Finally, it was Christmas. Nestled in his hollow and one of Mrs. Weasley’s thick, warm quilts pulled up around his ears, of which only his unruly hair stuck out from beneath it, Harry lay comfortably in his bed, feigning sleep as long as possible. He could hear the echoed greetings of ‘Happy Christmas’ as members of the Weasley family gathered in the parlor, three floors down. Ron had taken the liberty of opening his presents without waiting or waking him, before joining his family below. Harry continued to lie there until he was sure that Ron would not be coming back anytime soon, allowing him the privacy of opening his presents unaccompanied. Why he wanted it that way, Harry wasn’t sure, he was not expecting anything in particular, yet somehow wanted this Christmas morning, at least this much of it, to be his alone.
Peeling off the heavy layers of bedclothes, the cooler air of the attic took away what slumberous comfort he had left, Harry rolled over and sat up cross-legged, surveying the pile of gifts amassed at the foot of his bed. He remembered, not too long ago, a time when Christmas meant enduring a parade of magnificent, expensive gifts received by an expectant, unappreciative Dudley. It was a sharp contrast to the mismatched, broken bits of useless rubbish he had been given, albeit staunchly, by the Dursleys. The memory of which made him savor every gift that he’d received, no matter what the contents, given to him without any obligatory duty.
Right way, he plucked out Mr. and Mrs. Weasley’s gift, the traditional jumper and a homemade treat wrapped inside green paper. This year’s color was a dark, woodsy brown with orange, green, and ivory flecks throughout, however, it did not include his initial or picture stitched into the front. Thinking more on the subject, it was probably because Mrs. Weasley had been too busy with more important matters than knitting. Seeking to regain some of the comfort he’d left, he slipped the jumper over his head and pulled it down over the tee-shirt he had slept in, all the while popping a large chunk of Mrs. Weasley’s fudge into his mouth.
Harry had received a wide variety of gifts this year. Hagrid was the most unusual so far, it was a large scale of some beast he had no doubt was very rare, and very, very deadly. Examining it in a beam of snowy white light from the window, it refracted a rainbow of colors off its black satin-like surface.
Fred and George gave him another vast assortment of their latest products, including a spritzing cylinder of their Dragons’ Breath, breath spray. Not having any idea of what type of occasion he could possibly use it for, he tucked in under his bed with the rest of the lot. In an amusing turn of events, Hermione had given him the exact same thing he had given her, Ever-Sharp Quills, with the exception of having his name etched into the side of the quill, and a Self-Refilling inkbottle. Chuckling to himself, he imagined what her reaction would be to his gift.
He was surprised to receive a gift from Luna, a years subscription to The Quibbler along with his first issue, the headline reading, Tea Kettles: Danger’s In The Mist. His best mate Ron, had given him a bottle of broom polish, which he was running out of, and an extra large box of Bernie Bott’s Beans featuring the new flavors, Gargoyle Goo and Totally Toe Jam. Not wanting to spoil the rich, sweet taste of fudge that lingered in his mouth, he opted to try it out later. Dobby, whose presents we always interesting, gave him a knot of shoelaces in various shades of brown, black, and dirty gray.
Three presents were all that remained of his pile, choosing the one he knew to be Dumbledore’s by it’s precise, crisply folded edges, Harry opened it with mixed anticipation. With relief and curiosity, he had been given an old, weathered-looking skeleton key. Picking it up out of its padded box, it glowed briefly. Not having a clue as to what it unlocked or of its significance, Harry turned it over in hope of discovering some discriminating marks. Unable to find any clues, he replaced it and conceded the fact that Dumbledore would probably tell him later.
Lupin’s gift was next, it consisted of an envelope, the outside was addressed to him in the same writing that grace the top of his Marauders Map. Harry flipped it over and ran his finger under the dark, blood red seal, carefully pulling the flap open to reveal the contents. Sliding the parchment out, he unfolded it; a smaller piece, frayed and yellowing, fell out onto his lap. Picking it up, he read the first.
Harry,
I’ve arranged to stop by later this morning, I have something to show you.
