The knock on his door startled Nathan out of his morning stupor. He hadn’t had his tea yet. Whoever was at his door at this hour was taking his life in his hands. Pulling his robe closed over his pajamas and knotting the tie, Borgin grabbed his wand off the kitchen table and headed toward the door.
“What could you possibly need at this time of day?” he growled as he whipped opened the door, pointing his wand at the chest of his unwanted guest.
“Really, Nathan, do you think that’s necessary?” Catarina asked, pushing the tip of the wand away from her.
“Yes, I do,” Nathan scowled stepping aside to let his mother enter. “What do you want, Mother?” he repeated.
“How did she take it?”
“She?”
“Well, both of them. You know what I mean.”
“They took it as well as could be expected,” Nathan replied, shutting the door and shuffling back to the kitchen.
“You told them this would protect them?” Catarina badgered
“Yes, Mother, I told them it would protect them,” Nathan replied, looking around his kitchen in a foggy daze. Running his hands through his mussed hair, he looked down at his front. Pajamas and a robe weren’t formal enough for this conversation. “I’ll be back in a moment,” he said, shuffling past his mother and into his bedroom.
“You told her she would need to become a Mediator?” Catarina called, as she wandered around Nathan’s home. He had so many shelves, all crammed with books, but not one single photograph. She sighed. Her fault as well, she supposed.
Buttoning his shirt, Nathan emerged from his bedroom, fully clothed if not fully awake. He sighed. “Yes, Mother. I told them one of them had to be of age; one had to be a Mediator; she could only bond once; you had agreed to apprentice her; I’d be back in a couple of days for an answer, and,” Borgin finished, exasperated, “they had to name their firstborn after me.”
“Well, I’m sure she won’t be teased too much at school, with a name like Nathan. Maybe they can call her Nat? People will think it’s short for Natalie,” Catarina mused, a teasing twinkle in her eye.
Borgin rolled his eyes. “I saw that,” she commented, sitting down at his kitchen table.
“Tea?” Borgin asked.
“Please,” she answered. “With milk, thank you.”
The noises of the tea preparation interrupted the silence in the flat. Catarina followed her son’s movements as he got down the tea cups, filled the kettle with water, and lit the fire under it with his wand. She smiled.
“What?” he asked, noticing the attention.
“You do it the Muggle way, too,” Catarina said.
“Tea out my wand tastes odd,” Nathan said. “It tastes wooden.”
Catarina nodded in agreement as the tea kettle whistled. Pouring the hot water over the tea bags, Nathan set the kettle down, picked up the mugs and carried them to the table. Handing his mother a small pitcher of milk, Nathan sat down and cradled his warm mug between his hands.
“I hated it,” he said quietly. “I hated not telling them.”
“I know,” she said softly. “But it’s best this way. If the bonding occurs as planned, they will never have to know the rest.”
Borgin took a sip of tea and asked a question that had been nibbling at the back of his mind from the first moment he had seen his mother in the joke shop. “Why did you ever marry him?”
Catarina bit her bottom lip. She looked down at her mug, watching the white swirl of milk circle the tea turning it a murky tan. “I had to, Nathan.”
Nathan’s head jerked up. “You had to?”
“No, no, it was nothing like that,” Catarina rushed, her cheeks turning pink. “You are your father’s son, no question about that.”
Nathan swallowed and nodded. He would be lying to admit that he wasn’t slightly disappointed by that answer. But, then again, knowing the alternative, maybe it was for the best.
”Your father was a fascinating, intelligent man. When we first met, he wasn’t so focused on “ on what he ended up as. He was quite fetching, funny and passionate about everything. At the time I met him, I was vulnerable. I needed someone to take care of me, protect me. He offered; I accepted,” she said. Blinking herself back to the present, Catarina sighed. “And then he suffocated the life out of me.”
Catarina looked up at her son and smiled softly. She so desperately wanted to reach out to him, to cover one of his hands with her own, like she used to do to his younger self after a particularly rough patch. A mother needs to touch, she thought. Instead, she tightened her grip on her mug.
