Harry mopped his brow with the hem of his t-shirt. Dumbledore had obtained permission for him to use magic outside of Hogwarts this summer for the purpose of dueling practice. Harry had suggested Ron and Hermione also participate as a way to keep their skills honed. Harry knew Hermioneâs wealth of knowledge on spells, hexes and charms definitely exceeded his own, but she tended to freeze under pressure. While Ron kept Harry on his toes, speed wise, Harry knew Ron certainly appreciated the opportunity to learn some new tricks from his friends.
Harry had argued that Ginny, too, needed to be practicing. The Ministry, however, in typical shortsighted fashion, had drawn the line, claiming Ginny was still too young. Harry had stewed about the decision until it occurred to him the Ministry hadnât said anything about her learning the spells. As long as Ginny didnât actually do the spells, she wasnât doing anything illegal by reading about them.
Knowing Ginnyâs birthday was fast approaching, Harry had been searching for the perfect gift. He would gladly give her the moon and every other planet that came with it if that was what she wanted. But Ginny wasnât a girl to be impressed by extravagant gifts or outlandish gestures. He knew this by how she had reacted to the gift of his motherâs poetry book. Ginny deserved something just as special â“ and useful.
It had taken two weeks of Ginnyâs badgering questions after she watched him, Ron and Hermione practicing, but Harry had finally figured out what to give her. He was going to give her the gift of knowledge. Stashing books away, marking the spells he, Ron and Hermione were learning, as well as any other spells he felt might come in useful, Harry was building Ginny quite the library. And as soon as the Ministry changed its stubborn mind, he planned to have Ginny just as prepared as the rest of them.
For the past six weeks, Ron, Hermione and Harry had seen a revolving door of Order members only too willing to step up to the task of putting them through their paces. Harry had noticed the Weasley brothers seemed to be the most enthusiastic about it, for some reason or other. Today had been Billâs turn. Harry had a few reddening burn marks as a result of the dueling practice. Of course, he smirked, it was nothing compared to what he had left on Bill.
âNice work, Harry!â Ron said, grinning at Bill who held a cloth with an anti-inflammatory ice charm on his arm.
âThanks,â Harry replied, returning the grin. âYou alright there, Bill?â
Bill snorted. âNever better,â he grimaced, lifting the towel to take a look at the burn.
âThanks for warming him up for me,â Ron said, pulling out his wand. âYou ready, old man?â
âOld man? Hermione, I hope you werenât planning anything special tonight,â Bill teased, tossing the cloth aside and returning to the dueling area. âThere might not be much left of my little brother when Iâm done with him.â
âNo?â Hermione bantered back. âWell, then, once my turn is over, I guess Iâll just have to let Fleur know she shouldnât plan on having children with you in the near future.â
âHermione!â Ron said shocked, as Bill choked on the gulp of water he had just taken.
âIâm going to go check on how Ginnyâs doing,â Harry said, chuckling.
âOh, fine, leave me here with these two,â Bill shouted at his back.
Harry waved at them over his shoulder and headed back to the Burrow. As he crossed the garden, Harry was surprised to see Nathan Borgin, hands in his pockets, walking up the front path. He watched as Nathan knocked on the kitchen door. Seconds later, Ginny opened it. Harry could see her smile from where he stood as she let the professor in. Looking up, Ginny saw Harry and gave him a little wave. He waved back as she closed the door.
Harry had gotten the distinct impression Nathan Borgin had not been pleased to see his mother yesterday in Weasleyâs Wizarding Wheezes. After the initial icy greeting, Catarina Borgin had quickly paid for her Skiving Snackbox, told the twins she would definitely be back and wished the rest of them a good afternoon, before following her son out the door.
âThat was odd,â Ron had said, watching the door close behind them.
âCold is more like it,â Ginny commented.
âHarry, did Borgin ever mention his family?â Hermione asked, shifting the oversized book she had purchased from one arm to the other.