Until then, Happy Christmas.
R. J. Lupin
P.s. I came across this the other day and thought you might like it.
On queue, Harry opened the smaller note, it’s faded ink immediately caught his eye.
Moony,
She said yes.
Prongs
Not quite sure whether to smile or not, Harry knew exactly what it was. He read it over and over again, the same five words, taking in every crooked, imperfect letter his father had scratched out. ‘She said yes.’ Harry whispered to himself, imagining the excitement and joy in such a simple statement. Lupin had given him another treasure, one that was never meant to be at the time it was written, and no matter how upset he was a his guardian at the moment, he truly accepted his heartfelt gift. Wanting to keep it safe, he set it on his nightstand, away from everything else, to be put added to his album later. He had one gift left.
Perking up his ears, listening carefully for anyone who might be coming up stairs, Harry pulled the flat, rectangular package he knew was from Ginny towards him. He had no idea of what it could be, but when it came right to it, Harry knew that she had given him something special no matter what it was.
Harry pinched the paper at the corner, applying enough pressure to gently tear it back. Underneath was a wooden frame, carved along its inner edge was a simple, scroll design. A smile broke across his face when he saw the picture. There, in wizarding fashion, his picture self and Ginny were standing behind their birthday cake, in the garden of The Burrow. Jostling each other for the best position to blow the candles out, all 31 of them, before finally agreeing to do it together. When the last candle was extinguished, both waved back enthusiastically. His picture self, over eager with the waving, received a playfully push from Ginny, flashing that famous, mischievous Weasley smile. Harry had never seen this picture before, assuming that it was one that Bill took, he wondered how she got a hold of it. It was definitely one of his favorites and the only one of just Ginny and him. Watching the candles ignite again, magically resetting the picture, Harry lost himself remembering the happier moments of that summer day.
“Oi!”
“Wha?” George was sitting on Ron’s bed, he had become so good at apparating, that he did not make a sound, at least one loud enough to snap Harry out of his reverie.
“We’re waiting for you.” He nodded his head to the door. “We’re all starving... well, Ron says he is anyway.”
“Oh yeah, sure.”
“What’cha got there?” George reached out for the picture, taking it away from Harry. “Ginny gave you this, didn’t she?”
“Uh, yeah.” Harry wasn’t sure if he should say anything more.
“So this is what she and Bill were talking about.” George laughed, watching Harry get pushed off to the side of the picture by his little sister.
“You knew?”
“No, I saw that they were talking off by themselves right after that picture was taken... I knew from experience that they were planning something.” George handed the picture back to Harry.
“I’m sorry.” Harry uttered, taking the picture, his fathers note, and the key he’d received from Dumbledore.
“For what?” George asked.
“For what happened later that night.” Harry got up and stowed the items in his trunk.
“You know, I can’t tell you who to or not to invite to your own birthday party.” George chuckled. “Next time I’ll expect the rough crowd you like to chum with.”
Harry went back to his bed, gathering the rest of his gifts to be put away. “I’m still sorry.”
“Enough with the apologies already, besides... as you know, chic’s dig scars!”
“Do I have time to take a quick shower?” Harry asked, pulling out fresh clothes.
“Yeah, I’ll tell mum, Ginny’s lagging behind this morning too. Ron won’t thank you though.” He smiled and disappeared with a tiny ‘pop’.
Dressed in jeans and new jumper, Harry was greeted by a warm “Happy Christmas” when he entered the kitchen.
“Have a seat, have a seat.” Mrs. Weasley ushered him to the table.
“Happy Christmas.” He told her, catching an impatient look from Ron who was salivating over a large plate of fried ham.
Seated at his usual post was Mr. Weasley who said, “Good morning, Harry” from behind his Daily Prophet.
“Good morning, sir.” He told the paper.
Harry looked around the table, across from him sat Fred and George in matching jumpers of dark blue, the same blue as their store robes. Next to him was Ron, maroon as usual, and still drooling over breakfast, and on his side, an empty seat for Ginny.