“Nathan, I never wanted to hurt you. You were my heart. You were what kept me going in that house. It broke my heart to leave you, but Albus said he would look out for you, make sure you were alright. I had to trust him in order to save myself. It may have been selfish, but I was afraid for reasons bigger than us.”
Nathan looked into his mother’s eyes, seeing years of regret and guilt in them. His youthful self would never forgive her, no matter how much he understood her reasons. But, looking at this woman who protected and loved him as best she could, he hoped his older self might be able to.
Knowing that rebuilding relationships took time, Catarina set down her empty mug.
“Well,” she said. “I need to get a few things. I left my cottage not knowing how much I would need, so I brought nothing. I am going to do a little shopping. Would you care to come with me?”
Borgin shook his head. “No, I have a little reading to do here.”
“When do you not have a little reading to do?” she teased, tilting her head toward the stack of books on the kitchen counter.
“I am your son, Mother,” Nathan shrugged.
“Yes, you are,” Catarina smiled.
++++
Catarina scratched Nathan’s cat, Accio, behind the ears as she closed the door to the flat behind her. Straightening up, she rested her hand on the rail and descended the stairs to the alleyway. Stepping out into Diagon Alley, she turned toward The Leaky Cauldron and Muggle London. A hooded figure brushed against her as she passed Flourish & Blotts. She glanced over her shoulder and watched the figure turn into the alley, thinking it awfully warm to be wearing a wool cloak with the hood up in July.
The hooded figure climbed the stairs to the second floor landing. Accio hissed at the polished black boots. One of the boots shot out, making contact with the cat, sending it sprawling into the pot of yellow pansies sitting by the door. Hissing the cat scrambled up on its four paws, causing the clay pot to teeter then topple, roll off the second floor landing, falling and crashing into the cobblestone below.
Hearing the commotion, Nathan stood up from the table. Reaching for his wand, he pulled open the door to his flat, only to be blinded by light.
++++
If the smell of sizzling bacon hadn’t been enough to drag Ginny from her bed this morning, the sheer volume of sound coming from the kitchen would have. It was Harry’s seventeenth birthday and, judging by the amount of noise downstairs, the entire wizarding world had shown up to give him their best wishes. Smiling to herself, Ginny put her feet on the floor and stretched. She stood up and reached for her robe she had thrown across the end of her bed and slipped it on. Tying the ends of her belt in a knot, she opened her bedroom door.
If she had thought the noise filtering through her bedroom door was loud, it was nothing compared to the cacophony of sound that hit her square in the face as she stepped out into the hallway. She giggled. She couldn’t have asked for a better birthday present for Harry than to be enveloped in all the fun loving noise and commotion that celebrating such a momentous occasion brought in the Weasley household.
“What’s so funny?”
Grinning, Ginny looked up to find Harry standing in the middle of the hall, still in his own pajamas, looking wonderfully warm and fuzzy. Stepping toward him, she wrapped her arms around his waist and snuggled up, kissing the side of his neck.
“Happy birthday, Harry,” she giggled.
Returning the hug, Harry smiled into her hair, breathing deeply the warm, downy smell that spoke of sweet dreams and sunshine. “If this is any indication to how my day is going to turn out, I’m going to have a great birthday,” Harry murmured, placing a light kiss behind Ginny’s ear.
“Mmmm…” Ginny hummed. As she titled her head to the side, giving Harry a clearer path to continue his nibbling down her neck, a shattering crash exploded from the kitchen.
“Fred! George! What are you doing?” Mrs. Weasley voice could be heard plainly above the din.
Harry sighed, resting his forehead against Ginny’s shoulder.
“Ronald! Those are for breakfast. Keep your hands away!”
Harry chuckled. Lifting his head, he looked down into Ginny’s eyes which were twinkling merrily.
“Be careful what you wish for, Harry,” Ginny said impishly.
“I don’t need to wish for anything,” Harry replied, trying to keep a straight face. “I have everything I need right here in my arms.’
Ginny chortled, and swatted Harry in the chest. “That was awful.”
“Yeah,” Harry said, letting his grin come to the surface. “Awful, but true,” he said, leaning down to touch his lips to hers.
Ginny rolled her eyes, but Harry noticed the pleased pink flush as she brushed by him on her way to the loo.