Harry thought about it. He could still clearly recall the resigned look of acceptance in Borginâs eyes last term when he had revealed to Harry his reason for being at Hogwarts. Thinking back to the twisted tale of years of manipulation and eventual rejection by his father that Borgin had shared with him, Harry realized Borgin had never once mentioned his mother. Harry had assumed his mother had been absent, even dead.
âHe mentioned his father,â Harry answered, âbut not his mother.â
âWhat was his father like?â Ron asked curiously.
âNot like him,â Harry said, nodding his head in the direction of Borgin.
âI liked her,â Ginny said. âIt was strange, but when I shook her hand, it was like we were old friends or something, like we had lots in common.â
âYeah, we know what you mean,â Fred said. George nodded in agreement.
âOh, my!â Hermione commented, looking at her watch. âWe need to go. We promised your mum weâd be home before supper.â
With that, the twins had told Stewart they would be back in a bit and ushered everybody out of the shop.
Last night, Harryâs mind had kept returning to his Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and the nagging question of exactly what would happen if Voldemort ever did manage to combine his own blood, which contained some of Harryâs, with Ginnyâs blood. According to the spell Lucius Malfoy had attempted to perform, the combination of Harry and Ginnyâs blood within Voldemortâs body would give Voldemort true immortality. Borgin had said that technically, the spell would work. However, the circumstances for collecting the blood were unlikely to occur. Thinking that if there was good news regarding the spell, Borgin would have simply sent an owl, Harry quickened his pace.
Opening the door to the Burrow, Harry entered the kitchen. Nathan Borgin sat at the table, hands wrapped around a mug of tea, looking as if he hadnât had a full nightsâ sleep in a while. Join the club, Harry thought as he made his way to the sink for a glass of water. Ginny stood at the kitchen sink, pouring a second cup of tea. Harry glanced at the table as he passed and hid the grin that fought to surface.
Set out in a line, as if marching off to battle, was a roll of gauze bandages, a pair of scissors, a jar of paste the consistency and color of beaten egg yolks, and a glass bottle with a stopper containing a purple oil smelling vaguely of mint and lemons and tasting like burnt rubber. After the first day of dueling practice, Harry had stumbled in, exhausted, bruised, burned and missing a chunk of hair. He claimed the chunk of hair was due to a blasting curse gone wrong. Ginny believed him, until Fred came in, commenting that Georgeâs bald spot was much larger and proceeded to congratulate Harry on his spectacular choke hold. Ginny had patched Harry up best she could, leaving his bald spot as a reminder of why wizards duel with wands, not fists. She then promptly sent an owl to Madame Pomfrey, explaining the situation, and received back all the supplies necessary to ease any suffering caused by the result of dueling practice. It had been several weeks since she had had to uncork the bottle or cut a strip of gauze. However, Ginny still set up the items daily, just in case. Harry knew it gave her something to do and helped her feel useful. He smiled, thinking how, soon, she would have something else to keep her busy. Leaning over, he gave Ginny a quick kiss on the cheek. She wrinkled her nose.
âHarry, you stink,â she said, pushing him away gently.
âSo, a hug is out of the question?â he asked innocently.
âFor more reasons than just your personal hygiene,â she grinned, nodding at the table.
âHear, hear,â Borgin chimed in, toasting Ginny with his mug. âSo, Harry, howâs dueling practice going?â
âGood,â Harry said, sitting down across from the professor.
âLupin comes tomorrow, doesnât he?â Ginny asked, sitting down next to Harry.
Harry nodded.
âExcellent,â Nathan said. âHeâs very proud of what youâve accomplished, Harry, for good reason, too. Iâm hoping to get into the rotation, too. I could use a little practice. My dueling skills have gotten rusty.â
âSure,â Harry said, flushing slightly. He had known he was getting stronger. Thinking on his feet was something Harry had always excelled in; with the DA and now daily dueling practice, his repertoire of spells had grown to match his speed. He was a little embarrassed that Lupin was bragging about him, but, at the same time, rather proud that he had impressed him.