“What is she doing anyway.” Ron, leaning back in his chair, looked expectantly upwards. “How long does it take, honestly.”
“Leave your sister alone.” Mrs. Weasley pulled out her chair and joined the rest of the family at the table. “She’ll be down in just a minute.”
Mrs. Weasley had barely finished before the door swung open and in walked Ginny. “Happy Christmas.”
Suddenly feeling nervous and an unexpected jump in temperature, Harry shot back down to his empty plate. He had only a glimpse of her, but from it was able to see that she was wearing them.
“Let’s eat.” Ron reached for the stack of ham he had been eyeing for the last five minutes.
Mr. Weasley emerged from his paper and the whole family tucked in.
“You look lovely, dear sister.” Fred echoed what Harry had been thinking, except for the sister part.
“Yes, dear, you do.” Mrs. Weasley agreed, admiring her daughter and the jumper she had made. “Does it fit alright?”
“Yes, mum, it’s perfect. Thank you.” Ginny answered and took a bite of her jellied toast.
“Your mother has done a wonderful job as usual.” Mr. Weasley said, surrounded by her handiwork and a new gray jumper of his own.
Feeling brave, Harry glanced down the table towards Ginny. She did look beautiful. Mrs. Weasley had chosen an earthy, forest green this year and it complimented her long, crimson hair. He noticed that she seemed to have an extra spark about her this morning, a smile that was hidden just beneath the surface.
“Get anything interesting, boys?” Mr. Weasley asked.
Ron, obviously much better tempered now that he had something in his stomach, replied, “Yeah, Harry got me a book of Quidditch plays... it covers the last hundred years. It should come in handy. Thank-you, Harry.”
“Sure, no problem.” Harry eeked out, barely swallowing his pumpkin juice. “Page 294 looks like it could be fun.”
“I’m excited to try a few of them out, maybe we could after breakfast...”
“Can we join in?” George asked hopefully.
“We haven’t flown in ages,” Fred followed.
“Sure, we can make a game of it.” Ron, excited by the opportunity, helped himself to another round out eggs and ham. “With Ginny and Harry, we should be able to get the gist of it.”
“Oh, Harry,” Mrs. Weasley said, suddenly remembering something, “Remus said that he would be here at eleven.”
“Where are you going?” Ron lost a bit of his enthusiasm.
“Dunno.” Harry shrugged and finished with his breakfast.
When the serving plates were empty and their bellies full, breakfast was officially over. Ron and the twins had left for the Burrow’s homemade Quidditch pitch, making Harry and Ginny promise that they would join them later in the afternoon. Pushing up from the table, Harry readied himself to wash. Ginny, following his queue, started to gather the dirty dishes while Mrs. Weasley put what little remained away.
“Oh!” Mrs. Weasley gasped from behind Ginny, noticing her hair. “Those are beautiful.”
Harry, not wanting to be apart of the conversation, started to run the water. Curiosity, however, kept him listening.
“Here,” Ginny pulled the left comb out of her hair and handed it to her mother. Curiosity still getting the better of him, he watched Mrs. Weasley’s reaction.
She held the comb in her hand, its silver teeth contrasting against her palm. Like Harry had done before, she ran her fingers over the crown. The combs were dark silver, neither tarnished nor dull, but at the same time not overly brilliant, a sign of its age. The top was delicate looking, its millgrained edges lacing over the open filigree. Mounted in the center was a small, translucent, oval-shaped amber stone. “These look old.” she said in a hushed voice.
“I think so.” Ginny walked past Harry and delivered a stack of dishes on top of the counter, ready to be washed.
“Where ever did you get them?” Mrs. Weasley asked, handing it back to Ginny, who was still standing next to him.
Ginny took the comb and swept it up into her hair, securing all but a tiny wisp that fell next to her face. “They were a gift.”
“From someone special, no doubt?” Mrs. Weasley asked, wanting to know exactly who it was that had given her daughter such a lovely gift.
“Yeah, you could say that.” Ginny replied and scooted to the other side of Harry to start the rinse water.