++++
Hair still damp from the shower, Harry flopped down on the ground under the old oak tree in the back of the garden. Ginny sat down cross legged next to Harry, trading him a sandwich wrapped in a red checkered napkin for a cold butterbeer.
After passing his Apparation test at the Ministry, the morning had been spent in a rowdy Quidditch match; Ron, Bill and Fred against Harry, George and Ginny. Good natured catcalls and teasing filled the air as they played. Once they had finished, Ron and Hermione had looked somewhat put out when Harry had said he wanted to have lunch alone with Ginny. He felt a little guilty about that, but he and Ginny needed to talk. Nathan had said he would be back in a couple of days for an answer.
Folding the napkin back from her sandwich, Ginny placed it on the ground and stared at it. She had accepted the sandwiches her mother had foisted on her because she knew if she said she wasn’t hungry, her mother would start asking questions. She wasn’t ready to answer questions yet.
Glancing over, she smiled gently. Harry hadn’t touched his sandwich either. Pushing hers aside, she rested her elbows on her knees. Giving up on his sandwich too, Harry put it next to Ginny’s and sighed.
“Well…,” Ginny started.
“Yeah,” Harry replied.
Uncrossing her legs, Ginny stood back up, brushing her hands off on the legs of her jeans and beginning to pace. Harry stood up, too, and leaned against the tree, watching Ginny.
“Why would we not do this?” Ginny asked.
“I don’t know,” Harry answered truthfully. “I was thinking we should ask Hermione if she knows anything about this - or knows a book we can find it in.”
“Just in case…” Ginny’s voice trailed off.
Harry nodded. Silence fell as they contemplated what Borgin may not have told them.
“Okay, then,” Harry said, breaking the silence. “Why would we do this?”
“Well, Professor Borgin says if we do this bonding, he can’t use our blood for an immortality spell,” Ginny said.
“And, as of today, I’m of age,” Harry stated.
“And I supposedly have what it would take to be a - a Mediator. Your mediator,” she finished quietly, catching her bottom lip in her teeth.
Harry reached over and took one of her hands, pulling her toward him until they were toe to toe, standing under the tree. “Ginny, I’m glad you are my mediator. Are you?” he asked hesitantly.
Ginny blinked at him. “Harry, it makes sense. I - I can’t imagine anything else.”
Harry took Ginny’s face in his hands and gently kissed her softly. Ginny leaned her cheek against the palm of his hand and smiled up at him, feeling oddly giddy.
“Well…” Harry said, smiling back.
“Yeah,” Ginny replied, nodding.
Harry took a deep breath and grinned. Ginny giggled. “Hungry?” she asked.
“Yeah, starving,” Harry said, sitting down and pulling Ginny beside him. “So, what did you ask Borgin yesterday when you ran after him?” Harry asked, reaching out for his sandwich.
“I asked him if he knew a Mediator I could apprentice with,” Ginny said, taking a sip of butterbeer. “He said he did. His mother.”
“Catarina?” Harry asked surprise.
Ginny nodded. “You seem surprised.”
“Yeah, well, last term, from what Borgin said about his father, he wasn’t very nice. It’s just hard to think of someone who claimed to like a good prank being connected with someone so obsessed with death and dying.”
“Well, Borgin did say a Mediator is born with her bond. Maybe Catarina didn’t have a choice,” Ginny suggested, shrugging.
“Yeah,” Harry said thoughtfully. “I still think we need to ask Hermione.”
“Definitely,” Ginny agreed, setting her napkin down beside her.
Laying back on the ground, Harry rested his head on his hands and closed his eyes. Seconds later, he felt Ginny stretch out beside him, her head resting on his chest, her arm around his waist, her leg intertwined with his. Slipping his hand out from under his head, Harry ran his fingers down her back before pulling her closer.
“You know,” Harry began lazily.
“Hmm?” Ginny murmured, the warmth of the sun and Harry’s heartbeat making her drowsy.
“I’d say you have it pretty good,” Harry commented.
Lifting her head, Ginny looked up at Harry. “What do you mean?”