Nathan cleared his throat. âI need to talk to you two about something Iâve discovered,â he said, setting his tea cup down on the table and clasping his hands together.
âOkay,â Harry said, leaning back.
âWhat about?â Ginny asked, scooting her chair forward.
âAbout the immortality spell Lucius Malfoy attempted,â Nathan replied seriously.
Ginny blinked at Nathan before scooting her chair backward. Instinctively, she reached for Harry who enveloped her hand in his own and rested it on his knee.
âIt will work,â Harry said tonelessly.
âYes â“ and no,â Nathan answered. âThe reasons it will and wonât work havenât changed. What I have discovered is a way to make sure it will never work.â
âWhat do you mean?â Ginny asked.
âHave you ever heard of Blood Bonding?â Nathan asked, looking from Ginny to Harry who both shook their heads. Taking a deep breath, Nathan stood up and began to pace, as if he were delivering a lecture in class.
âBlood bonding is a form of protection used by witches and wizards who practice Ancient Magic. The basic concept states that, through the combining of blood, a bond is formed, making it impossible for the blood given to be used against the witch and wizard who gave it.â
âWe donât practice ancient magic,â Ginny said slowly, her brow furrowed.
Nathan waved his hand as if to erase what he had just said. âIâm sorry, Iâve been thinking of this all night. That wasnât a very good way to start.â Taking a deep breath, he tried again. âThere is a ceremony that can provide you, Ginny, and you, Harry, protection from Voldemort ever being successful in regard to immortality spells involving your blood.â
Nathan paused. Ginny nodded slightly to indicate she understood. Harry just looked at Borgin, his expression unreadable. Borgin made a mental note to tell Harry to practice that look during dueling; his opponent would never know what he was thinking.
âA Blood Bonding is based on deep emotion, usually taking place between a witch and a wizard who are in love. One of the parties must be of age, the belief being that when a witch or wizard achieves the age of seventeen, the heart has become stable enough to make this type of commitment. The other stipulation is one of the parties must act as a Mediator.â
âA wha -â Ginny and Harry both started simultaneously before Borgin held up his hands.
âA Mediator is a type of Healer, a facilitator of emotion and blood.â Borgin explained, turning to lean on the edge of the sink. âIt is a specialized skill that has been passed down from Mediator to Mediator. A Mediator is not born; however, to become a one, the witch must exhibit certain characteristics.â
âWitch?â Ginny asked.
âIt most often is a witch, especially in bondings of younger couples such as yourself,â Borgin said. âIâve been told this is the case because young men of seventeen, while their hearts may be mature enough, they can still be somewhat hot headed and volatile,â he said, smiling slightly at Harry, who did not smile back.
âAnd you think I have this â“ this ability?â Ginny asked.
Borgin nodded. âWithout training, a Mediator will be able to act as a calming force to her bond. She will provide a grounding, a center for her wizard. With training, a Mediator can take that skill and parlay it into the ability to heal her bondâs blood. Through a Mediatorâs ministrations, the body learns to accept the toxins, fight them and ultimately becomes stronger because of them.â
Ginny tightened her grip on Harryâs hand. A sense of excited panic was beginning to grow in her stomach. She glanced at Harry who, in turn, was studying her. Turning his gaze to Borgin, Harry nodded slowly.
âShe â“ she always seems to, I donât know, calm me down, make things okay,â he finished, blushing slightly at revealing something so personal to someone else.
âShe centers you,â Borgin nodded in agreement.
âHello, Iâm still in the room,â Ginny said, her voice rising slightly.
Boring smiled gently at her. âAnother sign that led me to believe you might have this aptitude was how you recovered this summer. It made sense for you to withdraw into yourself in order to heal. Itâs what Mediators do, heal from the inside out.
âWith a Blood Bonding, the Mediator who participates in the actual ceremony is able to combine the blood in a way that makes it inseparable, and therefore impenetrable,â Borgin continued.
âWhy do you know so much about Mediators?â Harry asked suddenly.