Harry, having finished with the first of many glasses, set it into the filling basin, providing him a valid reason to look her way. Ginny winked and rolled the glass under the running water.
“Well, you’re a very lucky girl.” Mrs. Weasley magiked the table clean, there was sweetness in her voice that sounded to Harry like she was still prodding for the identity of the giver.
“Very lucky.” Ginny answered back, still keeping his anonymity. “Very lucky indeed.”
“Ready?” Lupin asked, moments after stepping through the front door and greeting the Weasley’s.
“Sure.” Harry grabbed his cloak and fastened it around his shoulders.
“We won’t be long.” Lupin told Arthur and Molly, pulling out a muggle pencil sharpener.
“Portkey?” Harry asked, it was the only logical reason for Lupin to be carrying one.
He nodded, and extended his hand and the sharpener to Harry. “We’ll be back shortly.”
“See ya.” Harry said, quickly glancing around the room of Weasley’s, ending his gaze on Ginny right before he took hold of the portkey and felt it’s familiar tug behind his navel.
Traveling by portkey was never fun, but he was getting used to it. Still looking at his feet, Harry recognized the dusty, fraying rug he was standing on. He was in the parlor of number 12 Grimmauld Place, the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, the Black family house... Sirius’ house.
Lupin, not saying anything, directed him to the sofa. Harry had a feeling that he wasn’t going to like what his guardian had to say, and by Lupin’s hesitance to sit down in the empty wing-backed chair, he didn’t want to say it either. Finally settled, albeit uncomfortably, Lupin began.
“Do you know why were here?” Lupin rested his elbows on the arms of the chair.
“No.” Harry shrugged, saying the first thing that came to mind. “Does Dumbledore need to see me?”
“No, just me.” He shook his head, “It’s my job.”
“You’re not going to get after me again for what Ginny and I did to Ron are you?” No matter how hard he tried to sound polite, his resentment forced its way through. “Because I-”
“Listen, Harry, I probably went about it all the wrong way. I was hoping to encourage you.”
“Encourage me?” Harry’s temper was rising. “Encourage me to what?”
“Ginny.” Lupin looked him straight in the face.
“Ginny?” He could feel his face flush hot, but it wasn’t because he mentioned her name.
“Yes, Harry, Ginny.”
“What does she have to do with anything?”
“Everything.” Harry could tell that Lupin was trying to keep him calm.
“Everything!” By now his raw emotions had made it to the top, surprising himself at how easy it was to let them go as they seemed to come out of no where. He bolted up off the couch and walk to the other side of the room, his back to Lupin. “Ginny doesn’t have anything to do with me, Voldemort, or the fact that I’m a walking dead man.”
“You can’t stop it, Harry,” Lupin’s voice remained calm and steady, “and you know it. You’ll be hurting more than just yourself if you continue.”
“What do you know?” Harry rounded on him, almost yelling.
“Enough.” This time there was a growl to his voice that caught Harry off guard. “Sit down and I’ll explain, but I won’t get into a shouting match with you.”
Anger pulsed through him as he stood there, staring down his father’s only remaining friend. He was angry at the man sitting in front of him, angry at being back in his dead Godfather’s house. Angry at Dumbledore for not keeping his parents safe, and harbored anger and absolute hatred towards the Dark Lord for making his life one nightmare after another. And when he came right down to it, Harry realized that it was not anger that had spurred on this sudden outburst, but fear and hopelessness.
Whether or not this is what Lupin had in mind this Christmas morning, Harry laid it all out in front of him. A strange relief washed over him as they talked, and Harry discovered things about the last of the Marauders that he didn’t know and surprised himself at what he had to say, giving a voice to his thoughts somehow made them valid and real. He was able to look at them differently, much like a pensive allowed one to examine memories.
“Well, now that we understand each other a little better, I suppose it’s time I tell you why we’re here.” Lupin smiled briefly, he too seemed relieved somewhat. “This house, Sirius’ house, and everything in it now belongs to you.”
“What?” Harry heard the words correctly, but didn’t want to comprehend their meaning. “No, it’s his.”