“Well, look at who Catarina ended up with,” he said, “and look who you get. I think you did pretty well for yourse-oof!,” he exclaimed as Ginny hit him in the stomach. Reaching over with his other hand, he pulled Ginny up so she was laying on top of him.
“You know, Harry, it’s a good thing today is your birthday,” Ginny grinned good naturedly, wiggling around just enough to make Harry groan.
“Yes, it is,” he agreed, before directing her mouth to his.
++++
Nathan groaned, his stomach threatening to heave its contents onto the floor where he now lay.
“Lucius, this is getting a little old,” he muttered.
“Perhaps.”
At the unfamiliar voice, Borgin’s head snapped up, a sharp pain shooting through his temple. Placing his hands palm down on the floor, he carefully pushed himself to his knees then slowly got to his feet. Straightening his shoulders, the room spun causing him to put his hands back on his knees to brace himself. Cursing himself for this sign of weakness, he tried to cover it by keeping his tone mild.
“You aren’t Lucius Malfoy,” Borgin commented, gradually walking his hands up his thighs until he was standing straight.
“No, I’m not,” Voldemort replied. “Good evening, Nathan.”
“Lord Voldemort.”
“I understand you could be useful to me.”
“Is that why you sent Malfoy to my flat this morning?”
“I sent Malfoy to deliver my invitation. I can not help how he delivered you to me.”
Borgin shrugged. “What do you want from me?”
“I do not like to be in debt to anyone, especially someone I don’t know,” the Dark Lord hissed.
“Consider it a favor,” Borgin replied casually.
“I don’t accept favors.”
“Than you have a problem,” Borgin stated.
“Yes, I do. When I have a problem, I either fix it or get rid of it. Which do you think I should do?” Voldemort asked, raising his wand and pointing it at his guests’ chest.
++++
Nathan rolled over, his cheek touching the cool hard surface of a floor. Slowly opening his eyes, he realized he was back in his flat. I guess he decided to ‘fix’ the problem, Nathan thought, wincing as stretched his legs. Slowly, he pushed himself up until he was partially leaning against the wall.
His apartment had been ransacked. Drawers were pulled out and dumped, dishes broken, books thrown from the shelves and ripped in two. The coldness running through his veins at this invasion into his life froze the pain. Shifting slowly so he could crane his neck to see into his study, he saw his desk shattered, the contents strewn across the floor.
Closing his eyes to shut out the chaos, Nathan slowly lifted his hand to his face to feel the damage. The soreness he felt as he prodded his swollen jaw and oozing abrasions was nothing compared to the lightening pain that shot up his other arm as he attempted to push himself into a seated potion.
“Bloody hell!” Nathan hissed as he righted himself. Gingerly, he laid his arm in his lap. Carefully, he unbuttoned the cuff and rolled back the shirtsleeve. Grimly, he prodded the puckered, swollen tissue, still oozing fresh blood.
For better or for worse, he was one of them now.
++++
Molly smiled as she filled the sink with hot soapy water. Poor Harry couldn’t even win a game of wizard’s chess on his birthday, judging by the sounds of the ribbing coming from the sitting room. The Order members who had joined them, Remus and Tonks among others, had returned to their homes or posts. Bill had gone home shortly before the twins had headed off to their flat above Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes. Arthur had Apparated to Headquarters to check on things after dinner had ended, leaving the Burrow oddly quiet after the commotion of the day.
Charming the scrubber in the sink to start work on the plates, Molly walked back to the table and began clearing the glasses. Tonight had been a labor of love on her part. She had wanted Harry to remember his seventeenth birthday as one of the happiest days of his life. Seeing as how every time she had looked at him today, he had been wearing a grin from ear to ear, she was pretty sure the day had been a success.
Putting the glasses down by the sink, she pointed her wand at the dishcloth, sending it to the table to wipe up the crumbs and drips and spills left by the stacks of dirty dishes brought in from outside. She was just picking up another pile of plates to carry to the sink when the kitchen door opened and Albus Dumbledore entered.
“Albus!” Molly exclaimed, smiling. “You’re back. Did you forget something?”
“No, Molly,” Dumbledore answered. “Is Nathan here yet?”