âMediators work in ancient magic, Harry,â Borgin replied. âThey believe the strength of the body is in its blood. To heal the body, you make the blood stronger. To make the blood stronger, you make the body open to healing.â
âYou said one of us has to be of age in order to make this type of commitment. What do you mean, âthis type of commitmentâ?â Ginny asked.
Borgin took a deep breath and pushed away from the sink. Pulling his chair back out from the table, he sat down across from the two teenagers.
âBlood bonds are not random, and not,â Nathan paused, ânot always a true love match, although the most successful ones are. A Mediator can bond once in her lifetime, maybe twice,â he explained. Taking a deep breath, Nathan looked deep into Ginnyâs eyes. âMediators do not have a choice in who they are able to bond with. They are born with their bond. It is probably why you have always been drawn to Harry.â
âY â“ you mean, we were destined to be together?â she whispered. Ginny could feel her heart pounding. She wasnât sure if it was from anger or fear or excitement. She didnât want to look at Harry, afraid of what she might see in his expression. She didnât want to see anger there. She knew he wouldnât blame her personally, but she could understand if he felt this one more thing he had no control over.
âYes and no,â Borgin answered. âYour bond is Harry. However, that doesnât mean you would have necessarily ever met or fallen in love with each other. You could have easily fallen in love with Neville or Colin, gotten married, had twelve kids and never been the wiser.â Borgin smiled as he saw Ginny grimace and Harry scowl. âHowever, your talents have come to the surface because you did meet and you have fallen in love. Your Blood Bonding, should you choose to do it, will be successful because he is your bond.â
âAre you sure?â she asked.
âYes,â Borgin confirmed. âIâm sure. All the signs are there.â
Ginny felt Harry lift her hand off his knee and envelope it with both of his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. She turned her head. Harry smiled gently at her. She smiled back, tears rushing to her eyes as she realized he wasnât angry over this.
Clearing his throat, Harry kept his gaze locked with Ginnyâs. âSo if we said yes, how would Ginny learn to become a Mediator? What do we need to do?â
âGinny would need to apprentice with another Mediator. Finding a Mediator to train with can be difficult as there arenât many known ones in the wizarding world,â Borgin said matter of factly. âOnce she has completed her training, you two would need to do a Blood Bonding. Once bonded, your blood could not be used against youâ
âWhat happens after weâre bonded? I mean, does that mean we stay together forever?â Ginny asked.
âNot necessarily. But you wonât be able to bond with anyone else, unless your bond with Harry is broken.â
âHow does a bond break?â Ginny asked.
âOne of you would have to die.â
Silence fell in the kitchen. Borgin looked at Ginny and Harry and sighed. To be so young and be put through so much, he thought. Fighting to keep the guilt out of his mind, Borgin pushed his chair back and stood up. It had been agreed he should reveal enough to convince them, but not too much to scare them. He knew it was vitally important Harry and Ginny agree to this, but he had fought hard to let it be their choice. He just hoped they still talked to him when it was all over.
Ginny took a deep breath. âCan we talk about it?â
âOf course,â Borgin said. âI will see you in a few days,â he said as he walked around the table toward the kitchen door. âYou can tell me your decision then. Just so you know, I havenât mentioned this to your parents, Ginny, or to the entire Order. Dumbledore knows. So does Snape.â
Harry head jerked up. âSnape? Why does Snape know?â
âBecause Snape is quite knowledgeable on the subject of Blood Bonding,â Borgin replied.
Harry gritted his teeth. He wasnât sure he liked the idea of sharing something that seemed so personal with anyone, least of all his most hated professor. He could just see Snape using this information for some horrible, twisted use.
Nodding to Ginny, Borgin turned the doorknob and stopped. Turning around, he reached into his pocket and drew out a rectangular parcel. âI almost forgot. I know this is early, but happy birthday, Harry.â
Surprised, Harry reached out and took the parcel. âThank you.â
âOpen it,â Ginny urged.