“And he bequeathed it to you, Harry.”
“All of it?” He asked.
“All of it.” Lupin confirmed, “Everything in this house, including a vault in Gringotts, and if magical law provides, Kreacher.”
“What if I don’t want it?” Harry asked, feeling like if he accepted it, somehow it would bring closure to Sirius’ life.
“You can deny it if you’d like, but then it would be left to the Malfoys.” Lupin shrugged, “If you rather it go to them...”
“No.” He answered firmly, “I’d rather keep it than to give it to them.”
“I expected that you would.” Lupin smiled softly. “Whatever you do with it is your own business. You can do nothing if you’d like, but Sirius wanted to help you as much as he could, even after he was gone.”
Speechless, Harry sat and tried to think of what to do next, Lupin giving him the time he needed.
“There’s nothing that has to be done now.” He finally offered. “Nothing will change without your permission.”
“Yeah, I think I need some time.” Harry shrugged, looking uncomfortably around the room. It was too hard to imagine that this house was now his, only wishing that he had his Godfather back instead.
“Dinner’s at three.” Mrs. Weasley waved Lupin off, “We’ll see in back, then.”
“I wouldn’t miss it, Molly.” Lupin smiled before disapperating.
“Did you have a good time, dear?” Mrs. Weasley turned her attention and affection on him.
“Yeah, it was good.” Harry smiled briefly, trying to look around her hug to find Ginny, but found Ron and the twins instead.
Harry had eaten so much that he thought he would explode, Mrs. Weasley had gone all out for the Christmas feast. Even Ron, who never seemed to stop eating, managed to stop at his third and fourth helpings. He was actually looking forward to the time he and Ginny would spend doing the dishes, it would give him time to let his stomach settle before trying a maneuver Ron picked out just for him.
“Don’t worry about them.” Mrs. Weasley said, carrying a loaded tea tray. “Go and have some fun while the weathers still good and before it gets dark.”
“But I thought we-“ Not thinking about what he was saying, Harry tried to argue with her to do the dishes.
“Oh, you two are not off the hook, mind you.” Mrs. Weasley eyed him, holding the door open with her backside, “They’ll be here waiting for the two of you when you get in.”
“Deal.” Ginny came up from behind him, pulling her gloves on and fastening them around her wrists, she was almost ready to go. “Come on, Harry, before she changes her mind.”
Ginny had spoken to him.
“Thanks.” He told Mrs. Weasley before she disappeared, joining her husband and Remus in the parlor.
“You’re welcome.” He heard as the door shut.
“Get your things and let’s go!” Ginny smiled, “You heard her, we haven’t got all day.”
Feeling suddenly better, he replied, “Race you around the pitch.”
“You’re on Potter.”
It was a good thing Harry had put on an extra jumper before he went outside, it might have been a bright, snowy Christmas day, but it was still bitter cold. Ron, the twins, and Ginny were already circling the make-do pitch above the grove when Harry had finally made it over.
“Get lost?” Ginny cheekily yelled over to him.
“Yep.” He shouted. “You know me, can’t find my way around a pitch if it was right in front of me.”
“And you let him stay on as Seeker?” Ginny yelled to Ron, who was hanging mid air, animatedly showing the twins what to do.
“Ha, ha.” Harry had joined Ginny in the air. “Very funny.”
“It’s the truth.” Ginny said seriously.
“I’ll show you the truth alright.” He said, bobbing slightly in the air, “We’ll see who wins our little match.”
“A bit over confident, aren’t you?” She looked at him pitifully, “The boy-who-lived mumbo jumbo has clearly gone to your head.”
“Believe what you will.” He dismissed her, meeting up with Ron and Fred who were watching George spiral and turn through the air.
Even though this wasn’t technically a Gryffindor practice, Ron treated it like it was. He put them through their paces, learned and developed new plays and when everything was said and done, Harry, Ginny, Ron, Fred and George were frozen solid and out of breath.
“We’ll have to try the blended four-spaded half twist tomorrow.” Ron, already devising future plans, led the way back to the house.