“Nathan? Nathan Borgin?” Molly asked. “Why? Is something wrong?”
“Something has occurred,” Dumbledore nodded. “I think we should wait until “ ah, good, they’re here.”
The sound of two people Apparating could be heard just outside the open kitchen door.
“Who’s here?” Molly asked, her hands beginning to twist in her apron.
Nathan and Catarina Borgin hurried into the kitchen. Molly’s eyes traveled curiously over the well dressed witch and stopped with a gasp as they landed on Nathan.
“Nathan! Whatever happened to you? Sit down! You’re hurt!” Molly fussed, dropping her apron and stepping toward the wizard.
“No “ no, Molly, I’m fine. Molly, I’d like for you to meet my mother, Catarina Borgin. Mother, this is Molly Weasley, Ginny’s mother. Is Arthur here?”
“Ginny? You know Ginny?” Molly asked, a little taken aback. “What’s wrong with Ginny?”
“No, Arthur is still at Headquarters,” Dumbledore commented. “I’ve sent for him, though.”
“Why do we need Arthur? What’s wrong with Ginny?” Molly repeated, panic creeping into her voice.
“Nothing is wrong with Ginny, Molly,” Dumbledore assured. Turning to Catarina, he extended his hand. “Good evening, Catarina. I’m glad you came as well.”
“It is nice to see you again, Albus. I’m sorry it’s under these circumstances,” Catarina greeted the Headmaster gravely, enveloping his hand in her own.
“What circumstances?” Molly asked, her voice rising, her eyes traveling nervously face to face.
“Where are Harry and Ginny?” Nathan asked urgently.
“They’re in the sitting room,” Molly said. “Will someone please tell me what’s going on?”
Nathan moved around the kitchen table and into the sitting room. Ron and Harry were battling it out on the chess board, while Hermione sat by the fire reading. Ginny sat on the floor, her back to the couch, watching the fire dance.
“Harry? Ginny?” Nathan said as he entered.
“Professor Borgin?” Hermione questioned, looking up from her text.
Ignoring Hermione, Nathan motioned to Harry and Ginny. “You need to come into the kitchen.”
Harry and Ginny’s eyes met. They hadn’t told anyone their decision yet. They hadn’t even asked for Hermione’s help, deciding they would do that tomorrow, keeping Harry’s birthday as his birthday. Nathan’s tone and the bruises on his face told them they may have missed their chance.
Nodding, Harry stood up and held out his hand to help Ginny up. They followed Nathan back into the kitchen. Harry stopped suddenly when he saw Dumbledore and Catarina. Ginny who had been following behind, stumbled into his back.
“What’s happened?” Harry asked.
“Nathan’s flat was ransacked tonight,” Dumbledore explained.
Molly gasped, her eyes widening as she studied Nathan.
“A text was stolen, outlining the Blood Bonding ceremony he spoke about with you and Ginny. We have good reason to believe that Voldemort knows about this now and will attempt to take action to prevent you from completing the bond.”
The color drained from Ginny’s face. She took a steadying breath and sat down at the table. Harry sat down next to her. Looking up at the Headmaster and Nathan, Ginny asked, “What do we do?”
“If you have decided to go through with it, I recommend you and Harry go somewhere safe in order to complete the apprenticeship,” Nathan said, sitting down across the table from her.
“Where?” Harry asked.
“My home,” Catarina answered.
“What do you mean go someplace safe?” Molly asked suspiciously, her narrowed eyes focused on Catarina. “What are you going to teach my daughter to do?”
“Now, Molly,” Dumbledore attempted to calm her, touching her on the arm. Molly pushed his hand away, turning to glare at him. “Albus, what is all this?”
“Mum,” Ginny answered before the Headmaster could. “Yesterday, Professor Borgin stopped by. He told us, Harry and I, that he had found a way to prevent Voldemort from ever being able to use our blood for an immortality spell. He asked Harry and me to think about going through with it. We talked about it, and we decided we would do it.” Ginny paused, and looked at Harry, who nodded slightly. “It’s called a Blood Bonding.”
“Absolutely NOT!” Molly exclaimed immediately, her voice rising with every syllable.
