know the most burning one - Will Harry ever get to dance with Ginny? :) ). I’ve got the first three chapters in with my beta Lindsay and chapter four in with wvchemteach so hopefully I can get it posted here before too long. The working title right now is The Blood of the Heart.
Much like Dumbledore and Nathan, I have always loved to escape in a good story. I hope my story provided you with such a fun way to spend a little of your precious time. Thank you for reading, reviewing and hanging in there! Wahoo!