“He’s worse than Wood.” Fred nudged past Harry.
“Sorry, mate.” George brushed by his other side, blowing onto his frozen fingertips
“Hey.” Ginny fell in step with him.
“Hey.” He replied.
Ginny grabbed his arm and stopped. “Where are you going?”
Harry looked at her blankly, “What do-“
“I believe we have a race, Potter.” Ginny flicked her head back to the grove. “Or are you conceding.”
“To you?” Kicking himself that he had forgot, “Never.”
“On the count of three then, from here to the pitch, circling twice and then back here.” Ginny laid out the course and etched a line in the snow with the heel of her boot.
“I’ll be waiting for you.” Harry sighed and mounted his broom.
“We’ll see.” Ginny positioned herself, “One, two.... three!”
Harry thought for sure the Ginny had gotten a head start, but it didn’t matter now because he had caught up with her. He knew that his Firebolt could outstrip her late model Cleansweep in nothing flat, so he kept pace with her just to egg her on and make things interesting.
Ginny turned and looked at him, giving Harry a wicked smile before diving, disappearing into the trees below. Not sure of what she was doing, he held up and waited for her to pop up out of them. When she didn’t reappear immediately, Harry followed along the tree tops, trying to look through the bare and evergreen branches to find her. He had completed his first lap with still no sign of Ginny, getting worried, he flew lower inside the pitch, looking for a flash of red between the trunks.
“What’cha doing down there?” Ginny’s voiced yelled down to him. “Lost something?”
Harry looked upwards to see Ginny take off towards the Burrow and the finish line. Realizing that he had been duped, he sped off after her, only to lose by a length.
“Huh.” Ginny dismounted and shouldered her broom, slightly out of breath. “I thought you’d be tougher to beat then that.”
“What do you mean?” Harry shouldered his broom as well “You cheated.”
“I most certainly did not.” Ginny looked offended and made her way through the snow to the broom shed.
“You did too.” Harry followed behind. “You did that on purpose.”
“Did what?” She opened the door and leaned her broom against the inside wall with the others. “I never said that you had to stay above the pitch.”
“Uh-huh.” Harry reached pasted her and leaned his broom next to hers. He knew that Ron would have them out flying again this holiday whenever the weather allowed. “Next time I’ll make the rules.”
“Suit yourself.” Ginny teased, “Cold?”
“Freezing.” Harry replied, cupping his hands to his mouth.
“Here, I can fix that.” Ginny cast a warming spell on him and herself. “Better?”
“Much.” Harry smiled back, wanting to stay out longer and enjoy the pristine snow and the company of Miss. Weasley.
“Don’t tell mum.” She said, “I’ll end up with dish duty for the rest of my natural life.”
“That wouldn’t be so bad, would it?” Harry bit back a smile.
“Good, then you can fill in for me.” Ginny shut the door and locked it with her wand before tucking it away inside her heavy cloak.
“Miss Weasley, would you fancy a walk around the garden.” Harry offered her his arm. “It’s a lovely day.”
“It is a lovely day and I would gladly join you, Mr. Potter.” Ginny fluttered her eyes, stifling a giggle, and took hold of his arm and waited for him to lead the way.
“I really like the picture you gave me.” Harry thought that it was about time he thanked her as they crossed the yard.
“You do?” Ginny sighed relief, “I was hoping you wouldn’t be too mad that I had kept it from you.”
“Mad, nope. It was perfect.” Harry pushed the garden gate open against the snow, before leading her through it. “Bill on the other hand...”
“Whatever.” Ginny smiled, her nose and cheeks flushed red.
They followed the snow-capped rocks, marking the edge of the flowerbeds and where the garden path lay below. Ahead of them was untouched snow, beautiful and new. Behind them, a trail of footprints marked where they had been.
“I really like the combs you gave me.” Ginny whispered, looking anywhere other than Harry.
“You’re welcome.” He said, trying to hide his smile. “I just thought you could use them.”
“You don’t like my hair?” Ginny pulled at it, “It’s messy, I know- but yours is worse, Mr. Potter.”