“Mum!” Ginny argued, standing up to face her mother. “You don’t understa-“
“No, young lady. I do understand,” Molly said hotly, wagging her finger at her daughter. “You and Harry want to go off and try some ludicrous, unheard of ceremony -“
“Molly, it’s not unheard of,” Nathan interceded.
“I DON’T CARE!” Molly shouted, whirling around, the full force of her anger directed toward him. “WHAT CAN POSSIBLY BE GOOD ABOUT SOMETHING CALLED A BLOOD BONDING?”
“Mum,” Ginny pleaded, “when Harry and I are bonded, my blood cannot be used to give Voldemort immort ““
“BONDED?” Molly shrieked, her eyes flashing between Harry and Ginny. “BONDED? WHAT DOES THAT MEAN? DOES IT MEAN YOU AND HARRY ARE TIED TOGETHER FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIVES? GINNY, YOU ARE FIFTEEN YEARS OLD! YOU ARE MUCH TOO YOU-“
“Molly!” Nathan interrupted, standing up and leaning on the table, his hands palm down. “Molly, it isn’t like a marriage contract. It is a ceremony based in ancient magic. It is designed ““
“ANCIENT MAGIC? I’VE HAD JUST ABOUT AS MUCH ANCIENT MAGIC AS I CAN STAND!” Molly shouted back before she gasped. “Nathan! You’re bleeding!”
All eyes moved down from Nathan and Molly’s flushed faces to Nathan’s forearm. Blood was indeed soaking through the white cotton sleeve of his shirt.
“It’s nothing, Molly,” Nathan said, moving his arm behind his back.
Molly was too quick for him, though, moving forward and grabbing his arm, pushing up his shirtsleeve. She stared at his arm for a full second before dropping it as if it was poisoned.
“There is not a single thing you can say to make me give you permission to take my daughter away from me,” she hissed at him.
“Maybe you don’t have a choice,” Harry said, standing up from the table.
“What do you mean she doesn’t have a choice?” Ron asked, stepping forward, looking at Harry as if he was insane. “Didn’t you see his arm? HE’S GOT THE BLOODY DARK MARK ON IT!”
“Ron!” Hermione admonished. “There’s probably a reasonable explana-“
“HERMIONE!” Ron shouted back. “IT’S THE DARK MARK! THE DARK MARK! ONLY DEATH EATERS HAVE THE DARK MARK!”
“I can see that, Ron, but I think we should give Professor Borgin an opportunity to explain!” Hermione argued, looking expectantly at Nathan.
“It’s not what you think,” Nathan started, trying to push his shirtsleeve down. Harry reached over and yanked Nathan’s arm across the table, his other hand holding the sleeve where it was. The Dark Mark, branded into the skin, still oozed blood. Harry looked into Nathan’s unreadable eyes.
“See, Harry! He’s one of them!” Ron cried desperately.
“Yes, Ron, he does have the Dark Mark. But it may not be what you think,” Harry said, letting go of Nathan’s arm.
“NOT WHAT I THINK? HAVE YOU GONE MENTAL, HARRY? YOU CAN’T EXPECT FOR US TO SEND YOU AND GINNY OFF WITH A DEATH EATER!” Ron shouted, his face flushed with anger.
“Ron, this isn’t your choice!” Ginny said harshly.
“And it isn’t yours or Harry’s choice either,” Molly broke in.
Everyone in the kitchen jumped as Harry’s fist slammed down on the kitchen table.
“YES, IT IS OUR CHOICE!” he shouted. Taking a deep breath to try and calm himself, he felt Ginny’s hand find his and squeeze it. “As of today, I am seventeen. That makes it my choice.”
“You have been of legal age for less than a day, Harry. Ginny is only fifteen. Do you even understand what will happen if you do this?” Molly argued.
“Do you understand what will happen if we don’t?” Harry bit back. “If we do not do this, Voldemort will continue to come after Ginny. He will pursue her until he has her blood and then he will kill her because he doesn’t need her anymore.”
“Harry, perhaps there is another way,” Hermione broke in.