Harry turned the package open and ripped the paper at the seam. The wrapping slipped off to reveal a book bound in soft brown leather. Turning it over, he read the title, The Three Musketeers. He smiled. âThanks.â
Borgin grinned and nodded. âOne of my favorites. Enjoy!â Opening the door, Borgin stepped out into the summer sun.
Harry flipped open the book. Nathan had written an inscription on the back of the front cover.
Fighting the good fight is always easier with friends.
Happy Birthday
Nathan Borgin
Suddenly, Ginny pushed her chair back and stood up. She quickly walked to the kitchen door and opened it. Stepping out into the bright sunshine, she held up her hand to shield her eyes.
âProfessor?â she called.
Nathan stopped and turned around.
âProfessor,â Ginny repeated, running up to him. âYou said I would need to apprentice with another Mediator, and Mediators are hard to find. Do you know one?â
Borgin nodded. âI think youâll like her. She certainly likes you.â
++++
The sunshine hurt his eyes as Harry stepped out of the kitchen. Squinting, Harry looked in the direction he had seen Ginny disappear. He had watched her catch up with Borgin, talk to him for a moment, then turn and head off through the garden. Borgin had watched Ginny go, too, before resuming his path. Harry wasnât sure why the professor hadnât Disapparated to his flat in Diagon Alley or even used the Floo. Then again, Harry wasnât sure he was all that surprised, either. Some things about Nathan Borgin were just downright Muggle in nature. Judging by what Ginny had said about his motherâs passion for all things Muggle, Harry figured it might be genetic. If it was, and it simply had skipped a generation in the Weasley brood, he wondered if any kids he and Ginny had would be doomed. Kids, he thought. Yeah, he smiled. He could see kids.
Returning to the present, Harry headed through the garden, slightly annoyed Ginny hadnât come back into the kitchen to talk. He found her, leaning against a gnarled old apple tree. Ginny turned her head at the sound of the grass rustling.
Seeing Harry, she tried to smile, her face pale in the bright sun, her eyes moist with unshed tears. His annoyance melting away, Harry pulled her to him, wrapping his other arm around her. He realized he was kind of used to getting huge life altering plots dropped in his lap. While he was not sure this was a good thing, he could understand the mind-numbing shock that must be running through Ginny right now. It was coursing through his veins, too, but he had practice with this. He tried to think of something to say, but everything he thought of sounded so inadequate in his mind, that in the end, he simply held her until he felt her trembling stop.
Ginny shifted her head so her cheek rested on the soft blue cotton of Harryâs t-shirt. Her breathing ragged, she wiped at the dampness on her cheeks. Clearing her throat, she looked up at Harry.
âIâm so sorry, Harry,â she whispered.
Surprised, Harry looked at her. âSorry? Sorry for what?â
She sniffled and wiped at the dampness on her cheeks. âYouâre really stuck with me now. I mean, when you first got here and walked out of my room and I yelled at you through the window, I meant it when I said you were stuck with me. But I didnât mean it like this. Damn it, Harry, you canât seem to have anything in your life that is just yours to decide!â
Harry blinked at her. âGinny, arenât you in the same boat? You didnât have a choice either.â
Ginny shrugged her shoulders. âI donât mind, all that much.â
Harry snorted. âAll that much?â
Ginny sighed. âYou know what I mean.â
I donât mind. Ginny didnât mind being stuck with him, baggage and all. Harry thought his heart might break with the love he felt for her. Harry closed his eyes and held on tight. They stood there for several minutes, gaining strength from each other.
âThank you,â Ginny said quietly.
Surprised, Harry opened his eyes and looked down into Ginnyâs face. âFor what?â
âFor being here.â
âItâs all part of the deal,â he said smiling softly down at her.