“No, that’s not it.” Harry didn’t see this coming. “I love your hair.”
“You do?” She asked surprised, “Really?”
“Snarls and all.” He laughed, nudging into her side.
“Ha, ha.” Ginny mocked, “Really, why the combs then?”
“Well, you’re always tucking the loose strands behind your ear.” He shrugged.
“When do it do that?” She asked.
“All the time.” Harry watched a gnome scurry back through a hole in the wall, making little tracks in the snow. “When you’re studying, when you’re tired, when you’re nervous...”
“You seem to know a lot about my hair habits.” Ginny said playfully.
Harry kept silent as they walked alongside the back wall path, he had other things on his mind and was trying to find the best way to go about sharing it with her. Taking the initiative, Ginny pulled him to the left and towards the hollow entrance. Harry followed, still searching for the right words.
Once they had made it inside, Ginny let go and took a deep breath in the center of it, stretching out her arms and her face towards the orange tinted sky. Harry watched her spin around a few times before she stopped and looked directly at him, her breath swirling above her.
“You know that I’m okay with it.” She said, expecting Harry to know exactly what she was talking about.
“Are you sure?” Harry asked, still standing near the entrance. “I can’t ask you to.”
“You don’t have to.” Ginny sniffed, “You never have to.”
“I was afraid, Ginny.” He said, “I’m still afraid.”
“Harry, you’re not going to be alone.” Ginny’s eyes shined and she took a step closer to him, “The Order won’t leave you, Ron and Hermione won’t leave you, and I won’t leave you.”
“You know about the prophecy?” He asked, taking a single step towards her.
“Yes,” she said, inching closer. “You told me... well, I found out when we bonded.”
“Then you understand.” Harry stood still, “Why I didn’t want to reconnect or ‘invade’ your mind whether Dumbledore gave us his blessing or not, why I didn’t let you in.”
“You made that perfectly clear in your letter.” She took another step, “But that’s not the real reason, your using it as an excuse, I know that you would never hurt me.”
“It’s the truth.”
“It maybe part of it, but it’s definitely not the whole truth.” Ginny walked up to him, they were now face to face.
“You’re wrong.” Harry tried to back out of the corner she had pinned him in and looked away. “That’s not fair, Gin.”
“Not fair?” Ginny’s voice cracked.
Harry left her question unanswered.
“Nothings fair.” She sniffed again and inched even closer, “You have a chance, Harry. Don’t be too noble or too afraid to take it.”
Lupin had said the exact same thing to him this morning, but this time the words cut into him. Flinching from the sting of it, Harry blurted out, “I can’t because...”
“Look, when it comes right down to it, I- I care about you, Harry. You’re the one who matters most in the end.” Ginny’s expression was unyielding and firm. “I’m here if you need me, if you want me, but don’t think for one second that I’m safer because of it.” She said before stepping aside and back through the entrance, leaving him behind.
‘Ginny, wait.’ He thought, finally giving in and accepting what she had offered. ‘Please come back.’ and then he broke the Legillimens connection.
Feeling like he had blown it, that in is awkward way of trying to protect her and explain himself, he had only made matters worse. Kicking off the snow covered bench, all the while kicking himself, Harry plopped down and hung his head in frustration.
But before he could wallow in his mistakes, he felt her return. Looking up, he saw her duck the boxwood limb and hurry towards him. Standing up to meet her, he said, “You got the message?”
“Yeah, I got it.” She smiled back, and then on her tiptoes, kissed Harry’s cheek.
They stood there staring at each other for some time, communicating wordlessly, letting thoughts flow unimpeded between them. He realized that he was wrong to push her and the gifts they shared away. Ginny’s intentions, like they had always been, were selfless. She understood the bigger picture, the risks involved, all the while valuing Harry above herself. Lupin was right, they were better together than apart, he was better, and putting his fears aside, maybe he did have a chance, they would have a chance together. On a side note, buried deep inside his own thoughts, all he had to figure out was when Dean would get out of the picture, only then could he tell her how he really felt.