“NO!” Harry shouted, flashes of light seeming to bounce off him. Ginny squeezed his hand tighter. “THERE IS NOT ANOTHER WAY! I AM SICK AND TIERD OF EVERYONE ELSE DETERMINING MY LIFE. THIS IS NOT YOUR DECISION TO MAKE! YOU HAVE NO SAY IN IT!”
Harry wrenched his hand away from Ginny’s and plowed his way to the door, sparks of magical energy flying off him as he flung the door open so hard it bounced off the wall and slammed shut behind him.
Ginny’s eyes met Nathan’s, her eyes questioning.
“Ginny?” Dumbledore asked quietly, coming forward to stand next to Borgin.
“You knew?” she asked.
“He told me tonight,” Dumbledore said quietly.
Her eyes traveled from Dumbledore’s to Nathan’s and back again. Without another word, she stood up and pushed her way toward the door.
“Ginny!” Molly cried. “You cannot possibly think of doing this.”
“Mum, I have to,” Ginny replied, stopping and turning to look at her mother, her hand resting on the doorknob.
“Ginny, you aren’t of age! I will not allow you to do this!” Molly commanded.
“Mum, this is not your decision,” Ginny replied coldly, opening the door and following Harry into the night.
The dumfounded silence that filled the kitchen was broken with the sound of a wizard Apperating into the sitting room. Arthur Weasley walked quickly into the kitchen, his eyes passing over Nathan and Dumbledore and falling on his wife. Striding over to her, he enveloped her in his arms. Molly, realizing he was trying to comfort her, pushed away and looked up at her husband, horrorstruck.
“You know!” she accused. “You know!”
“No, I don’t, Molly. At least not everything. Albus contacted me at Headquarters and told me Nathan’s flat had been ransacked. He said that Ginny and Harry needed to go away for their own safety. He said there was more, but that he would tell me when I got here. I think we should give him an opportunity to explain.”
“NO!” Molly exclaimed hysterically. “He wants our baby to go with - with him!” she hissed, pointing at Nathan. “Arthur, he’s got the Dark Mark on his arm! He’s one of them!”
“Molly!” Arthur said, holding his wife up by the arms and looking into her eyes. “Molly, we need to listen to them. We need to know what happened. Then we can make a decision.”
Molly covered her mouth with her hand, tears welling up in her eyes. She violently shook her head. “No, Arthur,” she whispered raggedly. “The decision has been made. Ginny already made the decision. She’s going.”
Arthur sighed heavily and pulled his wife to him. Enveloping her in a tight hug, he looked over her head at the Headmaster.
“Are the wards in place, Arthur?” Dumbledore asked quietly.
His shoulders sagging, Arthur inclined his head slightly.
“Dad?” Ron asked incredulously. “Just what the bloody hell are you on about? You’re letting him take Ginny? Haven’t you seen his arm? HE’S GOT THE DARK MARK!” Ron bellowed.
“Ronald!” Hermione exclaimed.
“Ron,” Arthur barked back, holding his hand up. “You don’t know the entire story. I think you should wait and see what he has to say ““
“HAS TO SAY? HAS TO SAY? HE’S GOT THE BLOODY DARK MARK ON HIS ARM. WHEN WAS HE GOING TO SAY THAT?”
Borgin stood up, his face grave and pained. “Ron, just what in Merlin’s name did you want me to say? ‘By the way, Harry, I got branded by your arch enemy today?’ Or “ or how about ‘I was thinking of getting a tattoo. What do you think of this?’ Damn it, Ron, do you think I asked for this?”
“I don’t know, did you?”
“I was unconscious! I had no idea.”
“What does it mean, Nathan?” Arthur asked quietly.
Borgin sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “It means just what you think it means. I’m in the club,” he paused. “I think he simply wants to keep tabs on me.”
“Why?” Hermione asked skeptically.
“I know things that can help him, things he wants to use that he doesn’t want the Order to use,” Borgin said, pushing his chair back and turning toward the open door.
“Just where do you think you’re going?” Ron demanded.
“On holiday, Ron. Where do you think I’m going?” Nathan replied sarcastically before following Harry and Ginny out in the night air.
“Let him go, Ron,” Arthur said, nodding at Hermione who put her hand on Ron’s shoulder and forcefully pushed him into the seat Harry vacated.