âThe deal?â
âYeah, you put up with me and my fate, I put up with you and yours.â
Ginny hiccupped and giggled. âFair enough,â she agreed, âbut it sounds like we donât have much choice in that.â Taking a deep breath, Ginny leaned her forehead on Harryâs shoulder, enjoying the strength there. âIâm sorry, these stupid tears. I donât even know why Iâm crying.â She felt Harry nod in sympathy. âI guess Iâm just surprised and angry and terrified and â“ and excited, too.â Ginny lifted her head and looked up at Harry. âDoes that make sense?â
Harry nodded solemnly. âTo me, it does,â he said quietly.
Ginny placed a hand on the side of Harryâs cheek. âYes, it would, wouldnât it?â she said. Drawing her hand back into her chest, Ginny rested her head back on Harryâs shoulder. âCan we stay here a while?â she asked.
Harry didnât answer; he simply tightened his hold on her and closed his eyes.
+++++
Sleep did not seem to be on Harryâs agenda tonight. Punching his pillow, he rolled over to face the wall, listening to the sounds of the Burrow and thinking about the day. Ginny constantly amazed him. He remembered back to when he had first learned his life wasnât necessarily his own and how angry he had been for so long. He had always known she was an incredible person, and today she had astounded him once again.
Sighing, he flopped back onto his back.
Tink!
Harry rolled over.
Tink! Tink!
Harry pulled the blankets over his head.
Tink!
Harry sat bolt upright in bed and grabbed his wand from under his pillow. Reaching over for his glasses, he quickly put them on and looked around the room. It was empty.
CLUNK!
Harry realized something was hitting his window. Heart thumping madly, Harry cautiously opened the sash and peered over the windowsill. A sudden sharp pain exploded in his forehead, causing him to jerk upward banging the bottom of the window with the back of his head. âOW!â he exclaimed, clamping one hand to his forehead and one to the base of his neck.
âHarry? Are you alright?â Ginny whispered.
Harry opened an eye and looked down to see Ginny standing below his window, her arm cocked back ready to pitch what looked like another rock at his window. Removing his hand from his forehead, he checked for blood. A few drips were present from what felt like a cut at his hairline. He snorted. Just what he needed, another scar.
âHarry?â Ginny repeated.
âGin, what are you doing? Are you okay?â he asked.
âTrying to get you out of bed! Come down here,â she said, motioning for him to join her outside.
âItâs the middle of the night!â
âWere you asleep?â
âWell, no, but thatâs not the point!â
âCome on, Harry. Please?â Ginny pleaded.
âFine, okay. Hang on,â Harry said. âIâll be right there.â He pulled his head in and shut the sash. Pulling a jumper over his t-shirt, Harry slipped on his shoes. Ginny was waiting for him by the kitchen door.
âYouâre dressed,â he observed, slightly annoyed.
Ginny ignored him and grabbed his hand. Tugging him forward, she smiled. âAlright, close your eyes.â
âWhy?â
âCome on, Harry, itâs a surprise!â she pleaded.
âOkay, okay. Theyâre closed.â
Ginny took Harryâs hand and led him past the broom shed, into the garden, all the way to the grove in the back and stopped. Looking up at Harry, Ginny smiled shyly and said quietly, âYou can open your eyes now.â
Harry opened his eyes to see paper lanterns hanging in the branches of the trees, flickering light jumping from lantern to lantern. Under one tree, a soft crackling emitted from a mass of wires and knobs sitting on top of a rock. Letting go of Harryâs hand, Ginny walked over and banged the rock with her palm. The static was replaced with a soft swaying melody and Harry smiled in surprise.
âThatâs a radio!â
âItâs my dadâs. He, uh, fixed it,â Ginny answered, her impish grin sliding back into a shy smile. Ginny dropped to a quilt on the grass and pulled Harry down next to her. Leaning back, Ginny pulled two packages from behind the rock the radio rested on.
âHappy birthday, Harry,â she said holding out the parcels.
Harry looked at the gifts in surprise. His birthday wasnât until tomorrow, and after what had happened today, the last thing he had expected was presents for him.
Ginny smiled at him. âCome on, Harry. Open your presents!â she urged, pushing them into his hands, her giggling anticipation becoming contagious.