Harry held his arm out, Ginny accepted, and side by side they made their way back to the Burrow and the dishes that were waiting for them.
“Oh,” She broke the silence, jaunting up ahead of him, “It’s my turn to wash and Dean and I broke up over a month ago.”
Those last words left Harry standing in his tracks, he watched her as she slipped through the front door and out of sight. ‘A month ago? He flipped back in his mind and saw Ginny and Dean tucked away in the common room the night he was released from the hospital. “A month ago.”
Hoping that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and Lupin would chalk up his burning red face to the cold winter air, Harry quickly hung up his cloak and dashed up to his and Ron’s room, peeling off the multiple layers and tossing them on his bed.
“Everything okay?” Ron asked, looking up from his latest letter to what he assumed was Hermione.
“Yeah.” Flicking off his damp socks for a nice, warm pair.
“What’s your hurry?”
“Dishes.”
“Uh-huh.” Ron cocked his right eyebrow suspiciously.
“See ya.” And Harry left as fast as he could, avoiding any more ‘questionable’ looks from Ron.
Forcing himself not to run down the stairs, not wanting anymore attention, Harry slipped past Fred and George but was caught by Lupin.
“Happy Christmas?” He asked from across the room, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley turned and looked up to him.
“Yeah, Happy Christmas.” That was all that he had to say, Lupin understood that he and Ginny had worked it out. Feeling all eyes on him, he muttered something about ‘al ready started’ and left for the kitchen.
“You’re behind, Potter.” Ginny was busy washing at the sink.
“Sorry, I got delayed.” He joined her and fished out the dishes that were waiting for him in the sink.
“So...” Ginny slipped another plate into the rinse.
“So?”
“Is that what’s been stopping you?”
“Well, that and other things we’ve already covered.”
“Hmm.” Ginny scooted down the counter for the roasting pan, sliding it along the top. “Is that all?”
Not having an answer to her direct line of questioning, Harry just stood there, trying to keep his cool and figure out just where this conversation was heading. He watched as Ginny pushed the roaster into the wash, sending suds and water flying everywhere on impact.
“Oh,” She gasped, “Look at that.”
It was Harry’s turn to get soaked. “Ha, Ha.” He laughed dryly, removing his glasses and wiping his eyes.
“Here, let me help you.” That Weasley smile shone through as she moved in closer, grabbing the dishtowel off her shoulder.
In the spur of the moment, whether it was nerves or all together loss of thought, after all- he was a stupid git, Harry reached into the basin, scooped up a handful of rinsewater and proceeded to splash her with it.
“That’s better.” He laughed, watching Ginny recoil, blinking water out of her eyes while simultaneously throwing the towel at him that he easily swatted down.
She quickly recovered, scooping a pile of suds in her hand and lunging towards her target. Harry reached out just in time, pulling her hand down just before it connected with his face and tucked it in close to his side, bringing Ginny stumbling closer, almost running into him.
Ginny caught herself from falling completely into him, pushing off his shoulder for balance. He couldn’t help but laugh at her failed attempt, but suddenly stopped when he saw what was behind her eyes. She looked back at him, drenched and flushed, biting slightly on her lower lip. Whether it was coming from Ginny or himself, a shock wave of emotions flooded him. Slowly he reached down to her face and carefully tucked the loose stands, the ones he loved so much about her, back behind her ear, his palm lingering on her soft cheek. He let go his fears, not second-guessing himself a moment longer, and when it came right down to it, he did what he had been longing to do for quite sometime.
He kissed her.
“You want two?” Ron yelled back into the parlor from the kitchen door.
Promptly ending their first kiss, Harry and Ginny turned back to the sink in a blink of an eye like nothing ever happened.
“Hey.” Ron walked in, rummaging around the icebox for leftovers.
Both kept silent.
Finding what he needed, a loaded plate of mince pies and treacle tarts, Ron walked back to the sink and pulled three freshly washed glasses out of the rack.
“What happened to you two?” Glancing from Harry to Ginny, taking note of their damp appearance and the soapsuds that spotted their hair.
“Dishes” They replied in unison.