“You’re just going to let him go out there - with them - with that on his arm?” Ron demanded.
“Yes, Ron, we are,” Dumbledore stated, sitting down across from him. “Ron, Molly, Arthur, Hermione - I trust Nathan Borgin. I always have. He is a good man and a trustworthy Order member.”
Dumbledore motioned for everyone to take a seat around the kitchen table. Molly refused to sit, so Arthur stood behind her, his hands on her shoulders for support. Hermione slowly sat down next to Ron who huffed, folding his arms across his chest.
“Now, Catarina, would you like to explain what a Blood Bonding is and why it is important that it takes place?”
Catarina looked at the flushed, angry, devastated faces around her. She nodded, sitting down next to Dumbledore. She knew if it was her daughter and a young man whom she loved like a son, she wouldn’t have acted any differently.
She also knew she would want as many answers as she could get. She was prepared to give the Weasleys as many as she could.
++++
“Harry James Potter!”
Harry whipped around. He was standing under the gnarled apple tree in the back of the garden where they had danced just a few nights ago, his hand fisted around a rock he was about to pitch into the ground. Ginny marched up to him, fists clenched at her side, angry sparks flying from her eyes.
“How dare you just walk out of that kitchen and leave me there!”
“What? Gin-“
“No, you listen to me, Harry James Potter,” she ground out, her nose millimeters from his, “we are in this together. Never, ever forget that. What my mum said in there, what Ron said, they were mad and scared and angry. They don’t understand what we’re about to do. They were just trying to protect us.”
“I know that.”
“But we need to protect them as well, and that’s the part they don’t understand.”
“I know that, Gin.”
“Then why did you storm out like that?”
“Because,” Harry sighed, dropping the rock in his hand and rubbing his forehead in frustration, “I’m tired of them not letting me make my own decisions. Or letting you make your own decisions.”
Ginny blinked at him, her shoulders slumping as her anger drained away. Harry reached out and took her hand, pulling her down on the ground next to him.
“They love us,” Ginny said quietly.
“I know that,” Harry said. “And I love them.” Picking up a stick, Harry trailed it in the patchy dirt in front of him and snorted.
“What?” Ginny asked.
“Well, you know, I always wanted a family, and now I have one with all the strings attached.”
“Yes, you do,” Ginny said.
“And I will do whatever it takes to keep you safe,” Harry vowed, looking up into her eyes.
“I can take care of myself, Harry.”
“I know that. But if there is something else that will keep you safer, like the Blood Bonding, then I’m going to do it. We’re going to do it,” he answered determinedly.
The grass rustled behind them. They turned to see Nathan stepping into the clearing. He stopped several feet away, unsure of how to approach them. He felt as if he was stealing the most precious thing the Weasley’s owned and taking it far, far away, without being able to give any assurances he would be able to return it. He hated putting this family through it, but he didn’t see another way. Taking a deep breath, he walked forward.
“Harry, Ginny, I am sorry,” he apologized softly. “This “ tonight was unexpected. It certainly did not go as I had hoped. And this “ this monstrosity,” he paused, waving his unharmed arm over the other, “was not my idea.”
Uncrossing his legs, Harry stood up, pulling Ginny with him. Nathan watched as Harry put his arm around Ginny. It wasn’t a casual gesture; it was meant as a sign of protection and a warning. Nathan nodded, understanding full well that, should something happen to Ginny because of him, he would have to answer to Harry.
They stood in silence, sizing each other up, for at least a minute, until finally, Harry spoke.
“When do we leave?”
“As soon as possible,” Nathan said, turning to head back to the Burrow.
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A/N “ Who to thank first? Pavartipatil, my wonderful grammar beta who I am loosing. Thank you for all your help! To wvchemteach who kept pushing this back until the characters sounded like the characters “ thank you! And lastly to all you who read and review “ I love the input!
Also - I need to apologize regarding the rating change. When I started writing this, it was a G-PG story. As it has evolved, it has needed to be bumped up to PG-13. I truly realize this is horrible form on my part and I am so sorry.
Next chapter “ Ginny’s Training Begins