Grinning, he took the gifts and gave Ginny a quick kiss on the cheek. Setting the thicker of the two aside, Harry undid the ribbon and pushed aside the brown paper. Nestled in tissue, was the picture of his dad and Sirius, the corners flattened, the crease ironed, in a polished silver frame. Harry smiled at the two friends and then at Ginny.
âThank you,â he said softly.
Ginny nodded. âI thought you might like to take that back to school,â Ginny said.
Leaning over, Harry propped the picture on the rock next to the radio and picked up the other parcel. Tearing the brown paper, Harry turned over a book and read, Modern Hexology â“ A Practical Guide to Todayâs Most Useful Hexes. Harry chuckled.
âIâve marked a few I think would be good to learn,â Ginny asserted.
âIâll get to work on it as soon as possible,â Harry grinned.
Silence fell between them as the trees danced in the soft evening breeze to the music swirling upwards. Harry looked at Ginny who was picking at a loose quilt piece, slowly unweaving the pattern, thread by thread. Reaching over, he placed his hand on hers.
âAre you okay, Ginny?â he asked softly.
Ginny looked up at him and tried to smile. She settled on nodding. âI will be,â she said softly. âHow about you?â
âIâm sorry, Ginny,â Harry said, not knowing what else to say.
âHarry, why should you be sorry? This isnât your doing,â Ginny stated as she wove her fingers in between Harryâs. âBesides,â she said, smiling slightly, âmost couples would love to have as much as we do in common. I mean, on top of being smart, good looking and Gryffindors, weâre both on Voldemortâs Top 10 list,â she said, grimacing at the use of the Dark Lordâs name.
Harry snorted. âThatâs not really funny,â he said.
âYeah,â Ginny agreed, âbut if I donât laugh, Iâm going to cry and Iâd rather laugh. In our old age, I donât want you to look back on your seventeenth birthday and only be able to remember me soaking the front of your shirt.â
âI wouldnât mind, you know,â Harry said sympathetically.
Ginny cocked her head to the side and smiled at him. âI know you wouldnât. Thatâs why I love you.â
âDo you want to do it? The Blood Bonding?â Harry asked.
Ginny took a deep steadying breath. âI donât want to think about it tonight, Harry. I will think about it tomorrow. Right now,â she said, standing up and brushing the grass off her jeans, âI owe you a dance from the recognition dinner. Iâm a little late in asking, but would you do me the honor and dance with me on your seventeenth birthday?â she asked, holding out her hand.
Harry took Ginnyâs hand, letting her help him up. Ginny led him to the middle of the glowing lantern light. Wrapping his arms around her, Harry closed his eyes and swayed to the music, soaking up all the goodness that Ginny brought with her. He had everything he wanted on his seventeenth birthday right here.
âGinny?â he asked softly.
âWhat? Is something wrong?â Ginny asked, concerned, leaning back so she could look into his eyes.
âNo, nothingâs wrong,â he rushed to assure her, accepting her need to forget for just a little while. He pulled her closer, if that was possible. âThis â“ this is perfect. Thank you.â
Ginny wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes. âYouâre very welcome, Harry,â she whispered against his lips.
Suddenly, Harry realized they were stopped in front of the rock holding the radio and the picture of James and Sirius. Pulling away from Ginny, Harry leaned down and laid the photo face down to the rock. Straightening up, Harry grinned at Ginny.
âSoâŚwhere were we?â
++++
A/N â“ Thank you, thank you, thank you to my betas, wvchemteach and pavartipatil. It makes sense because of you two!
This is posting a little early because I am off on Spring Break starting Thursday. Unfortunately, I will not be laying on a warm sandy beach, gazing up at a palm tree, drinking drinks with paper umbrellas in them. Instead, I will be watching my children be spoiled rotten by their grandparents back in the Midwest. Itâs not the spoiling I mind so much. Itâs the deprogramming when we return home that I dread.
Next update (most likely the end of next week)âŚHappy Birthday, Harry
Enjoy!